#just tell me what would be enough to fix it

[wannabanauthor]

What if Tommy and Eddie discussed the breakup, and it goes from serious to funny?

So Eddie goes to Tommy's house and is like "I'm here to check on you, let's get a beer."

Tommy tries to refuse, but Eddie says, "You broke my best friend's heart, so the least you could do is explain your reasoning to me."

Tommy reluctantly goes. After a few beers, he starts rambling.

"I fucked up, and I don't know how to fix it or even if I should fix it. I was falling in love with him, and it snuck up on me. I didn't expect for it to get more serious," Tommy says. "I thought it was just going to be fun for awhile, and we'd go our separate ways."

"Your second date with him was to his sister's wedding," Eddie points out.

"Oh so sue me! It's not my fault I caved. He gave me these pleading puppy eyes, and I found myself agreeing."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Well, if you never expected it to get serious and didn't want it to get serious, then why haven't you found your rebound yet? It's been weeks. Even Chimney and Maddie are telling Buck to start dating again."

Tommy groans into his hands and then rubs his temples. "Fucking traitors."

"Well, I know this hot priest-"

"Been there, done that," Tommy says and takes a swig of his beer.

Eddie looks at him with a bewildered look on his face. "What?"

"What?" Tommy responds with a shrug. "I was raised Catholic. Guilt about sexuality is easy to spot, but he made the first move."

"Do I even want to know how?"

"Ever had sex in a confession booth?"

Eddie's eyes are wide and horrified. "Please don't tell me-"

"It was an old booth in storage, but it was still pretty hot. Once I admitted to myself that I was gay, I had a lot of catching up to do."

Then Tommy goes quiet and gets sad again. "I'll never meet another Evan in my life. I think he's ruined me for other men."

"Don't say that. While, I prefer you two together, you can always find someone else."

Tommy snorts in disbelief. "Yeah, not gonna happen. At least when it comes to sex. His adorable face and cheery smile haunt my dreams, and his proficiency with dick makes it impossible for me to get it up even when watching porn."

"Oh no, I need more alcohol for this," Eddie says and orders some shots.

He and Tommy go through a couple of them.

Tommy's tongue gets looser. "His dick is fantastic. Perfect length, thickness, and stamina. I know my body pretty well, and let me tell you, the prostate orgasms from him were out of this world. I barely lasted five minutes before coming just from him fucking me."

Eddie is drunk enough that he's not even fazed.

"Not to mention he has this slight curve that makes him hit the spot every time, and goddamn, I miss that dick and the dork attached to it," Tommy continues. "He made me feel comfortable and safe and cherished. Being around him was effortless, mostly, and I miss him so much."

Tommy starts sniffling, and then tears roll down his cheeks. "Fuck, I don't want to cry."

Eddie puts a comforting hand on Tommy's shoulder. "Call him. He's a mess and miserable without you. He's been baking so much that the entire station's hemoglobin A1C levels are pre-diabetic. We had to force him to focus on savory cooking."

Tommy shakes his head. "He doesn't want to hear from me. I broke his heart. I'm the last person that should be contacting him."

"He does want to hear from you. He's only been baking and cooking so much to stop himself from contacting you because he wants to give you space and respect your boundaries post-breakup."

"What would I even say? That I panicked and ran? I told him he would break my heart if we moved in together. There's no coming back from that."

Eddie sighs and sets his drink down. "Listen, the first time you ended things with Buck, I told him he was an idiot but to call you anyway. Now it's your turn to be the idiot. Go get your man back. Call him. Talk to him. He'd settle for a text. Just do something! You both are suffering without each other. You don't have to move in with him. He just wants you back in his life."

More tears run down Tommy's face and it turns into full sobs. Eddie scoots closer to him and gives him a hug. Tommy clings to him, sobbing even harder.

After drinks, they stop by a taco place and sober up while eating delicious birria tacos. They go back to Tommy's place, and Eddie sleeps on the couch just to make sure Tommy is alright. Before he falls asleep, he texts Buck.

"If Tommy contacts you, go easy on him. He's an idiot too."

When Tommy wakes up the next morning, he nearly stops breathing when he sees that Evan texted him.

"I miss you." was all it said.

Tommy cradles his phone in his hands for several minutes before pressing the call button. He holds his breath until Evan answers.

"I miss you too," Tommy says.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Fake it 'till you make it || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: You ask Rafe to pretend to be your boyfriend at an event, leading to unexpected tension as the line between pretense and reality blurs.

Warnings: none!

Word count: 927

A/n: inspired by that one scene in blackbird!!!

MASTERLIST

You stood in front of the mirror, applying the final touches to your makeup. Behind you, sprawled out on your bed like he owned the place, was Rafe Cameron, his broad frame stretching out against the sea of throw pillows. He looked maddeningly relaxed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other flipping through a vogue magazine he’d picked up from your nightstand.

His hair was perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up to reveal his tanned forearms, and his khakis were tailored just enough to scream old money without trying too hard. “You know, this is the weirdest thing anyone’s ever asked me to do,” Rafe said, his voice smooth but laced with amusement. “Why not just tell your parents you’re single?”

“Because then they’ll spend the entire event introducing me to every trust fund baby in town,” you retorted, fixing your eyeliner. “Do you think I like asking you for favours?” You added, your voice sharp but distracted. His lips curved into a smirk, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “Feels like you do, actually. First that thing with Sarah, now this… You’re starting to make a habit out of needing me, princess.”

You capped your eyeliner and turned to face him, hands on your hips. “I only need you because you owe me, Cameron. Remember that the next time you want someone to keep Sarah from going nuclear.” He let out a low chuckle, sitting up slightly and resting his weight on his elbows. “Alright, fine. I’ll play along. But pretending to be your boyfriend is a big ask.”

“What exactly does that exactly involve? Hand-holding? Smiling like an idiot?” You turned around, holding your mascara in one hand as you eyed him pointedly. “Just act like you would if I were your girlfriend—grabbing my ass, slipping me tongue, whatever,” you said, your tone clipped but casual, as if you hadn’t just handed him enough material to tease you for years.

Rafe’s grin spread slowly across his face, mischievous and cocky all at once. “Grabbing your ass?” he repeated, his voice dripping with mockery as he raised an eyebrow. You rolled your eyes, already regretting every decision that had led to this moment. “Yes, Cameron. Cop a feel. Do what it takes. Just make it convincing.”

He pushed himself upright, his long legs swinging off the bed as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His smirk never faltered, and his voice dropped an octave as he asked, “Should we practice now?” The air in the room seemed to shift, a charged tension filling the space between you.

You froze for a second, mid-swipe of your lip gloss, before turning to face him fully, one eyebrow raised. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you quipped, the corners of your lips curving into a knowing smirk. “But no, thanks. Now, come help me zip up my dress. Make yourself useful.” Rafe stood slowly, his height and presence somehow making the room feel smaller. “Yes ma’am.”

He crossed the distance to you in a few strides, his eyes trailing over the elegant fabric of your dress. The back was open, the zipper halfway down, exposing the soft curve of your spine. “Turn around,” he said, his voice quieter now, a subtle rasp to it that sent a shiver down your spine. You held your breath as you turned, gathering your hair and lifting it away from your back to expose the open zipper of your dress.

You could feel the heat of his hands before they even touched you, his fingers brushing against your skin as he took hold of the zipper. He didn’t rush. He moved it up slowly, deliberately, as if savouring the moment. When it reached the top, his hands lingered for just a second too long, his thumb grazing your shoulder.

“There,” he murmured, his voice close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your neck. You turned to face him, trying to maintain your composure despite the way your heart seemed to be pounding in your chest. “Thanks,” you said lightly, brushing past him to grab your earrings from the vanity.

But Rafe didn’t move. He stood there, leaning casually against the edge of the vanity, his eyes fixed on you with a smirk that made it clear he was enjoying every second of this. “If I didn’t know better,” he began, his voice slow and teasing, “I’d think you’re actually enjoying this little arrangement.” You met his eyes in the mirror, your lips curving into a small smile as you slid on one earring.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron,” you said, slipping in one final jab. “And keep your hands to yourself unless absolutely necessary.” His laugh was low, rich, and entirely too self-assured. “No promises, princess,” he said, his smirk deepening as he crossed his arms and leaned back.

[cruel-seduction]

James Potter as Your Boyfriend

a/n - I am listening to my romantic playlist on repeat so it might be more cheesy than I intend it to be.

(୨୧) That Infuriatingly Perfect HairJames Potter is the guy who knows his hair is a mess and somehow still uses it as his primary flirting tactic. (Like, sir, did you actually think ruffling your hair would make me swoon? … Okay, maybe a little.) He smirks every time you roll your eyes at him doing it, but the kicker is when you catch him fixing it in a reflection right before seeing you. “Gotta look sharp for my girl,” he says with a wink. (Spoiler: he does not, in fact, look sharp, but you love it anyway.)

(୨୧) The Walking Ego (Who’s Secretly a Softie)He loves to show off in front of you, especially on the Quidditch field. He’ll pull stunts, grinning like he’s the coolest guy in the world, just to hear you cheer his name. (Never mind that he almost fell off his broom that one time; we don’t talk about that.) But when it’s just the two of you, his cocky demeanor drops, and he’s all shy smiles and quiet, “Did you really think I was good out there? Or are you just saying that because you love me?” cue him melting when you reassure him.

(୨୧) His Endless Need for Validation

James is the guy who constantly asks, “Did you see that?!” anytime he does anything remotely impressive, even if it’s just catching a piece of parchment midair. (You could be reading, and he’ll yell, “Love, LOOK!” before performing some ridiculous stunt). He’s a golden retriever in human form, and if you don’t immediately cheer for him, he’ll sulk until you give him a kiss. (You love it, though. Admit it).

(୨୧) His Terrible Jealousy

James acts like he’s the most confident guy alive, but the second someone flirts with you, his ears turn red, and he starts loudly talking about how amazing his girlfriend is. (You: “Subtle, Potter.” Him: “Not subtle, James Potter.”) If you so much as laugh at someone else’s joke, he’ll spend the next hour sulking until you kiss him and say, “No one compares to my idiot.” (He perks up immediately, naturally.)

(୨୧) The Chaotic Pillow Talk

James is that boyfriend who talks nonsense when you’re lying in bed together. One moment, he’s whispering sweet nothings like, “You’re my entire world,” and the next, he’s like, “Do you think Sirius could charm his hair to look like yours? Because I think about it a lot.” (You: “What the actual fuck?” Him: “I’m serious.”) Somehow, you love him more for it.

(୨୧) The Unintentional PDAJames isn’t subtle. At all. He’s the guy who’ll grab your hand in the middle of class, lean over, and whisper, “You look really pretty today,” loud enough for everyone—including Professor McGonagall—to hear. (You’re mortified; he’s grinning like a cat that got the cream.) And when you try to scold him later, he just shrugs and says, “What? I’m not gonna hide how I feel. Everyone should know you’re mine.”

(୨୧) The Emotional ProtectorJames may be a reckless Gryffindor, but when it comes to your emotional well-being, he’s shockingly thoughtful. If you’re upset, he’s the first to notice, even if you try to hide it. He’ll pull you into a quiet corner and say, “What’s wrong, love? You know you can tell me anything.” And if you cry? Oh, this man will hold you so tightly it’s like he’s trying to shield you from the entire world. (He definitely whispers, “I’ve got you, always,” like it’s a solemn vow.)

(୨୧) The Ride-or-Die RomanticJames Potter is the kind of boyfriend who makes you feel like you’re his entire world. He’s got that intense Gryffindor loyalty, and once he’s in love, there’s no turning back. He’ll write you corny notes like, “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, and I’m including winning the House Cup in that list.” (They’re signed with little doodles of a stag and a heart because he’s the absolute worst.)

(୨୧) The Over-the-Top Romantic Gestures

He’ll do big, stupidly romantic things, like charming the stars in the Astronomy Tower to spell out your name (Sirius: “You’re disgusting, mate.” James: “Shut it, Pads, she’s the one”). But he’s also the type to leave little notes in your books, like “Marry me?” and “You’re the sexiest witch alive.” (You’ve found many letters in Hogwarts, A History. Yes, you kept them all.)

(୨୧) The Unexpected Vulnerability

Despite all his confidence, James has quiet moments when he doubts if he’s enough for you. “You could have anyone,” he’ll say softly, tracing patterns on your arm. (His voice cracks, and your heart aches). You always pull him close, reminding him that he’s more than enough, and he’ll smile in that shy, boyish way that makes your chest warm. (You: “You’re my James.” Him: “Always.”)

(୨୧) The King of Over-the-Top Gestures

James doesn’t just love you; he worships you. He’s the guy who’ll book out the entirety of Madam Puddifoot’s just to have a private date (you: “James, this is ridiculous.” him: “Ridiculously romantic, you mean”). But he’ll also sit with you on the Quidditch stands, freezing his arse off, just because he knows you like watching the stars after a match.

(୨୧) The Secret Softie

Yes, he’s cocky. But when it comes to you? This man melts. You mention being tired? Suddenly there’s a hot cup of tea waiting for you in the common room. (You: “How’d you know?” Him: “I’m James Potter. I know everything.”) He’d deny it if anyone else asked, but he lives to see you smile. His whole demeanor changes when it’s just the two of you—less bravado, more tenderness. (If you catch him staring at you all lovesick, just know he’s planning your wedding in his head.)

(୨୧) The “I’m Your Biggest Cheerleader” Energy

James will hype you up like his life depends on it. Got an essay due? “No problem, love, you’ve got this!” Need help with a spell? He’ll spend hours practicing with you until you nail it. And when you do, he’s out here clapping like you just won the Quidditch Cup. (Sirius: “Mate, chill, it’s a summoning charm.” James: “IT’S A BIG DEAL, PADFOOT.”) You can’t even be annoyed because the way he beams at you makes your heart flutter every damn time.

(୨୧) The Ego and the Heart to Match

James knows he’s hot—and he’ll never let you forget it. (You: “You’re insufferable.” Him: “You mean irresistible.”) But here’s the kicker: despite his cockiness, he’s never made you feel less than cherished. He’s the type to blow off quidditch practice just to study with you for your OWLs, or charm your quill to write faster when he sees you stressing. (You didn’t even ask. He just noticed.) He may act like the world revolves around him, but you’re the sun he orbits.

(୨୧) The Bravado

This man will not shut up about how good he is at everything—Quidditch, hexes, kissing you senseless against a bookshelf. And the worst part? He’s not wrong. (You: “Cocky much?” Him: “Confident, sweetheart. There’s a difference.”) But then there’s the unexpected softness, like when he presses his forehead against yours after, whispering, “You’re all I’ll ever want.” It’s the mix of arrogance and vulnerability that leaves you completely undone every time. (Yes, you’re ruined. No, you’re not mad about it.)

(୨୧) The “I’d Die for You” Loyalty

James would go to the ends of the earth for you—and you know it. He’s reckless when it comes to protecting you, stepping in front of danger without a second thought. (You: “Stop being so stupidly brave!” Him: “I can’t help it; it’s in the Potter genes. Do you want your kids to have these genes??”) Even in his most infuriating moments, you can’t deny how deeply he loves you. He’s yours, completely and irrevocably, and Merlin, does it feel good to be loved by James Potter.

[paverage-blog]

As someone who is relatively new to fanfics, I have to say I don’t really understand some of these interactive processes. To me, a fic is like a home cooked meal. I may taste something and decide it’s not for me or I may go back for thirds — but my ability to consume or enjoy it at all is due to the person who created it. As I would never sit down and eat a meal someone cooked without saying thanks (and gushing about what I loved most), I can’t really fathom reading and just walking away without saying thanks. In all but a very few instances I hit the kudos button because it cost me $0.00. Even if I didn’t think it was the greatest thing I’ve ever read, I’m at least saying “thanks, you did the damn thing and kudos to you for putting it out there.”

It seems like a level of rudeness I can’t fathom to not say how much I enjoyed a story if I did (to the point that I’ve been mulling over a fic I read last night all and it’s bothered me I didn’t leave a comment and only a kudo - I will be fixing that when I log in tonight because even if the fic is “old” or other people already said it, the author deserves to know the story haunted me all day and that I enjoyed it.) You’re privileged enough to enjoy someone’s art (which sometimes is a huge investment of their time and efforts) for free. It feels like the least I can do is acknowledge (again, for free!) that I enjoyed it or that I want to show the author support to keep writing.

As a writer, I admit that I spend a lot of time squinting at hits vs. kudos and trying to extrapolate if people enjoyed. I assume that if my work has hits but not kudos that someone read (or attempted it) and decided they didn’t like it/it wasn’t for them and that it was so bad they didn’t want to even give me a thumbs up for making an effort. I assume this, because I assume other people consume fic like I do. Reading OP’s story really makes me scratch my head… like people may pull up a chair to my table where I’ve spent weeks “cooking up” something, enjoy it, and walk off without even saying thanks…and then go tell other people how great it was? No disrespect to people who don’t kudo/comment on everything they enjoy, but I guess I’m just stunned people wouldn’t even bother to click a button to say thanks if they thought it was a worthwhile effort.

Idk, I gotta go log in and tell someone how much I enjoyed something I read yesterday and keep being an outlier, I guess, lol.

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[gingersxng]

Call A Friend

Pairing: f!reader x Mingi

Genre: smut 18+

Summary: when you’ve tried everything to make yourself satisfied and nothing helps, the only thing left to try is to call a friend, who is more than happy to help you.

Notes: freaky friendship??, reader is very horny, so is Mingi, mentioning sex toys, phone sex, dirty talk, horndog! Mingi, lots of teasing, fingering, stripping, nipple/breast play, praising, jerking off, edging, mingi cums on himself, pet names (baby & beautiful), Mingi wanna fuck you!!

Words: 1.4k

You were alone in your apartment, you had a rough day at work and your whole body was aching. It was aching to be touched. This feeling had been going on for at least three days, a constant ache between your thighs that begged for release.

Playing with yourself wasn’t enough to make you completely satisfied, using the vibrator or the big dildo was much but nothing could fix your horniness.

Laying on your bed, you looked up at the ceiling and thought about what to do. Then suddenly, you remembered something in the back of your head. Maybe you should call Mingi? He was a horny freak too, ofc he was a much bigger freak than you but he if someone would understand your needs.

With your bottom lip stuck between your teeth, you reached for your phone, your fingers trembled with anticipation. You scrolled through your contacts. Your eyes landed on the picture with a pink haired guy biting his sunglasses.

Without hesitation, you clicked on his number. The phone rang, and with each signal, you got hornier.

“Fuck, can’t he answer” you muttered.

"Hello?" His voice echoed through the phone, deep and rich.

"Mingi, it's Y/n" you purred, you sure sounded needy. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Y/n" he rumbled. "It's been a while. What a pleasant surprise. I was just about to start my evening workout, but I can make an exception for you."

His words sent a rush of heat to your core. You bit your lip, your mind already spinning with naughty thoughts. "Oh, I'd love to join you for your workout, Mingi. I could use a good... stretch." You said seductively.

Mingi let out a low chuckle, the sound resonating in your ear. "I can tell you're up to something. What's on your mind, beautiful?"

"I was feeling a little... restless tonight" you confessed. "And I thought of you. I wanted to hear your voice again, and maybe... do something a little naughty together."

"Oh, Y/n" he said, his voice dropping an octave. "You know how to tempt me don’t you? I'm all ears. Tell me what you want."

You took a deep breath, your fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. "I want you to talk to me, Mingi. I want to hear your voice as I touch myself."

There was a moment of silence, and you could almost feel the intensity of his gaze through the phone. "Fuck. I forgot you’re just a horny freak like me." He chuckled. You closed your eyes, picturing his handsome face, imagining his strong hands on your body.

"Now, Y/n" he began, his voice taking on a seductive tone. "I want you to take off your clothes. Slowly. Let your fingers glide over your skin, feel every inch of your beautiful body."

Obeying his command, you stood up and began to undress. Your fingers fumbled with the buttons on your top. You let the fabric slide off the shoulders, exposing your lace bra. Your breasts heaved with each breath, the nipples already filled with arousal.

"That's it, Y/n" Mingi whispered. "Let me see you. Show me how beautiful you are."

You unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the floor, revealing your big tits. Your hands cupped them, squeezing gently, as if offering them to him. "Like what you see, Mingi?" You teased.

"God, yes" he groaned. "Your tits are perfect. Pinch your nipples for me, Y/n. Make them harden."

You did as he asked, you rolled your sensitive buds between your fingers, moaning softly at the sensation. "They're so sensitive, Mingi. I can't wait to feel your mouth on them."

"I'll suck them so hard, you'll scream my name" he purred. "Now, slide your hands down your body, tease yourself for me."

Your fingers trailed down your stomach, the skin tingled at his words. Your slipped your fingers beneath the waistband of your skirt, feeling the heat radiating from your aching core. With a slow, deliberate motion, you pushed your skirt down, revealing your lacy panties.

Mingi’s mind almost went 404, thinking about you all naked on the bed for him. "Now, touch yourself. Let me hear how wet you are."

Your fingers dipped beneath the silk fabric, finding your slick folds. You let out a gasp as you touched yourself. "I'm so wet, Mingi. I can't remember the last time I felt this aroused."

"Good girl" he encouraged. "Now, slide a finger inside. Feel how tight you are."

You did as he instructed, your breath hitched as you penetrated yourself. "Oh, Mingi, I'm so tight. I need more. Please, tell me what to do."

"Tease your clit, Y/n" he commanded. "Circle it with your fingers, but don't touch it directly. Not yet."

Your fingers danced around the swollen bud, your hips thrusted eagerly as you wanted relief. "I need more, Mingi. Please, I'm so close."

"Not yet baby" he said, his voice firm yet gentle. "I want you to edge. Tease yourself until you're right on the brink, and then stop. I want to hear you beg for release."

You whimpered, your body trembled with need. Mingi's voice was like a drug, pushing you further into the depths of pleasure. You complied, your fingers worked your clit with expert precision, bringing yourself to the very edge of orgasm before pulling away.

"Please, Mingi" you begged. "I need to cum. Please, let me finish."

"Not yet" he said. "I want to hear you beg some more. Tell me how much you want it."

Your body was on fire, your juices were flowing freely. "I want it so bad, Mingi. I'm so close. Please, please let me cum."

"That's it, Y/n" he urged. "Beg for it. Tell me how good it will feel when you finally let go."

"Fuck Mingi!" you panted. "Fuck me!!."

"Now, Y/n" he growled. "Let go. Cum for me, beautiful."

His words were like a trigger, you came on the spot. Your body shook as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you. You cried out his name with your fingers still working your clit.

"Fuck Y/n" Mingi breathed, his voice filled with satisfaction. "That was incredible. I so wish I could fuck you right now."

Your eyes widened at his sudden words. “Uhmm…” you suddenly went quiet. You heard a low groan on the other side of the phone.

"I'm hard as a rock right now" he purred. "Listening to you pleasuring yourself made me so horny, could you help me?."

A wicked smile spread across your face. "Oh, I'd love to help you, Mingi. What do you have in mind?"

"I want you to talk to me, Y/n" he said, his voice low and husky. "Tell me how you'd suck my cock. Describe it to me in detail, and make me cum with your words."

You almost choked, you knew Mingi were a horndog but you two never actually got to bed together. You tried to picture what his dick would look like, it had to be big, thick, veiny… you imagined the feel of it in your mouth. "I'd start by licking the tip, Mingi. Tasting your precum, letting it tease my tongue. Then, I'd take you deep, as deep as I could, until my lips touched the base."

"Fuck, Y/n" he groaned. "That's exactly what I need to hear. Keep going, baby."

"I'd suck you hard" you continued, your voice growing bolder. "My lips are tight around your shaft, my tongue swirling, teasing the underside. I'd look up at you with lust filled eyes, watching your pleasure."

"Yes" he hissed. "I'm so fucking close. Tell me how you'd swallow it."

"I'd take every drop" you purred. "I'd suck you dry, feeling your cock twitch in my mouth as you cum. I'd savor the taste of you, wanting more."

His breathing was ragged now, and you knew you had him right where you wanted him. His low moan echoed through the phone, followed by a series of guttural grunts. "Oh, Y/n... fuck I'm... cumming!"

You listened as he climaxed, his voice could make you cum again. The thought of him stroking his hard cock, imagining your mouth on him, was enough to make you ache for more.

His hoodie was stained in white thick cum.

"That was incredible, Y/n" he breathed. "I've never had a phone call like that before. Thank you."

"The pleasure was all mine" you replied. "What about doing this more often? You shyly asked.

"I don’t know about that.. phone sex was good but I’d rather fuck you next time”

[darlinluxx]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐞 𝐁𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐤 ౨ৎ

pairing : kang sae byeok x fem!reader

warnings : nsfw

warnings for sfw : tiniest mention of sickness

warnings for nsfw : dom!saebyeok, sub!reader, tiny mention of knife play, degradation, strap

a/n : just thought i’d start off with some headcannons <3 if you have requests, feel free to message me <3

- Saebyeok probably wouldn’t be the first one to say “i love you”

- when she did say those three words, she would feel relieved. after all, she has been holding it in since she laid eyes on you

- and she doesn’t say it much, instead, she shows her love through different ways

- like remembering the smallest details — like how you take your coffee (or if you don’t like coffee), which side of the bed you prefer, or your favorite movies

- she has a habit of “borrowing” things of yours and never returning them

- she absolutely loves seeing you in her clothes

- the first time Saebyeok fell asleep on the couch with your head on her chest, it’s a bigger milestone than your first kiss

- Saebyeok struggles with accepting help or care when she’s sick. she’s used to acting like she’s fine. the first time she calls you because she has a fever is a huge moment of trust

- gives you a spare key for her apartment

- she’s not big on pet names, but i think from time to time she would call you, “darling,” “baby,” or “princess”

- always saying things like “i missed you,” “did you eat?” or “are you warm enough?”

- she expresses worry more through actions since she’s not the most comfortable with saying things. she’ll fix the bow on the back of your hair when you’re walking ahead of her

- when she’s upset, she goes quiet rather than angry

- Saebyeok’s love language is 100% quality time

- i think we can call come to an agreement that she’s not a fan of pda

- she will hold hands with you while walking though

- in private, she would like physical contact though. she’s always finding small ways to touch you

- loves to give you hugs — her arms wrapped around you as she holds you in her embrace, resting her chin on your head as she murmurs sweet words to you

- her favorite form of physical affection is playing with your hair while you lay on her chest as you two watch movies

- we can also all come to an agreement that this woman is PROTECTIVE !!

- is always near you out in public like a personal bodyguard

- carries her pocket knife everywhere

- while walking together, Saebyeok always positions herself on the street side of the sidewalk

- and what if i said she memorizes your schedule (without meaning to) just to know you’re safe ??

- the first time you meet Cheol, she’s more nervous than either of you

- Saebyeok doesn’t even realize that she leaves things at your apartment

- the first time she calls your apartment “home,” she doesn’t even notice—it feels natural

- she has a specific spot on the couch in your living room that becomes “her spot”

- Saebyeok is always the first to wake up. she’ll make coffee for herself and attempt to make toast but burns it. so once you wake up you’ll have to help her with cooking

- she keeps track of important dates, she never needs a reminder for your anniversary or your birthday

- she’s surprisingly good at domestic tasks. years of self-reliance made her practical

- she stress cleans when anxious. you can tell when something’s bothering her

- she loves late night talks. whether it be sharing goals in life or random thoughts, she’ll always enjoy it

- Saebyeok’s protective but not possessive, having learned the difference between love and control

- has trouble accepting gifts but puts incredible thought into giving them. no matter how many people she has to pickpocket, she will get you something she knows you’ve been wanting for a long time

- never makes promises she’s not absolutely certain she can keep

- she always keeps her promises

- Saebyeok keeps a journal of things that make you smile (she won’t ever admit it)

- is secretly good at video games but pretends to be bad so you can “teach” her

- loves sharing airpods with you when you two are on the subway or walking

- has a (secret) playlist of songs that remind her of you

nsfw ౨ৎ

- she’s a top / dom !!! anyone who says different is a liar

- okay and what if i said she’s lowkey into knife play ?? then what

- Saebyeok really focuses on making you feel good. gets satisfaction on seeing you cum

- she’s usually more on the rougher side, but if you want her to be gentle, she will be no questions asked

- “don’t get all shy now. it’s just me.” when you’re getting shy or nervous with her

- mix of praise and degradation !! “you’re so dirty for me.” “you look so pretty cumming on my fingers.”

- could eat you out for the rest of her life

- loves when you wear dresses or skirts cause it gives her the opportunity to slide her hand closer and closer to where you need her. and she knows. but she can’t resist teasing you

- loves fucking you with a strap just because ?? especially in front of a mirror

- sweetest aftercare, so so gentle with you. as if you’re made out of glass

[remedyturtles]

16 with pb and j :D

thank you my beloved @bluesgras for the prompt!!! big hugs mate hope you like it :D

wordcount 1.1k, pre-series

16. "You were calling out, in your sleep. You said my name."

The scream cut off as soon as Mikey realized it was coming from his own throat, choking on the sound, hands pushing back against the touch that was shaking him awake. Immediately the touch disengaged, and it was Donnie's voice that said, "You are safe, Angelo. You are having a nightmare."

That made a lot more sense. Pulling ragged breaths through a sore throat, Mikey blinked the stars out of his eyes and hunched over. After a moment, Donnie shuffled and turned the lamp on. The light helped the pulsing terror that sat heavy on his chest. It brought the silhouette of his big brother into the light, the frayed long-sleeve sleep shirt that said 'I identify as a problem' and bare feet against the carpet. No goggles or even mask, looking like he'd just woken up moments ago. 

"I'm sorry." Mikey rasped, swallowing hard. The panic was living inside him, making it hard to think, but he knew that Donnie didn't like to be disturbed. "Did I wake you up?"

Donnie hesitated. Pulling at the end of his sleeve, thumbing the holes there. He said, "You were calling out, in your sleep." 

Mikey winced. "Sorry. Thanks for waking me up. You can go back to bed now."

Donnie didn't. He stood there, then said, "You said my name."

Oh. Mikey's stomach dropped hard and fast as he remembered his dream, and he bit his lip. All the denials fell short before forming, because… he was really glad that Donnie was here right now, actually. 

Donnie gestured awkwardly to the bed. "Do you want me to join you?"

"You don't have to." Mikey said immediately. 

"If I didn't want to, then I wouldn't offer." Donnie said, promptly. 

That was true. Mikey shuffled over to give him room, tugging the blankets along to keep them separate. Except that Donnie ignored that, reaching over to flap the rumpled blankets over both of their legs. Then he perfectly arranged the pillows to sit up, turning to look at Mikey in the lamp-light. He said, "I don't like the thought that something about me would upset you that much. Tell me what the issue is, and I will fix it."

Mikey gave him a laugh, a little wet, and swiped at his eyes. "You don't upset me, D. Don't worry about it."

Donnie fixed him with a look that would work a lot better with his painted-on brows, but luckily Mikey knew him well enough to fill in the arched incredulity even without them. "Michelangelo, you are my only little brother. I reserve exclusive right to worry about you every minute of the day if I so please. And especially if you are roused in the middle of night with screaming nightmares."

Mikey sniffed miserably, giving his eyes another futile swipe. He wasn't crying so much as all stuffed up and uncomfortable, like he was bloated with unwelcome emotions. "Just because someone's younger doesn't mean they can't worry about their older siblings."

Donnie leaned forward so he was in Mikey's line of sight, and gave a crooked smile. "Heavens, don't you dare be worried about me."

"I can if I want." Mikey insisted, jutting up his chin, but then hesitating. "That wasn't… that wasn't why, though."

"Oh?" Donnie stayed persistently in his line of sight, even ducking his head to keep his gaze when Mikey tipped it downwards. "Do tell."

Mikey struggled with keeping it inside, mouth wobbling, but he'd never been good at holding back. Not when there was always so many sets of hands were right there, waiting to give him whatever he wanted. Safety and security and –

"It was dark." Mikey began, because he hated the dark. Everyone knew that. "And – and I couldn't find my way home. There were monsters and – and they were chasing me – and I … I wanted you to come save me."

Donnie eyes went wide, jaw going slack, and he said, surprised, "Me?"

Mikey nodded, tears welling and irritably swiping at his cheeks again to stop them from falling. He sniffed and said, "I was scared. And I wanted you. And then I woke up and you're here, so I feel better."

"Me?" Donnie said again, weaker. "Not Raph? Not Leo? Not Dad? Me?"

"You're my big brother too." Mikey said, soft. "You just said that."

"Yeah, but there's no way I'm better than –" Donnie cut himself off and shook his head. "Of course I'm an amazing big brother, but for like – fixing your things and reading stories and hiding with you when everyone else is being stupid. Not the one you want when the monster is chasing you."

Mikey headbutted him, somewhere between playful and hard enough to hurt. "Except you are. Are you saying you wouldn't help me if a monster was chasing me?"

"Of course I would." Donnie rubbed his forehead, frowning. "I would absolutely anything I could to protect you. But I am not the most optimal choice for this situation."

Mikey shrugged. "I don't know. My subconscious wanted you."

Donnie bit his lip, looking a little emotional himself. He opened his arms, and Mikey crawled into them without any hesitation. All tight limbs around his big brother, who made him feel so safe, so secure, so loved. 

His grip was strong, and Donnie pressed their heads together. He mumbled in Mikey's ear, "I suppose subconscious knows that you are my precious baby brother and if you call for me, I will come. And I will do everything I can, even if I need to destroy everyone and everything to keep you safe."

"Leo said you're not allowed to do villain monologues past midnight anymore." Mikey said, muffled by Donnie's shirt. 

Donnie's laugh was just a little evil. "Oh, darling Michelangelo. Your faith in me will never be mislaid. I would burn cities and salt the earth for you. I would tear apart the laws of the universe and rewrite new ones at your bidding. I would – stop laughing!"

Mikey couldn't help it, giggling helplessly, clutching the fabric and pressing close for the comfort it provided. His heart swelled with care, that incredibly special kind of care that only Donnie could provide. He said, the tears nearly gone from his voice, all his fears wiped away like chalk off a blackboard, "I love you so so much."

"Mmmm." Donnie hummed against the top of his head, rocking them back and forth slightly, like he was cradling Mikey. It lit something young and safe inside him. "I love you for every single star in the universe."

"How many is that?" Mikey whispered.

"At least two hundred billion-trillion." Donnie replied, instant and smug. 

"Well I love you three hundred billion-trillion." Mikey said.

Donnie gasped, mock-affronted. "Gasp! How could I be so foolish!"

Mikey giggled again, boneless against his big brother, the gentle rock back and forth, the warm blankets, and he was so, so glad he called for Donnie.

[svgarseason]

𖹭 cw: mildly suggestive, fluff

══════════════𖹭 MINORS DNI 𖹭═════════════

PT 1 ⋆ PT 2 ⋆ PT 3 ⋆ PT 4 ⋆ PT 5 [SOON]

English professor Nanami knew you were having relationship issues. Your boyfriend called him from a blocked number and told him to stay away from you. He made many not so eloquent accusations and threats before Professor Nanami calmly invited the man to put him in a position where he would be forced to defend himself.

Professor Nanami sincerely wishes that he would. Every time he thinks about the disgusting way the man spoke of you, he sees red. You deserve so much better than some insecure prick who steals numbers off your phone and talks about you like you're garbage.

Professor Nanami resists bringing it up with you, he knows you well enough to realize that it would only embarrass you. Although it pains him to see your face a little more drawn and tired for the next couple of days, he knows you are strong. He noticed that you changed your phone background from a picture of you with a man to a picture of you and what appears to be a young sibling. This is heartening. He hopes you have stopped inflicting that loser upon yourself.

Since he can't talk to you about it, he brings you coffee just the way you like it when you forget. He asks you if you've eaten when you don't take your lunch break. He thinks he understands why you are avoiding the cafeteria and the parking lot at this time of day, so he brings you a sandwich and soup from his favorite cafe across the street. It's hard to hold your gaze when you look at him the way you do after he offers it to you.

Even harder than that is looking at you stretched out on your belly asleep on the couch in his office. Hands tucked under your cheek, lips parted, bare legs peeking from beneath the blanket just below the curve of your ass, hair falling over the edge. It caught him off gaurd, that's why his heart lurches and his skin crawls with sparks of heat. That's why he has to step back into the hallway and take a deep breath, try to think of something unpleasant to combat the heat blooming low in his guts. That's what he tells himself, although he's not sure there's much of a point in maintaining the self delusion anymore. You are waking up when he steps back inside.

Professor Nanami 's mind is a whirlwind of thoughts before he even confirms with you that you've been sleeping on campus. It isn't safe. You must not be parking in the parking lot, they close that. You must park down the street. The building is locked at night. Gates are locked. What if you had some sort of medical emergency? No. You can't sleep here. He knows immediately that you've misunderstood him when he sees the way your face falls.

"You can stay with me," he hears himself say the words, drowning out the voice of reason telling him it's wildly inappropriate, that it can only end badly. Perhaps there is still a point in deluding himself, because he needs to be the one to fix this. "I have a spare bedroom. Just until you figure things out. You don't have to explain anything," he is saying but you are already nodding and smiling. Then you are off the couch in a blur of motion, which is a relief because the last thing he needs right now is to get a good look at you in you little tank and shorts. You are hugging him tight around the waist, cheek pressed into his chest, thanking him.

Professor Nanami pats you on the back, fighting for his life not to slip his hands around your waist and let his fingers map out the skin beneath your top. With herculean effort,he peels himself away from the warm crush of your body, the maddening scent of you. He is quick to take a seat at his desk, coat in his lap hiding the evidence his true feelings until you leave to shower and dress, cursing his perversion. Hard from a simple hug. How will he tolerate you living in his house?

𖹭 a/n: just want to say thanks for reading. Really appreciate you guys interacting. I'll be done with this series after a few more parts, so feel free to send me requests (:

[floralscented]

ㅤ ㅤㅤmy boy's a mechanic! . . . charlie baker.

────────────────────────────────────────────

you knew nothing about cars. not a thing. you put the key in the ignition, the engine started, and that was about it. being an only child, your dad thought that he'd make your life easier by never letting you struggle. that was how he ended up doing all of your mechanic work, sometimes even pumping your gas for you.

sure, it was nice; being spoiled always was. but the downsides came quickly when your parents were out of town, and your car spluttered to a stop on the side of the road.

couldn't call your dad, not wanting to stress him out. couldn't call your mom, because she'd tell your dad, and of course they would have come home to help you, but how awful would it be to be the sole reason their mini vacation was ruined?

so you called charlie. charlie was incredible self-sufficient; knew how to cook, worked maintenance on his family's cars, could fix most plumbing and technical issues around his house. all-in-all, he was a perfect choice to call in your troubles.

you stood outside in the blazing summer heat, the hood of your car propped open, and you staring inside at the engine and the mechanics, seeing a lot and understanding none of it.

"right, so you see the gas cap?" charlie's voice scratches through the receiver and into your ear. "open it, like you're fillin' your tank."

your arms cross over your chest, a little whine falling out of your mouth. "charlie, i have plenty of gas. i'm not going over there. it's somethin' with the engine or... something."

"mhm," charlie hums and clears his throat, "go to the side of the car, baby."

you bristle, slamming the hood of the car shut with your freed hand. "so, what, you want me to just look in there and see how full of gas my car definitely is?"

"i want you to look in there and make sure it's gas." he's always been patient with you, but it was clear that he had siblings, from the way it came so easily to talk back to you. "from what you're sayin', with the terrible grindin' noises and the splutters, could have been siphoned and replaced."

"hm."

charlie snorts. there's rustling on his end, and then his voice is back and clear. "hm. don't give me attitude, baby, i'll leave you on the side of the road."

the growl in your throat is entirely made up of the aggression starting to build inside of you. "you leave me on the side of the road, charlie baker, we're breaking up."

"no," charlie says, drawling the word out, and there's more scratchy sounds, like he's running the phone cord beneath his shirt and rustling it. "--you're brea'ing up. where r'you?"

"leaving the city. rural backroads or something." well, this was just great. car was maybe out of gas, engine was maybe shot, and you were without cell signal on the side of the road. you whine all over again. "charlie."

charlie sighs. "m'comin', okay? lemme grab s'tools and--" he cuts out, and then the line drops. you flip your phone shut and throw it in the open window of your car in fury. it wasn't his fault. none of this was charlie's fault. but you were definitely allowed to be angry when you were stuck on the side of the road for god knew how long.

the answer was twelve minutes. you sit in your driver's seat, watching the time tick by on the clock of your radio, and twelve minutes later you see the rusty outline of charlie's truck roll up behind you.

"supposed to have your hazards on when you're pulled off like this," he says immediately upon his arrival, and then he presses a kiss to your forehead. "hi baby."

your mouth twists into a devastated pout. "don't be sweet with me when you tried to tell me this was all because i'm out of gas."

his lips twitch, and he reaches up with the hand not holding a toolbox to adjust the brim of his red baseball cap. "'course it's not out of gas. your tire blew."

"what?" your shock is audible, leaning half out of the driver's side window to look at your two tires. sure enough, the back driver's side one was flat. charlie's dimples poke into his cheeks in his innocent grin. "why didn't you say that?"

"why didn't you say that?" charlie shoots back, bending down to drop the toolbox into the grass. "i can't see your tires over a phone, baby."

your eyes roll again, and charlie laughs. "i'll get it all taken care of, honey." he circles around to your trunk, pushing it open. "aren't you so glad now that i made you get that spare tire 'stead of ice cream a few weeks ago?"

"no." your voice is grumbly, punctuated by the pout of your mouth. "it was at least eighty bucks more than a vanilla cone with sprinkles, no cherry."

charlie gives you a look, but his eyes glimmer all the same. "i should make you change this, since you wanna have an attitude about my graciousness."

he lugs the tire out of your trunk, rolling it over to rest against the backdoor. "no, you know what?" he continues, strong arms crossing over his broad chest. "i'll teach you. come n' dirty up that dress, baby."

as much as you want to protest, it was thoughtful of him, to not coddle you like your father spent the entirety of your life doing. having eleven siblings couldn't have been easy, but it'd turned charlie into an expert on how to deal with the likes of you.

so you watch him change out your tires, explaining each step along the way, making you dirty up your hands ( and your dress ) to show him that you were absorbing his instructions.

and when charlie circles around your car to turn it on, check if the system was reading the tire pressure right or whatever it was that he'd said, you can hear it from your perch against the door. the ding of the low fuel indicator.

charlie breaks into a cackle. "go ahead and tell me again how full of gas your car is?"

"shut up," you grumble, tossing a wad of ripped out grass at him.

"more like my baby's full of shit, i think."

you lunge forward to push at his shoulder with a laugh, and charlie takes the time to grab your wrist and tug you into his lap. his foot hooks underneath the car door to shut it behind you, his other hand reaching backwards to flip the hazards on. it was the right thing to do, after all, even though the car was fine now.

they didn't need someone rolling up next to them with charlie's hands up the skirt of your dress.

────────────────────────────────────────────

this one's to u @starzify who dared me to make more. and to u, u, u, and u, my fellow charlie baker lovebots 🙂‍↕ @deansbeer, @titsout4jackles, & @ultravi0lence14

[thefemigirl]

★ Embrace Uncertainty for True Happiness

I recently started reading this amazing book about Emotional Intelligence and it totally opened my eyes to how important it is in our daily lives. Emotional Intelligence isn’t just about understanding our feelings—it’s also about being flexible and open to whatever life throws our way.

Just imagine this: You’ve set your heart on landing a specific job right after university. You imagine how perfect it will be working there, you already know how you'll organise your desk, and window shopping your future office outfits. But when things don’t go as planned i.e. you don't get the job, you feel crushed and start doubting yourself and feel you're not good enough or just plain unlucky in life. Personally I've been there TOO many times. This fixed mindset can blind you to other awesome opportunities that might be just as fulfilling.

However, I have some tips from the book on how to emotionally manage these kinds of situations!

▸ Step 1: Stay Open-Minded

Tell yourself, “I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m open to learning and growing from whatever comes my way.” Let go of those rigid expectations and embrace life’s unpredictability.

Why it matters: Staying open-minded helps you adapt to new situations and discover unexpected joys.

Real Talk: I once had a super fixed idea of becoming a neurosurgeon (brain doctor), but when I left highschool early, I thought I would be a failure forever. Then a Software Development apprenticeship opportunity popped up, I decided to give it a shot. It turned out to be one of the best decisions I ever made!

▸ Step 2: Focus on the Present

Make the most of your current experiences instead of always planning for some future “perfect” situation. Ask yourself, “What’s good about this moment right now?”

How to do it: Try practicing mindfulness through meditation or just take a few minutes each day to appreciate your surroundings.

Pro Tip: Start a gratitude journal. Every day, jot down three things you’re thankful for in the present moment. It’s a game-changer!

▸ Step 3: Embrace Growth in All Experiences

When challenges come your way, look for opportunities to learn or grow. Instead of labelling something as entirely good or bad, ask, “What can I take from this experience to make me stronger or wiser?”

Action step: After any setback, take a moment to reflect on what you’ve learned and how you can use it moving forward.

Personal Insight: During a tough breakup, instead of dwelling on the pain, I focused on what the relationship taught me about my needs and boundaries. This helped me grow and prepare for healthier relationships in the future.

Building emotional intelligence isn’t something you do overnight—it’s a continuous journey of self-discovery and adaptation.

So, as you navigate your own path, remember to embrace the uncertainty and trust that each experience, whether good or bad, is shaping you into a stronger, wiser version of yourself.

Here’s to your amazing journey ahead,

[parfaitblogs]

hard times ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid doesn’t follow through one time, and you really hate that he has a psychology degree.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort tags: daddy issues. shoutout to the girls with inconsistent fathers this ones for you. established relationship. readers mentioned wearing makeup, a dress and heels. rational bf!spencer reid fuck i would hate a profiler bf. word count: 1.8k a/n: not a trauma dump fic not a vent fic do not read into this fic at all don't even start to speculate on my life and where these emotions came from they're all fake made up not real make pretend. no photos no aesthetics just me, a tumblr account, and a dream for this baddie.

In all your months of dating Spencer Reid, he had never forgotten anything. Not a date, not a work event. Or, at least, he's never forgotten to call. Even when you had been so busy one week you could barely spare him more than a ten minute phone call a day, he remembered what was going on in your life enough to be there for you. 

A false blanket of security draped over your relationship, is what it is now. 

A blanket he seemingly had no trouble ripping off you a random Friday evening, throwing it in a fire and watching it — and your trust in him — burn into dust. 

Perhaps a tad dramatic for what was happening, but you were always one for theatrics when it came to your emotions. Usually, he welcomed it. He was (abashedly) similar, after all.

Not that he was even here to welcome it. 

You'd looked pretty. You'd felt pretty. Past tense, for your shoes were strewn somewhere across the floor after throwing them in frustration, and your makeup was ruined after unwelcome tears had streamed down your face an hour ago. You had been ready for a dinner date you and Spencer had scheduled in only three days ago — penciled in, for you never knew what his work schedule was going to end up being.

You're not sure how long you sat in that one spot on the couch, mind going through every single possible scenario that could've happened between the text he sent you that morning saying he was excited to go out tonight, and the lack of his appearance this evening. 

The logical conclusion is that he got too busy, and he forgot. But Spencer Reid's whole thing is that he doesn't forget. Oftentimes he considers it a curse. You never really agreed with him. Until now, it seemed. 

The less than logical, emotionally driven conclusion, is that he actively chose to stay at work to avoid coming home because he didn't want to see you. Or he didn't actually want to go to dinner, and he didn't know how to tell you. Or his team offered to go out and he'd rather hang out with them instead of you. 

Really, the reasons are endless, and any rational conclusion was lost on you. Mind swallowing you whole as you continued to stare off into space, visibly shaking and head beginning to pound from the crying.

A glance at the clock told you it was near midnight by the time you heard the door handle rattle and twist open, tired, puffy eyes blinking to adjust to the light filtering in from the apartment hallway. 

"Hey. Why're you out here? It's late. I thought you'd already be in bed," Spencer rambles absentmindedly, voice so disconnected from you it only made the ache in your chest worse. As he flicks the light on and assesses the state of the apartment, he asks, "What're your shoes doing on the floor?"

You blink a few times. Was he pretending to be dumb on purpose? 

You stand on cramped legs, stretching them for the first time since you'd sat unknowingly on the couch nearly six hours ago, dress bunching around your waist. You didn't bother to fix it. 

Like a switch, he clicks, his bag sliding off his shoulder and falling to the floor with a thud, realisation settling into his features. 

"Our date. Oh, God, I'm so sorry, angel."

"Yeah. I'm sure," you croak, voice hoarse as you pick up your shoes pathetically in front of him, the heels clacking together as you walk towards your bedroom door. 

He calls your name, and after you make no effort to return to him, you hear his feet against the wooden flooring, carrying himself to you.

You're in the ensuite, beginning to take makeup off you probably should've removed four hours ago. It was stupid hope you held on to, anyways. 

"You're upset. I know. It was awful of me to forget our date," he stands in the doorway, staring at you through the mirror. Even indirectly, you can't make eye contact with him. 

"You forgot," you repeat back to him, almost dumbfounded. "You forgot?"

"Forgot isn't... the best word," his fingers dig into his eyes for a split second, and you watch him think. "I got caught up at work. We had a case, then we didn't have a case, then we did, so we started looking into it, and time just... escaped. From all of us."

"Time just escaped."

Your parroting wasn't doing much to further the conversation, and you watch as Spencer averts his gaze to the floor to take a deep breath, before his eyes land back on you again.

"It isn't the best reason, I know. But it's the truth," he says. 

"Uh-huh," you mumble, discarding your cotton pads stained with your makeup into the trash. 

"Can you stop being evasive?" he catches your wrist before you can return to the sink. "Talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?" you ask, almost earnestly. "It's okay that you forgot, Spencer. I won't take it personally at all, and things between us are just dandy!"

"I want to know what you're actually feeling," he replies, voice flat with his irritation, before he forces himself to soften it. "I can't reassure you if all I know is that you're angry."

"Hurt. Forgotten. Disregarded. Disliked. Irritated we're doing this in our fucking bathroom."

At that, he leads you into the bedroom, turning the ensuite light off. "Forgotten and disregarded are synonyms, so I'm assuming that's what you feel the most."

"You're the psyche expert," you mumble, bitterly.

"I'm not trying to be your psyche expert," he quips, and your heart sinks. "Why're you feeling forgotten?"

You stare at him, dumbfounded, for a beat. "Because my boyfriend quite literally forgot about me?"

"I didn't forget about you—"

"—No, you're right. You just forgot about the date that you literally fucking texted me about this morning!" you snap, voice rising in a way that makes you cringe. Yet, you can't stop it. "You! Spencer Reid! Forgot!"

"Don't yell at me, please," he takes a step towards you; you take a step back. 

"Why did you forget? Did you choose to? Are you pretending that you forgot about it all to save your ass?"

"No," he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I didn't. I told you what happened. You're choosing not to believe me."

"How am I meant to believe that? It's a shit excuse—"

"—It's the truth—"

"—God, you can lie, Spencer! Men lie!" 

He goes silent, as do you. You become trapped in an uncomfortably intense staring contest with him, as you watch his brain slowly tick over and decipher what you were saying, and come up with a response. Yours, however, splits open with your own self hatred. Disdain for what you had just said to him.

"Okay," he exhales, very slowly. "I'm going to tell you what I think, and you can tell me how right I am."

"You're going to profile me?"

He pauses. "I'm sure it'll come off that way. I'm not trying to," when you don't protest again, he continues. "I think you're less upset about the fact that I didn't come home for a date, and more about the fact that I didn't message you about it. I've not shown up for dates before. I've always contacted you prior to let you know. And I've promised I would always contact you if something came up that interfered with our plans. Ultimately, I said I would do something, and I didn't follow through. That is on me, and I'm sorry. What isn't on me, is how you're reacting. Which is childish, honey. You're acting like a petulant child, and I don't mean that as an insult, because I'm almost certain I know why."

Your silence is his cue to continue, but he pauses to collect his thoughts. Your lower lip is beginning to wobble, and he feels awful.

"You know how our childhoods affect us," he says, and the second what he's about to say to you clicks in your brain, your teeth clamp over your lip, and your eyes drop to the ground. "Reactions from parents to things we do, things others do, things they do, all builds up in our subconscious. Having a parent who didn't show up for you time and time again, built up in your subconscious. So yes, you're reacting to me not following through with something childishly. I will not take that back. But that reaction is not your fault. It's in response to a trigger, and the person in control of that emotional response is not adult you. It's the little girl who got let down by her father. I won't ever hold that against you."

Your sniffle breaks the deafening silence that follows his tangent. You allow him to envelop you into a hug, at which you break down into a fit of sobs akin to the ones from earlier. 

"I hate you," you stutter out in between sobs, voice muffled by his chest. 

"You can't say that while hugging me," he counters. It was true, as your hands had wrapped around his waist just seconds ago.

"I hate you," you repeat, punctuating your words with a poke to his back. 

"I love you," he replies, instead. His fingers thread through your hair as he cradles your head with his other hand. "I'm sorry I didn't contact you about being busy."

You swallow the lodged sob in your throat with a hiccup. "I'm sorry I acted like a petulant child. And I'm sorry that my dad sucks."

"I'm sorry your dad sucks too," you feel him kiss the top of your head. "Have you eaten?"

"Mm-mm," you shake your head, and he pulls back, hands slipping down to your cheeks, catching the tears. 

"Do you want to eat?"

"The restaurant we were going to is closed," you mumble.

"Maybe. But the Thai place isn't."

"I'm pretty sure it is," you counter, and his eyebrows furrow. "It's past midnight now."

His face falls, he waits a beat, before his hand drops to your own, and he's tugging you towards the door of the bedroom. "Okay. Fine. Well, the Spencer Reid Kitchen is never closed."

"I asked for pasta last night and you said the kitchen was closed."

"You asked at three in the morning," he deadpans, as you make yourself comfortable on one of the stools. 

"The Spencer Reid Kitchen is never closed," you mock his voice from earlier.

"The Spencer Reid Kitchen rules are made by Spencer Reid."

"The rules should be lenient of Spencer Reid's girlfriend."

"Do you want pasta or not?"

"Yes," you quickly say with a firm nod. "Sorry."

He spends the first hour of that Saturday making you pasta; and making up the missed date.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[wemalyri]

could you do enhypen reaction to ur self harm ?? I loved ur last post

pairing: hyungline!enhypen × gn!reader genre: angst, hurt/comfort warnings: feeling guilty, obv self-harm, brief description of negative feelings and thoughts + personal tw for each member w/c: 640+ a/n: thank you for your request!! sorry that it took me SO long(( (it's been in my drafts since august just so yk :/)e also I did only hyung line I hope you don't mind. I tried to mention and describe different reasons and situations. some members include sad endings and feeling of hopelessness. I know that if you're deep down in this even words of your loved ones might not help. if you have this problem pls remember that you're not alone( take care of yourself properly! also sunghoon one is kinds crazy, sorry for that !!! likes and reposts are welcomed !!!

Heeseung

tw: comparison to others, jealousy, toxic perfectionism

You hadn’t seen each other for a few months. The reason of it was Heeseung’s job. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t stay with you all of the time. Three months of tour felt like eternity. However, it was finally over and now you could see each other again. Heeseung promised you to come over as soon as possible but you didn’t expect him to do it so fast. Forgetting yourself, you ran to the front door and opened it with a bright smile. Heeseung immediately hugged you, holding you tight. His hand held your head, burying your face in his chest. “Gosh I missed you so much…” He inhaled your scent with a loud sound. “You smell like home.”

You playfully giggled and pecked his lips, looking at him. He pulled away to explore your appearance with a smile, but it immediately faded as his gaze fixed on your thighs. “Y/n…” He whispered with fear, not believing his own eyes. 

Upper side of your legs were covered in scars, recent ones. You absolutely forgot to cover them, too excited to meet your boyfriend. 

Yes, Heeseung was perfect for you but that only made your self-esteem worse. You always thought he was too good for you, you never were on the same level. Heeseung wasn’t just an idol, he was a goddamn ‘ace’. Perfect at everything, you never noticed his bad habits, selfish thoughts or actions. He was like an angel fallen from heaven, someone who would never match you. This is what you thought. And when he left on tour you knew he wouldn’t be able to control or see new scars if you left them. Every time you got jealous, you would blame yourself for this feeling, making your mental statement even worse. Negative feelings were too much to handle but you were too embarrassed and ashamed to share them with Heeseung, knowing pretty well that even his sweetest words wouldn’t help you. This is how you found a way to express everything you felt, punishing yourself for not being flawless.

Your eyes looked down, searching for a reason of Heeseung’s worried expression. When you saw your scars, you felt ashamed and guilty. 

“It’s nothing.” you answered, trying to sound casual.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” Heeseung’s tone of voice was serious. It felt like you had never seen him with such an expression. His eyes met yours and you could see a deep worry and hurt in them. “Why have you done that?..”

You felt guilty. You didn’t want to hurt him with your words but you didn’t want to lie to him at the same time. “I…didn’t feel well.” The reason you named sounded so stupid that a sense of shame washed over you.

Heeseung’s expression didn’t change. It seemed like your words didn’t convince him at all. “You could call me… text me… anything but not that.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you. You have a busy schedule, I don’t want to wear you out even more.” 

“Y/n… It wouldn’t hurt me as much as this.” You went silent for a second, biting your lip.

“I didn’t want to complain to you, okay?” It felt like you didn’t understand each other at all.

“Baby, that’s not complaining when you tell me about your feelings. That’s normal. I’m your boyfriend, you don’t trust me enough to share your thoughts?” You didn’t say anything as tears welled up in your eyes. Heeseung immediately stepped closer, pulling you to him. Your hands wrapped around his waist, holding onto him as the last hope. He pecked your head, whispering. “Tell me when you don’t feel well next time, okay?” You slightly nodded, thinking that maybe it will help you to go through this. At least, you decided to give it a try.

Jay

tw: ED, fatshaming (reader to themselves)

Jay is the best cook you've ever known and everyone always says that they're jealous of your luck. Your boyfriend cooks for you everyday, he never fails to make sure you're eating well even when he's tired. However, for you personally this obsession with good meals never was for the best. Your relationship with your body never was the simplest one and even though Jay and you dated for a while, you managed to hide it from him. However, at the last time something went wrong and your boyfriend started noticing what attitude you actually had to food.

One day you were having a meal at your apartment and of course Jay cooked. Again. Sitting next to your boyfriend, you were picking at food. 

“Is something wrong? You don't like it?” Jay asked, looking at you through his eyelashes with concern. 

“No, everything's fine. Just not hungry.” You managed to say, trying to sound casual. Jay's eyebrows frowned and he pulled chopsticks away. 

“Are you sure? You haven't been eating well lately.” This question suddenly made you annoyed. You didn't want someone to talk about your eating problems, so you tried to change the topic. 

“Just not hungry.” The same words left your mouth and it made Jay confused even more. Something definitely was wrong and he just couldn't understand what exactly. 

“Y/n, I know something is wrong. Don't try to hide it from me.” Jay's tone was serious and it only irritated you even more. 

“I said I was fine!” You striked the table, that made your sleeves of shirt roll up and show off your scars. Jay looked at your wrists and his sight immediately catched those parts of skin you were hiding from him. Fresh scars were relieved for his eyes, blooming on your hands. 

“Y/n, your hands…” Jay spoke quietly in disbelief. Your eyes immediately widened in realization. He saw them.

You rolled down your sleeves, hiding marks of the hatred to your body, eyes looking down.

“How long ago did you make it?” Jay asked seriously, clenching his fists. He didn't hear an answer from you. “Why?..” For a minute that you were staying silent, a lot of different thoughts ran through his head. Weren’t you happy with him? Was he a bad boyfriend? Why did you hide it?

“Jay, it's not your fault.” His flaw of thoughts was ruined by your quiet voice. “It's just… me.”

He absolutely didn't understand. His eyes looked into yours with desire for more explanation. He was begging you to talk about it. 

“I-I don't like myself. My body. And I feel even worse every time you try to feed me. I'm fat. I can't let myself eat that much.”

Of course, he was so stupid all of this time. You had always been eating purely. Once he even noticed you judgingly looking at yourself in the mirror. And he did nothing.

“Gosh, I'm so stupid…” Jay hid his face in his hands, rubbing the forehead, trying not to bunch his head under the table. 

“No, you're not. I never talked about it. You were just being a good caring boyfriend.” You saw how awful he felt and it made you feel guilty. 

He quickly stood up from his place and you could see his watered eyes, when he slipped his hands away from his face. He approached you, gently pulling your wrist to the side to examine you. “Did you hurt yourself anywhere else? Are there any more scars?” 

“No, Jay.” You settled him down with your voice but he didn’t seem to believe you. “Really. That’s all.”

Jay slightly sighed, closing his eyes. “Listen, I’m sorry.” You stood up and placed your hand on his shoulder, feeling even more guilty. 

“You shouldn’t apologize to me. You should apologize to yourself.” Jay looked mad but this expression on his face was actually hiding his concern. He looked at you and was met with your sad puppy eyes that made him want to hug you. His hands pulled you to him and he pressed his lips to your head. 

“I know…” You mumbled into his chest. “I just can't. I don't want to.”

“Baby… do you hate yourself that much?” Jay asked looking into your eyes when he lifted your chin up. Your eyes watered, giving him a clear answer. “I'm sorry…” He whispered. “I'll make sure you'll love yourself.”

You slightly shook your head in resistance but didn't say anything, ran out of energy. Jay patted your head, kissing your forehead, and while looking into his eyes full of love you thought that maybe he will keep his words. 

Jake

tw: reader can’t express their feelings, bad experience in sharing problems

Jake always was clingy towards you but it never was the problem. His hands almost always were wrapped around you, no matter if you were in public or not, you would feel his touch on your back or shoulder.

One day you had a movie-night and Jake was clinging onto you as usual. Wrapping hands around you, laying his head on your thighs, caressing your skin, he almost touched your recent scars that were covering your shoulder. Everytime Jake moved or shivered you would slightly flinch, avoiding contact between his hands and your scars under the shirt. 

Suddenly, your boyfriend pulled away from your thighs, holding onto your shoulder and you immediately gasped. “Ouch!”

Jake looked at you with worried eyes, pulling his hand away and holding it in the air. “Sorry! Did I grip too hard?”

You sighed, looking at him. “Yeah, a bit harsh. But it's okay.” Jake's gaze switched to your shoulder, covered with a shirt. He slightly pulled your sleeve up. “I'm sorry… There might be a bruise now. Let me look.” You immediately flinched from him. He didn't have to know about your scars. 

“No, it's okay.” Jake's eyes switched to your face with worry. 

“Baby, I'll just look…” He gently placed his hand on yours and you looked away, giving up. You knew he wouldn't leave you alone. Insisting would only cause more questions. 

Jake's fingers slowly pulled your sleeve up and his eyes widened. “Baby… what is that?..” Now he could see your recent scars that were blooming on your skin. 

There wasn't a certain reason why you did that. Sometimes negative feelings were too much to cope with and you, the person who had never been learnt how to take care of yourself and let your emotions out, would express everything, hurting yourself. You knew it was wrong but the thought of sharing your feelings with someone was too strange. Of course, you had tried. But it always ended the same. People would say you complain a lot and you would shut up, regretting letting out true feelings. But this time it was Jake. Jake who was your boyfriend, Jake who would never let himself hurt you. 

Your eyes watered with a feeling of despair but you didn't dare to meet his gaze. Awkward silence took the air away, not letting to breathe. However, tension in the room suddenly disappeared with Jake's gentle voice. “Hey…” His fingers tilted your chin up. Jake’s worried eyes met watered yours. “Where are they from?..” 

He looked so genuinely concerned that you couldn’t confess you were the one who did that with yourself. You bit your bottom lip, holding tears that started welling up in your eyes. There was no response. Jake started realising what your silent answer meant and his world faded away.

“It wasn’t you, right?..” he whispered, scared of his own words “You wouldn’t do that to yourself?…” Silence was making Jake go insane and he called you by your name. 

“Y/n?..” his hands held your, slightly squeezing them “Please, say something. I won;t judge you, I swear.”

You looked in the corner of the room quietly saying only a few words “That was me.”

Jake’s jaw clenched but he managed to ask “Why?..”

“I don’t know… I wasn’t… feeling well…” your voice was slightly shaky. Jake leaned close to you, making sure you could see everything in his eyes. 

“You have me. You can always share with me, you know that, right?” 

“I don’t want to complain to you. You don’t know what you’re signing up for.” you warned him, recalling your past experiences. 

“I don’t care. I want to make sure I’m doing the best I can to make you happy.” Jake saw your slight smile and leaned even closer to peck your lips before wrapping hands around you and whispering in your ear “Can you do that for me? Next time you feel bad… Tell me, scream at me, yell at me. As much as you need until you get rid of wanting to hurt yourself.” 

You caressed his hair pulling him closer and whispering “I love you, Jake.”He smiled, replying with the same soft words “I love you too.”

Sunghoon 

tw: self-harm in details, blood, low self-esteem, anxiety, jealousy, reader has REAL mental problems… (this one is crazy fr)

You knew Sunghoon pretty well as much as the fact that he only seemed to be cold. When you first met him, you thought he hated you for something or just didn’t like you, but after a while you found out you were wrong. Because of his cold appearance it’s hard to say what he’s feeling or thinking about. Still, you’ve loved him the way he is. However, your anxiety and self-esteem suffered the most in your relationship. Not because Sunghoon was too cold, but because you were afraid of doing or saying something wrong. Mental problems and fears took control of you and sometimes it led to hurting yourself. 

Sunghoon went out with friends. You were absolutely fine with that until it started being late and stars covered the dark sky. Sunghoon didn’t answer your calls, didn’t reply to your messages and you started worrying too much. Was he with other girls? Did he lie to you about his feelings? 

Minutes with these thoughts and attempts to call him again and you already found yourself in the bathroom with a blade in your hands. Fear of losing Sunghoon and hatred to yourself led you towards irrecoverable actions.

Consumed by your feelings, you didn’t notice the sound of unlocking door and footsteps of your boyfriend. He was surprised by not seeing you greeting him in the hallway and suggested you were sleeping. As Sunghoon carefully headed towards the bathroom he stood still in the doorframe, seeing you with bloody hands sitting on the cold tile. His eyes widened in fear and he ran to you, holding your shoulders and turning you to him.

“Y/n! Are you here? Do you hear me?” he enquired with fear slightly shaking you. 

Your eyes shoot opened “Hoon? What are you doing here?” 

“What do you mean? I came home as usual. What’s happened?..” he looked over you with worried eyes “We need to take you to the hospital.” 

Sunghoon started lifting you up but you stopped him lightly tapping his shoulder. 

“No… It’s okay…” You weakly smiled, tears on your cheeks becoming dry.

“It’s not okay. Your wrists are literally bleeding…” You could tell he was trying his hardest to stay calm but hysterical notes in his voice were telling the opposite. Sunghoon laid you on the bed and called the ambulance with shaky hands.When the call ended the room went silent. 

“We need to stop your… blood first” He hurried to the bathroom for some bandage to negligently stop your blood. Fortunately, cuts weren’t deep.

“I thought you wouldn’t come…” you mumbled watching Sunghoon treating your wounds.

Sunghoon looked at you with confusion “Why did you do that?.. I don’t understand…” His voice was quiet, your heart breaking into million pieces. 

“I’m sorry…” you whispered reaching for his cheek. “I thought… I thought you lied to me. You weren’t answering my texts and calls…” Your thumb slowly caressed his skin, wiping away a lonely tear that escaped from his watering eyes. Sunghoon gently took another hand of yours in his, rubbing the knuckles.

“My phone was discharged…” 

Oh. That was so stupid of you. How could you overreact so much?..

“Oh… I didn’t think about that…” The room went silent again. 

“Y/n, please… I’m begging you. Never do that again. Okay?..” Sunghoon’s pleading voice broke the silence. You hesitated before slowly nodding. “I don’t want to lose you like that.”

Your eyes watered, you started realising your mistake and what you did, what could happen. “I’m sorry, Hoon… I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The room was suddenly filled with a syren of the ambulance that flew from the opened window.

[mylovesstuffs]

SEVENTEEN when their s/o bakes them a cake that turns out disastrously

Seungcheol: Seungcheol would laugh it off and finish the cake regardless, just to show how much he appreciates your effort. Realizing his own limitations in the kitchen, he’d suggest ordering dessert or calling someone who knows how to bake (like his mom) to guide you next time.

Jeonghan: Jeonghan would tease you endlessly. “Wow, are you trying to poison me?!” But deep down, he’d find it adorable and might even eat some just to show he appreciates your effort. Later, he’d jokingly tell the other members, remind him to keep snacks handy next time you bake but definitely no hard feelings!

Joshua: Joshua would laugh it off in the most gentleman way possible and try his best to eat it, even if it tastes awful. “It’s not bad at all! You put your heart into it, and that’s what matters.” He’d probably bring up a funny and embarrassing story about his own cooking fails to make you feel better lmao.

Jun: Jun would be sweet and encouraging, eating the cake with a straight face and not complaining or letting his expressions show. He might gently suggest baking together next time, subtly guiding you without hurting your feelings.

Hoshi: Hoshi would still be his dramatic self but wouldn’t even attempt to help you in the kitchen. “This is so unique—Michelin star material!” Then, sensing your disappointment, he’d immediately order a fancy cake or dessert delivery to cheer you up saying this is their backup plan! But he'll would seriously suggest, Mingyu or Jun for a crash course in baking.

Wonwoo: He would eat a small bite and give a small smile, quietly placing the fork down. “You worked hard on this. That means a lot.” Knowing he’s not skilled enough to help, he might suggest baking as a fun activity for the two of you—but with supervision from someone better at cooking. Alternatively, he’d find a simple no-bake recipe online and try it out with you to build confidence together.

Woozi: Woozi would take one bite, pause, and then try to give you honest feedback without being mean. “Okay, maybe next time a little less sugar... or salt?” But he’d also finish his piece anyway because he really appreciates your effort.

Dokyeom: He’d be so touched that you baked for him that he wouldn’t even care about how it turned out. With a big smile, he’d take a big bite and dramatically exclaim how amazing it is to make you laugh.

Mingyu: He’d immediately jump in to ‘fix’ the cake, assuring you with a big smile, “Don’t worry, we can save this!” He’d turn the disaster into a fun bonding moment, teaching you tips along the way and hyping you up for even trying. By the end, the kitchen would be a mess, but you'd at least have something edible to share.

Minghao: Minghao would be honest but not hurtful. “This didn’t turn out how you planned, right?” He’d suggest analyzing what went wrong in a supportive way then he’d probably insist on baking with you next time to show you his own tricks and ways.

Seungkwan: Seungkwan would try to keep a straight face while tasting it but would burst out laughing BECAUSE HE CAN'T KEEP LOW. “Okay, I’m sorry, but... what happened here?!” He’d tease you affectionately but still praise your effort and insist on ordering dessert as a ‘reward.’

Vernon: Vernon would be super chill. If the cake was truly inedible, he’d order takeout or a dessert you love, turning it into a mini celebration instead of a disappointment. But please keep him away from the kitchen.

Dino: Dino would be so excited that you baked for him that he wouldn’t care how it turned out. He’d eat it happily, even if it’s terrible, and might even ask for another attempt, saying, “Let’s make it together next time!”

[solxamber]

Hi, love your writing. Have been lurking around here and I hope you're still available for the holiday event. Can I have Diasomnia, 3, fluff?👉👈

Guardian of Shenanigans || Malleus Draconia

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "I'll always be here" ; Genre: Fluff

It was a beautiful sunny day, the kind that seemed to inspire just enough mischief to keep things interesting. Malleus stood at a respectable distance, his ever-watchful gaze fixed on you as you prepared for your next "ingenious" idea.

Today’s experiment? A makeshift set of wings you’d cobbled together using fabric, sticks, and questionable amounts of enthusiasm.

“I’m telling you, Malleus,” you said, fastening the straps around your arms, “this is going to work. I’ve studied the flight patterns of birds for at least… an hour. I’m practically an expert!”

Malleus, regal as always, tilted his head, his emerald eyes filled with a mix of amusement and concern. “You know, Child of Man, I could easily grant you the ability to fly without all... this.” He gestured vaguely at the contraption, the faintest of smiles playing on his lips.

“But where’s the fun in that?” you grinned, stepping onto the edge of the cliff you’d chosen as your launch point. “Besides, I have my own personal dragon to catch me if things go south, right?”

His chest puffed up slightly, pride evident even as he tried to maintain his usual composed demeanor. “I would never let you come to harm,” he said, as though it were the most obvious fact in the world.

“Exactly!” you called back, and before he could protest further, you leapt.

For a glorious two seconds, the wind rushed past you, and you thought, Maybe this was actually a good idea! But then gravity did what gravity does best, and you felt yourself plummeting far faster than anticipated.

“Malleus!” you yelped, flailing as your "wings" betrayed you completely.

In a flash, strong arms wrapped around you, halting your descent. Malleus hovered effortlessly in the air, holding you close to his chest as though you weighed nothing at all.

“You truly are a magnet for chaos,” he said, his deep voice laced with fond exasperation. “Do you delight in testing my heart like this?”

You looked up at him sheepishly, the wind tousling his dark hair. “Maybe just a little,” you admitted, “but I knew you’d catch me.”

He sighed, though the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. “And I always will,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. “No matter what wild scheme you come up with, I’ll be there.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest feel warm, and you couldn’t help but smile. “You’re the best, you know that?”

Before he could respond, you wriggled slightly in his grip. “Alright, great catch, big guy. Now let’s go test Plan B.”

“Plan B?” he repeated, sounding vaguely alarmed but already resigned to his fate.

“Yup!” you said cheerfully. “This time we’re gonna use a trampoline. It’s foolproof!”

He sighed again, but the indulgent smile on his face was unmistakable. “Lead the way, my reckless one.”

With you practically dragging him along, Malleus followed without hesitation. After all, every moment with you—no matter how chaotic—was a moment he treasured.

Masterlist

[mindless-existence1]

Sonic and reader becomes friends!

would shadow get jealous? Like his lover just became friends with his enemy lol

the shock on Sonic’s face learning g shadow has a lover lol

also I don’t know if it went through but I asked you to marry me

Authors note: Put a ring on it @luc1dw0rld

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sonic’s room was its usual chaos: posters plastered on the walls, random gadgets scattered on every surface, and a distinct smell of chili dogs lingering in the air. You were sprawled on his bed, flipping through a comic book while he sat cross-legged on the floor, engrossed in his own.

“Okay, but tell me this,” Sonic said, pointing to a panel in his comic. “How does this dude survive getting thrown into a volcano? Like, plot armor is one thing, but come on.”

You snorted, not even looking up from your page. “He’s the main character, Sonic. Logic doesn’t apply to him.”

“Still dumb,” he muttered, flicking the page with unnecessary force. You glanced at your watch, and your eyes widened. “Oh, shit! I have to leave and get ready for my date.”

Sonic looked up from his comic, raising an eyebrow. “Still can’t believe you’re dating Shadow.” You rolled your eyes with a grin, heading for the door. “You’ve said that every time I’ve mentioned him. I don't see what's so unbelievable."

“I dunno,” Sonic said, shrugging. “He’s just so... serious. And, like, broody and grumpy and you're....not. It’s weird.” You smirked. “Opposites attract, Sonic.”

He rolled his eyes but grinned. “Whatever. Tell him I said hi. And tell him not to glare at me next time we’re in the same room.”

“Will do, see ya later,” you called over your shoulder as you grabbed your things and headed out the door.

-----

By the time you got back to your place, the evening sky was painted in hues of orange and pink. Unlocking the door, you stepped inside, expecting to find Shadow waiting as he usually did. Sure enough, there he was—sitting on your couch with his arms crossed and an unmistakable pout on his face.

“Hey,” you greeted warmly, setting your bag down. “You’re early.” Shadow’s crimson eyes flicked toward you briefly before he looked away. “Hmph.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “What’s with the attitude? Something happen?”

“It’s nothing,” he replied curtly, though the slight furrow of his brow said otherwise. You sighed, sitting down next to him. “Shadow, no offense but you'rea terrible lair. So spill.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the coffee table. Finally, he muttered, “You were with Sonic earlier.” You blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah? We were just hanging out and reading comics. Why?”

Shadow shifted uncomfortably, his arms tightening over his chest. “…You spend a lot of time with him.” Realization dawned on you, and you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Wait. Are you jealous?”

Shadow’s eyes snapped to yours, his expression a mix of indignation and embarrassment. “I am not jealous.”

“You totally are,” you teased, leaning closer. “You’re sulking because I was with Sonic. Admit it.”

“I don’t sulk,” he grumbled, but the faint blush dusting his cheeks betrayed him. You laughed softly, reaching out to rest a hand on his arm.

“Shadow, you have nothing to worry about. Sonic’s my best friend, yeah, but you’re the one I’m dating. You’re the one I want to be with because I love you.”

He glanced at you, his expression softening just slightly. You don't miss the way his shoulders loose their tension, what you don't know is how his heart rate spikes every time you say that “…It’s irrational,” he admitted quietly.

“Very,” you agreed, grinning. The tension in his posture easing as he leaned back against the couch. “I just don’t understand how someone like him can take up so much of your attention.”

“Well, he’s my friend,” you said simply, “but you’re the one I am lucky enough to be dating.” He didn’t respond immediately, but the small hum he gave you was enough to know he understood.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, a warm silence settling between you. After a moment, you added playfull, "It’s kind of cute seeing you like this.”

Shadow rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the faint smirk from appearing on his face. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are,” you teased, earning a quiet chuckle from him as the sun dipped below the horizon.

After a moment of comfortable silence you hear Shadow mumble something under his breath that makes your heart swell, "I love you to."

[j-k-writes]

The Brozen Targaryen Deleted Scene - 1

Summary - (Y/N) has enough on his plate with an unwanted betrothal and estranged father forcing himself back into his life. He does not need a new and unwanted dragon thrown into the mix. However, as (Y/N) begins his training as a dragon rider he realizes that perhaps one problem can help fix some others.

Warnings - General HOTD warnings, targcest (cousins), political marriage

The winner of the poll!

(Y/N) did not return to the keep until morning. His uncle and what looked to be the entirety of the royal guard were waiting for him as he dragged his feet through the gates. One look at (Y/N)'s mud and blood-soaked clothing was all it took for his uncle’s face to flush in fury. 

“Come with me.” Viserys bit out. “Now.” 

(Y/N) followed his uncle, and the guards who had not left his side since he climbed the stairs, silently. Not that he could blame them, he’d managed to slip their eyesight the night before, and look what happened. His uncle walked him to his chambers, dismissing most of the guards as they entered. 

“Fetch a maester.” His uncle said to one of the guards as they left, before closing the door behind them. He rounded on (Y/N), fury clear on his face. “Sit.” 

The tiny petulant child that lived in (Y/N)’s brain wanted to continue to stand but the exhaustion seeped deep into his bones and forced him into a seat. (Y/N) sighed as his aching back met the cushioned chair, and he watched as Viserys paced the length of the room. 

“What were you thinking?” Viserys said, but before (Y/N) could form an answer he spoke again. “You are a Prince of the House Targaryen, the heir to Runestone! Sneaking out at night? You could’ve been taken, or worse killed!” 

“I wouldn’t have been killed, uncle.” (Y/N) said, indignant at the thought that he would be killed by some random attacker in Fleabottom. It was the wrong thing to say as his uncle seethed further. 

“No?” Viserys spat. “Have you seen yourself, (Y/N)? You are covered in dirt and blood. What am I supposed to tell your father when he returns? That I allowed his only son to escape my watch and injure himself as he whored around Fleabottom?” 

“I think he’d be thrilled at the thought actually.” (Y/N) said, “But I wasn’t whoring, I just wanted a break. I am not used to the city, uncle. I missed the fresh air.” 

His uncle deflated at his words, sighing to himself. “If you had just told me-” 

“You would’ve sent me to the woods with at least four guards. I wanted to go alone.” 

The doors burst open as (Y/N) finished his sentence, but it was not the maester who entered the room but Rhaneyra. She was panting as if she’d run to his room. Rhaenyra looked to her father first and then to (Y/N), and when they made eye contact her jaw dropped. 

“What have you done?” (Y/N) laughed at her words. She approached him, face flickering between disgust at his mud-covered clothes, and worry at the blood on his face. 

“Rhaenyra-” Viserys started but his heir waved him off, grabbing a cloth from the water bowl on (Y/N)’s desk. His uncle sighed at Rhaenyra’s actions, turning to (Y/N). “We have not finished with this conversation, and I will be doubling your guard.” 

(Y/N) sighed, watching as his uncle left the room letting the chamber doors closer with a slam behind him. Rhaenyra approached, beginning to wipe the grime off his face. Her movements were harsh with anger, and (Y/N) winced as the cold rag made contact with the cuts on his face. 

“Tell me what happened.” Rhaenyra said, her tone leaving no room for argument. 

“I snuck out of the keep.” 

“I am aware of that.” Rhaenyra said. “The whole keep is aware of that as a matter of fact. I want to know who injured you.” 

“No one injured me.” (Y/N) said, and Rhaenyra paused her washing of his face at the honesty in his tone. 

“What do you mean?” 

“A dragon claimed me.” 

“You claimed a dragon?” 

“No,” (Y/N) said, wincing internally at how ridiculous he must sound. “I did not claim it, it claimed me.” 

“A dragon is not an it.” Rhaenyra chastised, swatting him on the shoulder. “Which dragon?” 

(Y/N) had not thought that far. Truthfully he knew little of his father’s family history, Maester Pate always cuffed him when he adamantly refused to study the books. He knew nothing of the dragon that found him last night, except that it was more stubborn than himself if such a thing was possible. 

“I do not know.” (Y/N) admitted. “It was bronze, like my house's sigil, and huge. I felt like a babe as it towered over me.” 

“Bronze?” Rhaenyra froze, eyes widening. 

“Yes.” 

Rhaenyra’s face broke out into a grin. “That is Vermithor.” 

“The dragon missing from Dragonstone?” 

“Yes, our great-grandfather Jaehaerys was his rider once.” Rhaenyra seemed ecstatic at the news, but (Y/N) could not help the fury that flared within him. It could be no coincidence that the dragon that left Dragonstone upon his father’s arrival on the island would claim him. Rhaenyra seemed to notice his worsening mood and frowned. “You do not seem happy.” 

“A dragon is the last thing I want, Rhaenyra.” (Y/N) said. “I am not like you, I do not take pride in being a Targaryen.” 

Rhaenyra drew away from him at his words, placing the dirty cloth back in the bowl of water. “I will make sure the maester finds his way to you, cousin.”

Rhaenyra was angry with him, that much (Y/N) was sure of. 

Since the morning he’d returned bloody and bruised and with a new dragon in tow, she had not spoken to him outside of their council visits, and even then her words were short and clipped. Once (Y/N) would have been grateful for his betrothed to show such contempt for him, the hope of a broken betrothal would have raised his spirits to new heights. But after weeks of enjoying Rhaenyra’s friendship, he could not bring himself to feel anything other than bored. 

While he still had little desire for a wedding, let alone one his father had arranged for him, he did wish for his betrothal to Rhaenyra to end. He did not love the girl more than anyone loved a friend, but perhaps one day he would bring himself to. She was comely enough for (Y/N) to admit his attraction toward her, and she was pleasant enough company that he would not mind being tied to her for the rest of his life. 

He had always known his marriage would be political, and was grateful that his intended was someone who understood him as much as Rhaenyra did. But he still feared that the quickness of their betrothal would forever stain their marriage, they did not love each other and probably would not for some time. 

Still, he could not have his future wife not speaking to him before their marriage was even official. 

The Dragonkeepers had sought him out a few days ago, claiming that Vermithor was restless and they had tried everything. He tried to tell them that he had no wish to properly claim the dragon and that they should just let him return to Dragonstone. Alas, it did not work that way and if (Y/N) continued to ignore their bond he would just cause Vermithor and himself more harm than necessary. 

So he made the lengthy trip up to the Dragonpit, without Rhaenyra this time. He made the trip every day until Vermithor was calm enough to be saddled and the Dragonkeepers determined his mastery of the dragon well enough to fly. He’d nearly fainted the first time Vermithor took off, but soon enough discovered that this was the fresh air he’d been dreaming of since leaving Runestone. 

He tried to keep his distance from the dragon, telling himself he was doing this only because it seemed he had no choice, but as the weeks passed on he found himself looking forward to his daily lessons with Dragonkeepers. 

Rhaenyra had begun talking to him again when she learned of his lesson, most likely from his father, and he was so relieved to have his friend back that he didn’t bother holding a grudge against the girl.

Her first wish, demand more like, upon their reacquaintance was to go flying. (Y/N) had mused that they’d done that before but Rhaenyra just rolled her eyes and insisted. This time (Y/N) would no longer be a spectator on the ground as she had her fun, he would be joining her in the skies. 

He was nervous on their ride up to the Dragonpit. Vermithor had become considerably more docile than when he first arrived at the Dragonpit, but there were still days that (Y/N) feared for the safety of those unfortunate enough to bear the dragon’s scorn. 

He watched anxiously as Vermithor crawled out from the Dragonpit, tilting his head side to side in search of his rider. (Y/N) approached him, laughing quietly to himself as the dragon pushed his snout into (Y/N)’s chest. He whispered calming words in his ancestral tongue, informing the dragon that they had a guest and he must behave.

When Vermithor stilled (Y/N) held his hand out to Rhaenyra, much like she had done when introducing him to Syrax. She approached the dragon slowly, looking up at him in awe. 

(Y/N) remembered that this was her great-grandfather’s dragon; she'd probably grew up on stories of Vermithor as much as she had his rider. 

(Y/N) pressed her hand against Vermithor’s nose, whispering calming words to the dragon as he huffed. After what felt like an eternity of anxious waiting, Vermithor calmed, blinking slowly at his rider’s betrothed. He heard Rhaenyra laugh next to him and he turned to catch her eye. She was still looking up at his dragon in awe. 

“You’ve done very well with little training.” Rhaenyra said, rubbing her hands down Vermithor’s snout. 

“Perhaps I am more Targaryen than I wish to be.” (Y/N) smiled at his betrothed, and Rhaenyra just nodded her head, smiling at him.