#thnks for the request! <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[bloody-cupcakes]

would you do the different breakfast club members with a clingy/overprotective yandere s/o who kind of acts like their parent? thank you ^-^

They each desperately need some kind of a good parental figure in their lives, even if it's from a s/o with yandere qualities lol

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, the reader acts more like a parental figure than a partner in some cases, overprotective/clingy behavior displayed by the reader

Claire Standish

She acts like the typical bratty rich girl who's used to getting what she wants. What do you mean she can't go to that party? Who are you to tell her who she can and can't hang out with?

She typically "rebels" against you by doing the exact opposite of what you said, until she realizes that, surprise surprise, you were right all along. Not that she'd ever admit it, of course

On the surface she acts really annoyed by how overprotective and clingy you are, but secretly she loves having someone who actually cares about her wellbeing and isn't just trying to get back at someone when you tell her not to do something

Andrew Clark

He's pretty used to people telling him what to do, meaning he's not very good at thinking for himself. Imagine his surprise when you encourage him to start making his own decisions

Of course you have your own opinion on what he should or shouldn't do, but why should that matter? He's his own person, which you slowly help him realize over time

He doesn't really need someone to constantly look out for him (hello, he's an athlete, he can beat someone up if he really needs to) but he definitely appreciates having someone to remind him that wrestling isn't everything

Brian Johnson

He so desperately needs someone who cares about him for more than just his grades, the poor baby. Even if you just offer to help him with his homework he'll be eternally grateful

Honestly, he trusts you so much. You could tell him to take the day off and not worry about school and he actually will because he knows you'll end up getting his work done for him

He finds how much you watch over him to be very endearing because unlike his parents you actually care about him and not just his grades. He barely even notices how attached you are because he's just as bad

John Bender

I love him but he's one you'll have to drag kicking and screaming if you want to properly care for him because newsflash, he doesn't need anybody and can look out for himself

He gets so pouty whenever you lay down ground rules on things (how often he gets detention, when he needs to eat, etc.) and will flat out refuse to listen to you unless you start to ignore him

You're eventually able to wear down his rough exterior and get to his soft inside because deep down he wants to be cared for the way you do for him, even if he acts like a brat for it most of the time

Allison Reynolds

She's so sweet, you could tell her to set her house on fire and she probably would if you promised to give her attention (please don't actually tell her that though because she will do it)

As long as you spend time with her she's pretty content to listen to you. Occasionally she "acts out" or whatever but it's more to push your buttons than it is to actually misbehave

Her clinginess rivals even yours as she has to be around you pretty much all the time or she'll get upset. Even if you have to get groceries or run errands she'll gladly tag along just so she can be near you

[leixo-demo]

hiii !!! i hope you're not too flooded with requests rn in that case feel free to ignore this dw !! i just can't get your artstyle out of my brain i love it so much... so i would love it if you could draw something (anything!!!) involving ichiya and mizole !!! they're my favorites rn

hiiiiiii, im really happy u like my stuff, i got a few comments saying they like my coloring or style ;v; n i cant be enough thankful for those,,, HERE'S YOUR ICHIYA AND MIZOLE ART!!

hope u enjoy them :DD

[fluttershywheresheshouldntbe]

In a Where's Waldo scene.

Time yourself finding her and leave your time in the tags!!

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Hello! how are you? im here again heheh well, i recently had a thought✨ i've seen so many post about Mickey and Smiley being the "worst boyfriend(s)", but on those post i haven't seen a Reader who ends the relationship in a "Mature way". Like: "I know we both are young, but i can't be with someone who is not serious in a relatioship. You're not romantic, nor make details for the two of us, not even hang out with me, you prefer to hang out with you gang friends... I guess you're not ready for a relationshi, it doesn't matter what i do, you don colaborate with me" and then, break up :) how would the react to that situation? would they be mad? they'll change? or regret all the things they did? (you could add any other character you want beside mickey and Smiley) Thnks you so much <3 and sorry for my lowprice enlish

How They React When You Break Up With Them For Being Immature

Characters: Mikey, Nahoya, Takemichi

♡ SFW, angst, gn reader, break ups, crying, cursing, possessiveness ♡

note: thanks for requesting 💗 I haven't written anything that wasn't school related in a while and college is kicking my brain's ass, so excuse me if I'm a little rusty lol

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Mikey

💙 Unbothered at first because he thinks you're overreacting

💙 Goes to Draken for advice and freaks out when he realizes that he's been essentially ignoring your existence

"Why didn't you tell me sooner Ken-Chin?!"

"Why should I have to tell you what you're doing, dumbass!"

💙 He tries to make up for it by being more present and carving out time for you (he shows up at your house in the wee hours of the morning until you let him in and forgive him)

Nahoya

🧡 Break up? That's not in his vocabulary babes

"Fuck you mean break up? You stuck with me." 😁

🧡 He's not letting you out of his life, so he'll get his shit together real quick

🧡 Pretends you never tried to break up with him, in his mind it never happened and he'll get embarrassed if you mention it in front of other people

Takemichi

☘️ In fucking tears, literally on the ground begging for forgiveness

"Y/n please, I'm so so so sorry baby. Don't leave, I'll change, I'll leave the gang if that's what you want!"

☘️ Obviously that's not what you want, you just want some time alone with him and you let him know that

☘️ He starts ditching gang meetings to take you out on dates more often, Mikey doesn't seem to mind, as long as Takemichi brings him some snacks back

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Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe @southside-otaku @xxchthonicreaturexx @evergreen-endo @hanmaslilslut @dystop4in14nd @mysouleaten @mdsbabygirl

[lookingforhappy]

thnk u @air--so--sweet for pointing out the tua prop auction, i am obssessed so ofc im now writing up my own transcripts for stuff. i bet someone else has done this but i couldnt find it so here's my record of it:

this is from Reginald's red book in s1 (i presume the dates are written day/month/year as Reginald is english)

transcript:

"#00.01 Behaviour Part 4 -When given opportunity, he acts in accordance to my expectations, and to my instruction, and only to my expectation and instructions. Further experiments needed to figure out the extent of his blind loyalty. -Unknowable at this time if this productive for the cause or detrimental for the cause. 4/03/01 Conducted experiment in which I sent #00.01 to this woods to watch for threats. Not only did he not ask about said threats, he found ways to come up with his own possible threats. He stood watch in a weak, slight base camp from dawn until dusk, without asking if he should stay on overnight. He is still there. -Is it truly best to have the best follower be the leader??"

transcript:

"5/09/01 Another experiment conducted in which I gave #00.01 an unknowable mission, but this time had him try to lead the team in his cause. I instructed #00.01 to take the team and patrol the state beach. Up and down. Until the threat revealed itself. Within hours all members had referred to pursue mission on such little intel. #00.01 never stopped. Even after the pleading from #00.03. Whom usually shows an emotional weakness for. #00.03 Abilities Part 3 -Makes one wonder if she is all the Umbrella Academy really needs. -Her full potential makes the rest of the team look like an afterthought. -How can I convince her the team needs her? Confounded at not being able to capture a non-existent opponent flag. Their petty feud seems to know no bounds. But if the feud motivates #00.02 in a way to suceed in that types of scale, so be it. Work-load Capacity Ranking 1-#00.05 (negated by disregard for rules and safety) 2-#00.01 (enhanced by propensity to protect siblings) 3-#00.03 (strength in collaboration) 4-#00.06 (follower) 5-#00.04 (untapped and unfocused potential) 6-#00.02 (could be 1st or 6th depending on mood) Discipline Notes -Physical pain yields best results with males. -Emotional trauma yields best results with #00.03 and Klaus. Especially when inflicted on others. -Separation from group does not work on #00.02."

transcript:

"-Sensory Statistics -Visual - 21.4% -Auditory - 8.7% -Kinesthetic - 69.9% -Disorders -Likely tendency toward Oppositional Disorder (ODD) -Maternal family history of possible sociopathy (seems incongruent to dynamics with Seven; background research ongoing ref p.49) -Phobias -Darkness -Solitude -Binds Effective Behaviours Modification Techniques"

edit 03/07/2024: spelling corrections 😬

my thoughts beneath the cut:

Pic 1

interesting that Reginald seems more interested in Luther's psychology, and whether it's a mistake for him to be the leader due to his blind loyalty and strict adherence to instruction (to me, Luther reads as somewhat autistic here, following rules to the letter, but this could also be a result of childhood abuse).

Reginald's interest in Luther's blind loyalty, and experimenting on him to test where or if he has a limit on said loyalty, is very similar to the moon mission. Reginald said there was a purpose to it in s3, but maybe the purpose was testing the extent of Luther's loyalty. Maybe he was waiting to see at what point would Luther actually start to ask his father questions, or make requests of him or even outright defy him. We know Luther had started asking for more food, but maybe Reginald was pushing him further, to see at what point he'd ask to come home.

Since Reginald didn't send any of the Sparrows to the Moon it would seem like Luther's moon mission was unneccessary, but to Reginald there was nothing more important than training the children. Since Reginald seems to doubt whether having a Follower be a Leader, maybe he was trying to force Luther into a position that would help him learn how to use his own initiative?

Pic 2

this one is a gold mine.

Luther once again cannot not follow instruction or leave his work unfinished, but he's also considered to be very protective of his siblings by Reginald (which is a good thing in Reginald's books).

Allison is desperate for him to stop, but also seems like she has self-worth or anxiety issues that Reginald is unable to cure her of, likely related to her feeling like people would hate her if they knew the real her.

Diego's feud with Luther over being no.1 wasn't intentional on Reginald's side, but he didn't discourage it either as he felt it motivated Diego. Which is probably related to the fact that Diego doesn't seem to work well without the group. He also says Diego could be no.1 if he sorted out his emotions, but he ranks him in last.

Five is marked top of the group, above even Luther, but he's too opposed to rules and safety in Reginald's eyes.

Ben seems to be keeping quiet and doing as he's told, which also seems to be a good thing to Reginald.

also interesting that Klaus is referred to by name not number, and is grouped with Allison rather than with the "males".

I don't think "physical pain" refers to torture or corporal punishment, but perhaps exhaustion or intense physical regimines? Mostly because Reginald seems extremely hands off with the kids.

Pic 3

It doesn't say who this entry is about but "Oppositional Disorder" and "sociopathy" seems most consistent with Five. and now that we know his mother was a butcher, she seems the most likely candidate to have been thought a sociopath.

(edit: Although, Klaus is also suggested to have ODD in S3, this doesn't seem consistent with the earlier entry mentioning he is more receptive to emotional pain and pain inflicted on others, than to physical pain inflicted to himself. Plus, Rachel seems very emotionally intelligent, and this entry points out a positive relationship with Viktor which has always been more Five's thing)

I don't agree with the sociopath diagnosis, but it seems Reginald is hestitant to diagnose it in the first place since he notes that Five has a good relationship with Viktor, probably meaning he's not devoid of empathy.

the Phobias is also interesting. Darkness, Solitude and Binds all suggest he was forced into similar situations as Klaus and Viktor, where he had to use his powers to escape cramped conditions. the fact that he notes Solitude is one of his phobias is also v sad all things considered. plus the fact that Five is the only Brelly to sleep on a separate floor to the other 6 siblings - maybe this was Reginald's attempt to cure him of this phobia?

[bamboozledbird]

𝕚𝕗 𝕚 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕚 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 // stiles stilinski imagine

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, Theo Raeken, Lydia Martin, Scott McCall Pairing(s): Stiles x fem!reader, Stiles x you (no use of y/n), Theo x fem!reader, Stiles x ofc Word Count: 7k (bbygurl got away from me oops) Tags: Hurt/a little, itty bit of comfort, angst is my lifeblood i fear, let's play a game of who can find all the noah kahan lyrics Warnings: Underage drinking/drug use (at least in america rip, they're all 19+), suggestive language, some light cheating, i think that's it?, sad girl summer :'(

Request: “You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!” for stiles please and thnk you!!!

Part II: after many requests, here’s the happy ending: part two A/N: i am well aware theo is way too nice, and me personally?? could never forgive him for hurting scott mccall, the light of my fucking life. but it's for the plot. the things we must do for the plot of it all. i might make a part two? but this was already long, and i liked the conclusion enough to stop. lemme know if that sounds interesting to y'all. ps: listen to strawberry wine and the view between villages for vibes.

That first night, you drove home—207 miles in less than 3 hours, sobbing the entire way. Didn’t matter that you were right in the middle of finals. Didn’t matter that you had Math 19 at 8:00 in the morning. Nothing mattered except for the ringing in your ears, the blistering echoes of, ‘I can’t do this anymore,’ over and over and over again until you stumbled into the house you grew up in—the house he practically grew up in. He was all over every room, all over your entire goddamn hometown, all over you, and you had this desperate, crawling urge to scrub your skin raw. Strip everything away with turpentine until the shadows of his hands and mouth were gone, until you couldn’t smell cedar and 15 years of summer nights and Sunday mornings. 

That night you cried so hard it scared your sister. She spent most of the night with her back slumped against your bedroom door, fingertips poking through the little crack underneath, just like she did the first night your parents brought you home. She had to know that you were breathing, had to make sure that your little chest was rising and falling in your sweet bassinet—if you were inhaling in-between your fractured sobs. You eventually cried yourself to sleep—like a baby, like a broken heart—and thrashed around sweat-damp sheets and dreams of him kissing someone else on his couch. 

Months later, you finally realize it’s a bit self-involved to think that the universe cares enough about your short, temporal existence to conspire against you…but it certainly feels like it when you tie it all together with red string. After Stiles stopped wanting you, everything just…decayed, rotted, died—so quickly, too quickly for you to bury any of the remains. You’re still grieving Allison, constantly, and currently failing at least half your classes, and, oh yeah, battling literal demons at least three times a week—but mostly, you’re just tired. You’re just so goddamn tired of it all.   

To put it plainly, you’re drowning. 

That must be why the neat lines of text in your Math 20 textbook are swirling into indecipherable whirlpools. It’s just so…frustrating. You get math. Math is your thing. Derivatives shouldn’t ever send you into a bout of angry tears—but you are, you’re angry. Angry at the numbers for blurring into something unrecognizable, angry at yourself for not recognizing them, for becoming a person you don’t know or like. Your lashes clump together, and few mascara-tinted tears drop onto the glossy pages. At least, the cloudy text isn’t a hallucination now. 

 “Are you okay?”

The library is quiet, so quiet that you should’ve heard him coming, but you jump at the sound of Theo’s voice. You don’t know him that well; Theo isn’t really the kind of guy you’d talk to, at least not before everything you knew slipped through your fingers. It’s not like you ever disliked him; it’s just…he’s always been everything you’re not—focused, organized, completely in control. He’s confident but not cocky, smart but not arrogant, ridiculously good-looking but just charismatic enough that you can’t really hate him for all the maiming and scheming he pulled last year. He’s been punished enough, you think, and sure—maybe a part of you feels that way simply because Stiles doesn’t.

You haven’t spoken to Theo much, not really. Scott does most of the talking when he shows up to the occasional pack meeting, and Lydia won’t let him within ten feet of you anyway. Frankly, you don’t realize that he knows your name until he says it. His voice is soft in a way that you know isn’t just because of library conduct. It’s his eyes, you think—they’re warm with a concern you aren’t sure what you’ve done to deserve.

You nod and then blink at the fuzzy pages of your math book, eyes almost vacant, “I just…I don't understand.”

Theo sits down next to you and leans forward, scanning the text briefly, “Which part?”

You flush, “...all of it.”

He doesn’t laugh or roll his eyes like you thought he might. Instead, he pulls his chair closer to yours and reaches for a pencil. “Most people will tell you that derivatives are the ‘instantaneous rates of change.’ That’s what the book says, and it’s kind of true, but you’re right—that doesn’t actually make any sense. Things can’t actually change in a single instant, right? Obviously, change happens between two instances, so what they actually mean is a derivative's the rate of instantaneous change measured as precisely as possible.” Theo’s voice is soft in your ear as he drags his finger across your textbook, connecting the vague definitions to numbers that actually compute through your teary haze.

You sit back and just watch for a minute, a little in awe, as he makes all the squiggles into numbers again—and you haven’t been found more than a few feet away from him ever since. You guess it’s because you’re hoping, against all odds, that he can do the same for your life. At least in some small way, maybe.

It’s definitely easier to show up to Lydia's party with his hand in yours. 

You’re all back in Beacon Hills for the summer, and it’s nice. It really is. During the school year, you’re spread all across the state for the most part—you, Theo, and Lydia at Stanford; Scott, Kira, and Malia at UC-Davis; Liam and Mason, the babies, about to start their senior year of high school (it makes you want to cry if you think about it too long); Derek in…wherever he ends up for a season (it was fun to visit while he was in New York, and you secretly hope he makes a return in the fall); and, of course, there’s Stiles. He’s all the way on the other side of the country for his Quantico internship, and you still can’t escape him. His hands are all over your scent, all over every important moment of your life since pre-school. Sometimes, you think that you’ll always be one breath away from choking on the memory of him. But it’s easier, you remind yourself; it’s easier to be a minute away from home with Theo standing next to you. 

The music is loud in Lydia’s front room, thumping through your chest and sharpening the anxiety crawling through your veins—gnawing at your corneas until a haze of vape and weed and flashing lights consume your vision: pink, blue, green, red, and then pink again.

Theo tightens his grip on your hand and gently pulls you into the kitchen. It’s still loud, but the air is clearer here, and the crowd is thin. There’s a couple you vaguely recognize from high school making out on the granite countertop, too enwrapped in each other’s tongues to notice the mixer-sticky surface, and a couple boys who were on the lacrosse team gather drinks for another round of beer pong behind them. 

“You’re psychic,” you hum, resting your chin against the little dip in Theo’s sternum so that you can grin up at him, “tell the truth.”

He laughs easily and wraps his arms around your waist. The solid weight releases some of the vague unease stubbornly clinging to your synapses. “I solemnly swear that my supernatural abilities end at claws and fangs. I just know you; that’s all.” 

You hum as he sways with you a little and shake your head, “It’s only been a few weeks. You’ve gotta have some help from the other side.”

Theo shrugs and lifts you onto the counter behind him—a non-sticky patch, thankfully—and brushes your hair out of your eyes, “Maybe I’ve been paying attention for a little longer than a few weeks.”

You tilt your head and purse your lips into a pout you hope is even half as cute as the wicked gleam in Theo’s eyes, “How long?”

He shrugs again and ducks down to murmur in your ear, “Maybe since the first grade.”

His breath is warm against your cheek, but you know that’s not the only reason your face feels hot. You push against his chest, pulling a little face, “Shut up.”

Theo laughs and grabs your wrists, kissing your knuckles, “I’m serious! You were so cute with your little pigtails and missing teeth.”

You whine a little, embarrassed as you are as pleased, and hide your face in his neck. It smells good, a little citrusy from his cologne and a little sweaty from the sheer amount of grinding bodies in the house—like a man, like he can and will take care of you. “Stop it. I hated those bangs.”

He pinches your sides a little, “And the way you’d always shoot your hand up first—with the right answer, of course—I was smitten.”

You pull away from his neck and arch your brow, “Was?”

“Am,” he concedes with a soft smile, cupping your cheek and thumbing along your lash line, “am completely smitten.” 

He dips in to kiss you, lips barely an eyelash-width away from yours, when a prim cough pulls him away from his spot in-between your legs. You peer around his shoulder and roll your eyes, albeit fondly, at the stern look on Lydia’s face. She’s always been protective of you, even more so after Allison and the whole Stiles debacle, but you’re a bit tired of the Theo Raeken witch hunt. 

You slip down from the counter and rock onto your tiptoes to kiss Theo’s cheek—mainly to see the pinch in Lydia’s perfectly tapered brows. “Can you put this in the coat room,” you hum against his skin, shrugging off your baggy leather jacket. He knows the real reason you’re sending him away—of course he does, sometimes it feels like he knows everything—but he goes with a smirk anyway because, despite Lydia and Stiles’s suspicions, he’s trying his absolute hardest to redeem himself. 

“You could be a little nicer, y’know,” you reach for a hard lemonade from the ice bucket dripping a puddle of water onto the tile floor. You uncap it on the lip of the massive island and fold your arms over your chest, “He’s been nothing but the perfect boyfriend so far.”

Lydia matches your stance, brows curving, “Boyfriend?”

Heat crawls up your neck to your ears. You haven’t actually discussed labels or exclusivity—you think it’s too early; don’t want to scare him off, but Lydia doesn’t need to know that. “Boyfriend.”

Her curls trickle over her shoulder like the strawberry wine in her cup as she tips her chin and purses her lips into a flat line, “Stiles is here.” 

You try not to react—aren’t entirely sure why you do—and hide your complicated frown behind a sip of lemonade. It’s extra bitter going down. “Okay?”

Lydia shifts her weight from one Jimmy Choo to the other and sighs heavily, “He’s not going to like it.”

A flare of irritation sparks in your gut that you chase with a tip of your bottle. “Okay?” you mutter, wiping the excess liquid away with the back of your hand. A smear of nude lipstick is left behind, and you feel the sudden need to leave some on Theo’s neck for everyone to see. 

“I’m just warning you; it’s going to be a whole thing,” Lydia waves her hand in the air as she takes a dainty sip from her cup. Her pink manicure shines under the lights, and you wonder briefly how she can make every color look good with her red hair.

You hum and lean forward, grin a little sloppy as you sidle up to her side, “That you’ll be on my side for. Obviously.”

Lydia watches you carefully, eyes heavy, and tucks some of the hair falling in your face behind your ear. “Obviously,” she takes your hand, squeezing it tightly, and you feel a little less giggly and a lot more tender. 

You let her pull you into the crowded front room for a dance. It’s a good song, you think. Happy, lots of bass to jump to, and you’re shiny-faced and giddy by the time it’s over. 

Meandering towards the back patio for some fresh air, you pull your tank top away from your torso, gauzy material sticky with sweat and someone’s body glitter. You aren’t entirely sure where Theo ended up, but you take it as a good sign that he’s mingling with your friends—which, bless his crooked little heart, is all he’s ever wanted. 

The night breeze is so nice against your clammy skin that you feel a little lightheaded. You collapse on a padded deckchair and kick your feet up onto a keg, empty, most likely, based on its current state of abandonment. After a moment of hazy tranquility, a red solo cup filled to the brim with an unknown, potent liquid blocks your view of the winking gold embellishments on your boots. 

“You look like you need a drink,” Scott smiles at you from his slight bend over your head.

You take the cup from Scott eagerly and down about half of it to soothe the rawness in your throat—asthma is a bitch in hotboxes, makes you almost consider asking Scott for the bite. “I need about ten,” you hum, licking the little dribble of cherry-something from the corner of your mouth. It’s too sweet, but the ice is easing the beginnings of a headache forming in your temples. 

Scott sits down next to you, and you grumble a little as he nudges your side with his elbow until he has enough room to stretch his legs out too. “You look happy,” he grins at you, eyes crinkly and sweet. “Been a minute since I’ve seen that.”

“I feel happy,” you lean against his side and rest your cup against your cheek. The condensation gathered on the plastic is a godsend against your flushed face. “For the first time in…way too long.”

“Good,” Scott's voice is sincere, in the most genuinely empathic way that only Scott McCall can be, and he gently nudges your foot with his, “I’ve been worried.” He pauses and looks down at the contents of his cup, watches the ice slowly melt into whatever he poured for taste alone—you don’t like the pensive squint in his eyes. “You know I want to trust Theo, right? I really want to believe that he’s changed.”

You sigh a little, but because he only ever wants the best for everyone and, well, because it’s Scott, you say, “But?”

He gives his hands a small frown and taps his finger against the side of his drink, “Not a but, exactly. I do think he’s different now.” The mostly goes unsaid, and you watch him closely, waiting for him to finish. “I just want you to be careful, that’s all. I don’t want you to…rush into anything after, well,” Scott scratches the back of his neck a little and winces, “you know.”

“After Stiles dumped me because, ‘he needed space,’ and then started dating someone new two weeks later,” you finish for him flatly. He hadn’t even been subtle about it. His new girl was all over his Insta within the month—and she’s still fucking stunning in his flannels weeks later. Your stomach turns, but you swallow another mouthful of your dri—rum and Cherry Coke, you finally place the flavor, smiling a little at the memory of getting tipsy on the same drink at Senior prom with Scott, Kira, and…Stiles. It’s a good memory, you decide. You won’t let him take it from you.

“Yeah.” Scott sighs into his drink and then takes a long chug, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again, you know? None of us do.”

“I know,” you smile at him fondly and kiss his cheek, “and it’s very sweet, but I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.” 

Scott smiles, bright and puppy-like, and then his head cocks with his little sixth-sense tick—also puppy-like, you think with a smirk. Scott’s grin fades and he murmurs, “Three o’clock,” against the rim of his cup.

Your eyebrows furrow, “What?”

Scott laughs, but it’s strained, and then nods towards something across the pool, “To your right.”

You turn your head, expecting to see one of your friends doing something stupid, and freeze momentarily when you meet Stiles’s gaze. His eyes are a little unfocused, murky with whatever’s in his plastic cup, but they sharpen when he sees you. He backs down first, and you polish off your drink, craving the sweet burn in your throat. “I need another drink.”

“You need to talk to him,” Scott says, and he takes your empty cup away from you, like he’s worried you can magically refill it with the simple power of desire. “If you can’t do it for him, do it for me. His brooding is really getting out of control.”

You don’t bother bringing up that Stiles is the one who ended it or that he brought his new girlfriend home with him. “Maybe,” you shoot Scott a sly grin and try to snag his drink from his hands, but your clumsy fingers are no match for his werewolf reflexes, “I do love and cherish you very, very much.”

Scott laughs and ruffles your hair, approaching noogie territory. “Should’ve gone out with me.”

You can’t help but look for him through the fog rising above the heated pool. Stiles’s face is pale in the reflection of the lit water; the shadows ripple across his cheeks when he tugs his girlfriend into a sloppy kiss—Chelsea, you recall, proud that there’s only a little bitterness coating the thought. “Don’t I know it,” you finally say. It’s the churning reflection and the smell of chlorine, you reason; that’s why you feel a bit like throwing up your last couple drinks.

Scott frowns when you don’t swat at his side or make fun of him, like you’d usually do in the face of such ridiculous teasing, and follows your gaze. “But that was never going to happen, huh,” he says quietly. “Not with the…” he trails off, face scrunching as he searches for the right words, “throbbingly in love since birth thing.”

You laugh through the stabbing sensation in your chest. “Throbbingly?”

He waves his free hand as he takes another sip of his drink, “You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t think I do,” you say, a small smile twitching on your face as Scott spills most of his red drink onto his white t-shirt.

He sighs and pulls the soaked material away from his chest, head darting around as he looks for something to mop up the mess. “You guys were just like…always ahead of everybody from the beginning, you know? Brains, love, all of it. I swear you guys were actually born like 30 years old, or maybe it's some kind of reincarnation, soulmate thing—okay, it probably has more to do with the…” 

“Early on-set trauma?” you fill-in for him, sparing him the unpleasantness of bringing up dead mothers and mental illness.

Scott nods and licks his bottom lip before continuing, “I remember this kid had a huge crush on you, like way back in elementary school, and even at nine years old I knew he didn’t have a shot. It was just obvious, you know? It was always going to be the two of you. It was just always gonna end up that way.”

You almost laugh at the sight: Scott dabbing at his shirt with a pink beach towel and oh-so casually confirming that your worst fears aren’t only valid but in fact a reality. Maybe, you really can’t love someone else, not the way you loved him. Maybe, you’re just kidding yourself when you talk about it in the past-tense. Maybe, it really is just the two of you, even if it’s all in your head now. 

“I’m definitely not drunk enough for this,” you try to sound flippant, but your words are as shaky as the hand you're raking through your hair. It’s already a mess, but you can’t stop. Your hands need to do something. 

“Then you’re really not gonna like what’s coming next,” Scott says as he jerks his thumb towards something behind him.

You turn your head, and your eyes widen when you see Stiles trudging towards the two of you with his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. The chair’s metal frame squeaks with Scott’s shifting weight. He clamors to his feet, mumbling something about cleaning his shirt, and you give him your most intimidating glower, “Scott, if you walk away from me right now, I swear to fuckin’ god, I’ll never—Hi.” Your tone is clipped, short and to the point, when Stiles stops in front of you.

“Hey,” Stiles’s voice is dull, void of emotion, and so is his face. He stares at you, and you wish you knew what was really flickering behind that burnt umber and citrine honey. There was a time when you would’ve known—when you always knew. It’s so strange, you think, so strange how quickly someone can become a stranger.

You clear your throat and tuck your legs underneath yourself, tugging on the hem of your short skirt to maintain some semblance of modesty. His eyes still dart to your upper thigh, lingering on the strip of skin that’s bared when you sit upright. It’s only for a split second—but it’s enough. He’s seen it before, after all. Felt it with his long fingers and open palms. Dragged his lips across it, and left wet, open-mouth kisses along every inch—but he still looks like he wants to sink his teeth into the supple flesh one last time. 

You swallow, hard, and stand, “So…how’ve you been?”

“Fine,” he replies flatly. “Obviously not as good as you.”

Your lips purse as your eyes narrow, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“First Theo Raeken, now Scott McCall: True Alpha, God among werewolves, Messiah of Beacon Hills. I’m genuinely impressed—bottom of my heart, babe. I mean, s’quite the body count if we’re talkin’ claws and body hair alone,” he spits. Despite the slight slur in his words, his consonants are barbed and serrated at the edges. They prick your skin and sting long after he finishes, and you know they’re going to follow you all the way home.

“Don’t be a dick,” you snap, wrapping your arms tightly around your biceps. The chill isn’t so pleasant anymore.  

“What? I’m just giving you the props you’ve so clearly earned. You’ve got the magic touch.” Stiles cants his head in a way that distinctly reminds you of someone else—a monster who stole the face of the boy you loved a lifetime ago. “I’d ask how good the sex is, but I already know. It’s that thing you do with your tongue, right? When you’re givin’ head? That’s how you get ‘em, huh. Suckers—” his drink spills on his shoes when he lets out a sharp chortle, “suckers. Didn’t even mean to do that.” 

You stare at him, eyes burning, and try to determine exactly how drunk he is. “Stop it.” You do your best to look more annoyed than devastated—the last thing you need is to start crying like you still care. He can't win; you won’t let him, not like this. “Just stop. It’s pathetic—you’re pathetic.”

Something complicated rolls over his face, and Stiles clenches his fists, “Whatever. Guess it’ll be too late to say told’ya so when he rips your heart out and broils it—or whatever the fuck psychopaths do for fun these days.” 

Your face crumples a little—not because you think Theo would ever actually hurt you but because Stiles sounds so ambivalent about the possibility. Sometimes you hate him, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot—but you’ve never stopped caring, not once. You never stop worrying about if he’ll make it out alive, if he'll survive with all his breakable bones and fragile skin intact. You find yourself staring at the ceiling until the sun rises, dwelling on all the horrific, life-or-death situations he’ll end up in when he graduates from the Academy years from now. Stiles was your best friend years before he was your boyfriend. Did all that really not matter now? Just because of something as stupid as a breakup? It’s just so…high school. You really thought it’d been…more. 

Everything. You used to think it was everything.

“Stay the fuck away from me, Stiles,” you shove past him, stumbling a bit over your boots’ chunky heel and a little too much rum. 

He doesn’t follow you, and you should be glad. You should be happy that he isn’t there to witness the black smears under your eyes or the snot you’re trying to hide with a few discreet sniffles. You should be grateful that he doesn’t see Theo pull you into his side and take you home, grateful that he can’t ruin the soft kisses Theo rains down on the crown of your head and the way he doesn’t push to come inside after you say your parents are gone.

But you aren’t, and you hate yourself for it. 

You barely manage to wipe off what’s left of your makeup with a damp towel and throw on some clean clothes before you tumble into bed. You’re still sweaty, grimy with tears and a night of dancing, but the rum is hitting hard, and you just want to go to sleep and forget he ever existed.

You’re halfway between sleep and consciousness in the early hours of the morning when you hear a loud thud against your bedroom window. The thudding continues, and with a great sigh you slip out of your sheets, hissing when your bare feet land on the cold floor. You slowly shuffle towards the bay window, trying to forget it's where you had your first kiss, and kneel on the cushioned bench. You have to rub at your eyes a few times when you see Stiles trying to break into your house. You only unlock the latch after you convince yourself that you’re going to push him off of the roof into the rose bushes two stories below, and then, of course, you sit back on your heels so that he has room to crawl through the narrow opening. 

“When the fuck did you start locking your window?” Stiles stumbles into your room and catches himself against the floor with his palm, feet still dangling over the windowsill. You take great pleasure in shoving his legs off of the window seat and watching him fall face-first onto the carpeted rug. He grunts when he lands and rubs his jaw as he sits up, “Guess I deserved that.” 

His lips part when he gets a good look at you, backlit by the moon and all his worst mistakes. You’re in an old t-shirt from middle school, bleach stains all along the left shoulder, and a pair of baggy sweatpants with ratty holes around the hem from years of dragging against the ground. Your face is still tacky with tears, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, and Stiles is pretty sure he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

You shift uncomfortably, pull your knees to your chest, and shiver as the night air drifts through the open window, “Still drunk?” 

“Not so much,” he holds up a mostly steady hand.

“Still a fucking asshole?”

“Probably.” Stiles bites his lip and shrugs, “Definitely.”

You stare at him, sniffling quietly, hoping that he can’t hear how pathetic it sounds, “Stiles, what are you doing here?” 

He drums his fingers against his thighs and shrugs again. You want to smack him. And hold him. And maybe drink some more liver poison until the school year starts again. “Dunno, just started walkin’, n’ I ended up here.” Stiles closes his eyes, and his lashes are so strikingly dark against his pale skin. “I always end up here,” he whispers like a vow, like a prayer, like forever. 

You dig your toes into the bench and swallow a hiccup. “Don’t,” your protest is weak, and you blame it on your sore throat. “You can’t say shit like that. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” Stiles rubs a hand over his face. He’s in need of a shave, you notice, or…maybe not. You kind of like the stubble the more you get used to it—your tipsy, sleep-deprived mind stupidly wonders what it’d feel like between your thighs. Stiles sighs, returning your attention to far more unpleasant thoughts, “But I just want to.” He leans onto his palms and tips his head back between his shoulders, shaking his head at the ceiling. “I just wanna say it all, all the things I thought while you were gone. Knew I would the second I saw you.”

“You’re—” your tongue is thick as you struggle for words over the conflicting emotions wrangling each other in your throat, “you’re so fuckin’—you can’t just come here and act like—” You rub aggressively at your eyes and push yourself to your feet, “You need to go, Stiles. I want you to go.”

Stiles stands with you and cards his fingers through his hair. It’s long, curling around his ears, and you turn your gaze away from him, staring at the wall and digging your fingers into your forearms to stop yourself from reaching for him. “Can we just…talk?” he whispers, whether it’s for his sake or yours, you’re not entirely sure. He looks small, scared, but you can’t tell if he’s afraid for you or of you. “Just for a little bit. I need…I just need another minute. That’s all, and then I’ll go. Promise.”

I need. I need. I need. It’s always what he needs on his time. You cross the floor with wild eyes and snap, “What do you want to talk about? Huh? How you left me for someone else, or how I’m such a fucking whore for moving on?”

He grits his teeth and grabs your wrists, long fingers overlapping around the delicate bones when you try to yank away from his firm grip. “You think this is what I want?” He doesn’t yell. Somehow, that’s worse. “You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!”

You thrash in Stiles’s arms, and his pained expression is blurry through your wet glare, “You had me! I was yours! I was so fucking in love with you, and then you—you just ended it and moved on, like it was nothing.” Your chest heaves, a stark contrast to the gentle quiver in your bottom lip. Your voice drops to something almost inaudible; it's the only way you can get through this while you're crying, the only way you can force the words through your tender throat, “Like I was nothing.”

Your cries turn into sobs when Stiles pulls you into his arms, and they wrack through your entire body when he kisses your hair and whispers sweet nonsense in your ear. You struggle for a moment longer, and then there's nothing left. You've given him everything. You sag into him, legs sinking with your full weight until he wraps his arms around your waist and presses you tighter to his chest. “I got scared,” Stiles whispers against the crown of your head when your cries peter into hiccups, and your next whimper shudders through your shoulders. He rests his palms against the small of your back and inhales the sweet scent of your shampoo, ducking his head down to kiss your forehead, “You were so far away, and so, so perfect, and I missed you all the fucking time.”

Stiles pauses, but it’s not for you. It’s a stall; you can feel his knee bounce and his fingers twitch. You wait, face buried in his collarbone, too busy trying to breathe to even think about speaking. After a moment, could’ve been seconds, could’ve been hours, he squeezes you—almost until it hurts, and it feels like he’s terrified that you’re just another one of the shadows on your bedroom walls. “I couldn’t ask you to transfer from Stanford to some fuckin’ state school in Virginia, so I fucked everything up ‘cause I guess...at least then it was my choice—and I know that just makes it worse. I know that. Because that means I chose to ruin it, I decided to hurt you…and I’m so fucking sorry. Just so unbelievably, life-ruiningly sorry.”

And there it is. The apology you’ve been waiting for, dreaming of, fantasizing about in every shower, in every cafe line, in every early morning class—and it’s just so…hollow. It sits between the two of you, heavy and horridly inadequate. “You found someone else,” you whimper into his shoulder, clasping at his t-shirt and wetting the white collar with your tears and runny nose—and you wish, more than anything, that this could be enough. “How could you find someone else that quickly?”

Stiles freezes, stops rubbing your back and rocking you from side-to-side, and it’s just jarring enough to remind yourself how dangerous it is to be in his arms. You step back and wrap your arms around yourself instead, and Stiles watches you with something hopeless all over his face. “I was just trying to prove that I didn’t make the biggest fucking mistake of my life,” he says, but he says it to his shoes. You wonder who he’s hiding from: himself or you. “Didn’t work, obviously.”

You just stare at him, arms limp by your sides, and shake your head a little. “What are you doing here, Stiles?” your voice is clotted with mucus and defeat, and it breaks halfway through along with your knees. You lean against the wall and close your lids so that you don’t have to see his eyes: so vast, so deep, so damn pretty—you’re suffocating in them. “What do you want from me?”

He’s relentless. Stiles steps forward, and there’s nowhere for you to go. “I want you.” And that’s the thing, isn’t it? There’s the rub. It’s always hunger, no sating. No happy ending. 

“Nothing’s changed.” You tilt your head and wring your fingers in the hem of your t-shirt, tugging every so often, “I’m still going back to Stanford, and you’re still going back east in the fall.” UPenn. Criminology, obviously. You never got the chance to congratulate him. 

“I know,” he’s right in front of you now, waiting for you to push him away. You don’t.

The back of your head hits the wall as you tip your chin up to look at him, “And I have Theo, and you have…her.”

“I know,” he braces his hands next to the sides of your head, watching your lips move without any shame, breath hot against your skin. 

“Stiles…” you plead with him through your lashes, asking for mercy, on hands and knees begging him to turn around and leave.

“Tell me you don’t want me.” Stiles rests his forehead against yours, “Tell me it’s over, and there’s nothing I can do to fix this.” 

“You already know,” you close your eyes and shake your head, nose rubbing against his, “you know I’d be lying.”

“You love me.” It’s not a question. He knows. He’ll always know.

You shake your head again, and Stiles can taste the salt on your lips, “Doesn’t matter.”

“I love you,” Stiles whispers, carding his fingers through your hair.

“Too late,” your lips brush against his, feather-light, and catch on the chapped center of his mouth.

He kisses you, cups your jaw like you’re ineffably precious, and you feel like you can breathe for the first time in months. Stiles tilts his head a little, and his tongue is gentle in its prodding, almost sweet—but he grabs onto your hips like he wants to eat you alive. You just might let him, you think, when you feel his stubble scrape against your neck as he trails a balmy line of kisses towards your collarbone. 

You wind your fingers in his hair and tug to keep yourself on your feet. “We ca—ah,” he licks along your pulse, on purpose, and you shiver, “we can’t do this.”

Stiles hums against your cheek. “And yet, here I am, sliding my hands under your shirt, trying to cop a feel.” His fingers dip under your shirt. They’re cold on your bare stomach, and you flinch a little. Dizzyingly, you remember where you are, who you’re with, and who's going to text you in the morning to make sure you’re okay.

“We really can’t do this,” you whisper, slipping your hands from his hair to his arms. You pull them away gently and tip your head back from his persistent mouth, “I’m not going to hurt Theo the way you hurt me, and I’m not going to let you do this to someone else.”

“It’s not the same,” he says, gravelly and thick. He turns away from you, paces the length of your room a few times, and throws his hands around like he can change your mind if he gestures hard enough, “You know it’s not the same.” Stiles stops abruptly and shakes his head, seemingly at nothing—and then he’s back in front of you before you can catch your breath. He places his hands on your shoulders and then slides his palms to your biceps, just holding onto you. Not clutching, not squeezing, just a light touch that you can’t seem to break away from. 

“You’ve been my best friend for 15 years,” Stiles licks his bottom lip, and you watch him with wide eyes and a blitzing heart, “and I’ve loved you for well over half of ‘em—just plain wanted you even longer.” He slips his hand down your arm to your hand and tangles his fingers with yours, lifting them to rest over his skittering heartbeat, “You’re mine, and I’m yours. That’s how it is. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it should be.”

You want to say it back, you do, but you just can’t. Not with all the unresolved details wriggling in your ear. “You brought her home, Stiles. You can’t just…just introduce her to your dad and cheat on her all in the same day.”

“Technically, cheat on and then dump,” he tries to smile, but it’s not convincing. Not with the guilt dimming his eyes.

“That’s not funny,” you snap, but the guilt is good. He wouldn’t be the man you know, the boy you grew up with, if he didn’t feel at least a little guilty about the whole thing.

“Dad’s out of town,” Stiles admits quietly, and for some reason, that means more to you than his apology, than his kisses, than his hand in yours. You didn’t realize how much the thought had been bothering you until now—destroying you one post at a time. “I only brought her because I knew you were going to be here with…him.” He shrugs a little, “Frankly, I think she knows. She aced behavioral science.”

You roll your eyes and huff, “You’re an asshole.”

“I know,” he concedes and kisses the back of your hand, continuing along the row of your knuckles, “but I’m in love with you, and it’s become abundantly clear that I always will be.”

Your bottom lip trembles with the desire to give in to what you want, but your hand twists away from him with what you know is right—even though it feels so horrendously wrong. “I can’t do this to him, Stiles. He’s been through so much, and he’s been so good to me, and he’s trying so hard to—”

“But you don’t love him!” Stiles hisses. It’s the loudest he’s been all night, but you don’t flinch from the volume. It’s the truth of it all, the vile honestly you can’t hide from that makes you recoil.

You look at the ceiling through your lashes, an old trick to fight the tears welling in your tear ducts. Some girl in middle school told you about it in the bathroom, and you try to remember her name and what cloying body spray she was spritzing instead of thinking about how easy it would be to let Stiles crawl into your bed and make you forget about everyone and everything that isn’t him. “I should,” you finally murmur throatily, biting on your lip, “maybe I could…someday.”

Stiles whips his head towards your face and takes a little stumbling step backwards, “You don’t believe that.” You’re sure that he wishes he sounded more confident, but he gives himself away with the hand rubbing the back of his neck, “Say you don’t believe that.”

“You need to go, Stiles.” You clutch at your arm with your other hand and step back towards your bed, further away from him and the wet film over his eyes. “I’m serious. I need you to leave.”

He opens his mouth and then scrubs his arm over his face, wiping away the incriminating wet gleam on his cheeks with the sleeve of his flannel. “Okay,” his throat bobs with the strength of his swallow, “yeah, okay.”

You wait until he reaches your bedroom door to crawl onto your bed. You curl in on yourself, like a child, ad press your face into your legs, your knees to your chest, your back against the headboard—but Stiles pauses before you can really fall apart.

Stiles rests his hand against the doorframe and chews on his cheek, on his words, on the thought of you, and then he says, “I’m still breaking up with her. You don’t…you don’t owe me anything—that’s fucking putting it lightly, I know—but I’m still breaking up with her.” He lifts a shoulder and smiles, a little sad but so true, “There’s no one else for me. There’s never going to be anyone else…just thought you should know.”

He’s gone by the time you look up from your kneecaps. Good. You were this close to giving in. This close to throwing yourself over the edge for someone who’s dropped once before, and you’re still cleaning up the mess he left behind. You should be proud of yourself, happy that you weren’t weak enough to say yes, yes, a million, billion, trillion times yes.

But you aren’t, and you hate yourself for it.

[we-dont-talk-about-potato-nonono]

☔️💖☔️thankyou☔️💖☔️

@we-dont-talk-about-potato-nonono They asked me to draw this cute couple

[shwoyo]

hello, i saw your reqs open and i wanted to ask if you could do a seokmin x reader where reader is a shy person who always listens and when they meet seokmin and he listens to their rambling and yeah, thnks in advance! :)

hi anon! thank you for requesting <3 i'm sorry this is kinda rushed + i kinda wasn't able to show readers shy demeanor lol, but i hope you like it!

comfortable with you. — lee seokmin x reader

; fluff, little angst, comfort – warnings: like 1 cuss word – wc: 1,481

note: first req ever, kinda nervous 😅i kindaa rushed it in the end,,, im sorry. BUT ANYWAYS!! i enjoyed writing this! i had so many thoughts on how i wanted to go with this, but stuck with this (kind of) short one. I hope you guys will enjoy this teww! not my best work tho

you love listening to people talking. you've always let people do the talking while you do the listening; its been in your nature since ever. they would talk, and you would hum in agreement or dispute, sometimes speaking your own thoughts. but sometimes, you wish you could just spill your unsaid thoughts to someone. but you can't, for some reason.

–

your junior year has started, new school supplies, new acquaintances, and, of course, a new seatmate. every first day of school always makes you nervous; everything is new, and by that you'd always have to introduce yourself; you hated it.

standing outside your new classroom with your other classmates, the teacher announced that she had already assigned the seating plan. you were kind of grateful, as you quite literally don't know anybody here; you got separated from your friend.

Ms. Shin, your teacher was calling your classmates one by one, then called your name, "next, l/n y/n!" you went up to her. "you'll be sitting next to lee seokmin, he's over there by the window, third row" she stated. you went in the classroom and walked to your seat, which is beside seokmin, your new seatmate. he sat at the aisle part, which left you sitting next to the window, and you were grateful for it.

you sat down and settled your bag behind your chair. honestly, you were pretty nervous because, for the first time, your seatmate was a guy. you were always seated next to girls for some reason.

"hi! i'm lee seokmin. but you can call me seokmin, or any nickname you can think of," he spoke. you quickly turned your head in his direction and just nodded, turning your head to look at the board in front. 'he's so... pretty,' you thought to yourself. it took a second until he spoke again, "what about you? what's your name?" he asked, and you turned to look at him again, quickly realizing that you haven't introduced yourself. "oh, i'm sorry! i'm l/n y/n sorry, did i come off as rude?" you replied, your voice lowering as you spoke. "ah, no, no! it's okay!" he giggled as he responded, waving his hands as a sign that it really is okay. "i'm sorry again," you said, voice low almost like a whisper. "no, i assure you it's fine! everyone gets nervous at the first day of school, even me," he stated. you just nodded, turning your head to look at your table.

your face was red in embarrassment, so much for a first impression with someone who will be next to you your whole junior year. you wished the floor could just eat you whole.

–

months into 11th grade, everyday was a struggle. there were new activities every week, mostly by partners, and you were grateful that in each partner activity, seokmin was your partner. seokmin is the most perfect partner you could ask for; he was always ready and always listened to the instructions of the activity given. you were so grateful for him; you probably wouldn't have survived first term without him.

right now, on a thursday afternoon, you and seokmin were at the library doing the essay activity given by your english teacher, a 15k word essay covering the important events and creations that happened during the renaissance, the deadline being monday. you were trying so hard not to cry as you were stuck on your third paragraph, the whole essay only having 487 words. usually you were quick with this; you love english, you always scored high on the subject. but right now, you were just not motivated enough to write properly.

"Hey, you okay there?" seokmin spoke up, noticing your distraught expression. you only hummed to his question. he was already making it easy for you; he has suggested that we should write 7,500 words each on our part to sum up the 15,000 so it would be easy. you felt bad as you were writing your part so... poorly. "we can take a break if you're stuck," seokmin suggested, "uhm, maybe i'll try to continue mine and you take a break. i wanna at least try and finish this third paragraph," you stated. "hmm, i think no!" he said cheerfully. seokmin closed his laptop, then yours. you looked at him in shock, but he just grabbed your arm, forcing you to stand up, then pulling you towards the door of the library. "s-seokmin! hey! what about our things?" you whisper-shout, "don't worry, we'll be quick!" he replied.

you kinda got used to this; whenever seokmin sensed that you were struggling or stressed, he would always do something to distract you until you were feeling okay. this time, he was pulling you in the hallways of the school, towards the exit, and then walked towards the ice cream stand near the school gate. "hello! can i get one vanilla ice cream and one chocolate ice cream? both no toppings!" seokmin said, the vendor nodded and made his order, "seokmin, i didn't bring my wallet with me." you stated, "its okay! its on me," he replied "no, i'll just pay you when we go back to the library," you said, "nu-uh, this is on me. i won't accept your payment," seokmin responded.

he's always like this. he does something nice for you, but whenever you offer to do something in return, he denies it. this is what you like about him, like as in platonically... yeah, platonically.

–

few more months in junior year, and your feelings towards seokmin kept growing, not platonically. you tried to deny your feelings, but every time you do, he does something that just makes your heart flutter.

and surprisingly enough, you've gotten so comfortable with him that each time you talked, you openly said your thoughts, even you shocked yourself. but, you still weren't comfortable enough to spill your deepest thoughts and rambles, rants you wish you'd said to the person who stressed your thoughts.

still, you were more than happy to be able to finally openly speak your thoughts, even if it weren't your deepest thoughts that hurt you. you were okay with this, you think.

–

but one day during the last 2 weeks of junior year, you were fed up. the world just kept testing and testing you, and you were so tired and just needed to rant, specifically to seokmin.

"and it's just... so fucking tiring! i don't get why they won't do their part. it's almost the end of the school year, and they're acting like this?! i'm just so..." you couldn't finish your sentence as you started to sob. seokmin looked at you with sad eyes, it hurts him to see you like this. 'why couldn't your group mates just do their job properly?' he thought. you sobbed harder as you thought about your uncooperative group mates, then seokmin hugged you.

it was the first time he physically touched you like this; usually he would tap your shoulder, pat your head, or pull your arm when he wants to show something, but hugging you? this was definitely new. but you were too tired to be shocked.

"mhm, i understand y/n." seokmin stated, you sobbed harder than before. for years in your life, you just wanted to hear those words—that someone understood you. you were always the one to listen; you never had the chance to be the one to rant as you grew used to listening. seokmin patted your back, still hugging you. it was so comforting; you wished you could stay there forever.

–

from that day on, you knew that you were super comfortable with seokmin. he's the person you trust your thoughts with the most. not a day goes by where you had to keep your thoughts to yourself anymore; you had seokmin, and he had you, of course. he was there for you, and you were there for him.

the feeling of finally being able to speak up about your deepest, unsaid thoughts and rants was so refreshing. of course, the more comfortable you got with him, the more your feelings grew too.

–

it was on recognition day when you had the courage to finally spill your heart out to seokmin. you were very nervous, but the funny thing was he beat you to it. he confessed first, leaving you shocked. of course you informed him that the feeling is mutual.

you were happy; he was too. your heart was so happy you felt like it would explode. you never have thought that you would find love this early in your life, especially with your old behavior of being shy. but seokmin was there, he was there for you in so many ways. he saved your heart and mind by letting you pour your unsaid rambles to him, and you were so grateful for him, for seokmin, who was now your lover 'till end.

©shwoyo, all rights reserved.

[ilwonuu]

hii can i request a fic with bf!dk/mingyu with a reader who has problems with food or low self esteem?? if you are uncomfortable just ignore it, thnks ! 💗

yes of course!!! i choose dk for this but i think im gonna write something for mingyu too<3 i hope u enjoy and ty for requesting ily💖💖

𝟣𝟩

⇝ 𝗅𝖾𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗈𝗄𝗆𝗂𝗇

❣︎ 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀- 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉， 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅！𝗌𝖾𝗈𝗄𝗆𝗂𝗇 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆！𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

❣︎ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌- 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿<𝟥，，，𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎<𝟥， 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍， 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗆， 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝖽， 𝗌𝖾𝗈𝗄𝗆𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍（𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍） ， 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌， 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾， 𝗅𝗆𝗄 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾

❣︎ 𝖺／𝗇- 𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒 <𝟥 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗈𝗄𝗆𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗌 𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌：（ 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝗈𝗄𝗆𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗂 𝖽𝗂𝖾 ，，，𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 ,,

today was a very hard day. you don’t know how your mind got to this point. the mirror was provoking you. you were feeling a little bit bad about yourself lately. you lost your appetite.

your boyfriend, seokmin had invited you to his house for lunch. he had been cooking incredibly dishes for you. you agreed of course because you miss him a lot. you drove over to your boyfriends house with a little bit of fear.

you knew seokmin could read you perfectly. he knew when you felt even a little bit off. you arrived shortly with a sigh. you knocked on the door trying to shake your negative thoughts away. he opens the door with a big smile.

“hi angel.” he pulls you in quickly.

“you got here at the perfect time! i just finished cooking our delicious lunch.” he pulls you into a hug as you look over to see the food already plated. your heart drops a little but you just figured you can say you’re not hungry or something.

“oh! seok i’m not really feeling hungry but maybe i’ll eat later.” you smile at him softly as he looks at you for a second before nodding.

“oh alright- i thought when i texted you earlier you said you haven’t eaten today?” you don’t look him in the eyes fully as you shrug. he just chuckles before grabbing both of your plates.

“you’re not skipping meals right love? eat something.” his voice is soft as he sits you down next to him.

“minnie- i’m really not hungry it’s okay.” he shakes his head quickly.

“what’s wrong angel? you always eat lunch when i cook it for us.” his hand is on your side gently. his full attention is on you. you thought that you could at least get 10 minutes without him catching you feeling not the best today.

“nothing is wrong seok- i just really don’t want to eat anything right now.” he sighs at you but nods his head.

“okay- but you know you can talk to me. i won’t judge you at all. you can tell me what’s wrong.” you feel like you could cry. his voice is so comforting but it makes you really sad to hear.

you don’t want him to worry about you but you know he will no matter what. you know he doesn’t have a reason to judge you or your appearance. he always makes sure its known that he thinks you’re very beautiful.

“well- minnie i just haven’t been feeling the best about myself lately. i’m having a hard time not thinking about weight every time i eat. i just have really low self esteem.” he listens to you closely as you open up to him.

he feels happy that you feel comfortable enough to talk to him about your true, very real feelings that anyone can feel. he loves how vulnerable you are with him.

“i don’t know how much words can help you feel better but you are so beautiful. it wouldn’t matter how much you ate or how much you didn’t eat you are an amazing person. you are not your appearance at all. even though your appearance is absolutely perfect to me. you are the best person on the inside. you’re beautiful no matter what to me. i really wish you could see yourself how i see you. i know how it feels not have a hard time with food and i just want to say that you are doing perfect the way you are. you don’t have to change those habits at all to be beautiful. im not trying to say you shouldn’t feel this way im just telling you how i see you and don’t feel like you have to always be okay with yourself because i’m not always okay with myself either. just know that i’m always here for you and i will continue to be here every time you feel like this. i will always be here to tell you how perfect you are.”

you literally couldn’t hold the tears in anymore. you were sobbing in front of him. he was quick to wrap his arms around you. he hug was so comforting you didn’t ever want him to let go.

“don’t cry my love. i mean it you are completely valid for how you feel.” he can’t let you catch a moment to stop your tears. you were so thankful for him. he always knew the perfect thing to say to help you feel better.

“can w-we eat seok?” you say in between sobs as you pull away to look at him. he kisses your head with a nod.

“of course angel. i love you okay?” he rubs your cheek as he hands you your utensils.

“i love you more minnie.” you wipe your tears as you focus on the food. you already feel better about eating just with his presence. you truly wouldn’t know what you’d do without seokmin. he is truly everything you had wished for.

“i’m proud of you for telling me. no pressure on finishing your food. each as much as you’re comfortable with.” god you just want to marry him. is that insane? maybe a little bit insane. you pull him into a kiss. you kissed him for longer than he expected.

“thank you for making me feel comfortable.”

[twinypwupy]

haiii sibby ! dunno if u do ff7 requests but . . cans i req a cg! sephiroth stimboard please ?/nf thnk u very much !! <3

✧ㅤִ ﹙cg sephiroth stimboard!﹚ㅤ.ㅤ ౨౿

( requester: @jayelves / cw: knife , needle )

Doll hope chu like it!! ;p, still doing requests just overwhelmed and trying to do them slowly .. doll only did this now because it for sibby!! And doll does do stuff for ff7 and final fantasy either way! Just didn't put it in the request info ;3 crds > 🕸️

( @starletdust )

[we-dont-talk-about-potato-nonono]

❤️✨❤️thankyou❤️✨❤️

"Gaming night"

An art request made for the lovely @we-dont-talk-about-potato-nonono

I absolutely adore these two love birds and drawing them was pretty fun! Hope, you like it :)

[emositecc]

ello idk if you do requests or not but may I request that you have a splendiferous day? :)

love you you're so cool <3

awwww thnk youu

[4only1]

Masterlist

Note: Requests open. Expected release date, 1-2 weeks from day of request Note: Requests for the year will be closing on December 24th!!!

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

Gitae Kim

Best Friends Brother

Signal

What You Know

Closer

Trouble

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

Yamazaki Shingen

Last Great Yamazaki Dynasty

Thnks Fr Th Mmrs

Only

Fear and Loathing

My Little Girl - Daughter! Reader

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

Kenta Magami

Better Than Revenge

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

Series Playlist Secret Santa Series Part 1 - Santa Baby (Daniel, Zack, Jay, Vasco, Eli & Vin Jin) Part 2 - All I Want For Christmas is You (Jake, Johan, Samuel, Eugene & Jerry) Part 3 - Feliz Navidad (Jichang, Taesoo, Seongji, Gitae, Gongseob, Seokdu, Jaegyeon) - Part 4 loading....

[otayuri-challenges]

Otayuri Week 2025 Prompts!

Results from the interest check are out now! Otayuri week will be held January 5 - 11!

Feel free to use as many or as few daily prompts as you wish. Alt prompts can be substituted in place of any other prompt if tagged properly.

View our about page, calendar, and FAQ!

But Wait! There's more!

Due to popular requests, we've also made song prompts for each day! You can view them under the cut or in our playlist. There are no rules for how/if you use the song prompts, so do as you please with them!

Song prompts and written word prompts below the cut:

For the song prompts, we wanted to honor Yuri and Otabek's 'teen rebellion' aesthetic! Please enjoy these love songs from pop-punk and emo classics

Day 1:

Day 2:

day 3:

Day 4:

Day 5:

Day 6:

Day 7:

Alternative:

You can use these for song fics, inspiration, or background noise! Or not at all!

Written prompts:

Day 1:

Friends to lovers

Sharing a bed

Visiting

Day 2: 

Star gazing

Eyes of a soldier

Meeting the family

Day 3:

Gold Medal

First Kiss

First date

Day 4:

Confession

Anniversary

Skate practice

Day 5:

Injury

Motorcycle ride

Bubble bath

Day 6:

Any AU

Painting Nails

Angst

Day 7:

Cuddling

Partner Skate

competition

Alt Prompts:

Losing

Massage

Future

[applejuicefruit]

HELLO I REALLY LUV UR WRITING LUV CAN I REQUEST SOMETHING

can u do like the reader is an artist that can draw portrait and kylian notice her art and he FRICKING praises her... and he request the reader to draw him as a portrait ..the reader really likes him praising

thnk u if u do this request I STILL LOVE UR WRITING

something fluffy after all the sad ones i made <3

kylian mbappe x reader

Art

It was a simple portrait.

Nothing too excessive, that’s how you liked it and people really loved your work.

You started drawing portraits of famous people a few years ago and one day you decided to open a page on instagram where you could show everyone your art. You definitely didn’t expect it to blow up as it did. Two years later you almost had a million followers and high brands always wanted to collaborate with you. You definitely didn’t expect it at all.

But the most success came when you decided to post on your ig a small portrait you made of the Equipe, still when they were playing the world cup and of course you tagged them all. You knew they had a busy life and probably they didn’t even went through all of their notifications so it surprised you when you saw The Kylian Mbappè liking the post and leaving a small heart as a comment.

Of course being the famous person he is now a lot of his fanpages saw that he liked your post so they all reposted your drawing.

The following morning you opened your insta because you saw how many notifications you were getting from that simply portrait but you definitely didn’t expect to see Kylian reposting your drawing in his stories. That made your page reach the million and you were completely shocked.

“I love your works” Kylian texted you.

You didn’t know what to say or what to do so you simply replied back with a “thank you <3”.

“You’re very welcome! You have a lot of talent.” he replied to your previous message.

Kylian Mbappè was saying that you had talent? Were you dreaming? You always had a small crush on him, mostly because you were a huge PSG fan and you couldn’t forget all the time you went to the stadium seeing the team playing but now having him praising your work was something completely different.

“I really appreciate it! Thank you so much Kylian!” you replied and waited for him as you saw the dots moving, sign that he was writing something.

“How would you feel drawing a portrait for me?” he asked you.

“Of course! Just let me know who do you want me do draw :)” you quickly sent him.

“Me” he replied back.

He wanted a portrait of himself and you were the one he wanted to drawing it? You were dreaming, this wasn’t real.

“Sure!” you said back.

“I’ll be waiting then :))” he replied back and you left him unread because what the heck were you going to reply?

You decided to put yourself back to work and started looking for a picture of him that you could draw.

You didn’t find anything you felt were special so you opted for using your imagination and started drawing a portrait of his face.

You put your favourite music on as you were working and in a day you finished the portrait. You wanted to wait before posting it, making him wait a little bit because you didn’t want to look like an obsessed fan.

You waited two days and when you woke up on the third day you posted the draw on your instagram, tagging Kylian of course.

“A special portrait for a special person” you wrote in the caption.

You didn’t even send the picture to Kylian, wanting to surprise him.

You waited and waited but Kylian still didn’t see the picture you posted, maybe he was too busy or training so you didn’t think much about it.

A few hours later you saw a notification popping on your home screen.

Kylian Mbappè started following you.

Kylian Mbappè liked the post.

Kylian Mbappè commented on your post with “I love it, it’s beautiful, thank you so much”.

And you felt like dying.

You immediately opened insta and liked his comment, a way to let him know you saw his notifications.

“You really have talent you know!” he texted you.

“Thank you so much Kylian, it means a lot for me” you wrote him back.

“You don’t have to thank me, it’s true, you’re very talented…and also a very beautiful girl y/n”.

Wait. How did he find you?

No one never saw your face on instagram and no one knew your name as you always used an art name.

“I have my way” he texted you back with a smiley face.

“I didn’t expect that” you joked.

“Well…I would really like to meet the woman behind the art” he texted and you almost fainted.

“That would be a pleasure :)” you still tried to act professional but your mind was racing and your heart was beating so fast you thought it would explode.

“So, how about a date tomorrow?” he texted you with a winky emoji.

“It’s perfect” you quickly replied back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, my artist” he said and you were left speechless. He was flirting with you. He called you his artist. You were currently crying of joy on the inside but you only and 12 hours deciding what to wear and that was where your mind went. You wanted to look at least presentable and not wear a dirty white shirt, full of paint and colors.

You still couldn’t believe that your work just got you a date with Kylian.

[melkyt]

Hey Hey everyone, announcing that Art and AMV requests are open! I will not be accepting anon requests. If you send an ask, i have to see your name. If you dont want me to tag you or reveal your name when posting, say so.

To answer the question i get most often, Requests are free, you dont have to pay me anything xd, i have a kofi but these are free and for fun

3 slots each, i will say when they are filled thnks

Rules for amvs:

The song must have lyrics, that have a narrative and/or has a fast beat. I will not be doing songs that are slow and lacking a story i can match with clips. Please state if you want to be a shippy song (put the ship), or focus on one character.

Characters I will accept for amvs: Luffy, Law, Doflamingo, Corazon, Ace, Sabo, Katakuri, Zoro

Rules for Art:

Limited to Lawlu! Suggestive or SFW only.

If you are my discord friend/mutual and have an idea outside these limits, hit me up and ill hear you out xd

Note: If you have requested a fic from me, I am working on them. No eta on when ill post.

If you have requested anything from me before, feel free to requests again :3