#pen fidget on Saturday

[fanficrocks]

The white shirt makes up for no snark - even with the outline of the vest nobody likes 😉

No snark… but hey who’s complaining..

[loveriotss]

DINNER WITH THE TODOROKIS ⸻ shoto todoroki

SYNOPSIS — shoto todoroki invites reader over to a family dinner just to get on endeavor's nerves. REQUEST — "Hi...Could I request a Shoto x reader, where Shoto brings over the reader to family dinner just to piss off Endeavor? <3" INCLUDES — gn! reader, fluff, 1.2k words WARNINGS — minor spoiler (change in hero rankings), like one swear word

main masterlist — mha masterlist ༊*·˚

“would you like to have dinner with me and my family next saturday?”

you look up from your homework, your eyes meeting his two-colored ones as you freeze for a second at his sudden request. you and shoto were curled up in your dorm. textbooks, notes and stationary sprawled all over the small round table in the middle of your room while you two were completing an assignment given by mr. aizawa.

“dinner? are you sure i won’t be intruding?” you asked him, your fingers fiddling with your pen.

“my sister invited me to a family dinner again. she has been trying her best to make our family..work. my old man will be there too." your eyes widen for a split second before you relax again. oh yeah having dinner at the same table as the number one hero wasn’t a big deal at all! you can handle that..right? you've watched countless journalists having interviews with the fiery man and have read even more comments about him and his cold personality. you didn't know what scared you more — the fact that he was the top hero of Japan or that he was the father of shoto.

“oh..are you sure he won't get mad or anything?" you ask nervously. "if he even tries to be rude to you, we can leave. i don't want you to feel uncomfortable. i'm sorry if this seems like a selfish request of mine..i just wish to see his reaction towards you. i understand if you're busy or don't wish to accompany me-" “NO” you interrupted hurriedly, face turning red as shoto looked at you, slightly startled by the sudden interruption. you cleared your throat before speaking again, “i mean, i’m not busy. i'd love to join you all for dinner.”

shoto’s eyes immediately return to his paper at your words, a hint of red on his cheeks. “okay, I’ll let fuyumi know,” he says with a soft smile on his face.

you stood nervously in front of the gate to the todoroki abode. the exterior of the residence looked like any other traditional japanese house with a stone path leading to the front door. the greenery around the house was neat and well maintained. the house seemed to be emitting a soft glow. you fidgeted with your fingers, wishing you’d had a little more time to practice your “not-freaking-out” face.

you didn't realize how tense your body was until shoto slithered his fingers between yours, interlocking them and giving them a soft squeeze. you relaxed into his touch and gave him a smile before ringing the doorbell.

a pretty young lady with white hair that had hints of red mixed with them emerged from the house and excitedly greeted the two of you, she must be shoto's sister.

"shoto! i'm so glad you're here!" she said before turning towards you and grabbing both your hands, a sparkle in her eyes as she spoke, "and you must be y/n! shoto has told me so much about you! it's so nice to meet you!" she exclaimed with a smile.

"hello! nice to meet you too! thank you so much for having me today!" you say, returning her energy.

"thank you for clearing your busy schedules to drop by! and please, call me fuyumi!" she states as she gestures for you two to come in.

you turn your head towards shoto for a moment, mouthing a "she's nice," before following behind fuyumi.

the house wasn't very modern, with tatami mats and sliding doors everywhere. the air was slightly cold but still comfortable enough. there was a delicious aroma in the air; it seemed fuyumi had gone all out. there was the slightest scent of incense sticks wafting down from a hallway but you brushed it off.

fuyumi led you two to a room that consisted of a table surrounded by traditional japanese seats. the dining table was elegantly set, with a feast of rich dishes spread out across the table. however, the air in this room seemed much more tense than it did outside. at the head of the table sat a tall sturdy man who you immediately recognized as endeavor. two seats down to his left sat a young man with white hair.

"hello!" you start, trying to sound as confident as possible, "my name is y/n l/n. thank you for having me!".

"call me natsuo, I am shoto's older brother. it's nice to meet you." says the white-haired man. "it's nice to meet you too natsuo!" you exclaimed happily before turning to endeavor.

"it's nice to meet you, mr. todoroki." you say firmly. endeavor’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he managed a curt nod. “likewise. let’s get on with dinner.”

as you took your seat, you noticed endeavor’s gaze occasionally flicking towards shoto, a mixture of curiosity and irritation in his eyes. meanwhile, shoto ignored his father's eyes and carried on eating his cold soba. you could tell that his relaxed demeanor was deliberately designed to get under endeavor’s skin.

as the dinner flowed, you made small conversations with fuyumi and natsuo while shoto piped in once in a while. the room was filled with soft laughter, the clinking of utensils, and occasional requests to pass dishes.

“so, l/n,” endeavor started gruffly, causing your attention to immediately snap to him, “how did you and shoto meet?” you took a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. “we are in the same class. shoto and i were paired for a project and we gradually became closer because of that.”

endeavor’s eyes sharpened. “and what do you think of my son’s… career aspirations?” you hesitated for a moment, then smiled. “I think shoto is very dedicated to his work. he’s passionate about what he does.”

a flicker of surprise crossed endeavor’s face, but he quickly masked it with a gruff nod. the conversation continued with a noticeable tension, but you were able to keep the mood from becoming too uncomfortable.

as the meal came to a close and dessert was served, endeavor’s demeanor was a mix of frustration and reluctant acceptance.

“well, y/n,” endeavor said as he stood up, “it’s been… interesting having you here. i hope you enjoyed the meal.” “thank you for having me,” you replied sincerely, giving him a warm smile, “i did enjoy it.”

you bid farewell to natsuo and fuyumi, thanking her for the food as you and shoto made your way out. once you two were a few blocks down, you let out a content sigh, "i'm glad that went well. i almost shit my pants while talking to your dad."

shoto let out a little laugh as he interlocked his fingers with yours. "thank you..for doing this." he says, looking down at his feet as you both stroll down the sidewalk. "of course, shoto. this type of rebel behavior is fun sometimes." you reply while giggling.

shoto smiles down at you as he squeezes your hand, giving you a soft kiss on your forehead before pulling you in closer, arms wrapping around your waist as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

"i love you." he whispers.

you gently tangle your fingers into the back of his hair as you whisper back, "i love you too."

NOTE — first time writing a full length fic lmk how i did 😓🙏 (dont be mean i will cry). i rewatched the scene when shoto brings bakugo and izu to his home for dinner for some inspoo. YK I WAS ORIGINALLY GONNA MAKE THIS ANGSTY but guys i believe in endeavor redemption journey so i just couldn't also i yap so much in these author note things oopsies also i love fuyumi

©loveriotss — all rights reserved to me. please don’t try to copy/steal my work. please do not use any of my ideas/translate my work without my permission.

[virescent-v]

Except Me?

A/N: Happy Saturday morning!! ;) Back with another smutty Emily x fem!reader fic. Enjoy :P Warnings: Honestly, if you've read my stuff before, same apply lol. Word Count: 2080

“Is everybody around here getting laid except me?” 

“Well, I’m not,” Rossi had said. 

You just stood there frozen. 

Because while the statement itself was rhetorical, you definitely weren’t thinking that way.

But now you were thinking about getting laid. 

With a certain unit chief. 

So that everyone around here was getting laid. 

Of course, Emily had no idea that you’ve been harboring a crush on her since your arrival to the BAU over three months ago. You’d heard of the infamous Emily Prentiss and the legendary things her team did. You worked your ass off to get your spot on the team and, while you didn’t want to fuck it up, you certainly wanted to fuck. 

You avoided eye contact with everyone that was standing there, not wanting the profilers to catch a glimpse of the rising heat on your cheeks. You quietly excused yourself and made a beeline for the bathrooms. 

“What’s gotten into her?” Rossi asked. 

Emily and JJ shared a look; JJ’s slightly more concerned, while Emily’s was one of curiosity. 

“I don’t know. Maybe she didn’t feel comfortable with all of the talk about getting laid?” JJ asked, twirling the ring on her finger. 

Emily’s head cocked a little to the side, considering. You hadn’t seemed like the prudish type, but she really didn’t know you too well, seeing as you’d only been here a few months and she was your boss. She made a mental note to check in on you in a little bit, seeing as she had never seen you run off from a conversation before. 

The conversation had lulled and everyone had moved their separate ways, Emily heading straight for her office. After a bit of time, she glanced up from her desk, gazed out into the bullpen. She could see you from her office, especially since you were the only one currently around, the only one at your desk. You had some files open on your desk, but you weren’t working on any of them. You were fidgeting; your knee was bouncing like you were anxious and you were playing with the pen you were supposed to be writing with. Emily had never seen you so distracted before. 

Making a quick decision, she stood up, walked to her office door. “Hey,” she said, grabbing your attention immediately, breaking the silence surrounding you. “My office, now, please.” 

You looked at her, an almost panicked look on your face. Interesting, Emily thought. 

You made your way into her office. “Shut the door behind you,” Emily said. 

You could feel your heart rate increase. Like you had just been called into the principal’s office. You made your way across the room, sitting yourself in the chair across from her desk. You were fidgeting even more with the cuffs on your blazer, trying your hardest to not make eye contact with Emily. You knew that she had no idea what was going on and if you could just control yourself a little bit more, you probably wouldn’t even be in here with your boss obviously profiling you. 

You could feel Emily’s eyes watching you, tracking your every movement. While the BAU tried very hard to not profile each other, you knew that with your behavior you were likely being observed. 

Emily let you sit and stew for a few moments, watching you. She had never seen you act so…anxious. And while she knew that part of that was from being called into her office, there was obviously something else going on. “What’s going on?” 

Your eyes shot up to hers. She looked so beautiful. Concerned, but curious. You could see yourself slipping under their spell, like you should just say what was going on. But you held yourself back. “Nothing. Just, uh…just feeling a little, um, anxious today, I guess.” Even your voice was shaky. You could hardly keep eye contact with her while talking. You knew all of Emily’s profiler alarms were going off. You just hoped she didn’t ask too many more questions. 

“You were fine this morning until our conversation in the hallway. Is your anxiousness right now about that?” She asked. 

Your eyes darted toward the right. “No,” you said unconvincingly, your voice managing to crack on the single syllable. You almost scoffed at yourself. You needed to get it together before Emily caught on even more than she already had. 

Emily’s head tilted, watching you now with narrow eyes. “Try answering that again, but a bit more convincingly,” she teased. 

You glanced up under your eyelashes at Emily, trying to figure out what was going on. She sounded like she was just teasing you, not having figured out what was really going on with you yet. 

“I could tell that our conversation made you uncomfortable. You all but ran off to the bathroom. I’m sorry if it was too much,” Emily stated, her hands folded neatly in front of her, resting on her thighs. Her well toned, strong thighs that you just wanted wrapped around your head. 

Shit, I’ve got to stop or she’s going to be able to read me like an open book, you thought. You cleared your throat, feeling another wave of heat rush to your cheeks. 

Emily smirked to herself. She had watched your eyes linger on her hands, drift around her thighs, before registering what you were doing, snapping yourself back to reality. Interesting, she thought. 

Emily decided to see if her suspicions were right - if you were harboring something for her, even if it was just lustful thoughts. 

She got up from her chair and basically stalked around her desk, stopping in front of you with her hands on her hips. You refused to meet her eyes, keeping them on her shoes in front of you, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. 

Emily didn’t say anything, just watching you squirm in front of her for a few minutes. 

When she didn’t speak, you pulled your face up, your gaze immediately connecting with Emily’s. 

“Did it make you feel some type of way when I said I wasn’t getting laid?” She asked. 

You almost choked on air, coughing slightly to recover. “Wh-what?” You couldn’t believe she would just ask straight out like that and now you were worried she was catching on. 

Emily tilted her head, her eyes scanning your face. “How did you feel earlier when I said I wasn’t getting fucked?” 

Your breath stuttered, an immediate flush taking over your face and upper chest. 

Emily had to hold back the smirk that was threatening to take over as she watched your eyes dilate almost to the point of black. She leaned forward placing both of her hands on the arms of the chair you were sitting in, her face so close to yours that it felt like you were about to go cross-eyed. This close, you could smell her earthy perfume, feel her breath against your lips. 

You had to hold yourself back from launching forward and capturing her lips with yours. 

“Do you want to be the one to change that?” Emily asked, her hand coming up to your face, her thumb tracing over your lower lip. “Do you want to be the one to finally make me cum on fingers that aren’t my own?” 

“Christ, Emily-” you started. 

“Yes or no, pretty girl.” 

You took her thumb into your mouth, your tongue tracing around it once, twice, before letting it pop out. “Fuck yes.” 

Emily finally let the smirk cross her features. “Then on your knees, angel. I want to cum all over that pretty little face of yours.” 

You’ve never gotten out of a chair so fast in your life, the sound of your knees hitting the floor almost echoing in the small office. You reached up to Emily’s waistband, eager to undo her pants to finally get a taste for what you’ve been thinking about for months. 

But Emily’s hands smacked yours away. “Uh huh, where are your manners?” 

Sitting back on your knees, you glanced up at Emily from under your lashes, giving her your best pout. “Please, ma’am, can I taste your pussy?” 

Emily wanted to roll her eyes at your little display, but she found herself getting turned on by how eager you were to please her. “Take your shirt and bra off first. I want to see more of you.” 

You didn’t hesitate. It didn’t even cross your mind that you were at work, in Emily’s office, that she was your boss. All you could think about was getting to be the one to make her cum. 

You whipped your shirt off, throwing it across the room, your bra following after. You watched as Emily licked her lips as she started to undo her own pants, pulling her panties down too. “You’re so beautiful, angel. Once I cum enough to statiate me, I’m going to fuck you until you can’t remember your own name.” 

Your eyes tracked her panties going down her legs, the ones you couldn’t stop staring at earlier. As they got kicked to the side, your gaze traveled back up her delicious legs and zeroed in on her already wet cunt. You let out a little whimper at the moisture you saw waiting for you. “Please, Em, can I?” You asked, never taking your eyes off of the prize in front of you. 

Emily’s hand found its way into your hair, holding it back off of your face. “Make me cum, pretty girl.” 

You moaned indecently at the first tangy taste of her on your tongue, your eyes rolling back into your head. Your hands gripped her thighs, keeping them apart as your mouth went to work. You took your time exploring her, getting to know what kind of movements she liked, what made her hips twitch, what made her grip in your hair get a little tighter, slowly building her up. 

By the time your tongue focused on Emily’s swollen, throbbing clit, you could hear her panting above you, her hips gyrating to a beat that pushed her closer to the edge. 

You alternated between tight, little circles around her clit and broad strokes up and down that made Emily’s breath stutter in her chest. You could tell that she was trying her best to hold back the noises she so desperately wanted to make. You hoped to hear them soon. 

“I’m so close,” Emily breathed out. “Make me cum, make me cum,” she whispered, both hands finding their way into your hair, guiding your face to her clit. “Put your fingers in me now.” 

You knew better than to test her patience; you could almost taste how close she was. You wasted no time, easily sliding two of your fingers into her dripping core. 

Moaning into her cunt at how warm and wet she was, you started a brutal pace, curling your fingers so with each thrust they hit against her sweet spot. Within a few plunges of your fingers, you could feel Emily’s thighs begin to shake, her inner walls tightening down as if trying to keep you inside. 

“Ungh, fu-fuck, I’m gon-gonna cum,” Emily whimpered. 

With one final thrust in, you focused on pushing against her g-spot in a pulsating motion, your tongue flicking fast and hard against her clit. You moaned against her, the added vibrations sending her over the edge. 

One of Emily’s hands gripped tighter in your hair while the other clamped over her own mouth to muffle her moans. You continued to fuck her through her orgasm, making sure she got the most pleasure. 

As she finally came down fully, you slowly removed your fingers and mouth, not wanting to make her too sensitive. 

You slipped your fingers into your own mouth, your tongue wrapping around them and sucking them clean, appreciating the taste of her. 

“Fuck,” Emily said, looking down at you. “You busy after work?” 

You threw your head back a little chuckling. “Whaddya know, my schedule just opened up.” 

Emily smiled, helping you up from your position on the floor. Her hand started caressing your hip, slowly making their way up your chest, circling each nipple before wrapping her hand around your throat. “Good, I have plans for you that involve you cumming all over my cock. Sound good?” 

You whimpered before hungrily nodding your head. 

Emily’s eyes darkened, a devious smirk replacing her earlier easy smile. “I’ll see you at seven at my place, pretty girl. Don’t be late.” 

“Yes, ma’am.”  

[rileyslibrary]

After a night of heavy drinking and chaos, Ghost forces you to take accountability for your actions—every single one of them.

Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader / 1.4k words

A/N: No warnings apart from mentions of alcohol and its consequences. There might be potential inaccuracies that I couldn’t verify. Plenty of scolding, but it ends fluffy.

———————————————————————

You don’t remember much from last night. Sure, there are glimpses here and there, but nothing to justify the physical pain you feel as your body struggles to stand at attention.

You shouldn’t worry much about it, though. Not when your furious lieutenant stands before you, serving you with the facts: You and your comrades meticulously organised a night out during your off-duty hours but failed to arrange a designated driver before getting drunk. No one could drive, so you carelessly left two cars out on the streets, accumulating a generous amount of parking tickets. To make matters worse, you chose to walk back to the base, parading through civilian-filled streets and ridiculing yourselves. And to top it off, you boldly entered the base in that sorry state, creating chaos.

Not remembering doesn’t excuse your actions; Ghost makes sure of that.

You stand in his office, lined up with the rest. There are five of you present—one to your left and three to your right—although you remember more from the night before. You presume the missing ones have committed greater offences, serving their “time” somewhere within the base, or perhaps they’ve been removed from the equation altogether. You wonder if that’s also your fate, and Ghost announces it in groups.

He stands before you with his arms crossed over his chest, giving you the lecture of your life and then some more. Every word that comes out of his mouth feels like a slap in the face. Even in those brief pausing moments, when his words can’t sting anymore, his eyes do all the talking.

That was the issue with the mask; there was no escaping his eyes. You couldn’t avert your attention elsewhere or focus “between his eyes” to ease the discomfort. Instead, you were forced to stare at those unforgiving, dark mirrors, confronting your shame head-on.

Once he finishes his lecture, he dismisses everyone and retreats behind his desk. You comply, lowering your head and making your way towards the door.

And then you hear it—the sound of his fingers snapping twice. You all turn to look at him.

“Except you,” he says.

You freeze in place, looking at his index finger pointing at you while everyone gets out. He skipped wearing his gloves today.

Ghost settles into his chair behind the desk and motions for you to sit in the one across from him. You comply, knowing there’s nothing else you can do except wish for the earth to open up and swallow you whole.

He fidgets with his chair, swivelling it left and right while he looks at you.

“Speak,” he orders.

“What do you want me to say?”

He stops swivelling and widens his eyes. You immediately straighten up and clear your throat.

“Sir, I understand you’re disappointed, but I assure you this was-”

“You understand?” he interrupts, leaning in closer and fixing you with narrowed eyes. “Military property smuggled out of the base, illegally parked on the road, racking up parking tickets, personnel stumbling through the streets intoxicated out of their fucking minds, cheering like bloody clowns while entering a military base?”

“I-”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Thank you for understanding.”

You clench your jaw and shift your attention to the items on his desk—a stack of papers, a single pen, a stapler—anything other than his penetrating stare. But he doesn’t let you off that easily.

“How did you let that happen?” he asks softly. His eyes follow your line of focus and settle on the pen. He grabs it and starts rotating it between his fingers.

“W-well,” you begin, clasping your hands tightly in your lap. “It was on Saturday around eleven p.m.”

“Fucks sake!” he snaps, tossing the pen onto the desk. He reclines in his chair, putting his forearms on the armrests. “Is this how you want to go about it? Running in circles? What day and what time was it then?” he asks sarcastically, gesturing upward.

You lower your gaze to your lap, your hands sliding between your thighs and the chair, feeling your shoulders slump. You open your mouth to speak, but Ghost interrupts you.

“Did I ask you what day it was?”

“No, sir.”

“Did I ask about the time?”

“No, sir.”

“You want to guess why I didn’t?” he challenges.

You turn to face him. He shakes his head, forcefully pulling open his desk drawer and grabbing two papers that look like receipts.

“The bloody parking tickets told me,” he explains, shaking the papers. He throws them back into the drawer, slamming it shut, and leans forward. “Now, what did I ask you?”

“How it happened, sir.”

“No!” he yells. He takes a few breaths and lowers his voice. “How did you let that happen? That’s what I fucking asked.”

You shift your gaze to the bookshelf beside you. “I was as drunk as the rest, sir,” you murmur. “I couldn’t have driven either.”

“Oh, that I know,” he whispers. “I was right there when you broke into the base, slinging your shoes off your feet, trying to throw them as high as possible.”

You bring one hand to your forehead to conceal your embarrassment and murmur an apology.

He snaps his ungloved fingers at you, redirecting your attention to him. “Don’t be all shy now,” he says mockingly, “you were pretty bold with your advances last night.”

You spring your head up and widen your eyes. “A-advances, s-sir?”

He doesn’t reply but mirrors your facial expression—raised eyebrows, eyes wide open. Unlike yours, his demeanour isn’t one of surprise; it’s loaded with meaning.

You lower your head and shut your eyes.

There’s this silence again. The only sound that breaks it is the clicking of the pen. He must have picked up the one he threw earlier and is now playing with it. He lets out a long exhale.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asks softly.

“Because I would get scolded for being irresponsible,” you murmur, shrugging.

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “Look at you getting a fucking medal now.”

“I’m sorry, Si-”

“Look at me,” he orders.

You lift your head and stare back at him. His expression has changed. His eyes are half-lidded and soft. He almost looks compassionate. Almost.

“You should have called me,” he says. “I would have come with Soap and Gaz to take care of the cars. We would have picked everyone up so no one would have to go through this.”

You click your tongue, roll your eyes, and sigh.

“I could have helped you,” he continues, softer than ever. “Any day, any time, any place, you know I would have.”

“I know,” you whisper, lowering your gaze to your lap.

“Look at me,” he repeats, leaning back in the chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Embarrassed,” you reply.

“No,” Ghost corrects. “Symptoms, after-effects of drinking; debrief me.”

“Well,” you say, “my head hurts, and so does my back. My throat feels scratchy.”

“Drink plenty of water,” he advises. “You threw up a lot last night.”

“I did?” you ask, placing a hand on your throat.

“I was the one who escorted you to your room and then straight to the loo so you could puke whatever you downed—ruined my gloves, too,” Ghost says, showing you the back of his right hand.

“Did I-”

“Yup.” He nods. “All over them.”

“I’ll buy you another pair, sir.”

“No need to do that,” he murmurs. “Price has included cleaning them as part of your punishment; a lovely zip-lock bag awaits you in his office.”

You nod and fiddle with a string hanging at the edge of the chair.

“Sir, about those advances...” you begin.

He huffs and begins rotating his chair left and right again. Now, he’s the one who looks down, almost shy to meet your gaze. His eyes soften, and they crinkle at the corners. You can’t see his lips, but you notice his cheekbones lifting. He doesn’t look offended or angry, like before. He looks flattered.

“I just told you that you’re about to meet with the captain, and you’re worried about that?” He asks, standing up from his chair, avoiding eye contact. “Check your priorities and remember to call me next time.”

“Yes, sir.”

He lets out another huff and shakes his head. “Dismissed,” he says, flicking his wrist at you.

———————————————————————

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [BEST THING I'VE EVER SEEN] ❞

request by lovely detailing anon pairing: spencer reid x reader. summary: a date for your brother's wedding brings you more than you could ever hope for. content warnings: i think none, but feel free to tell me! very fluffy stuff ahead though. word count: 1,1k+

the first thing you told your mother when she began yapping about how you needed a date for the wedding was that she didn't need to worry, you got your girls! surely one of them would have an eligible bachelor to accompany you. you had the girls from work, two from college and even your sister-in-law could definitely help you out without the obnoxious interference of your mother.

sadly enough, as the ceremony got closer and closer the more spectacularly did the blind dates fail you. you insisted with the bau girls you did not want anyone from the bureau, emily tried with an old friend who worked in politics. completely boring and in severe need of a model trophy wife his parents approved of.

pen tried to set you up with some guy she met doing theater, he was fascinated by your job. too fascinated, like you were some character of a play that he needed to analyze, and if that wasn't bad enough, the ones you were set up by your civilian girls weren't any better, they were in fact worse. trembling the moment you told them you were an agent.

"i'm going alone, won't tell my mom that though." you finish the conversation leaving the reports from the last case on your desk. i'ts saturday morning and fortunately, you were back in time for your brother's wedding, no chance to skip it and blame it on work for this and already running back to the elevator, asking spencer to hold the doors for you.

"i can be your date, for the wedding, i mean." his voice sounds almost nonchalant, if not for a bit higher in pitch. you feel your face warm up at the idea, surely if you had enough courage in your personal life as you showed in the field, you would've asked him months before, but apparently fate was on your side.

"really? i don't want to disturb you, i—" you shake your head softly, trying to be less avoidant, you wanted him to go, he offered to go. "i would really like that, actually."

"i'm happy to. this way you're at least guaranteed someone who isn't afraid of fbi female agents." the way his shoulders shrug up and his nose moves in a soft crunch makes your heart swell. "historically bridesmaids were to dress the same as the bride to deceive evil spirits—" he's interrupted by the elevator doors opening, but you both keep the same pace as you leave the building, wanting to keep talking to each other. "though surely you won't be dressing in white, what color are you wearing should i match my tie to it?"

"that's very thoughtful, spen." too thoughtful even, you might just swoon if you don't control yourself. "it's black tie required for bridal party dates actually, is that okay?"

"i can arrange that." even if he didn't have a black tie attire at home already, which he did, spencer would rent one if he had to, he wouldn't be happy about it, but he would do whatever necessary.

his eyes glance from your dress to your fidgeting fingers a few times before speaking up. "you're nervous." he knows that's not the first thing he should be saying after seeing you all dressed up, but he can't help it.

"oh—sorry, i'm just worried about my family meeting you." you didn't even think about your choice of words, not paying attention to the way it made spencer flinch, his smile falling instantly.

"do you want me to be less... me? i can try." eyes widened up, you shake your head quickly, hands going to his chest in what you believed was a comforting manner.

"i want them to be less... them. you're great, perfect even. they can be kind of rude, that's all." perfect even. his smile quickly comes back to his face, placing his own hands over yours with a squeeze.

"unrelated but, you look great, perfect even." his repeating of your words makes you laugh, spinning around to show him the full look before thanking him. he looks stunning, dashing even, but you feel like the way your eyes can't look away from him for long might show him that.

you were right to be worried about your family, a bunch of drunk alpha males who didn't believe the work you did in the fbi weren't the most friendly bunch to spencer, but he had his fun responding to their jabs with knowledge and sarcasm, checking your reactions every time and always getting a laugh in response.

your mother seemed to like him though, saying you two were a great match, which you tried to deny, shrug it off since you two were just friends and you somehow knew your mom would like anyone you took as long as you didn't show up alone again to a family event.

as he held you close to dance, spinning you around and making you dizzy from all the champagne, and as his hands stopped at your hips to look at you, you wished to yourself you truly were a great match, and that he felt it as much as you, and the saw it as much your family saw it.

by the end of the night he was the one holding your heels, your bag and your scarf while calling a taxi to the venue to pick you both up. happily laying your head on his shoulder the whole way back to your apartment.

spencer had to accompany you back into your place, he wasn't about to leave you by the building's entrance or the elevator, it was only reasonable to help you all the way through.

for you, it was only reasonable to ask him to spend the night, your couch was comfortable enough especially after a whole night of dancing and walking around trying to keep up with you. it was only reasonable for him to accept it.

"hey spen..." you had gone to your bedroom to find anything comfortable for him to wear, coming back only minutes later, still dressed up. "thanks for today, i had a great time." you say handing him the pijama bottoms you thought could fit him.

"i always have a great time with you." his hands brush lightly against yours and you feel a shiver down your spine, gluing your eyes to his in hopes he felt it too.

in a second he's placing his hands on your neck, kissing you with lust of at least months of yearning, taking your breath away and making you enjoy the lack of oxygen and control. you don't even have to think about reciprocating it, no hesitance, like you have been always at the ready for it and you bite his lower lip the second he tries to pull away.

"i always have a great time with you too." you whisper waiting to have an even greater time with him, the smirk on his lips showing you he hoped for the same.

[scarletwinterxx]

the apartments we shared - yoon jeonghan imagine

hellooo ~ i had some free time so here i am😊

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All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You never thought you’d see him again.

Not like this, anyway.

The call came a week ago. A gruff, emotionless voice on the other end.

Jeonghan.

His name alone was enough to send a wave of emotions crashing over you, emotions you thought you’d locked away.

“I need you to come by next weekend,” he said, after a brief, awkward silence

“For what?” you asked, trying to keep your tone neutral, though your grip on the phone tightened

“The lease. They need both of our signatures since it’s a joint agreement.”

Right. The apartment. The one that had once been your shared sanctuary, filled with late-night conversations and lazy mornings. Now it was just another loose end to tie up.

“Fine. When?”

“Saturday. Noon.”

And that was it. No pleasantries. No apologies. Just business. Typical Jeonghan.

Or, at least, the Jeonghan he became after everything fell apart.

Mingyu insisted on driving you that Saturday, despite your protests.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, peering over the steering wheel with that concerned puppy-dog look he always gave you when he didn’t believe a word you said.

“I’m good”

“You’re acting like you’re fine, but I know you’re not,” he said, glancing over at you as you fidgeted with the strap of your bag

“I am fine,” you insisted, staring out the window

Mingyu sighed. “You’ve been a wreck all week. Don’t lie to me. You’re not over him.”

You turned to him, your eyes narrowing. “That’s not true. I’m doing fine.”

“Sure,” Mingyu replied, unconvinced. “But just in case, if he so much as looks at you the wrong way, call me. I’ll come in and punch him in that smug face of his.”

You let out a half-hearted laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe. But I’m serious.” He parked the car and turned to you, his expression softening. “Look, I just don’t want you to come out of this even more hurt. Be careful, okay?”

You nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the car

The moment you walked in, it hit you. The faint scent of lavender from the air freshener he insisted on using, the familiar arrangement of furniture you once picked out together.

And there he was, standing near the kitchen counter, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.

He looked the same and yet different. His hair was longer, brushing against his cheekbones, and his posture seemed more guarded, as though he was bracing himself for something.

“You’re late,” he said, his voice flat,

“Traffic,” you lied, though you’d been sitting in Mingyu’s car for ten minutes, trying to summon the courage to walk in.

He gestured toward the table. “Let’s just get this over with.”

You swallowed hard, sitting down across from him. The table felt like a chasm between you, one filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

You picked up the pen and scanned the document, signing your name with quick, decisive strokes.

“Your turn,” you said, pushing the papers toward him

He picked up the pen but hesitated, his fingers tightening around it. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice quieter now

You blinked, taken aback. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for a brief moment, you saw something flicker in his eyes.

Regret, maybe, or longing.

But it was gone as quickly as it came.

“No reason,” he muttered, signing his name and sliding the papers back to you

As you collected your things, you couldn’t help but blurt out, “Why didn’t you just send these through the landlord? Why call me?”

He froze, his hand lingering on the edge of the table. “Figured it’d be faster this way.”

“Faster,” you repeated, your voice laced with bitterness. “Right.”

And with that, you walked out, the sound of the door closing behind you echoing in your chest.

You walked out of that apartment feeling more hollow than you expected. Mingyu was waiting for you outside, leaning against the car with a knowing look.

“Well?”

“Done,” you said simply, sliding into the passenger seat

“That’s it?” Mingyu pressed, eyebrows raised

“What else did you expect?” you snapped, feeling the weight of his gaze.

“I don’t know—maybe something real? Did he even say anything?”

“No.”

Mingyu sighed deeply but didn’t push further, starting the car in silence.

Later that evening, Jeonghan found himself sitting in Seungcheol’s apartment, nursing a can of beer. Seungcheol was sprawled out on the couch across from him, his arms crossed, a disapproving frown etched onto his face.

“You’re an idiot,” Seungcheol said bluntly

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “Nice to see you too.”

“No, I’m serious. You saw her today, didn’t you?”

Jeonghan took a sip of his beer, avoiding his best friend’s gaze.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“And nothing. We signed the papers. It’s done.”

Seungcheol let out a frustrated groan, sitting up. “You can’t keep doing this, man. You can’t keep pretending like you don’t care.”

“It’s not that simple, Seungcheol.”

“Isn’t it? You broke up with her because you thought she’d be better off without you. Fine. Stupid reason, but fine. But do you really think she’s better off now? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re both miserable.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Jeonghan muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“And now?” Seungcheol pressed, leaning forward. “What do you think now?”

Jeonghan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared down at the beer in his hand, his thoughts a jumbled mess. “I don’t know,” he admitted finally. “I don’t know if I can fix it.”

“Of course you can,” Seungcheol said, his tone softening. “But only if you stop being a coward and actually talk to her. Tell her the truth. Tell her how you feel.”

Jeonghan looked up at his friend, doubt and hope warring in his eyes. “You think she’d even listen?”

Seungcheol smirked. “She loved you once, didn’t she? That doesn’t just go away.”

A week later, Jeonghan finally worked up the courage to text you. His message was simple, almost tentative, yet it carried the weight of everything he had left unsaid.

Jeonghan: “Can we talk?”

You stared at the screen for what felt like forever, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. A dozen responses ran through your mind, but none of them felt right.

Finally, you typed back, trying to mask the emotions threatening to surface.

You: “What’s there to talk about?”

His response came almost instantly, as though he had been waiting for yours.

Jeonghan: “Everything.”

You told yourself you shouldn’t go. That it wouldn’t change anything. But against your better judgment, you agreed to meet him. He chose the café where you had your first date—an unmistakable choice that sent a pang through your chest. Did he still remember the way he held your hand across that very table, the way he laughed when you nervously spilled your coffee?

When you arrived, he was already there, sitting at a corner table with a coffee in front of him. His hair, longer now, fell into his eyes as he glanced up and met your gaze. He stood quickly, his nervous energy radiating across the room.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice careful, as if afraid he might scare you off.

“Hi,” you replied, sitting across from him and clasping your hands together tightly on the table.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was thick with tension, memories hanging unspoken in the space between.

“Thanks for coming,” he finally said, breaking the silence. He ran a hand through his hair, a habit you recognized from years of knowing him. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Why am I here, Jeonghan?” you asked, your tone more impatient than you intended. “What do you want?”

He flinched slightly but didn’t back down.

“I wanted to see you. To say what I should have said months ago.”

“And what’s that?” You raised an eyebrow

He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen in him in a long time. “I made a mistake. Breaking up with you—it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

“You don’t get to say that now. Not after everything.”

“I know,” he said quickly, his voice tinged with desperation. “And I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. But I need you to know the truth. I thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought… I don’t know, I thought I was holding you back. That you deserved more than me. And instead of talking to you about it, I ran. Like a coward.”

Your throat tightened as his words sank in. “You decided for me,” you said, your voice trembling. “You didn’t even give me a choice. You just left.”

His face fell, the guilt in his eyes almost too much to bear. “I know. And I hate myself for it every day. I thought I was protecting you, but I was just selfish. I didn’t want you to resent me for holding you back someday. But I see now that all I did was hurt you... and myself.”

You looked away, blinking back the sting of tears. “

You don’t get to just come back and say that like it fixes everything. Like it erases the months I spent trying to figure out what I did wrong.”

“I’m not trying to erase anything,” he said, leaning forward, his voice cracking. “I know I can’t. I just… I couldn’t stay silent anymore. I couldn’t keep pretending I’m okay without you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek despite your best efforts to stay composed. You quickly wiped it away, but he noticed. “Why now?” you asked. “Why are you saying this now?”

He hesitated, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “Because I can’t live like this anymore. Seungcheol’s been on my case for months, telling me I’m an idiot for letting you go. And he’s right. I am an idiot. But I’m also the idiot who loves you—still. Always.”

His confession hung in the air, raw and unguarded. You searched his face, looking for any sign that he wasn’t being sincere, but all you saw was the Jeonghan you used to know. The one who made you laugh until your sides hurt, who memorized your coffee order, who kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “You broke me, Jeonghan.”

His face crumpled, and he reached across the table, hesitating before his hand hovered over yours. “I know. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that you can. If you let me. Please, just let me try.”

The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, and you covered your face with your hands. For a long moment, you couldn’t speak, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket. When you finally looked up, his expression was one of pure hope, tempered by fear.

“What if we’re just setting ourselves up to fail again?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“We won’t,” he said firmly. “Because I’ve learned what it’s like to lose you, and I’m never making that mistake again.”

You let out a shaky breath, your heart warring with your mind. Every logical part of you screamed to walk away, to protect yourself from more heartbreak. But then you looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the man you fell in love with, the man who was baring his soul to you.

Slowly, you nodded. “Okay. I’ll give you a chance. But don’t waste it.”

His face broke into a smile, the kind you hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. “I won’t. I promise.”

Six months later, you and Jeonghan stood side by side in a new apartment, the keys dangling from his fingers.

The walls were bare, the furniture sparse, but it felt like a fresh start.

“You ready?” he asked, turning to you with a grin.

“Ready,” you said, smiling back.

As you stepped inside together, his hand found yours, and for the first time in a long time, everything felt right. This wasn’t about starting over; it was about moving forward—together.

[nightlyrequiem]

Be Still My Heart

Chapter 15- The Call

Masterlist AO3 Next Previous

New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: My throat and head hurts so bad. Somebody kill me like actually

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH19.), Dual POV

You are so childish. Valeria does something you don't like and you avoid her. You argue with her, ice her out, leave her home when it's in your best interest to stay. Valeria has scarcely seen you since dropping you back off at that shithole apartment complex you call home. You want nothing to do with her and she hasn't the faintest clue why. She tries to focus on the necessary paperwork needed to travel to El Paso but her thoughts keep straying to you.

Her pen lightly scratches over notebook paper, loosely jotting down everything she'll need to bring with her. She should tell you so you can do this for her. Only, you aren't here. Finding work elsewhere in the compound. She's not sure how, considering the only thing you do around here is cook meth and you kind of need a lab to do that, which you don't have. Valeria sighs heavily and leans back, her neck aching from having been hunched over for so long. she runs a hand over the back of it while she thinks.

Valeria is tired of you acting like you're above the rules. She gets up and walks over to the door to her office and pulls it open, looking for someone. She spots two of her men deep in discussion and calls them over.

"Hey." She says. They turn to look at her, looking wary. They walk over. She tells them to find you. "Bring her to my office." They nod and go looking for you.

Valeria retreats back into her office, shutting the door loudly. She pours herself a shot of whiskey and sits back down at her desk. Her fingers tap along the top of it impatiently. Finally, she hears a knock on the door. She shifts into a more casual position.

"Come in." She says lowly. You walk in, not looking all that excited to see her. Normally that doesn't bother her because nobody ever looks excited to see her. However now it only frustrates her. She feels... pleased whenever she sees you, she wishes it were the same for you.

Valeria narrows her eyes at you.

"We had a conversation about you avoiding me a few days ago." She says. "Are you having memory problems or are you being annoying and rude on purpose?"

Your expressions morphs into indignation. "I'm being rude and annoying?" You ask with disbelief.

Valeria rubs her forehead. It's like you two are cursed to have the same conversation over and over again. If you weren't you she'd have fired you long ago. "You're supposed to be working in here, with me." She replies flatly.

You frown.

"Why?"

Why? You're asking why? You've gotten too comfortable. Valeria must be losing her edge. She begins to wonder if the others have noticed. "Because I said so." She growls warningly, hand purposefully fidgeting with the gun laid flat on her desk. You look like you're about to argue but decide against it.

"Alright." You grit. "What do you want me to do?"

Valeria looks down. Grabbing the paperwork for El Paso. "We're going to El Paso, I need you to read these and sign them."

You straighten. "We are? When?"

"Soon." Valeria pointedly flaps the paper at you.

You grab it from her and situate yourself on the couch. Leaning down to read the first page. You're obviously interested in going to El Paso, not so much about working in the same vicinity as her. Well, she thinks, that's too bad for you. Valeria nurses her whiskey while she works. Calmed by the steady thrum of rain that has started up against the window. She sneaks a glance at you.

"Did you go to Saint Marie?" She asks suddenly. Wanting to make conversation about something you two may have had in common.

"No." You reply, not elaborating.

"Saint Vlad?"

"Mhm."

Valeria frowns. "How's your leg?" She asks. "Slip in the shower again?"

"It's fine." You say.

Valeria downs her drink and pours another. It doesn't take much intelligence to see that you don't have any interest in conversing with her. She rolls her eyes and looks away. Your relationship has shifted and not in the way she wants it to. You're really making her fight for what she wants. That's fine. Valeria had to fight to get scraps of recognition and respect from her brothers in arms, had to fight her way up the chain of command in the cartel. Fighting is what Valeria does best. 

She opens her mouth to speak but her phone rings, cutting her off. It's one of the men she sent to El Paso. She answers the call and is caught off guard by the heavy breathing.

"We need help." He pants, voice sounding rough. "Fuck. They killed them. There's so many of them."

Her blood freezes. You sit up and look at her, noticing her stiff body language. "What are you talking about?" She asks harshly. To her surprise you get up and round her desk, crouching beside her so you can listen in. You didn't ask, but you smell good so she lets it go.

"They broke in during the night." He rasps. "They- everyone is gone. They didn't even hesitate."

"Who?"

"I don't know. I don't know. They said 'stop looking.'" He says.

Valeria knows who. It's the people she's looking for, the people responsible for all this mess. "Where are you?"

"I don't know. I ran. I'm in the middle of nowhere." He says, voice lowering. "I think I'm dying. I think I'm dying please send-" 

Valeria hangs up on him. Staring ahead of her intently. She's getting closer. 

"You hung up on him." You say, surprised and sounding appalled. She looks at you coldly.

"There's nothing I can do for him." She replies. There truly isn't. It's a shame, but at the end of the day, he was expendable. You don't seem to have a response for that, however you still don't seem pleased.

"What now?" You ask, brows furrowed with concern. 

"Now we go to El Paso, we're going to finish this and everything will go back to normal." She shrugs. 

"You're very calm about this," You state. "your men just died and you don't seem to care."

"I don't." Valeria replies, taking another sip of her drink.

You shake your head like you're disappointed.

"When are we going?" You ask.

"I'll figure it out." Valeria stands. Looking at you head on. "Finish up those reports for me, I need to go talk to Diego."

You frown. "Fine." You say. Valeria is a little surprised that you didn't try arguing with her. She expected you to ask to come. To ask why you had to do her work for her. You move around her and gather the papers up in your arms. Carrying them back over to the couch and setting them on the coffee table. Thunder rumbles warningly in the distant. The true storm has yet to hit.

[bordysbae]

1. "you're my tutor? absolutely not." with OP please!!!

“it’s a date”

owen power x reader

🦋 BORDYSBAE’S 500 CELLY

— ୨୧ —

math. the subject that you hate, and apparently also hates you just as much. the C- that’s sitting in the grade book is haunting you. so, you do the best thing possible. and that’s ask your professor if he’s aware of any math tutors. he sends you the number of one of his students, but forgets to tell you just exactly who the person is.

as you walk into the library, that’s where you see the douchebag hockey player, owen power. you’ve spoken to him a few times, but never have they been very pleasant conversations. he stole your nice pen from you, he’s always begging you for a piece of paper, and he’s also almost always chuckling with his friend in class. owen and his friend sit a couple rows behind you, and they’re such a bother. sure, you can move seats easily, but you mentally claimed that one at the start of the semester. you also refuse to give him the pleasure of seeing you move seats.

“you’re my tutor? absolutely not,” you scoff and turn on your heel, but suddenly a large hand finds it’s way upon your shoulder. you turn around, and see owen towering over you. his brown eyes are looking down at you through the glass lenses resting upon his nasal bridge.

“woah, what was that all about?” owen chuckles slightly.

“no offense, owen, but you’re not really my favorite person. i don’t really want you to see how bad i am at math and laugh in my face with your idiot friends, so i’m just gonna find someone else to tutor me. thanks though,” you falsely smile. you turn around again, leaving owen utterly shocked.

“y/n hold on!” he shouts, immediately realizing he’s in the library after he does so. you turn around and look up at the boy once again.

“yes owen?” you groan.

“just give me a chance please? i hardly even know you, so let me prove to you i’m not this douchebag you think i am,” he smiles hopefully.

you realize what’s on the line here, and agree. you’re only doing this because your grade needs to rise, and definitely not because you have a soft spot for boys with glasses.

you sit across from him at the table, and tell him about the assignments you need help with. before you even realize it, an hour passes by, and owen’s actually a really good tutor. you’re actually starting to understand, so you both decide to take a break for a few minutes. you look up from your scratch paper, and that’s when you see owen already looking at you. “still think i’m such a douche?” he teasingly asks.

you roll your eyes, “no. but you better not go report back to your friends how dumb i am then go and hold it against me,” you say pointing a finger at him.

he lets out a laugh, “i won’t don’t worry. but you’re not even dumb, y/n. you’re learning so quickly i’m impressed. i don’t even think we need a second session, but i wouldn’t mind one,” he shyly says while fidgeting with his fingers.

your eyes widen, “w-what? did you just- ask me out?” you stutter, very taken back by his words.

“um yeah, is that okay? you can say no, it’s just that i’ve thought you were really cute for awhile now,” he nervously smiles.

“of course i’ll go out with you owen. and i’m sorry for assuming you were some asshole hockey player,” you chuckle.

“well how about on saturday i pick you up and we get coffee? maybe then i can return your pen that i stole, and prove i’m not the stereotypical hockey guy,” he cheesily grins.

you gasp at his words, “you still have that pen?! and you remembered?!”

“i was actually planning on giving it back to you the next time we had class, but i totally forgot. it’s been sitting on my desk ever since,” he says with a bashful blush on his cheeks.

“well then, i guess you’ll have to give me it on saturday. it’s a date.”

[winternightswren]

Of Lattes and Lab Rats: Chapter 5- Pancakes

(See here for masterlist and warnings. This story is 18+!!!!)

When Jayce knocks on your apartment door at 10:00 am the next day, there's no answer. Brows furrowing slightly, he tries again. Still nothing. He begins to worry. Is he too late? He knew you said "tomorrow morning," but you didn't actually establish a time. He avoided coming too early; he wasn't sure what time you normally awoke.

However, another thought occurred to him: were you okay?

He hesitated a moment, his hand on the silver doorknob; he didn't want to overstep a boundary by entering uninvited. Fuck it, he decided; safety was more important.

Surprisingly, it gave way immediately; it was unlocked. His heartbeat quickened; that might mean bad news. He cracked the door open slowly, just daring to stick his head in.

"Hello?" He tried softly. Your apartment was silent. He looked around, looking for any sign of trouble.

The loft was small, but cozy looking. A too-large , worn looking couch filled the living room, draped with pillows and blankets. A fireplace sat opposite, cold and empty; several brightly colored knickknacks and photo frames lined the mantelpiece. The bookshelf beside it was bursting at the seams with potted plants, and dusty old books that looked like they hadn't been touched in a long time. An ornate wooden clock tick tick ticked on the wall. Books, papers, pencils, and pens were strewn about the coffee table; and there, on the far side of the room, snoring softly in a chair under the window, was...you.

He took a moment to consider his options; he could come back later, to avoid disturbing you; but he didn't want to offend you again by ruining your plans. Despite his overwhelming fatigue, he could tell you were annoyed yesterday. He felt terrible.

Alright, then; hopefully you wouldn’t be too upset with him for waking you up.

"Hello?" He tried again, a little more loudly this time. You sat up abruptly, startled and bleary-eyed.

"Wuh- Jayce?" You asked, sleep dripping from your voice. "Oh my god. What day is it?"

Jayce chuckled at the absurdity of your question.

“Um, it’s Saturday. Can…can I come in?”

"Y-yes, I'm so sorry. Please, come in. Make yourself at home. Oh, god..." you stand up, running a had through your messy hair. "I'm so sorry. I meant to clean up last night, but I- oh my god I'm not even dressed."

"Please, don't apologize. I'm the one who barged in on you. Um, sorry about that by the way. I was just um...well, I got a little worried," he admitted. You look up at him, confused.

'Worried?" You repeat. Jayce fidgets with his hands, equally embarrassed.

"Well, I...you didn't answer when I knocked. I thought maybe...something might have happened. But, I shouldn't have let myself in uninvited like that. It won't happen again." He felt timid- timid? Jayce Talis? Where had is confidence gone? He felt unlike himself. Maybe you just had that effect on him. Or maybe he was just scared of offending you again. He cleared his throat.

“Well, anyway. Did you still want to go out with me today? I can wait outside while you get ready.”

You look him up and down, wide-eyed.

"No!" You exclaim, "No, that's okay. You can wait in here. Um...here, I'll put the kettle to boil while I get dressed, and we can have tea while we plan our day." You stare at the ground and head into the kitchen before Jayce has a chance to say anything else, and you don't see him staring at you when you turn away. He takes a moment to look around some more, trying to take his mind off how good your ass looked in the tiny pajama shorts you were wearing.

The books on your shelf look to be mostly fiction; science fiction, he gathered. The few non-fiction books appeared to detail the works of various famous artists, or contained instructions for different painting techniques. Speaking of which; you'd fallen asleep at your easel. His eyes darted over to the spot he'd found you in, and he decided a little more snooping couldn't hurt. He made his way over to the window, inching past the gargantuan sofa, and examined the overly large canvas.

It was splattered with bright, vivid colors, swirling and twisting abstractly. Across the top left corner, and guiding down to the bottom right one in an arc, appeared to be gold vines of some sort. It almost looked like real gold; upon closer inspection, some of it really was gold foil. It almost appeared to be glowing in the morning light pouring into the room, and Jayce found himself slack jawed. It was beautiful.

"Oh, shit."

Jayce turned towards the source of the quiet voice and found you, eyes the size of dinner plates. Your face was decorated with a deep blush that never seemed to leave, and you had a steaming mug in each hand. Your hair had been brushed out, and tied up; shimmery eyeshadow decorated your lids, lipgloss on your (in Jayce's eyes, perfect) lips, and you were wearing an earthy-brown dress. It was cinched at the waist, and layered atop a white-collared shirt with bell-shaped sleeves. Even with the high-heeled boots laced up to your knees, you still weren't as tall as him. Jayce realized he'd been staring at you, and looked back at the painting instead.

"It's beautiful," he said. "I thought you said you weren't an artist?"

You hand him his cup, and he takes it gratefully.

"I'm not," you say, "Not yet. I don't paint nearly as often as a real artist. I don't have the time, or the energy. And I-I've never been to art school. I don't actually know anything about making art. I just sort of...slap paint on a canvas and call it a day. Hah...anyway. Are you hungry?"

Jayce wants to talk more about your work, but he recognizes your attempt to change the subject and complies. "Very," he says with a smile. You smile back at him, and it makes his heart flutter.

"Alright then. Come on, I'll make us some pancakes." You turn towards the kitchen, and he follows suit.

The kitchen is just as cramped as the living room, but no less cozy. More potted plants line the tops of your cabinets, leaves and vines cascading downwards; almost like a curtain. Copper pots and pans hung from a rack on the ceiling, and he tried not to bonk his head against them as he entered. Jars full of fruit preserves, honey, flour, and oils crowd the counter tops. It was clean, but very cluttered. Jayce took a chair at your tiny kitchen table, shifting uncomfortably. His legs were much too long for such a cramped space.

"So...you like to cook?" He says, trying to make conversation.

You smile shyly, eyes crinkling in the corners, and shrug. "Yeah, I do." You busy yourself at the counter, gathering ingredients and tools. "It's a good creative outlet when I don't have the energy to paint. Takes less mental work but with all the satisfaction. And, I spend all day making things for other people. It's a nice way to refill my own cup, so to speak." Jayce hears a loud sizzle as you drop butter into the pan, and soon the whole apartment is filled with the sweet scent of fresh pancakes.

Jayce sips his tea, enjoying the ambience. He listens to you humming softly, and gazes out of the window over the sink. He hopes he gets a chance to get used to this.

Much sooner than he anticipated, you set a plate of blueberry pancakes in front of him- perfectly golden brown, crispy on the edges, and topped with fresh sweet cream. Jayce feels his mouth watering just looking at it. "Oh my god. This looks amazing." He makes eye contact with you, and you hold his gaze for a moment, happiness written all over your face. Your eyes are beautiful, he realizes. The late morning sun almost makes them glow.

"I hope they taste as good as they look," you joke, breaking the moment. Jayce takes a bite and almost feel himself melt.

"Holy shit, yes." It's almost rude the way he wolfs them down. He doesn't see you trying not to stare with a laugh caught in your throat.

"So," you say, and he looks up at you, cheeks puffy and stuffed with food, "How'd you come to work at the academy?"

Jayce takes another second to chew, swallow, sit up straight, and dab his mouth with a napkin; as if he wasn't just eating like a dog. "Well, I already told you I graduated there last year. Actually, I almost got expelled. Exiled, even, for tinkering with magic." Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he keeps going. "Well...with Viktor's help, I was able to convince the council to let me stay and keep working on our project- we call it Hextech. The bridge between science and the arcane. Mostly, we want to use it to help people in the Undercity- where Viktor is from. People choking on their own air, everyday. Overworked, underpaid, living on the streets with no access to food or medicine. It's terrible. And if the council isn't going to help them, somebody has to." He takes another sip of his tea, lukewarm by now.

"This sounds pretty important to you. I think it's wonderful that you want to help people. Do you really think it could work though? Using magic, I mean? I thought only mages could do such things." You're fiddling with one of your earrings, fingers tapping on the table. You seem...nervous? Jayce nods.

"I've seen it with my own eyes. I was saved by a mage, once. He gave me this-" he unbuckles the leather bracelet he always wears, ladened with a cobalt blue gemstone, and holds it up for you to see. "I know it was for a reason."

"And you think this is it?" You ask; not judgmentally, but your tone is hesitant as you look over the cuff. Jayce is used to this kind of reaction from people, by now.

"I know it seems farfetched, but this isn't science fiction. It's real. We're almost at the finish line." He slides the bracelet back on, and fiddles with his fork. His plate is practically sparkling clean- he'd scraped everything off it, and he almost wants to ask for more. The expression on your face changes to something softer, and he feels a coil wind in his stomach.

"Wow," you say, almost breathless, "beauty, brains, brawn, and you're charitable . You sure are a wonder, Jayce. How'd I land a date with a guy like you?"

He blushes at your forwardness. "I could ask the same question," he flirts back. You snicker, and Jayce is glad to find he flatters you as much as you do him.

"Alright, the day's almost half over. Should we plan our activities?" You ask, standing to gather the dishes.

"We could," Jayce replies, "or we could go for a walk and see where the day takes us?"

You turn on the tap, pretending to mull it over while you wash your plates. "Hmm...I suppose I could put up with that." You grin at him, without any of your previous shyness. Jayce feels himself growing more comfortable in your presence as well.

"Alright then. Would you life help cleaning up?" He offers, trying to avoid staring at you.

"That's okay, but thank you. I'm pretty much done anyway." You dry your hands with a bright yellow tea towel. 'Let me grab my purse, and we can head out."

'Sure," Jayce says, smiling. He finds himself doing that a lot, with you. You return it in kind, and the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest travels to his fingertips, making them twitch slightly. You turn to retrieve your purse from your bedroom, leaving Jayce in the quiet comfort of your kitchen. Today's gonna be a good one, he thinks.

[luvymelody]

teruhashi kokomi - valentine : laufey

teruhashi had a crush on this guy at school.

he was handsome, most handsome guy in their guy and everyone agreed to it. he was athletic and smart, he was kind to everyone and held a smile of his face all the time. nearly everyone had a crush on him, maybe even some guys, even teruhashi couldn't help but fall for him.

everytime they were paired up, teruhashi had prayed to the gods to favour her, to give her y/n l/n as a partner and whenever he was, she was beyond excited.

"let's work hard!"

"yes teruhashi."

he said, closing his eyes with a big smile and she blushed at the sight, trying to contain her face from turning red but as he opened his eyes, he had already suspected something that she didn't even know.

y/n wrote on the paper as he tapped the pen to his lips in thought, teruhashi looked at him, suggesting ideas and whatnot for the presentation that they were going to do later to present infront of the class. but then y/n set his pen down, fidgeting with his nails,

"would you like to go out to do this? i don't think we'll have enough time to finish this project."

teruhashi exclaimed loudly in her head, yes!

"oh sure! when are you free?"

"is this saturday okay?"

"yeah! let's meet up at the cafe downtown, what time?"

"4pm?"

"sure!"

-

y/n tapped his foot impatiently up and down on the ground as the sound of his foot matched his movements. he held his laptop in a bag with his phone in hand, waiting for teruhashi.

"l/n!"

y/n looked to his right, seeing teruhashi as her blue hair flowed into the wind and her hand holding her hair so the wind didn't blow her hair into her face, he smiled gently, waving back.

teruhashi stood infront of him and gestured to the door of the cafe,

"shall we go inside?"

"oh yeah-"

y/n pocketed his phone and reached his hand fast towards the door handle before teruhashi could, holding the door open for her as her hand retracted back to her fast,

"oh! thank you l/n!"

"my pleasure."

he smiled again with that stupid smile that gave teruhashi butterflies in her stomach, turning and entering the cafe quickly before he could hear her heart that was thumping in her chest.

-

y/n yawned loudly as he stretched his arms over his head. looking at teruhashi who was looking at the sunset,

"that was quick, we didn't know we finished the project so early."

"me either.."

y/n muttered as he stared at teruhashi, the sight of the golden rays of the sun, shining down on the two of them infront of the cafe but y/n was only looking at teruhashi, she was so pretty. no one else deserved to look at her but him, she was like a sight of espresso each morning. maybe he didn't even deserve to look at her either.

"teruhashi,"

she hummed at her name, making eye contact with y/n.

"do you, want to go on a date together, not as in friends, but like boyfriend girlfriend date.. i'm sorry if you don't- actually ignore everything i just said-"

teruhashi beamed at him, exclaiming a yes but realised what she was doing and cleared her thought, responding with a soft yes. y/n smiled as he wrapped an arm around her, rubbing the side of her arm as she blushed red, not caring if y/n sees her like this.

"let me walk you home, okay?"

"okay!"

she said with a big smile and closed eyes, it was y/n's turn to blush now, trying to calm his nerves and face from turning too red.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Deep In The Forest - Fox Mulder X Female Reader

Title: Deep In The Woods

Fox Mulder X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Scully, Skinner (Mentioned), Mr. and Mrs. Winston (OC) (Mentioned), Frank (OC) (Mentioned), and Reader's parents (Mentioned)

WC: 1,678

Warnings: Hunting mentioned, death mentioned, early-onset Alzheimer's mentioned, medicine mentioned, love at first sight?, slight flirting, slight angst, and fluff

Mulder leaned back in his chair, his feet kicked up on the desk before him as he fidgeted with a pen, when Scully entered the basement, pushing past the door with a file in her hand. Mulder's eyes lit up at the sight and he quickly dropped his feet back to the ground and sat straight. Scully gave him a small smile in greeting before handing him the file. Mulder flipped through the file, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he read it over.

'Bigfoot sighting in Washington State on Saturday 19th, 1979. The hunter, Mr. Fabian Winston, reported he saw a large furry animal that stood around seven to eight feet tall. His sighting lasted ten minutes and the creature disappeared just moments later. In other news, a young teen was found wandering the woods near where the Bigfoot had been sighted. Could these two instances be related?'

Interesting, Mulder thought, rubbing his face with a hand. He pursed his lips, flipping through some other documents and even a few photos before looking up at Scully, silently asking for her opinion. "I think it's a hoax." She answered, crossing her arms, "The hunter most likely saw a bear, and the girl probably just got lost in the woods."

Mulder pointed to the file, "Not a hoax. We're going."

Scully sighed, "I really think this one was just a bear, Mulder."

Mulder shut the file, shaking his head before standing, "Do you mind if I take the window seat?"

~~~

After they landed in Washington State and found a hotel, Mulder and Scully went straight to the residence of Mr. Fabian Winston. Pulling up in a black rental car, Mulder clutched the steering wheel as he drove over the bumpy pebble driveway, pulling up to a small house, with white shutters and a small barn beside it; a small cornfield behind the home. Parking, Mulder, and Scully got out, walked up the steps of the home, and knocked three times on the door. After waiting for a moment, an old woman opened the door, her gray hair put up in rollers, looking at Mulder and Scully skeptically.

"May I help you two?" She asked, before eyeing the two agents up and down, "You're not those insurance salesmen…" Her voice trailed off as recognition crossed her features, "…Are you?"

Mulder shook his head, "No, ma'am. I'm Agent Mulder, and this is my partner, Agent Scully. We work for the FBI." He explained and the woman furrowed her eyebrows.

"FBI? This ain't about my son, Frank, is it? I know he's had his run-ins with the law and such, but he's been clean for a couple of years." She asked and Mulder shook his head again, chuckling lightly.

"No, ma'am. We are here on the report your husband made back in the late 70s." At his words, Mrs. Winston sighed deeply, pushing the door open wider, as she frowned.

"My husband, Fabian, has been dead for a couple of years now." She spoke, looking down at the ground.

Scully's eyes widened, "Oh, ma'am, I am so sorry."

She told her quietly and Mrs. Winston nodded slowly. "Yeah, me too. He was a good man. About the report he made... About seeing Bigfoot. My husband has had early-onset Alzheimer's for a long time now. Usually, without his meds, he can see and even hear things." She leaned against the wooden door, her eyes tearing up slightly before she smiled fondly. "He kept telling me that Bigfoot spoke to him telepathically. Absurd, right?" She mused before she glanced at the agents. "I- If you excuse me..." She then shut the door.

Mulder was quick to his feet, making his way to the rental car, he hopped into the passenger seat as Scully got into the driver's seat. As Scully drove down the pebble road, she glanced at Mulder as he stuffed sunflower seeds into his mouth. "Mulder, the man had Alzheimer's." She began, "He couldn't have possibly seen a Sasquatch."

Mulder shook his head, not willing to give up yet, "No, Scully, I think the man saw Bigfoot." He replied, taking another bite out of the seeds as Scully looked over at him. "There are reports of sightings of giant creatures in these areas all the time." He tried to reason, only for Scully to sigh.

"What do you suggest we do then?" She questioned, turning to look out the front window as he chewed on another seed. 

"We should talk to that girl who went missing. From the documents, it was noted that she was found not too far away from where Mr. Winston saw Bigfoot." He mumbled, taking out the file from his bag, and flipping it open, "It says here that she has been reported to currently live in Yakima."

Scully sighed, shifting in her seat slightly, "Well, this is going to be a long ride."

~~~

Double-checking the map, Scully pulled up to a medium-sized Victorian home, the lawn trimmed neatly, flowers growing in the flowerbeds. Walking up to the front door, Scully knocked, lifting the doorknocker's handle and tapping it on the wooden door. After a moment of waiting, they heard the patter of feet before the door opened, revealing a woman. Giving the two a smile, you raised an eyebrow. Mulder felt like his heart had stopped. You were beautiful, more so than any human he had ever seen. Mulder never felt this way before, he could hardly form coherent sentences in front of you.

You looked curiously at Mulder, "May I help you two?" You asked, placing a hand on your hip as Mulder gave you a smile.

"Yes, my name is Agent Fox Mulder and this is my partner, Agent Scully." He introduced, earning an odd glance from Scully. "We work for the FBI. Are you miss L/N?"

"Yes." You tilted your head to the side with a worried and confused frown, "FBI? Did I do anything wrong?"

Mulder shook his head, "No, miss, we just have a few questions for you."

Your eyes lit up as you nodded, "Oh! Come on in then. Make yourself at home."

Entering your home, you led them to the living room, "Do you need anything? Water? Juice?" You asked as the two agents sat down on the couch.

"Oh, no, thank you," Scully spoke quickly as Mulder just gave you a kind smile and a shake of his head.

"Alright," You let out a sigh, sitting down on the couch across from them, "You said you had questions, ask away!" You giggled, clasping your hands together in your lap, "I'm an open book."

Mulder nodded, licking his lips before speaking, "Can you tell us what happened on Saturday 19th, 1979?"

Your eyes widened in surprise, "On Saturday the 19th?" You repeated.

Mulder nodded, leaning forward, listening intently, "That's right." He couldn't help but fall into the abyss of your eyes. Your entire soul pulling him in as you bit your lip briefly.

Taking a deep breath, you looked down, picking at a loose thread in the hem of your shirt. "Wow," You sighed out with a nervous smile, looking up at the two agents, "I haven't thought about that day in a long time." They waited for you to continue, so you did, "I was... About fifteen years old, I believe. And you know teens, wanting to get away from the parents that just didn't understand you... Well, I thought I could just walk in the woods nearby." You let out an embarrassed laugh, "Well, I got lost. For a couple of hours. I thought I was going to be lost forever and get cold and die, but..." You paused, shaking your head as you frowned. "Well, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Mulder gave you a small smile in return, "Try me." He encouraged you softly.

Looking at him with a grateful smile, you couldn't help but stare into his eyes, feeling the pull between the two of you. Taking a deep breath, you continued, "I heard this voice," You closed your eyes as you tried to remember, "But... They weren't speaking out loud like we are now... No, they were speaking in my head." You opened your eyes, staring down at your hands, "Before I knew it, I was in front of Bigfoot. And he helped me get out of the woods."

Sitting upright, Mulder and Scully exchanged a shocked, and yet skeptic, glance before turning their attention back to you. "You met Bigfoot, and he helped you find your way home?" Mulder asked and you sputtered another laugh, waving a hand.

"Yeah, I know it sounds crazy-"

Mulder shook his head, interrupting you, "No, no. I believe you."

You looked up at him with wide eyes, "You do?" You asked in disbelief. You couldn't believe someone else believed you. Not even the police back when you got lost believed you.

Mulder nodded, giving you a gentle grin as Scully cleared her throat, "Were you on any prescription during that time?" She asked curiously, ruining the moment.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "No. No, I wasn't. I wasn't on drugs or anything if that's what you're saying."

"I'm sorry about my partner, she's a skeptic." Mulder chuckled, standing up, "Anyway, thank you for answering our questions, miss L/N." He told you politely before motioning for Scully to follow suit. "Thank you for having us over." He thanked you again, as you quickly got up as well, leading the back to the front door. Wishing that Agent Mulder wasn't done with his questions. You liked his company.

Holding the door open for the two, you gave them a smile, "It's no problem, Agent Mulder. Happy to help with whatever you're doing."

Mulder gave you a grin, "Please, call me Fox," He spoke, before handing you a small business card, "Let me know if you remember any information, miss L/N."

You smirked slightly, finding his charm adorable as you took the card from his hand, your fingers just brushing his, "Please, Fox, call me Y/N."

[singbluesxlver]

musician!¡ Ghost × bar owner!¡ Soap

— Soap is the owner of a quite popular bar, especially among independent and alternative music fans. Soap's Bar is known for having live bands performing there (regardless of how well known or experienced they are). It's a mutual benefit, Soap retains clients and attracts new ones and bands gain popularity and payment. Besides, he's always been interested in the music world and that's his way of being part of it, at least a little.

Soap runs the bar almost on his own. He only has the help of Rodolfo and Valeria, his friends and employees, in that order. They manage somehow.

— Ghost plays lead guitar in an alternative metal band. It's an emerging band, called 141 ??? (im too tired to think of something more creative) with a fanbase and all. The other members are: Alejandro (vocals, rythm guitar), Gaz (Bass), Price (Drums).

Ghost is the only one in his group that keeps his face covered and his real identity hidden. Fans have lots of crazy theories about it but in reality, he's just into bands like Sleep Token, Ghost and Slipknot and thinks the whole mask and anonymity thing looks cool.

— Ghost's band finds out about Soap's bar hype and they decide to book a gig there.

Soap is immediately intrigued by the huge masked man that comes into his bar. At first he thought he's gonna be robbed but then he approaches him and starts talking about his band and how they find this place to be excellent for their next gig and "are you willing to book us?"

"Sorry, what did you say it was your band's name?"

"141. You can find us by the same on social media, if you need to check that out"

Soap takes out a notebook and fidgets with a pen while checking a list of names and dates.

"Uhm... Next saturday, 7PM. 'S that okay?"

"'S great, thank you."

They then exchange e-mails, phone numbers and thats it. Thats their first interaction, quite simple but surprise !! somehow they both cant stop thinking about each other !!

Ghost finds Soap pretty cute, totally his type

and Soap realizes he might have a thing for masked men

— Saturday finally arrives and Soap has never seen so many people at his bar. Courtesy of 141.

When they finally get to play, Soap's impressed by how good they sound, especially Ghost, he cant take his eyes off him. He didnt think such talent and stage presence were possible.

"Soap, te van a entrar las moscas." Thanks to Valeria's joke, Soap realizes that his mouth had been open until that moment.

— ALSO. In this au Alejandro is quite of a flirt, i mean, he's the frontman in a band, ofc he is.

He loses his head over Valeria and Rodolfo the moment he meets them and flirts with both at the same time. They find him very annoying (at first).

[cas-readsandwrites]

WIP Wednesday

After some busy-ness of summer continues to wrap up, I'm going to try pushing myself to post more - my Google drive is a hot mess, but I have a lot that I enjoyed writing, and I also have hopes that I can make some of it a bit more or a bit better. Some of it might always be a mess, one-shots or short series that don't really connect or belong anywhere. So if you also have had a niggling thought that you want to post more, an idea that you want to share, even if it's a sentence or a clause of a not-fully-formed idea, consider yourself tagged! Share your baby WIPs!

A WIP from my TLOU AU, where cordyceps never happened and Joel caught a lucky break as a young man and made it as a musician:

Joel realized he was standing still off to the side in the wings near the loading dock, in the dark of the wings lit by the time with only the safety lights. The head tech was about to lock down the building, and Joel gave the crew a wave as he walked outside. The crowds and traffic had departed, and he paused, not wanting to sit in another hotel or the small enclosure of the bus. They were leaving the next morning and most of the crew were taking advantage of a night in one place by heading out for a late-night drink, or catching some extra sleep in their bus.

The venue was on a college campus, a large theater with wings and a backstage nearly large enough for an arena show. He had seen some of the campus through the large front windows when they were upstairs earlier for media panels. Now he cut around the edge of the building to the fountain and green space he had seen earlier, his shadow next to him as he walked through a college campus with guitar in hand, a life he never had a chance to know. He settled down the walk on a bench at the far end of the fountain, which continued its coordinated dancing spurts with different lights around the edge. A few students walked nearby, but on a Saturday at midnight, he imagined most of the buildings were closed and it didn't look like any dorms were nearby. 

He held his guitar, feeling a little hokey, the old man sitting alone in the dark on a university campus. His fingers went absent-mindedly up and down the frets through favorite scales, pulls and taps, as easy and natural as someone who might fidget with a pen or write their own name. He let the cocooning sense of the buildings behind him, dark sky above, and glimpses of light through the fountain enclose him.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

125 of 2024

Created by lilprincess

NAMES Your first name begins with a C. Your first name contains 6 letters. Your mom solely picked out your name prior to your birth. Your first name is of Latin origin. You like your first name. Your surname contains 7 letters. (if the prefix counts lol)Your surname begins with a C. Many people have had trouble spelling or pronouncing your surname. When you get married, you choose to take your partner's surname.

BIRTHDAY, BIRTHPLACE & THE LIKE You were born outside of the United States. You're a Capricorn. You think most of your personality traits are akin to your zodiac sign. You have lived in more than one foreign country. You have one sister. You have half-siblings. You have step-siblings. You're a middle child. One of your parents is deceased. Two of your grandparents are deceased. You would love to have kids of your own some day. You would consider adopting a child. You don't see much of your relatives very often. You have a first cousin you haven't seen in 10+ years. You're in your late 20's. You have completed at least some college.

SPORTS & OTHER ACTIVITIES You're not an athletic person. …but you try to remain psychically active. You don't understand the concept of American football. You like soccer. You're a fan of the NY Mets. You've tried skiing and figure skating. You have a gym membership. You like ice hockey. You have watched a game/ match (of any professional sport) LIVE. You like to swim, but are not very good at it.

RELATIONSHIPS & ROMANCE You're in a committed relationship. You've been committed to your partner for 6+ months. You're a sucker for old, romantic films. You've watched porn movies on cable. You've personally experienced a pregnancy. You plan to marry the person you're involved with now. (I already did)

RANDOM MIX You prefer winter over summer. You like the cold. New Year's Eve is your favorite holiday. Christmas really bores or depresses you. You're agnostic or atheist. You're socially liberal. You have pen pals from foreign countries. You have a Tumblr account. You're a proponent of LGBT, animal and environmental rights. You're thrifty. You have lived with roommates… … and hated it! You find the terms "retard" & "fag" very offensive and overused. You're multi-ethnic. You're trying to omit sweets from your diet. You've recently quit drinking or smoking. (<-- that's a grand achievement!) You're currently unemployed. You love techno music. You're an 80's brat. You're bilingual. At least one of your family members have served in the military. You believe war is not a solution to ANYTHING! You fidget constantly when feeling nervous or bored. You're a suburbanite. You have owned a dog, cat, some fish, or a rabbit. You know someone with a neurological disorder like ADHD, epilepsy, OCD, etc (yeah, myself lol)You're a grammar Nazi. You've participated in a spelling bee in elementary school. You prefer swimming in a natural body of water over a swimming pool. You have naturally wavy hair. You love to travel…. but hate traveling by plane!! You don't own a desktop computer. You like spicy and sweet foods. You thought George W Bush was one of the dumbest U.S. presidents ever. You've been to NY…. California… Massachusetts… Florida… Washington, DC… Texas… Virginia… Maryland… New Jersey… New Hampshire… Rhode Island… Maine… Canada… Western Europe… You're a natural brunette, but have colored it before. You think you have a disproportioned physique. You think horror movies are more dumb than scary. You prefer to spend your Friday & Saturday nights quietly. You've taken a ballet or jazz class. You know how to play a musical instrument. You hate to cook and really suck at it. You don't attend parties very often. You've pondered about how overall life was like 100 years ago. You enjoy answering long surveys or creating them. :)

[lolitafan1997]

Saturday. For some days already I had been leaving the door ajar, while I wrote in my room; but only today did the trap work. With a good deal of additional fidgeting, shuffling, scraping—to disguise her embarrassment at visiting me without having been called—Lo came in and after pottering around, became interested in the nightmare curlicues I had penned on a sheet of paper.

[pollencoveredman]

green is the colour (but don’t it fade fast?)

eleven p.m., on a saturday. 

dee sits at her desk, head in her hands as she racks her brain, trying to squeeze out anything she can remember about this trigonometry bullshit. it’s not a particularly difficult topic, per sé, but she’d slept through most of the last lesson and copied her answers off the girl next to her, whose name she could never seem to remember.

she taps her pen on her desk, in time with stacey q’s two of hearts blaring from her cheap CD player. it’s not really her favourite, but she’ll play it while she can while dennis is out, before he inevitably “borrows” it from her for god knows how long.

her train of thought is interrupted by a knock at her bedroom door, and she’s a little grateful, because she’s not getting anywhere with her stupid homework and needs an excuse to take a break.

“come in, mom,” she calls, trying to look busy. 

the door creaks open, and dee does a double take when she sees her brother standing in the doorway.

“hey,” she says incredulously. “i thought you were staying at maureen’s tonight.”

dennis opens his mouth to speak, but dee cuts him off before he can get anything out.

“anyways, do you know how to do this trig shit?” she asks as he takes a seat on the edge of her bed. “i kind of didn’t pay attention in class the other week and i’m, like, totally lost, and—”

“she dumped me.”

dee blinks slowly. “what?”

“maureen; she— she broke up with me.” it’s only now that dee takes a good look at him and notices how red his nose and eyes are, the dried mascara streaked down his cheeks.

“again? what is that, the fourth time, now?” she sets her things down on her desk and pauses the music, moving over to the bed to sit with dennis as he rubs at his eyes. “god, you guys are so on-and-off, it’s so annoying. i can’t keep up; you should just move on already.”

dennis stays silent, but the way his face crumples up and the shakiness of his breath tells dee a lot more than whatever mess of words is inside his head.

“oh, hey, come on,” she says softly, as hot tears start streaming down her brother’s face. “it’s alright. you didn’t even like her that much, right? i thought you were just dating her to make mom happy.”

dennis nods, trying to catch his breath. “i was, but…” he sniffles, running a finger under his nose. “she broke up with me. if it was the other way around, then it’d be different.”

dee raises an eyebrow. she’s not sure whether she can keep up with the drama in her brother’s romantic life, and she’s not sure if she really cares, but she knows this whole mess is her mom’s fault. as if she needs another reason to despise her. they’re only sixteen, and dee already knows her mother has royally fucked up both of them for good.

“so…” she starts, trying to be careful with her words. “if you’d broken up with her instead, you wouldn’t be so upset?”

“i don’t know, dee, i just… i thought she really liked me.” dennis mutters in between sobs. “she said i was handsome, and— and she always said hi to me in the hallways, and… i don’t know. i guess i just want everyone to think i’m cool, or good-looking, or whatever. even if it’s people i don’t really like.”

dee nods. “yeah, i get it.” she doesn’t really, but he’s upset and she just wants to help.

“i just don’t know why she would be the one to break it off.” dennis sighs heavily, shifting around restlessly on the duvet.

dee frowns, picking up the tissue box from her nightstand and setting it down next to dennis. “did she tell you why?”

he shakes his head, plucking out a handful to gently dab at his nose and eyes. “wasn’t really listening. something about how she doesn’t like those quote-on-quote ‘losers’ i hang out with, i don’t know.”

there’s a beat of uncomfortable semi-silence, as dennis sniffles pathetically into his wad of tissues while dee fidgets with her necklace.

“sorry if i’m being annoying,” dennis blurts out suddenly. “i would’ve talked to mom about this, but she’s, like, out cold on the couch. wine all over the floor and everything.”

“hey, no, it’s totally fine,” dee assures him. “i doubt she would’ve been that helpful anyways.”

dennis nods slowly. “yeah. probably just, i don’t know, say it’s ‘cause i’m not good enough anymore or something. she keeps telling me i’m growing out of my looks.”

“bitch,” dee hisses. she’s mad. she’s mad that their mother would say these kind of things to her own son, that she treats them both so badly in such different ways. and of course their dad couldn’t give a shit. he’s never around; only cares about making money and banging chicks, something their mom’s fully aware of. not that she cares — that’d be hypocritical.

she wishes her parents loved each other. other times, she wishes they were both dead.

it’s something their little group is built around. mac’s mom barely pays attention to him, and dee’s pretty sure his dad’s a criminal. charlie doesn’t even know his dad, and his mom has a new guy over every other day of the week, though he seems to be oblivious to the implications of such a thing. sometimes she wishes she was as painfully ignorant as he was; so unbelievably childish and carefree.

she snaps out of her haze as she glances over at dennis, face flushed and breath uneven. dee hasn’t seen him cry like this in years.

“you want a hug?”

dennis nods, curling into her side as she wraps an arm tight around his waist. he’s always been weird about physical touch, especially these last two or so years, but he appreciates moments like these; when he knows he’s safe. 

“thank you,” he chokes out, voice wavering and barely a whisper as tears spill onto dee’s shirt.

“you’re gonna be okay, den,” she whispers, massaging little circles into his hand, the way he always does to himself when he needs to calm down. 

it’s something she’s always noticed about him, even when he hardly even realises he’s doing it. he does it a lot whenever they pass the school library, or even just at a brief mention of ms klinsky’s name. she never brings it up, though. he’s fragile about that type of thing.

“deep breaths, alright? you’re gonna make yourself sick.”

dennis nods, trying to follow her suggestion, pulling away to recollect himself. dee keeps a loose grip on his hand all the while, frowning slightly at how shaky he is.

“hey, why don’t you lay down?” she asks gently. “i’m gonna go grab you something. i’ll be really quick, promise.”

he does so wordlessly, curling up into the fetal position and picking at a loose thread on the duvet. he brushes off the tissues littering the bed into the little trash can on the side — even if he’s sad, that’s no excuse to leave a mess.

dee comes back after a minute, dennis’s stuffed elephant in her hands. she sits down next to him, presenting it to him with a grin.

“mr. tibbs!” he sits up a little, propping himself up on his elbow, a smile spreading across his face. he holds it tightly in his arms, rubbing his cheek against the soft fabric. dee can’t help but feel a little proud of herself. she knows how much dennis loves that thing, how many sick days it’s gotten him through, how many nights it’s spent cradled in his arms as he cried himself to sleep.

“feeling better now?” she whispers, as she moves her pens and papers over to the bed.

“yeah,” dennis mumbles. “you’re a good sister.”

dee smiles and squeezes his hand, distantly noting how much calmer he seems now. “i’m a great big sister.”

“hey, that’s not fair,” he whines. “you’re, like, fifteen minutes older.”

“whatever.”

“it’s cosine, by the way. not tangent.” dennis says, gesturing to dee’s notebook. he’s met with a raised eyebrow and a confused half-smirk. “on your homework, question six. you’re using the wrong ratio; that’s why your calculator’s acting all weird.”

dee snorts. “okay, nerd.”

“just trying to help my big sister,” he says through a yawn, stretching out his arms behind him. “can i sleep in here tonight?”

“yeah, go for it,” she mutters, not looking away from her homework. normally, she’d object, but he’s had a rough night, and as much as she hates to admit it, she really does like looking after him like this.

she’s the best older-by-fifteen-minutes sister ever.