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mysecretlittlelibrary · 9 months

Text

One Last Lesson

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: okay so there's some switching on both sides but mostly dom!Spence, oral (f receiving), age gap (reader is over 21), teasing, pet names, marking a lot, p in v sex, praise/minor body worship, yk I love some dirty talk so- that's there, multiple orgasms, riding, marking- I hope I got everything??

Genre: Just fluff, Just smut

Summary: It's been a year, Spencer is yours, but it seems someone just won't back off at the alumni gala

A/N: I wasn't planning on a Pt. 3 for this yall it was a duology lmao- I saw the demand but I had nowhere to take it; so you can thank @shan-yee because their comment inspired the continuation of this saga :)

***

Spencer walks over to you and places his hands on either side of the counter you're sitting on. You're spending the night at his place and right now he's cooking dinner.

"You know, it's been almost a year now." He says kissing your neck.

"Since what exactly?" You ask him.

"Since you graduated is what I meant, but also since we made it official technically." Spencer squeezes your hand and then grabs a spatula from a drawer and walks back over to the stove.

"Oh yeah, we're a few months off from it I suppose." You hum.

"The alumni gala is this weekend. Do you- plan on going?"

"It's this weekend? Really? I didn't even realize."

"Oh." He says, his back is facing you but you're positive he's leading up to something and that answer didn't give him the lead up he was hoping for.

"Why are you asking?" You smile.

"Well I was thinking that if you were planning to go we could go together. I mean I'll be there regardless but like- it'd be nice to go as a couple. If you wanted to do that." He shrugs.

"Do you want me there Spence?" You ask.

"Of course I do. I always want you by my side."

"Then I'll go. We'll go. As a couple."

"You're sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" You frown. Spencer turns around to look at you.

"Well you know, I don't want you to be uncomfortable if people say-"

"I don't give a fuck what anyone might have to say. I like you Spencer, I like being with you. Nobody's random opinion is gonna make me stop feeling that way." You shrug. Spencer's eyes soften, adoration shining in them.

"Okay." He smiles.

"Oh, but when we go we should change the timeline a little." You say.

"What do you mean?"

"Instead of telling them we've been together almost a year, tell them it's only been a couple of months." You shrug.

"So if we've only been together a couple of months what's like- the rest of our story?"

"Well we can say we ran into each other at a bar a few months ago, got talking, and realized we had a lot in common- decided to see where things go and it's been great so far."

"Okay." He nods.

"I know you don't particularly like lying but it's for you. I don't want anyone doubting the ethics of our relationship and calling into question your job. So stick to that story and try not to oversell it with details. The more complex the harder it is to keep things straight."

"Well, what if they ask for details?"

"I can't imagine we'll spend a lot of time apart at the gala so chances are I'll be there to handle that for you but if you find yourself alone and they ask you something you don't want to risk complicating- just tell them 'things are still new and you don't wanna risk jinxing anything' and then find a way to change the subject to literally anything else."

"Things are still new and I don't wanna risk jinxing it- okay sure. You're a- good liar."

"I've thought about it before, in case anyone started asking questions- at least for the next few years. After a while, no one will care but you know, for now. I don't want you to lose your job or anything because of me." You shrug. Spencer walks over to you and tilts your head up to look at him. He kisses you sweetly and quickly.

"That's sweet of you to be that concerned about it but you shouldn't stress too much about my job." Spencer says.

"I know, I know, but I care about you, Spence. Of course, I'll worry about that sort of thing."

"You're so cute." He chuckles, returning to the stove to finish cooking dinner.

"Yeah, I know." You say jokingly, making him laugh harder. A few minutes later, dinner is finished and you move from your spot on the counter to the living room to eat and watch TV with him.

~*~*~

When the day of the gala comes around that weekend, you spend more time getting ready than you usually would. Your dress is a gold floor-length number with no sleeves and a dangerously high slit. You pair it with black lace gloves just because you can and your makeup is killer if you do say so yourself. Not that you have to, Spencer's reaction when he comes to pick you up is more than enough confirmation that you look drop dead.

"Woah." He breathes out, his eyes wide.

"Hello to you too Spence." You chuckle stepping into the hall and locking your apartment door.

"I- hey. You look stunning baby."

"Thanks, you don't look too bad yourself love." You wink at him as you loop your arm through his. He's wearing a black dress shirt with gold detailing which you didn't know he was planning on wearing when you picked your dress but how convenient that you match. You notice he's forgone a tie and left the top couple of buttons undone and part of you wants to skip the gala altogether, but you got all pretty so to the gala you will go.

By the time you arrive, it seems the event is already in full swing, the hall is full of familiar and unfamiliar faces between faculty, alumni, and current students- who apparently are welcome and encouraged to attend these things. In fact, you're barely there for 10 minutes before some of your former classmates get a hold of you and drag you away from Spencer. So much for being together most of the night. It's fine, you remind yourself, he's a big boy, plus he's got his script. You focus on the conversation you're part of, a few guys and girls from your department are playing catch up, everyone sharing the most important news from their lives post graduation.

You find yourself in several more of those kinds of conversations with various groups of people over the next hour or so. Side effect of being half part of so many social groups during college you suppose. Every once in a while you steal glances at Spencer, who mostly seems to be enjoying himself with his colleagues. You know Spencer was expecting this night to be a sort of debut for your relationship at his job so you wanted to be with him most of the night but maybe this is fine, him with his people and you catching up with friendly acquaintances you haven't seen in a while.

Just as you're settling with that idea you catch Professor Greene beelining towards Spencer and you can't help the internal eye roll when she walks up to him with a megawatt smile. You split your attention between the conversation you're currently part of and Spencer's interaction with Professor Greene. With things official between you and Spencer, you're much less worried about her honestly but you watch Spencer for signs of discomfort so you can rescue him if needed. You haven't heard much of her from Spencer since your little stunt last year with the hickeys so you're surprised to see her so friendly with Spencer. When you catch her place a hand on Spencer's arm and he awkwardly breaks the contact you decide to step in.

"I am- so sorry to cut this conversation short, I just- it looks like I need to rescue my date from a conversation he absolutely does not want to be part of but I will find you again to finish this before the night ends okay?" You tell Jordan, a friend of yours who you had classes with literally every semester of university.

"Girl don't even worry about it go save your man." He chuckles waving you off.

"Thank you babes, if I don't catch you again tonight, I'll just text you." You rush out before making your way over to Spencer and Professor Greene. You keep your pace light so as to not look vexed but you reach them rather quickly.

"Spencer! There you are! I've been looking for you." You smile, placing your hands on his arm gently. He relaxes with you at his side, matching your smile with one of his own. You turn to Professor Greene, still tucked against Spencer's side. "You're Professor Greene, right? I'm y/n." You stick an arm out to shake her hand and she takes it albeit a little hesitantly.

"Have we met before?" She asks with a curious frown.

"Not formally." You smile.

"I'm- gonna grab a drink. Y/n, do you want anything?" Spencer asks.

"I'll have a mojito if they can make one. If not then I'll just grab champagne from one of the trays floating around the room." You tell him.

"Professor Greene? Would you- like anything?"

"No thanks, Spencer." She says with a tight smile.

"Okay well you two wait here, I'll be back in a sec." He says jogging off. You can't help but smile as you watch him go.

"He's so sweet." You say before you can stop yourself.

"Oh that's cute." Professor Greene says.

"Sorry?" You turn to her.

"Are you one of Spencer's students?"

"No, I've graduated. Almost a year ago now. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just- perhaps I'm assuming but it seems like you have a bit of a crush on him." She says and you can't help the surprised chuckle you let out.

"Excuse me?" You ask with a smile.

"I'm not judging or anything. It's cute and totally not unusual! That's why I asked if you were one of his students, I mean- not that anything would come of it but having a crush on your professor and all is pretty common despite the- taboo around it. I one hundred percent get it." She explains.

"Oh, do you? You get it? See- the thing I get is that you have a bit of a crush on that professor but I'm fucking that professor so I'm not sure you one hundred percent get it seeing as we are not in the same boat." You say, your tone deceptively cheery.

"Excuse me?" She blinks at you incredulously.

"I'm not daft Professor Greene and neither is Spencer- it's quite obvious you fancy him which is totally not unusual and not that anything would come of it but I one hundred percent get it. See you don't need to placate to me because I'm the person he came here with. I'm the person he'll be leaving with." You say. Professor Greene's eyes narrow for a moment before widening.

"Wait no you have definitely been a student of his, I remember you. A plucky thing- sat in the front row."

"Surprised I left an impression." You cross your arms.

"Spencer always seemed particularly concerned with you."

"I was his best student." You shrug.

"Oh I'm sure you were. Extra credit will do that." She scoffs.

"I didn't need to suck his dick to be the best in his class I'm just that good. We only started seeing each other a couple of months ago not that it'd really make a difference he still wasn't interested in you at any point. You'd think by now you'd get the hint." You say and she levels you with another glare.

"Did you know they make flavored mojitos? The guy at the bar asked me what flavor you wanted. You didn't mention a flavor but I know you like passionfruit so I hope that's okay." Spencer's arrival doesn't break the tension between you and Professor Greene but you shoot him a sweet smile as you take the drink from him.

"Passionfruit's perfect baby, thank you." You tell him. "I was just telling Professor Greene here about how we got together."

"Yeah, Spencer, I didn't know you had a girlfriend!" Professor Greene says with a smile that's too wide to be genuine.

"Oh! Well, yeah things are still pretty new, I haven't made it a point to go around announcing it. Plus it's not like we're close or anything." Spencer shrugs and puts an arm around you casually, pulling you closer to him.

"Well yeah I know I know it's just- well that's kind of a big deal, isn't it? A girlfriend. You've got a bit of a bachelor reputation you know." She says and you let out a sharp disbelieving laugh.

"Do I? That's news to me." Spencer looks at you with a chuckle.

"Oh you know what I mean Spence."

"Not really but I guess it doesn't matter. I'm pretty private about these things, even though I'm obsessed with her."

"Aw you're so cute." You gush with a hand on his chest.

"Well you do make quite an interesting pair. If you'll excuse me, I see Darla and I've been trying to track her down all night so I'll leave you to each other." Professor Greene dismisses herself and rushes off to start another conversation elsewhere.

"'I didn't need to suck his dick to the best in his class'? Are you insane?" Spencer turns to face you with an incredulous smile on his face.

"To be fair it didn't start there!" You say.

"Oh yeah? Give me the breakdown."

"You left and she made a snide comment about me having a crush on my professor that 'wouldn't go anywhere', I got a little snippy with her and then she implied the only reason I was one of your favorite students is because you were screwing me but like I'm smart I don't need to fuck you for an A I already had one before you even touched me so- I was basically just telling her that."

"When you say a little snippy-"

"I honestly don't think you want to know." You shake your head.

"What did you say to her?"

"TLDR, I told her she has a crush on you and I am fucking you so we're not really in the same boat which was- probably escalating but she started it by trying to patronize me." You shrug and Spencer sighs though you can see his shoulders shake in silent laughter.

"You are-" he stops to laugh again. "Incredible."

"Thank you baby." You smile.

"Honestly that was very uncomfortable but I will admit there was something... captivating about that battle of wits you had going on." His head dips to press a kiss to your neck.

"Captivating huh." You hum.

"Yeah, you're hot when you get all territorial." He smiles down at you.

"You're saying that now because this time I didn't take it out on you." You chuckle.

"I mean, I certainly wouldn't have been against walking in tonight covered in hickeys like last time." He mutters.

"Naughty boy. Keep that up and we'll have to leave early you know." You muse.

"I mean I've spoken to everyone here I need to talk to." Spencer's hand slides down over your ass for a moment.

"So worked up so quickly."

"Come on princess, let's get out of here. I owe you one hell of a thank you for dealing with Professor Greene." Spencer mutters in your ear trying to sway you.

"If we're going to leave early, you'd better make it worthwhile professor." You tell him pulling him through the party towards the exit. He stops you just outside the hall to pull you into a kiss.

"Don't I always?" He winks at you and takes the lead then, walking you to his car and helping you into the passenger side. Once he pulls out of the parking lot, you put a hand dangerously high on his leg, rubbing up and down his thigh 'absentmindedly', watching the way his fingers grip the steering wheel tighter with each passing moment. At red lights, you lean over to kiss and nip at different spots on his neck, you didn't mark him up before going out but there's no reason you can't do it now. By the time you're back at Spencer's apartment, you can tell your teasing did exactly what you wanted when he rushes you through the lobby and into the elevator. He hardly lets the elevator doors close before he corners you against one of the walls. Spencer kisses you, rough and hot, his hands gripping your upper arms.

"You'll be the death of me one of these days." He breathes out. The elevator doors open then and you drag your fingertips up his thigh with a dangerous smirk before getting off. You can hear him let out a harsh breath before he follows you to the door. Spencer unlocks the door and lets you in, barely shutting the door before he pulls you against him in another searing kiss. One of your hands tangles in Spencer's hair tugging lightly which he rewards with a grunt and a nip at your lip. Eventually, you pull away from him, grabbing his chin a bit to tilt his head out of the way of his neck.

"Hm- they're not great but- by the end of the night I'll mark you up so well it'll be like a signed my name on you." You hum kissing him again.

"Whatever you want princess. Tonight's about thanking you, any particular way you want me to show my gratitude? Because personally, I'd like to peel this dress off of you and bury my tongue between your folds." Spencer mutters, trailing soft kisses across your neck and shoulders.

"That- that sounds like a great way to start." You say.

"Perfect." Spencer pulls you down the hall into his bedroom. His hands drag down your arms, pushing the sleeves off and subsequently dropping your dress to the ground. He lets one hand grab onto yours to help you step out of the dress and immediately drops to his knees in front of you. Spencer pulls one of your legs onto his shoulders, grips the back of your thighs tightly, and buries his head between them. You jolt forward as his tongue swipes through your folds, catching your clit and you tangle your fingers in his hair to steady yourself.

"Oh god." You gasp as Spencer pushes his tongue inside you, thrusting in and out, caressing your walls all while moaning at the taste of you and the feeling of you pulling his hair. Spencer can feel your legs start to shake and tightens his hold on your thighs when he drags his tongue up to focus on your clit. "Fuck!" You squeak, actually squeak, when Spencer flicks at the bundle of nerves with practiced precision that has you trembling in his hands.

"Spence." You moan his name in warning, your orgasm building quickly. He increases the pressure slightly, just enough to push you over the edge with a cry, your fingers tightening in his hair, holding him against you as you ride out your orgasm against his mouth. As the aftershocks of your release ease, Spencer eagerly laps up the juices flowing from you, his nose brushing your clit with each draw of his tongue. You gasp when Spencer hooks his arm under your leg still draped over his shoulder and presses his hand at the small of your back as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks harshly on the little button. You jerk against his ministrations but his hold is steady- even as he releases your other leg to bury two fingers between your walls. He pumps the digits quickly and you can feel another orgasm building.

"Holy- shit that feels good." You whimper and you feel Spencer smile around your clit for a moment before he continues to suck on it feverishly. Spencer pulls your second orgasm from you so quickly that you don't even realize how close it is until you're screaming from the force of it. Spencer works you through it, his fingers slowing but not stopping until your walls ease up against them. He gazes up at you as he licks his fingers clean before kissing just below your belly button. He kisses his way up your body, hands trailing over your skin until he's at his full height.

"One hell of a thank you baby." You say breathlessly. Spencer laughs and leans down to kiss you, cupping your face with his clean hand. You use the time to pull his shirt free and undo the buttons, then focus on his pants, tugging off the belt and shoving the slacks down his legs. You let Spencer walk you back towards the bed and lay back when your legs hit the edge of it. You watch as Spencer finishes undressing himself and crawls over you.

"I'm not done thanking you yet princess." Spencer says kissing your neck. He lines himself up with your entrance and sinks in with one thrust. He groans against your skin at the feeling of your wet heat engulfing him. "If I believed in heaven this would be it." He breathes out and you giggle a bit. That is until Spencer cocks his hips back and rocks them into you pulling a moan from your lips effectively ending your giggle fit. Spencer sets a dangerous rhythm of sharp, deep thrusts that have your back arching off the bed.

"So good- Spence, feel so good inside me baby." You moan, your nails marking angry red lines down his back as he takes you.

"I know princess- fuck I know." He grunts reveling in the sting of your fingers clawing at him. Spencer can feel his balls tightening as you drip down his shaft and he leans back to toy with your swollen clit. The sudden extra stimulation has whines and mewls falling freely from you as your third orgasm rushes you. The feel of your walls spasming around him sends Spencer into a frenzy, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release. Your mind clears just in time to catch the signs of his impending orgasm and you muster enough strength to flip Spencer onto his back. He blinks at you in shock but only for a moment as you start riding him and his face scrunches up in pleasure. Spencer throws his head back and you lean forward to darken the hickeys you left earlier and add more as promised. He lets out a string of curses and grips the sheets so tightly you think he might tear them as you bounce up and down his length. When you feel his muscles clench beneath your hands you sit up, examining the marks now covering his neck. You're more than satisfied with them. You thread your fingers into Spencer's hair and tug, forcing him to look at you.

"I wanna watch your face when I make you cum Spence. Don't look away." You tell him sharply. Spencer tries to nod but your hand in his hair stops him.

"O-Okay. F-fuck, whatever you want- please just let me cum." He begs.

"Go ahead baby." You tell him and that's all it takes for him to let go, hot ropes painting your inner walls.

"I was supposed to be expressing gratitude here." Spencer says after a few moments of silence, when his breathing is settled.

"I feel plenty thanked don't worry love. It's way more fun having you beg me to cum anyway." You say turning your head where you lay just enough to kiss his chest. Spencer lets out a small disbelieving chuckle and you can feel him shake his head as his hand strokes down your back.

"I love you." He says.

"I love you too." You say with a smile. How lucky you are, to have your crush work out so perfectly. Although if you ask Spencer who the lucky one is he'll surely say it's him. Luck is the only explanation for him to now have the object of his desires for months in his arms like this every night. Thank goodness you called him out that day in his office, or he'd have never gotten this far.

***

Part 2

Tagged Users: @regulus-black-223048, @perkypink19-blog, @p0ssywhippedcream

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut

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dtrghost · 10 months

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Okay, hear me out. Angst. Ghost. Both Ghost and reader are on 141, but have a secret relationship. They have a habit of tapping each other 3 times to say I love you. Reader gets mortally wounded and because they can’t speak, raises a hand to cradle his face and tap 3 times…. that is all. no pressure to write this but it’s stuck in my brain and it’s gotta get out.

MMMMMMM. MMMMMMM. I took it in a different direction, because if someone you love is dying, than you don't care about hiding anymore, i love this request though, and i'll be sure to do my best.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x GN!reader

Warnings: I cried like three times writing this so read at your own risk. death, blood, mentions of grief and depression and just a bunch of sad shit. happy ending if you think about it?

You had met Simon on a mission, a standard overwatch operation with you perched on a water tower, a sniper carefully secured to the railing in the dead of night as you guided them through the murky waters of a swamp, leading them with a single high-powered laser as a guide, watching for anyone who might catch you, him, or both. You guided them through landmines and body heat sensing, computer programmed guns sitting at the top of a canyon, and brought them back safely.

HQ saw how well you worked together, how when you moved, he moved, and how the connection went both ways, so they put you both on Task Force 141 where countless missions grew an undying, never breaking bond that supported you through the hardest times. On those missions, during the dark nights and bright days where the sun burned your skin and the moon kissed you to sleep with it's gentle gleam, you found yourself falling for him, and vice versa. You fell first, but he fell harder, and he desperately needed to protect what you had, so you hid it. On missions, you acted as you usually did, indifferent with an aura of trust that vibrated within the team, but three taps to the arm solidified your love for each other.

Three taps before a mission, three taps after a success, three taps at the end of every day, three taps before you slept, and three taps when you woke up. I love you.

I love you.

I love you. You needed him just as much as he needed you, and in a whirlwind of time, years of missions and sneaking off base to grab a drink at some shitty pub where you'd find yourself drinking a can of soda while he racked up glasses of bear, you knew that he was the one, and he knew it too. You married, a private wedding with only the two of you, the priest being an old family friend of Simon's who died a year later, leaving just the two of you with the knowledge of your relationship. It wasn't extravagant by any means, but it was enough to make the both of you happy, and that's what mattered. To the both of you, life was good, your relationship was kept a well maintained secret, your love still as strong as ever even if you couldn't express it as openly as you wished.

But you both knew the dangers, the close calls that led to nights where you'd sneak into each other's rooms, tears falling onto the pillow cases as you laid wrapped in each other's embrace, whispering soft words of affection that you couldn't whisper anywhere else, keeping quiet so nobody would hear you.

My love, My world, My other half. The arguments were limited to but a handful, all only happening because of a mistake on a mission, a reckless decision that led to a risk in someone's life. Simon or yourself dragging each other to the forest outside of base so you could let your emotions burst at the seams, yelling at each other with ferocious tones that symbolized the depths of your fear. Simon was the worst, he had nobody left, no family, friends being hard to come by other than his team, and losing you was something he couldn't afford, something he wouldn't allow.

...

So when you were shot, and he could feel your pulse slow down with your blood coating his fingers in the middle of a forest with just the two of you, it was almost surreal.

...not you. anyone but you.

"Hey, hey, look at me." He commanded, his tone firm yet contradicted by the fear in his voice. Blood was gushing out of your wound, seeping into his vest, his gloves, into his soul that felt like it was being torn apart, shattered into tiny pieces.

"Simon-"

"Don't talk. You're gonna be fine." His voice cracked as he shouted for help, evac on it's way as he pressed his hans down on your wound to try and slow the inevitable.

"We knew the risks." You soothed, your body growing weak as a tear dripped down your cheek, falling from his eyes as he hovered over you.

"No no no no please not you, not you anyone but you."

He pleaded, his voice hoarse and rough with agony as he rocked you back in forth, consoling himself and you as you began to fade away, clinging your weak and fragile body to his, feeling as if you were being ripped away from him. He hated how helpless he felt, how small the weight of the world and the situation he couldn't control made him feel. Regrets snuck up on him, he could've been faster, he could've been stronger, he could've said I love you and proudly showed you off to the world as his so you didn't have to hide.

"Simon, please, look at me." He did, because in his heart he knew he didn't have much time left, that this was your final night alive, the last time he'd hear your voice, see the light in your eyes staring back up at him, to hold you while you were still alive.

"I love you."

"No, don't start, you're gonna be fine. You're fine."

"You're right. I can't even feel it anymore. I'm not in pain, I'm with you, i'm right here." You soothed, your fingers coming up to his face, pulling up his mask in the solitude of the forest you were hiding in. You wiped his tears, smiling that smile that he fell for all those years ago. With three taps, he watched your eyes twinkle, symbolizing the last breath of a dying star as your hand dropped, taking your last breath as he tapped back, sending you off with a final, silent I love you as the sun sank, the warm glow fading as a cold current passed through him.

The world around him was silent as he stared down at your face, seeing the peace, the serenity as everything crashed down on him. Your future together was gone, your plans crushed under the fist of death, the force that swept you away from him as he cried your name. For days he didn't leave his room, letting his grief consume him as he listened to your voicemails over and over to ingrain the sound in his mind, your ring dangling from his neck as his tears fell on the framed picture of you two together that he had hidden away in his home. He couldn't sleep, he couldn't eat, and for a time nobody knew why, until he walked into work one day wearing his ring which he had altered to have your initials engraved into the gold metal that he adored, because he always believed gold complimented you the best.

You were his sun, his life, the reason why the world spun and why his chest continued to rise and fall with every breath he took. You were who he looked for when he got home, you were who he thought of when he looked up at the moon at night, and you were the painful reminder that he was once again alone, destined to live his life as the soldier who lost everything and deserved nothing. Days, weeks, and months passed, and he tried to go on, to continue his job the way you wanted him to.

And on one day, one day he'd remember for the rest of his life as his salvation, his body fell to the floor with a hard thump, the hot metal of a bullet striking him in the heart that ached for every part of you. His eyes met Price who went to call for medics, only to see the silent pleading in the eyes of his companion. John remembered that night, the night where he finally confronted his subordinate about his behavior, hearing the story of your love and remembering his words.

If and when it happens, let me go. Let me choose to be with them.

So John stopped his team with a shake of his head, the serenity of Simon's eyes bringing him the relief he needed to finally let him go with a smile his way.

"Find her Simon."

He couldn't help but smile at the memories he shared with you, his life with you flashing in his mind like he'd read in books or seen in movies, relishing the comfort of the rising sun as he embraced his life coming to it's inevitable end. He hoped that your death was this peaceful, that his arms that supported you brought the same warm and comfort that he felt in this moment as he went to join you, and as his eyes closed for the last time, he felt himself being pulled away by the gentle tide of departure from the physical world as a bright like glowed, encasing his eyelids so it was all he could see. With three taps on his arm and the gap in his soul being filled to the brim with your love, he knew he was home.

At last.

Yeahhh. I cried in front of my roommates writing this bro. Anyway enjoy!! Thank you so much for the request!!

#cod mw2 #fanfic #cod x reader #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod ghost #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley fanfic #ghost fanfiction #fanfiction

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vampiretendencies · 1 year

Text

request; hi! i love your writing! if you could maybe do “tell me about your day.” with jj! maybe he’s your first boyfriend & you’re taken back by such a simple question/gesture since nobody has ever cared about you in that way before.

warnings; fluff

pairing; jj x fem!reader

authors note; writing blurbs rn bc of writers block (sorry to keep saying that btw i just repeat myself in case there’s a new reader, though i am currently starting to get over it) but still send in requests for one shots, imagines, etc. you may choose a blurb from the list below or send in your own idea.

other ways to say i love you prompt list

2 months.

So fresh, and so perpetually new.

Honeymoon phase striking JJ as something that would actually last this time. Not that he had many relationships to base it off of, but the past few he had typically went sour within the first few weeks.

None of them could get along with his way of life, or they just simply didnt appreciate the wholeness of everything that was JJ.

But he sensed it with you; he felt it in his bones, under his skin, on the tip of his tongue, every ounce of his being felt you, even if you weren't in the room.

This was his most serious, longest, emotionally involved, admiration filled relationship he'd been in.

This was your first relationship, but after being underwhelmed in his past endeavors he found this to be his first too.

And he's thinking about you first thing when he wakes up in the morning, last thing when he goes to sleep- unable to function properly if you weren't near.

JJ was your first everything; first kiss, first time holding hands, first time cuddling, first time being sexually involved with a boy.

But, Christ were your standards low about yourself.

Initially thinking a human with such with breathtakingly confined gestures didn't exist like JJ.

He proved you wrong, convincing you that everyone else in this world were heathens.

He taught you how to create such passion for another, how to know someone's heart and you did the same.

"How was your day, baby?"

It rolled of JJ's tongue, finitely. The two of you were entangled in the hammock at the Chateau, and you were cradled into JJ's arms. Attached to his side, whilst he studied your features; peering down at your scrunched up nose as if you were heaven sent. You thumbed over the material of his beer-stained Heyward's t-shirt, coming to a halt at that question. Almost like the hammock stopped swinging, the unearthly beaming sun stopped shining on the two of you, and as if you'd sunken into the mucky ground.

You were in awe, glaring up at JJ like he'd grown two heads.

Was he being serious? You thought.

"Something on my face? It's okay you can tell me-"

"No m'just ... you meant to ask me that?"

Stunned, was an understatement, as you are now propping your chin onto JJ's muscular chest, needing a better view. Almost uneased and taken aback as that wasn't an everyday question anyone asked you— lead alone a boy.

"Course' I did ..." and then he noticed your furrowed eyebrows. "C'mon, what's goin' on in that pretty little head?”

"Nothing J, you're the first guy to ask me that."

""Let's keep it that way, baby. I'll be the only one."

He's repeatedly pecking the skin of your forehead leaving you to say, “Since I've met you all of my days have been perfect."

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thunderwetter · 1 month

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TF One Theory - Why do the Waves stand with Starscream?

So I was thinking about this screenshot and to me, there's one very obvious reason why this shot is the way that it is:

At this point in time, Starscream leads the revolution. There's no Megatron to cause beef between the trio. They pull in the same direction.

Okay so take everything here with a huge chunk of salt, we don't know how and why the war has started and neither do we know what the whole deal with the Con insignia is, but what we do know is that D-16/Megatron wears it the entire movie, discovers a helmet with the same shape and that there's a war going on even before Orion and D-16 have any chance of starting it. A war without insignia, mind you.

This screenshot heavily implies that the war (or at least a war) has started without Megatron and instead, his three angels are the leading figures with Starscream on the throne - but why would the Waves serve him?

First of all, the easiest explanation: Soundwave cares more about their goal than he does about their leader.

In previous versions, it has been established that Soundwave is willing to serve any Decepticon leader as long as he believes in them and that they will make the Decepticons succeed. From Marvel to the various cartoons and comics, he has rarely ever taken command and usually was right by the side of whoever barked the loudest: be it Megatron, Starscream, Shockwave, Ratbat or Galvatron (to name the most prominent examples). He's often seen to favor Megatron in comparison to others, but he's willing to replace him too if he doesn't see any future with him leading them to victory. See these examples from US Marvel G1 where he helped Shockwave destroy Megatron after he went insane and IDW1, where he allied himself with Galvatron, hoping to achieve peace:

Keep in mind that both of these examples were reactions to Megatron's failures. In the Marvel version Megatron went insane after Optimus died and was incapable of leadership, in IDW1 Megatron defected to the Autobots and denounced the Decepticon cause.

In early Prime, Soundwave kept Screamer in check, however he did not contest his leadership as he later did with Airachnid. He saw Starscream as a realistic alternative or at least a temporary solution while Megatron was out of order. Once again, him following someone else was directly caused by his previous leader's inability to continue doing so.

Soundwave's loyalty is to the cause.

But what about Shockwave?

Shockwave is traditionally shown to stand in direct contrast to the others. While in Cyberverse his dispute with Soundwave is played as a joke and his disloyalty to Megatron is merely hinted at, in the comic runs he is just as treacherous as Starscream and while he's not being as obvious with it, he definitely has the intention to ursurp the Decepticon throne or more. In the Aligned continuity (specifically the Exodus novel) it is mentioned that he provoked a war between Tarn, his city, and Vos, Starscream's seeker city, to not only eradicate the seekers but also to get in Megatron's favor and prove that he is the superior second-in-command. In the Prime cartoon later on, they have an active rivalry. Starscream is constantly being pushed back, and, most notably, is the only one to trigger Shockwave's emotions. Shockwave emotes with his antennae, showing irritation and annoyance with Starscream and even openly threatens him with physical violence.

However as is the case with Soundwave, Shockwave is seen to be willing to work alongside Starscream if necessary. During the End of Prime, we see Shockwave grab Starscream and flee to Cybertron together, where they also collaborated on reviving Project Predacon for Predacons Rising. Shockwave is easily capable of killing Starscream, he could also just left him with the Autobots after Megatron's end, but he didn't. He saw more logic in sticking together. He saw use in him. Curious, it almost seems like these two can get along once there's nobody to suck up to anymore, doesn't it?

G1 also has some very interesting Shockwave moments that lead me to believe that TF One is gonna lean heavily on the G1 characterizations for Starscream and Shockwave (and most likely Soundwave, too) OR make Megatron the reason for the rivalry to even bloom.

During Countdown for Extinction, Starscream makes Shockwave believe that Megatron is dead. Shockwave, blindly loyal in this version, shows distress and despair, however he allows himself to be pushed to the side by Starscream and do as he wishes (until he realizes that Megatron is still very much alive). In The Revenge of Bruticus, Starscream and Shockwave are also seen working together out of necessity, giving us this glorious screenshot.

But all of these examples are taken under the circumstance that Megatron is a key figure. "Megatron" doesn't exist yet in TF: One - so why is Starscream the leader? Who put him in charge?

We don't know the reason for the war / the purpose of the revolution yet. We know that transformation isn't a given in this version (yet) and we know that freedom is not what it seems. D-16, B-127, Orion Pax and Elita-1 are all seeking freedom and this is what not only gets them their T-Cogs but also the ability to explore a world that's completely different from the city they know.

We know that Iacon exists - so perhaps other major cities we know, such as Kaon, Tarn and, most importantly, Vos, could be a topic and possible locations in the movie. My first thought was that maybe the revolution of this timeline started in Vos, in the Seeker capital, and it was Starscream who started it, given that in multiple version he leads the city-state.

Because think about it: What is the perfect symbol of freedom if not wings, if not the ability to fly? Even the damn throne looks like it has wings!

We've seen quite the amount of seekers in the trailer too, seekers that are able to fly and to transform. Seekers that are identifiable.

These two are somewhat getting focused in the trailer, possibly Skywarp and Nova Storm (like in Earthspark), the second might even be Sunstorm (if Hasbro even remembers he exists).

At another point in the trailer we also see a winged corpse in the foreground. I have a feeling that transformation and especially transforming to fly is going to be an important aspect in the war here.

The amount of fliers heavily implies that we are perhaps right in Vos, the center of attention, and that is why Starscream is in charge. We are, quite literally, in his realm, on his turf. He is the most powerful one around because he knows his way around the city and he can fly and maybe he also has the political power needed to engage in a large-scale conflict like the one we saw. We've seen him as a politician before, as a good one too.

Whether it's with his words or his actions, he convinced the Waves to follow him and they deemed it the most logical choice to follow him to achieve their goals - whatever these may be.

Probably Megatron will be the one to rally everyone under the same banner, establish the Decepticon insignia and potentially sow the seed for the rivalry between his three commanders, becoming the ideal symbol, both a leader and the figurehead of his revolution.

I almost wish for the tables to be turned and him snatching leadership from Starscream, but I think it's more likely that the dynamic will naturally develop...or be forced on him with some good old abuse, we know Megatron. I wouldn't be surprised to see him beat Starscream up and the Waves realize that maybe following the strongest wouldn't be a terrible idea.

But yeah! That was my interpretation/analysis of that one specific frame. I'm really hyped about this movie, in case you can't tell lol.

Lemme know what you think and if you got something to add, feel free to sneak into my ask box and leave your two cents!

#transformers one #thunderwave thinking #starscream #shockwave #soundwave #megatrons angels #transformers theory

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marvelstars · 2 months

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Padme & Anakin anger &flaws

I may be in the minority but I do think Padme is principled and brave a lot, she has been that way since she was a kid, she was bassically trained to be that way so she could become a strong/good leader for Naboo and guess what Anakin is/was very principled and brave as well, the fact both of them share this about the other is one of the biggest reasons why they became involved and fell in love but Padme also is flawed, I don´t believe she was without flaws and one those flaws involve being almost as angry as Anakin.

We already saw Anakin´s reaction over Shmi´s death, Padme is almost as angry over Corde´s murder in AOTC, in the novel of Attack of the Clones Padmé has a moment in which she wishes she could murder the trade federation leaders and Count Dooku over Corde´s death and she wonders if that was how Anakin felt with the tusken raiders after they tortured and killed his mother, the main difference between them is that Padme would have to use considerable effort to do that which would lead to her thinking things over better, while Anakin could kill a lot of people just using his mind in the rush of the moment, he didn´t even needs his lightsaber to do that, so his control over himself has to be more constant.

Both Padme and Anakin share a perspective of justice being something that not neccesarily can be always tackled by a system, in fact Padme´s words after leaving the Senate to go rescue her planet was that there wasn´t probably any hope for the republican system, a concept like justice isn´t easily tackled by a system, especially one as flawed as the republic, Padme simply thoguht the republic could be fixed when she grew up and Anakin shared this sentiment as well but he wasn´t as hopeful as her.

So both have this rightheous anger in them and in Padme´s case that included her helping Anakin hide what happened to the tusken raiders, maybe she thought him being expelled from the Jedi Order and going to jail wasn´t the best way to deal with that, I personally think maybe that could have protected him from Palpatine but he surely would have found a way to become Anakin´s guardian and lawyer if that happened but my guess is that Padme simply had compassion for Anakin´s circunstances, because the origin of Anakin´s reaction was precisely being taken away from his mother, leaving her a slave which lead to her death and Padme knew as well as Anakin did that the dead of Shmi Skywalker would not garner justice from Jabba, the Republic or any other system or government body in the galaxy, literally nobody cared she died, only Anakin and the Lars family did which made Padme sympathetic to Anakin.

Padme also is very principled but imo she seems used to have a pov particular to her station which also leads to ignore some things people who had not been in her place experiment daily, she shares this flaw with Bail Organa as well. Slavery for Padme seemed a very horrible and sad reality but it wasn´t one of her priorities to end it, her priority was to help turn the republic into a more equal and fuctional body that could better deal with those situations and many others around the galaxy and she actually came close to discovering many of Palpatine´s schemes for this reason, which was why he and Dooku wanted her dead and she never semed to quite make the connection between slavery and the clones but then again nobody else did except for maybe Anakin and ironically Palpatine and Count Dooku.

Both Padme and Anakin were children forced into adult situations and both were told or were forced to, since a young age, to reppress their emotions, Padme as Amidala, Anakin as a slave who had to control his emotions so he would not bring trouble to his mother or himself and later as a Jedi. Imo this made both of them develop a kind of double life, Anakin in particular hated the Amidala persona, because Padme seemed so emotionless when she was that way but curiously enugh as Vader, one of his main go to presentation cards is to act almost as emotionless as Queen Amidala.

What I don´t view and never will see as part of Padme´s flaws is her love for Anakin or her wish to save him from himself in ROTS.

Those are not flaws, those are part of her strenght as a character imo because while she certainly wasn´t of the oppinion that eveything would be alright after what Anakin did, in fact Lucas commented she would not have stayed his wife had she lived, she definitely could see he wasn´t in his right mind on Mustafar, so their marriage may have been over if Anakin followed her but she still cared enough for him to try to help him get back to his own senses, because she knew if she gave Anakin that opportunity, his own horror over what he did would be as strong as anything she could tell him and he would have directly taken matters into his own hands even if they meant his death and this opportunity is precisely what Luke presented to Vader in ROTJ, which lead to the biggest victory over the darkside in the series, so no Padme´s love and compassion for Anakin will never be flaws from my pov, just like Anakin only could find himself again because he was able to feel compassion again as Vader. Both are connected that way.

#padme amidala #anakin skywalker #star wars #anidala #love across the stars #I wish Lucas had asked another writer to help him with the dialogue so this become more clear in the movie.#my ramblings #pro padme #pro anakin #shmi skywalker #lars family #skywalker family #tusken massacre

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smytherines · 2 months

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Fuck it, here's an Owen Carvour dissertation

We don't have canon ages for Curt & Owen, but personally I headcanon Owen as being born in 1928, making him 29 when the banana incident happens. This leads to a lot of thoughts that are fascinating to me, because growing up in London during WWII could inform so much of his character.

Personally, I believe DMA's accent is much closer to Owen's natural accent. I think the Owen Carvour accent is something he puts on to make himself sound neutrally British while working abroad, because he grew up working class. RP is how most people (at least in the US) assume British people speak. This also works with the Texan agent mega headcanon, like they both have to put on an act to be spies, just like they have to put on an act with their relationship.

And class is really really important to how you conceptualize this character, because your experience of the war could be radically different depending on how much money you had. Food rationing began in 1940, which in this case would make Owen 12. Rationing isn't fully lifted until 1954.

At Elizabeth II's wedding in 1947, the palace made a big deal about how she was saving ration coupons for the material for her wedding- a full two years after WWII ended.

Here's WWII London:

This is the city Owen would've grown up in. This is a war zone. A city where food is tightly rationed, where sirens were constantly going off and you had to draw down the blackout curtains and go sleep in the tube station with bombs dropping constantly overhead:

If Owen were upper middle class, he might have had a shelter at home, some people did. But I imagine him sleeping in dark, cramped, noisy stations. And he learns to keep his cool. He starts to enjoy the danger because he has to to survive it.

Maybe he has lost loved ones to the bombings. Maybe one morning he comes home from the tube station and half of his house is in rubble on the ground. Maybe he's used to hand me down clothes and simple homemade toys and not having enough to eat. He's used to having nothing, having nobody. That's a headcanon a lot of folks have, and I think it makes a lot of sense for his character.

Even if Owen were one of the kids evacuated to the countryside, maybe that happens when he's 15 or so, it wasn't a Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe situation. For a lot of those kids they were leaving their parents behind in a war zone, sleeping in barns or basements, and most importantly working almost non-stop on British farms because all the regular farmhands were fighting.

I think, if this happened, Owen would be itching to go off and fight in the war. My personal headcanon is that he's an intelligent guy, and he figures out how to forge some basic paperwork to claim he is older than he actually is, so he can go fight in WWII.

But by some fluke he couldn't account for, he gets discovered. And because of his skill and his ability to keep his cool under interrogation, he gets recruited to MI6. A lot of MI6 operatives are upper class men, recruited young from the top schools. He mimicks them.

I think many years later, when he and Curt are escaping a Russian weapons facility, Owen loves Curt and trusts in his capabilities (maybe a bit too much- especially when he's been drinking), but he also feels frustrated that Curt is impulsive and cocky and thinks he is untouchable.

Because Curt didn't grow up the way Owen did. He didn't grow up waiting for the bottom to fall out over and over again. He's certainly got his own shit from adolescence, but he doesn't have that survival impulse hardwired into him the way Owen does. So Owen is careful and cautious for the both of them, trying to keep them both safe and alive.

I think about Owen being trapped in the rubble a lot. He would almost certainly be critically injured. Maybe he has PTSD from the WWII bombings, and he's just trapped in an exploded building, trapped with his own memories of childhood until he's almost feral from it.

This also, btw, is why the AU of Owen as Eurydice from Hadestown is so so poignant to me. Someone who grew up cold and hungry and turned their collar to the world, and then suddenly they fall in love and everything is sunlight all around them. All I've Ever Known is such an important owen!Eurydice song to me

I could keep going from here, but I'll stop for now. This isn't as neat and concise as I wanted to present these thoughts, but I can't stop thinking them

#spies are forever #tin can bros #agent curt mega #owen carvour #curtwen #spytown #spytown renaissance #saf headcanon #saf #SAFtistic

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piratefalls · 4 months

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hi, yes, i'm still very behind on reading, but in my defense i picked up an actual book and did read that, so.

anyway, here's some fic.

masterlist.

(Secret) Santa Baby by indomitablelove

"When it comes to Secret Santa, Alex really does have a reputation to uphold. Everybody wants Alex to get them. Nobody actually wants to get Alex, which is why he usually ends up with novelty socks or a political biography, but he doesn’t care. Ultimately, everybody wants Alex to get their name. And right now, Alex is seconds away from finding out who his new mark is. The person that he’s going to spend the next few weeks learning inside and out to ensure that he gets them the perfect gift." --- Alex gets his work nemesis, Henry, in the office Secret Santa and realises that he doesn't know nearly as much about him as he thought...

Creative Differences by @sparklepocalypse

Zahra tilts her head at him, a contemplative expression on her face. “How attached are you to the notion of being a solo artist?” (AU; Alex is a failed solo musician and Henry's band needs a lead singer.)

just a figure of speech by congee4lunch

“Like I said: Alphas really don’t know how to fuck.” “And like I said,” Alex sets down his mug and steps closer to Henry. “I can fuck and I know how to fuck you so well, you’ll see stars, baby.” henry, an omega, hasn’t had good sex in a long time. as his alpha roommate and friend, alex can help with that. in a totally platonic bro way, of course.

Oxford Days by @myheartalivewrites

"Alex’s new roommate is kind of a slut. No. Strike that. Not kind of. Definitely. Definitely a slut." -- An ode to slutty Henry.

we play all day (and spread holiday cheer) by headabovethewater

Nora guffaws. “You fucked Santa’s Elf?!” “I mean,” Alex pauses and shrugs, “not with the costume on, obviously.” “I can’t fucking believe you,” Nora exclaims, her hands cupping her own face in disbelief. She looks over Alex’s shoulder and cocks an eyebrow, before she lowers her hands and her tone, and asks, “Since when do you have a thing for blondes?”

miles to go, but we're almost home by anincompletelist

Texas is a bit of a last minute decision. As in, at the actual last minute, Henry had begged them at the station for whatever ticket they had left to get out of the city, shoved his credit card at them expeditiously, and promptly boarded the vessel just as the doors slid closed behind him. Turns out it’s the best decision he’s ever made.

If at first you don't succeed by clottedcreamfudge

"Probably straight," Alex says, holding his hand out to Henry, "but you're extremely hot, so like - well done." "Well done?" Henry asks incredulously, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smile as he takes Alex's hand in a firm handshake. "Well done on... being extremely hot?" "Hey, man," Alex says easily, taking his hand away after the briefest of shakes. "Take it or leave it." "In that case, I shall update my profile," Henry says as he gets to his feet. "Unsuccessful date with a heterosexual man who, nonetheless, had to admit I was 'extremely hot'."

his soft touch by viciouslyqueer

Alex comes homes and Henry immediately knows something is wrong.

Nocturnal Guilt by somuchworse

Henry hums, and Alex feels the vibration of it more than actually hearing the delicate sound. “What did you do, love?” “I stole Liam’s medication,” he grumbles. The room is still for a moment. “Tonight?” Henry asks, voice sliding into a slightly higher pitch, a memorable indication of his most genuine confusion. Alex groans. Talking is hard. “No,” he says, when Henry applies a little more pressure on the back of his head, like it’s a reward. “When we were kids. I stole a few so I could work on school shit, and he had a total meltdown when a few were missing, and I didn’t even tell him. I’m literally the fucking worst.”

Bukkake Breaky Heart by @kiwiana-writes

Six men surround Alex in a semicircle: blindfolded, tested, NDA’ed to within an inch of their lives even without any idea of who is in the room with them. Alex has a fantasy. Henry makes it happen.

Going Once, Going Twice by allmylovesatonce

“I was supposed to go to this Christmas fundraiser for the NYU symphony,” she explains, “but there’s this event at work that as an intern I really can’t miss.” “What’s the favour?” June grimaces. “I need you to go to the symphony fundraiser for me.” Alex stills. There’s one reason June would be going to something for the symphony. Henry fucking Fox. He’s going to hope that her favour doesn’t involve him, but Alex figures he can’t really be that lucky. -------- Alex wins a date with Henry, but in order to even slightly enjoy it, he'll have to get over his hatred for him.

it's all me (just don't go) by weather_stained

Alex has been trying all summer to manage his grueling internship and other commitments without impacting his relationship with Henry. When he misses a date night, he worries it could be the last straw.

if evil, why so cute? by everwitch

Alex’s cat hates Alex, but loves Henry, the Bookstagram influencer who’s on vacation in Alex’s quiet seaside town. And while Alex is pretty salty about his grumpy cat’s inexplicable affection for a complete stranger, he must admit he can see the appeal; Henry is fucking gorgeous. It’s why Alex follows him on Instagram in the first place. It's just, Alex had never thought he’d be officially introduced to Henry by his own goddamn cat. Or: Henry takes a two-week vacation to a seaside cabin with the intent to read a lot of books. Instead, he has a lot of sex.

Jumped the Gun by lovelythething

"Well,” Henry says, measuring his voice carefully, “there’s a first time for everything.” Alex, in reply, screams into a pillow.

secret moments in a crowded room by HypnosTherapy

Henry smiles, something settling in his expression when he sees Alex. “Hello, darling-” “I felt up your employee,” Alex says, the words rushing out of his mouth. Henry blinks. “I thought Angus was you, and I grabbed him by the hips, and it was weird as shit, I’m sorry.” Henry has the nerve to smirk, rolling his eyes. “He really is an excellent double,” he says, reaching out to pat Alex consolingly on the shoulder. __ After getting a concerned call from the man's PPO, Henry makes an effort to ensure his body double Angus is getting properly socialized. Alex is hesitant to spend time with the Henry-shaped clone, but he quickly finds himself getting charmed by the man. Angus gracefully slides from strange phenomenon to friend. And then something more.

it's you (it's always been you) by coffeecatsme

“You mean to tell me you named your vibrator after another man because you thought the pun would be funny?” Alex names his vibrator after Han Solo and Henry gets jealous.

come pick me up by smc_27

‘I’m here for you’ He can tell that the person will receive that as a text message as well as in the app, which is a relief because sometimes people like, order rides then absolutely pay no fucking attention to the app. It’s really annoying to have to wait forever for folks. ’Thank you. I’m going through a difficult time currently, so this means a lot.’ Alex stares at the message he received, frowning, and then another comes through. ‘Apologies. I’ve lost all my contacts. Who is this?’ Oh, Christ. This is going to be awkward as fuck. ’This is your Uber driver. I’m outside.’ OR, Alex is an Uber driver. Henry needs a ride the airport.

titles are the worst, we refuse by athousandrooms, clottedcreamfudge, everwitch, indomitablelove, railmedaddy

The paparazzi, a friend, their classmates, a true enemy. Alex is no stranger to telling people to fuck off, it’s a daily occurrence; but when it’s Henry who does it? Alex couldn’t be prouder. — 5 times Alex tells someone to fuck off and one time Henry does.

Gym Buddies by cmere

"I'm Henry," the guy offers. Alex pushes up one rep, then another. The blood is rushing to his face as he powers through more, and seems to be rushing elsewhere as well, because there's undeniable arousal pooling in his groin from the exertion. He struggles slightly for a moment, then, and instead of taking over like Alex expects, his new best friend Henry starts—talking. "That's good, so good. Perfect, can you give me another?" Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sweat pours down Alex's forehead as he pushes the bar back up off his chest. "Beautiful, just beautiful. So good for me. There you are, love." Henry helps Alex settle the bar back on the rack, and Alex exhales in a rush, his heart thudding almost painfully against his chest. Fuck. PUMP Gym is notorious for gay guys cruising, and Alex wants to hook up.

To Show Our Love by bleedingballroomfloor

With Henry and Alex in the midst of moving into their new home together, Henry reflects on Valentine's Day and what the holiday meant to him growing up closeted in the palace, and more so, the new meaning that Alex brings to it.

Cosmos in His Palms by AnchoredArchangel

“I’ve been thinking,” Henry says quietly, “almost constantly, about your list.” Alex blinks because, well, his list hasn’t had this kind of traction in years. The Google trend must be spiking off the charts. Henry bites at his own lower lip, turning the blush pink a tortured white, admits, “About the things you want to do-” Oh. That list. Or: Alex discovers that talking to Henry is just as nice as having sex with him, or at least, pretty close. A perfectly timed revelation when he finds himself in desperate need of a heart-to-heart.

Fox. Henry Fox. by Pondermoniums

Alex had seen the guy around campus, sure. He was hard to miss, but Alex never said out loud why. For everyone else, being the son of the famous James Bond actor made him a celebrity enough. But for Alex, Henry Fox just…stood out.

wanting by rizcriz

It slammed into him with the force of a semi truck out of the blue on a random Tuesday in July. the AC was out; they were sprawled out in the living room in nothing but their boxers, complaining about the heat and threatening to off their landlord in a million different ways. Alex was on the floor, Henry was on the couch, one leg draped over the back, his arms thrown up over his head. Henry had said something; something absurd and hilarious and Alex can’t for the life of him remember what it was, because all he remembers is lifting his head off the floor, and catching sight of that shining head of golden hair caught in a sunbeam and thinking— And thinking. God, I love him.

you all over me by stutteringpeach

When Henry organises an evening of group sex, he never expects to meet a gorgeous man he wants to marry and have children with. Or, a meet-cute at a sex club.

tripped and fell into this bed by @priincebutt

“What, hate sex with my ex who chose his duty to his country over me? I’m not interested.” “Are you sure about that?” Henry’s voice is curious, genuine and raw, because he can hear the hesitation behind Alex’s words, the way his sentence structure is crumbling with wanting to say yes. It hasn’t been long enough for Alex to be moved on, and Henry doesn’t know if he wants Alex back, or if he just wants to have some really fucking good sex, which he’s not had since the last time he’d been with Alex. It had been a bold move, but he doesn’t regret it. And he internally cheers when Alex lets out another dramatic sigh. “Fine. Where are you staying and when should I meet you?” Or, Henry broke up with Alex when he stormed the castle, then booty calls him months later at Paris Fashion Week.

if you want me to tag you in future lists for whatever reason, just let me know, and i'll see you next week!

@starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels

#rwrb rec list #rwrb #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfiction #firstprince #firstprince fanfic #red white and royal blue #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor

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inlocusmads · 1 month

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office shenanigans ft. the ginovesi crew:

everyone needs to have their own space but their stuff bleeds over everywhere. ruby has an assortment of forensic journals on nora's desk, luke has a crap ton of microcontrollers hidden in a drawer, trystan ends up doing most of his embassy work there, so he's got like stacks of old mail, printed copies of minutes of meetings and tons of old newspapers piling up in a corner

takeout menus stuck on the bulletin board that is almost never used

broken coffee pot with a half-empty box of instant coffee nobody thinks to refill

lots and lots and lots of charging cables that someone at least trips over it thrice a day

tasteful basketball hoops installed inside the office for some brainstorming action. the windows are kept wide open because collectively everyone has broken or chipped the glass at least once leading to them deciding "maybe we can have the window open" only to have their basketballs yoink off into the street and someone running onto oncoming traffic to fetch it (they never address this issue)

everyone having at least *one* stimulating thing to keep them happy through the day. trystan has several pages of crosswords, nora constantly having to charge her phone (trip over the cables) because she keeps playing online sudoku on company time, ruby has a shelf full of forgotten arts and crafts projects, luke has an impressive collection of headphones and fidget spinners to avoid entertaining a single thought in his head.

mafalda's office being spared from the disaster because she keeps it under lock and key

them trying to break said lock because she has a giant computer screen optimal for watching movies

them unsuccessfully attempting that because mafalda has a bunch of alarms and also because she ends up catching them in the act marathoning the lotr trilogy (upon luke's request)

a coat rack that isn't used for hanging coats and instead acts as a pole to tie up a clothesline to hang important pictures relevant to their cases (sticking it to the wall ends up chipping off parts of the paint and they had to learn it the hard way)

them spending more time in sam's coffee shop down the street than at the agency and single-handedly helping her fund her college studies

silver the dog being a menace to society and them having to build a corner for her but she ends up chewing on the pencils anyway

a closet that was meant to hold boxes of archives, spare clothes and old furniture being an optimal place to nap (they're always sleep deprived) to the point where luke ends up throwing towels, stealing the bedsheets and pillows so nobody takes his place.

ruby regularly visiting the agency for lunch - not because she cares for her friends but she wants to get to the closet before anyone else can

them trying to break through a case literally like - nora laid down on the floor with her laptop balancing on her knees, going through information; trystan on nora's chair, playing tetris on her phone, luke sitting on his desk because he just cannot with the chairs and ruby joining them hours and hours later with sustenance and moral support ("the fuck is wrong with you guys")

luke stealing nora's sheets of papers

nora stealing ruby's stationery

trystan pocketing luke's assortment of pens (nora's pens) not on purpose, but he just forgets to put it back and carries it home in his pocket.

ruby making several provision runs while visiting the guys from her lab, just taking commonplace books and highlighters, promising to return it back and never doing it (which eventually gets stolen by nora)

wars fought over who gets their turn on the printer before trystan just goes "f it" and is prepared to drive 20 minutes to the nearest copy shop. nora having to change her printer's password, only for luke to crack it in 10 seconds

nearly killing each other over frustrations over the slow internet and everyone unanimously blaming luke

the office becoming a giant dumpyard for them to get trinkets from home and leaving it there (luke's nerf gun that he brought out as a joke, keeps gathering dust; ruby leaving tote bags everywhere, a drawer specifically in trystan's name to keep all of his jewelry and nora getting packs and packs of sunflower seeds as a snack but forgetting it and now she has a box full of expired snacks; even mafalda to an extent with forgotten water bottles, mason jars etc)

#anyway i love them lol #send me some asks about them! no pressure obvs!#thorne rose headcanons #the ginovesi agency

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discordiansamba · 5 months

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Keith's father died when he was eight.

It became quickly apparent that none of his father's extended family wanted anything to do with him. Nobody ever said it to his face, but he definitely heard the whispers- he'd always had sharp ears.

They said he wasn't his father's son.

That had to be a lie, Keith knew. His dad loved him. Even when he got into a fight with another kid at school, he'd always just calmly listen to him. He got mad at him sometimes- like when he touched his mom's knife without permission, but that was just because he was worried he'd hurt himself. He could talk to him about anything, and at least with his dad, he wasn't the weird kid who kept breaking things.

Then his dad was gone, and that was all anyone ever believed about him. That he was weird- temperamental and aggressive, too prone to violence, like his fight or flight response was just a fight response. He was the discipline case. The problem child. No one expected him to be anything else, so he didn't try to be.

He met Takashi Shirogane at ten.

He was like him- a foster kid. But unlike Keith, people wanted Shiro. He felt like everything Keith wasn't- good natured and easy to get along with, bright with a promising future. They ended up in the same foster home together, and the difference between the two couldn't be clearer.

But for whatever reason, Shiro didn't see Keith the way everyone else saw him. He saw him more like his father had. He paid attention to him, often standing up for him- when he talked, Shiro would listen. He didn't care for his foster parents much, but Shiro... Shiro felt like a brother, almost.

But nothing good lasted forever. Shiro aged out of the system and went off to college, studying to be a pilot. Keith was left behind. He stuck it out for another few years, until he turned fifteen and just left. He found his way back to his old home, still standing out in the desert. He hung around there for a few weeks, before stumbling across something unexpected-

-a photograph of his mother.

He knew it had to be. She looked almost exactly like him. On the back of the photo there was a name and an address, written in unfamiliar hand. It was the first lead he'd had on her in years.

So what else could he do but go check it out?

#assassin au #shiro to his credit definitely kept up contact with keith even after he went to college #keith's own attempts at keeping up with Shiro were... spotty at best #he just assumed he'd forget about him now that they weren't still living together #you fool. you are so wrong

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teeth--thief · 2 months

Note

Photos of Lyonyd (Leonid?…) Toptunov? I wouldn’t mind rambling on him, also.

- Rodka

I deliberately saved this ask for last (sort of). As a treat for myself and as a threat for everyone else ♡ And for @ur-favorite-basil-enthusiast since he was also interested in seeing The Collection.

I'll have to split this into a few parts - dreaful, I know! - because I can only add 10 pictures to one post while on mobile =( I'll keep reblogging with additional pictures till I run out of things to share. Subscribe for more insane content in the future and don't forget to click that bell icon to...

Part 1

He had manifested to me in a dream when I first started researching Chernobyl, have I ever mentioned that? Well, he has. Which was truly an anomaly because I almost never have any dreams at all... but about that some other time, perhaps.

I am going to put the pictures of him under the cut so nobody gets jumpscared by my Collection of Five Billion White Guy Pictures. And I'll also include some relevant information! Or as relevant as I can make it, at least.

Just to be clear (and safe): I found all of these out in the wild, on da internet. I am, however, pretty sure that at least the collage of his pics from uni times is from @/toptunovleonid on Instagram. So, just to be very clear: all credit for at least that goes to her.

Semi-chronologically, his pictures go like this:

Ignoring that one picture that is barely visible and out of frame in a few pictures of the photo album it's in, because he looks about 10 there and I feel slightly weird about sharing it specifically.

We're in... Tallinn, middle school number 11!

Second boy from the left in the second picture is him. That is he. He who was 15 then. And a 16 year old Lyonya in the left picture, of course.

From this time, one of his classmates remembers him as follows: At school he was quiet, unnoticeable, very shy. I remember he was always hanging out with younger kids. He was chubby. They'd now say he was a "nerd". Alright, we get it, he was a sweet child... Teen? Both? Or was he like this all his life? Either way, please stop before I die from all that sugar...

He's (10th grade) the guy leading the little girl (1st grade). His shapeless hair has charmed me. What's his hair routine and will it work on my curls? Mhm, didn't think so. And first in the second row from the bottom in the small pictures, in case you can't recognise his face yet.

As a bonus - his school certificate from the school in Tallinn he attended until graduating in 1977:

The grades were from 2 (you didn't pass with that one, so that's an F) to 5 (an A, I suppose?). So as you can see, he certainly studied well. What a nerd (affectionately).

Uni territory now! Moscow calling 📞 or, rather, Obninsk and the MEPhI

If you weren't born in any of the USSR countries during The Soviet Times, it'll come as a surprise to you but the students had mandatory... field... work... classes...? if you can call them that. They had them digging potatoes and what not. Nothing screams socialist spirit like making uni students do free labour in the field, I guess?

Pictures with his uni girlfriend, how cuuute! (And Sasha Korol hanging from the roof in the background... for reasons unknown)

Lyonya pretending to drive a combine harvester. And next to him, obviously, Sasha Korol. When I first saw this picture, I thought he was on some kind of a scaffolding but alas - it's one of those old beasts, like our Bizon. But that's not a Bizon because those had roofs. Nobody here cares for USSR combines talk - not even me - let's move on.

Not too sure when these two are from but they look uni enough to me - probably from the very beginning and sometime closer to the end, judging by his stache doing significantly better...

Mandatory military service because a REAL MAN in the USSR needed to know how to shoot a gun, obviously. Even when that meant military service interrupted your uni for a short while. I say that as if no other countries before or after had mandatory army time... don't question it, I'm doing a bit.

Lyonya is second in top row in the picture on the left and third from the left in the top row in the other pic. Korol is there, too, he's fourth from the left in the top row in the first picture and second from the right in the bottom row in the other picture.

#I'll leave my particularly unhinged comments for later pictures. just you wait. wait and quiver in fear #leonid toptunov #file: special interest: chernobyl #chernobyl #file: ask!#asker: rodka

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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snowangeldotmp3 · 2 years

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so in Rebel Robin, though it’s focused on Robin and acknowledges the weird things that happen in Hawkins (will and barb’s disappearances, respectively), the author, A.R. Capetta, does a really good job of building Hawkins. and by building Hawkins, i mean they make it very clear that it could’ve been Robin.

in chapter fifteen of the book, November 6th, 1983, Robin is at her friend Milton’s house. They’re hanging out, watching MTV, eating dinner, etc. Robin has to go home at some point, and her only mode of transportation is a bike. Here is the scene where she bikes home.

“...There’s a rustle in the undergrowth at the side of the road. I try to ignore it. I do whatever I can to keep the strange skittering sound from sending nervous flicks of fear across my skin. I ride faster, my wheels now blazing a straight arrow down the road. I hum a little bit of the first song I can find in my head, “Hungry Like the Wolf,” but the rustle seems to get louder in response. I shout the lyrics at the top of my lungs.” (pg 120.) “Headlights pierce the night behind me, and the rustling goes quiet as a car passes. Right when I let myself believe it’s gone, it comes back. Louder. Closer. There’s another sound beneath it, soft and pulsing. Something like blood rushing through a heart or breath dragged up a windpipe. I pull onto my street and by the time I drop my bike in the driveway, I'm running scared and I don't care who knows it. I sprint to the door--thank God it's unlocked--slam it shut, twist the lock behind me, and push my back against the solid wood." (pg. 121.) "...I pick it up, hoping for a voice. Any voice. I hear a second of hard breathing and I think that whatever just happened to me is happening to someone else in Hawkins." (pg. 121-122.)

After this, the power goes out, starting with the Byers' house (as we've seen in the show), and then Robin's goes out fairly quickly after her experience (which leads me to believe that she doesn't live that far from Will. Especially since it seems like the Demogorgon was trailing after her, too.) You could replace Robin in some of these scenes with Will, and it would read almost exactly the same as Will's disappearance. It got me thinking, though, and there are two ways that this train of thought has taken me, and now you all have to hear about it.

The first train of thought is this: What if Robin had been taken instead of Will? What would that look like? Who would search for her? she's not friends with Steve or Nancy or Jonathan at this point. (in fact, she actively resents two of these people.) Besides Milton and maybe Kate, I doubt her friends would've searched for her. Dash is a mix of Tommy H and season 1 Steve, and his control over Kate is reminiscent of Steve and Nancy. (which is the point, i know.) but in this case, Barb still would've disappeared, meaning that Nancy still had to search for Barb and fight some Demogorgons. I doubt her parents would've done too much, as she states that they "don't believe in worrying." Not only that, but her parents have admitted to her that she was an accident, "My parents had me by accident (nobody gets pregnant in a VW van on purpose)..." (pg. 40.) and she's described by her parents as "not a hard child to raise" and through several scenes in the book Robin indicates that she's practically raised herself, her parents are nothing short of neglectful, only parenting when they absolutely have to. But this question haunts me because it's one that changes the trajectory of the whole show. because if this is the case, does Nancy still find Jonathan? do they really go fight the Demogorgon together? do they go searching for Barb and then find Eleven? what then of Robin? Do they go in search of Barb, only to find a dead Barb and a barely alive Robin? and what about Hopper and Joyce? Furthermore, what would happen in a season 2 situation with the Mind Flayer? Who would be there to notice if she was acting differently--possessed by the Mind Flayer? certainly not her parents.

what this train of thought proves to me is that, at least, in the first two seasons, could not progress without a character like Joyce because her worry and love for her son drive her to the actions that put this plot in motion. If Joyce had acted anything like Robin's parents, the story would have fallen apart.

The second train of thought (and a much more fun train one) is this: What if the Demogorgon got both Will and Robin? They both disappear into the Upside Down, trying to survive. I figure that Robin would do what she can to protect both of them, considering that when she first meets Will, the first thing she wants to do is to comfort him and tell him that life gets better, but the second thing she wishes she could do is to run away from Hawkins. So now Hawkins has three missing kids; Will, Robin, and Barb. I imagine that much of the season would be the same. I would also imagine that Will and Robin traversing the Upside Down would've been a great dynamic to see. Perhaps it's Robin who's trying to contact Joyce through the phone or figures out that the lights can send messages through the Upside Down--prompting Will to send his messages to Joyce. When Eleven has to find them in the sensory deprivation, she finds them and tells Joyce and Hopper that there's someone there with Will, hiding the both of them from the Demogorgon. When Joyce and Hopper finally find Will, they find Robin there too, barely alive but Hopper grabs her as well and they make it out. I would assume that Joyce would thank Robin profusely for keeping an eye on Will and that Robin would practically be adopted by Joyce.

I'd also like to think season 2 would've been wayyy different. The Mind Flayer takes one of them or the other (or both) and opens a whole new world of possibilities.

Sorry, this post got out of hand; I was skimming Rebel Robin and didn't notice this until I skimmed it. Anyways, feel free to add to this post, I came across this in the book and knew i had to talk about it lol!

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angled-blade · 1 year

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Your Embrace.

Pairing(s): Jason Voorhees/Reader

Warning(s): Implied mention of violence and murder.

Additional: 7,047 words. Written in 2nd POV [You/Your]. Storyline is set after the events of Friday the 13th Part VI: Jason Lives (1986).

You sat yourself by the edge of the bridge, seeming to soak up the warmth from the sun’s rays. When he felt that there were intruders who stepped into his home, he would have expected a group of rowdy teenagers or sexually frustrated young adults swarming his territory as they have done many a times before.

Jason didn’t know what to make of it, seeing how it was unlike anything that he had handled prior.

He took many of his own experiences into account. He recalled how there had been many who would arrive together, and disperse one by one, spurred on by disgracing the woods by giving into their desires through adultery and substance abuse.

Now being met with this new scenario, it had Jason unsure of how he should be approaching the matter.

You were the only person he had detected and seen so far, your features were ordinary to him. Jason presumed that he had seen almost everything appearance wise, with people in a variety of styles degrading the ground of nature that he had grown to care for. No matter who appeared, Jason was sure of ensuring their deaths no matter how far they attempt to stop him—he believed in consequences, after all.

Consequences struck the woman who laid her hand onto his dear mother, in which Jason made quick work of her with the ice pick that he found in one of the drawers of her home. It played out as how she used the machete belonging to the camp to commit her crime, though this time around his mother’s head watched on as he wrung out his consequence against that woman.

Consequences struck the counselors when they attempted to reopen Camp Crystal Lake, as if they wanted to see a repeat incident of what had already happened to him—which infuriated him to no end. He got to work murdering them off, in his way of killing the chances of allowing the camp to reopen.

Consequences struck the man who thought of a cheap attempt at revenge, the lightning revitalising him to be alive no matter how much they attempted to take him down. With his being now impenetrable, the killings frequented far more often than anyone could have expected. With little to no leads—with an embarrassing speculation concocted by the public of an undead killer linked to a death back in the day—the authorities had to put their foot down some way or another. They closed off the camp from the general public for good—which in turn put a stop to the murders entirely, much to the relief of the already overwhelmed police department that handled the Crystal Lake cases.

Jason took the news positively, feeling at peace with the decreased number of unwanted visitors. Are you proud of me, mother? Nobody will get hurt again. It’s just like how you wanted. There had been no reason for him to eat or drink, leaving the undead man to work on a calmer routine, tending to the home he had protected ever so fervently. The greenery was maintained—gorgeous flowers of variety blooming amongst the shrubbery, the sight of flora alluring to the eye. The animals seemed to take a liking to him, the birds who usually actively avoided him whenever his presence made itself known in the forest got used to him—some even perching themselves on his shoulders on days whenever he was taking a moment of rest. All appeared to be well, allowing Jason to relax for the very first time in a long while. That was until you appeared.

Jason supposed that it had been a few months or so after the camp’s announced closure from the people that he had found you.

Jason gradually accepted the fact that you came in alone, without anybody else following after.

You were difficult to find in the forest, which was unanticipated. You wore clothing that was fitting for the terrain—with as little skin as possible showing through, save for your hands. He assumed that he had been lucky to even catch a glimpse of this silent trespasser, seeing how you appeared to blend in with the environment—making you even harder to detect in the forest. Despite that, Jason had found little reason to take action, seeing how you did not make your presence permanent in his territory by settling in one of the vacant cabins or, God forbid, dirty the scenery with the processed items that those before you littered about—he immediately recalled a time where he had to clear aside the beer cans that were strewn about from the last group of trespassers that he had to handle. There were no authorities checking in the forest afterwards—perhaps he did them a favour, ridding the people who seemed to be forgettable and dislikable by society. Though, the officers did not do their due diligence in clearing the litter—making Jason unsure about their credibility as well.

You seemed to not fall under those categories between memorable and forgettable, but you made sure to leave before dark—as if you had someone waiting for you, similar to his Mother. Even after the date of his assumed death, she kept coming back and embarked on her extended revenge against the counselors and camp organisers. She was noble in his eyes, her motives being one that was admirable to prevent the many other lives of little children to succumb to the same fate that Jason did. He didn’t know how else to describe the bottled rage he had that broke in a matter of seconds when he witnessed the death of his mother—and by the time he returned to his senses with some sort of composure, his hands had already been stained with red.

Some of the blood remained on him from that day, no matter how much Jason wished to scrub the memories away. Jason knew that he had to face them head-on as a means to keep his mother in memory, and to cherish the memories that he had made with her during the short life he was subjected to.

He supposed that you were in the same boat, yet you were more fortunate than him. You followed a routine as he did, making sure to leave the forest undisturbed as much as possible as you drove back to wherever it was that you came from.

Your car was now in the distance as Jason stood on the center of the road, memorising the shape and number of your licence plate. Sure, it was a little difficult at first, though, he made sure to commit the numbers to memory. He thought of remembering it as an easier way to pin consequences on your name if your presence slowly brought along unwanted company—especially those who would ruin the peace that Jason had painstakingly curated at Crystal Lake. You were only an afterthought to him.

That was the only reason for it, he’s sure of it.

—

You didn’t know what it was about Crystal Lake. The fact that it had been thriving without human contact, or the fact that you found comfort in a place that had been prohibited by the cops. You snuck in either way, seeing the place as a quick getaway from everything that stressed and irritated you.

You’ve heard of the rumours that surrounded the camp, many that plagued the lake that was situated at the bridge you made yourself comfortable on. The name was not as exaggerated, seeing how the crystal clear waters in its lowest tide, slow waves moving along as the sun began to set in the horizon.

Nobody had anything bad to say about the place itself, only the incidents that occurred in it, tainting the beautiful image that the camp promised. That was why the location was regarded in infamy, any operation running closing down soon to prevent any additional controversy.

That didn’t stop the rumours from spiraling out of control after the incidents.

What was that she said about Jason? That ‘he’s still there’ in that lake?

There were a lot of people to blame for the way the previous camps were held. You always recalled the nightly horror story of the boy that was to blame for the killings—a pretext for all these murders to take place and in the manner in which copied Pamela Voorhees. She was the mother of that boy who drowned, if you recall correctly, and had been the only killer known and identified by the police to be responsible for a good handful of the massacres prior to 1979.

The whispers from town were hushed yet borderline tone deaf as they spoke about the cases. You initially watched as the elders gently attempted to silence any talk of Camp Crystal, but you were quick to find out that they were their own gossip mongers—both loud and loquacious as they spoke of Jason Voorhees. They didn’t have a problem insulting his appearance despite it being quite possible that the boy they speak of could be deceased for all they knew.

Mrs. Voorhees had been an ‘old friend’ of the camp organiser who tried to reopen Camp Crystal Lake back in 1979. She had also been killed by one of the girls who was the sole survivor of the massacre.

Rumour has it that Jason watched his mother die that night. They never recovered his body back in ’57, didn’t they?

Though, nobody has heard from Alice ever since she left.

Rumour has it that she met her demise after leaving. Nobody knew for sure, but they sure as hell were confident to speculate what was made of the girl.

You’ve come to realise that despite the horrible tragedies that took place, people were not at all shy in sharing their opinions and theories about the Voorhees which—in your opinion—was a contemptuous choice made by them to kick an already dead horse. In your perspective, the murders were one of passion. Did she even receive assistance after the news of her son’s death? Was she only an afterthought for the people to mock and refer to as the mother of a disgrace?

Could that not be a reason for her rampage, that she did not receive help? You wanted to ask, but you kept quiet.

You learnt as you passed through the buzz about Camp Crystal, the story of Jason Voorhees was no longer a cautionary tale—one that spoke of an easily preventable incident due to the irresponsibility of guardians who decided to keep an eye on one another rather than on the children that were on camp.

The tale of Jason Voorhees had been reduced, one may even say degraded into a mere old folk’s tale—one for cheap horror, similar to buying into a pathetic novelty to experience a short thrill. It was now only just a story, a word of mouth akin to the stripping of the tree bark from its trunk—marketing the tale once cautionary into something theatrical—a surface-level one, for that matter. Jason Voorhees was no longer seen as a victim, never was he even referred to as one either in the past when it happened. He was only a simple name that just so happened to be the drowned boy of Mrs. Voorhees, with his death being the straw that broke her psyche. He was an afterthought, just as much as she was.

It was.. shameless.

To add further insult to his name, the residents who lived in the town dare not to even think more about Jason, save for his name and his features—each physical description of him they personally added with flair concocted with the idea of something monstrous and unimaginable.

A freak of Nature. You recall hearing one of the elderly say.

And yet, here you were, in the very place that the supposed monster monopolised as his territory, as much as it was his domain.

You initially came to the forest feeling braver than you were, as if the desire to prove yourself of something—a matter that did not necessarily involve the legend.

A multitude of reasons came to you to be used as the framework for your decision to visit the location, but not one of them appeared concrete enough for you to hold onto as a legitimate belief.

You could have been getting away from something, or someone. Perhaps you took the route of coping with yourself in silence, and the other was tempted to even lose the life you were having—during the off-chance that the murderer remained in the woods of Crystal Lake. Though the thought was only in passing, one that dissipated as soon as it materialised.

You couldn’t bring yourself to assume the identity of the killer as Jason Voorhees. From what you’ve heard, his name resurfaced just above the raging waters with agitated and irate relatives and friends pointing their fingers at him, blaming his curse of Crystal Lake being the argument for the lives that had been taken. Their reason for doing so? They believed in the idea, one that had Jason Voorhees reanimated into the form of an undead man, living through what no-one could even imagine. Even if their claims held any merit, it appeared that the bullying didn’t stop at his death from long ago.

He became something to be feared and yet, mocked so freely and equally.

You only saw him as a person curated from a series of unfortunate events. You didn’t fear Jason and the ideas that surrounded him. Not one bit.

That was why you came to visit Crystal Lake.

You found that the reputation of the area, paired with its prohibited access by the law enforcement, had made Crystal Lake charming in a peculiar way. It made the wooded area something close to one being off the beaten path—a hidden gem that had been locked aside by the authorities to put a halt to the massacres committed. They were successful on the latter.

Maybe, just maybe, you were curious to know of the murderer who hid in the woods. The one responsible for the crimes, seemingly honouring the death of Mrs. Voorhees, and who had yet to be identified by the police.

The one that got away.

You supposed that you went off track once you stepped foot into the forest. The agenda you held out had been quickly snuffed, similarly to an already melted candle on its last few centimetres of wax—the image mirroring your restraint in the environment you placed yourself in.

You’ve always had a close relationship with nature, after all. You couldn’t help but immerse yourself into the wooded areas, being the environment’s very own spectator—watching life move along, until your attention had returned onto the time on your watch. By the time you had adjusted yourself fully in the environment, evening would have arrived. It was especially noticeable with the sunsets that rested a little above the trees, a deep maroon taking over the sky before a gentle wash of blues and purples as day began to transition into night.

You left before it got that late, but you made sure to keep returning to Crystal Lake as much as you possibly could.

Your visits were almost weekly, and soon enough, you seemed to reestablish a newer reason to keep visiting the location, having discarded the previous idea of venturing into the area with a hint of curiosity and the slightest tinges of expectation.

You returned to Crystal Lake with zero expectations, embracing the flora and little fauna that were brave enough to interact with you. Whenever the time came for you to return home, you found that the hollowed feeling of desire no longer bubbles against your oesophagus. Your curiosity appeared far less prominent as you left satisfied.

Others chose to see Jason and the memory of him smeared across the sign. You chose to see the nature as it was on its own, appreciating it quietly on the sidelines. You supposed that the peace had left the forest unshaken by any interference from people—you saw the photos of it before, it really seemed that nature took over once access to the location had been barred from the prying eyes of the public.

You brought along a small, portable camera to take multiple pictures to bring back home with you. Most of them were the lake, though some were focused on animals and even parts of the cabins that had been previously so full of life. One could already see that these cabins had people living in it, with all the paraphernalia that had been left behind by the people who died. It seemed as though those very same relatives didn’t have the heart to retrieve the last few memories that could be repurposed to mourn for them in memory. Nobody ever told the public what they did with the suitcases and backpacks the counselors came with, you assumed the authorities threw them away to avoid anybody stumbling upon them.

And now, here you were, seated on the edge of the bridge. Your feet lightly brushed against the slow current of the lake. Your footwear was somewhere back at the entrance to the bridge, not wanting them to be dirtied let alone sink into the bottom of the waters no matter how clear it was.

You thought of the fact that this was the very same waters that Jason drowned in. What would he see in the water? Would it be similar to a fear, or was it indifference?

Your toes dipped into the water, moving them against the current. You watched the ripples made by it, another thought greeting you now.

Would he have pictured a monster swallowing him whole when he sank below the surface?

It was a morbid thought, but one that you had that fed into the curiosity that you had about the Voorhees.

Just who were you, Jason? What was Mrs. Voorhees like, to have her maternal love run as deeply as she had for you?

You felt pity for the boy, but something must have happened—there had to be more to the story of him.

They never said how he had been drowned. All you knew was that he drowned and that was all the elderly residents shared about him. Any more questions about him would only devolve into them talking about his appearance.

That was the main reason you chose to be cautious in the forest you were walking through. You knew that after his death, the least you could do was dignify and uphold his name with the life that he lived. That was why you chose to trudge along Crystal Lake with a mindset of respect that you hoped would be reciprocated in one way or the other. As much as you’d like to treat the woods as something you knew for yourself, perhaps even as a companion of convenience as it only listens—the woods are an acquaintance that you should hold out arms length away at best. You made sure to remain friendly, yet keep a distance away from uncharted and sectioned off areas that led to dead-ends. You couldn’t help it, and there really was no harm for you to be careful in the end.

You grew more and more comfortable in Crystal Lake, holding onto the secret of your trespassing and shelving it to the very dark corner of your mind as you stuck to a routine of your own. You paid a visit to it every now and then, finding the bridge at the lake as the best spot for you to destress and escape from the bustling life back home.

They say those who enter these woods would die right after, though, you begged to differ with your personal experience. You found Crystal Lake relaxing.

Though, that was until you saw the tall figure of a man in the rear view mirror as you made your departure.

The image burned into your memory as you noted the physical characteristics of him, your perception of the lake was quickly amended to match one that was particularly unnerved with your findings. Who was that? Your heart made multiple somersaults, hitting itself against your ribcage as you high-tailed it home, your foot on the accelerator. You had just barely parked the vehicle, quickly retreating back into the comfort of your house with hands far too shaky.

Was that the murderer?

You couldn’t sleep that night or the other nights that followed.

You religiously read through the news reports—the articles that people before you had accessed out of mere curiosity, similar to how you were doing in your own attempt to find any description of a man who looked to be well over 6 foot and had clothing that matched the one that you encountered—but the information you found that pertained to it had only been one of speculation and was mainly gossip. Those that you found that supported your description were those that had also mentioned Jason, tying his name with the man in question. You couldn’t help but think it was wrong to think that that was the answer.

A single night turned into days until it had been a week of you being cooped up in your home, a few days past the date when you would usually visit Crystal Lake. You didn’t know for sure, but you were well aware of the fact that you were getting obsessed with the legend of Jason Voorhees—you were falling into your own curiosity again. That was the opposite of what you wanted to do, you were slowly ending up just like the rest of these folk who misinterpret the purpose of his story.

“I’m getting worried over nothing.” You whispered to yourself, chewing on your lip as you set the information away—making sure to shut the tabs that held the many forums you read through thoroughly.

“It’s either that I’m seeing things, or that I had quite literally missed a murderer that was right behind me.” You reasoned, moving toward your drawer that held the photographs taken at Crystal Lake, attempting to calm yourself. Think about the scenery, ignore the massacres that were tied to it—looking at the plants alone, one would have never thought it would have listened to such horrific crimes taking place. You knew you couldn’t bring up the man at Crystal Lake, knowing the authorities would ask you why was it that you were there in the first place. If it were from a spur of your own imagination, you could only imagine the frustration that it would bring to the police officers, and God knows what would happen to you. Your account would be one that held little to no merit, wasting their time in the process.

You’re overthinking this. A thought chastises you into a less panicked state.

How about this— Another one offers. —Why not see for yourself that the man is only a figment of your imagination?

You decided to sleep, your mind quelled for the first time in a long while. When tomorrow arrives, you’ll follow through with the idea.

If only you knew what was to come.

—

You were absent again. He wonders about what happened.

It was a quiet day for Jason. The birds were away for the time being, recalling them migrating for a short period of time. That meant that Jason was alone with his thoughts, leaving memories in wake. One slowly crept up behind him, before replaying itself before his very eyes.

A little boy sat at a bench doodling away on a piece of paper, a camp hat blocking any facial features if you were someone looking at him from afar. The bench was behind the mess hall, a discarded bench due to there being far too many markings engraved into the table top. It was secluded, just as how his mother wanted. Most of the reasons for her doing so was due to the negative reaction toward her boy.

Jason watched the scene play out, recalling that day vividly. He paused on his routine for now, which was him cutting a few flowers from the bushes. He had been growing them for a while, though it appeared that today had been bountiful—multiple of them now abundant amongst the shrubbery.

“Jason, I’ve brought you lunch!” The ever so familiar, delicate voice of his mother was what he picked up. She always held a particular tone with how she spoke, he realised as he set the pencil down. Each spoken sentence were said in a motherly coo, one that offered him comfort as she held out every item that she got ahold of for him to review and experience on his own. A smile formed on his face, one that had been kept hidden for only his mother to see. It was hard to not smile whenever he was with her, seeing how much effort she made to help the boy feel more comfortable.

How long had it been since he heard her voice? His undead heart clenched itself tightly, eyes now a pinpoint focus on her for the time being. The only voice he had heard was yours, though it held a bit of an exhausted tone whenever you spoke to yourself.

In her hands now were a tray of food. Jason readily accepted the meal, trusting his mother’s judgment as he began to eat.

As usual, his mother picked up the drawing to inspect it. It was a drawing of stickmen, one of him and the other was her. ‘Mommy and Me’ was written above the two, some of the letters seemingly written far more shakily than the other.

“Oh, this drawing is beautiful.. Mommy is very proud of you.” Jason didn’t even have to look at her to know that she smiled again, his chest puffing out in pride at her words. He continued to eat, enjoying the meal.

This time around was strangely different. The air went still.

Jason remembered this memory, as it had occurred exactly two days before it happened.

“Jason, sweetie.” She began, her tone sounding.. Unhappy. The little boy looked up, putting a pause on eating as he straightened himself in his seat. “One day, Mommy will not be here for you anymore. Not now, but when you’re older.” An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

To think that the opposite happened.. Jason could not even begin to imagine what his dear mother had felt when everything went horribly wrong.

“In the future, you will meet someone you will find yourself loving. Someone you will find worth protecting. You remember what I told you about love, right Jason?—” A nod. “—Good. I know you will find the right person for you.. You are such a good boy, after all. I know that whoever it is will be so lucky. Mommy taught you best.”

When he was as young as he was back then, the words came to him as a comfort that someone was destined out there for him to meet. The words were bittersweet to him now, seeing the state that he was in now. Was there really anybody worth protecting? He glossed over the people that he met during the time Camp Crystal Lake had been active, only recognising troublemakers and people who were as cruel as the kids back then. It was brief, though his mother speaking once again quickly grabbed at his attention.

“Be sure to treat yourself right as well, okay? The person should be as kind to you as they are with nature—” The boy nodded along at her words, agreeing with them despite not seeming to understand them completely. She smiled anyway as she continued. “—They should be someone that appreciates the simpler things as well.”

Jason couldn’t help but remember you as soon as she mentioned it.

—

You woke up at the crack of dawn thanks to the alarm you set, your mind quieter now as you left your bed. You had to head to work and meet up with a few friends of yours.

You cursed yourself for not planning ahead, knowing how full your schedule was for today. The day began without a hitch, despite your obvious discomfort.

At times, you wondered if you should change your mind on the visit to Crystal Lake by moving the slot to tomorrow rather than today. The obvious promise made to yourself hung heavy in your mind when you did so, alongside a strange feeling of determination to settle things for yourself once and for all.

You bit back your thoughts, your mind now focusing on the other people that you now had to tend to. Apologising, you went on ahead and continued chatting with your friends. The man you saw can be wondered about for later, but you would rather concentrate on the life that you had in this town of yours instead of your post-social hideaway.

It was only a few hours then, the morning slowly turned to noon. Work was over, and the friends who loitered around you began to detach from you as they headed to their homes or to continue on meeting with their own friends. It was one or the other, really. By this time, you would be packing everything to get home by yourself, too, but the prospects of what that meant for you later had you feeling uneasy.

Despite that, you swallowed the feelings you had and left your workplace. Making a beeline toward your car, you drove back home. You quickly showered, putting on comfortable clothing for yourself before heading out once more, making sure to clear the thoughts that attempted to intrude your mind—ones that wanted to have you doubt and give up on chasing whatever it was.

No. You weren’t backing out of this now, you were in it so deep—you feel curiosity burning through your veins. Your foot was on the accelerator again once you drove through the familiar road that led you to Crystal Lake.

You parked yourself in the same spot by the woods, locking your car once more before heading out on foot. The sun began to set in the horizon as you followed along the beaten path in the direction toward the lake.

—

“I know you like the woods here at Crystal Lake.. Maybe you two could even live old together. The lake is really pretty to look at after dark … Maybe Mommy could sneak you out for you to see it yourself.” She sighed softly, going silent momentarily as she began to look to the clearing—one that had a small view of the lake.

Jason never had the chance to with her, but due to the circumstances for him, he saw the stars that dotted along the skyline for himself. She was right about it being pretty.

He wondered if you had seen it as well.

What?

What spurred him to even wonder about it? You were an intruder. A voice hissed.

Yet, you never did anything that was particularly bad for or to the environment.

Not once did you bring people over to wreak havoc, you kept returning to Crystal Lake by yourself. He had multiple opportunities to kill you himself. But he never did.

Why was that?

Soon, the memory that seemed to had suddenly play before him made sense.

“In the future, you will meet someone you will find yourself loving. Someone you will find worth protecting.”

Was this what you meant, mother? He wondered, his eyes widening as he realised what it was that implied for him. Wouldn’t it be impossible?

As if he was struck by lightning once more, he soon realised the double meaning with his mother’s words.

You were kind to nature, someone so delicate with the wildlife as much as you blended in with the environment—as if you were a part of it through his eyes. As if you were meant to be there, in the woods of Crystal Lake. Jason realised that you were the one for him.

“The right person for you..” His mother’s voice echoed in his head once more, strengthening his conclusion in the process.

As if chance had simply made it so, he felt a presence step foot in his territory. Jason initially stuck to the assumption once more that it was an intruder, but he was quick to realise that it was you.

“It doesn’t matter if you are preparing to head to camp or meeting up with friends… You have to at least make a good impression for the others.” His mother’s voice echoed, her words a hint that the man quickly understood.

Jason was quick to realise that he was severely unprepared, taking the opportunity provided to him quite seriously. He looked around, wondering of what he could use to give you a good impression of him. Jason noticed that his left hand was occupied, only now recalling that he had flowers in his hand.

“Do you remember the special language the flowers have, Jason? Each flower has its meaning… I know you remember it well.”

Jason nodded, staring at the flowers that he had retrieved. His right hand grabbed the garden scissors, the blades seemingly rusted over time but still usable. The man got up, a wave of determination now over him. Jason began to move to spots where the flowers he had planted all that time ago were, uncaring of the fact that it was turning into night. That hadn’t stopped him before, nor will it stop him when he had a goal to work toward.

“I knew you’d understand, Jason.”

—

The fact that it turned night seemed to be the last message of the universe telling you that it was a bad idea. It didn’t help the fact that you were freezing cold, despite wearing quite warmly. The cold bit at your exposed hands and face, the entire ordeal uncomfortable but not enough to have you leave. It did the opposite, driving you forward to keep moving through the woods.

The dark made it harder to navigate, but you managed as you slowly inched toward the lake. You passed the worn down bench, a simple indicator that you were getting closer. It was out of place, though the moss and vines that grew over it made it a part of nature—more that fueled the idea of nature taking course and growing over all that had been manmade, slowly but surely.

You saw the bridge, still visible despite the darkness from the night tinting the woods to something you could barely see. You stared at the nightsky. It was the first time you did so, never having the chance to see how the stars appeared on the skyline. As you laid your eyes upon it, you had only one thought occupy your mind as you did so.

The sight was nothing short of extraordinary. It captivated you—and that feeling by itself made the trip bearable for you, at least for now.

You moved cautiously before sitting in place, right at the very spot that you had sat at all these weeks now, admiring the stars living in the sky.

Throughout the entire trip reaching here, not once had you seen the man from that night. You never saw even a glimpse of him, nor did you hear anything that could have come from the man of his stature. The adrenaline you had no longer lingered, your mind’s rationale returning to reprimand you for your foolishness—to think that you were that lucky to escape the clutches of a murderer. The man is not even real, nor does it even seem that he even stayed in the woods at every waking moment. If it were true, you should’ve have died long ago, right as you even trekked to the bridge.

Your rationale appeared to win, though this steadfast mindset didn’t stay for long as what appeared as an irrational fear materialised into reality before you. To think that it all began with a soft creak against the whining wooden planks of the bridge behind you. In an instant, you rose to your feet as you turned to the direction that the noise had been made.

The person’s appearance had been obstructed due to how dark it was, though you quickly realised that the outline of them matched the man you saw in the rear view window. You saw that his hands were holding onto something and that he was now blocking the way to what would be a clean and quick escape, those two facts alone made you all the more anxious.

There he was, standing before you.

You stood still, your body frozen in place, your heart leaping to your throat as the man began to step toward you.

You expected this man, whom you recognised as the culprit behind the crimes, to strike at you with whatever he had in his hands.

You didn’t expect the man to embrace you in a hug, let alone for you to know that the item he held were flowers.

Everything hit you all at once, after you realised who it was that you were embracing.

The rumours were true.

…Jason never really died, did he?

—

Jason had finally met you. Face to face. His hands that held the arrangement of flowers trembling—not out of fear, but rather a strange sentiment of thrill that coursed through his body. He passed the bouquet to his left hand, as its original spot where he had that idea of a first impression for you.

He moved closer, with every step taken a soft creak was sounded through the silence that now overtook Crystal Lake.

He couldn’t see your face, but he knew he didn’t need to. You would accept him either way.

In quick succession, Jason wrapped his arms around you tightly. Holding you close to him, the flowers were now on the floor to your right. They had accidentally fallen from his grip due to his sudden decision to embrace you, but Jason supposed that a first impression was already made.

It took a few moments, perhaps even longer, Jason could never tell the time that it took—but he noticed the movement from your arms as it reciprocated his action. He shut his eyes close slowly, basking in the warmth your body provided alongside the physical contact.

—

Some time passed, a few hours passed with the sun beginning to break through the dark sky. The sound of water moving about fluidly.

You initially believed that the entire incident was a nightmare, one that had culminated over the course of days you had spent absorbing every detail the articles had spoken of regarding the murderer.

In reality, you flush against someone’s chest—the torso adorning the same tattered clothing from before. You slowly lifted your head, looking up to now see the man up close.

He was exactly as described in those accounts, the hockey mask and the attire were what this man adorned. A detail you realised was that a singular eye stared back at you through the eye hole. That detail brought to you your conclusion, that very man responsible—was none other than Jason Voorhees. He was alive—well, for the most part—as you felt yourself move with every heave, his chest rising.

Jason Voorhees was alive and you couldn’t tell a soul about it.

You supposed that he would kill you soon, though you quickly noticed that you both remained on the bridge. Only a few feet away, you now noticed the bouquet of flowers that laid on the planks, it had been hard to even distinguish it in the dark.

They were beginning to rot due to the elements, but they were still discernible to the eye.

In the bouquet lay baptisia, a few bearded irises, and a lady’s mantle. The roses surrounded the flora in a neat ensemble, twine tied around it in a neat bow to fully portray its meaning toward you.

Seeing this arrangement with your own eyes had you feeling a sense of contentment overtook your body despite the conflicted thoughts that swarmed you. It was strange, finding relief in knowing that he wouldn’t harm you. A strange that

You returned your gaze to Jason’s, stilling once you felt a thumb gently caress your cheek. It felt as though it was his attempt to show you his feelings without showing you his facial expressions.

At that moment, you realised that this arrangement was one that you could slowly get used to.

—

You had fallen asleep in his arms that night.

Jason felt accomplished with himself to have you sleep as comfortably as you did in his arms. He had seen you shivering prior. In response he, in a sense, had provided for you as a shield, perhaps a blanket was a better term, from the cold that nipped at your skin.

You woke up, of course, but you didn’t fear him once you realised who it was. You didn’t seem to fear him at all, as if you were indifferent to the fact that you were in the arms of a undead man. Jason felt his heart flutter softly as he realised it.

When you leaned into his hand that has his thumb caressing your cheek ever so affectionately, his heart picked up a little more. His heartbeat began to quicken in response, his gaze softening even further as he hugged you close once again. Jason knew he was being greedy for affection, but this is what good boys deserve, don’t they?

You were someone who didn’t view him in disgust, he’s seen it in your eyes. They held satisfaction whenever you appreciate the flora and fauna that he helped mend—noting the appreciation you had for the little things in life, just as his mother had described.

You didn’t venture into Crystal Lake in search of him, but it was seemingly for yourself as an escape. He assumed that it so due the exhaustion you seemed to have lingering at times whenever you visited.

With each confirmation, Jason realised that you had become someone that was worth protecting.

You were real, someone that Jason could hold close to him and share his affection towards.

Jason made sure to wrap his arms around you gently, with him now realising how nice it was to be in your embrace.

Baptisia: Protective / Protection.

Bearded Iris: Faith, hope, courage, wisdom and admiration.

Lady's Mantle: Comforting love.

Rose: Romance, love, beauty and courage.

I had initially planned to post it on the 9th, but I will be busy on that date and will instead be posting a headcanon by then. I apologise for any mistakes made!

I really hope that you enjoyed this piece and please reblog this!!

I appreciate the fact that you all have been really supportive toward this blog. Have a great day/night ahead!! (:

#jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees x you #slasher x reader #slasher x you

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