#ticking metronome

[yvofficialfm]

halves way's Daydreaming Tenor

Hisao Tooda {東田悠生}

"Keeping a steady beat can help you be on track."

Leader and tenor of halves way. Hisao goes at his own-pace, acting like an old friend to everyone he meets. He will often daydream, always seeming to have a smile when he does.

#yearnedvoices

[this-reminds-me-of-a-song]

I love this song so so much and it's so so ISAT Core

[asparklethatisblue]

Anyway. Here’s to another year of transing the narrative

[javierduffy]

Same anon from earlier who sent that ask about how Dutch would react to javieran. I finished the fic but uh it's porn lol. If you're still interested it's "steady beat" on ao3

anon i would like you to know that i spent the first 20 minutes of my shift sitting in the bathroom reading this and i do not regret a single moment

THAT WAS SOOOO GOOD ARE UOU INSANE !-?/!?:3! JAVIERAN CONTENT WAS EXCITING ENOUGH ALREADY BUT PORN ??? AND SOFT, FLUFFY, HEAD-OVER-HEELS IN LOVE PORN ???????? you wrote this for ME !!!!!!! and i am SO GRATEFUL !-!2!2!3 OMG !!!!!!!!!! it was sooo good i was literally giggling and kicking my feet the whole time, you nailed their dynamic sooo so perfectly imo 😭💔 reading that was such a pleasure thank you for the food !!!!!

[thetruekyle]

I think it all just finally clicked,

at 3am on a Tuesday..

☆ I was raised "brokenhearted."

By destitute dreamers and settled seamers..

Raised ever so lovingly, true enough-

-but I became broken-hearted by default,

The relativity of relative psyches,

Warping what was pure right from the off-

He looks like E.T. as I drew my first breath,

Seemingly, the slapped butt of a cosmic joke.

Though I had no real sorrow to dwell upon,

-and my light matched the happy I would poke,

I always tarnished, marked, knicked, scratched,

Sundered, shredded, demolished & destroyed-

All the things I actually sought to hold and love,

Cuz I was never taught how to care for much-

Without breaking and smashing it,

-to smithereens, but good in the end.

I have always been sensitive and soft, you see-

But my rearing to match was never .. me .

It was actually kinda sus, and mostly hood.

So my beast had been caged, and never free.

Incarcerated, violated,

-kept for his own protection,

And too long have his eyes paled,

-away from the sun,

Too long has his mane grizzled and grayed

-from sheer lack of fun,

Too long has this shadow been his home,

-where in a world of billions,

his reflection makes it seem there's only one.

But this one is a good boy deep down,

I know it because he's the same; a part of me,

And I Am every bit the unified Hol-Ogrum one

-but still just a bit shy,

despite being a ferocious guy...

For being otherwise just a bit too strong,

-ever-training apter control of claws & schlong,

Draining pens and loading bongs,

Dulling the edge,

Like landscaping a cliff face,

Now I am leveling up all my pawns,

He's broken free from the molds-

Once created to restrain and hold him.

He rises a monster, a beast, and a horror,

Ever yearning in his won freedom,

Just to be held again,

but in loving arms, for real

Not unlike all those loving hugs,

That conditioned his heart,

After so many years,

-to prefer not to feel........................................

…………………………………………………………………

[abbaswift]

need to see how taylor performs icdiwabh live…. every time the 1,2,3,4 happens she’d go into enthusiastic performance mode

[cartridgeconverter]

I AM GOING TO STRANGLE MY STAND PARTNER

[nimblermortal]

Spent a significant portion of a road trip trying to explain time signatures to Hyacinth, with ultimately this breakthrough:

Hyacinth: Oh! The lower number is how many ticks of the metronome you skip!

Nimbler, a bowed string player: wut

Hyacinth, a beginning plucked string player: It's how many ticks of the metronome you don't play on!

I had been wondering how plucked strings handle the distinction between whole notes and quarter-followed-by-three-rests...

[ying-dawdles]

canadian weather truly be wild because tell me why yesterday there was a huge blizzard and freezing rain and today it's +17 DEGREES

[fayewoodss]

I have a lot of thoughts on this topic that I might share after this weekend.

[this-reminds-me-of-a-song]

This IS lost media, I actually only got this album through someone asking me if I wanted it

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐄

w.c › 6k

warnings › face claims. Part 3. Bottom male reader. Brief use of the word “pussy”

plot › you start to date Mingi, learning how much he has wanted you for years while reevaluating your relationship with Yohan

kinks › feminization, friction play, size differences, Noona kink, calls reader “girl”, praise kink

Words to know › maknae (막내) — youngest. Hyung (형) — a term a younger male will call an older male. Jagiya/Jagi (자기야) — “sweetie/baby.” Noona (누나) — a term a younger male will call an older female.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Four years ago

“I heard you.”

Yohan glanced over at you, staring at your back. It was the day of the group’s first performance. The other members were to the other side of the dressing room, doing vocal exercises. You were fixing your tie. Everyone was dressed in school uniforms.

“Heard what?” Yohan asked, tilting his head. He never talked to you unless necessary. While every other member seemed to just fall at your feet—he wanted nothing to do with you.

It took a minute before you turned and looked at him. His eyes widen at the sight. You were on the verge of tears but somehow you were able to glare at him.

You walked over to him, “I heard you say that I must’ve slept with the CEO to get my position in the group.” Your voice was quiet. “I heard you say that Minnie probably hates me because I ‘replaced’ him.”

“Minnie?” Yohan whispered, raising an eyebrow.

“Let me tell you something, Park Yohan.” You leaned over, your breath brushing against his ear. “You don’t have to like me but I won’t take disrespect and I won’t let you tear this group down because you’re upset I’m a better leader than you.

“Besides, a real leader wouldn’t let his feelings get in the way of the group’s performance.” With that, you pulled away, not even sparing him another glance. You moved to where Gaeul was standing and motioned for her to help you fix your tie.

Yohan just stood there, staring at you in shock.

What the fuck?

He couldn’t even think about anything else—mainly on just what else could you have possibly heard.

But he didn’t get to think for long when it was Miracle’s time to perform. The group got on stage and Yohan felt weirdly uncomfortable. Almost all of the members looked at you for guidance—they didn’t even spare him a glance.

As each member got into position, Yohan glanced over at you. Your eyes were soft and resembled a doe. He took note that you didn’t even pay any attention to the people in the crowd but the members, giving each of them a wide smile.

You glanced at him and immediately your softness was gone. You simply nodded at him and fixed your head mic, making sure it was straight.

The metronome in the earpiece ticked before the song burst into the quiet scene. Everything was going well for the most part. While the crowd wasn’t too excited as it was the debut stage—a few people were getting interested.

Every members mic was on but you were certainly the highlight, managing to sing non stop, even singing your ad-libs.

As Yohan moved about stage, he heard the sound of fabric tearing. He didn’t even need to touch his legs to know his pants had ripped. Fucking cheap stakes! The pants were already tight on him, of course they ripped.

He continued dancing while subtly checking where the damage was done. His inner thigh… which was fine until he could tell it spread to the area of his crotch.

For fuck sakes. Yohan debated running off stage so he didn’t flash the audience as he got in a still position during your final chorus. As he mentally cursed himself while thinking of ways to subtly run back stage, you began tugging off your blazer.

You did it subtly enough that it looked as if it was apart of the performance. You didn’t even skip a second as you wrapped your blazer around Yohan’s waist, covering the growing split.

Yohan felt himself stiffen as you rest your head on his shoulder, finishing your line before Kihyun took over for the high note. This part of the song had all of the members frozen beside Kihyun.

Yohan tried to calm himself down as you stayed pressed against him, sacrificing your original position of standing beside him. He didn’t even know how you noticed his pants ripped. Everyone was so focused on completing the performance without a problem.

The rest of the song went fine, ending with each member’s picked out ending fairy. Yohan couldn’t even care too much, way too happy about not flashing anyone. He’d have to complain to the stylist today.

As the crowd clapped, the members released their pose and began to bow, thanking the audience. Yohan was about to say something when the sound of a whimper caught his attention.

He looked to his right to see you bawling…?

You took off your microphone as you covered your mouth to muffle your cries. Hyojin was almost immediately by your side, rubbing your back in comforting circles.

It didn’t take long for Doha to join, patting your head. Kihyun took a moment before coming over. Mingi looked nervous as he covered your body from the crowd’s face, almost like a way of giving you modesty.

Yohan just stared….

His group were comforting you as if they knew you for years now.

What the fuck?

After the group helped you walk off stage and everyone got changed into their regular clothing, Yohan was ready to just go home. He just hated that would still have to see you.

Everyone lived in a shared apartment, two boys in one room each. They had only moved in a few days ago and he was unlucky enough to room with you.

When they reached the apartments, Yohan was confused to see Kihyun taking some boxes away from his room. He walked in to see you on your side of the room, rubbing at your face. You glanced up when you heard him and frowned.

“Park Yohan-Ssi.” You said, he didn’t know how to feel with how respectful you were speaking to him—as if he was a coworker. “I’m switching rooms with Dodo—Doha. It… makes sense.”

“Makes sense?” Yohan asked, tilting his head. “What do you mean?”

You almost looked nervous before shaking your head. “A..anyway, I wanted to apologize… it was rude of me to say such things to you today right before a performance. I made you perform terribly.”

Yohan could only stare at you.

This…

How can someone be this….

He didn’t understand.

“I’ll go now…” you whispered, leaving the room quickly. Yohan didn’t even flinch.

Even if you had just apologized…

You weren’t wrong.

He was fucking up the group’s dynamic.

And it was all because he fucking hated you.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

After the 24 hrs performance, you had gained a wider audience than before. Gaeul had mentioned that there was a growth in female fans for you and she was certainly right. It was nice to see some fans that weren’t just thirsting over you but this somehow pushed you into more of the NSFW sphere of Miras.

You had went back to visit Hanniesmira only to see that she had started talking about you more. She had recently reposted another post of you.

The most repost was of a short clip of you at the amusement park. You were showing off the makeup the lady had done.

→ I wasn’t familiar with your game, bottom (Name) enthusiasts…

This account was of what looked to be a Kihyun biased Mira. You didn’t know to feel about there being ‘bottom enthusiasts’ but it was nice to see people appreciating your looks. Lots of comments even just innocently saying that you look great feminine.

You scrolled through some other posts when you came across a video from your debut. It was of the group at a variety show and you were standing together as the host was talking about something.

→ ??? I’ve never seen (Name) act like this before??

You didn’t understand what the Mira could’ve meant when you clicked on the video. It started off small as nothing out of the ordinary happened, just you fixing your position to stand straight. But then the clip replayed, with it zoomed in to your shoulder as you stood beside Yohan. The footage was slowed to show how when Yohan brushed up against you, you practically froze and immediately moved away.

@hanniesmira

↳ you didn’t know? Are you a new Mira?

@dohasflatass

↳ man, it was a whole thing! Yhn and (Name) didn’t interact with each other at all for the first six months

@hanniesmira

↳ six months? Naaaah, they didn’t get close until the group’s second year ㅋㅋㅋ

@hyoojinie

↳ dark times… now Yhn can’t leave (Name) alone ㅎㅎ I wonder why they hated each other so much

Before you could read anymore, Mingi came into your room. You shut off your phone and placed it down. You’d knew that it wasn’t exactly a secret for the fan base that you and Yohan weren’t chummy until the group’s second year.

You had honestly believed you’d never get close to him at all. But after your family emergency back then—Yohan practically changed.

Deep down, you constantly wondered if he would’ve still hated you if you didn’t go through that whole accident. You were deep in thought as you stood up and got into the motion to get ready for a shower.

Mingi being in the room didn’t even register until he suddenly spoke.

“Why can’t I tell anyone?”

You frowned, glancing over at Mingi who was now lying down on your bed. He was watching you get undressed. Even though you always tell him to look away—he doesn’t exactly listen to you anymore.

It had literally only been two days and Mingi acts as if he is your husband.

“It’s not smart. Hannie obviously can’t hear about it right now and it’s not fair to tell everyone but him.” You said, tugging off your boxers. “Just wait until after our album promotion… we’ll get a six month break so hopefully that’ll be a great time for Hannie to handle the news—if he really does like me.”

Mingi sighed. “You’re so naive, Hyung… you’d think you’re the youngest.”

You glared at him. “Just because I’m your boyfriend doesn’t mean you can speak so lax with me.”

“Why not?” Mingi smirked, his eyes glancing down at your bare lower half as you tugged off your shirt. “You’re lucky I haven’t showed you just how little honorifics mean to me. I’d like it if you’d call me Hyung in bed.”

“Mingi!” You whispered, eyes widen as you stared at him in shock. He was kinkier in ways you didn’t think was possible. But then again, you were a virgin… maybe this wasn’t that strange to be average adult.

“Can I take a shower with you?”

“Absolutely not.” You stormed off to the bathroom.

After showering, you came back to see Mingi was still on your bed. He turned his phone off immediately and gave you a grin. You only rolled your eyes, pulling out some pajamas.

You draped the towel on your shoulders as you pulled up your boxers. “Ah, I wanted to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I found a fan account of mines… Itsokokok. It’s so nice to see that I do have a fan account.” You said, glancing over at Mingi. He looked weirdly happy, a wide grin on his lips.

“Really? Of course you’d have a fan account.”

You smiled. “I guess. But, I think I know who runs the account.”

Mingi immediately sat up. “Wha—Ho—Who??”

You turned to fully face him, “Well I always knew the owner was a guy but it was weird how he talks about me. It’s like he knows me so well… but he hardly even responds to comments.” You smiled, walking over to Mingi.

He stared up at you, his eyes wide. You didn’t understand why he looked a bit nervous as you leaned down and kissed his nose.

“Who do you… think it is?” He asked.

“Kim Pilseung.”

Mingi blinked before raising an eyebrow, “who?”

“Kim Pilseung! The guy I signed the album for, I even gave him my number—”

“—excuse me?” Mingi stood up at that confession but you carried on, slipping on your shirt.

“But he hasn’t called me yet. Maybe he’s just shy.” You slipped on your shirt. “But it makes sense! He’s been around for a while—he’d know where to find pre debut videos of my past performances.”

“I’m still confused on why you gave a stranger your phone number.”

“I have two phones.” You said. “A work phone and a personal phone. I just gave him my work phone number.”

Mingi frowned. “What phone number do I have?”

“Work phone. Only my relatives have my personal phone number, I hardly use it because I don’t want a sasaeng to get the number.” You walked over to your night stand and opened the drawer, pulling out a phone that looked considerably older. “My personal! I’ve had it since I was in high school.”

You tossed it back inside, “it’s not like I use it often. It’s quite old, I need to buy a new one.”

Mingi only shook his head. “Anyway, I just want to know who the fuck Kim Pilseung even is. What the hell was he talking about when he mentioned a performance you did with someone else.”

“Don’t speak to me like that.” You said, sending him a swift glare. Mingi quickly straightened his posture as he apologized. “Good. Ah but Seungie was talking about the duo I was apart of. It was me and an old classmate of mines.”

“Seungie?” Mingi asked. “Wait, you were in a duo with a classmate?”

“Yea, cute right?” You giggled. “Mhm. My classmate and I performed together until he debuted in his company. We couldn’t perform together anymore after that. I almost gave up when that happened.”

You grabbed your (work) phone and pulled up your mother’s Instagram. It took a minute as you scrolled through the numerous photos she posted about you until you got to the first ever video she took.

It was another angle of the A.D.T.O.Y. Performance you did back in high school. This angle showed that you weren’t alone on stage but there was another boy beside you.

The caption was a bit crazy, but your mother was just an eccentric woman.

→ my baby performing!!! The voice of an angel, got it from me of course ㅋㅋㅋㅋ edit: Stop messaging me that song is inappropriate, he’s fully clothed!!! And yes, I know His friend is there too… I guess he sounds good too

“His name is Hong Garam.”

“He shares the same last name as you?”

You giggled, “yeah! That’s how we first started talking. Cute right?”

“We find different things cute.” Mingi rolled his eyes. “I’ve never heard of him, I guess he didn’t make it in the business.”

“You’re so childish. He has a stage name. He even—”

“Okay, okay, I care more about this Kim Pilseung. You think he’s the owner of your fan account, why do you care?”

“I want to thank him… is that weird?”

“No… I guess not, but honestly—you don’t need to.”

You frowned, “why not?”

Mingi sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to talk about another man right now, I was planning on having fun tonight.”

“Fun?”

“Never mind. I wanna sleep, lay down.” He didn’t even wait for you to respond as he pulled you to lay down on the bed. You didn’t even fight it, allowing him to manhandle you into his arms as he cuddled you.

“Minnie… I need to turn off the lights.”

“No.”

As he easily fell asleep, you couldn’t help but think back to the day everything changed between you and Yohan.

Two years ago

You were standing by the bridge, glancing up the moon. It was cool, the April weather finally starting warm up as May was approaching. You had to miss the group’s trip to the amusement park due to a family emergency and you were trying hard to not think about it.

It was silly. It was just an amusement park anyway…

Your gaze was on the water beneath the bride as you stood up on your tippy toes to get a better look.

It was almost calming when you were suddenly tackled to the ground. A loud scream left your throat as you immediately tried to fight against your assailant when you came face to face with… Yohan?

You stared up at him with wide eyes before a frown pulled on your lips. “Yohan-Ssi, what are—?”

“—are you crazy?!”

You blinked. “Crazy?”

Yohan glared down at you as he gripped your wrists. “Were you seriously about to jump? I know everything seems terrible right now but you can’t.. you can’t just leave the others… they’d be crushed.”

“But I wasn’t—”

“—even I’d… I don’t know what I’d do if you were gone.” His voice had gone soft, his grip loosening. “They can’t.. no, we can’t go on without you. I know I’m such a dick and nothing I say can change that but please… let me make it up to you, no matter how many years it takes. Don’t leave us, Hong (Name)… we can be your new family—especially after losing—”

“—Park Yohan, my family didn’t die.” You said, interrupting him.

“Huh?” Yohan opened his eyes, they were surprisingly wet with tears. “But the nurse said they died at the scene…?”

“The car accident wasn’t anything serious.” You shook your head. “I had to come for my mom so they can patch a cut she has on her forehead. Only the car got damaged.” You frowned. “The nurse must’ve gotten me mixed up with someone else.”

“So… your mom and brother didn’t die in a car crush?”

“No. I don’t even have a brother.” You stared at him up, tilting your head. “Besides… there’s a net attached to the bridge, it’d catch me if I really did want to jump.”

Yohan simply blinked. “So… so I…”

“You cared enough to run after me?” You whispered, a slight grin on your lips. “Y’know, this wouldn’t have happened if you visited when the other members came.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.” You laughed. “So, is that it? Will you start ignoring me now?”

Yohan got off of you, staring down at you. He glanced over the bridge—possibly checking to see if you weren’t lying before shaking his head.

“No. I guess I just needed a push to be honest. I meant every word.”

It was your turn to stare at him in shock. Your lips parted as you tried to speak but only a gasp left you.

It was from that moment, that Park Yohan had realized how bad he—no, the group—needed you.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Kim Pilseung still hadn’t called you—you were beginning to think maybe he didn’t want to. But then again, he was shy when speaking to you. Perhaps he was just nervous.

You were in the dance studio with the other members after a long day of practicing. Mingi and Yohan looked to be acting normal so you were semi happy. Though there would be instances of Mingi would purposely touch your waist in ways he’d never done before.

Luckily Yohan didn’t seem to be taking the bait, yet…

“You keep staring at your phone,” Kihyun suddenly said, wiping at the sweat on his neck. “Waiting for someone? Maybe that guy you visited all the time?”

Mingi immediately sat up from the floor, staring straight at you. “What guy? When was this?”

“When Hyung, Hyojin and I shared an apartment together,” Kihyun said, unknowing to the inner turmoil he was sending Mingi into. “Hyung would leave at 10:00 pm sharp and come back with this guy. The guy was always overly dressed—hat and face mask. He wouldn’t even speak, just dropped off a sleepy Hyung before leaving like the flash.”

Hyojin hummed. “I thought he was drugging Hyung but it seems Hyung just has a natural clock.”

You frowned, “that’s a bit embarrassing.” By natural clock, it simply meant your body automatically shut down by midnight. No matter how hard you tried—you would practically drop like a rock into slumber. You only managed to stay up to 12:30 am, once. Back in middle school no less.

“Who was he anyway? You stopped meeting with him right before we moved into double apartments?” Kihyun asked.

“Ah. Hong Garam.” Only Mingi seemed bothered by this while the other members only stared at you in confusion.

“Who the fuck is that?” Doha asked.

“Hyung’s old classmate,” Mingi answered, his face tense as his jaw tightened. Shit, you’d have explaining to do later.

“He’s also Hong Hwan.”

That seemed to cause Hyojin to sit up. “Hong Hwan?!”

Even Kihyun seemed shocked. “Hong Hwan?! I’ve met Hong Hwan and I didn’t even know!” He cursed to himself, shaking his head.

Mingi groaned, “who is that?!”

“Hong Hwan,” Doha answered. “A popular actor. Well he used to be an idol but he’s basically more of an actor nowadays. His group disbanded but he has solo songs.”

“Do you guys still talk?” Mingi asked. “You haven’t been leaving the dorm.”

You nodded. “He’s busy with promotions for his latest drama. I can let you guys meet him when he’s free.”

“I’d love that, Hyung!” Kihyun immediately said, a grin on his lips.

The other members chimed in agreement while Mingi only huffed, shaking his head. You sighed. After a few minutes of brief conversation, Gaeul walked into the studio with a grin on her face.

“Hey, Hey~! So tomorrow you guys will record content but it’ll be different from normal!” She said, giggling in excitement. “It’ll be a roleplay—like a family type thing. There’ll be two parents, three kids and the other is one of the character’s boyfriend.”

“Like a drama?” Doha asked.

“Yes yes. The whole plot is that the parents and younger brothers don’t approve of their eldest daughter’s boyfriend because he looks like a gang member.”

“Daughter? So one of us has to play a girl?” You asked.

“Technically two girls, as there’s a mom. Anyway, we allowed Miras to pick all of your roles! We did a poll on Twitter. So first, the boyfriend will be played by Mingi!”

Mingi perked up at that, “really?”

“Yeah, yeah. Ah, the younger brothers will be played by Yohan and Doha. You can pretend to be any age you want.” She scrolled on her phone as she hummed slightly. “And now for the daughter, Hyojin will be the daughter—is that okay, Hyojin-Ah?”

Hyojin hummed. “I’m fine with it.”

“Great. That leaves (Name) and Kihyun.”

You kinda mentally prepared to be the dad—it was obvious. Miras constantly called you Miracle’s dad! But you never thought they’d vote Kihyun as the mom—he wasn’t the type. Honestly you were shocked Doha wasn’t the boyfriend as his whole assigned persona was a bad boy.

Maybe Miras wanted a little change as well.

“Kihyun was voted as the dad and (Name) as the mom! The van will pick you guys up at noon tomorrow, be ready! I’ll see you guys later.” With that, she left.

You blinked. That was a surprise.

But a welcomed one at that.

The group all went home after that. You expected Mingi to immediately start questioning you about Hwan but he seemed to have forgotten all about it. He only sprawled out on the couch and began watching a random Thai drama. You gave him a quick kiss good night before leaving to your bedroom.

You pulled out your phone and began checking Twitter again, wanting to see the polls. It wasn’t anything too crazy—no one seemed mad at the results. In fact a lot of Miras were excited to see Mingi as a ‘bad boy.’

A few giddy to see Hyojin as a girl.

As you scrolled you came across an older video—it looked to be from the group’s second year. The groups first ever festival performance. You remembered it was for a college festival.

The video looked to be off the ending. Each member was walking to their ending position. The song playing was ‘Sweet Dreams’ so each member got down to the ground and laid their head on the other’s shoulder, pretending to fall asleep.

After the final verse, each member began to ‘wake up’ as they waved at the fans. But when it reached Kihyun, second to last, he didn’t get to get up because your head was still resting on his shoulder. He reached over to tap your shoulder only to find out you were fast asleep.

He immediately began laughing and comfortingly patted your head as the other members turned around to see what was wrong.

You vaguely remembered why you had fallen asleep—it was midnight by the time the performance was over. It was a miracle you even managed to finish the performance when you remembered being sleepy the entire time.

A dip in your bed caught your attention as Mingi appeared beside you. He looked tired as he laid down, patting the spot beside him. You only rolled your eyes but laid down, immediately cuddling up in his arms.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“I think I make a pretty girl.”

You glanced over to see Hyojin already fully dressed in his girl costume. Because his hair was already a bit long, the hair stylist only added extensions to make them reach his shoulders. His outfit wasn’t too feminine by all means. A pink t-shirt and shorts.

He had on light makeup—one a teen girl would normally wear. You gave him grin.

“Cute~ My daughter is cute.” You teased, giggling as Hyojin rolled his eyes. The others were already done for the most part, waiting out in the living room. Filming was taking place in a random house the company rented out.

You were almost finished—the hairstylist simply fixing your wig. Dressed in a more feminine outfit—you wore a fluffy white sweater with a black pants that disguised itself as a flowing skirt.

The wig the hairstylist was putting on you was black that reached your back. It looked cheap but with the curls the stylist put it made it have more volume. Your makeup was minimal and hardly noticeable.

Hyojin hummed, joining you by the makeup stand. “You look like you could be someone’s mom.” He said, laughing when you glared at him through the mirror.

The both of you join the others where a staff member is clipping their mics to their clothing. Yohan was dressed in a soccer uniform while Doha still had on a school uniform with fake glasses.

Kihyun was dressed exactly like a dad. Rectangular glasses sat on the bridge of his nose while his hair was swiped back with gel. He’s dressed in a polo shirt and black slacks.

But they didn’t matter too much to you—your members always looked good. No, who caught your eye was, of course, Choi Mingi.

His blonde hair was shaggy and purposefully messy, a bit of dark eyeliner that sharpened his fox like eyes. He wore a black leather jacket over a white t-shirt and black ripped jeans. He was fixing his clip on mic when he gazed over at you.

You watched as his eyes slowly widen with recognition as he took you in. You felt your cheeks burn as you wanted to look away but kept staring back at him. Did he think you looked good? Hopefully you looked good.

Filming started shortly after Gaeul reminded every one of the plot—you were all free to improvise basically everything. You sat down on the couch near Kihyun, leaning against his shoulder. His arm slid underneath your back as his hand let itself rest at the slight curve of your waist.

Even if you didn’t view Kihyun romantically, you couldn’t help but blush a little.

The little roleplay went fine for the most part, you acted like the ‘mediating mother’ who didn’t necessarily hate the boyfriend while the father and brothers hated him.

It was fun for the most part. Though throughout the roleplay, you could notice a strange tension rising between Yohan and Mingi. You began to watch them nervously as they faked argued. It was started to feel a bit too real with the words they were using.

“And how can you even be good for her—?” Yohan started.

“—Hey, Hey, you act like I’m ten!” Hyojin interrupted.

“Yeah, you’re so controlling,” Mingi chuckled. “What makes you the one who gets to choose for her?”

“Because—!”

“—this so annoying, she’s not worth this hassle. what if I take your mom instead will you still be this angry? She’s hotter anyway.”

Everyone blinked as they stared at Mingi. It took a second before Kihyun realized he should act as he immediately stood up and began spouting some nonsense while you could only stare. You felt hot as you couldn’t even come up with a line but only bury your face in your sweater.

You’d kill him later.

Shooting ended not even twenty minutes later. None of the staff seemed to be mentioning the whole ‘she’s hotter’ sentence. You wondered if they would just edit that out as you handed over the mic to a staff member. Each member looked ready to go home and eat—you included.

You need to take your wig off however so you began walking to the hairstylist when a hand grabbed your sweater and tugged you away. You didn’t even get a chance to scream before you were slammed into a storage closet.

It didn’t take a genius to know who had dragged you here.

“Mingi—can you be a bit gentler next time?” You whispered, sighing softly.

“Sorry, sorry.” Mingi gave you a cheeky grin before slowly guiding you rest your back against the wall. “But you look too good right now… I want to kiss you.”

You blushed slightly. “You look good too.” You shyly whispered, glancing up at him. Your hands slowly reached up and rest on his shoulders, gripping at his jacket before pulling him further down. Mingi didn’t need to be told twice as he eagerly kissed you, his hands grasping your waist.

The kiss was intense, Mingi kissing you like he wanted to eat you. His fingers dug into the waistband of your pants before managing to tug them down. They pooled around your feet as your eyes widen in shock. You pulled away from the kiss and stared up at him in shock.

“In.. in here?!” You whisper-yelled.

Mingi hummed, undeterred as he began pressing light kisses on your neck. “Just this once. I won’t ask for something like this again. Please, Noona?”

Your body shivered at the title, a strangled gasp leaving your throat as he teased the tip of your cock. Wait when did he pull down your underwear? Any part of you that didn’t want to do this was pushed down at the immediate pleasure of him teasing your cock.

No way you can wait until you get home now.

“Okay… just this once.” You whispered.

Mingi immediately began unbuckling his jeans with speed you thought was impossible. He still kissed and nipped at your neck—still careful to not leave any marks. You bit your bottom lip to muffle any moans as he gripped your thighs, lifting you up.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, nervous for how this would work. Wasn’t he supposed to prep you? But he was quite big, how long was he supposed to prep you for?

As you tried to calm yourself down, you felt his cock rub against yours. He had pulled up your sweater to show off your stomach. You shuddered and glanced down to see him line his cock right on top of yours.

“What’s this..?” You whispered, gasping as he began to slowly rub against you. “I thought you… were gonna put it in.”

“In here?” He asked, an incredulous expression on his face. “No way, not for your first time. We can get off like this. Just let me lead, Noona.” You blushed again as you meekly nodded.

His hands slid up to your waist as he pressed his body fully against yours. Your cock was now firmly against his—unable to slip away. Mingi pressed a soft kiss on your collarbone before pulling away just a bit to see your face.

“I’ll make it quick… so they don’t get suspicious.” He said, though you could tell that he would’ve dragged this out if there wasn’t the threat of getting caught. “Don’t make a sound, I don’t want anyone hearing you.”

It was slow at first. His hips bucked forward as your toes curled, his thicker cock dwarfed yours as they rubbed together. It burned a bit as there was no lube to make the friction smoother. Mingi seemed to notice this as he spit into his hand and rubbed it against both cocks. You tried not to be grossed out.

Sex was messy anyway.

He started out slow before speeding up. You almost wished he actually fucked you. This must’ve been how he usually fucks anyway. The tight grip on your waist as he slammed forward, your body shaking from the force.

The pre-cum leaking from your cock began to coat both cocks, allowing for an easier friction. Your voice was beginning to get louder as you buried your face into his neck, clawing at the jacket for some type of purchase.

“I bet you’re tight… so tight, Noona. Next time, I wanna fuck your pussy, can I? Can I, Noona?” He whispered, into your ear, chuckling when you only answered with a high pitched moan. “Do you like that? Calling your hole a pussy?”

His hips suddenly stilled as you cried in disappointment. “C’mon, Noona. I’m doing all the work… you can answer my question. Do you like it?”

You whined before nodding your head.

“Ah, ah, use your words. You’re an adult.”

“So mean…”

“What was that, Noona? You want me to stop?”

“No, no! I…” you whined, your cock aching for release. “I like it.. please I wanna cum.”

“See~” he cooed, “that wasn’t too hard. You’re such a good girl, Noona.”

His nails dig into your skin as he slammed his hips up, your cocks rubbing together once more. Your moans immediately leave you as you feel yourself reach your peak. You cum not soon after, Mingi’s name leaving your lips in a pathetic whimper.

Mingi follows right after, biting down on your bare shoulder. Luckily the cum didn’t reach the sweater. It coated both of your stomachs as he loosened his grip on you. You both breathed heavily as he glanced over at you.

“You really are hotter.” He said, a slight smirk on his lips.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

After that whole storage closet incident, you and Mingi have finally felt a bit more comfortable sex wise. In short, you guys were humping each other practically every night. Which led tonight: you were sitting on his lap, wearing only your boxers with a t-shirt.

You had been watching him gaming when he suddenly asked for a reward for beating his high score. You refused at first since you had wanted to go to bed an hour ago but he had begged you to watch him play.

It only took one puppy dog pout before you conceded and allowed him to choose a reward.

Of course the reward was you grinding on top of him. Your ass was directly over his dick. You could tell he wasn’t wearing any boxers underneath his sweatpants. It began to harden beneath your ass as you slowly grind on top of him.

“You’re so sexy, Hyung. I’m not sure if I can take this anymore,” Mingi groaned, reaching over to grasp your waist. You shivered.

“You.. don’t have to… I’m ready.”

Mingi blinked. “Really..? I can..?”

Your hips stopped as you blushed slightly, nodding your head. “Yeah… humping each other is fun but I wanna feel you.. i..inside me.” You thought you’d die of embarrassment.

But that almost seemed to send Mingi over the edge as he immediately flipped your positions to where you were laying on the couch. You stared up at him shock as he pulled down your boxers, your cock flopping free.

You couldn’t help but feel excited at how eager he was. You shyly opened your legs wider so Mingi could have easy access. Just as he was about to kiss your stomach, your phone began ringing.

You immediately shot up, ignoring Mingi’s whines as you reached for your phone. People hardly called you so you always immediately checked. It took a second for the name to fully register but when it did, a grin pulled on your lips.

홍가람

Hong Garam.

Three years ago

Mingi was a bit camera shy when it came to variety shows. He hardly looked into the camera as he just let the other members talk until he was called upon. Because of that, his gaze was focused on the members—mainly you, really.

So he noticed how you practically froze up when Yohan accidentally brushed against you. He’d never seen you react like that before. If he wasn’t on camera he would’ve said something but he decided to do something less disruptive.

Because everyone was standing in a huddle than a line, it was easy for him to slip between Kihyun and Doha to get to you. He stopped though—wanting to make it seem like he was just shifting around. After a minute or so, he moved again, gently pushing you further to the right so he could fit between you and Yohan.

Yohan didn’t seem to notice at all while you glanced over at Mingi, a confused look on your face. But Mingi didn’t look at you, knowing that if he did he would’ve fold immediately. He just stared at the host—pretending he was paying attention the entire time.

If he did glance over at you, he would’ve noticed the slight blush on your cheeks as you smiled to yourself.

The whole idea for a family drama thing was definitely from SKZ lmao. Leading heavily into feminization but Mingi has multiple kinks, just wait and see

Tag list: @tehyunnie @euthymiko @iwishtobeacrow @onementally-unstabel-kid @jaxyy219 @hoshimochicchi @honey-valentin3 @bensontrechic @ofclyde @star-3214 @love-kha1 @chill-guy-but-cooler @tomoeroi @the-ultimate-librarian @mooncarvers-world @mello-life25 @yuzuukix @smellwell @remdayz @cherry-blossoms-187 @kiiyoooo @secretivemessenger @me-when-life @bangbangdevotee @bangchansdirty-slut @chaevvonders @jjsmeowthie @diamondnightsky23 @1-800-darktea @anchoredphoenix

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

been loving the jack abbott fics soooo much!!!

A request for a potential fic about Jack. I was thinking something along the lines of his wife is maybe in the Peds/Psych department and comes to consult in the ER sometimes. The newbies don't know her as Jack's wife, but just the kind peds/Psych doc and then something something they discover she's Jack's wife and they're all like "how did that happen?"

thank uuu!!! this is a good one!!

The Other Dr Abbott

Pairing: Dr Jack Abbott x Wife!Reader

“Vitals are stable but he’s swinging between psychosis and charm like a damn metronome,” Santos muttered, watching the patient over the rim of her coffee cup.

Jack Abbott stood by the trauma bed, expression unreadable, arms crossed, as their patient—a shirtless man in his 30s with wild eyes and blood still drying under his nails—grinned up at the fluorescent lights like they were divine.

Dr. Whitaker explained the patient's history to Dr. Abbott, “He assaulted a pedestrian, bit a paramedic, and started quoting Shakespeare to the defibrillator. I think we’re out of our depth here.”

“Page psych,” Jack said without looking up.

“Already did,” Santos replied. “They said Dr. Abbot’s on call.”

Javadi looked up sharply. “But he’s standing right here.”

Jack sighed. “No. The other Dr. Abbot.”

Santos blinked. “There’s... two?”

Whitaker’s brows furrowed. “Is she your sister or something?”

But before they could interrogate further, the doors swung open.

In walked her—the hospital’s most requested psychiatrist. Elegant. Kind. Intimidating in the quietest way possible. She had a pen behind her ear, a folder under one arm, and a calm confidence that silenced the room the moment she entered.

“Hi,” she said gently. “I heard you needed psych?”

The patient lit up. “Ohhhh. There she is. Finally. Someone beautiful around here.”

Jack’s jaw ticked. “Watch it.”

The patient smirked. “What? Just saying. You all bring me the mean doctor with the wavey hair, but then this goddess walks in? Tell me you see it. She's the moon and you’re... I dunno. A pencil.”

Javadi bit her lip. Santos turned away, grinning.

The psychiatrist pulled on gloves with practiced grace. “I’m here to help, Mr. Reed. Can you tell me how you’re feeling right now?”

“Like I’ve seen heaven,” he said smoothly. “And heaven is you. Are you single?”

Jack stepped forward. “She’s married.”

The patient cocked his head, eyes narrowing like he suddenly understood something far more interesting. “Wait a second... no way.”

“What?” Santos asked.

The patient pointed at Jack, then her. “You’re married. You two. I see it now. That stare. The way you hovered when I called her beautiful? You’re totally married.”

Silence.

Then:

“She’s your wife?” Whitaker all but gasped, looking at Jack like he’d just revealed he was an alien.

Jack didn’t blink. “Yeah.”

Santos’s mouth dropped open. “Hold on—how long has that been a thing?”

“Seven years,” she answered calmly, scribbling notes onto her chart.

Javadi stared. “You mean to tell me we’ve been working beside both of you this whole time and never knew?”

“We keep it professional,” she said, glancing at Jack, who was clearly trying to sink through the floor.

The patient beamed, delighted. “This is way better than when I saw a guy get tasered in the cafeteria.”

“Please sedate him,” Jack muttered.

His wife smirked. “Not yet. He’s lucid enough to spill tea.”

Santos laughed so hard she had to turn around. Whitaker looked like he was trying to solve an algebra problem with no numbers.

“But—but she’s so nice,” he mumbled.

“She is,” Jack said flatly. “And she married me anyway. Try not to think too hard about it.”

As she moved to the side of the bed, the patient winked at her. “I’m just saying... you could’ve done better.”

Jack leaned down, eyeing him coldly. “Say that again and I will intubate you awake.”

Everyone blinked.

The patient raised both hands. “Okay damn. The wave’s kinda hot now that I get the context.”

Javadi crossed her arms. “Well, now I get why he punched that radiologist last year for calling her sweetheart.”

Jack didn’t deny it.

[astraloverflow]

Good Cop, Bad Cop (They're Both Bad)

Basically cop!König and cop!Ghost pull you over Since my current König post is going to take a while, I decided to cook up this little post for you guys, I hope you enjoy it :) If there's enough traction, maybe I'll make a part 2, lemme know what you guys think <3 TW: power dynamics oh my, manipulation, implied smut, implied non-con/ dub-con WC: 4046 MDNI

The asphalt stretches ahead, darkness swallowing far beyond your line of sight. Your dim, aging headlights carve a soft path through the void for your eager eyes to make out, their yellow glow flickering against the cracked asphalt; trees loom on either side, their twisted branches reaching, almost as if to grab you. The night is thick and quiet— too quiet. Each bump in the road rattles through your hands on the wheel, a reminder that you’re alone out here. Or at least, you should be.

You push your foot on the gas, watching the speedometer climb up, noticing an abandoned car on the side of the dirt as you whiz by it. It’s customary to see at least one on these long deserted back roads. You’ve always wondered what ends up happening to these cars that are left behind by their owners. Do they rust away, staying on these streets? Do they get towed away? Broken into? Stolen?

You don’t think much more of it and continue tearing up the road, tapping your finger idly on the steering wheel, mimicking the music beating loudly through the speakers, wanting to get home as fast as possible. You’ve never been a fan of driving at night, especially not this late and alone. 

Suddenly, the headlights of this so-called abandoned vehicle come to life in the distance, flashes of red and blue catch your attention from the rearview mirror, and your heart sinks in dread, “fuck.” 

The police car eases its way off the gravel that lines the side of the street and onto the concrete. For a moment, the car gets smaller and smaller, your speed creating distance between the array of flashes, and you hope that this distance consumes the car straight out of your sight. To your dismay, the vehicle starts to speed its way to you, lights becoming more pronounced and more difficult to ignore. 

You curse yourself and pivot your foot from the gas onto the break, slowing your vehicle down steadily. Due to the sheer speed you were driving at, it takes a moment for the car to decelerate. The dial on the speedometer shifts counterclockwise and you watch as the numbers slowly crawl down, as if dying. After a few seconds, the car is slowed enough to pull it onto the shoulder of the road, tires crunching as they make contact with the gravel, the car rolling to a stop. Your heart is pitter-pattering in your chest, and your hand that was shaking from the sudden rush of adrenaline reaches for the transmission to push upwards on the knob, parking the car, doors unlocking with a click at the gear change. Your foot lifts off the break, and the car steadies itself with a small roll, tires locking. Instinctively pressing down the red and white triangle button on top of your audio system, the hazard lights flick on, imitating the tick of a metronome to illuminate the crushed rocks beneath the vehicle slightly. You’ve never so much as stolen anything before, being pulled over and having to face authorities in these conditions makes your stomach sink into a pit. As you ruminate, the police cruiser slows behind you, parking itself, lights still flashing wildly. You lament the situation, thoughts flooding your mind about how stupid it was for the cops to be here in the first place. It’s practically empty almost all of the time on these backroads, especially at this hour of the night; it doesn’t make sense to you why any kind of law enforcement would wait for a driver to pass by just to nail them with a ticket.

You almost forget that you’ve been pulled over, sucked into your thoughts, until you see a large figure exit the vehicle from the rearview mirror. Your heart jumps at this, and you quickly reach for your glove compartment to grab your vehicle registration, closing the door with a thud. A sharp knock at the window makes you jump and turn your head. He was fast, you thought you had at least a few more seconds. The officer bends at the hip after a moment, leering into the car, and you push down on the window switch, watching the glass disappear into the driver's side door.

You strain your eyes trying to make out his face in the dark, noticing that it is obscured by some sort of cloth, the only part visible being his eyes. You’ve never seen an officer hide their face before, let alone with a piece of fabric.

“License and registration,” he says, accent cutting through the silence like a knife, reaching your ears. 

“One second, sorry,” you stammer, grabbing your wallet in the middle console, unzipping it and pulling out a plastic card. You hand him both the registration papers and your license, and he takes them, gloved fingers brushing against your own for a fleeting second. Your heart jumps at this contact, already overstimulated by being pulled over— you retract your hand, placing both your palms onto your lap, beginning to think of excuses.

He stares down at the card, holding it in his large hand. Your name leaves his lips as he repeats it, reading it off of the thin piece of plastic, “Do you know how fast you were going?” His eyes flick up, boring into your own. The dark makes it hard for your brain to construct his eyes, but the light from your dashboard is enough to see the cold expression he holds in them, blue irises a thin line around his blown pupils.

“Uhm.. no officer,” you hesitate, a bit quieter than you had hoped for your words to come out. 

“About thirty over,” he states matter of factly before looking into your car, eyes catching your outfit, “What are you doing out this late?” 

You feel your mouth go dry at this. The truth is you were just at a house party, celebrating the end of a successful-ish semester. It was about 1:30 am now as you sat in your car trying to come up with any semblance of a believable story. You told yourself you weren’t going to drink, not having a ride back home, being forced to take yourself back to your place through the outskirts of the city at the end of the night. You told yourself. You even made sure to reject any and all alcohol until a close friend of yours urged you, drunkenly begging you to take a shot to celebrate finishing classes. “One can’t hurt, just drink some water after, you’ll be fine, please, for me?” Your friend’s words ring in your ears, and you wallow at yourself for being guilted into taking two more after their initial coercion. It’s been an hour since that, but fear creeps up at the thought of a breathalyzer test. Although you felt sober, you knew the test would not reflect that, and would get you in trouble with the bulky officer staring down at you from your left. It was best to just not act suspicious, take the ticket, and reap the consequences to your bank account later.

“I was just at a friend’s house. Stayed up too late watching a movie, so I decided I needed to get home,” you respond, lying through your teeth, hoping it was convincing enough, feigning a small smile nervously. 

The man hums in thought and you feel relief, thinking he bought your lie. He pauses before speaking up again, “Wearing that?”

You look down at your outfit, a pair of jeans and a tiny top that did little to preserve your dignity. You wish you brought a sweater. Arms almost immediately wrap around your waist, insecurity filling you whole. “Yes...” You murmur, hoping he won’t question you further than that. 

He breaks eye contact and motions towards the vehicle parked a few feet behind yours, almost like he was calling someone. You watch from the rearview mirror as another figure steps out, this time from the passenger's seat. Their silhouette looked almost entirely black, except for the white on their face that reflected the red and blue lights spinning on the top of the car. The figure’s boots made contact with the ground and crunched softly as they made a few strides towards the other man. “Ran a check, looks good on my end. Yours?” His voice was deep, with an accent behind it that you could only assume was from somewhere in England, something rough and commanding in its tone.

“Can’t say the same,” the taller man speaks out, eyes flickering to yours for a brief moment before quickly shifting away to meet the man standing beside him. The officer with the white mask makes his way toward the other, and as he closes the gap, your mind scrambles to make sense of his appearance. Squinting, you notice that the mask covering his face is white, with strange grooves etched into it that resemble the jagged shape of a skull, deep and haunting. His eyes are like dark, void-like holes that seem to bore right through you as he passes, there’s something unnatural about the way he carries himself, something predatory, and you can’t seem to pry your eyes away.

“What’ve we got ‘ere?” The shorter man, not to imply that his height was by any means unimpressive, chimes, his voice oddly casual. He leans towards the open window of the car, placing one forearm on the side of the metal encasing you safely, almost like a prison.

“Suspected intoxication,” the hooded man speaks up, his tone flat and emotionless. His words hang in the air, each one settling in your chest with an increasing heaviness. The other hums, eyes scanning you once more, but unlike the cold blue ones of the officer standing behind him, his gaze isn’t as icey, there’s something deeper in it, something you can’t quite put your finger on.

“You been drinkin’ sweetheart?” His voice is laced with a syrupy sweetness that makes your stomach flip. The term ‘sweetheart’ rolls off his tongue like a curse, and the word itself feels out of place as if he’s using it to control the situation, to unsettle you. The question hits you hard, and your stomach drops with the weight of an anchor. The unease in your gut tightens into full-blown dread. Something about this doesn’t sit right with you. This isn’t how any regular traffic stop should feel, is it?

When you don’t immediately answer, his voice shatters the silence again, colder now, sharper, “Talk to me.” 

You feel your throat tighten, words barely escaping your lips as you answer meekly, “I haven’t..” It’s almost a whisper, barely audible against the growing noise in your head. The man at your window continues to stare at you, eyes piercing, trying to get a read of the situation, searching for any information he could use against you.

“Ghost.” The voice calls from behind him, a demand. The man you now know as Ghost turns, his posture stiff, his gaze flicking to the other looming behind him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he dismisses, voice laced with annoyance. Shaking his head with a slight scoff, turning back to face you, his eyes crinkle in the corner softly, and you imagine that behind his odd display of a face, is a smile— though something about this situation makes it feel like a threat.

Watching this play out is frightening, to say the least. You feel your pulse quicken, and every second that passes tightens the knot in your stomach. You don’t know if this is the experience most people face when pulled over at night, or if it was just your terrible luck. You don’t have any prior experience to compare it to, but something in your heart screamed at you that this was wrong, something was terribly wrong here.

You stare at Ghost, now leaning forward slightly as he tilts his head. His voice breaks through your racing thoughts, low and silky, “Why doncha step outta the vehicle for us?”

Your body freezes. You aren’t entirely sure why you reacted this way; regardless of what it was, the suffocating feeling, the lead weight against your chest did not waver. Every single instinct inside you is telling you to get out of this situation. 

“Did’ja hear me?” His voice shatters through the silence again, sharper now, and the calm, almost bored tone from before disappears, replaced with a command, “Turn the ignition off, n’ step out, love.”

The instructions linger in the air like a final warning, and despite every fibre of your being telling you to refuse, your shaking hands reach for your keys nestled in the ignition and you twist, the engine dying, along with the lights at the head of your vehicle. Holding the keys in your hand, you step out of the car, hesitantly. Ghost steps back to give you space to open the car door and exit. You stand and immediately notice how he dwarfs your height, looking down at you through his skull mask, arms crossed over his police vest. The red and blue spinning on top of the police car creates a cast of colours, allowing you to still make out the scene in front of you despite the darkness that engulfs the scenery. You notice a dark streak across the white letters that read out ‘POLICE’ across his chest. In blue light, it looks almost black, but as the red circles back around, you make out a faint scarlet colour. 

Blood? 

Your eyes focus on it, your heart skipping a beat. Though the thought barely forms in your head before he speaks again, “Hands against the car, love, turn around.”

You blink, not understanding or comprehending the sudden demand, “What?” You ask, almost automatically, surprised at his sudden order.

“Gonna search’cha. Turn around, hands on the hood of the car. It’s standard protocol, isn’t that right König?” He remarks, turning to look at the man behind him. His words are so casual, so rehearsed, and it takes you a second, but you're suddenly hyper-aware of the looming presence of the larger man, König, who just nods in approval. 

You aren’t well versed in what your rights are exactly, despite seeing countless posts online urging you to become aware in case some cop tries to take advantage of your ignorance. You think back on those moments you’ve scrolled past and feel regret, maybe you should have been more cautious, should have taken some more time to read up on it. The thought of outright saying no flicks through your mind, but it’s gone just as quickly as it came; you’re not entirely sure if you have the right to refuse, so you comply and turn to face your vehicle slowly, moving your arms to place your trembling hands on the hood, still warm from the engine. “Good girl,” he whispers with a growl from behind you.

The words make your skin crawl, sending a wave of nausea through your gut. You want to turn around, stand your ground, and demand answers. You want to scream at him, ask why he pulled you over in the first place, especially here, in this deserted, dark stretch of road. But your body is frozen, your limbs heavy with a deep, paralyzing dread. You can’t speak. You can’t move.

As you find the courage to open your mouth and protest, a wall of muscle presses up behind you— the air is forced out of your lungs in a sharp, startled gasp, and all that escapes your throat is a choked sound, trapped and desperate. It dies instantly at the pressure as if your body knows it’s powerless to stop what’s happening. A nudge from something stiff, something heavy, something warm, presses against your lower back, and the sensation almost makes you fall forward, but you keep your hands on the car, shakily. “What are you doing?” You ask, heat rising to your ears, your voice quiet and cracking, breaking under the weight of the situation.

“Just gonna check ‘ya angel, no need to panic.” Ghost’s voice is smooth as his hands start to move along your sides, gliding over your trembling skin with cold precision as he pushes his hips into you, eliciting another small yelp from you that serves to bring heat straight to your face at the feeling of his hardness against your spine. He then slowly moves down each leg, bending at the knees to pat down your thighs, not before grabbing at the skin, and moving to your ankles. You’re humiliated, and you have to stifle the urge to ask him why this is even necessary. Your top is small, and your pants are tight against your skin, they’d be able to see if you had anything in your pockets, concealed away. His leather-clad hands are along your body. And then, he stands back up, his hands lingering near your stomach, just shy of touching your chest. You can feel the tension hanging between you two, the thin line between a normal pat-down and something much worse. His fingers hover, almost hesitant as if testing the waters, “You don’t mind, do ya?” 

You blink at this, your head spinning. Is this normal? He asked for permission, didn’t he? Maybe you’re overthinking. Maybe he’s just doing his job, and you’re just nervous. But the doubt gnaws at you. You’ve heard of cops acting imposing, standing tall with a panoptic gaze, demanding submission without ever needing to speak a word. You’ve heard stories of them using that authority to cross boundaries with people— no, to break them entirely.

You’ve always struggled with confrontation. You’ve tended to let things slide before and made excuses for bad behaviour. It’s like a habit, but this, this is different. This is too much. The unease deepens into something darker. Something inside you screams to fight back, to speak up, to demand that they stop.

But all that comes out is a whisper, barely audible, “I’m a little uncomfortable.” The words feel weak, but you force them out, your voice trembling. You hope that’s enough— that the honesty will be enough to make him stop.

He was teetering the edge of patting you down, and groping you; you’re not sure if this is what a standard pat down is considered to be. You’ve seen people get checked at the airport after stepping through the scanners, lighting up with a flash, at the indication that something was out of place— it was quick, fast, non-invasive. But this. This felt like he was about to grab at your very soul, so tightly that it might as well burst in his hands, deflating any sense of pride or dignity you had left with a harsh crack and spill of the contents. “Poor thing’s uncomfortable,” Ghost murmurs with a frown, turning to look at König.

The other man doesn’t say anything at first, his towering figure casting a long shadow over you, but when he speaks, his voice is commanding, “Enough, Ghost.” Relief surges through you as Ghost steps back, his lips curling slightly in irritation as he clicks his tongue, finally, some distance. But your pulse doesn’t slow; it races, your heart still pounding in your ears, as the confusion and fear hang thick in the air, choking the space around you. Maybe they’ve decided to let you go now, but something in you tells you this isn't over. 

Your thoughts are silenced as your hands are suddenly grabbed from where they were resting, being maneuvered roughly behind your back. The sudden action makes you lose balance and fall forward with a yelp. When you make a move to straighten your torso up, a hand reaches the nape of your neck to keep you pinned to the hood of your car roughly, your chest and side of your face becoming dirty with the dust covering your vehicle. The taller man leans over your body, and you’re brought to your tippy toes as he does this, his erection pushing harshly against your ass. The cloth on his face drapes over your shoulder as he brings his mouth close to your ear, “You’re too soft with her, asking if it’s okay if she doesn’t mind. Slut like her doesn’t care about shit like that. Look at what she’s wearing… Begging for it, on display for us.” The way he spoke into your ear made your heart seize up. He spoke directly to you, but referred to you in the second person, dehumanizing you even further, not even addressing you as equal to them. This was beyond humiliating, beyond anything you would have expected. 

“Get off of me,” you protest, with a tone less than convincing. The one holding you down laughs, a chuckle breaking through his throat.

He thinks this is some kind of joke. 

“Fuck, Ghost,” he chortles, the sound low and sinister, dripping with mockery. “You should see how she’s trembling under me right now. It’s pathetic,” His voice cuts through the stillness, like a sharp blade, and the way he savours the words makes your stomach churn. Each laugh feels like a slap to your senses, echoing in your skull, ringing louder than the panic surging through your veins.

“Fucking bitch doesn’t even know we aren’t actually cops,” he says, and just like that, the ground shifts beneath your feet and your entire world is upside down. Your breath has ceased, and your lungs feel as if they were taken straight out of your ribcage. “We put on a good show for you though, right? Pulling you over like that? Saying you were going 30 over, Ghost saying he ran a check on you.”  A laugh spills from his lips again, thick with satisfaction, and every syllable feels like it's pulling you deeper into a pit of dread.

It’s as if time stops. The world tilts sideways, and your body goes cold. The weight of his words presses down on you, and you realize, with sickening clarity, that everything you thought you understood was a lie. The badge, the uniforms, the flashing lights— all of it was just a performance. A sick game.

“Cops in this area have no backbone,” König starts, with a sickening satisfaction lingering on the ends of his words, “They were so easy to take down too, Schatz, you have no idea.” Another laugh billows out from his chest, “Where else do you think we got this uniform from? The cruiser?” 

Your heart is pounding so loudly, and everything starts to click. The blood on Ghost’s vest, you should have known. You want to move, to escape, but your body feels like stone. The world around you is suddenly too small, suffocating like the walls are closing in with every laugh, every word. You want to scream, but the sound won’t come. A tear runs down the bridge of your nose and König hums, leaning in close to you to breathe in the scent of your fear, “Love breaking girls like you, fuck.”

Ghost remains silent in the corner, his eyes watching, but you can’t tell if he’s complicit or detached from the cruel charade. You’re too far gone to care now. All that matters is the cold truth sinking into you like a heavyweight. Your mouth goes dry, the room spinning as the sick realization settles in harshly. You weren’t just caught in a trap. You were the prey, and every moment of this has been designed to break you, to twist you into their game.

Your eyes look backwards to meet Ghost’s, and you plead to him with begging eyes, for him to say anything, to get the man on top of you off, give you some sense of respite, some room to breathe, some time to process what is happening. As you thought you were starting to make progress, looking at Ghost with such a sad, pleading look, König notices and glares down at you. He leans into your ear again and speaks words that make you feel like you’ve died, a million times over and over again, “Oh Schatz,” he chuckles with a small sigh, sounding almost disappointed at your display, “Don’t look at him like that, he’s just waiting his turn.”

[reidrum]

if you keep asking | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

a/n: this was requested with “if you keep asking me i’m not gonna be okay” or smth along the lines 😭 i am a glutton for hurt/comfort fics so if yall have any more requests send em in :)

summary: in which you’re trying to keep it together when you hear some detectives talking ill of you, and spencer isn’t gonna have it

cw: hurt/comfort, self deprecation, insecure!reader, bitch ass detectives, protective bau my heart, use of she/her pronouns

wc: 2.2k

_______

the bau team was filing into the bullpen after landing from their last case in seattle, everyone making a beeline for their desks to get a head start on their reports so they could go home faster. everyone, except you. it felt like you were on autopilot, remembering your last known movements and just repeating them for as long as you could.

the case in seattle was rough to say the least. the unsub’s mo seemed to change every minute, making any progress the team made obsolete. the only thing that seemed to be somewhat consistent was where the unsub was taking his victims, which meant the geographical profile was the most important part to solving the case, a task you and reid were assigned to.

it started off fine, you both had found the comfort zone of where the unsub would strike next to figure out how to catch him in the act. except the next time he struck it was completely out of the predicted range, and this time a kid had died. no one could have anticipated that happening. it didn’t make the loss hurt any less.

the team knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault, humans are unpredictable, and that includes serial killers. spencer made sure to tell you specifically that it wasn’t your fault, he knew how you’d get if someone didn’t tell you.

his efforts went to utter waste when you walked by a room at the precinct with detectives whispering about how “you fucked up the whole profile, that’s why that kid died” and “it’s clear you make the team stupider, how did you even get into the fbi in the first place?”

it wasn’t the first time your abilities were in question. you were the newest member of the team, having only transferred six months ago from cold cases. you may be new to the field, but there was a reason hotch chose you personally for the bau.

you tried hard to prove yourself, despite pretty much everyone saying your skillset was enough proof. you’d stay late to finish reports, do extra research on cases to help garcia narrow her searches faster, and you spent countless hours at the training range.

you were a worthy agent, anyone who knew you or read your resume knew that. but right now, you felt like the smallest person on earth, an imposter. what the hell were you even doing here if you couldn’t save him.

you shouldn’t be allowed to feel relief that the team caught the unsub, not when there’s blood on your hands.

the bad thoughts swirling in your head causes you to stall your motions when you’re putting files away, gaining the attention of morgan, “you alright, sweet cheeks?”

“i’m good morgan, don’t worry.” you lie effortlessly. if he can tell you’re lying, he doesn’t mention it and turns back to his work.

taking a deep breath, you stand up to go to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, when you run into jj finishing up making her own, “i was just thinking about you, i got this new creamer i think you’d rea-, hey, are you okay?” jj starts but ends concerned.

you try to focus on metronomic tick of the clock so you dont escalate, “i’m fine j,” you laugh unconvincingly, “what creamer did you get?”

she ignores your question, “because i know that was a tough case, and if you need to talk about it with someo-“

“jj, drop it, please.”

the blonde’s face drops a little at your sternness, but respects your space and offers you to try the creamer before returning to her desk. you feel bad for snapping at her, but the growing guilt within you is giving you apathy, and you can’t bring yourself to care at this moment.

you linger in the kitchen so as to avoid any more concerned faces, and you’re left to your own devices that are slowly overtaking you.

unbeknownst to you, spencer had been watching you since you all landed back in quantico. he kept his distance, mostly because he knew how overwhelmed you get at confrontation, especially about your emotions. he was the same way, a man of logic getting befuddled by emotion was enough cognitive dissonance to last a long time.

he knew it was different with you. you had a way of internalizing everything in your surrounding, a downfall to your endless empathy for others even if they never deserve it. he could explain the logic behind your beliefs, and hopefully use facts to help you relax, but that was the other thing he knew about you; you were stubborn. asking for help is something you hated doing, and if it wasn’t on your accord to be asking, it was even more detrimental to your mood.

so when he watched you duck out from the kitchen and push past the glass doors of the bullpen, he knew you were reaching the head of your doom spiral quickly.

spencer got up from his desk, “i’m gonna go check on her.”

jj nodded, “just be mindful spence, something feels different.”

they’d all been on cases that hit a little too close to home, how could they not when all they do is rid the world of the evilest of evildoers. but after a good cry, a rant to a teammate, or even an emergency therapy session, even the worst of the scum could be washed away.

something about the way you’ve been acting since they landed seemed like those fixits aren’t going to work this time.

he let out a sigh in response and walked out of the bullpen, realizing he didn’t actually know which direction you went in. assuming you’d want to be alone, he thinks the bathroom might’ve been a viable option for you and heads towards it.

the nice thing about the seventh floor is that it’s only for the bau, the bullpen was where the team spent most of their time but outside the doors there were so many empty rooms being used for storage.

so as spencer walked towards the bathroom in the hopes of finding you, his ears pick up on a tiny sniffle a little ways before it. he stops in his tracks, hoping he was just hearing things. but another pained sob rang through the door on his left, and he knew he’d found you.

he rapps the door a few times, softly calling your name, “hey, it’s spencer…can i come in please?”

you were on the other side sitting at one of the abandoned desks with your head down, but shot up at hearing spencer’s voice, “i- i’m fine i just needed a minute. i’ll be back in like two minutes, i promise.” you angrily wipe at the tears pooling on your face, grateful that you took your makeup off in the plane.

“honey, that’s not what i asked,” he starts, “is it okay if i come in?

your heart clenches at the term of endearment as you stare at the door knowing he was waiting for your okay to come in, and you start to internally weigh your options. you could let him in, and let him in to do whatever comforting you know logically would help. or you could lie, and feign ignorance to the end.

don’t they say ignorance is bliss?

you make sure to wipe the last of your tears and your runny nose before practicing a few fake smiles so it didn’t look like your face was frozen in sadness for the last thirty minutes. turning the knob you swing the door open, borderline creepy smile on your face as you greet the man, “hi dr. reid! was there something you were looking for?”

he furrows his brows at your complete (fake) shift in mood, but he comes in and shuts the door behind him, and moves to stand a few feet from you, “what’s going on?”

“nothing spence, i’m fine.” you insist.

spencer thinks if you could be more see through you’d be a windexed window. you’re avoiding eye contact with him, picking at the skin of your thumb, he can see your nose is red most likely from all the tissue blowing, and your eyes are still puffy and lined with some unshed tears still. you are so clearly breaking at the seams, like an old childhood teddy bear with stuffing falling out the sides yet hoping you can offer some semblance of stability despite your state.

“you don’t look fine, honey. why won’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

his words almost make you falter, and you think the walls you built so high are starting to chip down. “it’s not a big deal spence, i-,” a hiccuped breath gives you away, “i can deal with it on my own.”

spencer instinctively shortens the gap between you two, “you shouldn’t have to. i just wanna help you.”

“but i’m oka-“

“no you’re not.”

there is only one tiny thin thread left holding you together. “well,” you take a deep inhale and your voice gets impossibly small, “if you keep saying things like to me i’m not gonna be okay.”

“that’s why i’m here.” he says softly.

you look up at him with the biggest glassy doe eyed look he’s ever seen, and it’s like spencer can hear the snap of the thread in real time when he watches your face absolutely crumble. he doesn’t hesitate to pull you into his embrace, allowing him to hold your head down in the middle of his chest while his other hand smooths up and down your back in comfort.

“i know, shh, hey it’s okay, i got you.” he comforts.

your hands wrap around his waist beneath his suit jacket and you keep your face buried in his chest, inhaling the musky vanilla scent of his cologne mixed with the fresh laundry detergent smell letting it ground you back to him.

“i’m sorry.” you cry.

“don’t say that,” he hushes, “is it about the case?” you nod in his embrace, “we talked about it remember? there was nothing we could have done. we did everything right, sometimes it just doesn’t work out, you know that.” he moves his hand to tangle in your hair and rub your head.

“i- i know,” you say through labored breaths. you take a big breath before admitting the true reason for your anguish, “when we were about to leave, i walked by a room with some detectives talking about how i ruined the case and that…i’m the reason the kid died.”

“what?” he pulls back to look you in the eyes hoping to find any indication that you didn’t believe those poisoned words, “we both worked on that geographical profile together, the whole team agreed it was accurate and acted accordingly. what happened was not your fault. at all.” he emphasizes the last two words.

“yeah but…i don’t know maybe i could ha-“

“stop. you can’t do that to yourself. we did what we could with what we had, the burden of that child’s passing does not fall on you. we were only able to find the unsub’s hiding spot when you figured out he’d been going to the same gas station since the murders started.” he reinforced to you.

“they said that they didn’t know how i even got into the academy in the first place, and that i make the team stupider.” you quietly added.

spencer felt the rage consume his body, already planning the ways he was going to obliterate seattle pd. he cradled your head to look at him in the eyes, “listen to me. you are an important asset to this team. you make this team better at what they do, you make me better at what i do. you mean so much to me and the team okay? please don’t forget that.”

he swipes at a fallen tear on your cheek as you tell him between sniffles, “thanks spence…” you hope he understands the sentiment and love you’re trying to exude to him, even thought you’re unable to vocalize it.

“you gotta tell me if something like that happens,” he softly scolds you, “i’ll make sure they lose their fucking jobs.”

you’re about to speak when he cuts you off, “and don’t tell me that we should be the bigger people, because once the rest of the team hears about this, they’re all gonna be fighting over who’s gonna kick the shit out of them.”

you let out a tearful giggle, “you sound really funny when you curse.”

he scoffs, “what the hell, i do not!”

“you sound like a baby duckling that just learned how to say fuck.”

he starts to guide you out of the room and towards hotch’s office so you can recount what happened, “ouch, i’m hurt. i’d like to think the pistol and fbi badge i carry makes me intimidating.”

you giggle again, and spencer puts aside his rage to revel in the fact that you’re feeling better.

when hotch learned of what happened he immediately called seattle pd to file a motion to get those detectives fired, and the rest of the team were secretly praying for a case in seattle again so they could, as spencer predicted, kick the shit out of them.

[froginmygarden]

Got a little brain worm on the way home and have a need to write it down. Just a drabble because I'm not good at writing.

DC x DP Just a (clone) couple

Joung Adult!Team Phantom for some reason end up in the DC universe. For reasons, there aren't any equivalents of them here. Danny and Sam are together and Danny and Dani have a familiar relationship. Whatever the reasons they stay in this universe.

So Sam, Danny and Dani start making a life together as a family, Tucker goes on to make a "small business" involving VPN's and tech in general (finds an anthropomorphic girlfriend on the way or something), Jazz goes to uni (JL members city of choice, although I advise against Gotham or Metropolis, because that would make this too short).

For some MORE reasons unknown, although they might be by the making of our favourite clock-man, the DP people's DNA has by default markings of being clones in DC (I don't know if this is canon or fanon but Connor had something like that ╮⁠(⁠＾⁠▽⁠＾⁠)⁠╭). The thing is here Jack = Bruce, Maddy = Alexander and Jeremy = Clark, Pamela = Lois! Do you see my vision here??

So *JL member from the perspective city* meets the Fenton/Manson/Nightingale?? family accidentally when they are visiting Jazz, and has a sweet deja vu moment. Some time passes and the off handedly mention it to someone in the JL.

Batman being the paranoid bastard that he is goes on to check this thing out, because he can smell the fish from a mile away. Thinks the couple are clones, gets very paranoid again and starts making plans, plans get found by his kids, kids tell the JL and friends. So starts the collective discussions of what should they do, some say that they should get rid of the clones, some others that they don't have proof for anything nefarious and shouldn't do anything at all, someone points out that they have literally showed up out of nowhere and that it is reasonable to be suspicious. And Connor is also there.

Meanwhile Team Phantom is going about their lives like normal, but with a "I know that you know" mindset, and don't really bother with hiding themselves.

In my opinion the part that has to be the most glaringly noticeable about them should be that Danny (Batman's clone apparently) should wear a lot of flannel and have a "Midwestern Nice" personality" (the stuff of legends I have only heard about in passing) and over all should resemble Clark in fashion sense. For Sam (Superman's clone apparently) the exact opposite - she can put the GOTH in Gotham.

And all JL angst/drama/confusion happens in the background as we follow Connor Kent's/Superboy's POV and him dealing with having two half siblings and the half siblings being together and them having a child and this is too much for him oooooooooo noooooooo nononoonononoonononononno what in the sweeet home Alabama whhhhhyyyyyyyy!??!

So it's like a metronome tick's between the POVs of fluffy new life/potential threat to the JL I mean the child of Bruce/Lex and child Clark/Luis having potential super-smart, super-powered (potentially evil??) children. But overall it's crack.

Maybe I'll plan it out and actually try to write it, but meanwhile you can enjoy my half-ill/fever induced brain worms and play in the brown dirt puddle I call my creative thinking.

To who ever finished reading this

Good night! ;P