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deunmiu-dessie · 27 days

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ⅶ▬ ⁽ 𝓌𝑒𝓃𝒹𝒾𝑔𝑜 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₃˖₇ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, sloppy writing, NSFW, explicit content, teratophilia, wendigo/human, rough sex, unprotected sex, gang bang, dubcon, fear, kidnapping, reader wears glasses, porn no plot. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : ya'll i hate this so much, but i wanted to post something today-- sorry if it's all over the place!

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: while babysitting for your aunt, you find yourself stranded in the living room.

꒰male!wendigo ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

" Don't worry Aunt J, I got this. "

𝒯he woman gazes at you with a concerned expression, her eyes filled with worry. However, she manages to muster a nod and gently plants a tender kiss on your cheek. "Make sure to lock the doors before you go upstairs. The house only locks my room and the kids’. You must be upstairs before 9:30, as that's when the doors lock. If you're not there by then, you'll be locked out until morning, but even so, if you've locked the front and back doors, you'll be fine. Don't. Forget."

You give her a firm nod, "I won't, I promise."

Recent sightings of a peculiar creature moving around the neighborhood have stirred up fear among the locals, particularly your Aunt whose anxious for the safety of her kids. She sighs and lovingly kisses your forehead, "Alright, enjoy yourself."

As you wave goodbye and lock the back door behind her, you pivot to find your younger cousin watching you with excitement, struggling to manage the baby boy in her arms. You laugh and relieve her of the baby. "How about we bake some brownies together?"

She lets out a joyful cheer, giggling as she dashes towards the kitchen, her excitement palpable. You carefully place the baby in his high chair, turning him to face the bustling kitchen. His eyes widen in wonder as he takes in the scene, a big grin spreading across his little face.

You enthusiastically bring your hands together, a wide grin spreading across your face. " Shall we? "

—

As you cradle the baby boy in your arms, a sense of warmth and tenderness envelops you and you can't help but pout softly, and coo at him. His little tiny fingers have loosened their grip on the milk bottle, causing it to slip from his hands and land softly on your lap. His eyes are closed, and you can't help but admire the long, black lashes that frame his lids. With a gentle touch, you press a loving kiss to your cousin's forehead, careful not to disturb his sleep.

You rise from the comfortable couch, making sure to move with utmost care so as not to awaken the sleeping child. A soft giggle escapes your lips as you hear a shuddering sigh emanate from him. It's moments like these that remind you of the innocence and beauty of childhood, it's something you miss.

Navigating your way around the couch, you begin your ascent up the stairs towards your Aunt's room. The woman had been nervous to leave them with your grandmother, though loving and caring, she's started to show signs of hip pains and occasional forgetfulness. Hence, your Aunt relies on you to watch over the little ones during her night shift at work.

Using your foot, you nudged the door open and switched off the lamp that cast a faint glow in the room. Gently placing the boy on the bed, you made sure his tummy was flat against the soft mattress before pulling the blanket over him and only up to his waist. You brush his hair away from his face before quietly exiting the room, the soft click of the door closing making you heave a sigh.

Turning around, you take a couple of steps forward and enter your other cousin's room. She's lying with her laptop open on her chest, her eyes closed, and her soft snores filling the room. A smile played on your lips as you walked over to her, closed the laptop, and placed it on her desk. Using her LED remote, you turned off the strips of light around the room, plunging it into darkness.

After your eyes swiftly adapted to the darkness, you carefully tucked the covers over her petite frame and quietly exited the room. The gentle sound of her door closing brought forth another sigh of relief. Glancing at your watch, you nodded with contentment, realizing that you had a valuable half an hour before all the room doors would be securely locked for the night. It provided ample time to tidy up and prepare for the following day.

As you made your way down the stairs, the creaking noise made you wince, fully aware that you couldn't afford for either child to stir. Swallowing hard, you descended the stairs with newfound caution. As you finally reached the bottom of the staircase, a wave of relief washed over you. The tension that had been building in your chest slowly began to dissipate without any sounds of the baby crying or the little girl calling out.

You started by straightening up the living room, turning on some lo-fi music, and cleaning quickly. After switching off the main light, you flick on the display light, which emits a soft glow, barely doing anything to brighten the room. The kitchen took a lot longer, particularly when clearing out the solidified chocolate from the bowls and wiping down the counters. In the end, it took a total of 20 minutes to finish cleaning the kitchen.

You couldn't help but feel a surge of nervousness as you stole another glance at your watch. The timer displayed only 10 minutes left, intensifying your anxiety. Shaking your head, you dismissed your nerves and concentrated on preparing for tomorrow.

Lost in thought, the sound of your watch going off caused your heart to skip a beat. Cursing, you quickly packed up, whispering small, scared 'no's to yourself. A faint cheer escaped you as you completed the task, rushing to ascend the stairs on time. Your heart sank as the resounding click of all the doors locking echoed in your ears.

You felt a slight vibration and immediately retrieved your phone from your back pocket. It was your Aunt, making sure everything was okay with you and the kids.

Auntie : Hey girly, are you and the kids in alright? Did you make it to the room?

Nervously, you gulped, your hands shaking and palms moist with sweat. Without hesitation, you promptly responded, your teeth prodding at your bottom lip.

You : Yes we did, the kids are asleep.

Lying to your aunt made your heartache, but you were too prideful to tell her the truth. Instead of offering a reply, she simply responded with a thumbs-up emoji and a heart. Letting out a heavy, ragged breath, you swiftly returned your phone to your pocket. Descending the stairs, your eyes slowly adapted to the dimness. The previously illuminated display had now turned off automatically, leaving you huddled on the couch, overwhelmed by a sense of unease.

Following a good thirty-minute interval, your fear gradually subsided. You reached for your phone, scrolling through social media to find no one online.

Growing more confident, you entertained the possibility that whatever had caused unrest in the community had either disappeared or would not manifest tonight. As you removed your glasses, your vision blurred slightly, your body relaxed, and your gaze fixated on the phone screen that was dangerously close to your face. ( It was probably why you had glasses in the first place. )

Time slipped away faster than expected, and suddenly, it was midnight. The profound silence stirred up a fresh wave of concern, as the absence of wildlife sounds, like crickets and owls, made you feel the urge to curl up and disappear into the couch.

Your phone vibrated, signaling the low battery before shutting down abruptly. You clicked your tongue in annoyance and silently made your way towards the charger, plugging it in. Slipping out of your tight-fitting jeans, you remained in your undergarments, stretching your legs. Folding the jeans neatly, you placed them on the back of a nearby chair before returning to the couch and settling in comfortably with a soft, velvet blue throw draped over your exposed legs.

As tiredness crept in, your eyes began to droop, causing your vision to blur and lose focus. The sudden piercing bark of a dog jolted you out of your drowsy state, causing your entire body to freeze. Which was so unusual for the neighbor's dogs, who were known for their friendly demeanor and familiarity with the community, this feral, unfamiliar bark made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

The barking grew increasingly louder and more aggressive, accompanied by menacing snarls. The sounds elicited a pounding sensation in your chest, so intense that it caused a searing pain. Unexpectedly, the barking and snarling abruptly ceased, but rather than providing any relief, it caused a profound sense of despair, causing your heart to sink.

Holding your breath, your eyes widened as a towering, monstrous, and slender figure glided past the frosted windows adjacent to the door. Its voice was distorted, emitting broken and eerie sounds, desperately pleading in its otherworld gravelly voice, "Help me. Someone help."

The arrangement of your Aunt's house was peculiar. The back door functioned as the main entrance, revealing the dining room and kitchen upon entry. Moving forward led to the living room, while continuing onwards brought you to the front door. Situated to the right of the front door were the stairs leading to both your Aunt's and the children's rooms.

At the moment, you found yourself positioned in the living room, standing tall with your gaze fixed on the door. In an instant, the door seemed to draw nearer than you had initially perceived, causing a sense of fear to grip you. As it vanished beyond the second window, you released a sigh of relief, nearly letting out a scream as the shadow reappeared by the window, as if it had detected the sound of your breath.

The door was locked, it couldn't get in, right? Your vision became obscured by tears, and you chastised yourself for your stupidity. Part of the prep was making sure that the doors that couldn't be locked by the system were locked manually. Regrettably, in your rush to reach the room, you had completely forgotten to lock the front door.

The turning of the doorknob emits a high-pitched squeak, prompting you to immediately flatten yourself against the couch while covering your mouth and nose with your hands. The grating sound of the door opening compels you to tightly shut your eyes. A cool draft of air infiltrates the room, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Within this tense ambiance, a menacing snarl and a huff reverberate, accompanied by the unsettling noise of bones cracking as the intruder maneuvers to enter the house.

The soft whimper of the floorboards serves as a warning of its presence, prompting you to reluctantly open your eyes. A sudden gasp escapes your lips as you behold its towering horns, skeletal face morphing into a snout, and blood-red eyes. With a shudder, you tightly shut your eyes as the creature's head swivels in your direction, swiftly advancing toward where you lay on the couch.

Merely a few inches away from your position, the creature sniffs the air intently before gradually drawing nearer. As you open your eyes once more, you carefully scrutinize its appearance. Contrary to your initial perception, the creature's physique is not as slender as it seemed from afar. Adorned with a layer of fur, its arms display a muscularity that is not excessive, striking a harmonious balance. Furthermore, its thighs possess a substantial thickness, evoking a sense of strength. However, as your gaze trails down, you notice that its hind legs taper into a much skinnier form.

The creature looms closer than anticipated, its intense heat palpable against your skin. Despite its towering presence, its warm breath gently brushes your face. Your breathing stops as you feel something drag across your skin, it's rock hard but there's a softness to it. It pulsates rhythmically, and you swear that you can feel veins throbbing along its surface, a sticky and viscous substance oozing along your skin, inflicting a searing sensation.

You come to the realization that you are positioned just below the creature's waist, nearly at the same height. Was it– its cock touching you? Tears escape from your eyes, and you find yourself unable to move as it accidentally nudges against your lips. The creature is still in search of the sound it heard earlier, but your motionless state and barely audible breaths are causing confusion. You wonder briefly if it's blind.

You ache to turn your head away from it, yet you're acutely aware that any movement on your part could potentially alert it, and you could be killed. You endure it, eyes watching its head whip around for you. It leans closer, hips following suit. Scared that it'll notice your presence, in a hushed surrender, you part your lips, just in time for its throbbing member to slide into your warm, saliva-laden mouth— you had refrained from swallowing, fearing that the sound might betray your presence. Underestimated, its long thick cock pushes against your throat, forcing you to suppress any sound that threatens to escape. Perhaps you should've just made a run for it.

You can feel the hefty weight of its balls against your chin and clench your eyes shut as it jerks its hips back, causing you to exhale shakily through your nose. With its motion paused you observe one of its hind legs tapping on the wooden floor, seemingly quivering with delight from the sensation of being in your mouth.

Tears stream down your face as you stifle your sobs, desperately attempting to keep yourself from gagging. The creature's hips begin to thrust with an untamed ferocity, its primal growls and snarls resonating through its chest. Its flavor is raw and invigorating, not entirely repulsive but rather tolerable. The living room fills with the wet, squelching sound as saliva overflows in your mouth. Its member plunges deeper into your throat, causing drool to cascade down your cheek.

Your pussy throbs and clenches despite your fear. The disgust you feel towards yourself for being turned on in such a situation only heightens the sensation of disdain. The beast emits guttural grunts now, its hips faltering, and you can sense its impending climax. Arousal drips from your cunt, coating your labia and making your panties stick to you uncomfortably.

As terrified as you are, the urge to swallow is becoming overwhelmingly difficult to ignore. Squeezing your eyes tightly shut, you succumb to the temptation, swallowing as discreetly as possible, relieved that the sound remains unheard. However, this action seems to have an unexpected effect on the creature, as the feeling of your throat squeezing the tip of its cock causes it to thrust forward abruptly, causing you to gag, feeling it nearly reach the depths of your throat.

Thick ropes of tacky, sweet cum coat your throat white and you find it hard to swallow. Its legs shudder for a moment and it continues to move its hips in your mouth before it thankfully backs away from the couch, seemingly satisfied.

Anticipation filled your gaze as you observed it retreat toward the entrance., almost sighing in relief as you parted your thighs, feeling the tension release as your pussy lips spread apart, the sensation of wetness trickling down your thighs.

Sniff

Your gaze darted upwards, and a surge of fear coursed through you, and it made you want to scream. The creature was gazing in your direction, yet not directly at you. The door became a distant memory as it slowly retraced its steps toward your position, its nose held high in the air. You realized it must have caught the intoxicating scent of your arousal. In a discreet attempt, you closed your legs, hoping to dissuade its advances.

But it persisted, undeterred. With your eyes clenched shut, tears streamed down, obscuring your vision. It halted at your head, lowering itself to take a deep, lingering sniff, still unsatisfied. Lower and lower it ventured, until it paused just above your belly button. Another teasing sniff, followed by a playful chuff, before it finally made its way towards your tightly closed legs.

With a gentle nudge, its snout caressed your thighs, urging you to surrender. You hesitated, knowing that if you resisted, it would employ a more forceful approach. Reluctantly, you yielded, parting your thighs, cursing your decision to forgo pajama bottoms after removing your jeans. A jolt of surprise coursed through you as its elongated, slightly pointed tongue sensually traced the contours of your inner thigh.

Drawing nearer, it sniffed intently, determined to locate the exact origin of the alluring scent. One of its legs rested on the couch, its body contorted to get closer to your pulsating entrance. Though fear gripped you, causing tremors, your wet pussy clenched and released, eagerly anticipating something, anything. The heat of its breath brushed against your legs, its horns pressed against your stomach. Its elongated black tongue slithered forward, disappearing between your thighs, causing your soaked panties to dampen even more so as it leisurely licked and coiled around the fabric.

Eagerly, it buried its head between your luscious thighs, its horns grazing against your quivering stomach. Your body tensed as its teeth sank into your delicate underwear, tearing it apart with horrifying ease. A provocative sniff caused a blush to bloom on your cheeks, and you resisted the urge to close your legs.

And suddenly you’re lost in a haze of desire, your eyes rolled back, surrendering to the intense pleasure coursing through your cunt. Its tongue skillfully traced a path up your slick folds, lavishing attention on your throbbing clit with a delicious roughness. Your legs tensed, responding to the electrifying sensations, while its commanding hands firmly grasped your thighs, ensuring a steady grip as it delved deeper into your pussy.

The relentless drag of its slippery, warm tongue had you gasping for air. It was evident that the beast had developed a fascination with your tender bundle of nerves. As it continued to lap at it, your juices drooled from your throbbing pussy, the thin part of its tongue coiled around your clit, squeezing and prodding it.

You couldn't help but moan out as you came, pussy spasming. Paying no mind to the noise, it continued to lick up your moist slit, rumbling as it stumbled upon your small, tight entrance. Withdrawing, it grasped your legs tightly, almost folding you in half, pressing your thighs against your breasts.

What was happening? What was it doing?

The sheer heaviness of its throbbing member grazing against your drenched folds elicited a sharp intake of breath, at this point you didn't care if you made noise or not. That thing would surely rip your pussy apart.

It prodded at your entrance, clumsily trying to find your hole. When the head of its cock finally slid against you, it snarled lowly, the tip of its cock getting drenched from your arousal. The wendigo slowly inched in and you whine out as the bulbous tip slowly pops in, painfully stretching you. Your thighs tremble as your pussy reluctantly give way to its overwhelming thickness, pulsating around the beast timidly.

You're a moaning mess, completely enthralled as its fat, long cock disappears into your dripping cunt. Every vein and ridge pulsates against your sensitive walls. Your tightness clenches around its cock, causing it to emit a deep growl as it sinks deeper and deeper. The bulbous head tenderly grazes your cervix, while its weighty, thick balls press firmly against your ass. Your whimpers and spasms intensify, your eyes rolling back and your nipples straining against your blouse. It remains motionless for a moment, its breaths labored and its grip tightening against your trembling thighs.

With a forceful pull and a swift thrust, it sets a punishing rhythm. The silhouette of its member presses against your abdomen, and it makes you even whine in embarrassment, cheeks flushing. The fear has ebbed away and you can only moan and cry for more, you can feel the drag of its pelvis touch your aching clit when it pulls out. The pain and pleasure meld together, distorting your vision, your eyes bleary and lips parted.

A particular rough thrust against your g-spot has you cumming hard and long, your pussy gripping its cock tightly, milking it with fervor. It thrusts into you once more, gently stretching your cervix open, its tip finding a comfortable resting place. Hot, thick ropes of cum flood your womb, the sheer girth of its member ensuring not a single drop escapes, it lasts for a few minutes until your stomach extends slightly and you're too tired to move.

As it withdraws, a torrent of cum spills onto the couch, causing your belly to deflate slightly, yet not completely. The wendigo is finally sheathed, its cock nowhere in sight.

In an instant, a sensation of weightlessness engulfs you, as if you are floating on air. You find yourself nestled against the powerful chest of the creature, your mind clouded with desire and confusion. Despite your desperate attempts, you are unable to break free from its hold, your throat throbbing with pain.

In the blink of an eye, the two of you are whisked away, leaving the safety of the house behind. Your feeble attempt to reach for the door is futile, as it vanishes into thin air. Now, surrounded by the mysterious allure of the forest, you realize that you are not alone. More of those captivating creatures encircle you, their presence both exhilarating and unnerving.

Tears cascade down your delicate cheeks as your gaze is drawn to their thick, long, heavy cocks hanging between their legs— despite how absolutely terrified you are, your pussy begins to ache and drip. Gradually, you are lowered onto the soft ground, the sensation of the grass teasing your supine form. One of the creatures steps forward, communicating with its companion in a series of excited chitters.

Your trembling legs are gently parted, allowing a thicker, lengthier shaft to penetrate your eager entrance. The keening sound of your wanton moans fills the air, blending with the rustling of the grass in the secluded clearing. Suddenly, something nudges your lips, and as you gaze upwards, another creature stands before you, its gaze fixated upon your vulnerable form. Without hesitation, you part your lips, your eyes widening in anticipation as their hips thrust forward, plunging into your mouth, instantly throat-fucking you. You splutter and gag, fear settling deep in your chest.

Your gaze becomes misty as your eyes well up, and as you peer through them, you notice a multitude of over 50 more of them, cocks oozing with precum, waiting for a chance to fuck you themselves.

Is this how you'd be living now?

1K notes · View notes

another-lost-mc · 4 months

Note

Okay but what if, before MC is taken to the future by nightbringer, they had a big fight with the brothers?

Like, they fought about something and said something along the lines 'go away' ' I don't want to see you', but then, when you don't return they start feeling guilty.

At first they'll think you're angry and don't want to talk with them, but when time passes and you don't return they start to get so worried, looking everywhere for you, regretting that the, possibly, last words they said to you were harsh confrontation.

The angst potential 😭😭 how do you think each of the bros would react?

😈🍬 anon

a/n: well, nightbringer sure is a blessing for angst fans.

the worst goodbye | the demon brothers

2.8k words | gn!reader | sfw | angst

cw: mentions of lesson 16 in belphie's part.

Lucifer goes to his office and pretends that he's not angry. He attempts to distract himself with paperwork, but all he does is read the same paragraph a few times over and over again before he throws the page down with a huff. He taps his pen against his desk while he sifts through the emotions clouding his mind. All he felt earlier was wounded pride—that's why he scolded you with more force than necessary, speaking with his cruel, barbed tongue but regretting it just as quickly. He admires and loathes your feisty temper. You're his stubborn, brave little human that stands up to him when most demons wouldn't dare to try.

He plans his apology like a mantra and goes to your room; he knows if he's sincere, you'll give him a chance to make things right. You don't answer your door when he knocks, and he peeks his head inside to confirm that you're not there. He sends you a message with his D.D.D. and shuffles awkwardly in the hallway while he waits for a reply. He asks in the family group chat, but no one's seen you recently and he ignores the initial tendrils of icy fear that make his chest feel tight. Surely you wouldn't have stormed off in a sulk? But he checks the rest of the house and his brothers realize slowly that something is wrong—you wouldn't just leave. Lucifer searches for you himself, around the House of Lamentation and all around the Devildom, searching for anyone that might've seen you, or any hint of where you've gone. But in the early twilight hours, he pours a glass of Demonus that remains untouched while he stares absently into the fire of his private study. His heart freezes over in your absence. Your warmth thawed his icy demeanor, and the roaring fire crackling nearby can't stop the chills that wrack through him when he tells himself that you're gone and he has no one to blame but himself.

You rarely fight with Mammon these days, but when you do, it spirals out of control. He spits out scathing remarks about how he's sick of you trying to pry your nose into his business because he hates admitting that you're right. You try so desperately not to yell (or cry, or both) when you plead with him to forget about whatever risky scheme he's got planned. It's not worth risking Lucifer's wrath and whatever punishment lies in store when Mammon's plan inevitably fails to his own detriment. He stalks away and ignores the sound of your voice cracking in pain when you call his name one last time—and maybe if he were less incensed, he would stop and turn around and apologize. But today he feels particularly stubborn and he doesn't look back. He fully intends on leaping in his car and driving off into the night to burn off some steam, but he slumps against his bedroom door with his head in his hands and tries to remember why he was so angry with you to begin with. He can't pinpoint the reason and he knows you only have his best intentions at heart.

It feels like hours later when he ends up outside your door, head down and tail tucked firmly between his legs. He shouts through the wood when you don't answer and he swears he didn't mean it, that he'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. You're too patient and kind and loving for your own good, and he tempts fate every time he takes your forgiveness for granted. He opens the door and scratches his head in confusion when he realizes you're not there. He spots one of his brothers at the end of the hall, and his confusion sours into something ashy on his tongue when he asks him where you are. I haven't seen them—we all thought they were with you!

Leviathan plays his game, tapping the buttons on his handheld with more force than necessary, as simmering anger from your fight earlier darkens his mood. He didn't mean to forget about your lunch date, so why did you get so mad? Maybe calling you a worse nag than Lucifer was over the top, but he planned on making it up to you later! He gets lost in his thoughts and plays his game until he realizes it's been a couple hours and his D.D.D. has been surprisingly silent. Sometimes you message him and invite him to talk things out in your room once you've both had time to calm down. He has no idea what it means that you've ignored him all this time and when he tries to message you first, they go unanswered. He shuffles to your room guiltily and hopes you'll be willing to talk face-to-face. It's almost dinner time, and maybe if you're feeling up to it, he can take you out for dinner. He even canceled his raid tonight so he can spend the evening curled with you on the sofa watching movies instead.

He doesn't expect to hear a commotion as he walks down the stairs to the first floor, and his brothers are crowded outside your room in various states of panic. Lucifer sees him and rushes to explain what's going on, but the words turn to radio static in Levi's head. He doesn't even notice that he drops his D.D.D. and it clatters to the ground, cracking the corner of the plastic case you gave him as a present not too long ago. Instead of cuddling with you on the sofa that night, he curls around his body pillow in the tub, his tail twitching noisily against the porcelain while he buries his head and deafens his whimpers in the tear-stained cotton. Come back, come back, please come back—

When the rage subsides, Satan glances wearily around his room and the terrible mess he's made. Some of his favourite books are ripped and torn to shreds across the floor, but the sight hurts less than the memory of your heartbroken face crumpling in pain as you fought back tears. He's done many terrible things in his life he's not proud of, but insinuating you don't care about him might be the lowest blow he could use during a fight. You've only wanted what's best for him, and you try so hard to show the world that he's more than the violent, angry creature that lurks deep inside him.

If only the world could see you the way I do.

Regret quickens his steps and he leaves the broken chaos in his room to find you because he shouldn't have even let you go. Why did it take him so long to apologize? He doesn't deserve it, but if you'll only give him a chance, he swears to himself he'll make it up to you. He hastily wipes away the tears pooling in the corner of his eyes when he notices his brothers lingering outside your room. They're too distraught to notice the sharp bite in his words when he demands to know what's going on and where you are. Nothing they say makes any sense—you wouldn't just leave, right? He’s the first to tear through the house in a panic to find you, ignoring his brothers’ nervous pleas for him to calm down. You're nowhere to be found and eventually he returns to his room in a trance. No one knows how long he stands there, trembling with regret and shame and fury that someone or something dared take you away from him. All his brothers know, judging by the noise echoing through the halls, is that his room is nearly destroyed as he unleashed his heartbreak in a maelstrom of destructive rage.

Asmodeus takes another selfie and posts it on Devilgram. He hopes the notification will pop up on your D.D.D. and you'll see him having the time of his life at The Fall. He wants you to see it—he hopes it fills you with regret for arguing with him earlier. He doesn't fight with you often, but your tongues are both sharp and laced with venom when you do face off against each other. He enjoyed the anxious gleam in your eye when he backed you into a wall and leaned down so you were nearly nose-to-nose, the sweet scent of his lip gloss lingering in the gap between you while he cooed about how pathetic you looked. But that was almost an hour ago, and he can only pretend for so long that he doesn't regret leaving you stunned and hurt in the front hall when he waltzed out the door and slammed it behind him. The pounding music can't drown out the wicked things he said to you, and the crowd can't distract him from your absence that weighs heavily in his heart. There are many demons nearby who'd kill for his attention, but he knows deep down that the only hands he wants roaming over his body are yours.

It's not long after that he pushes his way out of the club and into the cool night air, but he still hasn't heard from you. Surely you've seen his Devilgram posts by now? You're smart enough to recognize his desperate ploys for attention. Your attention. Are you ignoring him on purpose? Maybe he deserves it, but he's anxious to talk to you and sends you a message on his walk home anyway. Message could not be delivered. The red text pops up on his screen, and he frowns and tries again. Message could not be delivered. He quickens his pace as he taps your contact name and calls you instead. Is there something wrong with your D.D.D.? "The number you have dialed is not in service."

He breaks into a run until the House of Lamentation peeks into view ahead. He bursts through the door and ignores Lucifer's angry shouts behind him as he rushes down the hall to your room, but all he sees is one of your favourite club outfits laid out on your bed, as if you were getting ready to come see him after all. Where are you? His brothers hover behind him and he borrows one of their phones so he can try calling you again. He tells himself that it must be a problem with his D.D.D. because no other explanation makes sense. "The number you have dialed is—" Asmo whimpers pitifully while he listens to the robotic voice drone on speaker for everyone to hear, and his brothers finally realize that something is wrong and split up to search for you. He chokes out your name and slumps onto your bed, inhaling your familiar scent when he holds your shirt, one that he bought you, to his face and sobs. He can hear his brothers' heavy footfalls throughout the house while they look for you, but deep down, he already knows you're gone.

Beel glances at the stands and wipes sweat and dirt from his brow. He can spot his brothers easily enough—it's hard to miss them, with the way Asmo's waving the glittery handmade sign with his name in bold pink lettering—but he doesn't see you. There's an empty space between Mammon and Levi where you normally sit, and they've kept it free for when—if—you show up. You've never missed one of his games, not ever. Maybe the argument earlier upset you more than he realized. He knows you don't normally eat his food on purpose. He knows you meant it when you sputtered apologies when you realized your mistake. He knows how hurt you were when he shouted at you in a hungry rage. The rest of the game passes by in a blur. He moves on autopilot, his mood growing more and more despondent each time he checks the crowd and realizes you're still not there. He barely recognizes his team's happy cheers when the game ends in victory. He has a quick shower and makes his excuses to his teammates because he already has plans for dinner tonight, with you, hopefully. He stops by Hell's Kitchen and picks up your favourite takeaway order and heads home. It's a peace offering, one of many apologies he owes you.

By the time he knocks on your door, he's eager to see you. Silence. He knocks again and waits, and he hesitantly pushes the door open when his greeting goes unanswered. You're not in your room, and after a quick search of the house, he realizes you're not anywhere. He visits your room over and over again as if you'll finally pop out and tell him you were just teasing him, because you wouldn't ever leave him on purpose, right? His name on a handmade sign on your bed, and one of his old jerseys he gave you, are all that you left behind and he wonders if he would've been able to stop you leaving had he come home to you sooner. (Your takeaway dinner remains uneaten in the fridge in case you come back, and Beel refuses to eat it himself or let anyone else eat it either. One of his brothers has to throw it away when it eventually turns rancid—Beel can't bring himself to do it, because it means admitting you may never come back.)

Belphie doesn't like sleeping alone. Most nights if he sleeps alone, it's by choice—his choice. Tonight should've ended like most nights do: with the both of you sharing the bed in the attic. He sleeps better when you're close. You're a warm weight curled against him, and the smell of your shampoo and your minty breath are small comforts when he has bad dreams. Sometimes he wakes up in a panic, his shirt damp with cold sweat, and he listens for your quiet snores, proof that you're alive, that the nightmare of your windpipe crushed in his deadly grip isn't real. Belphie sleeps in the attic alone tonight because you decided you needed space. It's petty revenge for earlier when he woke up from a nap in a foul mood and snapped at you in his frustration. He fluffs his pillow and his bottom lip juts out in a pout. He can't get comfortable and it's your fault. The house grows quiet as his brothers retire to their rooms and fall asleep, and Belphie senses when you finally drift off to sleep too. If he wakes up before you tomorrow, he'll crawl into your bed and hope that you'll be more receptive to his apology when you wake up.

It takes longer than usual but he finally falls asleep and feels content. Even when he's unconscious, he instinctively reaches for your presence and it calms him. Your dreamscape is like a little pond, and he watches from his own nearby shore as your thoughts pass by in a blur, like slick oil paintings skimming over a watery surface. He doesn't like to intrude on your dreams if he can help it—he only interferes when he senses them slipping into nightmares instead. He tells himself it's not selfish to erase them for you, but the truth is that he's not sure he can stomach seeing his own face reflected in your dreams anymore, not with its wicked sneer and bloodstained teeth. He's not sure he forgives himself for what he did to you, and he wonders if you've truly forgiven him too.

Something odd in your dreamscape shifts suddenly and it catches Belphie's attention. The images in your subconscious grow murky and twisted, like they're being sucked down into some unseen void. Your presence is like sand falling through his fingertips, and it's harder and harder for him to feel you. He reaches out to your mind to wake you up because he doesn't know what's wrong, but something about this scares him. He jolts awake in the attic, chest heaving with the final memory of something snapping in his mind, like the cord that tethered you to him was suddenly cut. Eventually his brothers get up too and he can hear the commotion coming from down the stairs. He makes his way to your room in a trance before they can come find him. He already knows what his brothers are struggling to understand, the truth that no one can explain. You're gone somewhere far away, impossibly out of his reach, and he dreads falling asleep and feeling the void your absence left behind.

Sleep evades him until he forces himself to try and rest, and he finds himself in your bed instead of his own. He curls himself around your pillow underneath your sheets, clinging to the last whiffs of your scent, and he hopes you'll wake him up and tell him this was nothing but a bad dream. (Your scent fades away long before the nightmare ends, and he stops sleeping in your room after that.)

read more: obey me masterlist

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lavender-devotion · 27 days

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Hi Hi! I wasn't sure if you're open but can I request a Alastor x reader who is a charlie's older sister and she is alastor's fiance. They never told their hotel friends, basically they're in a secret relationship, until Lucifer arrived (from episode 5 dad beat dad) and announced she's engaged. but no body knew who her fiance was until alastor popped up behind her and pressed a kiss on her. Charlie's happy and Lucifer D:

As soon as I saw this request I immediately ran to make this meme, lmao I'm sorry 😭

anywho, here we go lmao

Summary: You’re Lucifer's eldest and, much like Charlie, you’re desperate to have his support and approval---he’s your dad, of course you are. So, when he finally visits the hotel, you can't wait to tell him that you're engaged. And he's overjoyed...that is, until he finds out that you're engaged to the Radio Demon. What happens when your fiancé and your dad start feuding over you, forcing you to pick a side? Your family, or the love of your life?

Tags: Alastor x Fem!Reader, No Use of (Y/N), Reader is Lucifer's Eldest, Secret Relationship, Lucifer has a heart attack bc Alastor, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, we're just gonna pretend Alastor has been at the hotel a longer time than in canon bc Plot, Charlie is a Good Sister TW: None <3 Word Count: 2.6k Read it on Ao3 <3

When you'd first met Alastor, you had been…skeptical of him, to say the least.

To be completely honest, you’d hated him—and that was putting it lightly. You hated how condescending he was, you hated the fact that he clearly had ulterior motives, you hated that he kept everything about himself a secret, you hated his damn smile, you hated…him!

And the feeling was definitely mutual.

Alastor hated your obvious distrust of him, he hated the fact that you neither feared nor respected him, he hated the way you’d constantly tell Charlie and the others to be wary of him, he hated the way you always seemed to get in the way of his plans, he hated…you!

And no matter how many lessons Charlie had on friendship and trust—lessons that she forced the two of you to attend, I might add—or how many lectures about how the two of you needed to get along or how much she begged the two of you to stop fighting, nothing ever worked.

But…then something changed.

At some point between then and now, the two of you began to soften and learn more about each other---often against your will, and your wishes---and you found...that you had more in common than previously thought.

You both preferred radio to television, you both had a love and penchant for cooking, you both enjoyed quite a few of the same novels, and on and on it went. And those similarities brought the two of you closer together and, although neither of you ever wanted to admit it, you actually began to get along. Eventually, after enough time had passed, the two of you managed to forget why you didn't get along in the first place---all of it becoming a distant memory.

Of course, one thing led to another, and now you were lucky enough to have a pretty little ring on your left hand---not married yet, but soon to be.

Obviously none of the others knew about any of this, by both of your wishes. You were both private people and, knowing everyone else, they would ask questions and the two of you would end up having to spill your entire life's stories to finally get them to leave it be---and even that wasn't guaranteed!

So, to avoid the drama of it all, you just...kept things quiet. Private.

It wasn't particularly hard---Alastor wasn't much of a PDA person, especially in public; neither of you were particularly big fans of pet names; your dates were always fairly simple; and the two of you had your own jobs within the hotel to attend to, so half the time you weren't even in each other's presence.

It was...nice. Having someone to lean on, being able to see another side of Alastor---and having him all to yourself. No one else had him like you did, and you preferred it that way. Of course, though, all good things had to come to an end.

Your and Charlie's father, Lucifer, was coming to the hotel for the first time and---knowing him---it'd be the last, so now was possibly your only chance to tell him about your engagement in person.

Part of you was nervous, considering that you hadn't even told him---or anyone else---you were dating someone and now you were just going to spring an engagement on all of them, but another part of you was relieved and excited. Obviously, you would miss the privacy, but who knew? Maybe everyone's constant curiosity wouldn't bother you as much as you thought, and you might actually end up enjoying a more public relationship.

One where you could kiss him whenever you pleased, instead of being forced to wait until the two of you were alone; one where you could wish him goodbye with an "I love you," instead of snarky "don't die" on the way out; one where you could simply blow off any potential suitors with an "I'm married," instead of having to convince them that you really weren't interested in dating. Maybe all of that would be nice too.

"Nervous?" Alastor asked, the static overlay of his voice drawing you out of your thoughts. You turned away from the mirror you were looking into, instead turning your attention to your beloved---his ever-present smile softening as he looked at you.

"A little, I just..." you sighed, "I just want this to go well, but---knowing my dad---he's going to freak out and it'll be a whole thing."

He chuckled and stepped forward until he was close enough to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face, "not to worry, my dear, I'm sure everything will go just fine."

"But-"

"And if it doesn't," he continued, "I'll be by your side to help you fix it all. You won't be alone."

You smiled and let him draw you into a chaste kiss, some of your tension dissipating in his presence. Somehow he always knew how to make you feel better.

"What would I ever do without you?" You asked, gently cupping his face.

He tilted his head slightly to press another kiss to your palm, "you'll never have to find out."

Suddenly the unmistakable sound of Charlie's voice made its way up to your shared room, introducing everything and everyone in the hotel to---who you assumed to be---your father. So there was no more preparing yourself for it, now you just had to do. Besides, maybe Alastor was right, maybe he'd take the announcement better than you thought.

There was only one way to find out.

----------

"WHAT??? HIM???"

He did not, in fact, take it better than you thought.

You tried to wait for the perfect time to break the news, but---of course---your dad had immediately spotted the ring on your finger- (a detail that, somehow, everyone else had missed) -and pressed you for more information, his actual reason for visiting long forgotten. By both him and everyone else, apparently.

Getting a meeting with Heaven was suddenly playing second fiddle to everyone's curiosity about who you'd been dating behind their backs---who you were now engaged to. So, after a lot of pressing and pressing, you'd finally relented and admitted that it was Alastor. Which had led to...all of this.

Charlie was vibrating off the walls, everyone else was in various states of shock, and your dad...looked like he was in the middle of a mental breakdown.

"You can't- I mean-" He laughed, more than a little hysterical, "you're not actually engaged to him, are you?"

Before you could answer, Alastor cut in---a sharp edge coloring his tone.

"Why wouldn't she be?"

Your father's attention switched from you to Alastor, practically seething as he looked at him. You couldn't see Alastor's face from your place beside him, but you could tell that the feeling was mutual by the crackling electricity that crawled across your skin.

"Have you ever fucking met you?" Your father asked incredulously.

"Yes, and I'm very lucky to have her," Alastor responded, punctuating his statement with a gentle kiss on your cheek---a kiss obviously done just to piss your father off, since you knew Alastor wasn't exactly fond of public affection.

The tension was thick in the air as the two just stood there, glaring at each other.

Then finally, your father laughed.

"Alright then..."

Jazzy, upbeat, music suddenly came out of nowhere, and—before you had any time to process what was happening—you were drawn into your father’s song and dance number, the world around you shifting to follow his words.

“Looks like you could use some help, from the big boss of Hell himself! Obviously, since I don’t know how you could’ve felt that this–”

One voice, “Bastard!”

Two, “Jackass!”

Three, “Arrogant piece of shit!”

Back to your father, “–would ever make a suitable husband! Especially for you, did you forget?”

He twirled you around until you were in an elegant dress and crown, falling backwards onto a throne.

“You’re a princess of Hell, so better yet! Rather than an old outdated crook—who’s probably just using you for your station, at least from the looks—why not let your dad give you pick of the lot?” He snapped his fingers, new people appearing with every beat, “men, women, or those in between; outgoing royalty or someone serene, anything but this walking tomato lookin’ prick—you could have anyone, so just take your pick!”

A streak of shadow suddenly shoved your father to the side, Alastor appearing in his place with a charming grin—his shadow twirling around you like it was trying to hold you.

“My dear it’s true that you’re one of a kind—everything anyone could ask for, a very rare find,” he knelt before you and kissed your hand, “I’m a very lucky sinner to call you my own, to stand by your side as you sit on your throne.”

He then moved to sit on the arm of your throne, pulling you into his side, “however I have to agree that someone around here is a crook, but it’s certainly not me, so let’s take a look!”

The first person he picked out of the crowd was Charlie, his shadow minions bringing her forward dressed in her own royal attire, “your darling sister, who’s been by your side—supporting you through your troubles, high or low tide!”

Next came the other residents, dressed in their own fancy clothing, although less detailed than yours and your sister’s, “your close hotel friends, do you dare suspect them? Even though they’ve proven they’d follow you to the end?”

Finally he knelt in front of you again, dressed in his own royal attire and placing a golden ring on your left ring finger, “or do you truly think it could be me, your doting husband-to-be? Could I be the traitor despite the love, trust, and devotion I’ve given to you, or everything I’ve done to prove that my affection is true?”

“Of course not! You know that, so why don’t you see?” Suddenly your father was shoved forward like a criminal, the shadows dressing him in peasant style clothing, “the only traitor around here is this snake, does he take you for Eve?”

“Excuse me?” Your father asked incredulously, pushing back the shadows and reappearing in his usual clothing.

“Trying to lead you to darkness with his tricks and lies, wanting you to be miserable and lonely instead of by my side.”

“Hold on now–” “All this unsupportive jargon, telling you how you should live your life,” Alastor practically snarled, looking your father dead in the eye, “no wonder that this bastard was left by his wife.”

Your head was left spinning as things quickly switched between your father playing a golden fiddle, to your fiance interrupting him on a vintage piano—the two practically seething at each other before turning their attention back to you.

First Alastor, “my dear, why don’t you pick your own path, instead of listening to this stick in the mud?”

Then your father, “why choose a shitty partner over your own blood?”

And that is how it went.

“And pick a deadbeat father, nothing more than a dud? Wouldn’t you rather find happiness with the family you choose?”

Over.

“Yeah, sure, pick a bunch of losers–”

And over.

“Can you butt out of my song?”

And over.

“Your song? I started this!”

Until finally– “I’m singing it, I’ll finish it!”

You had had enough.

“Oh you tacky piece of sh–”

"JUST STOP!" You shouted, bringing their argument to a screeching halt and drawing a deadly silence into the room, "for fuck's sake---how can the two of you not see your own hypocrisy?! Even when it's sitting right in front of you!"

The two of them stared at you, wide eyed, but you kept going before they could respond.

"You're arguing over what's best for me, while not even fucking asking me what I want! This isn't even about me, this is about the two of you hating each other," you took a breath, desperately blinking back tears, "well you know what? BOTH of you are hurting me! BOTH of you are ignoring my wishes! BOTH of you are treating me like shit! And I don't want to fucking be around EITHER OF YOU!"

And without another word you turned on your heel and left the hotel.

----------

The moment you heard footsteps coming near you, you flipped around and snarled---prepared to snap at your father or Alastor, whichever one decided to come kiss your ass to one-up the other. But, instead, you only found Charlie standing behind you, a concerned look on her face.

You immediately turned away from her and wiped your eyes, not wanting your little sister to see you like this, but she didn’t seem to mind—just sitting beside you and resting her head on your shoulder as you sniffled.

After a moment, you broke the silence.

“I just…I don’t understand,” you said, voice shaking, “they’ve known each other for five fucking minutes and already hate each other. Why can’t they just get along for me? Do I seriously matter that little to them?”

Charlie was quiet for a moment, mind churning.

“I don’t necessarily think that’s it,” her voice was quiet as she spoke, as if she was thinking through each word, “I think that, for the first time ever, both of them are dealing with the fact that they might not be the most important man in your life and…I guess this is just their way of reacting to that.”

You turned to her, eyebrows raising, and she continued to explain.

“Family is important to you, Alastor knows that, but he hasn’t had to…complete, I guess, with anyone for his place by your side before—so, when dad showed up and openly disapproved of him, I think he just got scared that you’d leave him because of what dad thinks,” she took a breath, still thinking through her words, “dad, on the other hand, has always been the one who you’d run to for everything—if you were scared, sad, happy, or needed help, he was the one you’d go to. Now you have Alastor and that’s who you go to for everything, so I think dad just got scared that you wouldn’t need him anymore now that you’re getting married.”

“Congratulations, by the way,” she added wryly, squeezing your arm with a smile.

You gave her a small smile back, “how’d you ever get to be so smart?”

“I learned from the best.”

You sighed, “I just wish they’d get over themselves, I can—in fact—have more than one important man in my life, there’s not a fucking limit.”

“Yeah well…men can be stupid, I guess.”

You snorted and pulled her close, gently ruffling her hair, “you’ve got that right…between you and me, though, I like you better than both of them.”

Charlie giggled and hugged you, the two of you inseparable, just like when you were kids. You took a little longer to just breathe and enjoy the sweet moment with your sister, before finally releasing her.

She then got up and dusted off her suit, bright smile now firmly back in place, “now, let’s head back! I’m pretty sure Vaggie’s already got them working on their apologies, and I already have so many ideas for a new lesson plan on: selflessness and communication!”

You shook your head, but didn’t manage to quite hide your smile. Whatever happened, at least you would always have Charlie by your side…and Alastor and your father, if the two could manage not to kill each other.

“Those apologies better not be in fucking song format.”

“…I’ll text Angel.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #devotion's posts: requests🪻#devotion’s posts: fic stuff 🪻

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transmascissues · 2 months

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it's silly but the biggest reason why im not into t yet is bc im so afraid of losing my hair. do you have any solutions/tips for it?

first of all, i don’t think it’s silly — it’s natural to be worried when hair loss is talked about by so many people as like…one of the worst results of aging for men. listening to my dad talk about how much he hates balding definitely did not make me feel particularly good about the knowledge that i may very well be joining him someday. i’m not saying the fear is right, because i don’t think hair loss is something awful that we should avoid at all costs, but it’s an understandable fear given the beauty standards we’re working with, and it’s one that a lot of us (myself included) feel.

one thing that’s helped me is just…paying more attention to the guys that i interact with on a daily basis. i’ve learned two things from it: 1) hair loss is super fucking common. i’d say it’s much harder to find an adult man who isn’t balding at all than it is to find one who’s completely bald. and 2) if you forget everything you’ve been told about how bad hair loss is, you’ll realize that quite frankly, every single one of those guys looks totally fucking fine. it doesn’t ruin their appearance and make them ugly, it looks totally natural and isn’t really even something you’d notice if you weren’t looking for it. we put so much weight on it but it’s really just not that big of a deal. i’ll hear my parents talk shit about men in my family who are losing their hair when i didn’t even notice a difference last time i saw them. it’s one of those things (like so many other appearance-related things) that you really only notice at all because you’ve been taught that you’re supposed to care about it.

this isn’t something i’ve done personally, but if you really want to desensitize yourself to the idea of it, embrace the time-honored queer tradition of just shaving your whole damn head! find out what you’d look like without hair, find out how you feel about it and what you can do that makes you feel good about your appearance without hair, test the waters while it’s still a temporary change and not something permanent. that way, it won’t feel like this big scary unknown, and you’ll actually have a frame of reference for your feelings about how you look without hair rather than accepting the societal assumption that you’ll inevitably hate it. if you don’t want to actually shave your head, you could also just fuck around with bald filters or photoshop and see what happens.

oh, and if you’re attracted to men, keep an eye out for guys who are bald or balding and also hot as fuck. in my experience, there’s no insecurity or potential future insecurity that being gay for other men hasn’t helped me with. just off the top of my head, i can think of a couple actors who i think are absolutely fucking gorgeous who have helped me get over my fears about losing my hair. despite what our anti-aging-obsessed world might want you to think, there is no such thing as a physical feature that automatically makes someone less attractive, and while making attractiveness less of a priority in your life is good, it can’t hurt to also give yourself some proof that actually, you might lose your hair and look hot as hell doing it.

basically, entertain the possibility that it won’t be a bad thing at all! whether that’s just because it turns out to be a neutral thing for you or because you end up actually liking it, it’s not an inherently bad thing. i’ve ended up liking a lot of things that were “supposed to” be bad effects of t — i love the weight i’ve gained and the new shape it gives my body, i get a lot of gender euphoria from the fact that my acne is now on parts of my face that i saw a lot of guys in high school get it and i’m not complaining about the scars i get from it either because i’ve always liked the added texture that acne scars give my skin, and so on. i think there’s a lot of joy to be had in the changes we’re taught to fear, once we look past that conditioning and actually explore how we feel about it.

but if it’s something you really don’t want and you just want to improve your chances of not having to deal with it, it’s not like there’s nothing you can do! products like finasteride (oral) and minoxidil (usually topical but i think there might also be oral versions) are pretty commonly used among trans guys, for the purpose of avoiding hair loss and for other reasons, and there are plenty of other anti-hair loss products out there (though i don’t know how effective any one of them might be). if it’s a big enough deal for you, you can just decide that you’ll go off of t if/when you start noticing signs of it, since no longer having higher t levels would stop the process in its tracks. and if you don’t find prevention options that work for you so it ends up happening, you can always explore different hair styles (judging by the pattern of hair loss i see in my family, i suspect that keeping my hair long would make it less obvious if i started losing mine), find your preferred method of covering it when you don’t feel good about it (personally i love a good beanie generally and would probably wear them a lot more if i didn’t have hair to worry about because my main complaint is the way they press my hair onto my neck), or just shave it all off if you don’t like the look of the partial balding but don’t mind a shaved head. the point being — you have options!

at the end of the day, whether you go on t or not, you’re going to see your body change as you age in ways that aren’t always going to be attractive to others or aesthetically pleasing to you. that’s just the reality of having a body. even if you never went on t, you’d get older and you might see your hair thin out even if you don’t bald, you’ll see your skin start to wrinkle and sag in places that used to be smooth, your metabolism might slow or your body fat might start to gather in new places; hell, you might lose your hair for a totally different reason and end up in the same place but without the benefits of having been on t that whole time. life is full of bodily changes like that. transphobes will fearmonger about the permanent changes of testosterone all day long but the truth is, there is no escaping permanent bodily changes. whether or not you go on t, your body now isn’t the same as it will be in 1 or 5 or 10 or 20 or 50 years, just like it isn’t the same as it was at any point in your life before now. our bodies are never supposed to stop growing and aging and changing throughout our lives. there’s no guaranteeing that we’ll love every single change our bodies go through, but that’s okay! there are so many things in life that are more important than the way our bodies look. even if you go on t and lose your hair and don’t like how it looks, your life won’t be ruined; plenty of other things will bring you joy and more than make up for the insecurities.

just think about the gender euphoria and relief from dysphoria that t could give you. would losing your hair be bad enough to outweigh all of that? or is it just the pressure of a society that decided balding is bad that’s making you fear one single change despite how much joy you could have if you let that fear go? only you can decide if going on t is worth the potential downsides for you, but i suspect that for most of us, the benefits of going on t far outweigh the possibility of side effects like hair loss happening down the line.

#when i say i love helping people beat their fears about t this is what i mean. i will simply write a whole essay about it #some people might think it’s silly to answer a question like this so extensively #but i don’t think it is! i feel like this is a really common fear but also one i don’t see talked about much #maybe because it’s so common among cis guys that people don’t see it as a question to ask in trans spaces? idk #but i think we should talk about it more. especially when transphobes use it as a way to talk shit about t #ask answered #testosterone #hrt #ftm hrt #hair loss #trans men #transmascs

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scarrletmoon · 7 months

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okay i know the Discourse™️ has been going on for way too long at this point, but

i think some people outside of the OFMD fandom don’t actually get why we’re particularly annoying about this show

OFMD is not the first queer show to ever exist. if anything, it's a late entry in decades of queer media. over a year and a half since the first few episodes aired, everyone knows that OFMD is queer. that doesn't make it particularly special

but back in March? this is the trailer that dropped in February of 2022, 2 weeks before the premier. if you're used to seeing queer chemistry in shows that aren't intended to be queer, you might see the hints between Ed and Stede here. but to most people? it's just a silly little pirate comedy. just guys being dudes. the trailer doesn't even hint at the other 2 canonical queer relationships in the show -- the closest it gets suggesting romance is the music and the pink in the poster

so when people watched this show in March 2022, they went into it expecting subtext and nothing else. to them, it was like watching Sherlock or Supernatural or Merlin in the 2010s. if you were in any of those fandoms -- especially Sherlock and Supernatural -- you know what it was like; constant jokes at our expense, being mocked for creating explicit fanwork, made fun of by the creators and within the show itself. if we saw queer subtext, that was our problem. this was a time when you pretended NOT to be in fandom, for fear of ridicule. we kept our fanwork to ourselves, we DID NOT share it with the cast, and we accepted that our favourite ships would probably never be canon. maybe one day, if we were lucky, we'd have a show where the subtext wasn't mockery as much as deliberate foreshadowing -- but that had to be YEARS away

right?

OFMD was never billed as a queer show, not in the beginning. there was no LGBTQ+ tag on (HBO) Max, it wasn't on anyone's list of upcoming queer shows in 2022, it flew under the radar through most of its first season. this was a show about pirates, and sure, some of them were queer. but not the LEADS. if you think they're romantically involved, that's must be fandom brain poisoning

except the 9th episode aired, and they kissed. and the show said "you're not crazy for thinking they have chemistry because they really do. it's been a romance this whole time". and in the 10th episode, Stede realizes that he's in love

(not mandating you watch this clip if you don't care for the show, but there's something that feels particularly earth shattering about no one saying the word gay but knowing that Stede's realizing he is, that it's completely unambiguous and explicit in a way that only straight romances are usually allowed to be)

this is why people freaked out about this show. no one knew. even the creator, David Jenkins, was surprised when WE were surprised that it was gay for real -- he set out to write a love story, using all the tried and true beats of a rom com. he'd never even heard of the term queerbaiting. he looked at historical Blackbeard and Stede Bonnet and thought "oh, there's something here" and just...wrote that, with very little fanfare, like it was inevitable. like it was obvious. of course Jim and Pam end up together. of course Buttercup and Westley end up together. what kind of disappointing ending would it be if You've Got Mail ended with the main characters just going their separate ways?

so of course Ed and Stede are in love

look, i get it. we're annoying and won't shut the fuck up about this show that seems mediocre at best. i watched the whole thing back in march, thought "huh, that was cool" and was sure that i'd forget about it in a few days

an hour after looking at fanart on twitter, i was lost in the fucking sauce

there's just so much to unpack from a mere 10 episodes. it covers racism, toxic masculinity, gender expression, sexuality, trauma and abuse. and i don't think we should overlook the fact that the non-white characters in this show get to be fully human in a way i haven't seen in my favourite shows in recent memory

additionally, most OFMD are 25 or older. we're not people who've been spoiled by queer rep, who don't get how hard it used to be, how you'd have to grovel for scraps, how shipping and fanfiction was a way to find queer rep where we thought there never would be. we've been here. we're annoying about this show because for a lot of us, it's the first time we've been treated like our queerness isn't an anomaly that needs to be relegated to its own section, that needs to be praised for the bare minimum of acknowledging that we exist. it's not pulling punches to avoid scaring away a straight audience. it just is.

OFMD for me is like when i watched Black Panther for the first time and realized that this is what white people felt all the time. have there been other black superhero movies? of course! does Disney fucking suck? BOY does it. but that was the first time i got to sit in a movie theater and watch a mainstream film that looked at Africa and said "look at how beautiful you are, exactly as you are"

and idk. i think that's really cool

#scarrlet rambles #ofmd #cant wait for all 5 notes on this post #and dont be fucking mean i'm not trying to start shit #anon is off btw if you want to try that #we're going to have a productive conversation or none at all we're adults here #for some reason tumblr didn't save my links and stuff THANKS TUMBLR #anyway the typo version is floating around now i guess 🥲

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unboundprompts · 3 months

Note

Thank you so much for your blog! It's so neatly organized, it's lovely to read. It takes a lot of commitment to do detail every post and still constantly update, and I'm very grateful for you <3

I was wondering if you could write tips+prompts for a paranoid character?

Thank you again 😺

Thank you for the kind words!! That means a lot :)

How to Write a Paranoid Character

-> sources: mind.org , betterhealth.vic.gov

Paranoia is the irrational and persistent feeling that people are "out to get you."

Things that Make Paranoia More Likely:

Having confusing or unsettling experiences or feelings that you can't easily explain.

If you are anxious or worried a lot or have low self-esteem and expect others to criticize or reject you.

If you tend to come to conclusions quickly, believe things very strongly, and don't easily change your mind.

If you are isolated.

If you have experienced trauma in the past.

Things that may Contribute to Paranoid Thoughts:

Life experiences. You are more likely to experience paranoid thoughts when you are in vulnerable, isolated or stressful situations that could lead to you feeling negative about yourself.

Experiences in your childhood may lead you to believe that the world is unsafe or make you mistrustful and suspicious of others. These experiences may also affect your self-esteem and the way you think as an adult.

If you experience anxiety, depression, or low self-esteem, you may be more likely to experience paranoid thoughts.

Paranoia is sometimes a symptom of certain physical illnesses such as Huntington's disease, Parkinson's disease, strokes, Alzheimer's disease and other forms of dementia. Hearing loss can also trigger paranoid thoughts in some people.

Lack of sleep can trigger feelings of insecurity and even unsettling feelings and hallucinations. Fears and worries may develop late at night.

Recreational drugs may trigger paranoia, such as cocaine, cannabis, alcohol, ecstasy, LSD, and amphetamines. This may happen particularly if you're already feeling low, anxious or experiencing other mental health problems.

Research has suggested that genes may affect whether you are more likely to develop paranoia.

Symptoms of Paranoia:

being easily offended

finding it difficult to trust others

not coping with any type of criticism

assigning harmful meanings to other people's remarks

being always on the defensive

being hostile, aggressive, and argumentative

not being able to compromise

finding it difficult (or impossible) to "forgive and forget"

assuming that people are talking ill of them behind their back

being overly suspicious

not being able to confide in anyone

finding relationships difficult

considering the world to be a place of constant threat

feeling persecuted by the world at large

believing in unfounded conspiracy theories

Writing Prompts for a Paranoid Person

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

Everyone was against him. No one liked to see him succeed and so they were doing everything in their power to stop him.

People were talking about her behind her back. They would whisper as she walked by, and their laughter would echo in her ears as she got further from them.

"You never believe me!" They wailed, pointing an accusing finger at their friend. "You wouldn't get it! You don't know what it's like to be hated by everyone!"

He laid in bed, staring at the ceiling and wide awake. It was a nightly routine, at this point. He could never bring himself to close his eyes. There were too many things going on his head, too many things that only made him dread when morning came.

Everything was about to go so wrong so fast, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. The impending doom beat down on her shoulders, reminding her that she was not okay. She was not safe.

They couldn't stop fidgeting with their hands. It used to offer some form of comfort, but not anymore. How could it when the whole world is against you?

They were looking at him. They were watching his every move. He was being tracked. Studied. Something was going to happen. Something bad. Something he wasn't prepared for. What could he do to be prepared?

"You think I'm crazy, but I'm not! You'll see."

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

#writing prompts #dialogue prompt #creative writing #writeblr #prompt list #ask box prompts #paranoia #how to write a paranoid character #how to write #writing tip #writing characters #writing help #writing advice

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unhingedhiro · 3 months

Text

when s. coups becomes seungcheol

s. coups x f!reader

word count -> 1.6k

tags -> fluff, established relationship, slightly suggestive, just about barely proofread, sulky cheol, one (1) kim mingyu mention, domestic cheol (yea that needs its own tag)

hello i bring nothing but purely brainrot as a result of missing cheol + the image and mere concept of sulky choi seungcheol

S. coups. The so-called alpha leader of SEVENTEEN, leader of the hip-hop unit, an insanely gorgeous man with an equally gorgeous voice.

Yet, the man who sat infront of her was none of these things, and wasn’t S. coups either. No, the man pouting just opposite of her for forgetting to say “I love you”, was Choi Seungcheol, better known as Cheol.

He’s sits at their table, in the house they’d just recently bought, an adorable pout on the lips his fans had affectionately nicknamed ‘cherry lips’. The sight of such a cute facial expression completely contrasts the way he’s sat back, beefy arms folded across his broad chest, legs just slightly spread in a manner she could only describe as ‘absurdly attractive.’ The kind of attractiveness that would have fans completely speechless or in varying states of insanity. She doesn’t blame them. Choi Seungcheol, the man who was her beloved, was indeed a gorgeous man.

She’s knocked out of her thoughts by the aforementioned man clearing his throat in a particularly obnoxious, yet amusing manner. His eyes narrow as she jolts, a slightly sheepish, guilty smile at his direction.

“Sorry Cheol. Really.”, her voice is gentle, soothing.

It’s a voice she knows Seungcheol is absolute putty for, and indeed she knows it pays off when Seungcheol’s lips part slightly, before settling back into a pout that left her unsure whether to swoon or sigh.

“Sorry won’t cut it.”, he huffs. “Why didn’t you reply to my message?”

“..Message?”

This time, she is truly perplexed, and Seungcheol shoots a rather pointed glare in her direction before rummaging through his pocket for his phone. He ignores her small protests that she genuinely hadn't received a message, quickly scrolling through his chats. A moment passes, before the pouty expression on his face is quickly wiped away, replaced by surprise, before Seungcheol sheepishly returns his phone to his pocket. In a small voice, he finally speaks.

“That’s… my bad. I forgot to press send.”

A beat of silence passes before she bursts into laughter. The pout on Seungcheol’s face only grew larger, and once she’d realised this, she quickly made her way to him. She embraces him, an affectionate apology for having laughed and it doesn’t take long for Seungcheol to finally cave, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face into her shoulder. He pulls her onto his lap, igonoring her small yelp of surprise and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek.

“Wanted to message you about tonight, and that I love you.”

She smiles at his words, returning his kiss.

“It’s okay. I love you too, Cheol. I really do. Thank you for the surprise.”

The surprise in question had been coming back to a romantic candle-lit dinner, her favourite meal tastefully placed in a new set of plates she knew Seungcheol had definitely bought hours before she’d come back. Upon an initial bite, she’d instantaneously recognised it to be Mingyu’s recipe. Seungcheol knew from the way her face had lit up as soon as she’d had the first savoury, warm bite that she recognised it.

“Did you make this, Cheol?”

The man nods, surprised at her correct guess. As he responds, a small inkling of doubt crept up.

Did she not like it?

Contrary to his fear, she’d smiled a small smile and a nod of approval came with it.

“It’s more seasoned to my taste than when Mingyu makes it for all of us.”

Her remark encouraged Seungcheol to smile, an indicator of his pride at having nailed the seasoning. He watches as she polishes off her plate, seemingly having relentlessly devoured the food. Despite this, once she’d finished, she was gently sat back down after getting up to put the plates away. Confused, she cocks her head and the action almost makes Seungcheol want to forget even having considered the notion of confronting her.

“I’ll take the plates.”

“But Cheol-“

“No buts.”, he grabbed her plate before she could react, quickly bringing both plates to the kitchen.

“You worked hard today. Let me take care of you.”

His response provoked a sigh from her, as she muttered.

“You have a week back here Cheol, and you’ve done so much for me already.”

“It’s okay, I want to spend my week doing things for you.”, Seungcheol returned to the table, offering a glass of water, which she accepted.

As she sipped on the water he’d provided her, all she can say is,

“You’re too good to me.”

“Is that a bad thing?”, he teased, and she shook her head.

“No. I’m just grateful for it.”

She noticed his smile as he came back for the rest of the table, watching affectionately as she switched on the lights. The room is brought back to a much less romantic, more domestic tone, the candles having been blown out. Once the lights are on again, Seungcheol ambled his way over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling his face into her hair.

“You always say I’m too good to you, but really it’s the opposite.”

“Is it?”, she laughed, turning to face him and kissing him.

It doesn’t last long, but its enough for butterflies to slowly begin to flutter, and it felt like once more she’d just begun dating him again. The feeling of it is wondrous, something she finds is a common occurrence despite her years of being with Seungcheol.

He pulls away for a moment, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek before he gently guides her, large hand clasping her wrist, to the couch. It was then she notices he’d set out a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, and it clicks.

“A movie, Cheol?”

“Yeah.”

Seungcheol takes pride in the look of delight that practically blooms on her face, lips parted to say something. But before she can, he pulls her onto the couch. They fall, a tangle of limbs and giggles when he suggests,

“Howl’s Moving Castle?”

She nods enthusiastically, the previous tiredness in her eyes present as always. But this time, it’s overshadowed by sheer joy and affection.

“You know me so well.”

“Of course I do.”

He smiles into the kiss she proceeds to place on his lips and lets her shift around to a more comfortable position. As she does so, he reached for the remote and the bowl of popcorn, handing the latter to her. They make their way through the movie, Seungcheol’s infamous pout resurfacing when she cracks a joke about Howl. He doesn’t sulk for long however, a small mention of him being her Howl killing off any intentions he’d had of prolonging his pouting session. It’s a cheesy line, and he was being cheesy by affirming it, but after a long work day for her and a long three months’ worth of tour for Seungcheol, it was something they both appreciated.

Time to themselves, where nothing else in the world mattered apart from the both of them, entangled in each other’s arms, watching a movie they both enjoy while she lazily munches on popcorn Seungcheol had prepared, as the latter affectionately kisses her every few minutes or so, small murmurs of commentary running alongside it.

As Howl’s Moving Castle comes to a close, she finds that Seungcheol has gently removed the now empty popcorn bowl from her hands, placing it on the coffee table as he lifts her off the couch in a princess carry. The unexpected movement causes her to yelp, eyes widening in surprise before they soften once more as she realises what he’s doing.

Seungcheol carries her to their shared room, settling her onto the bed and laughing when she pulls him down to kiss him. He practically presses her into the bed, returning her mildly lazy kiss with an equal amount of enthusiasm, affection ever present on his lips. It elicits a sigh of satisfaction from her, and Seungcheol grins. He moves to place gentle butterfly kisses along her jawline, watching as she raises her head to give him more access. Yet, before he can trail his kisses down her neck, she stops him. Seungcheol looks up, confusion evident on her face and she offers a slightly guilty smile.

“Sorry, Cheol. I’m a bit tired today.”

At her request, he halts his movements, bringing himself back to eye level with her. As close as possible, at least.

“Sure you don’t want me to take care of you? You don’t need to do anything if you don’t want to.”

She shakes her head, the arms around his neck tightening.

“I want to sleep.”, she murmurs, and Seungcheol swears his heart melts upon hearing the vulnerability and fatigue in her voice.

Thus, he obliges, gently resting himself on top of her until she complains a few minutes later.

“Cheooool, get off. You’re heavy.”

He whines a little in protest, pouting and looking at her with soft doe eyes and she has to resist the urge to give in and let him lie there a little longer. Despite this, his weight was beginning to crush her, the feeling of it overwhelming and she shakes her head gently. Seungcheol smiles, rolling over, arms still enveloping her in a comforting warmth. She thanks him quietly before turning to face his chest, seemingly having knocked herself out. He notices her breathing having slowly become slower, more measured and deemed her dead asleep. The sight of it only makes him pull her closer to him, fighting a giggle that threatens to emerge when she buries her head deeper into his chest.

I could die like this, he thinks, stealing one last glance at her before succumbing to his own need to sleep.

#seungcheol fluff #choi seungcheol #scoups fluff #scoups x reader #seventeen fanfic #hiro brainrots

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malarign · 5 months

Text

who they were written by

contains: enhypen | genre: angst, comfort | tw! mentions of death, mention of major injury, lack of confidence, family problems, loneliness | wc: 1,0k

author’s note: let’s just say i chose violence 🫣 who the hell let me write this?

Lee Heeseung | 이희승

➶ an elder lady who reminiscents her past lover

Love never felt so blissful and serene as with him, making it hard to forget his small but meaningful gestures, like fresh morning coffee, his contagious laughter, and jokes that never failed to make her laugh. There was no day she didn’t miss him, death taking his beautiful soul too early, along with hers too. She felt like her life ended the day she lost him forever. Wanting to have at least a little substitute for feelings that accompanied their love she wrote Heeseung, who just like her late lover, is impossible not to love. Heeseung who is a pure example of chivalry and a true gentleman, who treats everybody with empathy and sympathy.

Park Jongseong | 박종성

➶ a man who regrets not letting his son pursue his passion

Watching how his son gets drowned in the huge corporate world that surrounds him. How there’s no sign of the spark in his eye that used to light up whenever he picked up his guitar. The boy who found such relief in playing his favorite songs and felt proud of mastering different riffs was long gone, now somewhat replaced by constantly tired and dispassionate about anything and everything. Regret filled his heart and decided to somehow find a remedy in creating Jay, who thanks to his burning love for music and the wonderful people surrounding him, achieved his dream, and performed his songs on big stages, igniting passion in his fans’ hearts.

Sim Jaeyun | 심재윤

➶ a boy who always felt lonely

Ever since primary school, he never had a friend to rely on, always feeling lonely and not heard. Nobody ever paid attention to him, neither at school nor at home. His parents invested their time mostly in his younger brother’s education and hobbies, driving him to his after-school football practices and maths tutoring and leaving the older one alone most of the time. To feel at least a tiny bit wanted and liked he wrote about Jake, as his older brother he never had, but always dreamt of. Days spent alone at home started to get more bearable and gradually he couldn’t wait to be left with him and his new best friend, with whom he played football and who helped him with his homework.

Park Sunghoon | 박성훈

➶ girl who lost her confidence in sport

Injury is the worst fear of any athlete including her, but once it happens it turns out to be much more. She never even imagined a day she would have to experience the pain of a twisted ankle, but now daily rehabilitation has become her reality. Even after complete recovery, her foot felt like it belonged to somebody else, not listening to her like before. Things that she had been doing easily now were her biggest enemy. All eyes of her teammates were filled with pity, and even her coach stopped spending her time helping her, increasing her misery. What helped her ease her mind was a boy she imagined named Sunghoon, who was the only male ice skater among all the girls, they isolated him by whispering to each other and watching his every fall. None of this stopped him from mastering every jump and technique he found hard in his tempo. If he was able to do that, she would too, even after a painful injury.

Kim Sunoo | 김선우

➶ girl who always wished to have a boy best friend

She always knew boy-girl friendships weren’t particularly the easiest - it’s easy to catch feelings and not every boy is trustworthy enough to be considered a friend. That’s why she desired it so much. Her every male friend ended up being a freak who had a bunch of weird opinions, turned out to be even misogynistic, or simply caught feelings for her when all she wanted was to have a companion. The more she tried the harsher the disappointment. To compensate, she started to imagine one, who she named Sunoo. Hanging out with him was just as she wanted, maybe that’s why she spent so much time in her head. Both of them had their weekly tradition of doing face masks and watching old romantic comedies, judging wrong doings of the characters but also simping to them, just like it happens in movies.

Yang Jungwon | 양정원

➶ a grandma who lost her grandson

Nothing could ever prepare her to lose him, who just like cherry blossoms sweetened her old days with his pure smile and eyes full of curiosity, after years of endless winter. But, the thing about cherry blossoms is, it doesn’t last long. Her grandson, contrary to pink petals, wouldn't be back in a year, he would be gone forever. That pure smile and curious eyes disappeared, or should I say, were ripped off her arms so brutally, so pitilessly. Her life came back to the excruciating dullness and silence. She couldn’t stop thinking about how her lovely boy would grow up, what hobbies he would pick up, and who he was going to love, since he didn’t have a chance to experience any of that, subconsciously creating Jungwon, who lived surrounded by love and gave it to others. Who never lost his pure smile and curious eyes, just like her grandson.

Nishimura Riki | 西村力

➶ girl who always danced alone in her room

She always knew her destiny was on the dance floor. Even her tiny bedroom she had to share with her two younger siblings. Or the daily nagging and lack of support from her parents. Even the fact that she had to do that all by herself. None of that stopped her from doing everything to achieve her dream of standing on stage, in blinding spotlights with crowds watching her moves. Her main inspiration was Riki, a boy she imagined had the same dream as her. In contrast to her, Riki had everything she ever wanted and needed to make things easier - a family full of great dancers, who also owned a dance studio and great teachers and mentors from whom he learned not only different techniques but also to love dancing.

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

taglist: (open) @nicholasluvbot, @en-chantedtomeetyou, @skzenhalove, @kpoprhia, @redm4ri, @yenqa, @heesitation, @candewlsy, @jaelaxies

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tarjapearce · 8 months

Note

small request ^^

for the soccer family, in gabis early toddler days, Miguel and wife!reader still nervous and getting used to be parents of their baby growing and changing. Miguel firsts long shift at work in awhile and comes home worried about his girls, to find wife doing Gabis hair humming peacefully to her as they sit in comfortable silence

hopefully that make sense, if too much don’t worry about writing it ty :)

Hope it worths the wait 🥹✨

Ever since you and Miguel became first time parents, the initial panicky state you both lived in were slowly but surely easing as Gabriella turned bigger and healthier.

If she was crying out of nowhere? Doctor. Her poop wasn't the right color? Doctor. She refusing her baby formula? Doctor.

You had certainly ran to the hospital the first time Gabriella cried so hard she forgot to breathe, teary eyed and panicky, Miguel had to fly from his work to go to the hospital to meet you, only to be meekly reprimanded by the doctor that at this point seemed to know you both.

"She's fine. It's a completely normal thing they do, they just forget how to breathe for a moment. She's fine."

The pediatrician had told you, You both were just happy that little Gabi was fine and that it was all a scare.

------

His thoughts couldn't help but wander towards you and Gabi. We're you fine? Was everything fine? You hadn't called, which divided his thoughts in 'is she okay?' and 'She's gonna be fine."

It was rare when you didn't call him to report the current status of your adoring little girl, that loved to sleep in his broad chest as he caressed her hair. Gabriella was a Papa's girl through and through.

If she was particularly fussy, Miguel would be the one that would pick her up and rock her to sleep as you prepared her bottle.

Hours passed and still no signs from you. Another hour passed and it was enough. It had been his extra work that put him on edge.

These extra hours had surely been squeezing any chance to go home faster and help you with his part of the parenthood.

Once he was done, he clocked out and ran through the streets to get home.

He called your name, desperation mixed with fear as he came close to appreciate the scene before him. Curled in the rocking chair were you, combing Gabi's soft, wavy and ravenous strands, sang to her a little nursery rhyme song.

You made one of your hands to made a 'shh' noise, everytime he moved in closer.

Gabi had lost the little battle against sleepiness a while ago. Miguel picked her up and kissed her forehead, earning a photo-worthy pose of Gabi and himself.

"Thanks Papa" You smiled as he went to Gabi's room. He had been concerned when his phone had remained quiet the whole day, and even worst when little Gabi had been 'recovering' from that scary episode.

But seeing her all quiet, peaceful and certainly deep in sleep soothed his nerves so comfortingly and it also grounded him. He couldn't fear forever, neither you and him could.

"We are." He nodded, relieved with a small smile.

Sighing, he went back to you and wrapped his generous arms around you, a kiss on your temple.

"Why didn't you called me?"

"Gabi was asleep and quite entertained the whole day with a pair of munching toys, I forgot to call you. Sorry"

"It's fine. We can't fear forever."

You nodded and caressed his arms

"I know. It's scary, but I think we're doing a pretty good job."

Another kiss and a smooth caress on your skin.

"We certainly are."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #talking with t✨#miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #t writes✨#dad miguel o'hara #gabi o'hara #soccer family ⚽🕷️#miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff

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ohbo-ohno · 6 months

Text

Kinktober Day 15 - Noncon

Ghost x Reader - 4.6k (on ao3)

summary: You find yourself cornered in a Maze of Mirrors. (Reader POV)

cw: noncon everything, face fucking, pussy slapping, degradation, kinda a wedgie? like a front wedgie? is that a thing?, orgasm denial

note: if you like this (or hate it but like the concept) read Halloween Haunt by Harley Laroux <3 her erotica is top tier

You’ve always loved Halloween - always been the kid with the scariest costume in class, always had the house decorated with uncomfortably realistic decorations. When your sorority sisters dressed up as black cats and sexy witches, you spent hours painting the most realistic zombie makeup you could. (Your sisters complained for months that you ruined the pictures, but the frat boys had all thought your makeup was far more interesting than theirs. God, you do not miss college.)

Regardless, you’ve always been known to love any and everything scary. There’s something about the thrill of a scare - the creeping horror as you start to realize what’s coming, the ultimate reveal - that always gets you a little squirmy in your seat. Your first crush was Skeet Ulrich in Scream - specifically the scene where he’s covered in blood, licking his fingers.

You get all those ooey-gooey good scared feelings as your friend drags you through the decently crowded fairgrounds. The actual fair - the one that comes yearly, that no one ever calls anything but the fair - had left only two weeks ago, so this travelling fair had set things up in mostly the same arrangement and, you suspect, to trick certain people into thinking they were the same company.

You’ve already forgotten what your friend said the event was called. She hadn’t needed to give many details to convince you - you heard travelling circus, horror themed, interactive workers, and you were in. The branding isn’t very strong anyways, the only place the name was displayed was the entrance booth, and none of the workers seem to wear any sort of logo, so you don’t feel too forgetful for letting it slip your memory so easily.

You’re not very impressed with the fear factor so far. You hadn’t done too much makeup (hadn’t wanted to risk being mistaken for a cast member) but since it’s the night before Halloween you’ve got a half-done costume on - a clown. Just some white face paint, black lips, and overdrawn triangles around the eyes, a little smudged to make it look like you’ve been chasing someone down and working up a sweat. Your hoodie and tennis skirt look a bit out of place, but you’d wanted to be comfortable since you hoped you’d be spending your night running from actors.

But even a face full of makeup feels like it might’ve been too much effort for this place. Most of the costumes look like they’re from Party City at best - some of them even look very lazily hand-made - and none of the workers seem particularly interested in scaring people. Still, the crowd is easily amused and even a wave or a feint towards a customer has shrieks ringing in the air every few minutes.

You sigh a little disapointedly as you and your friend linger on the edge of the fairgrounds, off to the side and in the dark so you don’t have to deal with the crowd. She pulls out a cigarette and offers you her light.

“I’m sorry,” she says, lighting the stick between your teeth when you lean forward. “I really thought it would be scarier than this. Some of the posters…” she exagetates a shiver. “I thought they’d at least have better costumes.”

You eye a man in a werewolf mask across the pathway, pissing into the dirt. He’s got a flannel and jeans on, and the mask is a little bit crumpled like he pulled it out of a Walmart bin this morning. You’d bet money the flannel was just a happy coincidence he noticed when he showed up for work.

“Yeah,” you sigh, blowing out a lungful of smoke and watching the actor try not to get his dick stuck in his zipper. “Not really your fault, though, these things always look scarier in the ads. Wanna get out of here soon?”

You pass the cigarette to her. “In a bit,” she replies. “I want to try and find some food first. You hungry?”

You shake your head with a grunt. “I wouldn’t trust anything cooked here, honestly. Might just pick up something on the way back.”

She passes you the cigarette for one last breath. “Well I’m too hungry for that. You good on your own for a bit?”

You crouch down a moment to stub out the cigarette, leaving the butt in the gravel. “Yeah, sure. Might see if these fun houses have anything worth seeing in them.”

“You should!” She smiles over her shoulder at you as she starts off to a more well-lit section of the fair. “You never know, maybe they stick the real scares in there!”

You give her a final wave and shout, “Here’s hoping!” at her back as she leaves.

You linger outside for a little longer, scanning the few structures nearby to decide which one you want to waste a few tickets on.

There’s a Freak Show, but you already know you’d be horribly disappointed if you went in there, something labeled a “House of Horrors” that you’re sure is as much a scam as the freak show, and a few games that have cheap prizes lined up above them.

Across from you, with no lights around it and just one attendant - slumped over, hopefully sleeping - at the front, is a House of Mirrors. Figuring it’s the least likely to be a waste of time (and knowing the kid won’t wake up to charge you), you head over to the building.

The closer you get the more you worry about if he’s asleep or dead, but his snores rattle the little tickets resting on his desk so you figure he’s just a slacker. It’s almost too easy to get by him with all your tickets safe in your pocket. There’s no one else around the darkened corner of the fairgrounds, but you’re quite sure no one would bother snitching on you this late at night. All the parents with little kids left hours ago, leaving mostly teenagers and adults of varying ages left to wander the park.

There’s music playing from speakers that you can’t see, an old clown-themed song that sounds like it’s playing on a scratched up DVD. You’re pleasantly surprised as you make your way through the dusty lobby and into the main section of the building, creatively labeled MAZE OF MIRRORS.

Their branding could definitely use some work, but you’ll give them points for ambience - the lights are turned so low that it’s nearly too dark to see, making all of the mirrors even more difficult to spot. You find yourself a little spooked as you start to make your way through the maze, grinning to yourself.

It’s a shockingly difficult maze, you quickly discover. The music is so loud in some spots that you can hardly hear your thoughts, and so faint in others that you think it might be turned off. The maze itself is a series of either tight, tiny hallways or large open rooms. Whoever designed it clearly knew how to take advantage of the space they were given, the maze feels ten times bigger than it looked on the outside as you wander through.

You know the trick to mazes - keep one hand on the right wall and eventually you’ll find your way out - but it’s fun to just wander around the place, so you let yourself get stuck wandering in circles. You’re glad your friend isn’t here to see how many times you manage to walk into a mirror fully confident that it’s not there, only to whack yourself in the face. For how low maintenance the rest of the fair is, you’re surprised that the hall of mirrors is what they focus their upkeep on.

You’ve been in the maze for about five minutes when you see him.

He scares the shit out of you at first. You spot him behind you in a mirror - one you’d just walked into, which is the only reason you can see well enough to notice him - standing at the entrance to the hallway you’d turned down. He’s clad in all black, except for the skull mask over his face. You think he’s just something taped onto the wall with the way that he blends in, but then that mask titls to the side and you’re struck with the bone-deep knowledge that you’re being watched.

“Shit!” You shout when it first registers that he’s not a piece of paper, one hand coming up to clasp at your erratically beating heart while the other steadies you against the mirror. He doesn’t move past tilting his head a bit further, and after a moment you relax.

You don’t turn around, but you study him a bit in the mirror. It’s too dark to see much more than the outline of his body, but he’s big. He looks like he’s wearing a long sleeved t-shirt and jeans with the mask, and he must be wearing gloves to cover his hands since you can’t see them.

You huff out a laugh as you let both of your hands fall to your sides.

“You got me good,” you call, glancing over your shoulder. You almost jump again - he’s closer than you’d realized, but too far away for you to touch. “I didn’t even see you follow me in here.”

He doens’t say anything. You turn around more fully, leaning back against the mirror and crossing your arms across your chest.

“You gonna start chasin’ me now?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow. You’re playing up the sass, but it’s always fun to mess with theme park employees.

The man takes a few steps forward, heavy boots thudding against the cheap wood flooring. He really is an intimidating bastard, far scarier than any of the other actors you’d seen so far.

“Well?” You call out, standing up from your spot. “Do I get a head start?”

Still no answer. He rolls his head on his neck, then steps to the side and walks into one of the connecting hallways without sparing you a glance. When you step closer to see which direction he’s chosen, he’s already gone.

You huff another laugh to yourself, shaking out your limbs and bouncing a few times on your toes.

Now that you know there’s someone in here with you, the thrill of a scare is starting to get you worked up. You hope they don’t have any rules against physical contact between actors and customers, just imagining the skeleton man tackling you has shivers running up your spine.

You don’t bother to be any quieter as you keep wandering through the maze. You bump into just as many mirrors, continue to question the speaker placement, and keep an eye out for any skeleton masks lingering behind you.

You see him a few more times, always behind you, always just out of reach. He gets progressively closer everytime you spot him. You're reminded of the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who - every time you look away, he gets closer.

It’s fun. More fun than you’ve had all night.

He finally catches up to you what you guess is about half an hour later. Youre just turning another corner, thinking about how it’s been a bit since you’ve seen your shadow, when a hand plants itself firmly between your shoulder blades and shoves.

You’re sent to the ground with a cry, palms scraping against the floor. There’s a gloved hand collaring your throat before you can think to do much more than catch your breath, hauling you up and holding you in the air.

Your eyes fly to the mirror less than a foot away, staring wide-eyed at the image reflected.

There’s you, in your messy clown makeup and hoodie, being held up by a giant swath of black behind you. He’s not ducking down at all, his feet planted on either side of your splayed legs as he towers above you. The way you’re being held up, your head doesn’t even reach his belt buckle. The contrast of your shock and discomfort to his plastic mask has your thighs clenching, just a bit.

He doesn’t duck lower, just tilts his head in that now-familiar way of his and pulls you a little further up. His hand is absolutely massive, thumb resting beneath one ear and his fingers resting below the other. You choke a bit as you’re lifted, knees scrambling beneath you.

This close to the mirror you can see his eyes - bright blue, surrounded by black paint, and staring back into yours.

He lowers his head, his free hand tugging your hair until you lean back and look straight up. The hand on your neck shifts to hold you in that position, his other hand lifting to pull the black part of his mask up.

He’s white, with thin lips and a broad jaw. You pant as you stare up at him, incapable of processing what’s going on.

His jaw works for a moment, lips twitching, and before you realize what he’s about to do you feel something wet splatter against your cheek.

He spit on you. Who the fuck does that? Being tackled and manhandled is one thing but spitting? You recoil reflixivley, lips curling as you reach up to try and wipe disgusting liquid off.

“What the fuck-” You start, but before you can even finish your sentence you’re yanked forward by your neck.

You yelp as you’re thrown from between his thighs, hips twisted awkwardly and head slamming back against the mirror. You cry out at the sharp pain at the back of your skull, but before you can think of doing anything there’s a hand around your neck again, a body crouched in front of you - over you - keeping you from doing anything.

You gape up at the actor, panting and surprised. None of the other employees even got close to touching customers - half of them didn’t even look like they wanted to be there - what the hell is this guy’s problem? Does he just take his job way too seriously

He’s far too close to you now, your nose nearly brushing where his shoulder be, his boots on either side of your thighs, his chest pressed so close that you can’t do anything with your hands.

The hand not around your neck comes up to your cheeks, grabbing them both in one hand and pinching until your lips pucker up. You squirm, letting out a noise of surprise and pain when his thumb and pointer finger dig in between your teeth to force your mouth open. One eye squeezes shut at the ache, but there’s nowhere for you to go with him caging you in.

This time when he spits, it lands right in the little hole he’s made for himself. With how close he is, you see the way his lips twitch up in the corners.

You try your best to get out from under him, hands pushing at his shoulders and legs desperately kicking. But he’s like a statute above you, hard as stone and immoveable.

He leans so close that his lips nearly brush yours, meeting your glare with a spark of amusement.

“Like how it tastes?” He purrs, chest rumbling against yours.

You make a noise somewhere between offended and annoyed, trying to throw yourself every which way for even an inch of freedom. All you manage is a tighter grip on your jaw and neck, leaving you wincing.

“Lots more where that came from,” he promises.

It’s insultingly easy for him to manhandle you, and you curse all the times you swore to yourself you’d finally start taking self-defense classes. You can barely manage a single blow, and when your hands or feet do make contact he doesn’t even flinch.

There’s absolutely nothing you can do as you’re wrestled to the floor. He gets you flat on your back then kneels over your head, his knees so close that you worry he’ll squeeze them together and pop your head like a berry.

He doesn’t give you a chance to sit up, planting one heavy hand in the center of your chest and leaning his weight forward, knocking the air out of you. You finally regain the ability to speak when his other hand moves to his belt, undoing it right above your face.

“What are you-? No, no, get the hell off me!” You shout, desperately pushing at his arm and trying to get enough leverage with your feet to squirm away. “Don’t you fucking dare- help! Somebody help!”

Your screams go ignored, blending right in with that stupid clown music and bouncing off the mirrors just to come straight back to your ears. Your noise doesn’t deter him at all, and he’s got his belt off and jeans yanked down despite your resistance.

“No, no, no, don’t- stop, please, you can’t-” you gasp, eyes flying wide as you find yourself staring up at his cock above you.

He doesn’t give you any warning, just grabs your jaw, holds it open, and sheathes himself down your throat.

Your limbs spasm, every instinct in your body screamin to get away as he slips right past your gag reflex. You’re terrified that you’ll vomit and choke on his cock, the fear dousing you in icy cold and leaving you limp for a minute. All you can think about is breathing around the intrusion in your throat, finding some way not to suffocate and die on a sticky mirror maze floor.

“Finally,” you hear him grunt from above you. He grabs both of your wrists, easily ignoring your weak pulls and tying them together with his belt. “Somethin’ to shut you up.”

You try and make a sound around his cock, yanking your hands away and panicking even more when you feel how firmly tied they are. You make another sound, insitively trying to cry out even with something stuffed in your mouth.

He moans above you, lowering himself to his elbows over your body. “Yeah, just like that,” he pants. “Mouth feel’s fuckin’ heavenly.”

You go silent, determined not to give this piece of shit anything he wants. Tears pour down your temples and across the tops of your ears, and your throat burns.

His hips move slowly against your face, grinding himself as deep as he can get before pulling out just a few inches and sliding back in. He’s got an unfairly large cock, and there’s already an ache developing in your jaw from just seconds held so wide open.

His foreskin catches on your teeth when he pulls the whole way out just to fuck back in, and you’re sharply reminded of the fact that you have teeth.

When his cock bottoms out, his balls resting against your eyes, you bite down, praying it’s enough to break skin.

It’s not. Instead of blood pouring into your mouth and a screaming man falling off of you, you hear the man snarl, pulling his dick out entirely and slamming it back down your throat so harshly that it feels almost like he’s punched you in the face.

“No fucking teeth,” he snaps above you, and you feel his weight shift back onto his knees, then his hands grab at your thighs and throw them open. He flips your skirt up and before you can think to bite down again lands a stinging slap against the gusset of your underwear.

You nearly scream around his cock, hips snapping closed to try and smother the pain. He only growls another sound, using one hand to hold you open and the other to rain down a series of progressively harder smacks.

Your breath hitches as you sob, hardly able to get any air in around his thrusts as he starts them back up again. Every time he buries himself to the hilt inside of you, he lands another hit to your poor pussy. You can’t help but wail around him.

“There it is,” he moans, the sound loud and unrestrained. “God you feel good screamin’ around my cock. Good fuckin’ hole, huh?”

He punctuates the last four words with slaps, leaving his length inside your throat and going back to that horrible grinding against your face. You go silent again, using all of your willpower to keep from screaming. What little thought is left in your head is used to figure out how best to breathe through your nose without choking on snot.

He doesn’t smack you again, but you feel his fingers trace around the edges of your panties. Your hips wiggle against your will, just trying to get away from the violation. One of your legs is pinned to the floor by the thigh, but the other oscillates between going limp and trying to get leverage and force your body up.

His fingers hook around the gusset of your underwear, but before you can even worry about him touching you there, he pulls them up towards your body.

He does it with such force that you’re left squealing, hips flying off the ground to try and lessen the pressure against your clit. His hand pulls so far up that you feel it resting nearly at your belly button. You can’t help the little gasping, gagging noises as he starts to thrust in and out of your mouth again.

You hear - you feel - him laugh, swaying his hand from left to right. Your hips try to follow naturally, just desperate to alleviate any of the pressure you can.

“Like a little puppet,” he murmurs, yanking even further up, moaning when you scream.

He lets them go only a few thrusts later, big hand smoothing the fabric down over your cunt. You can feel that it’s stretched out, a little looser around the meat of your pussy, and the thought only makes you cry harder.

But you go silent again. It’s the one thing left in your control - even pinned to the floor, hands tied, legs useless, mouth stuff, you can decide how much noise you make.

He doesn’t like that. He groans a little when you go quiet again, tapping your thigh sharply.

“No, come on, make your little noises again. Feels real nice on my cock.”

This time you’re ready for the smack against your vulva, and you remain silent. You stay silent for the next three too.

His hips work with a little more force again, balls smacking against your face and leaving you to squeeze your eyes shut. After the next slap his hand doesn’t lift again, just rubs over your vulva slowly.

It’s pure luck on his part that he happens to rub over your clit. It’s a pure lack of luck on your part that you moan at the sudden and unexpected pleasure, completely taken off guard.

He stills above you, then slowly repeats the movement. You’re helpless to the little whimpers coming from your throat, and you curse the fact that you’ve always been loud during sex. He zeros in on exactly how to rub your clit unreasonably quickly, fingers sure through the fabric of your underwear.

“That what you need?” He rumbles a laugh above you. “Pain won’t make you noisy, but pleasure will? I can work with that.”

Before you can even begin to question what that means, your underwear are tucked to the side, and there’s a face buried in your pussy.

He doesn’t bother taking any time to explore or try and learn your body, just dives tongue-first to your clit. His technique of lick first, figure out what feels good later unfortunately works on you, and you’re left writhing beneath him, eyes rolled back in pleasure and moans muffled.

He groans agaisnt you, too, lips vibrating against your clit in a horrible and delicious way. “There you go.” You can barely hear him over the sounds of your own choking, especially with his own voice muffled in your folds. “That feels good, keep going.”

You don’t want to, but the magic he works against your clit leaves you no choice. You can’t help the hitched cries spilling from your lips, even if they make you cry all that much harder as you hear them.

He doesn’t take much longer to come, and you’re torn between resenting the fact that it’s your sounds that get him off and being glad that he does so he can get off of you.

He comes with a loud groan, sent right into your cunt and dragging you far too close to an edge you do not want to see, and sends thick ropes right down your throat. It’s almost a kindness that you can’t taste him, only have to swallow as quickly as possible so you don’t choke. The movements of your throat only draw out his orgasm though, and you’re locked in a terrible cycle for what feels like an eternity.

He doesn’t get you off. You’re not sure if you’re thankful or not.

You gasp when he finally pulls out of your throat, taking uninhibited breaths for the first time in far too many minutes. You can’t shut your jaw from the pain, but you also can’t kick your legs when he kneels up more fully.

He’s silent as he takes back his belt, and no matter how much you beg your arms to move, they remain still on your stomach. He shifts off of you, and you whine wordlessly when he grabs a handful of your hair, wiping his flaccid cock off in it.

Still, you don’t move.

He stands and redoes his belt silently, the jingle loud even with the clown music still playing. You stare up at him, and he holds eye contact with you. For some reason, you can’t look away.

He crouches down again before he leaves, and you can’t help but flinch away. He doesn’t touch you sexually again, though, only reaches out and pushes your jaw closed with two firm fingers.

You hate that he still has the mask pulled up, because it means you can see his smirk.

“That was fun. Maybe we’ll do it again sometime.”

He’s gone before you manage to understand what he’s said, and the tears start all over again when you do.

—

It takes you a while to scrape yourself off of the floor. You only catch sight of yourself in one mirror before you stare at the ground.

Your makeup is ruined, teartracks running down your temples and both cheeks. There are smudges along your jaw where his hands grabbed. Your lips are swollen and red. It could not be more obvious what’s just happened to you.

You plant one hand on the wall to your right, and keep your eyes firmly planted on your sneakers as you leave the maze. You feel almost detached from yourself, unable to truly understand what happened, what it means.

The throbbing between your thighs is distracting. You worry you might chafe from how soaked your panties are.

It doesn’t take long to find your friend once you finally make it out. She takes one look at you and laughs, teases you about having fun without her. You can’t bring yourself to correct her, and she picks up on your tone quickly, dropping the subject.

The two of you walk silently to your car. You hate it, but you can’t help but scan every actor. Thankfully - or maybe not thankfully? You don’t know anymore - none of them are even close to as big as the masked man in the hall of mirrors was.

You tuck your hands beneath your armpits as you finally make it to the parking lot, walking as quickly as you can get away with without running. Your limbs go a little looser as you get to your car, mind relaxing as it recognizes how close you are to safety.

You freeze when you finally make it to the driver’s side door, lungs going still and heart beating so quickly you worry it’ll pound right out of your chest.

There, sitting in the driver’s seat, is a skeleton mask sewed onto a balaclava.

#this is not very edited but i am BEHIND #this was originally gonna have like two more scenes but then it started to annoy me #i am coming to you again to confess: i did not read through this #ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #kinktober #kinktober day 15 #bo writes #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kinktober 2023

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railingsofsorrow · 13 days

Text

you are in love (taylor's version)

[spencer reid x reader]

SONG INSPIRATION » YOU ARE IN LOVE (TAYLOR'S VERSION) by taylor swift

summary: moments in which you realise you love him, but he has no idea.

pairing: s.reid x gn!reader

w.c: 2.4K

warnings/content: friends to lovers trope; angst because spencer is an oblivious idiot; case related discussion; fluff I promise; a whole paragraph in italics means it's a flashback.

A/N: sorry for the delay to post this I've been busy. hope you like it, have a great day <3

[part of the “taylor swift anthology”]

navi

masterpost

taylor swift anthology

criminal minds masterlist

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ morning, his place

burnt toast, sunday

you keep his shirt

he keeps his word. ❞

“I thought we agreed that you were not allowed in the kitchen.”

Your voice startles Spencer for a second. He flinches while trying to pull the slight burned toast out of the toaster. Your mouth is pulled into a grin as you notice his messy curls on the top of his head, his hands working fast on turning the tap on to diminish the burning sensation on his fingers.

“I am not that terrible.” Spencer hisses, pouting at his red fingertips. “I can make breakfast... I think.”

“Without setting yourself on fire? I seriously doubt that.” You tease him, approaching his hunched frame over the sink. With a soft touch on his shoulder, you take his hand on yours and lead it towards the water. You nudge him playfully. “Thank you for this, it smells great.”

Spencer lets out a huff in protest but the corner of his lips betray him. His heartbeat as fast as a racing car as if he had been running away from someone, all because of your touch on him.

Last night was a rough one for you.

You didn't feel particularly great after a case and you completely shut down anyone who tried to talk to you. That included Spencer, but you weren't able to delay your conversation as he invited you over for a movie night, a request you could tell he needed as much as you did, and you ended up sleeping over at his place as many other times before. However, this time, it was different.

Not because you slept in one of his shirts and his smell lingered near you on the bed during the night but because you sobbed into his chest and he held you into his arms, comforting your shaky frame as his hands traveled across your back and neck with the utmost care in the world.

Although physical touch wasn't his forte, Spencer didn't seem bothered to cling to you the whole night, and his touch was more than welcomed by you. You fell asleep in his bed, in his shirt and in his hold. It was the best night sleep you've had in months.

❝ and for once, you let go

of your fears and your ghosts

one step, not much

but it said enough ❞

“You think it could work out?” You asked him one day in the middle of your chess match on your way back home. Everybody else was dozing off while the two of you remained in your own little bubble. Tired but not enough to refuse a chess game.

Spencer moved one of his pawns forward, eyes traveling up to you questioningly. “What could work out?”

“You know,” you trailed off, biting your lower lip distractedly as you thought about your next move. You were going to lose anyway, might as well make the best of it to not be a total fool in front of Spencer. He'd get pretty smug after he won and though you can admit that you found it endearing, you hated losing. “Two members on the team in a committed relationship.”

“The fraternization policy—”

“Spence, c'mon.” You give him a short laugh. “Forget the stupid fraternization policy. I want to know if you think it could work out.”

He was silent for a moment, pondering over your request and you could tell he was probably gathering as many statistics as he could to provide you an answer. Truthfully, you don't know why you had asked that. Your previous conversation had initiated because you commented that you still had not found a dress to Derek and Savannah's wedding, you had no idea why it ended up on that question. You blamed exhaustion for your poorly choice of topic.

“It depends on who you're talking about.”

You shrugged, crossing your leg over the other. “No one in particular. I was just... thinking.”

“If they manage to be professional while at work then I don't see how it would be a problem.” Spencer concludes, the corners of his lips twitching as he notices your slip. He wins the match not long after. Not that you were surprised.

“Would you do it?” You were responsible for the disturbance of silence once again, but the question has been hanging over your head since your previous conversation. What if it was... us? Would it work out? Has it ever gone through your mind like it has with mine? “Actually, don't answer that. It's none of my business, I'm just sleepy and asking dumb questions.”

“Yes.” He answered after a beat, lifting his attention from the book to you. His gaze piercing into your curious one. “If it was worth it.”

❝ you can hear it in the silence ❞

“You don't have to apologize for rambling.” You said, throwing a pillow at him after he suddenly cut himself off, blushed bright red and apologized. “I like to hear you talk. All the time.”

“All the time?” Spencer raised a questioning brow as if he didn't trust your words. You can see why, given that most of the people you know rudely interrupt him in the middle of his speech about something he's passionate about.

You nodded, your mouth slowly stretching into a soft smile. “Yes. All the time. I mean it.”

His honey brown eyes scanned you for a long minute before he resumes his explanation about why Jung's ideas seemed to make more sense than Freud's. You listened to it, chipping in every now and then with a hum or a simple question. You'd do anything to keep him speaking, Spencer's voice was calming as observing the ocean on an empty beach. It's quiet and grounding. Peaceful.

❝ one night he wakes

strange look on his face

pauses, then says

you're my best friend

and you knew what it was

he is in love ❞

At some point, you drift off with your head leaning on his shoulder. His fingers carefully brushing stray strands away from your lashes. He was always so careful with you.

“You're my best friend.” You are able to hear. You don't move. You don't breathe. The following statement makes you glad you don't, because you wouldn't act with your head but with your heart and you didn't know if that was wise at that moment. “What if I love you a little more than that?”

❝ you can hear it in the silence ❞

There is a coffee cup waiting for you on your usual place at the roundtable one morning. The logo from your favorite coffee shop and you could practically taste the drink before it was even in your mouth.

He always knew your favorite order. And it seemed like he'd rather get you coffee from a place on the other side of town before work than actually exchange words with you.

A week after you slept over at Spencer's place, it all changed too quickly. He stopped answering your texts and proceeded to avoid you as much as he could during cases. You really tried to find the reason of why that could be happening. Did you do something? Did you overwhelm him in some way? But again, how was it fair to be treated so cold by your best friend if you didn't even know what you did?

So you don't apologize. You just treat him the same way. But you don't hold onto that coldness for long, because after the evening came around and you earned a busted lip and a concussion from an Unsub, Spencer finally seems to acknowledge your presence. He doesn't leave your side for the whole time the paramedic is examining you.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you say, clenching your jaw after the paramedic finished their job. “Seems like you care for my wellbeing even if you're avoiding me.”

“Don't walk too fast. You still have a concussion.” He follows you as you walk towards the car. You turn around, too quicky for you liking cause your vision spins for a second until it focuses again. Spencer's about to say something, reprehend you, more likely, when you interrupt him with fury in your tone.

“And why do you care?” You fire at him. “It's not like you've been ignoring my entire presence for a week, is it?”

Spencer's widened eyes tell you he doesn't expect you to lash out like that.

“I- I haven't been ignoring you.” Spencer stumbles with words. Excuses. You let out a scoff, turn around and walk off to the second car Hotch would be driving. Rossi and Emily are talking amongst themselves when you enter the backseat and shut it without a second word.

Emily eyes both your figure inside the car and Spencer helplessly weighing his options of going after you or letting you go.

He decides on the latter, she observes as he retreates back to the other car where JJ, Derek and Blake are already getting ready to leave.

Upon arriving back at Quantico, the first thing you did was say your goodbyes to everyone and immediately head to grab your stuff on your desk, observing the remaining twenty manila folders for a split of second until you harshly decided on going home and finish them tomorrow.

“I am not avoiding you- Not, not on purpose.” Spencer clenches the strap of his satchel, watching you freeze as you are about to open your car door. You hadn't give it much thought when he left at the same time you did since you always parked close and he would probably ignore you again. You're tired of playing games, if he wanted to withdraw from your life without a reasonable explanation, then so be it. Well, at least for tonight. You need at least one good night sleep without Spencer Reid controlling your mind. “I'm sorry.”

You turn around quickly, not realising how close he is until both of you took a step back as if you have been burned. With pink cheeks from either the cold or embarassement, you cross your arms trying to get a grip on yourself, focusing on his shoulder rather than his eyes.

“Why are you apologising?”

Silence envelopes the two of you and you actually think he had walked away and you had been left by yourself in the parking lot without an answer. However, when you lift your gaze, you're met with soft brown eyes studying you with awe.

He doesn't look away when he realise you caught him staring. Spencer is tired of avoiding you. Avoiding this.

“I was a coward.” Spencer let out a shaky breath. “I was scared and-and that made me a coward. I never wanted to cause a rift in our friendship-”

“It's too late for that, Reid.”

Spencer flinches as if he's been slapped. You hold back your wince. You don't mean to be cruel with your words but your lack of sleep and stress from the last case were making you feel sick of interacting with another human being. Even Spencer, who you would never get tired of. Maybe his childish behavior had contributed to that.

Don't call me that. You never call me that.

He takes one step closer and then one more towards you.

“I have feelings for you.” Spencer breathes out as if he's been holding it for a while — well, he had. “I didn't know how to— I didn't want to lose you and I was terrified to do something that—” his stuttering is enough for you to see how nervous he was. You have no idea where it all came from, but there wasn't an ounce of hesitation as he confessed and his eyes glint with a newfound determination. You suck in a deep breath as he says the next words. “I love you as more... as more than a best friend.”

“You're my best friend.”

“What if I love you a little more than that?”

“... so I avoided you because I didn't want to ruin us. I... I'd rather be your friend than lose you for good. Did I ruin that too?”

What if it was... us? Would it work out?

“For an IQ of 187 you sure can be dumb sometimes.” You utter in disbelief, all of the cold of the night giving place to the warmth of a familiar feeling bumping through your chest.

Spencer gives you a puzzled look, hurt flashing through his gaze. “What?”

“Spencer,” you let out in a whisper, seeking for his hand slowly. “do you remember when I asked you if two people in the team could work out in a committed relationship?”

A frown etches into his forehead.

“Yes,” he answers carefully.

You bite back a smile, fingers raising from his arms to his shoulders until you can reach the back of his neck. Spencer is focused on your eyes, completely hypnotized.

“You told me it could work out—

“... If it was worth it.”

“... if it was worth it.” Your lips quirk up as his hands lower to fit perfectly around your waist. Your noses barely touching. Personal space becoming a an unknown language between the two of you. “Well, I happen to think this is very much worth it and it wouldn't ruin anything.”

His eyes lower to your lips for a short moment. “It wouldn't?”

“No. Mostly because I haven't exactly been discreet about it and I have no idea how you didn't realise but... I love you too, Spencer.”

His eyes snap to yours, hands tightening instinctively around your waist which made you slightly weak in your knees. “You— what? How?”

Raising a brow in amusement, you smirk, “you're asking me how I love you?”

“I—no. I don't— I just didn't... expect that.” I can see that. “You feel the same? You have feelings for me?”

Your exhale, caressing his cheek fondly. “Yes, Spencer.”

Spencer. Not Reid.

Spencer.

His gaze once again falls to your parted lips. “Then I was an idiot.”

You chuckle, nodding in agreement. “Pretty much. Yeah.”

A large grin spreads across his mouth, so wide you'd think it might split his pretty face in two. God, you missed that. You missed him. Everything about him.

❝ you are in love. . .

“Can I kiss you?”

You scoff, pulling him closer by the tie, “Finally, I thought you'd never make a move.” Then your lips crash as if you are two people starved for weeks and the only thing keeping you alive is each other.

true love. ❞

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taglist: @lilyviolets ; @whore-for-spencer-reid; @yeonalie

#reader insert #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #the taylor swift anthology

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merakiui · 27 days

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thinking about the stitch event again and,,,,,, alien floyb thoughts are on my mind. orz

alien floyd who escapes his planet to avoid the responsibilities his father is trying to shove onto him. he wants to explore the cosmos, not remain shackled to a single planet. so he steals a ship for himself and takes off into the starry outer space, eventually crash-landing on earth.

alien floyd who camouflages himself to blend into this new environment with its bipedal creatures. walking on two legs is difficult, but he doesn’t give up. perhaps you stumble upon him and help him to your home so that you can check him over for any injuries. he looks so lost and confused, so dazed… you wonder if he’s okay. floyd watches you silently the entire time. you’re…strange. he’s immediately curious.

alien floyd who takes to living alongside you rather quickly. he doesn’t have anywhere else to go, and you were kind enough to let him stay. in return, he helps you where he can. though most of his help is misread. he hunted those pesky birds who sit on the clothesline and chirp every single morning and brought their carcasses to you, awfully proud of himself. now there’s no more noise in the morning! aren’t you happy? :D but you shake your head at him and tell him he can’t just senselessly kill living creatures.

alien floyd who tries to be good for your sake. he’s an alien, so he often forgets his own strength when compared to that of a human’s. (he’s sorry for breaking the tv remote or the window or the coffee maker or the microwave… ;;;;) what’s more is that you don’t know he’s an alien. you just think he’s a human like you. floyd’s not sure he wants to tell you the truth. you’re already such good friends. would you fear him if you knew who he was—that beneath the softness of his human veneer there are predatory features and a strength that could kill you in seconds? so he continues masquerading as a human. it’s safer this way.

alien floyd who finds himself falling for you. he keeps these feelings to himself, mostly. although it’s difficult to truly hide them when he’s so expressive. he can quell monstrous urges for the most part, but he’s certain that if you were to bring home a person and he mistook them for a potential mate…… floyd would kill them. ruthlessly.

alien jade who is somewhat envious, for he had been hoping to escape on his own one day. floyd beat him to it and now he’s stuck having to clean up the mess his twin’s made. >_< so when jade’s given clearance to track him down and he learns floyd’s been cozying up to a particularly cute human on earth……. well, if jade had any apprehensions about leaving for good before he doesn’t anymore. :)

aliens floyd and jade who love their human more than anything. if earth is taken over by their overlord of a father, it’s okay because they’ll keep you safe. <3

#meraki mumbles

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meraxesmoon · 7 months

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Thinking about Rhaenyra and her first baby...

warnings: yandere content, platonic relationships, vague descriptions of childbirth, cole! reader, mention of aemma and baelon's deaths, this was so soft, psychology of motherhood

┍━━━━━━━ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗━━━━━━━┑

Thinking about Rhaenyra's first child and only daughter being the product of her night of passion with Criston Cole. She was never particularly interested in having children, but... Rhaenyra is lonely in Kings Landing, especially after getting married to Laenor and losing Cole. She's lonely, and watching the other ladies at court with their babies makes her think that she might not be so lonely after having a child of her own.

Rhaenyra was not excited about the actual birthing of her child. Childbirth holds much trauma for her, as it was what she lost her mother and little brother to, but during the months of her pregnancy, she becomes excited to meet her first baby.

The pain is bad, and the feeling of something alive being pushed out of her body makes her want to hurl, but it's not as bad as Rhaenyra expected it to be, and eventually the pressure in her lower section is released. The cry she hears is so soft. Almost kitten-like, and she realizes that she's crying eventually, when the midwife hands her a little bundle wrapped in a blanket. Rhaenyra realizes, in that moment, that the fear and pain had been worth it because she wasn't alone anymore.

I feel like, as a first-time mother, Rhaenyra is nervous when handling her newborn daughter. The first time she held her daughter, her hands were shaking violently because she's never seen something so small.

And there's a certain kind of pride that comes along with motherhood, Rhaenyra learns. Her father meets her daughter for the first time, and she smiles so brightly that she almost forgets that her child is illegitimate. She almost forgets that her child could be sentenced to death for just being born. She almost forgets that Ser Criston Cole is still in Kings Landing, by Alicent's side and not hers.

It's not delusion, but Rhaenyra tells herself that her baby girl is Laenor's child as well, and he plays the role of father well.

Rhaenyra realizes that this tiny bundle of Valyrian joy in her arms holds too much power, even at her young age, because Rhaenyra would burn down the world just to keep her daughter safe and away from those that would harm her.

Rhaenyra Targaryen realizes that she enjoys motherhood.

mom rhae reigns supreme

also I think the fact that rhaenyra loved baelon is overlooked a lot. literally no one talks about it :(

#cw: yandere content #cw: yandere blog #cw: yandere #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere team black #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere content #yandere #kay writes #rhxegal

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luvlyhyunjin · 21 days

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Carousel┃H.HJ SMAU

Forty-Six - Out Of Time.

warnings; angst get your tissues

wc.5k

playlist; i love you - billie eilish

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You knew that Hyunjin was more on the possessive side, a little more jealous than what were you used to. You were used to being on the more intimidating side in most of your fleeting relationships. Not giving enough space for your partner to express their discomfort about your overwhelming charm, capturing the attention of passersby. A persona you thought you enjoyed wearing is stripped of you whenever you’re around him. A delicate softness embraces you instead the same one that embraces him as well. You bring out a certain clement in him that he wasn’t aware of, the same one that has him dotting on you, attending to you and your every little detail. Like bringing you a glass of water and placing it on your bedside table just in case you wake up thirsty in the middle of the night.

It brings you back to the time when you were teenagers. The air reeks of innocent youth, smells like the beach and as warm as the summer's sun. it's as refreshing as it used to be. It lingers between you two, in the way his feet nudge your leg under the table playfully. It’s in the way he gazes at you lovingly from across the table, watches you munch slowly on the sandwich he had begged to pay for. It’s in the way he had dragged you out of your apartment promising not to touch you just in case someone was watching, noticing the dreading anxiety that had latched itself onto you like a parasite.

It has been pulling at you for days now but got particularly worse today, you felt like it was the silence of your phone, the lack of notifications from Yeosang is unsettling. Despite Wooyoung telling you that he got it, that his lawyer is working on making a contract to ensure Yeosang’s silence.

It’s gonna be over soon. He had assured you with a glowing smile, confident in the process you were heading towards. it should have had hope blooming in your heart, excitement running through your veins in waiting for what's about to come. But it didn't feel like that at all. Despite the positive that had swam in the air everything feels if it’s a nightmare you’re unable to wake up from, like a monster that chases you down an endless narrow hallway, it had transformed itself into a painful anxiety attack in the early morning. With a pacing heart and heavy breaths, silent tears had streamed down your face causing concern to etch on Hyunjin’s face as he tried to comfort you, whispering to you that everything is okay. He’s got you.

Yet you constantly felt like you were standing on the edge, swaying back and forth in fear of falling.

It's the same concern that colors his face now when you take a sip from your supposedly fresh juice “what’s wrong? You don’t like it?” he questions once you set the plastic cup back on the table with a grimace adoring your face.

“Tastes weird.” You mumble with disgust, shaking your head as if it would wash the aftertaste out of your mouth. He reaches for your drink without question, takes a sip for his own with knitted eyebrows “baby there’s pineapple in this, you don’t like pineapples, no?” you blink at him, had not expected him to remember such a minuscule detail about you. It’s something that you, yourself had managed to forget about sometimes due to the rare occurrence of having it. A warm feeling scurries into your chest, cradling the agony that is your anxiety just enough to block out the overwhelming noises.

“Here,” he takes his own untouched juice and places it in front of you “drink mine instead.” Perhaps you were feeling increasingly more sensitive as the hours passed by or perhaps it was his gentleness that seemed to make your insides buzz with love. So much love it had tears brimming in your eyes incredulously fast.

“Thank you Hyunjin,” you cried, sniffling into the sleeve of his sweater that you stole, his scent overtakes you even when he looks at you confused and lips quirking upwards in a hesitant smile. He couldn’t believe you were crying over a cup of juice. God you were such an idiot sometimes.

But you were his idiot.

Later in the evening after lying on your couch for hours, you’re feeling a little better, a little more lightweight which is why when Hyunjin had convinced you to make French toast for dinner after putting Haneul to bed, you agreed willingly, despite the faux annoyance you wore when he glued himself to you the whole time you were moving around the kitchen you were happy, more than happy when he had hugged you from behind, spreading his affection through littering kisses on the back of your neck.

“Aren’t you supposed to help me?” you asked as you were cutting strawberries to add to your dessert. The soft pitter-patter of the rain on your windows alongside the beating of his heart against your back has you swaying in comfort “I’m giving you emotional support.” He mummers against your neck, bringing you closer to him when you try to lean away from his tickling breath.

You feel yourself glowing, as if you’re in dreamland and you’re floating above the clouds surrounded by nothing but fairy dust, forms of affection you didn’t even know could coexist with you but they do. They exist within you and overflow from you when you’re sharing bites of French toast with Hyunjin in your living room, a carefree smile as he adds more and more pieces of sweet and syrupy bread onto your plate. Your heart is enveloped in ardor at his kindness. It has your heart aching in a different way, not used to the care he naturally douses you with.

“How are you so pretty even when you’re eating?” his thoughts display themselves into his words, raw and unfiltered. You push at his chest with giggle and blushing cheeks and his eyes follow you, like they always have. He lingers at the sight of you, taken away by the domestic setting you found yourselves in. you set his soul ablaze, a warmth in his chest that only your love could provide for him.

“I think i must have saved a goddess in my past life to be able to witness you in every angle like this every day.” he admits fondly, swaying into whatever point of view that will show you just how much his partiality for you overflows. His fingers wipe at the syrup on corner of your mouth, and you chase his thumb with a kiss. He smiles at you, and you find love in the curves of it, in the dip of his dimples and you pray to the universe to give your happiness just a bit more time to flourish. Just a little while longer will surely be enough.

The ringing of his phone cuts through your unsaid words and through the quietness of your mind that just had managed to settle. Buzzing on the counter it steals Hyunjin’s attention from you and his warmth slowly leaves you alongside his hands as he goes to pick it up. As soon as he answers you know something is wrong, it’s in the way he purses his lips, and the way his brows knit together in a scowl. Suddenly the anxiety you have been running away from all day is here again.

The atmosphere around you turned colder, your living room suddenly enveloped with a dropping temperature despite the warmth you felt mere minutes ago. It was as if it was warning you for what’s about to come, telling you to get accustomed to this feeling as it settles in your vitality.

“Is everything okay?” you ask tentatively, a growing anxiety flumped in the bit of your stomach when Hyunjin’s frowns deepens. Hanging up the phone as he faces you with a bewildered expression.

“Yeji is outside.”

“What? Why?” You watch as Hyunjin moves franticly to dress, putting one of his abandoned jackets on the couch. You had told him to pick them up this morning and he promised to do it with a hushed kiss. A couple of hundred questions linger in your mind, swirling around only to flourish your anxiety into a bigger shadow that looms over your couch and above your curled up figure.

The scent of Hyunjin is in the sweater you’re drowning in yet you're still so cold.

How did she even get your address? What was so important she had to come here right this moment?

“I’m not sure but I’ll check.” He turns to head for the door, a panic mixed with confusion is evident in the way he brushes his hand through his hair, you don’t know why you feel a familiar panic rises in your body cosplaying itself into an overwhelming neediness. It has you on your feet in seconds, knuckles white as they tightly gripped onto his shirt. Halting his movements.

“Are you okay, angel?” He looks back with a concerned expression and somehow it only deepens your anxiety, has its thorns grow and grow until they’re curling around your vocal cords not allowing you to speak. You don’t know where to go and what to do with this sudden uneasiness.

Don’t go. Two words hang at the tip of your tongue not completely swallowed down but not making their way out. They sit heavily.

His warm palms cradle your face in unyielding gentleness, has a shiver running down your spine when his lips graze your forehead in a sweet a brush of his lips “I’ll be right back, okay baby?” his attempts to bring you a sense of comfort are inefficacious nonetheless you try to find solace in them. Nodding with a hesitant smile.

He kisses your cheek and heads for the door again, and you linger close by the doorframe. You’re both surprised to see Yeji already standing there when he opens the door. Her eyes are immediately on you, as if she has been looking for you all along. it’s clear that she has been crying, eyes red and nose a matching shade. The droplets of rain wetting her clothes is a giveaway to how she probably came here in a rush, perhaps in rushed heartbreak.

“Jesus fuck what happened to you Yeji?” Hyunjin asks in clear worry as his eyes flit through her disheveled figure.

“We need to talk.” She replies in a monotone, keeping her eyes on you and the coldness in her gaze finally puts a name to your growing fear. Your fingers curls around Hyunjin’s wrist, using his warmth as a curtain over the overwhelming sense of fright that your stomach was unable to digest “c-can we please talk first?” you had mumbled with an obvious shakiness to your voice, frail and on the edge of broken when he looked down at you with loving disquiet.

How did she know? What had happened in these few hours that you were unaware of? Had Yeosang ratted you out? But why?

You should have known that something disastrous lurked on the horizon. You should have known that the shadows of dread that loitered around you all day were warning signs, red sirens calling for your attention. Was it for you to run or for you to prepare for an inevitably coming battle?

“Are you scared Y/N?” Yeji mocks with a dry chuckle not giving room for Hyunjin’s input. His confusion only seems to grow. A weird, unnerving emotion settled into his stomach already sensing the unknown prodding its claws at his heart, not yet sinking them in.

Your heart swells in your chest, an uncomfortable weight pressing against your ribs. You shake your head.

“Please let me talk to him first.” You whispered, you tried to breathe in deeply, attempting to calm your heaving chest down as with each passing second you felt your lungs constricting further. Your feet start sinking into the ground beneath you and you wish you could be swallowed when Hyunjin keeps staring between the two of you.

“Are you scared he’s gonna find out the truth?” You start shaking your head frantically, your fingers digging into Hyunjin’s wrist, leaving behind red marks of your own culpability.

How do you dare to punish him for your own mistakes?

“Please Yeji just let me talk to him first, let me explain this to him.” You begged, the guilt you thought you got used to started to eat you up, tainting your brain and choking you on your own unshed tears. You hold them back, ashamed to let them fall as if you were a victim, as if you weren’t spreading your agony in his wrist, as if your mistakes didn’t stare back at you in Yeji’s eyes.

“Baby what’s going on?” Hyunjin asks in growing panic that he tries to control, seeming to have grasped the seriousness of the situation, he attempts to pull you into him to bring you warmth like he usually does but you can’t move. As if your body suddenly weighed piles of iron.

“What are you exactly going to explain to him?” Her voice is void of emotions; eyes empty. It’s a state of agony you’re so familiar with. Having been dressed in it so many times, it’s the type of anguish that its only injuries ever stem from within. This time, however, you’re the perpetrator leaving behind several unimpeachable sufferers.

“Please Yeji it’s not what you think. I can explain everything just let me talk to him.” The pain in your heart intensifies with every pitiful plea that escapes your mouth, the longer that Hyunjin stares at you in worry and confusion the more you ache. As though pain has latched itself into every fiber of your soul.

“Are you gonna explain how you and Yeosang made my life a game for your enjoyment?” It’s overwhelming, unrelenting now that the comforting veil of your lie has lifted. your head lowered in shame of the sight of your tears descending your cheeks as if you’re worthy of even crying.

“What? What the fuck are you saying Yeji?” Hyunjin had moved in front of you, his body portraying a shield protecting you from Yeji’s recrimination. a cloud of doom hovered above your head, the large clock that had been following you along all this time had finally ticked to zero. Announcing the beginning of the end. Your hand had flattered, loosening its grip on Hyunjin’s wrist leaving behind a glaringly red ring of your guilt.

“Are you gonna explain how you and Yeosang made a bet on breaking my heart?” Your heart began to thunder against your ribs, each thump begging you to run but there was no space for you to return to “or are you gonna explain how everything is a lie? How both of you are incapable of feeling anything real?” her venom laced words echoed throughout your eardrums, each word drifting off from one ear to the other as your vision was stuck on the ground unable, undaring to look up.

Yeji’s numbness starts to fade the more she speaks, her once sparkling eyes are now sad with welling tears as she pushes through Hyunjin and to you, her hands painfully grip your shoulder as if she could break you – you wish she would “Are you gonna explain how you’re a fucking horrible person for doing what you did to me? What did I ever do to you? I don’t even fucking know you.” Her voice quivers, rising in volume and amplifying in pain. Her body shakes along with her lips. chest heaving, eyes rimmed red are only another evidence of your wrongdoings.

You could only shake your head back as your tears double over, your heart constricting in your chest.

Hyunjin is there again, in your pain and in your presence when he pulls Yeji away from you “what the fuck are you doing? What are you talking about?” he exclaims desperate to be let in whatever war that is threatening to take you both down, his arms around her shoulders and she breaks down with full blown out tears streaming down her face “what did I ever do to you?” A rush of nausea overwhelms your being, a yearning to expel every emotion that exists in you “what is she talking about Y/N?” Hyunjin finally asks, looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, and a sense of betrayal is starting to seep its way into his eyes, into the shakiness of his own voice.

Outside, it starts to thunder, and you feel like as if it hits you directly, coursing its way through your body and climbs its way to your throat, rendering you mute. how could you even say anything back when your hands are covered with red and it’s her blood? Your tongue is paralyzed and you’re choking on all the greying clouds surrounding you. They’re inflating in your throat.

“Hyunjin i-“

“Don’t you dare lie to him,” Yeji lifts her head, glaring at you through her tears of misery “tell him about all the secrets you were trying so hard to bury,” she spits, furiously pointing at you “tell him about how you and Yeosang made a bet to see if he could break my heart, tell him how you said you’ll be his if he did. Tell him Y/N. tell him that you were behind everything all along.”

“Is what she’s saying true?” The pain on Hyunjin’s face is something you had prepared yourself for all this time, you have thought about every possible reaction he could make. You even went as far as to think his rage would be unmatchable, so strong and shadowlike he’d have to kill you, to get rid of you completely. However, now that you have forcibly been dragged from dreamland into reality you deem yourself unready. His expression is so painfully poignant that you ‘re unable to look away. It burns you and pulsates achingly within your being.

“Tell him about how you slept with Seungmin behind his back, and you never told him! Go ahead.” Yeji ends her speech with disgust dousing her drying eyes and her sharp like voice and it’s all it takes for you to breakdown on the other end, your legs give up on you as if your affliction and iniquity are too heavy for you to carry and you collapse on the ground with sobs wrecking through your system. You wish to become one with the floor, to melt into a puddle and never have to face this. You never have to go through this yet why is Hyunjin is choosing to melt along with you? Why is he on the ground and why is cupping your face tenderly as if you weren’t the worst thing to ever exist in the same space as him?

"Y/N." he’s urging you to confront his turbulent gaze, his clammy palms attempt to wipe away at your tears as if this misery would dissipate once they stop “i-it’s not true right? T-there’s no way it’s true right?” As if a chain had been tightened around your neck, your throat closed up further the only thing that could be heard in the dark hallway of your apartment are the echoes of your sobs and his betrayed breaths.

“I’m so sorry Hyunjin.” You choke out and he shakes his head, desperate for your denial as his hands glide down to your shoulders, shaking them with his own need “no no no don’t apologize, you shouldn’t be apologizing you should be telling me it’s not the truth that Yeji must have understood wrong mhm? Come on say it.” your heart only sunk further in your body at sight of the growing tears in his eyes, conveying the scars that you had once again peeled open in his heart, the flowers you two had been growing so carefully the past few months are ripped harshly from the roots “you wouldn’t do this to me, right Y/N?” They’re withering right in front of your eyes, and you could only watch as they slowly die and dry down, right next to your bent knees.

"You would never do this to me, this isn't you, isn't anything you're capable of right? We talked about how this time was going to be different remember? you told me there's no one else for you, you told me you loved me. Y-you wouldn't do this to me right?" he heaves, arms falling limp by his side incredulously at your growing silence, at your increasing tears.

“I’m s-sorry Hyunjin I-I was going to tell you i-“Hyunjin abruptly stands up, the ache he left on your shoulders is incomparable to the one in your heart “you wouldn’t lie to me, right?” he asks for one last time, unblinking and fists clenched, turning white with his power. He seeks something within your eyes and like a fool you hoped he’d find it; you hoped that maybe the love you felt would be enough of an answer to wash away all this torment clinging to his body.

“I’m sorry,” your words hang in the air around you, replying your pathetic voice right back to your ears and you want nothing but this apartment to collapse upon itself. The grief of you three is too big for any space.

Your thoughts are shattered alongside your heart when Hyunjin turns around and leaves, hurrying out the door with a trail of crimson behind him, painting the ground with his despair and the walls blue with heartbreak, as you stumble on your feet to follow, you want nothing but to drown. To dissipate into air or perhaps be reborn into someone else, someone who won't be at the end of every growing misery of his. Instead you wish to be someone that he could belong to, a place he could come back to. Like the winds to the sea.

you wish, you wish, you wish.

“Hyunjin please let me explain,” you hopelessly plea, following with your shorter frame behind his relentlessly running figure “I wanted to tell you. I swear I did but Yeosang was threatening me and-“

“I fucking loved you!” he yells, abruptly stops in his tracks, and faces you as frustration seeps into his words alongside his being “I trusted you! I asked you time and time again if you were hiding something from me!”

“I know I wanted to tell you I just needed a bit of time I was going to do it-“

“Why didn’t you do it then? Why did you lie to me for months? For fuck’s sake I asked you directly! I asked you if you had something to do with them and you said no!”

“I was scared!” you shout back as the clouds above you gathers and it starts to pour once again, the sky is crying with you and you felt every overbearing emotion sear its way into your existence the sadness, the frustration, the anxiety and the guilt- all blending into one sorrowful song, pulling at your heartstrings and echoing through the air and the dying garden between you two “I was terrified of losing you once again when I finally got you back. and w-when I wanted to tell you Yeosang started threatening me and I didn’t know what to do-“ all your futile attempts stare back at you in mockery, like they’re meaningless and your brain cannot grasp at the reality that is forcing itself on you.

You’re too weak, too fragile and you’re terrified of the space your being takes.

“And sleeping with Seungmin? My best friend?” He questions, voice cracking with his every word and an ineffable presence, as big as your guilt swims around the gates of your heart and the sight of the fresh pain in his eyes breaks it down, pushing through your veins with excruciating force “I-didn’t want to, he forced me.” You whisper with defeat attaching itself to your shoulders, pulling and pulling you into a melting pool of a shade of blue. The only color that had ever looked good on you. The word tastes like rusty metal on your tongue, bringing back flashes of events you had hoped to forget, you thought if you forced yourself not to remember they wouldn't exist. The pain you had felt wasn't real, it was all a figment of your imagination.

But now it's real, in the recollections in your mind, the disgusting feeling you tried so hard to wash away is in the rain instead, clinging itself onto your skin and vowing to taint you forever.

Your fingers loosen their grip around the photographs of you – what could have been you. The edges start burning, taking away all the memories you had promised to carefully keep of these last few months. All the little moments you shared with Hyunjin start playing themselves in your head alongside the painful ones. Clashing together and leaving you stumbling on this edge you're holding on to for some reason you can't figure out. The laughter, the hushed whispers of I love yous and the promises he kissed into your skin are all washed away by the rain, taken away by the doom you so willingly have set on yourself, on your cruel fate.

“It’s always someone else, isn’t it?” he speaks as if your words physically pained him, as if looking at you is a sin and the ache pulling at his heart is his punishment “it’s always someone else, Seungmin, Yeosang, your dad but it’s never your fault is it?” his words weigh you down, you feel like a weak kid again. A shell of a person that tries to retake their claim on everything that has been taken from them. Fighting with force only to end up bruised up, pain that only turns to rage determined to take everything down with you. An inescapable destruction that your hands are responsible for.

Hyunjin scoffs at your silence, at the broken look that washes over your features.

Nothing was lost; it was all destroyed.

“Did you at least have fun? Was it funny when I told you I loved you? Is that why you cried not because you were happy but because you felt victorious?” in the depths of the pain lacing Hyunjin’s voice, the cracks slowly forming on his beaten-up heart a new scar bloomed, another one that was your doing. With your knife-like fingers and venom-infused lips you have managed to inject heartbreak into him once again. Nestling right in the middle of his being and laughing in absolute ecstasy.

I told you this was going to happen. It whispers to him.

“I loved you- I still do, nothing I ever felt for you was fake. I wouldn’t dare to let myself be anything but in love with you Hyunjin ” the desperate rhythm of your heart calls for him only this time- there’s no response.

You feel aversion at your own humanity, your own extant.

A broken agonizingly laden chuckle escapes him “was anything even real? Are you even real? I don’t even know who you are anymore I don’t know this person who lies and hides and runs.” He runs his hand through his hair, growing more frantic in strives to understand – to know.

“Did I even know you to begin with?” your eyes burn with the sting of your tears, your body shivers and you feel like you’re only ever going to be a disfigured scar, something that he will try his hardest to avoid, to not look for, to not touch.

“E-everything I ever felt for you was real I swear. I was going to tell you the truth. I wanted us to be happy Hyunjin. I wanted us to be together without the weight of all my mistakes, the weight of our past.” It’s hopeless, you realize it when Hyunjin’s eyes had grown distant, if his soul had announced its departure leaving him nothing but a body you’re staring at "If you could please let me explain. I will tell you everything please."

"Don't." he holds his hand up to stop you when you take a step closer to him, he backs away, growing more distance between you two.

“Don’t lie to me I can’t bear it anymore. I-i can't do this anymore.” He breaks and even with the droplets of rain pouring over you two, you can still see it clearly, the tears you had managed to forcibly pull out of him once again. No one could be as strong as you, as ruthless as you to dwindle the great Hwang Hyunjin into nothing but a passing wind that washes over you. Cold and gentle and more than anything fleeting. He’s gone as fast as he comes.

All the picture you had so carefully captured burn, turning into ashes that fills your throat and clogs it, leaving you unable to fight back anymore, you’re unable to wave around your white flag, a yearning for peace is no longer an option instead you have been trounced. Darkness devours your essence but this time there’s no comfort in said darkness, the familiarity is gone and you find yourself aching to feel the warmth of the sun on your skin just one more time. Just one more touch, one more kiss, one more whisper.

One more

One more covet for a wish, a spark and maybe something as foolish and impossible as a loop that you could be stuck in, you will live through all these one mores till your death comes knocking, maybe then you wouldn’t be selfish to cling onto him.

How could the moon possibly ever glow if not kissed by the sun?

"We're done Y/N."

A foreboding dread has your spine folding in half and spreads itself through your rips, your hourglass had finally shattered, shards of glass had plunged themselves into your legs holding you into place as Hyunjin turned his back to you, the void that he filled starts to open up immediately. Taking you whole in one piece.

You were out of time and alone.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

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