#as I think I would it would have meant I ended the game on a sour note

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready��” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

[flemingsfreckles]

Something New (18+)

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Synopsis: you and Jessie get teased for your assumed “vanilla” sex life, you decide to take Jessie on a trip to find some new things to try in the bedroom.

Warnings: suggestion to sex, sex toys, visiting adult store, (handcuffs, blindfolds, strap-on, buttplug, vibrators), none of the toys actually being used.

WC: 2.4k

A/N: if yall want a part 2 in which the toys are actually used, I can do that :)

“Oh come on there’s got to be something you want to try that we haven’t?” You pull up the sheet from where it had been kicked off the bed, covering your naked body before laying down next to your equally naked girlfriend.

“I don’t know.” Jessie just remained lying on her back, not making eye contact with you. Her chest was still rising and falling quickly, catching her breath.

“Oh come on, don’t be shy with me, after what we just did there’s no reason to be shy.” You two had just finished what was supposed to be quick morning sex but turned into a competitive match. Giving each other orgasm after orgasm until about 11am when you both finally tapped out.

“Are you asking because of what happened at Sam’s house?” Jessie asks.

The two of you had been at a party the night before at Sam’s with the rest of the team, playing various card and board games which led quickly to playing drinking games that somehow always ended up in discussions of everyone’s sex life.

When you started dating, you and Jessie had agreed to not disclose too much about what you two do behind closed doors to your nosey teammates. It was originally an idea out of shyness on Jessie’s part, you had never minded indulging your teammates in your experience but out of respect for Jessie and your relationship you kept your mouth shut for the most part. You started to like the secrecy of what went on in your beds, no one knew the details, just you and her. So when you were asked the craziest thing you’ve done in bed, you sipped away at your drink instead of answering. Unsatisfied with your choice to not answer, Sam began to accuse you and Jessie of having an incredibly boring and “vanilla” sex life. You tried to defend yourself and Jessie, Jessie being too shy to be any help, the teasing from your teammates had only continued.

“No.” You’re quick to answer, not even really thinking. “Okay maybe, I don’t know, I don’t think our sex is boring though, I love having sex with you. It just made me think and just thought I’d ask if there was anything you wanted to try.”

You truly didn’t find your sex life with Jessie boring at all, she was excellent in bed, able to meet and exceed your needs and the two of you being athletes meant you had the stamina to last as long as you wanted. You collectively owned a strap-on and a vibrator but nothing else. It worked for the two of you, it was great sex. But even great sex sometimes could use something new, something for a little change of pace. You also knew Jessie well enough to know even if there was something she was interested in, she most likely would keep it to herself until you pried it out of her.

“I don’t know.” You can tell she’s withholding information, still too shy to put her ideas into words. But you decide not to push it, it was a little bit of a personal question to throw on her and expect an immediate answer.

“Alright babe, if you come up with anything, you can tell me. Want to get a shower?” She nods, finally making eye contact with you as you both get up from the bed and move to the bathroom. You let the question go unanswered for now, secretly hoping Jessie would come up with something to tell you in the next couple of days.

After a week passes since you had asked Jessie if she wanted to try anything out in bed and not getting any form of a hint or answer, you decide maybe a little field trip would help. Maybe Jessie just didn’t know what she wanted to try, maybe this would give her some suggestions.

“Where are we going?” Jessie asked for the fifth time since you told her to get dressed and ready to leave the house. She claimed she needed to know where you were going so she could dress appropriately.

“I’ve told you, it’s a surprise.” You turn back to look at your girlfriend as you grab your keys.

“You know I hate surprises.” She mumbles as she follows you down the hallway from your apartment out the door. Jessie wasn’t a big fan of surprises, she liked having all the information and surprises made her feel out of control.

“Jessie it’ll be fine, I promise. If you hate it for some reason we can leave. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, I trust you.” She gets into the passenger seat of your car and you start driving. You debated having her close her eyes but it didn’t feel necessary, you weren’t going too far. You drove for another 25 minutes before you pulled into the parking lot of a small shop.

“You brought me to an adult store?!” Her voice is a mix of confusion and also a little bit scared.

“Yes, I did but we don’t have to go in if you don’t want to. I just thought, maybe we could look around?” You don’t want her to feel forced, but you thought this would be a good way to maybe suggest new ideas for the two of you.

“What if someone sees us?” You’re convinced her voice is raised a few octaves.

“Jessie, we’re adults. We’re also publicly dating, people know we have sex.”

“Still.” She was bouncing her leg, head swiveling to look around the car to the empty parking lot, and she was nervously playing with her fingers. You start to think maybe you should’ve asked if she’d want to do this before you made it a surprise. Or maybe just going online shopping would’ve been a better choice for someone like Jessie.

“Babe,” you place a hand on her knee, trying to settle it, “we don’t have to go in. If you don’t want to, we won’t. We also can go in and then immediately leave, whatever you want.”

She doesn’t say much, just looking at the door of the shop. You can tell she’s having an argument within herself on what she wants to do. You let her ponder, she slowly stops fiddling with her fingers, wiping her hands, that were likely sweating slightly on her legs.

“Let’s go in.”

“Are you sure?” Now worried she feels forced by you and like she has to go into the store.

“Yeah.” Before she’s able to get out of the car you grab her hand.

“If you want to leave, just tell me, we’ll go.” She nods and you both get out of the car and walk into the store.

You’d been in a store like this once before, buying a joke gift for a bachelorette party, but never when looking for something you actually wanted. The toys you owned had been purchased online.

You didn’t know where to start so you decided to just take a lap around the whole store, then figuring out where you wanted to look. Jessie followed you around like a lost puppy, her eyes barely leaving the floor, glancing up only to look at you.

You move over to the wall of dildos, you liked the one you had for your strap currently, but a new one wouldn’t hurt. It’s a little overwhelming, every color and size imaginable on the wall, ones that vibrate, ones that spin, ones that have heating elements. That sounded like a fire hazard to you. Your eyes scan over all the options, a few catching your eye, you prefer the fun colors, you look at sizes comparable to the one you already owned. It worked for both of you, no reason to make too much of a change with a new one.

You turn to see Jessie, surprised to see she’s actually looking up at the wall instead of the floor. You watch as her eyes scan, before setting on a blue dildo that looks to be slightly larger than the one you already owned. Her eyes wander away and then come back to the blue one. You give her a second to make a decision or movement to grab the toy, she doesn’t.

“You like that one?” You point at it on the wall. Jessie doesn’t say anything, just turning to look at you and then back to the box and then to the floor.

“Jessie, if you want it we can get it.” You notice the slightest nod of her head, but she doesn’t make a move to grab it. You sigh, letting out a small laugh at your girlfriend’s shy behavior, given she was the opposite in the bedroom once you got her going. You take the box off the wall and throw it into the basket you had picked up.

Jessie walks away and out of the section you were in, not saying anything to you. Now it was you who was the one following her around the store. She moves over to a wall of assorted items. Small vibrators, bottles of lube, gags, paddles, all sorts of things. You watch her carefully as her eyes scan again. This time they don’t stop for too long on anything. You assume nothing has peaked her interest. She takes a few steps around the corner to another wall of items. You grab a bottle of lube off the shelf, identical to the one you already owned, you weren’t running out quite yet but there wasn’t really such a thing as too much lube.

You scan the wall yourself before following Jessie around the corner. You see her hand reach out slightly toward something before she withdraws when she notices you coming around the corner. Her hand drops but she’s still looking at it when you come over. It’s a blindfold and handcuff set.

“Really?” You look at her, shock probably across your face as your hand grabs the box. She nods again, still not using her voice. You throw it in the basket. The thought of your hands restrained to the headboard while Jessie had her way with you, or hers being restrained while you got to tease her had you clenching your thighs together, ready to leave the store and try it out.

You are now just following Jessie around the store, less looking for yourself and just watching her eyes carefully as she has yet to actually say any words about what she wants to you. As you walk by a section of harnesses you see ones with a pocket where you could put a vibrator. You try to think if the one you have at home has a pocket but you can’t remember.

“Babe,” you whisper yell across the store to where Jessie was wandering around. She quickly comes over to you. “Does our harness have this pocket? I can’t remember.”

She nods at you and gives a quiet “Yes.”

“Oh, should we get something for it? We don’t have anything small enough to go in there.” You grab for one of the smaller bullet vibrators and hold it up to Jessie, cocking your head to ask her if she wanted it. She just gives you a nod again.

Jessie returns back to where she was before, you follow her over. She’s looking at another wall of assorted items. Only instead of walking past this one her eyes are glancing and then looking away only to draw back to some boxes. When you realize what she's looking at, your jaw nearly falls open, but not wanting to make her question her interest you keep a straight face.

“That?” You point at the silver butt plug Jessie was looking at.

“Only if you’d want it?” You realize she means she wants to use it on you, if you’d let her. You’d never tried it, but figured no harm in trying things out.

“Sure, I’m open to trying whatever with you.” You grab the box, throwing it into your surprisingly full basket. You hadn’t realized how many things you had picked up on your lap around the store.

You’ve nearly made it through the whole store, taking a last stop to look at some of the lingerie. You flip through the options while Jessie is back to standing behind you as if she was hiding. You find a red lacy matching set and throw it into the basket, you look back to see Jessie’s eyes wide as she sees what you had picked out. You flash her a smirk, knowing she’s picturing you wearing the outfit.

“You all done?” You ask your girlfriend. She gives you a nod and reaches into her pocket grabbing out her wallet and handing you her card.

“I’ll get it.” You wave off her card but she sticks the card into your hand again. You roll your eyes, taking her card and turning to go check out, leaving Jessie wandering behind you, not wanting to interact with the employees.

You check out quickly and look back to get Jessie’s attention as you’re ready to leave. She follows you quickly out the door and rushes to the car. You place the bag in the trunk and get in the drivers seat.

“See I knew there was stuff you wanted to try but were too shy to say it.” You poke at her cheek. “You could’ve told me.” You tease her gently you knew she was shy, she always had been since you met her, she was shy with everyone.

She doesn’t say anything but you notice the blush on her cheeks reddening. You decide to leave her be, not wanting to tease her too much. At least not yet, maybe later in the bedroom.

You throw the car in drive and leave the shop, heading home. When you get home you throw the contents of the bag on the bed. “So where do you want to start?” You ask Jessie turning to see her looking at everything you had bought.

“Handcuffs maybe the new dildo too?” She says with a questioning look, one eyebrow raised at you, no longer shy like she was at the store.

You nod quickly at her.

“Get on the bed.” Her tone is demanding, she reaches to pick up the handcuffs and blindfold as she makes her way to the side of the bed. You lay down and Jessie straddles your waist, her weight holding you to the bed. She drops the handcuffs before grabbing your hands with hers interlocking your fingers and pinning your hands above your head with her strength.

She leans down as if she’s going to kiss you, before moving to the side to place her lips against your ear. “This is going to be fun.”

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #jessie fleming imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso smut #jessie fleming blurb #jessie fleming smut

[katnissmellarkkk]

an unpopular take : i don’t think peeta’s prosthetic leg detaches. my interpretation is it was surgically put on and so therefore the only way it can be removed is through surgery.

this comes from the fact that he slept next to katniss all those nights and she never mentions him desiring to remove his leg or aching became he didn’t remove it. some argue this point because he was probably too bashful or self-conscious to take it off in front of her at that stage of their relationship. which is why i’m saying katniss doesn’t give the reader the impression he’s uncomfortable because he didn’t remove it. if he was meant to take it off and let the remains of his real leg rest, katniss probably would have casually dropped a hint somewhere about that.

the second reason which kind of piggybacks onto the first. the quarter quell. katniss never mentions peeta desiring to remove his prosthetic and rest. she never implies his leg is in pain from overuse of the prosthetic while in the arena. she doesn’t suggest he is even uncomfortable wearing his prosthetic 24/7 for days on end in the arena. again, i’ve heard people say in the past “he couldn’t have taken it off in the arena because…” i’m not saying him not removing it while in the games is the clue that his leg is not detachable. i’m saying the fact that we got no implications that it was even a desire on his part to remove the prosthetic is the clue. he didn’t run slower or seemed to have any issues with his prosthetic that was imply overuse or anything like that.

and my last reason is the most convincing to me. peeta was rescued in mockingjay with his prosthetic still on. if snow’s men wanted to torture him, removing his prosthetic would be a basic starting step. they would have wanted to keep him weak so they could abuse him and hijack him. if his leg came off, it would have been a pretty easy decision to take it away so he’d been helpless. and yes, i suppose they could have given it back right before the rescue because we know snow was letting them take peeta, in hopes he’d kill katniss for him. but again, if peeta was hospitalized and all that in thirteen for a while, to heal physically as well as mentally, at some point shouldn’t the doctors there have taken his prosthetic off? let the stump take a break? and if this was happening all along, if throughout the series peeta was detaching his prosthetic regularly, how is it that katniss somehow missed every single time it happened.

also peeta eventually joins the star squad and katniss once again doesn’t make any sort of note towards peeta about how he must want to remove the prosthetic, rest his leg, how his leg must hurt from the overuse. not even during the “i’m so tired, katniss” moment.

so anyways. that’s my interpretation.

#thg #hunger games #peeta mellark #Katniss everdeen

[ghouljams]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGe9tGXnq/

Imagine in another universe Price and Witch were enemies (turned lovers) but Witch would dress like this. What if she was a part of a futuristic coven tasked with eradicating the Fae race. She was power and cruel and liked harnessing the magic of fae for her own use (basically their roles reversed since Price liked eating Witches for funsies before he met Lio)

I actually... I actually have a partially written Witch and Price as sexy enemies fic written. It's from way back when I wrote Love escaping Ghost, the little bad end fic. Well this was from Love going to Witch, not Price to be let out of Ghost's hold, thus making Witch a target for the 141 as they try to get Ghost's pet back...

Anyway I love Witch as cruel and unyielding, relishing in her power rather than measuring it out, wearing iron like a brand of her station. Desirable because of her power but also deeply dangerous for any fae unlucky enough to cross her path. Here she is, well, here they are:

He comes after you like the devil himself. It's lucky you're familiar with his work. You know as soon as your foot touches the street that there's magic working here, it itches against your skin and tickles in your nose. You stand still against the shift of it, weighing your options. Walking through the spell is like throwing yourself into a spiderweb, but turning tail is cowardice. You are not a coward. You're a witch.

You tug a piece of chalk from your pocket and crouch, scribing a few sigils on the cobblestone street before standing straight again to wait. When nothing happens you turn tail, and walk straight into a firm hand around your throat. 

"Rather obvious don't you think?" His voice is deep and slick with smoke. Your eyes dart up to look at the raised brow and beard.

"Your trap? Entirely too. I'd almost call it amateurish." You respond peaceably. The fingers on your throat tighten a fraction of a threat. A low growl rumbles through him, through you. Maybe more than a fraction of a threat then.

"You're a witch."

"Clearly," you agree. He must have meant you, yourself, are rather obvious. You've heard that before, recently too.

"We have business," he tells you, you raise a brow waiting to be filled in on what that business might be. When you don't rise to his bait he growls, and shakes you. "The girl, where is she?"

"What girl?" You know your tone must anger him, too even and unafraid. The devil always rules by fear if he can't rule by trickery. You haven't been afraid of the fae for years, not since you were a little girl, and you aren't about to start again.

The man shifts his grip, grabs your face in one large hand and squeezes. He holds your face with a firm grip, his fingers digging harshly into your cheeks. You wince and try to pull away from him. He keeps you in place, leaning close to breathe his smoke into your face. You do your best to smack a hand over his mouth, the other digging through your pocket for anything to help. Your mouth goes dry as you inhale, heat pooling between your legs with little prompting.

"Tell me what I want to know pup," the fae drags his thumb across your lip and you feel like you're made of mush.

Tobacco, you think. Your magic knows it well enough to anchor itself to it, giving him a buffer for his own magic. You suppose two can play that game, though you don't need a proxy to get your point across. You let magic coat your tongue, feel the spark of it as you shape your lips around silent vowels and consonants. The man leans closer to try and hear you. You spit in his face, and when he opens his mouth to snarl at you, you spit in that too.

"You little-" all the warmth is gone from his voice, though the low danger of it keeps the heat in your skin. Something to examine later you suppose.

"Dos oddi wrthyf," you curse at him, cutting him off. He rips his hands from you like you've burned him, magic taking hold of his movement in a second. "Damn bastard," you spit his smoke onto the ground, watching his eyes burn as they follow the movement of your lips.

You're well warded against men like him. Demons by a different name. He'll have to do better than that if he wants to take hold of you. The foreign contagion still buzzes over your skin, still warms tight between your legs; you'll have to scrub it off later, purge his foul magic from your body before you do anything else. You bare your teeth at him just to see his eyes narrow.

"You'd be smart to help me," He warns. You laugh, let the sound bounce off the stone walls that cage you in his magic. Your smile drags against your teeth.

"Then beg."

Something shifts in his demeanor, something hot burning through the ice that covers him, that freezes in his eyes. It raises smoke from the very cobblestone you stand on. Sulfur and Brimstone burn in your nose, and you drag a scarf from your pocket to press the embroidered silk over your nose and mouth. You don't cough, but you desperately want to, it seizes in your chest and threatens to choke you. Your eyes water like standing on the wrong side of a campfire and when you blink he's gone.

The fae's hands drag you back against his chest, tip your head back as you struggle for a breath. He breathes that tobacco rich smoke over you again, and you shut your eyes against the sting of it. "We'll find her," He promises, "and when we do, I'll be sure to send you a piece." His voice dissipates with the smoke, and when you open your eyes you find yourself alone, facing the open air of the street with the dead end of an alley at your back.

You push down the sinking feeling that you may be out of your depth, and step back into the light.

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #1fae1 #captain price mw2 #captain john price #captain price #john price #price x reader #price cod #price mw2 #fae!price #oc: witch #god he's so mean I want him to spank me until I cry #Witch he is going to love breaking you down

[raapija]

hi! as a prompt for pookie au (which i love), how do you think carlos would react to finding out his dad is dating LANCE of all people? would he be immediately freaking out or would he hold it in and rant to charles about it later?

Thank you for the prompt. <3

(Carlos and Charles hadn't yet met, as this is set in 2018.)

summary: Lance talks with Carlos for the first time after Lance and Fernando told him they were dating. Also some strollonso fluff to balance it out.

warnings: some swearing, Carlos being extremely mean to Lance

Lance fiddled with the sleeve of his hoodie. He could feel his ears burning as Carlos stared at him from the other side of the patio table. The cool evening air made his skin tingle.

"Why?" he heard Carlos ask after what had felt like 15 minutes of silence. Lance had sat down with him after having dinner with Fernando. It was the first time they told Carlos that they were together. Lando or Oscar probably would've blurted it out at some point, but it was definitely easier to tell him like this.

"What?" Lance asked for him to clarify what exactly he meant by 'why?.' He couldn't really look at Carlos, because he knew he was staring daggers back at him. They had been racing together for years, but had never really became friends or spent time together. Carlos was also a couple years older than him and had always been kind of intimidating to Lance. Something about those dark brown eyes.

"Why my dad? Of all people, why him?" Carlos continued his questioning. Now Lance looked at him and his heart skipped a few beats as he saw the expression on Carlos' face. Contempt.

"I love him."

Carlos scoffed and Lance felt something inside him shift. He straightened in his seat and took a deep breath. He wasn't going to give in.

"Listen," he started. "I really do like him. I know it's fucking weird that he's older and you're older than me, but so what? We like each other. It's not just some fling. He's done a lot for me and I for him. I love him."

Carlos studied him from across the table. The longer he didn't say anything, the faster Lance's heart beat. Adrenaline rushing in his veins as if he was on a race track, trying to overtake him at a high-speed corner. In the end, it was Carlos who averted his eyes to look away.

"If you break his heart, I'll kill you." Carlos said and Lance breathed out. His face was serious. "I've seen what it's like for him, and I don't want to see that again, ever. So don't you dare."

"I won't hurt him. I promise." Lance said and Carlos' eyes moved back to focus on him.

"You promise?" he chuckled, now sounding condescending. "That's what the last guy said as well. And then he left him."

Lance's heart was about to burst out of his chest. Maybe he couldn't overtake in the corner and instead would crash into the wall.

"My dad gave everything to me. He gave me a chance when no one else would. He doesn't deserve you. He's got all he needs in me and my brothers. He loves us. Not you. " Carlos said, his words cutting right through Lance like little knives. It made his throat turn dry. "You understand?"

"I do." Lance got out. Carlos' chair dragged painfully on the tile flooring of the patio when he stood up to leave. As he walked past Lance, he gave him a strong pat on the shoulder and made Lance flinch. Crashed, in the wall. Game over.

"I'll be watching you." Carlos said and then stepped back into the house, leaving him alone. Lance breathed out and a flood of emotions ran through him as he relaxed. He was 20. Just barely got into F1 and immediately started dating a 37 year-old with three grown kids. This really did sound like some sort of a breakdown if you looked at it from the outside. Still, he was glad the only person at his throat was Carlos and not the media. Only a few people knew, and that was for the best. He had enough on his plate as a 'pay-driver'.

¬

Later that night, Lance was laying in bed, deep under the covers and waiting for Fernando to join him. He had been in this bed countless times before, but the idea of Carlos lurking somewhere in the same house made him uneasy.

He could finally hear Fernando's familiar footsteps climbing up the staircase to the second floor where the bedroom was. As soon as he stepped into the room, Lance's mind stopped racing.

"You okay?" the Spaniard asked as he sat down on the other side of the bed from Lance. He must've sensed Lance's anxiety all the way from downstairs.

"Yeah. Talked to Carlos." Lance said and turned onto his side so he could see Fernando better. The older man laid his watch and jewelry from his wrists on the bedside table and the slid under the covers. They were both facing each other and Lance scooted a little closed so Fernando could wrap an arm around him.

"How it go? Not too scary, I hope." Fernando's voice was soothing and Lance settled against his chest, warm skin touching his forehead. He felt Fernando press little kisses into his hair on the top of his head.

"He only threatened to kill me, so not that bad." Lance said and Fernando laughed. Him laughing made it feel a bit better, like he wasn't actually going to get beat up if he made one mistake.

"That's my Carlito." Fernando hummed and squeezed Lance a little closer to him, slowly running his hand up and down his back. "Don't worry about him. He likes to pretend he's tougher than he is."

"He told me someone broke your heart before so he didn't want me to repeat that." Lance said and Fernando's hand stopped moving.

Lance heard a quiet 'oh...' and wriggled back a bit to look at him. Fernando's eyes were sad. Lance didn't like that.

"I'm sorry."

"No, no." Fernando hurried to stop him from apologizing. He moved his hand up and set it on Lance's cheek. "That's nothing. History. I got you now, so it's okay."

"Yeah?" Lance asked and Fernando gently tucked a bit of his hair behind his ear. The Spaniard smiled at him, his eyes back to normal and happy. The things Carlos had said still irked at the back of Lance's brain, but he didn't press on it.

"You fix me." Fernando said and moved in to kiss Lance on the forehead. He then pulled him close again and held his arm tight around him. "I talk with Carlito tomorrow. Tell him to be nice to you."

Lance hummed and could already feel himself falling asleep. It felt so safe with Fernando. Strong arms holding onto him and his warmth transferring into him. Everything was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

#ask #short fic #pookie au #nando and his mcnuggets #strollonso #hope you like this 🤧💚

[evercries]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤ ഒ ㅤ݂ㅤㅤ𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅ㅤ-ㅤᧉ᥎ı𝗅ㅤㅤ 𝓢𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅ㅤ ⠆ㅤ

╲ㅤ 𝖮𝖴𝖱 ㅤ✬ ㅤ𝖨𝖬𝖯𝖴𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖨𝖤𝖲 (Gojo x Reader)

Unfinished Fanfiction. ‹𝟹 High Chance of Re-writing. Word Count: 2783 AU: Older Sister of Maki Zenin x Arranged Marriage with Gojo Satoru. Thank you for 100 followers !!  ₍ᐢ‥ᐢ₎ Until school is over, my uploading time will not exist, or will exist and you'll be hit with a surprise.

The few times you had visited your family home were kept short, as you disliked being associated with such a violent group that’s been around for more than a decade. You did not realize how much the building had changed until you stood in front of it, the day you returned from abroad to pay your family a visit and because you were demanded to return. The grip you had on the handle of your suitcase tightened as you were guided by the entrance staff towards the door to the huge building that stood four stories high.

“We’ll handle your luggage.” Commented the staff member for the third time, the past times you had refused allowing them to handle your luggage, but apparently, they did not take the polite no you had given. Not wanting to cause chaos early, you let go of your suitcase, allowing them to take it away. 

You continued your steps up to the front door of the main building, but the door was already opened, the backs of your relatives clearly visible from where you stood.

“She’s here!” Shouted an excited Mai who came to your side to greet you, her enthusiasm filling the entire room while the others remained sat, silent, with an extremely serious expression on each of their faces. This included your younger sister, Maki who sat on the edge of the table, her legs crossed against each while her eyes narrowed at her twin sister who was busy dragging your hand into the living room area. Once there, Mai’s grip on your hand remained, almost as if she was showing off her new collection with the way she grinned. 

The awkward silence that followed made you wonder what you were doing back in front of all of these people, it brought back the uncomfortable sensation that you had wanted to forget forever, if you could. Now sat, you waited for them to speak, but they stole glances at each other, almost as if they were playing a game with their eyes. All this happening while Mai sat down on the armchair, her hands in front of her while expressing the confusion you also visibly expressed.

“A kid ate Sukuna’s finger, it’s causing problems with the Gojo clan, and they haven’t found a solution yet.” Maki’s voice overpowered the others, the clear annoyance echoing in the way she spoke, the long stretch and emphasizing how the three clans had not found a solution. You’d think all of them would have one person who came up with something, even if it sounded ridiculous or impossible, but there was nothing.

“What does that have to do with me?” You wondered before pausing. “I must apologize, I thought there was an important family meeting that needed my attendance. From the way the letter was written, it was either I attended or everyone would die.” This was not a joke, even if you wanted to phrase it as such, they did word the letter with an obvious dramatic effect. 

“This is about everyone’s safety, it could possibly end the world.” Naoya commented, his voice cracking with such a subtle hint of sarcasm.

“You meant our clan, right, princess?” 

The sudden comment made the room turn awkward again, but this time it was clear they had another intention of making you come back in such a short notice, practically lying to you about the reason, which wasn’t that out of character for them, but had to be mentioned, and now they could not speak. This was an issue because the Zenin family could not handle a single family meeting without tables being thrown, someone being hurt, and roofs collapsing. That was how uncivilized they were, and you couldn’t even make that nonsense up.

“We’re talking about Itadori, right?” Mai asked the room, but was met with glares from the elders of the room, but Maki’s expression remained the same. “He has an awful shade of pink as his hair colour, he’s a very cheerful kid, and he’s horrible at combat.” Mai continued to talk, her eyes shifting from you to Maki, almost as if she was tempted to tease Maki. 

“He has a lot to learn, is all.” Maki responded, her slender fingers pushing her glasses towards her eyes as she spoke. 

Mai shrugged her shoulders, jumping off from the armchair before picking up her bag which was lying beside the chair the entire time, but you did not notice. “We have a meeting to attend, right, Maki?” Maki said nothing, just grabbed her bag and headed out the back door with her hair swaying back and forth.

“Y/N, do you want to come?” Your confused expression must’ve answered her questions. “It’s a meet, Maki sees it as a competition. Master Utahime says this will help us improve, but I doubt that we’ll have to do anything. Those students are so bad, especially their first years. Maki is just lucky to be in her second year.” 

“Master Utahime?” 

Hanging her bag around her neck, Mai nodded. “Utahime, Lori, my teacher.” Almost as if the elders weren’t present in the room, Mai grabbed your hands once again and began to drag you towards the back door Maki had used earlier. “She has a scar on the left side of her face, how? I have no clue, she wouldn’t tell us the reason.”

You weren’t sure of what was happening, but the best thing you could do was keep quiet as Mai dragged you outside the building, onto the streets, and towards her school where the meeting was taking place, apparently. In front of the school, you realized how old-fashioned the design was, but it was a traditional high school, from what you had heard from Mai’s continuous talking. Once inside the building, Mai brought you to the door of the office, you guessed it was the office because the sign said so, but you wouldn’t be absolutely sure. It had been years since you visited Japan, the language slowly detaching from who you wanted to be.

✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜ 🍵✮˚

“And I’m supposed to leave you here.” She said, letting go of your hand. You glanced back at her, an eyebrow raised quickly. “Ougi.” It was all she said, but you knew exactly what she meant. That son of a gun, such a useless father he was. You nodded at her, which allowed her to give you a quick squeeze before running off in the opposite direction.

Now it was you and this door, it was such a pretty door. No, it wasn’t, you were just trying to pay less attention to the fact of being thrown out into the lions' den because your clan did not have enough knowledge and do it themselves, except Toji, he was the only one with the right mindset. Your late cousin, Toji Zenin was a man of actual talent, the only person you could defend for becoming a ruthless man, but unfortunately he had to die, to a blue-eyed freak with white hair. The worst combination of genes, you mumbled to yourself before turning the door knob, realized it was unlocked, and opened the door. As you were opening the door, it swung open, hitting someone in the face.

“Oh, goodness.” You said, a hand over your mouth as you let out a surprised gasp. In front of you was a blue-eyed freak? The man stood tall, his gorgeous sea-blue eyes staring directly at you while his thick eyebrows raised upwards with surprise, but the clear shade of a crimson reddish liquid ran down his nose. 

“Blood. You’re bleeding.” You said, acknowledging the nose bleed this man was having while your voice trembled a bit while you tried to find something to stop it, settling with the long sleeve shift you had on. However, when you lifted your arm to clean up the blood, the man glared at you, his hand grabbing your arm.

“I’m fine.” He said, letting go of your arm before tilting his head upwards as if he was trying to stop it, but you quickly grabbed his head, which surprised him even more than his eyes widened. 

“That’s dangerous for nose bleeds.” You commented, but he threw his head back away from your grip, but failed, which annoyed him even more. Just as you were about to say something, your eyes caught a glance of long hair, dark long hair standing behind the man. Your hands dropped from his face, apologizing quickly before turning around and walking straight to wherever the hallway took you. Eventually you found the exit door, but slumped against it for a quick second to process what you had just seen.

“That was Utahime.” You grumbled, your hands patting the side of your head softly, the thought of meeting her in such an awkward position did not occur to you, but you wondered if she realized who you were. It’s fine, it’s been years, and you did nothing wrong. You thought, convincing yourself that you’d be fine, before a buzz followed by a vibration coming from your pocket sounded. The notification that appeared on your phone screen brought a huge smile on your face. Yuki!

“Just heard you’re back in Japan, I feel betrayed! [inserted sad emoji.] I’m waiting in front of your apartment, we’ve got a lot to talk about.” It was what the text message said, which made you stand up fast, walk outside the high school, and dash through the streets towards the building. Surprisingly, you found your own way despite being guided by Mai earlier on in the day. Standing in front of your building was a signature motorcycle, its driver standing beside it, their back leaned unto it, but you could tell who it was. Her long blonde hair that almost reached her waist swayed with the wind.

“Are you perhaps waiting for someone?” You asked her, your head tilted slightly while your hands remained behind you. 

“I am, actually.” Yuki replied before throwing her arms over your shoulder, pulling you closer to her as she rubbed your head roughly, your hair started to fizzle a bit. 

“Oh, goodness, Yuki. Anything, but the hair.” You teased her while trying to get out of her grip to no avail, so you just stood there. 

“The hair is the best part, though.” Yuki responded before being interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing. Taking it out of your pocket, you checked the caller ID, which showed that your father was calling. Hesitate to pick up the call, you turned off your phone shortly before floods of text messages came through your Lock Screen. It was the location of a nearby house where you knew your father lived, separately from the entire family. Yuki noticed your intense expression, her eyes shifting its attention to your phone screen before sliding a helmet over your head, her hands carefully adjusting your hair and the small ones blocking your eyes.

“Yuki, I can’t. This is obviously another one of his plans to get me to start committing to the family.” You said to Yuki, but to no avail. She climbed over her motorcycle, sat down comfortably in the front while revving the bike’s handles with her hands, waiting for you to get on.

You climbed onto the motorcycle, behind Yuki, your hand wrapping around her waist to secure your balance. Once on, Yuk turned the key to the bike and started driving straight into the streets onto the road heading towards the location that your father sent.

The ride there was peaceful, the wind blowing past you sending a calm breeze through your face, making you smile. Opening your eyes after a while, you and Yuki stared at a building, a very traditional Japanese house, its house widened with stone while it was decorated with plants and flowers. Taking off your helmet, you patted your hair down before carefully climbing off the motorcycle.

“I don’t trust this man, Yuk, if I don’t come back out in ten minutes, kidnap me.” You said, setting down the helmet in Yuki’s hands. “Not actually, don’t kidnap me, but you know what I mean.”

✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜ 🍵✮˚

Yuki chuckled as she nodded. You smiled back at her before heading into the house. As soon as you entered the house, your nose was filled with an overwhelming smell of tea, followed by a faint smell of smoke. The servants bowed down when they saw you approaching them, one stood straight, her arms guiding you to the corner where the door was slightly opened. You nodded, walking towards the door she pointed to, but you paused at the entrance, your eyes shifting from the servant to the door.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door, revealing your father who was speaking with another man, but you could not tell who the man was as his back was towards you. 

“Y/N.” Your father, Ogi Zenin said, his condescending tone was the first thing you noticed before you walked inside, closing the door behind you. Your eyes glanced down at the man who sat down below you, his white hair being the first you noticed. Ogi gestured to the empty seat beside the unknown man, his eyes staring intensely at you while smiling at the man. 

Let’s get it over, you thought, sitting down beside the man, your head faced forward at your father, a visible uncomfortable expression on your face. Ogi stood up from where he sat, a groan escaping his mouth while he moved to your side, and then the wall that Ogi leaned unto earlier collapsed, exposing an entire room filled with people, mostly elderly people.

“Congratulations to the new couple, the road to peace and harmony in our clans.” Ogi shouted, the room responding with claps of cheers, shouts of happiness filled the room. 

Your head turned to look at the man beside you, his calm composure sent a shiver down your spine, but before you got a full picture of how he looked, you stood up quickly. You turned to face your father, the anger that you felt was indescribable. “You’re a scum, an actual narcissist who doesn’t care about anyone, but yourself. To think I would give you the benefit of the doubt was my fault, but you are such a bloody fool. Go  stick your fingers up your own ass, I am not marrying a stranger.” You shouted, but not loud enough for others to hear, before walking past Ogi and out the door.

Outside the door, the man grabbed your elbow, pulling you aside into a more isolated room, closing the door behind him. Surprised, you stared at him. “Can you move?” You asked him, but he did not move. Now that you had a better view of him, he looked familiar. The blue eyes that stared directly into yours, his white hair that flowed softly, he looked almost like! Nose bleeding guy from earlier.

His left eyebrow raised at you before placing a finger in front of his mouth, telling you to shh. “Behave.” It was all he said after some moments went by before the door was opened, multiple of the servants entering the room, approaching you with aggressive gestures. The man nodded before leaving the door, leaving you with women who looked determined to change your appearance.

Moments later, you found yourself in a huge dress which reached the ground, your hair was done, but you just stood there, uncomfortable with your phone tightened by your grip. You were annoyed, this was annoying, and the fact that you could not do anything but keep quiet was suffocating.

Maki and Mai entered the room, followed by two other people who you were unfamiliar with. Mai excitedly ran towards you, examining the dress and its beautiful decoration. “It’s so lovely, Y/N, you’re such a lucky girl.” Pausing, she turned to look at Maki. “Can you believe our sister fell in love with Gojo Sensai, that’s such a romantic story that only happens in movies.”

“What?” You asked, now this was making you more annoyed. “I fell in love with whom?”

“Gojo, Maki’s teacher.” Mai said, her hand pointing at the other students who stood beside Maki, “And Nobara and Itadori.”

You stood there in disbelief, but remained silent until Mai and the others left the room. You found this an opportunity to figure out what was happening. Walking about the room, the hallways were crowded with people, probably from the other clans, but you slipped past them carefully, remaining quiet as some of them congratulated you when you passed by.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo #satoru gojo #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jjk gojo x reader #jjk satoru #gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fluff #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu gojo #fanfic #evercries

[vanillacreambunny]

dottore x reader

genre: fluff, hurt & comfort

words: 1950

warnings: reader wears a dress but their gender is not stated, dottore is zandik, most likely ooc, wordy

notes: I wanted to write fluff with a side of hurt and comfort; forgive me if he's ooc. This took me an embarrassingly long time to write, but the fatigue and brain fog made it difficult. I doubt it's quality. As always, I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors that may have gone unnoticed. Thank you to those who take the time to read and comment on my work; it’s greatly appreciated ♥

No matter how well you play the part, you never seem to fit in, the smile on your face failing to reach your eyes and your voice sounding foreign to your own ears. Those who seek you out are not interested in you, but in the one you serve. You exchange pleasantries with feigned interest as they attempt to sway you with words of flattery that only leave a bitter taste in your mouth, enduring fake smiles, and judgmental gazes for your Harbinger’s sake. To them, you are merely his assistant—a means to an end—and although you know better, doubt and uncertainty creep into your thoughts as hours pass, names and faces blurring into one another, and you lose all sense of self.

When the lights become too bright, and the voices too loud, you find yourself missing the comfortable silence of the lab, buried in work, and hidden from eyes that now seem to follow your every move as you excuse yourself, disappearing into the shadows that gather at the edge of the hall. In here, the air is stifling, a heavy weight on your shoulders. They hunt you down like prey, their laughter ripping into you akin to claws would your flesh. He dreads these gatherings as much as you do, however, both of you are subject to Her Majesty’s will. You simply need a moment to breathe.

Shoving your arms into the sleeves of your coat, you step outside into the bitter Snezhnayan cold, enjoying the way the snow freezes to your skin and washes away your worries. The ice glitters in the moonlight—as beautiful as it is dangerous—encrusting the roses in the garden from their petals to their leaves, which serve as a reminder of one’s fate if they are not careful. You prefer this, the howl of the wind as it sweeps across the drifts of snow, while the glow of the aurora shines down upon you, familiar and comforting. The stars are so bright, that a part of you believes you can reach out and scoop them out of the sky into the palm of your hand.

Snow crunches underfoot, the intrusion sending a chill down your spine. You turn, your Vision gleaming in the darkness, elemental energy gathering at the tips of your fingers. No longer in the mood for their games, the sickening stench of alcohol clinging to their every word, and how they watch you, waiting to pounce the second they think you have let your guard down . . .

The Doctor himself stands before you, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. His cloak billows around his ankles as he bows at the waist and extends a hand to you, beckoning you forward. “May I?”

His voice is deep, rich, a mere whisper on the wind. Your heart leaps into your throat, yet you do not hesitate to place your hand in his, heat flooding your face when his lips graze your knuckles, and the tension eases from your body. His other hand rests at the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, his scent flooding your senses; crisp and clean, reminding you of the forests of Sumeru following a heavy rain. You shiver, but not from the cold.

A soft melody floats from the hall into the courtyard, and he falls into step with the music, his movements gentle and unhurried as you sway to the tune. The voice—befitting an angel—rises and falls in song, echoing off the palace walls and resonating with your very soul; beautiful but melancholic, the notes weaving themselves into your heart. Tonight is meant to bring the people of Snezhnaya together, to boost morale, and celebrate the accomplishments of the Fatui thus far, though you’re simply reminded of the uncertainty of the future as you look up into the face of the man you love. What is there to celebrate, you wonder, when death looms overhead, threatening to take away all you hold dear.

A tear escapes your eye, your chest tightening and breath catching in your lungs. This could be your final dance, and you wish to commit every second to memory, his warmth and the gentleness of his caress, something reserved for you and you alone. Will there come a day when you no longer feel his arms wrapped around you, his presence nothing but an echo of the past; you fear he may slip between your fingers at any minute. Imagining a life without him by your side is a fate worse than death itself.

“Enough.” He stills, hands dropping to your hips and holding you close. You shudder in his embrace as he catches your tear on the tip of his tongue, his breath hot on your skin. “Do not fret, little bird. Simply follow my lead.”

He gives you no time to respond, spinning you out and then back into his arms in one fluid motion, the star-studded skirt of your dress fluttering at your feet. The music swells, reaching a crescendo, and he dips you, your fingers touching the ground. Snow swirls around you—a mesmerizing sight—falling onto your face and clinging to your lashes, the world coming to a standstill. Closing your eyes, you allow him to guide you from the dark recesses of your mind into the beauty of the present, a contented sigh leaving your lips and a low chuckle slipping from his own. These are the moments you cherish, the happiness that accompanies them enough to last a lifetime.

You smile a genuine smile, your gaze flickering up to his masked face, snowflakes in his hair and a halo of moonlight circling his head; a far cry from the monster people accuse him to be. His breath curls in front of him, chest heaving as he lifts you up into his embrace and brings you in for the sweetest of kisses. Tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, you delight in his affections, forgetting about the party and the isolation you felt among the guests. You belong here, by his side, your Harbinger quick to remind you of your place—he sees you, and though he may not always understand you or you him, there is plenty of room to learn and grow, for yourself and for each other. He accepts you, and that is enough.

The cold begins to seep between your lips, sealing the kiss with a layer of frost, and you find you’re not opposed to the idea of spending an eternity in his arms.

Pulling back, he nips your lips, grinning all the while, the sharp points of his teeth glinting in the light. His expression—what you can see of it—is smug, an air of arrogance about him, but the blush creeping out from beneath his mask, and the way his tongue licks at his lips, does not go unnoticed by you. This close, you can hear the way his breath hitches and feel his heart thumping wildly against the palm of your hand, both a testament to his love for you.

“I love you too,” you whisper, and he inhales, his throat bobbing as he swallows. His smile falters, albeit briefly, the Doctor hiding his emotions behind a satisfied smirk and a quiet laugh, one that reverberates through his chest and bleeds into your bones.

He utters your name, softer than expected; you think you may have imagined it. “I—”

Clapping echoes throughout the courtyard, loud and sharp, shattering the peace. Lord Pantalone stands poised on the balcony above, the rings on his fingers bright and lustrous in the darkness, the Harbinger swathed in shadow as if it’s the finest of silks. His saccharine smile leaves little to be desired, and you can’t bear to hold his gaze for long, your face flushing from the interruption. He raises a wine glass in your direction, a mockery of a toast.

Dottore huffs in frustration, unwilling to entertain the Ninth; at least, not now. Without another word, he lifts you off the ground, disregarding your protests.

“Zandik!” you gasp as he swings you over his shoulder, the blood rushing to your head, and the feathers at his back tickling your nose. Lord Pantalone’s smile widens, his golden-eyed stare the last thing you see before Dottore carries you gracelessly into the palace, an arm wrapped around your waist.

The halls are silent, unusually so thanks to the festivities taking place. You pass the occasional Fatuus standing guard, their masked faces stony and backs straight as their Lord Harbinger walks past. Heat continues to rise to your cheeks, your mouth dry and heartbeat ringing in your ears; he never ceases to surprise and fluster you. When you squirm in his grip, he simply tightens his hold, muscles flexing ever so slightly. He could snap you in half if need be, yet you do not fear him. These arms have embraced you countless times, his hands—despite the blood that stains them—have touched you with a softness that does not befit him, protecting and loving you in the only way he knows how.

Inside your shared chambers, he slips your shoes off with ease and sets you down, the soles of your feet aching. Sliding your coat down your shoulders, he tosses it aside to work you out of the bodice of your dress, large hands massaging the stiffness from your muscles and joints. Warmth floods your body, and you lean into his touch, humming as he buries his face in your neck and presses a kiss to your pulse point. The day proved long and tiring, your nerves frayed and stomach in knots, but the reward is worth the torment.

“Your efforts are commendable, my dear,” he murmurs, removing his mask and setting it down on the foyer table. Eyes as vibrant and precious as Agnidus Agate stare down at you, framed by dark circles and pale lashes. You tenderly trace the scars that web his face, and he nuzzles into your hand, kissing your palm. Standing chest to chest, his hands caress the curve of your back, pushing your dress over your hips until the fabric pools at your feet like stars in the sky. “You have my undying gratitude.”

Your lips brush his cheek, and he angles his head to catch them in a kiss, short and simple but lovely all the same. “I’ll brew a fresh pot of coffee and meet you in the lab,” you murmur, twirling a tendril of blue hair around your finger as you draw him into another kiss, the Harbinger practically purring in response.

“Oh. You speak to me in ways others do not.” His gaze alights with excitement, your heart fluttering at the sight. “Do not keep me waiting long.”

The remainder of the evening is spent in the lab, a place you’ve come to consider your second home. There’s no feeling comparable to this, watching him work, nimble fingers handling Ruin Guard components; a simple project—one that is familiar—to unwind after a busy day. In turn, the lingering stress fades away into a calm that envelops you like a warm blanket, or perhaps it’s the weight of his coat around your shoulders. His voice takes on an animated tone the longer he speaks, detailing his current projects and future ideas, his passion infectious, so much so, that your entire being thrums with excitement. A deactivated core sits in his hands, and your arms encircle his neck as you place a kiss atop his head, your heart full. This is where you belong, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#genshin impact #dottore #il dottore #dottore x reader #dottore x you #il dottore x reader #il dottore x you #reader insert #noelle writes

[wosoluver]

Not good at saying goodbyes.

Part 3/? - previous - next

Lena x childhood bestfriend!reader

Today you got ready like any other day. Had breakfast, got into the car and drove to work.

What you weren't expecting, walking

in was to see Lena's mother there.

When she saw you, her eyes were full of sparkles.

"Y/N! I can't believe this! You're all grown up!" quickly giving you a tight hug you had missed very much. "You're so beautiful. You look just like your mom. How is she? How are you?"

"I'm good, she's doing well, she's planning on retiring and moving back here."

"It's so good to see you. Can't believe Lena didn't tell me you were here."

"I can."

And she quickly looked for her daughter, who had opted for walking away, minutes prior.

"You meant no harm. I know it, sweetheart. And now that you're here, she'll come to terms eventually.

She still celebrated your birthday every year. And hung up your Christmas stocking, oh and she still hasn't watched that movie you had made plans to see together."

"I kept a full diary of the first two years after I moved, so she could catch up, when we were reunited. And watched as many of her games as I could fit in my schedule. Also, I kept the big bear she won me, at the fair we would aways go to."

"Everything is going to end up in the right place. I'm leaving, but just in case, let me give you my number."

"Thanks, it's so good seeing you again."

"You two honey, you have no idea. Have a good day at training, and if you see my daughter, let her know I went home and that I don't appreciate her walking away."

"Of course."

She was just like you remembered. And for a second it made you feel like you went back in time, when you'd aways pass on her messages to Lena when she tried running away from trouble.

You made your way to the locker room but most girls were already at the gym.

"Obi, your-"

"Lena." - she harshly said.

"Everyone around here calls you Obi, I'm the one who came up with it!"

"Well you lost the right to it, when you betrayed me!"

"I didn't betray you! I was a kid! Who didn't know what she was doing!"

"You hurt me!"

"I was hurting too! And I thought the best way to protect you, was not saying goodbye."

"Now it doesn't matter why you did it! I can't go back in time, and tell the younger version of myself that! I can't tell her that everything was just a misunderstanding. I can't unbreak her heart!"

"If I could go back in time and change everything, I would. I swear. And I'm sorry that's all I can give you."

"Yeah."

What was that even supposed to mean? 'Yeah'?

In truth Lena didn't know either. She didn't know what say. She only knew how she felt and that was, confused.

"As I was going to say in the first place, your mom went home and you are in trouble."

"For what?"

"Leaving while we were talking."

"She can't be serious! You did it first! And I'm the one in the wrong?"

You only gave her a sad look as she walked out of the room. It was like you were eight again, and getting in trouble for doing whatever the other was doing.

You tried your best giving her some space after that. After all you had nothing else to say to each other. She had bursted out her feelings and you had apologized. And you had been trying to accept the reality. You were far from doing good, but you decided to put her feelings first. Being respectful, to her wish to not be in touch with you.

"Hey Y/N! We're going out tonight, please come with us." - Said Georgia.

"Sorry, I can't. I have some plans I can't bail on."

"No you don't!" - said Giulia. "Stop saying that just so we leave you off the hook, for not showing up at our get togethers."

At this point Stanway had went her own way.

"You can't keep doing this. You're isolating yourself from the team. This has got to be affecting your mental health, the girls are worried."

"No they are not. They think I'm busy because of a relationship."

"Only Syd thinks that. And I know the truth. Please reconsider it?"

"Okay, I'll text you if I change my mind."

You didn't. Of course you didn't. And that had been the last drop, for her and some of your teammates. After a long talk through the weekend, they had decided on keeping to themselves. To not make things worse.

But Giulia could not hold back when you walked into training, Monday morning, with deeper under-eye bags, and a emotionless look in your face.

You were tired. Tired of crying. Tired of isolating, and only talking to your parents, through a phone. Tired of blaming yourself constantly.

As you left to the field, they all shared a look. Even Lena. You seemed to be doing okay... until stoped pretending you were.

"Don't act surprised! Your the one doing this to her!"

She said looking Obi dead in the eye, and going after you.

"Y/N! Wait up. We can warm up together."

"Is that an excuse for another lecture?"

"No. But you can vent out if you want to."

"There's nothing much to say... Except that leaving Barça was probably a mistake."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"Thank you, for trying to include me the best you can, and for taking care of me. You're and the girls are great."

"I wish you gave yourself a chance, to be happy here."

"Give her a chance!" - said Lea trying to get it through her friends mind. They had stayed back inside.

"She did worse to me!"

"You're taking this to far! She made a mistake and apologized. And I think not having her best friend for the last 15 years, was punishment enough."

"But-"

"No buts. What she did was wrong. But she was a kid and she thought she was doing the right thing.

You're an adult, and you know you are doing the wrong thing! It's not the same."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Do you think your younger self would approve of this? Of anyone treating her this way? Because the Lena I know, would never treat someone like this. Especially someone she loves."

"You still care a lot about her huh?"

"I love her and I don't think anything can change that. I promised myself to never leave her again."

"Just don't break your own heart, to keep that promise."

"I don't think a heart can be broken twice. But I'll try my best not to push everyone away."

"That's a good start. You need to feel better for the match this week. Frankfurt is a little harder to beat."

It felt good having someone to talk to again. And you knew you could only blame yourself for the loneliness you had been in. And she was right, you had to give yourself a chance, with or without Lena. Although that isn't how you ever planned your life to go.

Next part out either today or tomorrow 🩷

#woso x reader #futfem #lena oberdorf #lena oberdorf x reader #dfb frauen #fc bayern frauen

[heavenlymorals]

(Warning: There are mentions of sexism in this post because I refuse to not acknowledge the time these people were living in and what that entails for men and women.)

The saddest thing about the Arthur and Mary romance is that it didn't happen because they were plagued by the same problem- family in 1800s America and what that entailed for men and women.

In Arthur's case, it was more obvious. He felt he had a debt to the gang, a debt he could never pay back- to Dutch and Hosea, his father figures who saved him, to the men he saw as brothers in arms, to the women he had to take care of and loved, and he could never for once think for a moment that he could also be kind to himself. Arthur Morgan, a strong man, a provider, a protector, someone that people NEEDED. Never once did people in the game ask Arthur what HE wants. It's always about their needs, and Arthur, being who he is, a selfless person to selfish people, would slave away to the ends of the Earth, to hell and back, just to be that pillar that they see him as, for Arthur Morgan is a man who had the world on his shoulders and couldn't, not even once, think about giving that responsibility to another man. He never could. His family consumed him to where his truest self, his most authentic self came only in the thin pages of a leather journal and the voice of lead. His family consumed him and the love he had for Mary, this want to have for once, something truly to himself, was inconceivable. How could he leave them? How? He couldn't. No matter how much he may want to, he just can't.

For Mary? Her family consumed her long ago, as soon as she was born, for she committed the cardinal sin of being born a woman in the 1800s. Whatever ambitions she had, they were impossible. The world made her horribly dependent from the moment she was born. Her prospects was being a lady, knowing department, and securing a marriage for the sake of her family and herself, otherwise, more likely than not, she will be thrusted into poverty or shame or both. And then she met Arthur and he showed her a world beyond the gilded age and she was happy because this love she had for him was her own and her experiences were ones that she wanted, not that her family wanted. She was happy with him, so terribly happy, but her dependence on her family crushed her- socially, economically, culturally. So when her family forced her to marry Mr. Linton, she agreed and forsaked her own love because how could she abandon her family? Her elopement would shame them and make her a disgrace to her sex.

They were both trapped by their families for different reasons but in the end, they decide to put themselves first and it was already too late.

When Mary called for Arthur, it wasn't for him and if it was, she masked it up by asking him for help with her family, the family that she forsaked everything for because how could she not? And Arthur helped. By God, he helped. Not necessarily because he wants to, but that's what love has done to him. It made him the one work stallion out of many who will one day be put down by sheer exhaustion of the weight on its back and the reward of very little. And Arthur would leave and go back to the gang, because how could he leave them?

But after years of abuse, loss of personhood, and the struggles of being a woman in 1800s America, Mary decides to be selfish. She saw how her father saw her as truly less than nothing when he decided to sell a broach that belonged to her beloved mother and then to be passed on to her. All that suffering she went through meant nothing because her father has shamed the family she tried so hard to keep happy and her brother was off to college and was no longer held on by the shackles of the wayward patriarch, Mr. Gillis. She decides to be selfish and asks Arthur to run away with her, so she can finally make do on that proposal long ago to be together, married and happy.

But Arthur then makes the same decision she made all those years ago when he proposed to her. He chooses his family. They need him, but maybe now it's finally over? He can pay his debt to them, have them live happy and free, and then chase his own happiness, his own treasure in the image of a wonderful and beautiful creature by the name of Mary Linton- and maybe in the future, Mary Morgan. After over 20 years- maybe he can be selfish.

But when he realized that these people that he dedicated his life to were draining him of life and hopes and dreams and gave him nothing in return but more troubles, it was too late.

He couldn't let go of these people who ruined him and Mary realized this. Her final letter was a heartfelt goodbye because as she finally broke free of those binds that tied her, Arthur didn't or couldn't. He made the same mistake as she did all those years ago and she couldn't handle such heartbreak anymore, for their souls were slaves to them who didn't deserve it.

And when Arthur finally did break free of those soulful chains, of those people who he loved so deeply, it was too late. Sickness turned a strong man to a husk and as he choked on his blood, he could only get solace from the fact that he tried. He tried to be his authentic self, he tried to be his own man with his own actions, he tried to be good, he tried to change, he tried, and his reward?

Choking and gasping on his blood due to actions in the past he never wanted to do but did anyways because the people he loved asked him to and he just couldn't say no.

Both Mary and Arthur loved each other. Fully and deeply but as their souls were entwined, their bodies and minds were held in bondage by a man's duty to protect and provide and a woman's duty of deportment and honor to families who ruined them. Both of them expect the other to forsake their family for them, but neither of them could do that at the correct time together.

All that remains of that love, true and pure, is Mary's ring on another woman's finger through her wish that Arthur could give the ring to another couple who weren't trapped in the same duty that they were, and that if they were, they had the strength to be selfish.

What a sad, sad story of two poor souls, Arthur Morgan and Mary Linton.

#arthur morgan #mary linton #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #character analysis #story analysis #they make me so sad #they truly did love eachother #but it was never destined to happen due to the duties they had from both their sex #and their “duties” to their families #when they finally decided to be selfish and for once put themselves first instead of their family #it was already too late #😭😞

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Lost, never found

Wei Wuxian ends up in Ghost City after he dies. Somebody is looking for him.

Loosely inspired by this official art

Wei Wuxian had not expected that death would lead him to the gates of a city. In all honesty, he had not expected to even retain his consciousness after the manner in which he had died and the way his soul had been pulled apart from his body – but here he was, standing at the entrance of a vibrant settlement, teeming with all sorts of unusual inhabitants.

Be they headless ghosts, half-animal ghouls, demons or monsters, the crowd past the gates was decidedly not human – but Wei Wuxian wasn’t either, not anymore, but his status as a ghost was still new to him, though not much different from when he was alive. If anything, other than the fact that his body was no longer in constant pain and ghosts weren’t screaming in his head, he felt quite normal.

As normal as one could feel as a spirit.

He stepped past the ornate gate into the city, and felt himself overcome with sights, smells and sounds, the place lively as it could be. Laughter, wailing, fighting, music, conversation – everything blended together into a low hum, all sorts of stalls and buildings lining the streets and people animatedly walking around. It was a peculiar place, all sorts of creatures selling all sorts of things, from food to trinkets and even body parts, ghosts walking about the markets, in and out of buildings, everyone blending into the large crowd.

It felt almost overwhelming – but more than that, it was nostalgic. It reminded Wei Wuxian of Lotus Pier, before everything happened – the hustle and bustle, the merchants, the games, the street food and the energy of a restless crowd.

It reminded him of Yiling, of the camaraderie between poor merchants and the way they traded customers, of the jokes and the laughter between stalls, of trying to get discounts and make a living in a place for the dead.

“You seem lost.” A smooth, confident voice came, covering the buzz of the crowd in a way that told Wei Wuxian it was meant for him.

“I…I am.” He replied, turning towards the source of the voice. A man in ornate, red robes and countless silver ornaments greeted him with a placid smile, one of his eyes covered with a black eyepatch. Wei Wuxian’s eyes caught onto the pearl shining at the end of the single braid in his dark hair, a detail he felt was not at all unintentional.

Wei Wuxian may not have known who this man was, but he could tell that he was powerful, dangerous. For a moment, he felt intimidated, missing the weight of his flute at his waist.

But, Wei Wuxian reasoned with himself, he was already dead, what was the worst that could happen to him now?

“Somebody has been looking for you.” The man continued, “Would you like to see them?”

“Nobody wants to see me.” Wei Wuxian replied, almost on instinct. After all, anybody wanting to summon his soul would for sure only be looking to disperse him, so it would be best to avoid them. He had known that he would not be allowed to rest in peace even if he died – the disdain the cultivation world held for him was boundless, especially as he destroyed half the Stygian Tiger Amulet. He had taken all that power in death with him, and likely ruined many plans with that.

The man insisted. “It is not easy for the living to reach this place. Are you certain you do not want to see the person seeking you?”

Wei Wuxian paused at that. The living… who could possibly be going through the trouble to reach this place for him?  He could not think of anybody that would – at least not without malevolent intentions. The only one that came to mind was Jiang Cheng, and Wei Wuxian knew if it was him, he had come to settle the score once and for all. To seek revenge, perhaps, and kill him like he had planned to. After all, Wei Wuxian died on his own terms, gruesome as they had been – he was certain Jiang Cheng would have liked to kill him personally.

“No.” Wei Wuxian replied, at last. “Tell them I am not here.”

--

Hua Cheng walked outside the gate of Ghost City, his expression unchanged as he looked towards the white-clad man in front of him. His expression, sunken, regretful, had lit up slightly upon seeing Hua Cheng, a glimmer of hope in his dulled honeyed eyes.

“He is not here.” Hua Cheng said, his voice almost sterile as the lie flowed out of him with ease.

Lan Wangji’s eyes widened for a moment, in disbelief, lips parted to say something though no words came out.

“The dead are elusive. You will not find him if he does not want to be found.”

The hope in Lan Wangji’s eyes dimmed as soon as it had appeared. He bowed deeply in thanks and left without a word, unable to speak. Hua Cheng did not hold it against him.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #writing attempts

[internetscenarios]

YESS cc!reader x tgc would go hard please do it NO pressure tho!! 💕

ok i had an idea for isaac,, IM SORRY I ONLY DO HIM OR YUMI i promise i will do the others soon

drunk driving ♡︎

it was a normal day for you, wake up, get food, do a stream if you had the energy.

today was a different day, your boyfriend isaac was hanging out at your house as the two of you wanted to get some stuff done.

it was a nice day together, you both went grocery shopping and had a cute little date in a cafe

tonight you had a stream planned, your viewers knew you were close friends with the group, but never knew why you ended up becoming friends

isaac had introduced you to them and you all grew close since then

“babe? i’m just about to start a stream, i think im meant to be drinking.”

you laugh softly, searching for him as he wandered around the kitchen, soon enough finding him.

“you should let me be in it.”

“what about your face being in it?”

“i can put my mask and glasses on.”

your mind hesitates, pouting slightly as you think whether you would want him causing chaos on your relaxed streams.

although both of you had been together for a while now, neither of you told your viewers. it would be a nice introduction stream, and also suprise everyone.

“okay fine. but you can’t be screaming into my microphone, my streams are more relaxed than yours.”

he rolls his eyes, yet nods and smiles as he looks down at you.

(🤤🤤)

soon enough the stream was starting, isaac was still downstairs cleaning up as you welcomed everybody and let people join.

you were playing american truck simulator with yumi, tanner, and soon to be isaac. but you didn’t mention that and would let isaac come in whenever to surprise your viewers a little.

once you joined the vc, you were suddenly met with yumi angry about how he couldn’t exit a parking lot, and tanner laughing.

“y/n, is mr 6’2 joining us?”

“he should be, hes just cleaning downstairs.”

“malewife!!”

you giggle, reading your chat as you opened up the game. the call was deafened so you could answer questions from your viewers.

mr 6’2???

is shaquille o’neal in ur house??

WHO IS 6’2 THEY ARE TALL

as you giggle, leaving your viewer’s confused and looking for answers you start up the game.

“so i have to take a drink everytime i crash??”

yes

YES

drunk y/n time oh no

you laugh, when suddenly a notification of a donation comes through

isaacwhy donated 20$: “ill be up in a minute, u look good tonight :)”

the donation reads out, which leads you to rub your forehead in annoyance but amusement

“isaac you can just text me!”

this leads your chat practically screaming at you.

ISAACWHY???

WHY IS ISAAC HERE

HE IS MR 6’2 WHATTTT

you rolls eyes, undeafening in discord and getting onto the game.

within the span of 5 minutes isaac wasn’t up, but you were focused on driving and desperately trying not too crash; in which you failed and had already had 4 sips of your drink already.

suddenly, you feel a strong bicep go around your neck playfully. it was isaac, he wasn’t actually hurting you, just faking it for the stream

“chat i will literally kill her.”

he say’s playfully, with you playing along and saying some muttered “noo” and “helpp!”

Y/N NO

POUR YOUR DRINK ON HIM

RUN

he laughs, letting go of you as he stands beside you, only his body in view

(😫😫)

height difference check when??

“let me move my chair, out height difference isn’t that bad.”

you move your chair, standing next to isaac. your full body and face was in the the camera view, while isaac practically towered over you.

you laughed, getting back in your chair, as isaac crouched down next to you with his mask and glasses on.

soon enough, you had crashed about 50 times and isaac was your servant on getting you another drink.

“do you need another drink?”

“yessss”

“too bad you’re not getting it.”

“babee..”

your drunken self not realising that petname had slipped out, you both tried to keep the relationship lowkey throughout the stream.

but your intoxicated brain had slipped up, causing the chat to go wild.

babe??

EXCUSE ME

bro called him babe

y/n and isaac marriage when??

you laugh, reading your chat with your head spinning.

“when are we getting married?”

“i thought i was already your malewife?”

a few giggles come out from you, hearing tanner screaming down his mic that him and isaac were already married.

soon the stream ends, and you flop your head on your desk.

“come on babe, you can’t fall asleep there.”

no response.

he sighs, lifting you up with ease from you chair and throwing you over his shoulder, which might’ve been a bit heavy on your head from dangling upside down.

within minutes you were placed in your bed, changed into more comfortable clothing and fast asleep.

ok lowkey i do not like this at allARGHH someone tell me if its good or not 😢

bit of fluffy isaac at the end thooo

#the group chat #the group x reader #isaacwhy #tgc x reader #isaacwhy x reader #isaacwhy x you #the groupchat x reader #the group

[photogirl894]

I know I've shared before a bit of what The Bad Batch has meant to me, but I just feel that I have so much more I want to say. Though, in all honesty, I don't think I'll ever be able to put into words exactly how much it means to me, but I'll certainly endeavor to do my best 😊

Having grown up with Clone Wars and just being a lifelong Star Wars fan in general, I was excited when the Bad Batch show was announced. Another Star Wars animated show?? Hell yeah!! I was so down for it. I remember going to my parents place to watch it with my family and my friends...and I fell in love SO fast! I remember thinking the Bad Batch were cool in their CW season 7 arc, but that was about it. Something about them in "Aftermath" changed my view of them and having Omega show up, too, made it even better. Then episode 2 came out later that week and I knew I was hooked right as the episode ended.

I had no idea just how much this show would consume my life 😅

I hadn't been so obsessed with a fandom since The Hobbit movies. That fandom was what introduced me to writing fanfiction and to Tumblr. Then Bad Batch was what made me go back to Tumblr and to fanfiction, as well. It made me start writing for the world of Star Wars, a world I didn't think I would ever be able to write for. I came back to Tumblr after a few years cuz once I found myself going so crazy for this show, I knew Tumblr was the right place to find other people just as crazy about it, just like I'd been able to do for the Hobbit.

And boy, was I right!!

I have found almost more people who loved Bad Batch as much as me than I did in my Hobbit days. Every single person I've talked to and interacted with have impacted my life in so many ways. I even had the special privilege of meeting a couple people in person, as well, which were wonderful experiences! I've spent many hours on discord calls either just one on one with certain people or in severs with big groups of people, playing games, chatting and just having a grand time. I've made some of the greatest friends I've ever had here and it's all thanks to the Bad Batch! I would name each person here, but I don't want to accidentally leave anyone out because there are just so many I'd want to mention, but you all know who you are! 💜💜 I mean it when I say I love all of you, every person I've ever interacted with! You all are truly amazing and I seriously hope I'll get to meet more of you in person in the future 💜

Being back on Tumblr also came with its fair share of drama over the past couple years, but if anything, all that made me stronger, more resilient and it also showed me who my true friends are. I'm grateful for those who stood beside me in those times.

Many of you have been there for me through other hard times in my life, when I had awful drama at work or financial troubles or just bad days in general. A lot of you let me vent so many times and offered me kindness, help and advice, which have meant the world to me. Some of you have even supported mine and my friends' Twitch and YouTube channels and have watched our Star Wars D&D streams or our charity streams, which also means so much to me and I can't thank those of you have supported us enough!

I've learned a lot from the Bad Batch over the years, as well.

Hunter taught me to never give up on your family and to fight for what you think is right.

Crosshair taught me to stick to your beliefs and that it's always possible to change.

Echo taught me to always be loyal to your friends and that you can grow beyond your trauma.

Tech taught me to always be who you are, no matter what everyone thinks, and to treasure your knowledge of things.

Wrecker taught me that it's okay to still have a playful side and to never be afraid of sharing what you love with people.

Omega taught me that compassion is not a weakness, but a strength and you're never too small or too young to make a difference.

So much of my life has changed in just 3 years because of this group of ragtag Clones and their exciting adventures in a galaxy far, far away. Even now, I don't think I've said everything I want to say...but I know I've said just enough.

Now, the show is coming to an end...and I'm feeling the same sadness I did when I knew the last Hobbit movie was coming out. Because that means the thing that has given me something to look forward to for so long is ending. I've become so emotionally invested in these characters and stories and I feel like I'm saying goodbye to loved ones. I legit don't know what I'm gonna do for a while.

One thing I do know I AM gonna do is I'm not going anywhere in the fandom. Space Mama will be around for a long time to come 😊💜 I've got fics to write and friendships to maintain!

All that's left to say is thank you. Thank you to every single person who have come into my life and will continue to be a part of it. Thank you to Dave Filoni (who I know, at least, started the show and brought the Bad Batch into Clone Wars) Jennifer Corbett, Brad Rau, the Kiner's, Joel Aron and, of course, Michelle Ang and Dee Bradley Baker for bringing this fantastic show to life.

In the words of Hunter: "Change takes getting used to. You'll see. Just give it time." Words we're all going to have to live by.

But also, in his words: "If this is where you want to be, then this is where you'll stay."

This is where I want to be...and this is where I'll stay 💜💜

May the Force be with us all...always 💜

#star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch hunter #bad batch crosshair #bad batch echo #bad batch wrecker #bad batch tech

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Hunger games au

Character inspo: Rafe: coryo, JJ: sejanus, Kiara: Lucy gray, John B:Peeta, Sarah: Katniss.

I don’t think this has been done? If it has lmk ): i was rewatching all the movies for fun and this came to my mind I have sm brainrot. Probably not making this into anything this is just for fun(:

Rafe would be the academy’s darling boy. Always was the top of his classes, and was a hell of a good mentor, even led his mentee to victory before climbing his way to the top and becoming president. When he was president, he hosted beautiful galas and balls, and no one questioned the man, especially not after his old victor disappeared.

JJ is a born rebel. He never liked the games, never supported them. He was open about it most the time, but no one knew he would take it far enough to the point it got him killed. It hurt his heart seeing them be sent through the games, and if he got killed for it, so be it. He was dying for something he believed in, and to him, that was all that mattered.

John B is a rather charming boy. He loves his group, but more than anything or anyone, he loves Sarah. He would do anything for her, he’s more than willing to sacrifice himself if it meant she was okay. He’s kind, truthful, and he’s the golden boy of the games.

Kiara is a sweet girl, she cares for others, animals a lot as well. She’s loved throughout all of district 12. She stuck with her group of rebels, JJ, John B, Sarah and Pope till the end. And she would do anything for them. Until her name was picked for the reaping, she heard multiple outcries from her friends, her looking back at her loved ones, JJ mostly, as she was dragged up on the stage. She was met with her mentor, Rafe. And the rest was lost to history.

Sarah is an independent, brave girl. She’s skilled, and she makes it clear that she doesn’t really need anyone. However, she falls for John B during the games and the revolution. But she’s also falling in love with Topper, which causes some problems between John B and her. Eventually, they sort it out and Sarah is back with John B, her soulmate. Everyone in the capital loves them, they’re the best couple to come out of the games.

#obx #hunger games au #hunger games #rafe cameron #obx rafe cameron #kiara carrera #john b routledge #john b #sarah cameron #jj obx #jj maybank #rafe obx #obx fanfiction #kiara obx #outerbanks rafe #outer banks #obx series #obx imagine #obx fic #rafe outer banks #outer banks jj #jj outer banks

[crimsonhydrangeavn]

I got a question for Garrett, what would happen if MC decided pamper him

Like complimenting him daily

Telling him to rest and spend time

Reminding him he's enough and that perfection isn't always the answer and that MC fell in love because who he truly is and not the one he shows outside of Saint Anne

Instead of going out to dinner, making home cooked meals and etc.

And also help him get the proper help he really needs. That poor baby needs a hug ;-;

Oh my, this is literally the sweetest ask ever! Just the thought of you taking the time to try and heal Garret warms my heart! So much so I'll can't help but share a few little spoilers about his past. I'll make sure to mark them so you don't accidentally spoil yourself if you don't want to!

Honestly, I think Garret's initial reaction would be to happily accept the compliments, home cooked meals, and quality time chalking it up as what a "healthy" relationship should look like. That being said, he would absolutely spoil you and reciprocate all of those sweet and loving gestures.

When it comes to the positive affirmations and being told that he doesn't need to be perfect... well it'll take some time for him to fully believe your words.

At first he'd think your just being kind and saying what expected of wonderful life partner. However, once it sunk in that you were being genuine and you actually meant it... He'd have a really difficult time accepting it.

SPOILER STARTS BELOW

Garret was raised to be his parent's golden only child. That being said, nothing he did was ever enough for his parents. Straight A's? Why not straight A+'s? You won first place in a race? Why aren't you competing in the nationals? What's that? You won a national competition? Why didn't you beat the previous record? Oh you did? Well you need to focus on other extracurriculars if you want to get into the same Ivy league school your father went to. Nothing he did was ever enough for them, however he was far better than his classmates when it came to nearly everything. Grades, athletics, extracurriculars, looks, body, social acumen, etc. All of the girls in his private school wanted to be with him and all of the guys wanted to be him.

However he never saw any of them to be worthy of his time, not until you came along that is...

END SPOILER

The thought of someone like you, the object of ALL of his affections, believing that he's worthy? That he doesn't have to run several miles a day and practically starve himself to maintain his model-esque figure? That he doesn't have to spoil you in riches beyond your wildest dreams?

It'll be a lot for him to understand and accept. However, once he finally believes your sincerity, the poor guy cling onto you and will break down into heart-wrenching sobs.

Finally, finally someone accepts him. Not for the perfect mask he's been trained to wear from a young age, but actually loves and accepts him for who he is on the inside.

And it's not just anyone. It's you. The one he adores, the one he's been completely and hopelessly devoted to since he first saw you, the only one that truly matters.

He would be a completely wreck, but with your patience and kind words he might actually have a shot at healing himself and actual redemption.

Of course, that'll all depend on your actions in and outside of game. ; )

#original character #yandere #yandere visual novel #yanderes #male yandere #yandere vn #crimson hydrangea #visual novel #crimson hydrangea vn #ask #garre #garret belmont

[onawhimsicot]

i know not many people would want to read a 10,000 word article about the minecraft end poem and how the author, Julian Gough, was never fairly compensated for his work and has made it public domain.

But it's a very well-written and heartfelt read, and he makes it very clear that none of this is a cash-grab and despite the fact that he is essentially a starving artist in this capitalist society, he only mentions his financial struggles despite Minecraft's huge huge success at the bottom of this article and not in the tweets so as to not dilute his message.

Anyway, I just think it'd be cool if those who are able to could support him in some way whether it be subscribing to his substack or donating to his paypal (that's linked in the article, you can ctrl + F to find it easier), that's all.

#Edit: Please look at the article for his paypal and his substack!! most ppl are reblogging a version where i didnt mention it oh gosh #im not really. the kind of person to make posts like this and i dont have the spoons to make it look nice. #my tumblrs not that visible anyway so i guess it doesnt actually matter #i just think that understandably not many ppl would read through the entire article and it makes me so sad that even in the article #he talks about how badly he just wants to make art and not play the capitalism game and still he doesnt talk about needing support #on the platforms where it'd be most visible bc he doesnt WANT to play the capitalism game even if society dicates it and its meant to #be an act of LOVE and just. yeah. #minecraft #minecraft end poem #mineblr

[ineed-to-sleep]

Blacked out in front of my tablet and woke up with sketches of my Touchstarved mc + Kuras my beloved. woops

#I found out dr. kuras is 6'6 I said hold on lemme get a stool so I can climb this man #touchstarved #touchstarved game #touchstarved kuras #kuras #sleepyscribble #oc.emma #my mc is meant to be a self insert but also like. I wanted to come up w a design and character arc and everything jkvkvk #so I ended up basing her on my personality/looks but taking her into a direction that would fit the game #she's like. me but 'characterized' and a bit exaggerated for the sake of being a character yk #the way she turned out is that she's basically a friendly happy go lucky mage who laughs at her own misery but hides #a deep layer of self loathing underneath all that bc of her curse #having been cursed all her life she believes she's a monster and the sunny personality is a way for her to 'make up for it' #but at the same time she feels like a farse. like she's only luring ppl in to an inevitable demise #and she thinks she's selfish bc despite knowing the danger she poses she still goes out there and puts herself among ppl #bc she craves human connection. even tho she feels guilty for 'indulging' in it #anyway I love the cursed mc concept in this game <3 it's been really interesting to think abt how that would affect someone #also I kept her physical features looking pretty much like mine #bc I wanted to draw myself in a cute way. teehee #but the clothing I was basically thinking like. early game simple clothing that she didn't rlly pick for herself #and maybe later I can have an updated design w something she would actually pick for herself