#that much. so when it happens like this it just like feels weird even if its a celeb you dont really care or know a lot about

[tomboy014]

But if Batman won't adopt Danny... who will?

Starfire, and she is all over her new little brother!

Shortly after establishing the Teen Titans, Robin (Dick) introduces “Phantom” to the group, because seriously, he’s not introducing him as “Danny.”  Kinda defeats the purpose of a secret identity when you use your name in your superhero moniker.  And shows Phantom his room.

Robin’s actual goal is to get Phantom to join the Titans, but even taking short cuts through the Ghost Zone, Jump City is still a good ways away from Amity Park, and he has parents, so… It’s still a nice gesture and all, and Phantom will come visit, but no.

Still, he’s never met other teens who are heroes in their own right like he is, so he’s excited to meet Robin’s new team.  The other Titans think it’s a little weird for this not-member to have his own room in the Tower, but the place is huge, and Robin trusts him, so it’s fine.  It’s a bit awkward at first as they’re all still getting used to each other, but Phantom quickly makes friends with all of them.

But it’s his friendship with Starfire that grows first and fastest.  As soon as he finds out she’s an alien from another planet, he latches on and must know everything.  Starfire more than welcomes the attention. While she knows the Titans care for her, they’re not always… receptive to the traditions and customs of her culture. Phantom, on the other hand, is enraptured as she tells him about her culture, her holidays, the planets she’s been to, everything.

So she asks if he’d be interested in learning Tamaranean? Yes! 100%! Absolutely! Phantom picks up the language quickly and returns the favor by helping Starfire with her English. While the ability to absorb language through lips is handy, it’s by no means perfect, and Phantom helps her with things like contractions, slang, idioms, etc.

It also helps that after a couple sparring sessions with each other, Phantom and Starfire realize just how durable their partner is.  For Starfire, the people and things on Earth can be so delicate. And for Phantom, if he doesn’t watch himself and hurts a human too badly, it’s just more justification to call him an “evil ghost” that should be ripped apart molecule by molecule. Both are thrilled to finally be able to fight all out again without worrying about the consequences if they lose. And Starfire also uses it to teach Phantom some Tamaranean martial arts for aerial combat so maybe he’ll stop crashing into so many walls.

But what really changes the relationship is the Body Swap incident (not to be confused with the Freaky Friday incident). Similar to what happened with the Puppet King in Switched, Phantom and Starfire switch bodies while fighting an enemy.  Unlike what happened in Switched, Phantom and Starfire and two teen powerhouses with green energy powers triggered by emotions. And the emotional triggers they use are in the same ballpark. Starfire’s “unbridled joy of flight” to fly is very similar to how Phantom revels in the pure freedom of flight he feels. Both get angry when they use blasts. It’s very much a “if you believe in it, you can do it” kind of power set. Starfire can’t really figure out Phantom’s more ghostly abilities like invisibility or intangibility, but they very quickly adapt to each other’s shared powers on the fly during battle.  But there’s one power Starfire wants to use against the hordes of minions that Phantom won’t share the trigger for: the Ghostly Wail.  He tries to tell her it’s not a good move, that it’ll use up too much power, it should only be used as a last resort, it’ll cause too much collateral damage, etc., but Starfire wants to know, and eventually he tells her.

“T-terror… and desperation.”

Starfire rushes to give Phantom the biggest hug ever because those are such horrible feelings, and she doesn’t want to imagine what conditions must have led to him developing such a power because no one should have to feel such feelings. He is right; and that is not a power she needs to use to win this battle.  The minions are defeated, the villain is forced into a temporary retreat, and the Teen Titans return to the Tower to regroup and plan.

However, Starfire doesn’t know how to power through and hold onto Phantom’s ghostly form, and as soon as the adrenaline from the fight wears off, rings of white light spread out of her middle, and Phantom turns back into Danny in the middle of the living room.

But more importantly, everyone needs to get out of the way RIGHT NOW because while Phantom can ignore his biological needs for days, Danny can’t, and Starfire has never had to pee this badly ever in her whole life and everyone needs to MOVE, PLEASE! as she rushes into the nearest bathroom.

Phantom/Danny is now panicking, because even as an alien, he’s pretty sure she’s bound to notice that some bits of male anatomy that should be there are… missing.  He’s begging her, through the door in Tamaranean, not to tell anyone about his secret.  He’s not ready to come out yet, and he’s honestly pretty scared he’s about to lose her friendship, too.  Starfire doesn’t really care. So long as you’re a strong warrior, Tamaraneans don’t care what’s going on in someone’s pants, and she’s just relieved she didn’t have to figure out different plumbing while in his body.  Starfire opens the door.  While she knows that the people of Earth are not always as understanding, Danny need not fear her.  She will not tell anyone he's trans until he is ready to tell them himself and supports him and goes in for a hug.

Except you haven’t washed your hands; gross!  They both laugh it off, but when Starfire goes to wash her hands, the water freezes.  The cold energy in Danny’s core is building, and Starfire doesn’t know how to let it out.  They need to switch back to their own bodies soon, or Danny’s body, and Starfire, might not survive.  A little more training so Starfire can turn back into Phantom, and the Titans are ready for the final act, take down the final villain and Starfire and Phantom are back in their own bodies. 

But after that, Phantom is no longer Starfire’s friend.  Danny is her little brother, and she tells him her name is Koriand’r, or Kor’i for short.

<<Prev

[nevermindmorpheus]

So I just want to notice a few things about this article and suggest we all take a moment to do a fact check.

First, it’s weird that only the advocate leading a rally on Jess and Dahlia’s behalf is quoted.

Second, there does not in fact seem to be a light rail stop at Hennepin and 5th street. (a bus stop, yes).

Third, the details are odd—Jess and Dahlia were beaten to unconsciousness on the street and yet the only news is this story in the Independent, and then a few stories using that article to regurgitate that information.

Fourth, while there is a quote from a legitimate group in Minneapolis (Sequeerity) it’s not actually about the attacks, but about whether their services and classes have been in demand. Which I am sure is true, but it’s a red flag there is no link to the actual event that supposedly kicked off the interview.

When I search “trans women attacked minneapolis” it pulls these up along with a story from the Star Tribune (Minneapolis’s award winning local paper) about a trans woman attacked by two men in a light rail station—in March of 2023

Now, this story treats the violence with the level of care I would expect for something this vicious, you can see the multiple sources, how the details are laid out etc. (Also in this incident, and the police are called and her attackers were charged.)

Now what I kind of suspected here in the case of the 2024 story that uses some of those details but none of the context that makes sense, was that this story is either AI written or in the worst case, written to stoke fear in trans folks hoping to find safety. Things feel very dangerous in the US right now and a story like this can make even places of refuge seem unsafe. The reality of course is that no place is perfect, but Minneapolis is still a much better option for safety for trans folks than many others.

Now, things that would make me trust this story is if we could find journalism where anyone has covered either:

a) the actual attack occurring Nov 2024, citing a full police report, speaking to either Jess or Dahlia, or a bystander who saw the incident. Or even you know, the time of day exactly, and gets the actual physical location correct.

EDIT! There is coverage here that does that and clarifies the location of the light rail station and resolves the factual issues that raised my questions in the first article: https://bringmethenews.com/minnesota-news/rally-held-after-transgender-women-attacked-near-minneapolis-light-rail-station

https://bringmethenews.com/minnesota-news/rally-held-after-transgender-women-attacked-near-minneapolis-light-rail-station

b) a story covering the rally that happened in support of Jess and Dahlia. Where was it? How many people were there? Are they asking for anything?

EDIT: the above linked story does that!

At this point I can find neither and so I urge everyone to be careful and critical when encountering news that is hitting all of your emotional buttons. No one’s fears are unfounded here (this did happen in 2023!) but we owe it to each other to only spread stories like this that are based on solid evidence ♥️

EDIT: Thanks to some other folks doing searching as well, the step of fact checking which is find other coverage has succeeded. I was wrong! I do want to emphasis that it is still important to go through the process of noticing these things and making sure what you’re looking at is real, because there were enough errors in the Independent story that made the reporting not feel right. The “bring me the news” piece, as well as the instagram posts it’s linked to clarify the rally, the large public support including government officials, and reports the correct details of location and when the cops showed up (late, at the hospital. nice look there guys).

I’ve gotten a lot of hate for wondering if this was correctly reported and being wrong on the internet, and I do want to say that I looked into this because it made me upset, and then concerned, that the violence against transwomen was being used to stoke our fear (which is what I felt about the Independent article). I included the sections about what would indicate this was real because I knew there was a real possibility I had missed something, and wanted to highlight how you know when to change your mind.

so the tldr: The first shared article has a lot of factorial errors that means you should look more. Even if you don’t see evidence at first doesn’t mean you won’t get it later! The truth is that this violence did happen, but also that there was a huge outpouring of local support. Please take care of each other, and be kind!

This is where we are. Anti-trans pogroms have begun and the community is living in fear. Things are so bad that some of us are unable to live anymore.

Where is the left? Where are our allies?

#TDoR2024

[spitdrunken]

HIAHA I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE MR SCARLETELLA CAN YOU WRITE MORE. so odd and unsettling and obscene m just giggling with delight

HIIII thank you so much for the high praise <3 this has kind of a different vibe from the last one but plays with similar-esque concepts!!!! this is 'weird and obscene' LMAO

Notes: Suggestive, mild body horror, bolded = dialogue in the Other World's language.

==========================

How do you touch a man without a physical form? Or, you suppose, 'man' isn't quite the correct term. 'Apparition' would perhaps best describe him. Though he can reach out to you and make you feel the illusion of touch, you can't actually make contact with him. Your hand passes through him as if he were nothing but air.

You don't think he minds. It's always a bit hard to tell, with him. Mr. Scarletella ususally just stares you down with a dead look, communication relatively limited. But you would like to touch him! So you experiment a little, an action for which no mutually intelligible word exists. Still, he doesn't move as you poke and prod at different parts of his body, coming up short every single time.

You crouch down before poking at his ankle, just in case. When you look up, your heart stops for just a moment. Mr. Scarletella's neck is snapped back, folded in on itself in order to observe you. Vacant-seeming eyes are trained on your every movement. The sight makes you feel squeamish. "God... Not do," you tell him. "Head look hurt. Not funny." There's no other way you can think of to put it. You get up and stick your hand down, waving your hand in the other direction at the side of his head. He seems to understands what you mean, as his skull snaps back in its usual direction. You circle around him. "Sorry. Not want upset you." He says, although you know he'll never really listen or learn, not when it comes to these things. "Me like you. You like me." As if you'd ever forget. You beckon him. Rather than simply leaning down, his form flickers, distorting, before reappearing in the desired position. There's just one place you haven't touched yet. Once again, you extend your hand, the tips of your fingers brushing against the top of his umbrella. The surface is smooth to the touch and wets your skin, accompanied by a small burst of static ringing in your ears. It takes a moment for the significance to register. "Oh! I can touch your umbrella!" You say, forgetting the Other World's language in excitement over your discovery. Even though it's relatively small. You can't touch Mr. Scarletella himself, but the umbrella appears to be 'realer' than the rest of him. ...Actually, maybe the umbrella is a part of his body? He's not human, after all. He doesn't have to exist according to your logic. Your brow furrows. The puzzle pieces of language move in your mind, until they're slotted together semi-coherently. You point at his arm. "Arm you." Then, you do the same for his leg. "Leg you." You wave your arm up and down. "Body you." Finally, you lift your hand in the direction of the umbrella. "Object you? Me can touch object. Touch you?" Mr. Scarletella's smile widens. It reveals a little bit of the void that stretches on behind his lips. "I see. Correct. Object me. Object is..." After which he lowers his umbrella and says a word you haven't heard before. You try to repeat it, and he says it once again, pointing the umbrella in your direction. "Touch umbrella. I want."

It's definitely... Weird. It's genuinely like touching an umbrella. Cold and smooth and slightly wet. But Mr. Scarletella wanted you to do it, and you're kind of intrigued yourself, so you do it. Because there's clearly something happening. As you trace your fingers over the outer canopy, making sure to at least touch every panel a little bit, his visible form starts to flicker and fade. When you apply a bit more pressure, move a little faster, parts of him start to distort and change colour. His arm appears a little dislodged from his shoulder, static rising in the background.

When you pinch one of the metal tips in between your fingers and rub it, he lets out a laugh that is far more high-pitched than you would've expected it to sound like. Clearly, there's some kind of link between the umbrella and the rest of himself. Though you can't envision what it must be like, he's feeling something. Your hand pauses. In the blink of an eye, Mr. Scarletella has materialised even closer to you, nose close enough to touch yours, if it could. The inky darkness of his pupils makes up most of what you can see.

"Me like. Like like like like." He sounds breathy despite not breathing. "Touch more. Again. Me want you."

[seiwas]

hihi sel!! for your blurb game... hawks + nose + slow burn

thanks for sending this prompt bitti!! 💗

hawks + nose + slow burn

contains: non-canon au, commercial model!hawks, childhood best friends to lovers, pining, hawks gets drunk, reader dates a guy at some point, kinda cliche but i am a sucker for that

keigo's nose twitches when he lies.

it's a tell you've known well all your life.

when he was 5, he used to climb up a tree to practice how to "fly". it was really just him trying to parachute down using his bedsheets, but you watched every attempt―cheered him on whether it was a success or failure.

and when his mother's voice echoed down the park, you watched as he answered, "no," when she asked if he was trying to launch himself up to the sky.

you first noticed it then, the delayed reaction a few seconds after he had just covered up the truth: his nose twitched twice, a quick crinkling of his nose bridge. you didn't think much of it until it happened the second, third, and fourth time.

at first, you'd felt betrayed, being pulled by your ankles down into the swimming pool when he promised you he wouldn't. at 10 years old, you held these things like an oath―

"i promise! won't even go near you. see?" he swims away from the ledge you remain hesitant of approaching, hands raised up in surrender as he laughs.

―compelling; believable. trustworthy. water weighs down his otherwise bird's nest hair, taming it slack against his forehead. with his eyes forming into crescents when he smiles, he looks like the very image of a good kid down the block.

you get better at spotting it as you grow up together, and soon enough, you realize, it suits keigo to be a liar. he's charming above all, drips down sweet words like honey to anyone gullible enough to believe it. they're empty promises most of the time, but a lot of people fall for it, you notice. you included.

"i’m not interested anyway," he tells you at 18, right after graduation. one of the girls in your class was brave enough to confess to him and you’re curious how he feels about it, if anything.

being keigo's longest and arguably even best friend means that you know him better than anyone else. you were there when he was ugly, puberty catching up to him slowly. you’ve witnessed him just woken up, groggy from a full night of studying, because despite the nonchalance he often displays, he does care about his grades more than he lets on.

you know when he’s happy, when he talks about his dreams; the excitement he felt when he was scouted as a commercial model for a prestigious agency. you know his heart, beneath all his playfulness, how he keeps the people he values close to his chest and cares about them more than anything.

(you remember every single time keigo has lied on your behalf, nose twitch after nose twitch—that time you spilled grape juice all over your carpet and keigo told your mother that it was all his fault; when you forgot a book for one of your classes and keigo gave you his, taking the consequence of detention in your stead.)

you know keigo well because you love all the parts of him.

so when his nose twitches after he tells you he doesn't care much for relationships, your heart breaks just a little bit. you begin to wonder if keigo has a type, and if that girl fits right into it.

.

getting over keigo while still being his best friend is a herculean, if not impossible, task.

his career skyrockets and you go to university; your schedules are always in conflict but he still happens to be everywhere you look―ads on your instagram feed, wallpapers on your classmates' phones. there are shorts of his interviews constantly recommended on your youtube homepage and the feeling is both weird and comforting watching someone you know so well be so accessible yet difficult to meet.

you could reach out, sure, but you know he's busy enough as is. you don't think it's his priority to―

"come over soon," he texts you one thursday night.

your heart hammers against your chest, fingers numbing as you nearly drop your phone. it's embarrassing how quickly you type out, "when?"

but keigo is a fast texter, somehow always beating you to your replies first.

"this sat?" he double messages.

and you're about to reply "down" when he chats again, his words leaving an ache in your chest that you can't help but feel guilty for.

"haven't seen u in ages i think i'm starting to hallucinate hearing ur voice or smth."

.

spending more weekends together makes it harder for you to get over him, sitting on his couch as you both eat takeout; earlier today, you'd stumbled upon some stupid tiktok gossiping about all the dating scandals he's been embroiled in this past year.

you stuff chow mein down your throat, swallow it in big gulps as you glance at your best friend across you; he remains lax and unbothered as his legs cross in front of him, eyes on the the movie you're currently watching. it's a slow and painful process trying to get yourself to be just as uncaring about the entire thing, but with how often keigo lies, you find it hard to distinguish whether his "playboy" image is real or just for marketing.

curiosity gets the better of you when the question slips out, awkward and clearly fabricated.

"one of my friends is asking if i can introduce you."

you avoid eye contact in fear that he'll be able to tell you're making it up. no one from university knows you're keigo's best friend; he's kept you a secret just as much as you've kept him one.

"tell them sorry, too busy to date," he shoves a handful of popcorn straight into his mouth, chewing exaggeratedly to conceal the fact that his nose is twitching. his arm is slung over the back of the couch as you nestle yourself on the other end of it.

the topic is sensitive for the both of you; keigo always shoots down any opportunity to talk about his love life and you're always conscious of the fact that you might seem too eager to want to know what the real score is between him and the girl at the bar, at the photoshoot, at the gala, at the―

"am sure uni doesn't give you much time either, right?"

he changes the subject.

.

keigo is linked to a lot of people in the industry; it's a consequence of the job, as they say. rumors are neither confirmed nor denied and you're just as clueless as the public is despite the fact that you've known him your whole life and spend your weekends eating greasy takeout on his expensive couch.

you should move on, you tell yourself.

it doesn't mean anything that the throw blanket on his bed is the one you crocheted for him when he turned 21. the picture that sits on his entryway isn't anything more than a memento of youth with his best friend. sure, he makes time for you despite his busy schedule, but that's what all good friends do.

.

so, you start seeing someone. and when you tell keigo, things change.

it only makes sense that you hang out with him less, but he changes more than the circumstances do and you don't think that's fair at all.

he's started replying to you late, which has never happened before. and he's begun cancelling plans with you at the last minute, only for you to find leaked pictures of him at some bar with a bunch of people hanging by his arms.

keigo hangs around alcohol, but he rarely ever indulges, so having him call you shit-faced drunk right after he cancelled hanging out on the same weekend is definitely something new.

you’re in rare form driving his car to pick him up, hoisting him onto the passenger seat as he passes out to sleep. it’s only when you get to his apartment that he groggily wakes.

the elevator ride has him clinging to the side railings, his groans filling the tiny space. an empty plastic bag is ready in your hand in case he needs to hurl—which he doesn’t, thankfully—but he crashes on the couch as soon as he walks in the door.

you ready a glass of water and painkillers on the coffee table in front of him before grabbing the throw blanket from his bedroom. when you return, he's tucked into himself like a baby, knees curled up and arms crossed around torso in an embrace.

it both endears you and aches; you'd hug him if you could. if only your feelings could handle being closer to him than you should be.

instead, you settle for tucking him in, draping the crochet blanket over him as he snuggles into it.

admittedly, you're still kind of pissed; he did flake on your plans after all. but when he mumbles your name in his sleep, you find all of that anger flushed down the drain immediately.

.

the first time keigo meets the guy you've been seeing, you don't expect the hostility.

your best friend is your best friend for a reason—he's the warmest, friendliest person you know. even the media portrays him that way: charming and a little too flirty for his own good.

"quit it," you tell him when your kind-of-not-yet boyfriend goes to the restroom. you're pretty sure keigo's the reason he needed to go in the first place.

keigo sips his tea, doing a complete switch-up when he smiles at you and asks, "quit what?"

you roll your eyes, "i'm pretty sure he pissed himself because of you."

he snorts, shrugging his shoulders, "not my fault."

it is completely his fault.

from the moment your not-yet-boyfriend shook keigo's hand, your best friend has done nothing but stare him down―a piercing glare like that of hawk’s hunting its prey. you'd liken his grip to talons digging into skin if you could.

"you're such an asshole," you shake your head resignedly, chuckling. the horrible thing about this is that you kind of liked seeing keigo make him squirm.

"it's my job," he lifts his cup up to cheers.

(you find out later on that this is when your kind-of-not-yet boyfriend realized it would never work out.)

.

you're not crying when you tell keigo about the kind-of-break-up. you don't even think you feel that sad about it.

"sorry things had to end that way..." keigo says beside you, legs crossed under half of the crocheted blanket on his couch.

you give him a side-eye and notice his nose twitch. you'd know that fake sad tone anywhere.

"i was starting to warm up to him, you know..."

another nose twitch. you kick his shin under the blanket, the half on top of you rustling on top of your lap, "yeah right, nose-twitcher."

"ouch, that burned," he pretends to be hurt for the theatrics and you roll your eyes, chuckling in return.

everything about this moment is everything it should not be―it's too comfortable, too familiar, too easy. your relationship with keigo is everything you want but can't have and times like this remind you especially of that fact.

he's your best friend―

"why'd he break up with you anyway?"

―and is the reason why you can't seem to make it work with anyone else.

"i don't want to get in the way," your kind-of-ex started. you looked at him, confused.

"you have feelings for him," he further explained, "and it looks like he feels the same."

your kind-of-not-yet boyfriend said he'd caught that moment at the coffee shop as soon as he got out of the restroom―you and keigo laughing as you clinked cups.

you blink away the memory, shrugging, "don't know, just said it wasn't working out or something."

keigo hums, a beat of silence passing between the two of you before he speaks up again.

"well, it's his loss."

you turn to look at him and find sincerity; you're sure he means it, just not in the way you want him to, an awkward "thanks" mumbled under your breath.

.

things with keigo go back to the way things were, but not exactly.

his schedule miraculously clears up on the weekdays too, and he begins visiting your apartment to take you out for brunch whenever he finds the time.

he also stops going to bars and a whole year passes for him without any dating scandal, except for when he attended your graduation.

you try not to feel too happy about it, but when he's asked about the nature of your relationship, he says that you're important to him. the answer is still vague, but it's infinitely better than the way he used to evade all the previous ones.

"i'm rebranding," he tells you when you mention something about how you haven't seen any gossip tiktoks about him lately.

you push down the hope that fizzes in your chest, even when the biggest change of all is the fact that you think he's gotten clingy.

"wanna stay over again?" he asks you on a tuesday night as you're having dinner, on the table this time. you've already been here for the past two days.

you eye him suspiciously, "are you scared of your apartment or something?"

"no."

"so why?" you take a sip of water.

"no reason," he copies you, bringing his cup up higher to hide his nose; it twitches before you can catch a look.

"well, i have an early day at work tomorrow," you check your phone, "so you have to give me a better reason."

you stare at each other for a while, the silence suddenly turning a touch heavy, like suspense building up to an important scene.

he blinks. you blink.

you watch him intently, see every thought that crosses behind golden irises. he juts his lips out slightly, as if contemplating what he should say next, if he even should. it's unlike any expression you've seen on his face before, and you'd say he almost looks nervous if you only had a reference of how that emotion translates on him.

then he takes a small breath, closing his eyes half a second longer than a blink before opening them again, directing his gaze at you.

"it's better when you're around."

oh.

you don't exactly know how to respond to that; you know you shouldn't read into it too much, but then he continues―

"and i miss you when you're gone."

your breath is on hold, a measly "oh," drawn from you. time feels suspended at this dinner table, your brain finding words to say.

keigo doesn't let go of his gaze and his nose has not twitched.

you try to push it further.

"i'm," you start, already stuttering, "i'm sure you'll survive a day without your best friend."

the chuckle that escapes you gives him an option to downplay this entire thing—to turn it into a joke and make it clear once and for all that you stand no chance feeling the way you do.

except, he doesn't return your laugh. his gaze softens as he holds his stare, the corners of his lips curling into a small smile.

"and if you're more to me than just my best friend?"

you search for any sign that this is some cruel trick keigo's playing on you, that he's lying to get some kind of reaction again. but there's nothing—his nose completely still as he awaits your answer.

a/n: mostly unedited, this is so long help. at some point i started envisioning gojo ngl 😭 anyway this is my first time writing hawks! i'm not so sure if i got his character right because he's complicated but!! i enjoyed writing this (clearly with how long it is 😭😭). he knows that his nose twitch is his tell (reader told him at some point), that's why he tries to hide it sometimes! also he never truly dated anyone haha man is unfortunately very non-committal 🥹 i think getting to this point with reader is a big step! he had feelings for reader early on too but i think he's very careful with it (which is also why it took him this long to do something about it!)

hope you like this bitti! 💗

[caitified]

Hi can you please try to do Paige x reader wife. Where in they both want to have kids so they do IVF and after a year of trying reader is finally pregnant and Paige is so thrilled. Also, can it please be like first trim, second trim, and last trim until she gives birth? I hope you try this one out please. Thank you so much! And I just want to say how I love your witting!🩷

beginning

paige bueckers x reader

warnings:none, this will be the start of my new paige family series! feel free to drop ideas in my inbox. hope this is ok for you, i can into more detail if you’d like!

the first time you see the positive pregnancy test, you don’t believe it. after months of negative results, doctors’ appointments, and so many nights spent comforting each other when it felt like nothing was working, it doesn’t feel real.

but it is.

you call paige into the bathroom, your hands trembling as you hold the stick. “paige,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

she looks at you, confused for a second, before her eyes fall on the test. when she sees the two pink lines, her face lights up like you’ve never seen before.

“oh my god,” she breathes, taking the test from your hands and staring at it, her lips curving into a shaky smile.

“it’s happening,” you whisper, tears spilling down your cheeks.

paige pulls you into a tight hug, burying her face in your neck. “we’re having a baby,” she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion.

the first trimester is a mix of excitement and nerves. paige is constantly hovering, making sure you’re eating enough, resting enough, and not lifting anything heavier than a pillow.

“babe, i can carry the groceries,” you laugh one afternoon as she insists on hauling every single bag into the house.

“not a chance,” she replies, grinning. “our baby’s in there, and i’m not taking any risks.”

she spends hours reading parenting books, bookmarking baby names on her phone, and talking to your growing belly even when it’s too early for the baby to hear.

“hi, little one,” she whispers one night, her hand resting gently on your stomach as you lie in bed. “it’s me, your mama. i can’t wait to meet you.”

you can’t help but fall more in love with her every day.

by the second trimester, your bump has started to show, and paige is obsessed.

“look at you,” she says one morning, her hands gently cupping your belly as you get dressed. “you’re glowing.”

“i’m sweating,” you reply, rolling your eyes, but her grin is contagious.

she goes with you to every doctor’s appointment, holding your hand during the ultrasounds and tearing up when you hear the baby’s heartbeat for the first time.

“that’s our baby,” she whispers, her voice full of wonder.

she also becomes extremely protective. when a random person at the grocery store tries to touch your belly, paige steps in with a polite but firm, “please don’t.”

“you’re like a guard dog,” you tease later, and she shrugs, unapologetic.

“i’m just taking care of my girls,” she says, pressing a kiss to your temple.

the third trimester is harder. your back aches, your feet are swollen, and you’re more exhausted than ever. but paige is there for you through it all, rubbing your feet at night, running out to get your weird cravings, and reminding you how beautiful you are even when you don’t feel like it.

“you’re amazing,” she says one night as she helps you settle into bed, her hand resting on your belly. “i don’t know how you’re doing this.”

“because i have you,” you reply, your heart swelling as she leans down to kiss you softly.

she’s the one who sets up the nursery, carefully assembling the crib and decorating the walls with soft colors and tiny basketball decals.

“our kid’s going to be a baller,” she says proudly, and you laugh, knowing she’s probably right.

when the contractions finally start, paige is a mix of nerves and excitement. she holds your hand the entire time, whispering words of encouragement and brushing your hair out of your face.

“you’re doing so good, baby,” she murmurs, her voice steady even though you can see the tears in her eyes. “i’m so proud of you.”

and when your baby is finally born—a tiny, perfect girl—paige is the first to hold her, her hands trembling as she cradles your daughter against her chest.

“she’s perfect,” paige whispers, tears streaming down her face as she looks at you. “thank you. thank you for her.”

you smile, exhausted but so full of love, watching as paige presses a gentle kiss to your daughter’s forehead.

“we did it,” you say softly, and paige nods, her eyes never leaving your baby.

“yeah,” she whispers, her voice full of awe. “we did.”

[do-you-have-a-flag]

text of the above screenshots:

Some further clarification about things people were asking in the comments.

Tina spoke fluent English without an accent. She's either native or has been speaking it since very young.

We'd also spoken early that morning when she arrived, over the phone (woke me up where I was sleeping upstairs, but whatever, I'd rather too much communication than too little), because she wanted to clarify about the squash. She specifically acknowledged the concept of squash, and asked if it was near the kale she was seeing. I said that sounded right, and that it should be labeled. She said okay. I reminded her that if she couldn't find it, to ask my roommate for help.

The rats were on the top shelf of our freezer-top fridge so that you'd have to be leaning down to even see it, and no kale would be in its vicinity. Three people live in this house, so it's always full. Lots of options if you're gonna go rogue.

She didn't know I had snakes, unless she'd seen them in their bins in the living room, which is possible (it looks like a filling cabinet with clear plastic drawers and sometimes they come to the front). They're very quiet pets and don't even count with my landlord, so sometimes I forget to mention them when people ask about pets, as they usually are asking due to allergy concerns. So when the agency asked, I was focused on our cats. They know now, of course. But Tina had no reason to think she should be preparing a pet's meal. That was never established as something among her duties when I met with her and an agency nurse the day before to go over everything.

Also, snakes can't eat cooked meat, even if it's safely prepared. It will make them sick. So they could not still be used.

The discovery: storytime

If you want to see video evidence: investigation

UPDATE (added here since the sub automod was being weird):

Apologies for the late update. As I’m sure you can imagine, the last week was exhausting.

This is just to give what closure I can and go over how my last conversation with Tina went, the day after the incident.

When I was on my way to the cafe to escape the house last Tuesday, she actually texted me with an apology, saying “I’m so sorry, I feel so stupid and bad, this never happened before,” and offering to pay me back for the rats and the dish as I had mentioned the rats were expensive. Which is honestly more than I was expecting, but, “never happened before?” Well I sure fucking hope so! Though that begs the question, why now? Why me? I don’t know if there’s a good answer.

We agreed that she could come by the next day in the evening with the money ($15 for the rats, $30 for the dish). She declined doing Venmo or something similar. Possibly didn’t know how to use things like that, since I estimate by her comment of her grandson being my age, she had to be at minimum in her late 60s, probably older. I admit I was hesitant to have her return to the scene of the crime when it was still so unclear what her motivations had truly been, but I wouldn’t be home alone, and she had seemed sincerely contrite, if a bit defensive over the degree of my outrage.

Before the appointed time, she called me to tell me she was on her way, and then made, of all things, a request of me. She would be bringing by her time sheet, and could I sign for the two days she’d been there? I was baffled. The audacity of asking me a favor when our meeting was about her making amends, claiming that her time with me should count as doing her job, AND implying that her paying me back was to get something from me. Maybe that was why she wanted to do cash?

But at this point, I just wanted the whole thing over and done with, and it’s not like I was the one who’d be paying her, just my insurance. It was also confusing because…did that mean that she was still employed?? Surely if she’d been fired, she’d be less willing to play nice with me, would probably be blaming me more for how it affected her. At the very least, she seemed like the kind of person who would bring it up to make me feel a little bad. But maybe she wouldn’t, I don’t know. It was also strange because out of the three (now four) HHAs I’ve had at two different companies, none have ever asked me to sign a timesheet for them. Maybe some of y’all more familiar with the inner workings of these companies can shed some light here.

I was nervous when she showed up. There's something about seeing someone do something so truly unhinged that shatters the basic trust that this fellow human won’t do something else crazy, maybe something more harmful than running one out of the house. So I checked her hands through the window before I opened the door. She had two plastic bags half-full and bundled up to hide their contents under each arm. Strange choice for a weapon, so I chose faith.

There was no more apology upon greeting, she mostly just seemed in a hurry, civil but brusque, like she wanted this behind her as much as I did. While she was rummaging, I asked how she’d disposed of the dish (the follow-up to I made a video about linked in the original post if you want to see, you sickos). And as expected, the first thing she brought out was her timesheet. Sure enough, there was a place for patient signature, and as I took it and the proffered pen and set it against the doorframe to sign, I said, “We said $45, right?” just to confirm.

The look she gave me as she reached into her jacket was SO offended, and her civility evaporated. Like I was questioning her word, and how dare I. “I’m gonna pay you, I said I would.” Calm down, paranoid, was the tone.

It took all my self-control not to respond with, “You also said you’d cook the squash.” Like, yeah, lady, wonder why I would want to triple check anything we agreed to at this point. My bad.

But she did in fact hand me the wad of bills (after I’d handed back the timesheet and she’d checked it), and then she left in a bit of a huff. I just told her to take care of herself to her back.

At this point, after interacting with her again, I am of the opinion that this was simply from some form of psychosis, either a mental health thing or senility, I don’t know. Even talking to her, things were just a little off. Hard to describe, but it was like part of her attention was always somewhere else. I do not believe this was malicious or “weaponized incompetence” as many were saying in the Tik Tok comments. She had nothing to gain from this, and clearly she wants to keep her job. At this point, after the shock and horror has worn off, I just feel kind of bad for her. She clearly shouldn’t be in this profession (which, btw, she said she’s been in for thirty years??), so I more blame these companies for not being more thorough in their hiring and training process. Psych evals should be par for the course, surely.

And I know I probably shouldn’t have, it’s none of my business, but it was eating at my conscience to not express my concern. Because I don’t know what’s going on in her life. When it comes to things like reality breaks and changes in behavior, it can be really hard to see for ourselves, and maybe the people in her life aren’t saying anything, and so she’s not seeking the help she needs. So I texted her a little while after she left.

I thanked her for taking responsibility, acknowledged I was butting in, and then brought up how she said this had never happened before and how she’d seemed confused about how it happened. And that if this was a new kind of thing or there’d been other weird things happening, it might be a good idea to talk to a doctor, just in case something else is going on that needs to be addressed, as gently and non-judgmentally as I could think to say. And I ended it with “But if I’m way off base and out of line, and you’re just used to people eating like that, I apologize and wish you the best.” After a day of silence, she sent two texts, copied here:

“K thank you people make mistakes”

“God bless have a good day”

That was and I’m sure will remain the last I heard from her. I’m sorry I can’t recount some detailed confession about how it had all been a nefarious plot by some vengeful ex who’d had their aunt impersonate an aide to poison me. That would have made for a much more satisfying story.

As for my current aide situation, I’m still working with the replacement they sent to me, but have already requested a new one. She’s sane and competent, but alas, it would seem she much exaggerated her English fluency to my coordinator (who sounded resigned to such a deceit). In any other service context, I wouldn’t care, we have translator apps, but I think we’ve seen how critical clear and easy communication can be when one person is relying on another to meet their needs while sick. Others have told me how long it can take to find a good fit, so I guess I’ll just have to keep spinning the revolving door until I do.

Also, I have put in a request for the agency to reimburse me the takeout I had to get myself that day. And the oven has been cleaned and sanitized to within an inch of its life and seems okay now? I dunno, asking for a replacement or suing anyone seems like a lot of hassle (especially when I already have a medical malpractice case in the works).

Thank you to everyone for taking an interest in my harrowing experience and for your support. It legitimately turned this into something more light hearted that I can laugh at now, where it would have remained traumatic otherwise.

May your squash always be squash.

§ § ----==---- [🐀🐀🐀]

Text recounting of the full events below but oh my god please watch this person explain the wildest thing happening to them

[image text]r/trueoffmychest post by CptnSpaceCase

Today my aide cooked what should not be cooked

I have to get this out, because today feels like an actual nightmare I keep expecting to wake up from.

I'm disabled, and need help with stuff around the house. Today was the second day with a new agency and new home health aide, "Tina." I set it up so she would come by in the morning while I'm sleeping (insomnia is killer), and I texted her last night what I would need done today.

One of those things was to roast some precut squash I'd gotten so I could have it with my salads and pasta. I was very clear in my instructions: what it looked like, where it was in the fridge, how to use the oven, how to cook it. I also have a roommate who was up and told her she could ask them for help if she couldn't find anything. Or come get me if truly necessary.

Now, I have three pet ball pythons. They eat rats that I thaw from frozen in the fridge in a reusable plastic bag. Yes, that's where I'm going with this.

Tina couldn't find the squash, and so, obviously, that meant she should roast the first other thing she could see that was technically also encased in plastic, in a completely different area of the fridge. The FUCKING RATS. In butter and salt, in my nice baking dish.

And like, that's insane all on its own, but if you're going to cook any animal, you should at least clean and skin it first, right??? Like, do the crazy, disgusting thing properly so I can respect the effort, instead of sticking them in as is. Fur and guts and all.

And the smell. Good God baby Jesus the SMELL. It woke me up and had me gagging the moment I opened my bedroom door. Definitely not squash. Or food-smelling for that matter. At first I thought the squash had spontaneously rotted overnight and she'd tried to cook it anyway. That would have been slightly less insane and much preferable.

I had to pull it out of her what she was cooking instead when she said she couldn't find it (it was in plain sight), had to open the oven and see my snakes' dinners in place of my own and still couldn't process what the fuck was happening, what I was looking at and smelling. I don't like yelling at people and generally avoid it. Today was a day for exceptions. And at the end of my half-crazed, dissociative rant, I told her to get the whole dish and its contents and herself out of the fucking house. And to not come back.

Suffice to say, I've contacted the agency to report it and am requesting a new aide. Now I'm sitting at a cafe trying to calm down and eat something despite the scent memory that's taken up permanent residence and turning my stomach. The whole house reeks like musty, sewage-dipped pork that had been left out for a whole day before being cooked in rancid oil, and I'm not sure Febreeze is gonna cut it. I don't want to go home. 🫠😭

[keferon]

Ok i said i would do itater, but this was done for my sister who got really hurt and wanted comfort out of my drabble, shout out to you @saltynsassy31 XD

This will probably be very OOC bc again, i am NOT too acquainted with these characters

So apologies in advance, but i think this will still be very entertaining for you :]

So yeah, here's part 2!

---

Jazz was tired, they haven't given him much time to rest since he came back. And even if they did, it's not like he could rest anyways, thinking about....about Prowl.

No way he could have just left him, right? After everything....it just didn't feel right, and the way they spoke to him about it too. Call him crazy but something in his gut told him they were hiding something from him. But it just never seemed enough to push him to look into it (oh how he would regret that for the rest of his life)

Today was supposed to be a normal routine check to the new mechas, with new recruits coming in for him to teach.

Jazz was given a new mecha suit, despite his protests to it (which surprised even him honestly, but it just didn't feel right). He hadn't gotten the chance to see it yet, today was the day they would present the new model, though it was said to be in its early stages still.

...

He doesn't know how it happened, how he'd gotten here, but all he knew was that he had seen red. When he gotten to see his new mech suit, it seemed oddly familiar in touch, in fact something about it made him feel sick to his stomach.

Small dents and scarring coated the plating around the panels that opened to the cockpit. He recognised that plating, from crawling on it with his magnets, sleeping on them comfortably despite being made of metal (there was something so warm about it, but that warmth was....lost. He wanted to puke). But what broke the string holding him together, a scar, a scar so familiar it sent him back to the exact moment he witnessed his partner getting it in the first place.

Jazz had weilded that shut himself, they had gotten in a bad scuffle a while back, and with worry he wanted to try and make sure Prowl wouldn't be in too much pain before they could get some proper help.

"Jazz?" Someone called out to him. That was the last thing he remembered.

Now? Now he stood by the halls in which they didn't allow the likes of him inside, the halls in which the scientists worked on. He made a fast dash to the last room, the room one of the scientists told him had the one he was looking for (though he wasn't proud to admit he had perhaps aggressively gotten that answer out of the poor guy). He had a weird unknown blaster weapon with him that he had ripped from the mech suit he was supposed to try out (deep down, he hoped that weapon didn't belong to Prowl. He hoped that he wasn't too late), using that, he blasted the door open hoping that would keep anyone from stopping him from getting inside.

As soon as Jazz layed his eyes on the scene before him; his partner hanging from wires holding him into place, chain keeping him from leaving, mutilated almost beyong recognition save his face, and with a small weak staticked cry from his partner, "Jazz?" the small bit of awarness he had gained back was gone again. All he could do in that moment was to yell, a desperate cry that came from the pits of his lungs.

"GET AWAY FROM MY PARTNER!"

And in another flurry of motions he didn’t have complete control over, he was beating the ever living hell out of the prick who decided it was a good idea to mess with HIS partner! He didn’t even know how long he had been at it until the twisted man he called a boss scratched his face, small bits of blood flowing out. In shock and pain, he grabbed the man by the neck of his shirt and threw him to the otherside of the room. Once he was certain that he wouldn't be getting up again, he turned to face Prowl once more, running and calling out to him as he ran to scoop up his beloved's face, blurting out a mess of an apology.

"I'm so sorry, i shouldn't have brought you here- we, we need to get you out-"

Oh did the guilt eat him up from the inside, he- he shouldn't have brought him here. Prowl probably hated him right now, but the sudden distant bell of an alarm down the halls had him scrambling to his feet to try and make things right.

Suddenly, as adrenaline slowly faded off, he realised how much damage he had actually taken throughout his rampage, a limp on his left leg catching up to him. Stinging pain on his face and limbs, but he needed to keep moving, they weren't safe yet.

"I have to get you to a safe place," he mumbled, mostly to himself, "and- and then maybe call for help. Oh but who could i even go to?" As he spoke, he started to set Prowl's limbs free from it's chains, gods they were so damaged, he could barely look at the missing parts. But as he worked his way through, he let out small sighs of relief to see that at least, he seemed to not be missing some vital parts. He could still maybe make a run for it, if only he could stall the facility long enough-

"You really shouldn't have...."

Jazz turned in shock, Prowl's voice snapping him out of his panicked haze.

"Prowl..." if he wasn’t crying already, now he certainly was. Gods he fucked up badly.

Not having the courage to face the other just yet, he turned back to the chained leg he had been working on. Prowl didn't seem to have wanted an answer either way, sitting up as he watched the organic do his work (Jazz tried to ignore the missing arm).

As he finished getting rid of the chain, he got up again, letting out a hiss of pain from his injuries (which did not go unnoticed by the mech). Clutching his left side as a bleeding cut let out a terrible stinging sensation which he doesn't think he'll ever get used to, he walked over to the final limb stuck under chains. As he walked over, he briefed over the quick plan he thought of

"Look, i- i know you might not trust me right now-" a huff, almost soundling like a disbeliefing chuckle, was heard from the mech, Jazz ignored it. "But there is a place you can go to and hide, hide- hide until maybe i can get help or- or find a way to send you back-"

"You wouldn't make it that far." Prowl spoke, matter of factly, which got a hit under Jazz's skin

"I know that! Which is why you will make a run for it. There's an exit by the other side of this room where you can leave-"

A sudden realisation hit Prowl. Jazz wasn't planning on coming with him.

And the human nodded, seeming to understand that Prowl finally got what he was saying. As he reached the last final screw to Prowl's chains, he finished off what he was trying to say "I'll keep them busy long enough for you to leave," before he could finish, as the final screw was let lose and Prowl was free to move, he felt himself be lift up from the ground and let out a startled yelp. "Wha- HEY!"

It took Jazz being shoved inside Prowl's cockpit for him to realise that he had been picked up by the mech (maybe a possible concussion he thought to himself). Jazz couldn't even try to jump out as, despite it missing the plating to shut him inside, Prowl placed his servo up to close to exit.

Desperately and confused, Jazz called out, "What are you doing?!"

To be entirely honest, Prowl wasn't sure himself, he was just as confused as the human to his actions, usually so full of logic. This one was acted apon pure emotion. Emotion of fear, anxiety, anger but most importantly

Desperation

Because somehow, this stupid human had his spark between his fingers, and he'd be dammed if he let him get himself killed just for him.

This isn't how he would want to say goodbye

---

Thanks again, to my sister who pushed me to write this, and also helped out in some parts!

Might have done more if i could, but it's super late rn lol (it's 4am and our mon will kills us for staying up this late).

Again sorry for any OOC moments, but i hope this was to your enjoyment! Maybe i can do a part 3 to this, but idk enough about how things work to do that, so i let anyone be free to mess around with this :]

Oh my... oh fuck I can't. I just keep thinking about Prowl pressing his palm on his chest even when other humans eventually get to him and start shooting. He's a mess, half of his armor is missing he's probably leaving an energon trail behind him. But he knows that while it would take a lot of bullets to take him down, it would take only one lucky bullet to kill Jazz. I'm. AUGh

[tthoroughfare]

kerosene // ellie williams

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: the setup of a slow burn between you and ellie.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: jackson!ellie x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* content: sfw

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 1.7k

so... this actually started out as NOTHING. i planned for it to be nothing. just me, my pages app and my love for jackson!ellie & that fuck ass hoodie against the world. howeverrrr i may or may not have written almost 10k so far that i'm planning to split up (and continue) into an ongoing series just focusing on you and ellie living in jackson, spending time with your friends, slowly falling in love. real piners rise

god i just love jackson ellie so much. her little nerdy cocky self

the idea of being friends and pining over each other for literal years because you’re both too scared to say anything… catching the other staring, having a few little moments here and there but chalking it up to nothing because you both don’t believe the other would see you like that.

and then she starts dating cat and you’re just like welp. guess this is really never ever gonna happen after all. you let yourself mope for a while, not wanting to go out as much for fear of seeing them together and feeling that strange pang in your chest — just overall being weird and avoiding ellie. you feel silly, really, locking yourself away and listening to sad music over someone you were never even with.

you selfishly hope it doesn’t last long, that it’s just a fling, but when months go by and they’re still together, you come to some sort of acceptance. you even date someone else for a short while to try and take your mind off of her, but quickly realize you’re just searching for scattered parts of her in someone else. and something in your gut tells you that while nothing’s wrong within the relationship, it just doesn’t feel right. doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to.

meanwhile, ellie’s mindset was that she never really saw you as attainable in the first place. and she did genuinely really like cat, so when she initiated the relationship, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t excited to see where it went. you were always at the back of her mind, though. she didn’t like the way you’d distanced yourself. you were never best friends, but definitely fairly close. she felt the switch almost overnight, the way you stopped going out of your way to talk to her, stopped asking her to tag along when you'd hang out with jesse and dina. she didn’t know what your deal was. the thought that you might be jealous did cross her mind, but she quickly swatted it away. why would you be jealous? it’s only her.

when you started seeing someone yourself, it was like confirmation. nothing was ever gonna happen, you weren’t jealous; how could any of that be the case when you were right there, with someone else? she cursed herself for even thinking about any of it, guilty conscience thick when her mind would then turn to cat. she knew she shouldn’t be deliberating whether you were jealous, whether you liked her, whether anything could ever happen between you, when she had a girlfriend.

she tried her hardest to push you out of her mind whenever you’d arise. she still saw you around, sometimes alone, sometimes with your girlfriend. you’d talk pleasantly, share a few laughs, but it wasn’t like it used to be.

and then one day, when she’s on her way home, she sees you by yourself. you’re sitting under a tree reading, headphones in. she can’t help but notice you look a little melancholy, like you don’t want to be bothered. she deliberates on whether to disturb you or not, stopping, then going to walk away, then stopping again. against her better judgement, she wanders over to you and nudges you gently with the side of her foot.

you look up, offering a small smile and tugging your headphones out. “hey.”

“hey.” ellie mirrors you, shooting back a soft smile of her own. a beat of slightly awkward silence passes as she tries to think of the reason she actually came over. she doesn’t even have one.

“what’s up?” you ask after a few seconds.

“uh… not much. just… uh… wanted to say hi.”

the corner of your mouth quirks into a slight smirk. “well… you just did.”

ellie breathes out a quiet chuckle, bringing her hands together to mess with her fingers. “very funny.” she pauses, then hesitantly crouches and sits beside you. “whatcha reading?”

you turn the cover so that she can see it. “mystery book,” you say, eyes flitting between ellie and the novel, before you rest it back in your lap, starting to lightly read again.

“you want me to tell you who the killer is?”

you chuckle, looking back up at ellie. “sure, take a stab at it.”

ellie’s eyebrows raise slightly. “pun intended?”

you tilt your head, raising an eyebrow as you realize what you just said. “nope. guess i’m just too witty.”

she looks down and smiles lightly, before looking up at the sky in feigned thought. she clicks her fingers. “it’s the priest.”

you let out a laugh. “there isn’t even a priest in it.”

“that’s what you think,” she quips back, feigning seriousness. “he will be introduced in… 43 pages.”

you roll your eyes, unable to hold back a smile. “shut up.”

“nope. wanna hear some more of my predictions? 100% accuracy guaranteed.”

“sure.”

“… you’re in a shitty mood,” ellie says matter-of-factly, before her voice softens. “seriously, you good? you look all…”

she trails off, gesturing at you slightly.

you chew at the inside of your cheek. truth be told, you are in a shitty mood, but you didn’t realize it was visible. plus, you don’t really want to talk about it. especially not to ellie, of all people. “yeah, nah, i’m fine.”

she just gives you a look in reply — one to say, ‘i’m not stupid’. to which, you let out a small sigh and shake your head. you’re not good at lying to ellie. “okay, i guess i may be in a… tiny bit of a slump.”

she shuffles a bit, leaning back on her hands. “why? what’s wrong?”

you pick at your nail, pausing. “i don’t know, man. just… yeah. stuff.”

“what kinda stuff?”

you curse her in your head for pushing, but simultaneously feel a pulse in your chest that she cares. you don’t particularly want to talk to ellie about your relationship. or lack thereof. it feels embarrassing, for some reason. in the end, you let out a small, defeated sigh. “ugh. just… so… i’m not with you-know-who anymore.”

ellie raises her eyebrows, trying to ignore the way she feels selfish relief. “damn. that sucks.”

you shrug. “i suppose so.”

another awkward pause occurs as ellie tries to think of what to say. comforting people has never really been her forte, but she wants to try for you. plus, she’s curious. “…wh-what happened?”

you look up, eyes flitting around the scenery, pulling a small face as you think. “nothing, really. just… wasn’t working. like… didn’t really feel right, y’know?”

she quirks an eyebrow, looking sideways at you. “so it was you, huh?”

you let out something between a breathed out chuckle and a groan. “…yeah. i felt really mean.”

“damn. you’re ruthless. heartbreaker,” she teases deadpan in response, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

to which, you roll your eyes and snicker, the smile lingering on your face. even in the worst mood, you’d noticed, ellie could always make you laugh somehow. “shut up. it wasn’t like that.”

“then what was it like?”

you shrug lightly, toying with the cover of your book. “i don’t know. went as best as it could, i suppose. i have nothing against her, nothing happened, it just… yeah. like i said. wasn’t right.”

ellie hums in acknowledgment, looking away in thought. her silence feels a little uncomfortable, driving you to babble on. “i don’t know, she’s nice and everything, but it just felt like we were kind of… wasting each other’s time. i didn’t see it actually going anywhere. i know we’re still young, and… y’know, it’s hardly like we have to marry each other or whatever. but something just felt missing. i don’t know.”

you glance at ellie briefly, then back down at your book, tracing the cover art with your fingertip. “like… you and cat. you guys seem happy. what does that feel like?”

she feels a little taken off guard. she’s not used to talking about this with anyone; anyway, nobody’s ever really asked. she shifts, sitting cross legged and leaning her forearms on her thighs, messing with her hands. “uh… i don’t know. i haven’t really thought about it.”

you furrow your eyebrows slightly. not really the reaction you were expecting. “oof. what does that mean?”

ellie lets out a drawn out hum, wrinkling her chin. “… i don’t know. i suppose it just feels… hm. it’s just… what it is. i guess.”

you pull a face, blowing air through your nose. “wow. don’t get too sappy on me, now. you’re gushing.”

her eyes roll in response to your sarcasm, a lopsided smirk on her face. “shut up.”

you mirror her smile, meeting her eyes for a few seconds, trying to shove down the way it burns a hole through you, makes your chest feel like it’s constricting.

the moment is broken by a call of ellie’s name. you both automatically look up, spotting cat strolling over with a bright smile on her face. 

“speak of the devil,” you murmur jokingly, turning to look back at ellie briefly.

she scoffs in response, moving to stand up. when cat presses a small kiss to her lips in greeting, resting a hand on her arm, you avert your eyes.

cat looks down at you, offering a soft smile and a wave. “hey.”

“hey,” you reply, looking back up. you did really like cat. you weren’t necessarily friends, but she was cool, and funny, and always nice to you. you flit your eyes between her and ellie as she turns back, addressing her girlfriend.

“i was on my way to yours. we still watching a movie tonight?”

ellie looks down at you, then back at cat, an unreadable expression on her face. “uh… yeah, yeah. for sure.”

cat smiles at ellie, taking her hand and lightly swinging it between them. “… well, we’ll leave you to it,” she says to you.

you nod slowly. “yup. catch you two later.”

you wave half-heartedly at them both as they walk away hand-in-hand, free hands returning the gesture. you busy yourself with putting your headphones back in and choosing a new song, but if you were looking up, you’d have seen ellie look back at you. twice.

[kisses4reid]

scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 1)

synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, multi-part, pregnancy scare, reader has sort of a douche bf, one sided love (at first), angst and fluff

warnings - pregnancy talk, mentions of sex, unhealthy relationships, stress, sickness

w/c - 1.4k?? take a guess cause that’s mine.

a/n - i’ve got 9 weeks free. yeah, i have a job. and yeah, i have about 6 other hobbies i enjoy. but am i gonna make promises i can’t keep about writing more?? yeah. i am. here, enjoy. (pls lemme know abt mistakes it’s rlly late at night rn.)

The plane whirrs, small chatter from Morgan and who you assumed to be Penelope over the phone humming along with the music you try to distract yourself with. It isn’t working.

Because every song has its own special and quirky musical instrument that happens to sound like a message notification. And you keep getting your hopes up.

Your left leg started to bounce, your fingernails found their way to your anxious teeth. And Spencer noticed.

He noticed about halfway through the case, when you stopped talking as much, started drinking an influx of water, started discreetly taking pain medication. At first, he thought it was a simple stomach bug, and he knew your stomach didn’t agree with a lot of travel. But then you started getting nervous.

Spencer glanced at you a few times before moving, sitting next to you (attempting to be discreet). He can’t be discreet though, because every time he’s around you, his body does this weird thing where it can’t decide whether it should be instantly calm or instantly more nervous. Your presence stopped his fidgeting hands, his tired thoughts. But god, when he looked at you, it’s like his heart wants to see you for itself.

And right now his heart hurt, why were you scared?

You barely noticed Spencer sit down, usually you would, but your phone was annoyingly blank, silent. You turned it off and on three times, and re-entered the plane’s wifi password five times.

And now your stomach was grumbling, and not in the way that those nice small sandwiches can help out with.

“Are you okay?”

You jumped, taking your earphones out and staring at Spencer surprised. You laughed nervously, quietly, “Spencer! Sorry. Yeah, I’m fine.”

His warm eyes searched yours and for a second you could ignore the tight feeling in your chest. It made you think back around 8 months ago, when Penelope, your childhood best friend and now co-worker, created a pros and cons list for both Lloyd, and… Spencer.

It was unprofessional and inappropriate, especially when you decided to listen because you had nothing better to do. And especially when she started making some good points.

He squinted his eyes, and you sighed.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit antsy. Feeling a bit… off.”

You felt sick, and stressed, and like your thoughts were going to be the cause of your death. Because you’ve never been sick like this. And to your overworked brain, it only meant one thing.

Spencer’s a great profiler. And although the team collectively agreed to not profile each other, it becomes hard for Spencer when the girl he’s in love with is so obviously in distress. Even worse when he can’t be the hero.

“I can leave you to sleep if you want.” He says, getting up to leave.

“Oh, no. That’s okay. Honestly, I think sleeping would just make it worse.”

Ah, right. Travel sickness, Spencer thought. He gaps his mouth slightly and nods. He relaxes into the couch and looks over to you, heart picking up slightly as pieces of hair fell from your loose ponytail.

You looked over to the table he was previously sat at, the book you gifted him last Christmas open and nearly finished. You smiled to yourself, but it was bittersweet.

“You’re actually reading it?” You asked, looking back at him with slight surprise.

“Of course. I’ve read it 6 times already, it’s a great pallet cleanser- Just like you said in that Christmas card!” He smiled childishly, like he was recalling the first snow.

“I know right! It’s so simple but interesting, I mean I’ve only read it three times but to me I always found it to clear my head.”

Spencer angled himself towards you, “Did you know that the author actually interviewed his daughter’s teachers to see what ages teachers were more invested in compared to class sizes? He said in an interview that depending on a students intelligence, there’s an underlying emotional connection made between student and teacher,” he took a breath, “It plays into the intelligence to ego ratio that so many people claim isn’t true. Which I’m not trying to say you have a big ego, or that I do-“

You waved you hands, “Woah, woah. Why would I think you’re talking about me?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Well, you’re very intelligent.”

“Oh!… Thanks for thinking I’m intelligent, or smart.” You shrugged, “But I think you insulted yourself. You don’t have a 187 IQ for nothing do you?”

“You remembered my IQ?” He laughed nervously. His smile warms your chest like a candle. Like that candle he got you randomly in April, after you mentioned your favourite one being used up by your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend. Ugh.

You smile falters for only a second, “Of course. You only mention it to every person that second guesses you.”

He nods and smiles, “Must be my ego.”

You laugh, subconsciously bumping your shoulder with his. But- Jesus. Your stomach is queasy.

“Hey, uh, do you want some travel sickness pills?” He reached over for his satchel but you grab his forearm and smile as convincingly as you can.

“No, no. We’re landing soon, but thank you.”

You’re overreacting.

That’s what he said. When you texted your boyfriend of a year and a half that you thought you were pregnant he said, You’re overreacting. Two words, two hours after your first text, on his day off.

Maybe you are. You started feeling sick on a slightly more gory case, it’s lasted ever since the case started, you get travel sick as well.

The headaches are from the computer screen and stress. The stress is from fatigue. The fatigue is because of the lack of sleep. The lack of sleep is because of the headaches.

Why do you always do this? Always thinking that there’s something wrong with you. Always being the biggest person in your own life, selfish.

But… what if?

There’s a sudden squeak from behind you, and you instantly snapped out of it. You took a deep breath and looked at your surroundings. You were at your desk, standing, the strap of your bag clutched in your hands - god, your knuckles were white. Your eyes darted in surprise and confusion, and you jumped once again when Spencer spoke into the silence.

“You okay?”

“Um…”

You didn’t look back at him, only looking down at your shoes and taking a deep breath. You plastered on a smile despite the bile collecting in your throat.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve gonna go, the bus leaves at um…”

You took out your phone. He didn’t even respond to your text asking him to pick you up.

“I’ll drive you home. But uh, I gotta pick up some groceries. I hope you don’t mind.”

He curved to your desk and gently took your bag from your hands, glancing at the way you traced your knuckles and how the leather strap now had slight wrinkles in it. He smiled, warmly. And he started walking like you rejecting the idea wasn’t an option.

Which is wasn’t, because he knew you too well.

“Well, a cucumber actually has 3% more water than watermelon. So if you really want a refreshing snack, cucumber is your man.”

You smiled and raised your eyebrows in interest. He’s had many vegetables and fruits in the basket, not a lot of protein. Explained a lot.

My man, you thought with a smile.

My man, you shivered.

“I don’t like cucumbers.” You said like it was distraction, and he nodded, picking up some kewpie mayo as he you around to the next aisle. He glanced at you,

“I know. You say it’s tasteless. I like it.” He shrugged.

“I know.” You smiled, and he smiles back.

God, you wish you could bask in it, the warmth. But your chest was still tingly, and your heart hadn’t stopped aching ever since you got excited about an email notification.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay? I noticed you’ve been tense for like… a week.” He grabbed some pasta sauce and put his hand on your shoulder to turn you around - you obviously looked too far into your own head.

“Yeah, just feeling-“

“Y/n.” He turned to you, stopping your venture into the dairy aisle. His eyes were hard, worried. The fluorescent lights swayed slightly. A worker walked by the end of the aisle with a trolley full of food.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t,” he lifted one arm, wanting to rest his hand on your upper arm, to help you, “Don’t say sorry. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I have been feeling sick. That’s true. And I’ve been stressed and, thinking a lot. A lot.”

It felt weird to nearly tell Spencer about your relationship problems. It was like complaining to a doctor about healing crystals. It was like a slap in the face. Maybe that’s why you never did tell him about it, because it was facing your fears.

It was the pros and cons list made by Penelope.

But I’m overreacting.

“It’s nothing.”

Spencer sighed. You had that habit, of nearly opening up, and then shutting the door just as he was about to walk in.

You heard his sigh.

“Okay. I gave Lloyd my car because he has the day off, and he likes going to his friends houses on his days off. And, I told him something that should probably freak him out. But he doesn’t really care. I don’t think he really cares, about anything. At least about me.”

You started walking, because holy shit you’ve never said that out loud before, and Spencer followed you,

“Y/n, if you want to tell me something-“

“I think I’m pregnant.” You stopped, and started picking at your fingers, acting as if it was admitting to not knowing your left and rights, or that you don’t really like coconut.

His eyes widen, and his heart drops. It was like his worst nightmare coming true- jesus, how could he even think about himself right now? The girl he loved felt trapped with a man she thought might be the father of her baby.

Spencer gulped, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

You looked at each other, scared, you more than him. And then you cringed,

“God, I’m sorry Spencer. I shouldn’t have said anything-“

“No- Y/n, it’s fine. I’m glad you told me-“

“I haven’t even, like, taken a test yet-“

“Wait so-”

You spun on your heel and looked at him exasperated.

“So… let’s go get some tests.” He said (he hopes) calmly. He was really trying, to pretend to be calm and collected. That’s what you needed, a clear head to replace yours.

He paid for everything, even the 5 pregnancy tests and the over sized lollipop you put in the basket to ease your nerves later on.

The moon was high, you were about three hours late to get home now, and your head was attacking itself with rambles and aches and honestly, you were sick of it.

You shivered, huddling in your jacket and drawing only slightly closer to Spencer. His silence was like a hook, drawing you in closer and higher and taking every word you had been thinking that day to the tip of your tongue.

You looked up to him. His hair fell into his eyes, the breeze reddening his cheeks slightly.

It’s Spencer. You’ve known him for nearly 6 years, but it feels like you’ve known each other for ever. You know everything about him, and he knows everything about you. Well, not everything. He doesn’t know how you feel in your own apartment, how every anniversary had been forgotten even when it was the ‘1 year’ mark, how you felt like you were raising an over grown child who could drink.

He knows you’re strong, but admitting all that? I’d look weak.

You have looked weak in front of Spencer. He stayed overnight in your hospital room, he held you when you watched a little girl die, he wiped your tears when you watched a sad short film during your break.

You couldn’t hide anything from him.

“I don’t think I’m pregnant- Well, I mean I might be, but there’s a very low chance,” You started, Spencer’s jaw clenched for a millisecond, “I’ve just been feeling sick and… it could be because of stress from work, or just general stress- like, I don’t know.”

Spencer moved the grocery bag to his other hand.

“Kids are great, don’t get me wrong. Some people don’t get the chance to have kids. I mean…” You gulped, and Spencer finally looked down at you. But now, all you could do was stare at the car park’s concrete floor. Speaking out loud was like clearing your brain, the fog was lifting. “Lloyd doesn’t want kids. I do, at least in the future, not right now. I just hope it’s not with-“ You cut yourself off, and slow down a bit. Spencer matches your pace.

I just hope it’s not with him.

He gulps, and clears his throat, looking down at you with understanding eyes, “With everything that’s going on.”

“Yeah… yeah. You know, my job, my…” It’s no use lying to Spencer. He knows. He’s known, for a long time.

Your chest was tight, and you made eye contact with the pregnancy tests lying on top of Spencer’s groceries. The thought of going home, rushing to the bathroom, avoiding your boyfriend who was already waiting angry, made your throat close up. Because only now, when you were three hours late from work and ignoring his one attempt at a phone call, Lloyd texted, ‘I think you need to calm down.’ It was a bare minimum, and finally Spencer could see you realizing it.

No, ‘Wre you okay?’, ‘What’s making you think this?’ ‘Where are you?’

No. He was making you out to be the crazy one, the one to be over thinking, over bearing, too much.

You were confused. To put it blankly. And scared. And questioning your life decisions. And honestly you just wanted to curl up in a ball and to have Spencer make you bad cucumber salad at his warm apartment.

You looked up to Spencer but he was already looking down at you, reaching for his keys and nodding, “You can come to mine, it’ll be okay.”

taglist (open) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner

[crazyvik97rpg]

William clearly didn’t take no for an answer or anything - he promised him to cook him the most delicious burger, pamper him fully. Clearly he wasn’t playing around at all. Sebastian giggled.

„I will let you know“, he hummed then once William asked him to tell him in case he started to feel fatigued or weak. Well, so far Sebastian felt alright - walking around and breathing fresh air felt really nice, even though his upper body still felt sore. The pain meds numbed him just enough, he wore warm socks and a fluffy morning robe, additionally to a jacket on top since it was somewhat chilly outside. He did feel that he was kind of getting cold.

Maybe Sebastian’s body still wasn’t fully back, fully in possession of his powers. He was still strained from the surgery and didn’t eat much either. They were basically almost back by the bench and the wheel chair when it happened. „I‘m-…kinda dizzy“, Sebastian mumbled - suddenly he felt weird, the whole world spinning for a moment and the second he said that, his legs kind of gave out. It was like a sudden circulatory collapse and Sebastian just passed out for a split second.

He was back awake almost immediately, maybe two seconds or so, blinking his eyes in confusion - it passed as quickly as it came. „Wait, what happened…?“

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[escapisttt]

a lot of this was supposed to be posted for redacted kinktober but. college got in the way. i’m ovulating let me have this. it’s very long OOPS WHO LET ME OUT OF MY CAGE.

NSFW LMAO

lasko has a puppy kink. he likes being told he’s a good boy and craves to be of service to dear. would do anything to please them and do it well; it’s what turns him on the most. leash and collar. god, he’d lick the fucking dirt from their shoes if it made them smile down at him. yeah perhaps him and ash could bond over this. the difference between them though is that during those moments, lasko will never goof off or make jokes meanwhile ash is a bit of a brat. lasko would never disobey dear, but ash likes to push baabe’s buttons so that they “force” him into submission.

milo uses “good girl/good boy/good pet” hnnnngghh. as well as “pretty girl/pretty boy/pretty thing” oh my god. he’s so good at praise.

milo is usually pretty physically rough with it, going fast and deep, but you wouldn’t know that if you were just listening to his voice. sometimes while he’s absolutely fucking sweetheart’s brains out, he’s right in their ear speaking so softly and encouragingly with soooo much praise. “that’s right baby, ‘m i doin’ it right?” when he KNOWS he’s doing it right, he just wants to hear their confirmation. “yeah, lemme touch you, you like that? tell me you like that.” he looooves making sweetheart tell him how they’re feeling, and when they inevitably confirm that it feels good, he nods and doubles down. he craves good feedback, it’s his praise kink. “awwww i know it feels good baby, ‘m gonna make it feel even better.” it’s not condescending, it’s confidence. he knows what he’s good at, and he wants to get better. he’s a huge pleaser.

this is self indulgent if you aren’t into daddy kinks don’t read this one lmao. but daddy milo is soooo real to me. “was that too much? aw ‘m sorry baby, daddy’ll make it feel better. shh shh it’s okay, daddy’s sorry…” OUUUGGHHHH. “daddy wants what you want baby, tell‘im what you want. c’mon, be good and use your words, daddy wants to hear you,” i can’t do this anymore RELEASEEE MEEEEEEE. milo does it tastefully okay he’s not one of the weird ones TRUST ME.

milo who subs occasionally. to put a number on it, about 10% of the time. it may not be his natural default, but when the time is right, it’s so right. it happens one of two ways: either milo had a really rough, tiring day and needs to be coaxed into being cared for, or his sweetheart had been relentlessly teasing him. he’s such a brat at first, rejecting every dominant advance from sweetheart with a performative cocky demeanor, but it breaks down quickly enough when they touch him in the right places.

porter is such a masochist, but not in a traditionally submissive way. god, he loves when treasure slaps his face, yanks his hair, and scratches his back deeply on purpose. he likes being choked a little sometimes as well. but when all of these things are enacted on him, he smiles. he’s got a cocky grin and he’s nodding emphatically, his hips pistoning, almost twitching, even if he’s not inside of treasure. he’s groaning and his eyes are rolling back, but he’s not submitting. he’s daring them to do more, knowing that the only one whose limits being tested are theirs: how much are they able to take of porter when he’s losing himself to the pain? the more intense the pain, the harder he fucks treasure. basically porter is saying without saying, “the more you hurt me, the more i’ll pleasure you.” treasure essentially controls their own pleasure through him; if they want him to go faster, they dig their nails into his back or his scalp or his hips. and as soon as they let go, he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and eases back down to a slower pace. and porter knows what they’re doing. he likes it. he likes that they have that level of control over him, but he’s absolutely not a whimpering mess like lasko.

david does not like using toys or bondage material. that’s his job. he’s very animalistic in the sense that he does not want anything, even objects, interfering with his time with his mate. he’s the type to get jealous of a vibrator or any sex toy. not because he’s worried about it doing a better job than him, but because it was the thing pleasuring his mate and not him. if his angel is in the mood, he wants to know so he can take care of it. an unspoken rule in the shaw house is that neither of them are allowed to touch themselves. david sticks to this rule through and through, but if angel is caught in the action, the punishment is pretty intense, meaning overstimulation. david is usually quite rough and is already a lot to take even when he’s going slow, so him when he’s angry can be… a lot. he’s got angel on their tummy in the prone bone position and is absolutely laying into them, growling in their ear with genuine irritation. “you should’ve told me… why didn’t you tell me? is this not cutting it for you? you had enough of this cock? i thought you liked it. thought you liked being full of me, not a piece of fucking plastic.” yeah he’s angy. and he’s not being mean to them, he just wants to prove to them and remind them how good he makes them feel. they shouldn’t want anything else. and when angel does it because they think david is too busy for them? yeah he would stay up during all hours of the night to prove them wrong. “how do you think like that, hm? you think i’d put work above this? god angel, i do everything to come home to you, give my time to you. you don’t get that? let me keep showin’ you….”

azmidi who literally nuts on a lot of phone call role plays with sweetie (it’s canon yall hear the way his breath shakes all the time). just hearing their pretty voice, god he feels his pants getting tighter (if he wears those lol). he demands they tell him about their day even though they know he knows exactly how their day went. it feeds into that delicious fear of stalking, the idea that their every movement is being tracked and scrutinized and constantly mulled over. he wants to listen to them talk while he palms himself, nodding along with their version of events, happy that they’re being obedient and not lying to him. he doesn’t have to take himself out of his pants, though he likes to most times. he can come without that, just dry humping into his hand and pressing the phone to his ear, letting out the occasional moan. he knows sweetie can hear him, and if they show signs of getting flustered, it only makes him harder. “you know what you’re doing to me, right? you—you know… oh god…. hey, don’t stop. don’t stop talking. you’ve been doing such a good job, sweetie. let me hear you.”

william “eye contact” solaire. hngggnhnnhg. let’s imagine he’s got a long term partner, right? he is suuuuuuch a gentle lover. he’s not about rough sex very much, he’s too sophisticated lol. no, the actual reason he isn’t too keen on rough sex is because to him, his lover is a deity; an angel that walks the earth, the image of divine perfection. he isn’t going to treat them like a ragdoll, he worships the air they breathe for gods sake. he doesn’t see himself nearly worthy enough to be their companion, their equal. he gives them everything and then apologizes because it just isn’t enough. when he gave them their crown? “i hope you like it. the jewels are the finest i could find of course, for you. i—i perhaps could have gotten larger ones… i apologize. oh, but the weight may be a bit much for your neck… oh dear.” yeah this man is rich but he fucking won’t be if his partner doesn’t stop him from spoiling them. but i’m ranting, this is supposed to be about sex lmfao please ask me to make a post ab william i will do it so fast. this aspect of himself shows especially when he and his partner are intimate. he’s on his knees a lot of the time, staring up at his lover with worshipful reverence. he pleads in his soft spoken voice, his eyes fluttering shut as they put their hand on his cheek. “my love, what would you have me do for you? ask me anything.” and he means anything.

[cherrycranes]

Claustrophobia (Edward Dillinger Jr. x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Edward Dillinger Jr x female reader Summary: What's worse than getting stuck in an elevator when you're claustrophobic? Being stuck in an elevator with your hot boss/work crush when you're claustrophobic! Word count: 5,141 Contents: Slight age gap (Reader is in her 20's, Edward is in his early 30's), only one use of Y/N, reader is claustrophobic, reader has a panic attack, virgin reader, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, pulling out, technically public sex. Edward asks for consent a lot. Author's notes: This is a collab with my dear @lauuren! She wrote the intro and the oral sex scene and I am in awe at her talent. I desperately want to spread the "stan Edward Dillinger Jr" agenda. I will not stop. There's a character playlist I made about him at the end of this fic. Please stan Edward Dillinger Jr, Lauren and I are all alone in this boat.

A quiet ding could be heard throughout an empty modern hallway of the ENCOM building, announcing that the elevator had just arrived at your floor. After both automatic doors had slid open, and a quiet sigh escaped your lips, your steps made their way inside the confined space of the machine.

Not only a second after, a loud confident stride joined you inside, just before the doors closed. You already knew who the person was just by the sound of his fine leather boots on the floor, and by his signature scent you, oh, so adored.

Your boss, Ed, or rather Mister Dillinger, as you usually called him, stood right next to you, fixing his navy bow-tie. You caught a glimpse of him with your peripheral vision and you felt your cheeks burning with heat. And not just them. The shameless sensation reached your pussy at record speed and you could feel the fabric of your crimson-colored panties getting slightly damp. Something that had been happening ever since you started working for him.

It was his nicely ironed dark blue suit, his silky-smooth vest, his glasses, or maybe the way he stood there paying attention to the screen of his iPad - it all sent shivers to all the right places. The places you never even knew you could feel something at.

“Evening, sir.” You chirped, hoping to catch his attention.

His head turned upwards from the tablet, his eyes finding your own. He fixed the glasses on the bridge of his nose with his fingers, and you were fighting all your inner demons to not stare at them.

“Ah, Y/N…” His sentence was interrupted by a weird rambling and a thud. The lights of the elevator flickered a few times, and the machine stopped.

You always felt kind of nauseous every time you stepped into that elevator. All your muscles tensed and your breathing got slightly shallow until you got off. But being stuck in such a horrible and confined space really did not help your claustrophobia. Quite the opposite… You felt panic starting to flood your mind, darkening it with fear.

“Oh, my God.” A last breath of tranquility escaped your lips when everything above and below you stopped dead on its tracks. And the brief flicker of the lights prevented it from coming back to you.

Your desperate fingers broke through a tremor and frantically pressed every button that looked like an emergency one. And then, when the elevator doors did not magically open, you rushed to double-press every single button to no avail. 

“Shit!” You exhaled, giving up and giving in into your worst fear. The metal around you sizzled and constricted like it burnt, your vision blurred and the pressure in your stomach made you feel so hollow yet so heavy. The tortuous beating of your heart took over your ears so loudly, you didn't catch your boss' voice. It wasn't until his hand touched your shoulder, that you could make out the words.

“Hey... Relax.... Relax.” Edward repeated, his voice so unfazed, like it wasn't his first time stuck in there. You didn't turn to face him, it would have mortified you twice as much. So you pressed your forehead against the wall, finding it colder than expected.

“Calm down, people will come for us. It won't take long, I promise... Just calm down, breathe with me…”

It was all a big, draining whirlwind you were trapped in, but somehow you found the will in you to follow him. Seven seconds of air filling your lungs, five of holding it there and six of exhaling it. Repeated several times until your feet were back on the ground and your forehead felt the wall warming up to your touch. 

“That's it... It's ok…” Edward repeated, his hand very gently touched your upper arm and slowly pulled you away from the useless button board and towards his chest. He must have set his Ipad down on the elevator floor during your panic, because he carefully guided you with both hands towards the center. You calmed down a little more, putting all your focus on the right amount of seconds for each breathing phase. With all the gentleness he had, he started to sit you both down, with you between his legs, your back against his chest and your ear close to his lips.

“Easy… That’s good… You’re ok… You’re going to be ok…” He kept soothing you, his hands rubbing comforting circles over your arms. Slowly but surely, it had an effect on you. And then it finally hit you: you had just had a panic attack. IN FRONT OF YOUR BOSS/WORK CRUSH. And while you dreaded thinking about it, you wished the elevator would just plummet down the building. 

“You know, this has happened to me two times before… The longest I’ve been here is about 15 minutes… They always notice if there’s something wrong with the elevators.” Edward’s warm voice snapped you out of your thoughts. At least a rescue was ensured. But that still didn’t fix your embarrassment… Oh, God must really like seeing you suffer. What must Mister Dillinger think of you now? He must think you’re pathetic and stupid and…

“So don’t worry, baby…. I’m here with you…” Baby… BABY. You almost didn’t believe it. And you would have told yourself it was an auditory illusion but then, his hand slowly started to move down your arms. His lips and stubble caressed your ear, giving you a good shiver. Edward kept whispering soft praises the more you relaxed and you felt in heaven.

“Good girl.” He murmured, and your cheeks burned. The cheeky little warmth your pussy always felt when he was near returned with renewed intensity now that you were in his arms, and now that you were “baby” and “good girl”. 

His left hand stopped tracing circles on your arm and traveled to your chest, tenderly lazing over the side of your breast. Not kneading it or even attempting to cup it, just lingering there in a silent plea for permission.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop…” His voice was soft against your ear, his hands completely stayed still over your beautiful body, expectant for a cue or a full on red light. You had found that his touch had a soothing effect on you. There was something so calming about his big hands, his warmth and, on top of all things, his understanding nature.

“Don’t stop…” More than a cue, this was a soft little plea. You needed to feel him all over you, his warmth washing away the fear and the constriction. 

On command, his hand on your breast kneaded the flesh so softly over your bra until he found your nipple, making you moan quietly.

“That’s it… Just relax… Let me take care of you…” His voice was huskier now. The combination of his stubble and his breath on your ear was a sensory experience drawn out straight from your fantasies. You obeyed, the last bits of tension in your body fading away the more he fondled your now hardened nipple.

As for Edward, he swallowed thickly, his cock was growing uncomfortably harder in his tight pants. A desperate need started to tug on his reason and he swiftly moved onto the next step when he noted your new calmness and your quiet moans. 

“Is this ok?” He whispered again, making your eyelashes flutter and your lips part when the hand that wasn’t massaging your breast reverently and very carefully traveled down your abdomen. You nodded and he smiled ever so slightly before taking in the shape of your thigh with his palm.

That morning when you picked out your outfit, you decided against a pair of pants for not matching with your new shoes, and God, you were glad you had. Because instead, you chose to wear a cute black skirt and stockings that Edward now palmed in admiration. 

“I’ve never told you… But you always look so stunning…” He confessed to the skin of your neck before planting a soft kiss there, getting a reaction out of your needier and needier body. Your underwear felt damp and your lower abdomen felt hotter, lonelier.

As if he had detected it, Edward rode up your skirt slowly at first, in his usual search for permission. When you nodded again, he continued, exposing the sheer fabric of your stockings and then, a view that made him smile, your crimson panties with a flirty lace trim. 

“Naughty little girl.” Edward couldn't contain himself. Your choice of underwear had been unintentional. All your panties that would have been more suitable for a black skirt were in the laundry and your choices were limited. But you pretended it was a deliberate seduction tactic. Perhaps part of a plan to cross your legs in front of him, or bend down to pick up something at the office so he could have an ‘accidental’ little peek. Whichever way, he was a fan. His thick fingers lowered them well enough to see your little bush, something that got a guttural sound out of him.

“Just how I like them.” He growled. His fingers attracted to your heat like a magnet to metal. He ran two digits across your needy cunt, rewarding you for being so wet for him with a lustful kiss. You moaned softly once more, your eyes closed as you let the feeling sink in. You spread your legs a bit further, only hearing his breaths, the smacking of your lips together and, of course, the sounds of your slick arousal.

"God... Hear that? Hear how wet you are? Is that all for me, babe?" He gently broke the kiss and his whisper teased the skin of your earlobe along with his stubble. His fingers slowly buried themselves into your tight cunt, this time spreading you open with a scissoring motion. His index and middle fingers stretched you once experimentally, making you gasp and whine and making him groan in a pleasant surprise.

"Oh, don't tell me you're still a virgin, baby? A pretty girl like you?" He teased, half in disbelief, half in arrogance. He was going to be your first then? That knowledge filled him with a greedy, possessive, perhaps a little old-fashioned pride. Nobody had touched you or had you before. You were going to be all his. He smirked like a devil and continued his motions to get you ready for his cock.

You moaned again, lost to the lust and willing to be his, when suddenly, a sound made you clam up and open your eyes widely. Two voices outside the elevator, loudly complaining that the machine was not working.

"Mister Dillinger..." You tried to warn him in a rising panic despite the coup d’état your pussy threw over your brain. Somebody had to be the voice of reason here. Remind you both that you were stuck in the elevator, that the people you just heard could hear you. And even if they didn’t,  they would still try to get the doors to slide open. And if they did, they would discover you two were fucking in there. The embarrassment made your cheeks even redder. Or maybe it was the feeling of his fingers that kept massaging your walls. It got hard to think, your cunt only got wetter and your mind cloudier. You moaned so softly, so needily, eliciting another groan from him.

"Ed. Just call me Ed." He completely ignored the voices and whispered into your neck, placing soft kisses that led him lower and lower. His hand left your heat for a moment, making you whine in protest.

"Ed..." You called out for him. Your anxiety at being caught dissolved in your dampness. The absence of his thick fingers in you pushing you over the edge of carefulness. You've wanted him for so long, your entire body begged for his touch. 

A third voice from the outside almost pulled you out of this renewed state. But as soon as you heard the relief in that voice, telling the other two about the other elevator that still worked, you relaxed. All voices disappeared away and all you could hear now was the heavy breathing of Ed, who never stopped kissing your neck and touching you. It was the first time in your life you were glad that people who could have rescued you didn’t even notice you were there. 

“That’s it, pretty girl… It’s ok.” Ed placed another slow, rewarding kiss on your lips, and you were lost on him again. Finally, there was no tension left that could block your true wants.

He noticed that right away. His hands that roamed slowly over your breasts and waist started to travel to your hips. 

“Are you ready?” You were not sure what he meant exactly, but you were ready for anything.

“Yes.” You replied and he wasted no time. He groaned softly as he manhandled you in a 180 turn, pinning you down against the elevator floor with your knees up.

"These have to go. You're so pretty to be all covered up." Edward charmed you while he fully took off your crimson panties, tossing them aside. Once they were off, he delighted in the sight of your wet cunt. So pretty and needy. It made his cock twitch in his pants and his tongue lick his lips. A low growl of approval, more than that, rumbled in his throat.

Your arousal successfully lured him in. Each hand took hold of one of your thighs to spread you open, his grip on the soft flesh firm but careful. He didn't want to scare you, he wanted you to feel revered and beautiful. Confident and determined. He wanted you to want him as much as he wanted you. So he looked into your eyes, his pupils behind his glasses were so dillated it made something in you flutter.

"Tell me what makes you feel good." He whispered, lost in your gaze, before lowering his mouth to your clit.

You quickly tried to figure out what you liked, but since you had never done anything like this before, you didn’t know what you preferred and what not. Of course you touched yourself on the loneliest of nights, however that was completely different.

“I…”

But the single-worded reply was everything you were able to say, before a loud gasp left your lips as his mouth connected with the already sensitive skin of your damp folds. The mere feather-like contact of his lips and stubble against you was enough to throw you off edge. 

Your reaction caused his smirk to be more prominent. He opened his mouth wider as his hot breath tickled you – a prediction of his drool-covered tongue licking a fat stripe down your wet cunt. He started moving it up and down at a slow but teasing pace, wanting to reach and explore every little space and corner of your arousal, wanting to taste and devour all of you. 

“Mmhh…” your quivering voice creating a pleasurable melody for his ears.

The tip of his nose was buried at your clit, right under the bushy cut, pressuring against the receptive spot. Ed was relishing at the fact the touch increased the shivering of your already tensed up muscles, bringing you close to release of the tight knot in your lower stomach.

Adding his lips to the skilled movements of his tongue, he started sucking your clit and folds. Your breathless moans heightened on the frequency and volume. The man was hungrily lapping out on you as if you were a fine five course meal and he was a starved animal. And God, saying he could not get enough was a light word. 

“Ed-” you whined his name. “Uhh, oh God!” 

A groan formed deep down in his chest rambled out of his throat, vibrating at your slick pussy. His hands gripped at the flesh of your hips and thighs tighter, not letting you shift even an inch away from him. Your juices mixed with his drool tasted as if heaven itself landed in his mouth. It was like an addictive drug possessing all his senses.

“Fuck, you taste divine.” he was able to quickly mutter before getting back to eating you out until you would be a trembling mess.

Your hips started bucking and squirming, and he knew you were close. And he couldn't wait for the sweet treat in the form of your orgasm. His tongue kept torturing your throbbing cunt. The heat of the moment and your wetness made his glasses foggy, but your boss did not care. There was no way for him to stop now.

The merciless movements of his mouth continued until the tight knot in your abdomen finally untied as you reached the peak of pure bliss, with your moans following along. He slurped on everything, what came out as if it was the most delicious dessert he had ever eaten. 

"That's it... You're ready for me, baby." Edward whispered. His index and middle fingers traced a sticky line across your pussy, proudly showing just how eager you were for his fat cock. You moaned softly at the touch, more than aware of what you wanted: him.

“Oh God, Ed, please…” You begged ever so softly, guided by the hand by your need. Ed found it so exquisite he didn’t know when his hand reached for your cheek to cup it so tenderly.

“‘Please’ what, baby? Tell me.” His voice was a warm whisper that kept you at ease, a complete contrast to the fuss between your thighs. And he knew it. He reveled in the look in your eyes, in the way your folds clenched the air. Your mere presence had him addicted already, and he still hadn't been inside you. Yet…

“Please… Fuck me…” Embarrassment be damned, you thought, your body begged and cried for him. You wanted him not just inside your thoughts every day, you needed him everywhere he could fit in. 

“Say it again.” He commanded firmly but still with gentleness towards you. He just wanted to hear something so filthy come out of your innocent lips again. His thumb traced a path of adoration on your cheek. His baby blues glimmered like a beacon with the lights of the elevator.

“Please, fuck me…” Another sweet whisper for his ears’ delight. He smiled in a mixture of tenderness and desire. He would not make you wait much longer, it would be torture for the two of you.

“As you wish, babe.” His voice was slightly hoarse already. He never once stopped looking at you as he unzipped his black pants and lowered them just enough. He would have wished he could undress completely. Have your soft skin bare against him so every inch of his being could memorize the feeling of you. But your circumstances were not ideal. He still held out hope for a rescue. And if the elevator doors slid open mid-fuck for a bunch of concerned ENCOM employees to see, he would at least appreciate to still be mostly clothed.

Lucky for you, the elevator was still stuck, and Ed was free to release his hard cock from the confines of his dark blue Calvin Kleins. 

He let out a hoarse sigh, and you gasped softly. You had seen penises before (your reaction to seeing his made you feel like a sheltered Victorian girl), but you had never seen one that was this close and erect for you. 

You swallowed thickly at the sight. He was not pornographically big, but ‘small’ was not a term you would use to describe it. It was a perfectly fine cock with a pink mushroom tip that would have made you smile had you not been a little nervous. You could barely tell from the confines of his underwear, but it seemed like he was well groomed down there. He did look like he took good care of himself in general. This only made you a little self conscious as you remembered that your own little bush was on display. Not that he seemed to mind. You had to remind yourself that he had just gotten back from gladly eating you out.

With an immediate drive, Ed used the remains of your wetness on his fingers to lube himself up as much as he could, just so he could give his cock a few pumps that made his eyes close for a moment and his eyebrows furrow. He was so ready for you it could drive him insane. And you, despite the nerves, could feel the neediest parts of your mind and body luring him in.

It worked. Ed crawled towards you, his body caging you in. You thanked the architects and designers of this elevator for making it wide enough for missionary. Had it not been you would have probably had to lose your virginity against the wall. Or, if Edward wanted to be nice and considerate to you, in an awkward kneeling missionary position that, you figured, would work better on a bed. Fuck his knees, he would have done it even if it hurt. But lucky for his 30-something-year-old patellae and ligaments, this elevator had space. God bless ENCOM.

“It's ok… Relax and tell me if you ever want to stop.” He whispered. Once again, his eyes focused on yours, on your face. Studying every micro-expression in search for any hesitation, discomfort or a single trace of your previous panic. He only found understandable nervousness and also a gleam of desire that made him warmer. Gone was his usual cockiness for the time being. He was going to be the gentlest man in the world for you.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding when he shifted closer towards you. A sweet gasp resonated when you felt the tip of his cock poking at your slick entrance. You nodded, and your hands reached up to feel his back. He groaned in pleasure when he started to push inside you, finding his brand new addiction.

“Fuck… You're so tight.” He uttered, completely taken by the feeling of you. His thick eyelashes fluttered and he licked his lower lip in automatic. The tip easily slided in. 

You whimpered and furrowed your brow, it was hurting much less than what you had always expected, but it was still something to get used to. 

He buried himself to the hilt, groaning and panting. The veins of his cock pumping viciously, making it twitch a little. To relax you, he took your mouth in a gentle kiss, nothing too demanding to balance out the arduous work he made your small pussy do. You moaned gently into his mouth, your hands felt him up over his vest. On your own, you put more passion into the kiss, and when your cunt throbbed around him and he was able to slide a little bit more inside you, he knew you were ready.

Carefully, he thrusted in and you moaned. He moved with you, setting up a nice and easy rhythm that was just perfect for you. It all felt so slick, so hot. He was fully lost. Pride swelling up his chest at the fact that he had just popped your cherry, trying to interfere with the gentleman he was being with you. It could be so easy to let go of his sweetness. It was not every day when he had sex with somebody as innocent as you. In fact, it was the first time he was with somebody inexperienced. But no, he was going to remain gentle. There would be other occasions for the roughness.

Soon enough, the elevator filled with your moans and his low grunts, along with the sounds of your bodies colliding. He was in heaven. Your body, your voice, your lips, your tightness. You were an obsession that was going to haunt him and his dreams for evermore. 

And you, so needy and delicious, were almost incredulous to the fact that you were living out your recurring daydream scenario. All the nights you felt desire taking over you would stroke your clit and imagine your fingers belonged to your unreachable boss. Daring to dream that this man would ever do that to you. You moaned again when his actual fingers snaked between your thrusting bodies to draw sweet circles around your clit. Reminding you that this was very much real.

“That’s good. You’re doing so good.” He praised with his voice husky, and your pussy throbbed around him. He took it as a sign, going a little faster on you. With both hips and fingers.

He groaned wholeheartedly, sending electricity through you with the circles on your clit. Your pussy clenched around him like a vice, and it was driving him absolutely insane.

“God, baby. I’m gonna fill you up so good.” He whispered absentmindedly, reason unavailable from his pleasure and the feeling of you. In his remaining thoughts, he saw a near future where you walked the ENCOM halls with his cum dripping down your inner thighs. But you, much more aware of the consequences since they would mostly affect you, snapped out of your own haze.

"Wait... Fill?" You asked. Your old friend Anxiety paying you a little visit once more.

"Oh… Are you on birth control?" Ed managed to formulate once he took notice that his fantasies couldn’t always coexist with reality. His labored breath seeped through each syllable. His hips never once stopped moving. A ticking time bomb.

"No..." You admitted. Worry clawing its way out of your arousal-clouded mind. But even then, your cunt had a life of its own. Throbbing all around him in an act of rebellion, drawing a moan out of you and a low groan out of Ed. You saw the pale blue of his iris roll back a little in between fluttering eyelashes before he fought back for control over himself.

"Fuck... Can't risk it... I'm pulling out, ok?" He struggled to talk as his slow thrusts faltered a little. All he needed now was your consent to pound you into the elevator floor and pull out before it was too late. God help him.

You nodded eagerly, holding onto his back and the fabric of his vest. Once he saw you, he went ruthless with you. 

“Shit… Shit!” He moaned, his pace grew desperately faster. It was a race to see what would come faster: a rescue, or him.

Your moans became mantras with Ed’s faster pace. Your toes started to curl inside your shoes and your nails wished they were sinking on his skin and not his clothes. That was the last coherent thought you had for the time being as his cock hit your sweet spot right in the middle. You howled, Ed got the hint. He managed to hold your hip with one hand to keep you there, trapped between the strong pumps and the waves of pleasure this sent through you.

“Ed!” You cried out, unable to handle this for much longer. He huffed in response, attacking your cunt with another series of deep thrusts that made you whine.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me.” His word was your command, it seemed. Fact is, you didn’t need much longer to be sent over the edge. Your back arched, making your clothed breasts press against his chest, to which he moaned. The last sound you heard before your scream of pleasure. 

Your wet, throbbing, creamy pussy sent the biggest, most wanted orgasm it could have ever given you, all over your nervous system. Making you milk his cock in desperation. He didn’t last a few more seconds upon feeling that all around him.

He thrusted one last, faltering time before painfully detaching himself from your addictive cunt. Quickly, he grabbed the first thing he found: your crimson panties, and clutched them around the head of his penis, whimpering when he used them to contain his spurting cum and not make a mess out of this elevator, or worse, of you. 

You watched the scene unfold. Ed opened his mouth in what it seemed like the most pleasurable yawn of his life and shut his beautiful eyes when he came. His jaw trembled for a moment and he made an attractive sound before the last drop of semen coated your panties. He panted there for a moment, holding his covered cock until he had the stamina to wipe off his tip, half-assedly fold your panties, leave them on the elevator floor and, finally, rest himself on top of you, fully satisfied.

You struggled to catch your breath with the remainder of his weight on you. You could have stayed right there, committing the post orgasmic feeling to memory so you always carried it with you. But a flicker of the elevator lights and a sudden movement dragged you out of the little death and sat you both up. For a moment you feared the worst case scenario.

“What’s-” You didn’t even formulate your question properly when the familiar movement of an elevator going up as if nothing had happened made your already racing heart jump. 

“Oh, shit… It’s working again!…” Edward deciphered with relief, pointing towards the digital numbers on the elevator screen that counted the floor numbers. In your own relief and your gratefulness your eyes grew wide when you remembered the state you were both in.

“Shit!” You whispered, gently pushing him off of you in desperation to get proper again. He got the hint immediately and stood up with the help of the elevator wall. The hand that had been inside you took yours and he lifted you back on your feet.

It all became a blur of clothes being straightened up; thigh high socks, blouse, his zipper. When you looked around for your panties, you only saw him shamelessly shoving something crimson down his pocket and looking at you with a cocky grin.

"Can't let you go out there with filthy panties, babe." Edward explained so nonchalantly he almost convinced you. But you didn't have time to disagree and protest as the elevator stopped on the floor you had initially wanted to go to, and so, before the doors slid open, you unrolled your skirt in a swift motion and prayed that nobody would notice.

"See you." The cocky bastard picked his IPad from the floor and stepped out into the hallway, fixing his glasses before turning to look back at you. It was then, with his vision clear again, he noticed something in the upper back corner of the elevator that had been there all along, too hidden for lustful eyes that only looked into each other and never around: a security camera pointing towards the middle of the metallic floor.

As promised, here is the Ed Dillinger Jr playlist. It has a LOT of Daft Punk cause I headcanon that he's a big fan. Plus some songs I think fit him lyrically or just for the vibes.

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 3 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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“I’ve got a body outside a bar on Main, and then you get attacked here.” Sheriff Hicks almost sounds accusing as she looks at Sam while speaking. “You said the call came from Amber’s number?”

Sam nods faintly, a distant look in her eyes. She’s been like this ever since she and Richie came back into Tara’s room, and even though I know I shouldn’t be, I’m worried.

Not only did she almost get killed, she’s also got something on her mind that’s upsetting her. I know because she’s got that telltale crinkle of hers in her eyebrows.

“So?” Amber pipes up next to me. She came in a couple of minutes ago with Sheriff Hicks. “We know he called on my phone before when he attacked Tara.”

True, but it’s still a little weird. Why wouldn’t he just use a burner phone to make the calls?

I glance at Tara to see what she thinks about all this, but she’s just looking back and forth between Amber and Hicks, fear and uncertainty written all over her face. First she was attacked and now Sam.

Who’s going to be next?

“Or, and I’m just spit-balling here. . . You’re the killer,” Richie says and even though I neither like, nor trust him, I have to admit, he’s got a point.

Offended, Amber crosses her arms and stares at him incredulously. She looks like she’s about to say something to defend herself, but then Sheriff Hicks beats her to it.

She turns to him and narrows her eyes. “And where were you wenn all of this happened?”

Richie falters slightly and I can see him tighten his grip around Sam’s hand which he’s been holding ever since they came in. “I was. . . watching Netflix.”

I roll my eyes and sigh. Of course he was, how convenient. . .

Seemingly reading my mind, Amber scoffs and says, “Ooh, yeah. Super solid alibi, bro.”

“So, where were you?” He fires back. Then, he looks at me with raised eyebrows. “And what about you? Hmm? You just so happened to walk around the corner right after Sam was attacked?”

I stiffen and it takes everything in me not to walk around Tara’s bed and slap him. How dare he? I would never try to hurt Sam, or Tara for that matter. I can barely even kill bugs because I feel sorry for them, so how could I possibly hurt another human being like that?

“Excuse me?” My voice is low and dangerous and the only thing that stops me from snapping is Tara who grabs a hold of my sleeve. “How would I even do that? I’m injured, and I literally just got back to the hospital.”

Richie snorts. “So you say, but you wouldn’t be the first psychotic killer to fake getting hurt to divert suspicion from yourself.”

Fury pulses through my veins, but I don’t move or speak. Tara’s grip on my sleeve tightens and much to my relief, Sheriff Hicks comes to my defense while Sam continues to stare vacantly at a spot on the opposite wall.

“It wasn’t Y/N, or Amber,” she states. “Surveillance footage shows Y/N entering the hospital during the time of the attack, and it was’t Amber because I was questioning her and her friends at the sheriff’s station.”

I give her a thankful nod and place my hand over Tara’s, silently telling her that I’m not going to lash out.

“Yeah,” Amber says, leveling Richie with a glare. “I came as soon as I heard, but, you know, the Netflix alibi is good, too.”

I must admit, Amber and I never really clicked for whatever reason, but right now, she’s my favorite person.

Sheriff Hicks lets out an exasperated sigh and hands Amber her phone back. “Okay, both of you, stop it.”

“You’re going to put more cops on her room, right?”Sam’s voice takes me by surprise.

Tara glances at her sister and then back Hicks while Amber and Richie continue glaring at each other.

“Yes.” The sheriff’s face softens. “And I can move you to a private floor. Deputy Vinson knows what he’s doing, you’ll be safe.”

That last part seems to have been the wrong thing to say because Sam bristles. “Like we’ve been so far?”

Oh dear. . .

The air in the room shifts and I bite the inside of my cheek, waiting for Sheriff Hicks’s reaction.

I know Sam can be short tempered and people usually dismiss it, but I fear this time she might have crossed a line. Sheriff Hicks is only trying to help, and Sam questioning said help isn’t doing anyone any good.

“Samantha, let’s step outside.” The tight lipped smile on the sheriff’s face makes me cringe and be thankful I’m not on the receiving end of it.

Sam clenches her jaw and looks at all of us for a moment before getting up and leaving the room with Sheriff Hicks.

Not even a minute later she returns, alone, and stands by the open door with a defeated look on her face. “Well, she remains a delight. . .”

I can’t help the way my lips twitch in slight amusement, and when Sam’s eyes meet mine, a bitter sweet smile briefly tugs at her lips.

“Are you okay?” Tara asks, putting an end to our little . . . moment?

Sam’s eyes dart to Richie, Amber, and then back to me. “Uh, actually. Would you mind giving us a second? I need to talk to Tara.”

“Of course,” I say quietly, squeezing Tara’s hand reassuringly. “I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

She smiles softly and let’s go of my sleeve, watching Amber, Richie and me file out of the room before Sam closes the door behind us.

“So, you’re a fan of the Hawks?” Deputy Vinson asks when I run into him outside the bathroom.

“What? Oh.” I look down when he points at my hockey sweater. “Yes, kind of. I’m on the team.”

“Really?” He smiles.

“Yeah, but I don’t play professionally yet because I’m currently working on getting my Masters degree,” I explain.

Vinson lets out an impressed whistle. “Nice. So, you’re planning on playing professionally once you’re done?”

I shrug. “That’s the plan, yes, but we’ll see what happens.”

He nods and smiles. “Good for you.”

“Thanks.” I smile back and point my thumb over my shoulder. “I should go. Tara might need something and I think I forgot my phone in her room.”

He nods again and ushers me to get going. I chuckle and turn to leave, feeling my smile drop a moment later when I round the corner and see Richie standing at the door to Tara’s room, clearly listening to what’s being said inside.

“Hey!”

He flinches and steps away from the door, his eyes widening when he sees me.

“What are you doing? Are you eavesdropping?” I know the question is unnecessary, because he clearly is, but I want to make him squirm.

He takes another step back and raises his hands defensively. “What? No, of course not.”

I continue walking toward him, closing the distance between us until we’re almost toe to toe. We’re the same height, so I can’t say I’m looking down when I level him with a challenging stare, yet he seems to be shrinking in on himself the longer I stare at him.

“I was just— I wasn’t,” he stutters, trying to explain himself, but then a shout from inside the room cuts him off.

“Get the fuck out!”

Tara.

A second later the door opens and Sam comes out with tears streaming down her face. She winces when she sees Richie and me and quickly wipes at her eyes while trying to suppress a sob.

What happened in there?

The look on her face and the tears in her eyes remind me of the night eleven years ago when she snuck into my room. I still don’t know why she did it back then, but I have a feeling it’s related to whatever just happened between her and Tara.

Unlike that night eleven years ago though, I don’t make a move to comfort her. Not necessarily because I don’t want to, I do and don’t at the same time, but because Richie beats me to it.

He pulls Sam into a hug and looks at me over her shoulder, daring me to continue my interrogation from before. And even though I would love to do nothing more than just that, I drop it and slip into the room.

If Sam is this upset, there’s a good chance Tara’s not doing any better either, and when I see her, sitting in her bed with her own tears streaming down her cheeks, I’m proven right.

I close the door behind me and quickly make my way to the bed, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I whisper when she moves closer and buries her face in my shoulder. “You’ll be okay.”

“No. . .” She whimpers and hugs my waist. “Sam. . . She- She—“

“You don’t have to tell me what happened.” I cut her off, but she shakes her head.

“N-No, I do. You have to know,” she says, her voice muffled by our embrace.

I raise an eyebrow even though she can’t see it and ask, “Know what?”

Tara shudders and tightens her arms around me. “Billy Loomis is Sam’s real dad.“

Five years ago

“There you go, buddy. Sleep tight.” I laugh when Liam groans and buries his face in his pillow. He called me half an hour ago to pick him up from a party because Paige is sleeping at her girlfriend’s tonight and he didn’t want to bother her.

“Thank youuu, I love you,” he slurs and I just pat him on the back.

“I love you, too, dude.“ I go to the kitchen and fill a glass of water before returning to his room and placing it on his nightstand next to some painkillers. “Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles again and then he’s out like a light.

I leave the apartment, locking the front door, and get into my car to start the short drive home.

It’s almost one in the morning, and I’m exhausted, but I’m glad Liam called me instead of driving home himself.

Yes it’s late, and yes, I’m tired, but I couldn’t have lived with myself if anything had happened to him if he’d gotten into his car, drunk, and gotten into an accident.

My parents woke up when I was on my way out, asking where I was going and when I told them, they simply told me to drive safely before going back to bed.

Now, I’m almost back home, and I can practically already feel the warm embrace of my bed again, but then I spot something that makes my heart stop.

Stumbling along the side walk with a man hot on her heels is Sam. The man keeps grabbing her arm, saying something, and she keeps brushing him off, obviously uncomfortable.

Her movements are uncoordinated and I hate the fact that I know why.

She’s high again.

Without thinking, I drive past them and pull over, stopping the car on the side walk right in front of them.

“Hey! Take a hike, dude,” I say, getting out of the car.

Sam and the man both come to a halt and stare at me. Sam barely even registers what’s going on, her glassy eyes staring right through me while the man scoffs and steps up to me.

“Mind your own business,” he growls. He seems to be in his thirties, has a buzz cut, and has a tattoo of a tiny rose on his temple.

“Sorry— No can do, pal,” I say calmly, trying not to cringe at the smell of alcohol on his breath. “She’s my friend, and you’re bothering her, so leave.”

“Or what?” he asks, smirking and revealing his chipped front tooth.

I sigh. “Or we’re going to have a problem.”

“Yeah?” He laughs and shoves me slightly. “What are you going to do, kid? Hmm? Call your parents? Or—“

My fist connects with his jaw, and a second later he’s on the ground, unconscious.

Was that a bit of an overreaction? Maybe. But did he deserve it? Definitely.

“Y/N!” Sam gapes at me. “W-What did you do?”

Even though she’s high, she doesn’t seem to have lost all of her ability to think straight. She sways on her feet and goes to crouch down next to the man, but I wrap my arms around her waist from behind and pull her back up.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” I say. She smells like alcohol, too, and I don’t even want to imagine the amount of drugs and alcohol she’s consumed tonight.

“No,” she slurs, weakly clawing at my arms. “I don’t— I don’t wanna go home. I wanna go— I wanna go with Josh.”

“Josh?” I ask. “You know that guy?”

“No— I mean, yes a little. He bought me a drink and—”

“He was trying to take advantage of you!” I argue, not letting go of her.

“No, he wasn’t!” she shouts and I cringe, hoping no one wakes up and looks out of their window because of her.

We’re in a quiet neighborhood, and I’m almost certain if someone saw us right now, they’d call the cops because they think I’m trying to kidnap her.

And I wouldn’t even blame them for it, because it definitely looks like it, but I’m really just trying to help.

This isn’t the first time I’ve taken her home after finding her high, and even though I’m used to the protest she puts up, the next thing she says catches me off guard.

“You always ruin everything, Y/N!”

I freeze and try not to let it get to my head, but her words tug at my heart painfully.

She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.

I swallow the growing lump in my throat and loosen my hold on her a little. “Come on, Sam. I don’t want to fight. Just get in the car.”

Much to my surprise, a moment later, the fight leaves her body and she wordlessly let’s me lead her to the car.

I open the passenger door and help her in, making sure to put her seatbelt on before closing the door again and rounding the front of the car to get to the driver’s side.

As I open the door, the man, Josh, starts to regain consciousness. He groans and twists on the ground, making me roll my eyes.

Pathetic.

I know he’ll be fine since I didn’t hit him that hard, so I get in the car and pull back onto the road, leaving him behind just as he’s getting back up.

“I hate you,” Sam whispers a minute later. Her voice sounds clearer than before and the venom lacing her words makes me believe she actually means it.

She’s said it before, especially the first few times I picked her up from a party, but she’s never said it like this before.

It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she’s safe.

There’s a big chance she won’t even remember saying it tomorrow morning, but I know I will.

Neither one of us says anything else while I drive until I pull up next to the curb by our houses.

Seeing Christina Carpenter’s car in Sam’s driveway, I figure it’s not the best idea to drag her up to their front door and ring the doorbell, so I take her to my house after helping her out of the car.

She’s back to being completely high, head lolling from side to side and steps totally uncoordinated, so as soon as we get inside, I pick her up and carry her up to my room.

I expected her to protest, to tell me to put her down immediately, but she doesn’t. Instead she wraps her arms around my neck and holds onto me while I carry her.

“Alright, here we go,” I whisper when we make it to my room. I’m not afraid of waking my parents because they’d understand why I brought Sam here instead of taking her home, but I don’t want them to worry, so I try to stay as quiet as possible.

It turns out, opening a door with a whole ass person in my arms is more of a challenge than I thought, but I eventually manage to get it open, stepping inside and closing it behind us again with a soft click.

“‘M tired,” Sam mumbles, her fingers curling around the fabric of my jacket.

“Yeah, I bet,” I say quietly, feeling my own exhaustion wash over me. “Just a little longer, then you can sleep.”

I gently place her on the bed and take off her shoes before pulling the comforter out from underneath her.

“Do you need anything else? Something to drink? A sweater,” I ask, but Sam doesn’t answer. She has her eyes closed and it looks like she’s already asleep. When I move to sleep on my couch on the other side of the room though, her hand shoots out and she grabs my wrist.

“Just you.”

I hesitate and try to ignore the way my skin tingles where she’s touching me.

I hate you.

The memory of her words stings and makes my heart ache, but then she opens her eyes and looks at me pleadingly.

It’s the kind of look she always uses when she wants something from me, so a moment later, I cave and slowly slip into bed next to her.

“Thank you,” she whispers and the sincerity with which she says it makes tears well up in my eyes.

First she says she hates me, then she asks me to sleep in the same bed with her.

I’m so confused and exhausted, it hurts, and I don’t know how much longer I can endure this emotional roller coaster.

She changed after that night six years ago when she snuck into my room, and at first I thought it was just a phase, but then her dad left and as time went on, she pulled away more and more, avoiding me until, eventually, she started drinking and doing drugs.

There are moments where her old self shines through, like last week, when we had a movie night with Tara and my parents, but those moments are rare and these days, they’re basically nonexistent.

“Y/N?”

I freeze, her sleepy voice bringing me back to reality.

“Yes?” I hold my breath, waiting for her to continue, but she never doesn’t. “Sam?”

I turn my head to look at her in the darkness and exhale shakily when I realize she’s asleep. I admire her soft features for a moment, taking note of how grown up she looks now that she’s turned eighteen, and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Then, I drop my hand on the mattress in the space between us and sigh.

“Good night, Sammy.”

The next morning when I wake up, I’m not surprised to find that she’s gone, just like that time when she snuck into my room.

I figure it’s probably best to give her some space, and let her deal with whatever she’s dealing with, but then, two days later, Tara calls me crying, and tells me Sam has left.

_______________________________________________

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec

[breathe-2am]

On lou's article

Disclaimer: i am on the whole not crazy about actor interviews. I think most of the time they're awkward promo, but 911 interviews in particular just kinda suck. Most of the more indie/fandom publications have an interviewer who has a preconceived narrative they push and won't ask about anything that doesn't cater to a very insular section of the audience, which means the majority of the article is an actor finding new and inventive ways of saying 'stop asking about this, i want to talk about something else'. But the more mainstream ones aren't much better- remember when oliver stark had to correct that journalist about his character's NAME? Idk what the deal is but man the interviews do not do this show any favors (to say nothing about the plotlines that are teased and then never make it onscreen tim what are you even thinking).

So there's just something very... refreshing? About lou's interview. He really focused in on tommy's character and thought process, and how he made little choices in his acting on how best to portray it. I really love tommy's face journeys, so it's awesome to have him break them down step by step. There's a real deliberate craft to his acting, and i enjoy learning about how he gets into tommy's head. Something cute i noticed is that when he's explaining tommy's thoughts and actions he often will use first person, saying stuff like i'm thinking this or i'm feeling that- to the point where he has to specify when he's talking about himself as lou. To me it's a clear testament to his work embodying a character with a complex internal world- even when the writing is weird or abrupt, he puts in the work to make it make sense.

Idk what i'm even trying to say here. I think i would enjoy actor interviews if they were more like this one. Idc abt a future plotline that probably won't happen. Idc abt a non canon ship that has been nixed over and over for years (too gently if they haven't gotten the message yet imo). Idc abt any of that tell me why u made that expression when u said that line and tell me why u said it that way. Tell me what ur thinking, what ur character is thinking. I'm spending my free time analyzing these scenes and it's really cool to learn that someone is putting in the effort to construct something that is meant to be delved into.

[oimitocat]

TSWCP — CHAPTER 1

lee minho x m!reader

chapter summary; minho shouldn’t think of you as more than his friend, but he can’t help it. unknowing that it’s vice versa, he just tries to stay as good as a friend as he has been. not aware that you feel for him too. yet, the two of you keep deceiving yourselves.

content warning; subtle internalized homophobia + subtle insecurity + tension + constant change of pov (mainly minho’s)

content genre; idol au + actor au + fluff + slight angst + 9th member! reader

word count — 6.5k | m.list | a/n; enjoy ;)

minho doesn’t like the term crush. the word feels like an impossible possibility to something more with the person you have feelings for. he won’t say it out loud but he also doesn’t deny that he has feelings. sure, he acts cold and annoying and-

“-and weird but it’s okay. we like you just the way you are,” you say with a grin.

minho rolls his eyes at you. even if he’s all of those things, he shows love in his own way. he shows he cares in his own way. everyone knows this, members and fans alike. you could say his love language is acts of service. he won’t say it of course, he’ll deny anything and everything. the main thing he’s trying to deny right now is that he has a crush on you. his delusional self says it’s not a crush, it’s an actual feeling he knows can turn into reality. his other half is telling him he’s stupid if he thinks anything will happen.

after all there are a lot of factors he takes into consideration. the main two being– how conservative his country is and the idea he has created in his head that you would never look at him the way he hopes. it’s absurd, anyone would say, it’s clear as day how the two of you look at each other. minho has seen the ship tweets on twitter and videos or their “chemistry”. yet, he doesn’t see what everyone else sees… and he doesn’t realize it’s because of his fear.

his fear is acting out on his feelings genuinely and not for fan service. despite knowing he enjoys faking it so much.

that’s something you obviously don’t know. you silently preen at him when he walks past you and bats his pretty eyes at you. the nine of you are at a show. well, you’re all wrapping up. minho is in your eyesight at all times, unknowingly. you watch as he talks with felix about what they had just done. you always take in as much as you can, during promotions it’s harder to be… intimate.

“okay,” you say to yourself, rolling your eyes at yourself for the impure thought you had for a split second.

that definitely wasn’t the word but you also think it fits best. there’s just something more personal of being with minho alone in the comfort of your dorms. not just with minho, with everyone. you care for everyone the same. you watch out for everyone the same, it’s a dynamic you love. you know your fans love that side of you too; that caring and loving side you show towards the members. especially towards minho, the fans go crazy when you two are a little touchy & lovey.

at some point, the fan service wasn’t just fan service for you. you actually meant what you did.

there are things you take pride in. you take pride in your career, your honed skills- both in dancing and acting. you’re proud of your education accomplishments. you have reasons to be confident and you have a way of handling things that many point out and praise you for. still, you remain humble and only flex when needed.

hence, those are things that minho loves about you.

“s/n-ssi,” the host calls out, “could you record a video for us talking about your experience in the show?”

minho watches how you pause. he finds it adorable how your eyes widen.

“by myself?” you ask, cautious.

“you could invite one more member.”

he looks away the second your eyes fall on him. he plays dumb, like he’s already in his own business. yet, extremely aware of how you walk up to him. he braces himself for the question, yet, it doesn’t come. instead, you grab his hand and start to drag him. he should’ve known.

“y/n,” he groans.

you laugh, the sound bouncing around his head at how beautiful it is. he loves your laugh. “come on lee know,” he teases, “we gotta do our job.”

“it’s very quick,” the host says when the two of you join him with the camera man.

minho forces a smile. it indeed is a very quick recording. he doesn’t talk at all, simply listens to you and nods. the whole time it’s just you talking, but you’re hyper aware of minho next to you. the second, however, he looks at you, you stutter.

“-and i- no we- have not i mean, will- lee know why are you looking at me like that,” you accuse.

minho blinks, ears going red when he’s caught staring. he had hoped it wasn’t too obvious, he only tried to glance at you. guess he just couldn’t keep his eyes away from you even if he tried.

the host simply laughs and urges you to continue. minho, teasingly, keeps staring at you. you look at the ceiling as you keep talking, wrapping it up quick.

“ah, s/n-ssi it’s almost like you were rapping at the end there,” the host laughs.

“well you did say wrap it up, get it?”

minho makes a face of disgust. “please don’t,” he utters while the camera man and the host laugh at your witty humor.

later, when the episode airs, minho can’t help but watch the final part when you and him were “interviewed”. he obviously didn’t say much, he doesn’t focus on anything except you. how you smile as you talk, how you cracked up the ugliest joke known to humankind.

“-but it’s okay, we like you just the way you are,” he says at the end of the video and the editors have the joy to cue back at what y/n had said about him in the show.

he gives the video a like and goes to sleep.

the thing about promotions is that there is little time to yourself. it’s where you have the most cameras on you. it’s where you have the least sleep. that doesn’t really stop any of you from being any different, your group is known for being the way you are on cameras as you are off cameras.

you really dislikes the lack of sleep though. it’s a known fact it makes you grumpy. you already have a rbf, so the sleep fatigue makes it worse.

“you got pain killers?”

minho looks at you before shaking his head. you groan, closing your eyes and slumping into your seat. the van is full of four members aside from yourself. jisung is sleeping in the middle row seats, you really envy him.

“you can lean on me if you want to fall asleep,” he offers, his heart racing.

“no cus then you’ll fall asleep and blame me for making it an uncomfortable nap.”

minho laughs, absolutely enamored with how truthful that was. “yeah but you had less sleep than me, didn’t you go recite the script they sent in for the drama they casted you for?”

you hum, eyes closed. “yeah, it’s not that bad though. my lines are a mix of english and korean, super helpful.”

“oh wow,” he watches you, enjoying how exposed your neck is since you have it tilted back into the seat’s headrest. “fans will go crazy.”

you snort, “they go crazy regardless.”

that’s true.

he goes crazy too.

he falls silent, looking forward and listening to the sound of your breathing. you ended up humming softly, something you do when you’re trying to stay awake. he messes with the bag on his lap. he truly worries for you, shooting a drama takes out so much from you. he remembers how exhausted you were last time despite only appearing in the drama for 5 episodes and not the whole season.

“have they told you how long shooting will take?”

you sigh, never once opening your eyes. you cross your arms over your chest, “about six months.” minho’s brows shoot up, “minimum.”

“oh damn,” he watches as you swallow, not concealing how attentive he is to your adam’s apple. “when do you start?”

“next month, but they won’t air any of the trailers until… what month are we in?”

“august,” he says.

“like around march?”

“we have a comeback around that time…” minho frowns, “is the company going to make you sit back?”

“like hell i will, even if they offer it, i’m not stopping my activities with the group over a drama, i can handle it.”

minho says nothing, knowing that when you decide on something no one can change your mind. there’s a reason fans compare you to chan, feared by jyp due to the potential and privileges you two have. exceptional workers. minho loves seeing that stubborn side of you. it’s amusing during games, it’s hot during tense conversations with management and it’s enamoring when you talk to him about your plans.

only he knows even the most intimate details of you. your past and what you dream for your future.

he knows you can handle it… but only to an extent. you’re dear to him, anyone with eyes can see it. even when the members speak about who minho has a soft spot for- you are among the short list.

it’s a mutual thing, recognizable for the eye to see… just not for the two of you.

anyone else sees it.

they see how you look at minho as if he hangs the stars. they see how he looks at you with soft eyes, like you hold the world.

“we start working on recordings tomorrow,” he comments.

“i know.”

minho opens his bag and and pulls out a water bottle. he uncaps it and hands it to you, nudging your elbow with it. you open your eyes, raise your head and look at him questioningly. he eyes you, nudging you once more with the bottle. it’s a silent order, so you take it. your eyes follow down to his hands as he pulls out-

“YOU DID HAVE PILLS!”

“y/n~! shut up!” jisung groans.

you take pride in many things. minho knows what they are.

“one - two - three, four, five - six a~nd seven,” minho recites rhythmically as he watches you through the mirror.

you started shooting the drama last week and you’re behind. the company enforces the group to practice the b side that will be promoted, for those are the ones 3RACHA decide first, the title track always being hard to choose.

you’re one of the main dancers. minho loves seeing you pour everything you have into your dance. the way your limbs move with both grace and power is something he enjoys watching.

he claps his hands and turns to you, “want to do it with music?”

you grimace but nod. doing it with music isn’t the same as practicing it without it. you have to learn how to synchronize the beats of your steps to the music. you learned that confidence is key, nine out of ten times , if you do things with confidence, you are bound to do it right. so you color no one surprised when you get it right. minho smiles at you, patting your arm in praise.

“good! now the chorus,” minho laughs.

you smile, watching him wipe the sweat off his forehead. he has no makeup on and you find that minho without makeup is the prettiest. you get to see his natural flush, he radiates something more when he’s without makeup. something beautiful.

“what?” he asks when he sees you haven’t moved.

“huh?” you blink, looking away.

he doesn’t say anything. he stares at you before bring the back of his hand to his cheek. they’re warm. ugh, he hates how visible his flusteredness gets when he’s without makeup. he shouldn’t overthink things either. you probably were staring at him because of how sweaty he is, nothing more. you have too many things in your mind, you have better things to think about. at the end of the day, he knows you would never look at him the way he wants.

“need a break?” you ask and he snaps out of it.

“eh? hey, i should be asking you that!” he gently shoves you.

you snort, “i’m the most talented person on this earth. i can handle anything.”

minho narrows his eyes and says nothing. the playfulness leaves as he takes in your tired eyes.

“how’s the drama coming along?” he asks softly as he sits on the floor.

you copy him, shrugging. “it’s going. the first few shots are the hardest in my opinion, because you have to make the most impact in the first two episodes. the directors are a little harsh on the female actors… i kinda don’t like that but i can’t do much about that..”

minho frowns, “have they upset you? the directors?”

“nah, i mean i am still new to the whole main lead thing, so i do need a little help here and there but other than that all good.” you smile.

minho nods, understanding. he stares at you, catching a glimpse of something in your eyes. he knows it too well. he can’t even get away before you tackle him.

“yah!” he yells, underneath your weight, “y/n!”

“ye~s?” you laugh, caging him under your arms.

“get off!” he demands, trying to push you off.

another thing about you is that you have a sleeper’s build. you don’t seem very strong but you are. certain clothes grant people to see that you are actually built, while others hide what your physique is. no one truly knows your strength until you show it. like now, minho himself is pretty strong but you always beat him.

“hm, how about no.”

“yah!”

“ah, you’re getting red!”

“i am not!”

you laugh before levitating yourself a bit, letting him breathe. he looks so pretty, now that you fully look down. with his hair fanned across the floor, his face a little red, his chest rising as he catches his breath. gorgeous.

then you lower yourself once more. he grunts.

“do not do push ups on top of me! you’re heavy!”

“how rude,” you pout as you lower yourself down again.

you’re so, so close! he swallows and lets out a soft, shuddered breath as you grin down at him. why do you have to be so good looking? he can’t even keep fighting you, he feels so weak underneath you. he closes his eyes when your face is inches away from his. he turns his head to the side, grunting when you put all your weight on him again.

he knows you’re messing with him, but his dirty mind can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have you on top of him. in a very different way, to have you lean down on him.

“are you guys practicing?” felix asks as he comes in, smiling brightly.

hyunjin comes after, looking directly at the two of you. “yah! what are you doing?”

“was just messing around,” you say with a wide smile as you roll off of minho.

minho says nothing, swallowing down the whimper he had wanted to let out when you got off of him. why does he like you so much? you’re the worst. for what, minho? for not liking you back? he thinks annoyingly.

felix tackles y/n to the ground. hyunjin sits down. minho hates how annoyed he is that they came in. it was supposed to just be you and him all night practicing. he wanted to be the main one to teach you the choreographies. he wanted to bask in your presence for as long as he could tonight before not seeing you all day tomorrow.

“how’s the drama coming? do you have any clips?” hyunjin asks, excited.

you cradle felix in your lap and peer over his shoulder. “i have one from today,” you point at your bag, “my phone’s in there, can you hand it to me?”

hyunjin scrambles to do so. he’s a big drama fanatic and knowing you’ll be acting in one as the main lead, he’s extremely excited. he won’t stop talking about it nonstop if anyone gives him the opportunity to do so. when you pull up the recording, he peers over hyunjin’s shoulder. minho would say he’s your number one fan- well, he won’t say it out loud but he is.

seeing you with your prop outfit does things to his heart. your hairstyle is clean, not exactly slicked back but something that compliments your face so much and exposes more of it. you look handsome, more so when you yell out a line, the other actors displaying fear from your outburst. the camera expands out to the room and a woman is sitting across the table from where you are at the end.

with a gasp, hyunjin asks, “WHO’S THAT?”

minho looks at you from under his lashes, wondering the same thing.

“that’s the female lead,” you pause, “you want her korean name or her english name?”

minho’s brows twitch from a furrow to neutral at the question.

“why do you know both?” felix snorts.

“everyone knows ours,” you argue.

“fair.”

“whichever,” hyunjin awaits.

“lee gayoung,” you say casually, “i’m pretty sure she’s done second female lead for two dramas before this.”

“what’s the plot about again?” hyunjin asks

“it’s kinda based on ancient mythology but the leads shift from modern times to ancient times. i’m not going to say much, the posters are about to come out,” you chuckle.

minho stares back at your phone as hyunjin hits play for the video to continue. the panel zooms in to the female lead, showing her dead serious expression.

“she’s so pretty,” hyunjin breathes out. “damn, some good actors were casted!”

“of course, i’m one of them,” you huff and tilt your chin up.

minho stares at the actress before the director yells out ‘cut!’ and whoever is holding the phone screams and moves the phone away from the screen where they were recording the shot. it panels to y/n walking away with a shy smile as staff members cheer.

“who was recording?” minho finds himself asking.

“huh? oh, some staff member,” you shrug.

there’s a bitter sensation in minho’s throat. he knows how popular you are with the ladies. you’re too friendly towards them without even meaning to. regardless of gender, he sees how others look at you— during award shows, music shows, interviews, wherever. you turn heads without knowing.

“we should keep practicing,” he says, catching your attention as well as hyunjin and felix’s.

“yeah we should,” you sigh, shoving felix off of you playfully.

yet, you couldn’t help but notice how only felix and hyunjin were teaching you more than minho. as if minho had distanced himself.

it’s probably just your tired mind making that up though,,,right?

on the odd times you have off, minho makes the most of it. his schedule isn’t as busy as yours, hence, it’s not hard for him to move some things around when you announce that you have an evening off. he quickly tells you to be ready to help him in the kitchen.

“cake?” you complain, “i’m feeling cheese danishes.”

minho scoops up a bit of cake frosting with his finger from the bowl and inspects it. “then make them. you’re the l/n y/n, you know how to do anything.” he smears it on your cheek. “don’t ya?”

“hey!” you immediately take a full hand of frosting and smear it all over his face.

he gasps and screams. his hands fly to grab your wrist and tug on it to get away from his face.

“i have to buy an ingredient, want to come with me?”

he glares at you as once he successfully wipes off the frosting from his eyes. “no.”

“what?” you gasp, “why not?”

“HELLO? YOU SMEARED A HANDFUL OF FROSTING IN MY FACE.”

“wash it off,” you huff. you stare at him as he furiously wipes his face with a towel. “or let me wash it for you.”

minho pauses, he turns to you before narrowing his eyes. “okay.”

“i knew you couldn’t resist me-“

“FORGET IT!”

you laugh as you tussle him to the kitchen sink. he’s strangely pliant as you gently bend him forward and run the faucet. he grumbles as you furiously wash his face, playful and annoying him. yet, you actually took your time and went gentle after a few seconds. wiping away at every crevice on his face, watching how his features don’t soften in case you try to pull something.

just as you close the faucet, you cup his face and squish it. he glares at you before pulling away and saying he’ll go in his current clothes while hanging up the apron.

“hai,” you announce as you pick up your wallet and keys.

the nearest grocery store isn’t far, maybe ten minutes by foot. minho enjoys these small moments, especially when he knows a busy schedule is coming up. the two of you had always had a strong bond, almost the way he has one with jisung. except you’re just a lot more special to him.

“what did we not have that you’re getting?” he asks as he looks over at you.

you look amazing under the lights. it’s slightly dark already, he loved seeing you in good lighting when you’re in nothing but a black top and grey sweats. his favorite look on you, call him basic, he’s a sucker for you in almost anything anyway.

“just the dough. we have cream cheese and vanilla and everything else, just not the dough. i’m just buying one that’s ready to be in the oven.”

“hm? why not from scratch?”

“you think i want to do all that?” you ask like you’re offended.

minho pauses, staring at you as the two of you keep walking. he knows you mean well, yet it starts to dawn on him that you’re tired. you’re stressing with all the responsibilities and obligations you have on your shoulders. it’s been a week or two since you’ve actually even had an evening off. it’s almost the end of february, the weather is still chilly and he finds himself walking closer to you for warmth.

“you could’ve rested tonight,” he says softly, staring at the pavement as the two of you walk.

you sigh, “if i didn’t spend time with your or any of the members i would’ve been memorizing more of my script.”

minho’s heart sinks. you want an escape. yet, the thought of that warms him up at the same time.

“sorry… i do appreciate you spending your time with me,” he says, remembering your laugh from earlier when you smeared frosting on his face.

you pause, looking over at him. “is the lee minho saying something nice?”

“you know what-“ and minho turns around to walk the way the two of had came from.

“wha- hey!” you laugh and grab his arm, trying to pull him back but due to the lack of strength into it, he drags you instead.

minho knows you know he’s playing, still he would’ve liked it if you put in your strength and-

you yank him back and spin him around. he stumbles and falls into your chest. unsure of how he ended up in this position, he freezes. you wrap your arms around him, engulfing his slightly smaller frame into your body. for a moment, minho forgot how chilly it is.

“i’m fine, minho.” you say softly, “don’t worry about me, okay? let’s just do what we always do…”

minho swallows, the worry he’s been hiding coming to the surface. “okay.” he says in defeat, realizing he would’ve argued for you to get more rest and take care of yourself.

but he knows you. you don’t really like having people worry over you… it’s some sort of mental thing you have. you care for him because he understands you.

without another comment, the two of you go to the grocery and get what you need. you also spoil him. he knows you’ll never say no to him either. most of the time that he asks for anything is just to mess with you.

“can i get that?” and it would be a weird drink with a flavor you’ve never seen or heard.

“that?” and it’d be a random fruit.

“that too?” and it’d be a bag of your favorite chips.

“oh, i want that too.” and it’d be something he doesn’t need, like a pretty plate.

“we should get that.” and he finally just holds up two push pops.

at the end of the day he’s preening at how you always spend on him on stuff as useless as a plant that no one would have time to take care of. it happened before and you playfully held a grudge about it. to the fans it’s a funny grudge you still hold but the members know you’re playing about it.

“blegh, that’s disgusting,” you grimace as you spit out what you just tasted.

minho laughs evilly, enjoying your expression after tasting the drink he had chosen. this time you two are taking a different route back to the dorms. it’s safer to never go the same path twice in one day in case of sasaengs.

“i think it’s okay,” he lies, taking another sip.

“liar,” you huff.

he shrugs, chugging it down and throwing it in the nearest trash can. there’s a bus stop coming up, he notices your face on a poster. without a comment, he jogs up to it, coming face to face with it. you catch up, finding your spot next to him. you stare at the poster, not really caring for it but wondering what has minho so intrigued.

“you kissed her already?” he asks, soft and almost… actually you can’t make out that tone.

before him, is a large poster of you and gayoung, you’re holding her face, extremely close to your own. lips almost touching, actually he thinks they are touching, he just doesn’t want to believe it. he knows you’re bound to kiss at some point but.. already? her hands are comfortably on your chest and her eyes look up at you with the most enamored eyes ever.

“yeah, they wanted something raw for the posters, so we… kinda made out before almost pulling away and that’s how they got that shot.”

minho nods, “looks like you liked it too.” he says, mustering as much of a playful tease as he can.

you seemed to have believed it, “awe hell nah, i’m just doing what i’m getting paid for. oh! i think hyunjin is really going to love the poster designs though, cus see how under us kissing is a blended out scope of water with a boat and cherry trees? the scenery is beautiful for this drama, i think you guys would enjoy that more.”

he simply nods, eyeing gayoung’s enamored expression one more time before looking at your face on the poster. where she looks lovestruck and soft, your eyes seem like they’re burning with protection and desire. as if she was yours.

“yeah,” he says, looking away. “i’m sure we will..”

and no, he’s not jealous. that’s…. he swallows and clutches the push pop in his hand, that’s not what it is.

things are strange.

maybe you wouldn’t have noticed if seungmin didn’t point it out. the nine of you were recording an ep of family skz. you were the single uncle and the gag was that you and jisung liked lina.

“doesn’t minho look like gayoung with that wig?” you joke to hyunjin while on a small break from shooting.

“watch it, he’ll probably not talk to you for sure if he heard that,” seungmin says from behind.

“huh?” you turn to seungmin, unsure of why he sounded dead serious.

hyunjin snorts, “mm, for real. he’s already distant with you.”

“eh?” you turn to hyunjin now.

what are they on about?

“ever since the first trailer came out, he’s been ignoring you. said something about you being too busy to talk.”

that’s weird, just yesterday minho left an energy drink (your favorite one too) on your nightstand when you woke up to start your day. it’s strange, he indeed has not talked to you but he interacts with you in a different, silent way.

when recording starts back up, you try to interact with lina’s character but she (read:he) blatantly ignores you. at some point you complain to seungmin.

“yah, your wife isn’t being very respectful, she won’t answer me.”

“and why should i talk to anyone other than my husband?” lina sneers, leaning near seungmin.

seungmin blinks, “my wife is a free spirit.”

everyone laughs. later, as you’re all playing some sort of game of hide and seek (technically it’s two people blindfolded and everyone avoids getting hit with a wooden spoon). seungmin and hyunjin are the ones being blindfolded, you quickly jump over the couch to make it to the other side when hyunjin swings towards you. minho, who was running from seungmin bumps into you.

“oops-“ minho goes but slaps a hand over his mouth when seungmin spins around at the sound.

he pushes you further, so that you two could avoid getting caught. you look down at his pretty face as he pushes you to the wall and the two of you stand in the corner. he looks up at you and you can’t help but smile.

he narrows his eyes at you before looking away. you just keep staring at him.

the shooting continues and at the end the timer goes out and only hyunjin couldn’t catch anyone. seungmin caught two people, jeongin and you. you because lina had the nerve to make a sound and push you towards seungmin. you couldn’t really be upset, because the way he batted his pretty lashes at you as he basically handed you over to seungmin is something you engraved into your brain.

after the shooting you had to quickly change out of your prop clothes and pack up your things to go to the drama shooting site. it’s around noon already, minho watches you from afar as you rush to get your things while your manager fills in the other manager about the day’s schedule.

and that’s how you’ve lived the past week and a half. here and there. from one site to another. from one van to another. barely eating and resting. although you eat good portions when you do get the chance to eat. you needed to maintain your body after all.

he watches how everyone bids you farewell. he wants to as well, but the guilt of liking you more than as a friend makes him stop in his tracks. he settles to grab his pack and pack up his bag and any other things he had taken out. he makes sure his charger is there, his water bottle-

he freezes when an arm wraps around him and a body presses against his side.

“bye, min,” you say softly, “see you tomorrow at practice.”

he looks over at you, eyes slightly wide. now, up close after days of seeing you from a distance. “bye.. will you make it on time to practice?”

you think as you let him go, “i think so, i hope so.” you smile at him.

his heart churns, you still do your best to look lively despite how tired you are.

“okay, see you tomorrow,” he says.

and you go on to your next schedule.

he doesn’t get to see you at practice. the choreographer isn’t very happy about it, everyone's a little tense from his bitter mood. he even goes as far as rechecking with the manager if you’ll be performing the promotions with them. minho can’t help but imagine the pressure you have.

after about four hours of practice, you barge in. your manager trailing behind and giving both the groups manager and choreographer a rundown of the tardiness.

“i know you have things to do but when you’re in the practice room please do everything you can to do what you’re in here for,” the choreographer says gently, but everyone knows it’s passive aggressive.

you don’t look happy either, minho knows you. so after two hours of straight practice, you’re all finally given a break. you indeed did catch up, minho admires how determined you are. there’s just so many things he loves and appreciates about you.

“did recording not go well?” he asks softly as he sits next to you on the floor.

everyone is spread about, either laying on the floor or sitting.

your eyes are narrow, a sign that you’re in a bitter mood. “yeah, the other main cast kept messing up and we had to redo so many shots. me and gayoung got behind because of them, like-“

and you rant, your frustration evident. you’re tired, hungry, annoyed- of course you’re not happy. plus the choreographer’s bitter mood, you’re just not catching a break at all.

minho really can’t stay away from you. as much as he feels the conviction to keep distance due to these burning emotions, he just can’t.

“what was the scene you had to redo?”

“it’s too many of them, but the main one was where me and gayoung had to-“

“okay time’s up!” the choreographer yells out as he comes back.

“i’ll tell you later,” you say exhaustedly while getting up.

you don’t get to tell minho later. the choreographer makes you stay back two more hours to practice without the others. minho was reluctant, trying to talk to the choreographer to stay back with felix to help out but he was shut down. you reassured him that you’ll be fine.

you always are.

when you finally go back to the dorms, you’re on the verge of passing out. you like hygiene, but tonight you had no strength left in you. you don’t brush your teeth, you don’t shower. you just plop down on your bed after setting your alarm. sleep consumes you immediately, the discomfort of your skin sticky from sweat gone in an instant.

your alarm rings five hours later, your eyelids are heavy. you groan, whining into your pillow before forcefully pushing yourself off your bed. it’s 4 in the morning. you have to leave for the site at 5:30.

you rush around, grabbing your clothes before hopping into the shower. finally, you wash off last nights sweat, you brush your teeth and wash your face harshly to wake up. cold water wakes you up, but also makes you get so sleepy after you get out. still, you have a long day ahead of you.

it’s 5:20 when you finally get out your room. your backpack is bouncing off your back as you rush out to the kitchen. you stocked up in energy drinks two days ago-

“ah, minho,” you say, startled to see him at the fridge.

he perks up and closes the fridge. “i made you food… you should eat something before leaving-“

“the van will be here in,” you glance down at your watch, “8 minutes.”

“then take it and finish it in the van,” he argues, walking to the table and handing you the bowl of rice and sausage-

you stare at the plate before looking at him. “you made… octopus sausage?”

he shrugs, ignoring that you were implying how cute the act is. he could have just fried the sausage as it is but he went out of the way to make them look cute.

you smile, exhausted but touched by the action. “thanks min… i’ll see you.”

“you’re okay though?” he asks.

“huh?” you look at him confused as you shove an octopus sausage in your mouth.

while you chew, he explains, ignoring how cute you look with your mouth stuffed. “the first episode is airing today, meaning your on the final episodes of the season… you’ve been more at the site and practice room and studio than here…”

you stand up straight, looking away. “yeah i’m good… after recording is over i’ll be fully focused on our comeback…”

“y/n, you have like what, five episodes left? by the time we have our comeback you’ll still have two left… how are you fitting that?”

“i got it! i promise,” you assure before your phone rings. “ah, shit i gotta go- bye! thanks for the food!”

he sighs and watches you dash out.

weeks pass by, he sees you during the showcases. he sees how you rarely engage with anyone during behind the scenes. all he sees is a hollow shell acting in every part of life. you practiced until late at night. you're in a whole separate van. you have no life for a solid month. the exhaustion is so evident in you, everyone is worried. minho especially.

the drama is a hit. he knows so, hyunjin won’t shut up about it.

“yah, i know you like it but i think y/n is tired of hearing it,” he says annoyed.

hyunjin stops talking. he becomes guilty when you look over at minho and him from the chair where the stylist is getting you ready.

“it’s fine, min, i know the drama is good, i’m in it after all.” you joke.

minho stares at you. you’re so…. ugh he hates that he likes you. he just wants to hug you and cherish you and help you find rest in him. even when you’re in such a state you muster up jokes.

everyone sees those qualities of yours.

whenever he walks down the halls of the showcase buildings, idols and staff alike chat about you. if not you, then the drama. if not the drama, then the comeback.

he’s standing before a vending machine, waiting for the energy drink to drop, when he hears a giggle from beside.

“yah… s/n-sunbaenim looks very close with gayoung-ssi. i heard they have feelings for each other.”

“stop! i wouldn’t be surprised! at the press conference they looked so enchanted with each other!”

“plus they sat together! she wouldn’t stop accidentally touching his hand!”

the two girls squeal with excitement at the thought. minho’s brain goes blank just as the drink drops into the deposit.

“here,” he says with a brute tone as he hands you the energy drink.

“huh? oh, thanks you didn’t have to…” you trail off as he walks away.

that’s… strange. you stare at his figure before looking down at the can. minho felt different just now, but you quickly discard the worry.

minho wastes no time to check blogs when he’s in the van that takes them to the dorms. he’s tired but his curiosity is burning. indeed, after minutes of searching and looking, he finds pictures and videos that only fuel the rumor further. gayoung looks beautiful next to you. a clip of you taking out a peck of lint from her hair before a photoshoot that was done before the press conference. the way you smiled at her cheekily when she’d brush her fingers against yours when she’d go for the mic you two shared.

the way she’d chat with you and make you laugh.

when was the last time he had made you laugh?

your dynamic with her seems so much as what yours is- was with him.

and minho is reminded once more, how much potential you and gayoung have together.

🏷️ TAG LIST — @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @gnusihcom

©OIMITOCAT

©VICTORBUTNOTREALLY

[quartz-oc]

》 Cynthia ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩

"Man, that girl is creepy!"

"Yeah and she looks and moves weird too.. Almost like some puppet."

"She's a little too pretty to be a puppet. More like.. Some doll.."

"Do you think she has ball joints like a doll?"

"No idea.."

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Name: Cynthia (Real name: ████████)

Age: 16

Birthday: February 29

Class: 1-A

Club: Sewing and Stitching Club

Height: 174 cm (5'8)

Hobby: Sewing

Homeland: ████

Likes: Pretty things

Dislikes: Things that ruin pretty things

╭┈ • ┈ ୨୧ ┈ • ┈╮

Introduction

Cynthia is an average girl. She loves frills and clothes like an average girl. She loves to dress up and do make up like an average girl. She loves to make friends and hang out like an average girl.

Except she's not.

She doesn't act like an average girl. What is that stiff movement? She doesn't even talk like an average girl. Where is her voice?! I haven't even heard her talk at all! Does she even have a voice? She stares too much. Where is the light in her eyes? She's... well.. a little creepy.

After being sent to NRC from a different world, she's been the talk of the whole school about if she's even a real person.

Did the Headmaster let in a possessed doll? Does she have a condition? Her moves are so robotic. Is she a robot?

Well, the thing is... We don't know! She doesn't say anything! She doesn't even care! Wow!

Personality

Despite her appearance, she tries her best to be kind and generous to the people she wants to be friends with. She's always giving gifts to her hands with things she finds pretty or hand-sewn clothing. Don't ask how she knows their sizes.

She also does not speak so she uses a lot of gestures and hand movements. It is unknown that she has a voice or not.

She doesn't really mind that people spread rumors about her. She kind of uses it to her advantage, making everyone run away if she doesn't like them.

She's very particular about touch. Skin to skin contact absolutely disgusts her and even initiating the touch makes her skin crawl. She only allows touch if she initiates first when she has gloves on.

She treats a lot of her friends or people she likes like delicate glass dolls; like they can break anytime under the slightest of pressure. And I don't mean figuratively. It's literally. Her hugs and small tugs on the sleeve are very gentle and light.

Cynthia also dislikes showing skin so she dresses modestly but fashionably. Because of this, people believe she's hiding her "doll joints" under pretty clothes.

She really adores cute and pretty things. Frilly dresses, cute cat charms, pretty hairstyles, people she likes, small animals, and etc. If anything of those are ruined, she gets scary.

People who ruin pretty things are ugly and should just d̷i̷e̷. That's what she believes. It's honestly such a harsh statement but that's how she thinks. Although, don't worry, she's not that sensitive. Her being that mad only happens to a few people and she understands certain situations.

When she's really mad, she can act very impulsive and her actions get a little creepy at times. Like if you bullied someone she liked, she would follow you home. Oh? You have a stray cat that you take care of when you're on your way to school but you're an actual shitty person? That cat isn't there anymore.

(Don't worry. She gave it to someone who can take care of it. She's not that evil 😭😭 Her goal is to only scare you.)

She doesn't really think of consequences when she's feeling something intense which can lead her into horrible situations.

Small Trivia

• Cynthia hates P.E. because she has to get all sweaty and touch people

• Her favorite color is pink despite herself wearing mainly blue

• Many of the first years had to get used to her staring problem because sometimes she's not seen blinking

• Crowley knows she's from a different world but she won't say which because she literally can't

• She sews Grim so many outfits and he thinks he looks cool in them

• She spoils Grim a lot because he reminds her of something familiar but it's a far memory

• Crewel is impressed by Cynthia's sewing and wishes to teach her more but she always ends up wanting to do her own thing

╰┈ • ┈ ୨୧ ┈ • ┈╯

"I don't even have a voice box! I had to borrow this one.."