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wisteriagoesvroom · 4 months

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hello hello! Are you still doing fluffy prompts? If so may I please ask for cuddling in a bathtub or something?

I'm not annoning I have no shame or dignity left

so your idea spurred another idea. it is tangential, but i hope it still delivers on the Soft Vibes. thank u for prompting 🫂

don't take too much (off of me)

📝 1.3k words 💟 lestappen 🟢 rated G 🔗 also on ao3

“Stop moving.”

“I’m not.”

Charles twirls the scissors between two fingers, hoping that his posture is authoritative enough that Max will quit squirming in his chair. They are in the middle of lockdown and neither is sure when their tentative friendship turned into this – at first it was innocuous knocks on the door to play FIFA, then it was to borrow a jar of pesto here and there. Then, trampling into each other’s apartments. Max knowing to wipe his shoes on the carpet, Charles helping pick up cat food on his regular run to the grocery store (in line with lockdown mandates, they’re only allowed to go to the store twice a week.)

And now they are here. Max sitting on a dining room chair, leaning back, a makeshift cowl around his shoulders that Charles had stolen from his maman’s salon. Max tries not to twitch or move, knowing that the process of hair cutting is a delicate process. Sure, he has sat for a haircut many times before, but never under the hands of this erratic ball of energy that is Charles Leclerc, who is currently brandishing a blade like a child would a spork.

“Do you trust me, or not?” Charles says. Indignant.

“I’m here, am I not?”

“Unhappily, it seems.”

“Kerel. You have wavy hair. You look like a Disney prince. Me? One wrong move of the scissors and there will be memes in my name.”

“But it’s kind of fun when they are making the memes about you. No?”

Max glowers. “It is when they’re nice ones.”

Charles makes a noise between a snort and a guffaw. Charles perched on a stool behind him, so he can’t see the other man’s expression. But when Max looks to the corner of his living room, Max can see Charles’s face in the reflection there. Just a sliver of his face, in profile. Max expects to find Charles’s eyes crinkled, maybe teasing. Max is used to it, after all. Being the an easy target, a convenient villain. Because a lion never roars back. Not outside of the track, anyway. Even if he sometimes hides in his apartment with his cats and licks his wounds instead.

Max’s shoulders tense, hackles up. But Charles’s eyes are very soft. The punchline never comes.

“Well. I think you very handsome, Maximilian.” Charles says.

Oh. Max’s throat bobs. He doesn’t really know what to say. He’s been called many things in the past. Handsome isn’t necessarily one of them. And somehow it has a greater weight, a different bearing, when it comes from Charles. Because Charles is someone he’s begun to acknowledge that he cares about, perhaps a great deal.

“And now! We are doing the short at the sides and long at the top, oui?” Charles says. Snapping straighter in his makeshift hairdresser’s stool, energy whipping through him like lightning. Changing the topic as if he hadn’t just confessed to Max the very same thing that Max has been thinking about Charles for weeks – or if he’s honest – years, now.

“Whatever you do, make sure it’s tidy, yeah?”

“Come on mate. I am always careful.”

“Like you were when you drove into the Copse wall.”

“That was an isolated incident. Due to a combination of unexpected mechanical factors.”

“Pfft. Okay. Save that response for Sky.”

“You’re nearly as annoying as them, sometimes.” Charles says, frown gentle before he lifts the scissors again.

Comfortably back in their banter-y element, the chatter continues. Charles is careful about his work, the blades moving slowly and carefully. And what Charles lacks in finesse he makes up for in social skills, clearly inheriting this from his parents. Talking and filling the silence comfortably, wandering from topics as diverse as sailing on the Monaco coastline, to David Guetta’s recent bizarre fundraiser video, to the latest model of automatic cat feeder that has become available on the market. Charles’s fingers brush his jaw occasionally to adjust the angle, scissors glinting in the afternoon sun. Max deliberately avoids eye contact, only glimpsing at him occasionally to share a laugh.

At the end, Charles uses a towel to brush the loose hair off Max’s neck. They both get up to stand at Max’s living room mirror, surveying Charles’s handiwork. Their reflections loom large, shoulder to shoulder at the same height. Besides, Max isn’t really looking at himself, and neither is Charles, either.

“It’s good, yes?” Charles says. Low, conspiratorial.

Max’s grip tightens on the towel that he’s holding. His pulse etches up. The whole afternoon has been gentle touch, contact that aches because the pandemic has made him even more pathetically wanting than usual. Contact that he’s been trying very hard not to think about or keep for more nefarious purposes later.

The other man's gaze is warm in the mirror. Max thinks of fresh cut grass at Imola, his favourite corner in Silverstone.

“Yes.” Max says. It’s good. The haircut, him, them. This strange rhythm they’ve found together. The quiet space of each other’s apartment, each other’s company, temporarily safe from the world. The trust offered to one another: enough to let them run you into gravel and trust that it was worth the fight. Enough to hold a blade in your hand and only let one other person in the world come near you with it. Risk, and promise.

Then he’s turning towards Charles. Charles mirroring him. The light is bright and the sky blue in the window, but all Max can see for a moment is Charles’s face, his half open mouth ripe like a plum. The scent, this close, of Charles’s carrefour laundry softener and woody aftershave.

And they’re leaning towards each other, a boundary they might finally cross, let the cards fall where they fucking may, when—

A yowl. A screech. A mighty crash.

“Sassy!” Max says, practically jumping out of his skin.

Both men whip around at the source of the noise. Sassy’s frozen on a shelf, a beige mass with yellow eyes. Paw half up, looking guilty – if a cat could look guilty– at a trophy that he has just knocked off a counter. Jimmy, on the other hand, is absolutely nowhere to be seen, already having escaped the scene of the crime.

Max groans into his hands. But then Charles is laughing, an asthmatic penguin noise that Max has really come to like. It melts the fire in Max a little, amusement tempering his frustration. (The trophy is not the source of Max’s current frustration, but Charles does not need to know that.)

“I shall get the broom.” Charles says.

“Thanks.”

So the moment passes. They clean up. On their hands and knees, near, but not touching. The broken trophy is the one he got for his overtake on Nasr in his first year in F1, and offers a chance for them to reminisce about their races. For Max to joke a little about whether Charles will get his first WDC when the pandemic is over, both of them excited about the future, a future with both of them in it, still trying, still racing each other to the brink. It’s much easier to do this, than to talk about the almost-kiss, or break the seal on this moment that they know won’t last forever.

Debris cleared, and the cats shooed into the study, Charles mentions that he should go return his equipment to his mother. They stand at the doorway for a moment that stretches too long.

Max doesn’t know how long they have. Of this, of each other. Of being left alone, of the world not encroaching with cameras or demands for explanations or labels for what they are. Of getting to know each other not as competitors, but on their own terms, in their own time.

But for a long time, Max will always remember this moment. The two of them, a dining chair. His crazy cats, Charles’s toothy smile. Their partial reflections in the mirror, an afternoon unfolding with potential.

A warm hand on his back to let him know he’s cared for, and looked after.

#lestappen #f1 rpf #max verstappen #charles leclerc #3316 #1633 #drabble #f1 drabble #prompt fill #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #fluff #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fic #ficlet #formula 1 rpf #f1 fic #wisteriawritesstuff

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babiebom · 2 months

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Hiiii. I hope ur ok with my just constantly being like *ahem* spencer reid 👉🏻👈🏻🥹🥹. I loved how you wrote him in the last request! I feel like a lot of the time, people write him very ooc - just bc he can be hard to get written the right way, but like that's my boy, look at him spitting random facts for HOURS 🥰🥰?? Like yes, pls info dump on me while I stare at u lovingly, Spence 💞.

I recently came to terms with being ftm, but it's almost impossible to find any male! reader x Spencer Reid content. Which can be very dysphoric 😵‍💫. Which sucks! Bc holy hell, there are some fuckinnn amazing writers out there writing fanfics.

So now, I have come to you, an amazing writer out here writing fanfics, to beg ask if ud be down to write any kind of oneshot with Spencer Reid dating a male reader! It honestly doesn't have to be anything specific - romantic, angsty, enemies to lovers, slow burn, whatever peaks ur interest atm!

I would just love, love to have that content with Spence & a male reader if you're down for the task! Thank you so so muchh 💓. Hope ur having a wonderful morning / afternoon / evening !

A/N:im sorry this took so long!! I’ve been busy working (blegh) and I wanted to write something sweet for you!! I’m happy you’ve come to terms with being ftm!! As a cis identifying person myself I can’t say that I know how it feels, but I am VERY happy that you’re more comfortable with your identity!! Also never worry about being too “crazy” over Spencer I’ve been obsessed with him since I was about 5 or 6 (yes it’s been a long time)!! I’ll try more to write in a more gender neutral way when writing anything reader insert related that way you can enjoy my writing without feeling left out or anything!! Always let me know if there are things I can do better <3

Tw: maybe some cursing but overall should be wholesome

Wc: 0.54k

Criminal Minds Masterlist

Spencer Reid often came home dejected after a case gone wrong, it was often that he came home tired but happy after a successful case. It wasn’t often, however, that he came home excited for a break; but then again he hadn’t had a boyfriend to come home to on previous breaks. Now, as you watch him walk through the front door of your shared apartment, you can’t help but grin at the absolutely goofy look on his face.

“Emily gave us all 4 weeks off to rest after our latest case, so that means I get four WHOLE weeks of you to myself! Isn’t that great?” He lets out a giggle after he finishes speaking, putting his bag down on the kitchen counter. You didn’t even have to ask him why he was so giddy, he answered unprompted.

“It is great!” You try to match his energy, only seeing him this excited for the first time since you’ve met. He brings you into his embrace, hugging you so tightly that you think you might die if he squeezed you any tighter. “So what are your plans now that you’re a free man for four whole weeks?”

“Well we could go to the park and play chess, or stay here and play chess but I think the sunlight would be good for both of us. Or we could go to the movies, or take a class together, or…”

“Your plans are to just have dates with me every single day?” You ask, quirking an eyebrow.

He nods as if the answer is the most obvious, concrete fact in the universe. He looks at you, not as if you’re dumb, but as if to say ‘duh what else would I be planning to do?’.

The two of you move to sit on the couch, enveloped in each other as he talks about the many, many dates you’re going to go on now that he’s free from his time constricting job. “What if I don’t wanna do those things?” You ask playfully. He shrugs.

“It doesn’t matter what we do, as long as I get to do it with you”.

“Oh?” You look at him as if he said something scandalous, “I didn’t know you had that big of a crush on me.”

He shoves you gently, rolling his eyes at your attempt to joke off his sweet words.

“You’re joking but studies have found that couples who have regular date nights more often result in higher relationship satisfaction, better communication, and a stronger emotional connection. Us going on dates during these four weeks will be better for us in the long run.”

You don’t reply, or interrupt. It’s always amusing to listen to him ramble on and on about facts that he finds interesting or applicable to the conversation. And all it does is make you fall more in love with him, seeing how serious he is about your relationship working out in the future. He says that he loves you often, but it’s things like this; seeing and listening to how much he genuinely cares about your relationship.

Being the boyfriend of a pretty boy genius has its perks, and how much he cares about you compared to others is definitely one of them.

#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds fluff #cm oneshots #cm x reader #cm spencer reid #cm #cm dribbles #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #cm fluff #spencer reid x male reader

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riseofamoonycake · 11 months

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hi there, can you pls write some more about Indra x reader (NSFW version)? ////v//// Thank u sm and have a gud day/night <3

I don’t know why, but whenever you send me requests about someone related to the Hindu Pantheon, this happens: 13 pages of story.

ANYWAY, thank you for your patience!

The Voice I Love

⚔️Pairing: Indra x Gn!reader

⚔️Warnings: mention of sex (penetration, fingering, oral), kinks (body worship, praising kink, nipple play), violence, death

⚔️

Close your eyes, take a deep breath.

Exhale.

Inhale, and exhale again.

Listen to the sound that comes from the world around you… feel every leaf that grows on the oak trees, every grain of sand between your toes, every animal’s cry that demands respect… you are as sensitive as a newborn baby.

You have the power to become anything, fire or arrow, mercy or despair.

Now, sing what you see.

Sing what you are.

Commander of Terrors,

We pray for your voice: bring Death with you.

They teach you this mantra every time: every battle, every awake, every breath. They tantalize your soul with whispers, they kneel before you but you are a mere tool in their hands: you are their precious slave, not their deadly leader.

You are a thing, the most dangerous artifact in our world, the saddest creature men can see. You are nothing… so how could you choose what to become?

They are driving you insane, inspiring you thoughts that don’t belong to your mind, bending you down under a new form of torture: you can’t run away, no shelter, no sanctuary for a monster like you. You deserve only one destiny, the infinite circularity of blood spilled out. And unfortunately for you, there is always a war where you are called upon to dominate.

The voice: this is the cause of your unhappiness. It is all in the voice, in the language that allows it to express itself, in the vocal cords imbued with magic, enchantment and beauty, which make you less human and more like a dream creature, the emanation of a siren or the fruit of an union with one of them.

The voice… your every word is a curse, it is a command and an illusion: reality can only obey you, and you too must bow down to it. You are only a means that allows it to express itself, it is not up to you to decide anything; and the tyrants and warlords who, one after the other, keep you tightly in their grip make sure that you always keep this in mind, pulling at the strings of your weaknesses but being very careful not to break them.

Don’t ask about your family, your people and the man you loved, you don’t need them and they don’t need you. Your skills cannot be tied to a common life… you would always be someone’s prey.

Do you love the sea? Do what we tell you, and you will see it.

Try to think what dominion you have on the battlefield: everyone reveres you, fears you, you are the strongest. A single word is enough for you to bring victory, you are contested by the strongest, a divinity; is this not enough for you? Isn’t that enough for you?

No, it is not enough for you, because that is not what you want. You repudiate the sight of blood and death, stealing the lives of others and tormenting create a inside of you a nausea so strong that, after each fight, you really convince yourself that you must die, that it will not be possible for you to see a new day, you had overcome any limit; but it never happens, no one brings you this relief.

At least please, Great Gods... make this the last battle for me. Tear me apart, pierce me, here, here is my head, take it! Tear out my tongue, cut my throat, please, no more torment. I want to die. I want to be free in the wind, to beg forgiveness of the innocent souls I’ve reaped. One wish, one wish... givers of honors and fears, please hear my enchanting voice and come to me. I want your destructive hand on me… I want to be devoured by you.

Your prayers are always heartbreaking and could move even the strongest stones, yet you have now come to a conclusion: even if the gods exist, they don’t care about you at all. They don’t love you or they are so angry at your actions that they don’t realize that you are just a victim, the first in a long line. And you have to be careful, because the voice is your worst enemy, like a sentient being it knows your thoughts and prevents you from realizing your desires: it deceives you, it threatens you, it denounces your every action, it is your jailer and torturer; it hates you as badly as you hate it, and it never gives you a chance to hope.

Even today, at the dawn of yet another clash, your throat burns with the desire to incinerate the earth around you, to kill and push to kill, torture, wring out prayers and cries, bring you to your knees, bend to his will; and you are feeling the weight of his desires in the already damp and tense morning, motionless but restless. The air is heavy and electric, a thunderstorm is approaching from the east along with a sun that is as bright as it is huge, supernatural: they seem to guide each other, and for a long moment you stand watching the dark clouds frolicking with the warm golden rays without covering them, just obscuring the world.

Standing at the entrance to your tent, your armor not yet worn but your throat well covered by the gold plates that permanently cover it, you stare at what is happening in the sky with surprise and a slight awe, seeing something inside it that there shouldn’t be. It is a sky only the gods can see, so why is it here, for you? What is happening, who is approaching?

The city you see before you, enclosed by walls, black and threatening like a creature in ambush, must fall; this is the order that comes from outside and within you. However, in addition to feeling the usual loathing towards yourself, today you also feel the terror coursing through your veins as strongly and increasing as the storm advances. You don’t have to take another step, because something horrific awaits you on the other side; it is necessary for you to find a way to escape… even if you know that this is impossible, and you just have to turn your gaze and meet the pleading and fearful eyes of the army, already ready and eager to finish the fight as soon as possible to leave from that wicked place, to confirm it. Trembling with tension and confused, you return to the tent to be armed: the plates around your throat jingle merrily while the attendants enclose your body in a steel wall, unlike you they do not have fear and are only interested in protecting the strongest and bloodiest weapon this land has ever seen.

Even if today the words cause you twice as much suffering, your throat still wants to pronounce them and that is what it commands you: and as soon as you climb the hill overlooking the plain where the city stands, a single voice snakes through the air, a deep sigh that shakes the trees and sweeps the towers, bringing complete silence among men and into the sky. As you take a breath and close your eyes, sinking into the darkness of your sins and asking for forgiveness for the umpteenth time, the spell begins.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale, and exhale again.

When you start to sing your poignant and irresistible melody, a song so hypnotic and wild that it turns the eyes of the stars in your direction and forces the animals to bend down in front of you, Death approaches; you feel It coming, Its steps are clear and deep and the ground resounds with them while its icy breath brushes the back of your neck, and even if you don’t see It you know that It is passing by you to continue towards the city. Soon your ears are struck by the clang of weapons and armor clashing against each other, by the screams of men who conquer and fall, by the invocations of the most disparate entities and by the sound of the blackest fear; your nostrils fill with the smell of blood, a hot and ferrous river that rushes along the city walls ― you know it is like this even if you insist on keeping your eyes closed ―, and even if you don’t want to inhale it deeply, you do it continuing to sing. The stench of flesh burnt to the bone soon comes to keep him company.

But we didn’t light fires�� we don’t burn.

Such awareness makes your eyes widen as it penetrates the brain, putting you on alert; and when your gaze manages to fix itself on the plain, it is already too late.

Run.

Stunned, unable to react or even think, you stare at the army of which you are part being hit by the storm, which however does not even touch you with a drop of water, and being reduced to ashes by the power of the fastest and most violent lightnings you have ever seen; the trembling of the lightning-lashed ground and the roar of heavenly rage makes you flinch, but you cannot escape, such is the horror and terror you feel.

Get out of here.

Only your voice persists, it doesn’t give up like you and still continues to impose itself: in doing so, it attracts the attention of the storm, which calms down with the same impetus with which it arrived, leaving only silence.

And in the immobility, someone approaches: someone is looking for you, starting to go up the hill. In the absolute absence of motion, your heart beats like a drum, making you the perfect prey.

Run!

«I have to leave… I have to flee!», you scream inside yourself, digging your nails into the palm of your hand to push the body to shake itself and managing only to crawl a few steps. You are trembling all over, you know whatever awaits you is going to be scary, there is no going back now, «I can’t… I can’t stay…»

Hurry, hurry!

You freeze again, stiffening and eyes widening in surprise, feeling a presence behind you. You dare not turn or look: it is the end now. Whoever he is, so tall that he totally covers you with his shadow and engulfs you like a black hole, you know he is stronger than you: and his gaze is mad, piercing and daggering your soul, his powers unimaginable. His vengeance, ruthless. And yet… a feeling.

Finally, a god did indeed answer your prayers, but not in the way you wished. And yet… a memory.

«Found you…»

The last thing you hear before passing out is the thunderous sound of a lightning, so close to you that it sends jolts of pain throughout your body, and a low, fiery roar into your ear. Below, in the heart of the soul, a flicker of happiness and emotion.

⚔️

Finally, I have found you.

In your eyes, wide open with horror and the rain that has now begun to flood them, Indra reads all the fear that tyrants, sorcerers and slimy humans have managed to instill in your innocent body and mind, and his fury erupts in lightning and thunder without equal, reducing to ashes the whole plain and those who had somehow managed to escape his previous blows: how could they, how? Who helped them in this?

Your body feels heavy in his arms: not from the armor that covers you from head to toe, not from the fact that you fainted the moment you saw him and now lie abandoned against his chest, but because of those cursed gold plates that lock your throat, so full of poison that brown liquid oozes on his skin, burning his fingers just to try to ward off the only entity capable of fighting them. The black spell that your torturers have instilled in the metal battle after battle, the spell that forces your voice to obey their wishes, creaks and hisses every time the god’s hands try to touch the plates: they are afraid, they know they are in danger, and threaten to turn against the only weakness that the Lord of Lightning possesses, ready to squeeze your throat until it takes your breath and with it your life.

«Y/N… Y/N, if you can hear me, I’m here. If your soul recognizes me, rest assured, I will not abandon you», Indra murmurs, refusing to let you go and instead wrapping his arms around you better. He is not used to holding you, not with these features: you, before, didn’t inhabit the body you occupy now, and since you are unconscious, he can’t know if you feel pain at his every touch; but it is you. Even if with another appearance, he could never be wrong. Not after all this time.

«The sea… someone take me to see the sea. I can’t take it anymore…» Your voice is a whisper, it is the last prayer you raise to heaven; but this time, the only god you have always unconsciously called answers, he is not so far from you and forcibly separated from your shadow that he doesn’t hear you. No spell can make him more deaf to your weeping.

«Y/N… hold on, hold on for me», Indra murmurs in your ear, taking you away from the battlefield. He is not the calm, unflappable, reassuring god you knew long ago; this Indra is consumed with anger and hatred, with relief at having you held again and with tension. Merciless: it is the only adjective to define his eyes that sparkle, his mouth with squealing teeth and the sound of his footsteps so similar to a war drum. It is a lion, an animal without sense and made only of ferocity, which roars and silences even the clouds.

The only one who isn’t scared of him is you, who snuggles and rubs your cheek against the tattoos on his chest, seeking warmth. You are unconscious, yet you feel safe now; and this gives him the strength to continue advancing, wide strides that allow him to cover entire kilometers in a few moments, directed towards the smell of the sea and the rustling of its waves. «We are almost there», he murmurs while keeping you constantly under observation, «rest, now I’ll take care of you.»

You obey instinctively, calming down and leaving everything to him; you sink into a black void of thoughts and sensations, a warm and dense pond that keeps you safe, removes all noise and envelops you like a cradle. In that emptiness you rest for a long time, until the rustle of a wave penetrates your mind and slowly brings you back to reality together with the sea’s parfum and the fresh breeze that ruffles your hair like a rude but benevolent caress.

You open your eyes slowly, taking a deep breath, and stare at the blue sky, just dotted by some clouds, above you. You are no longer on the plain, but in a completely new world, where war has never arrived: only foam, blue depths, animals and flowers with a stunning scent. A flight of seagulls and their call catches your attention, and you instinctively throw your head back to follow them; and that is when your neck collides with the softness of a hand, and suddenly, like coming out of a dream, you realize you are in someone’s arms.

Strong fingers support and massage your arms and back, a benevolent face partially hidden by messy white hair is leaning over you, and the splendid gaze, vivid and rolling as if instead of eyes there were two stars, observes your every reaction and plants itself in yours, waiting. While you stare at it in silence many questions arise, but very little fear: there are sensations that prevent you from having any, and the chest against which you are leaning your cheek… those designs engraved on the skin and on the forearms...

I know you. I know who you are… even if I can’t explain how. But I know you, and I’m not afraid of you. «You visit my dreams every night, together with the sea», you murmur with a note of rapture and surprise, «your face, your tattoos… you keep me company through all the storms, you never leave me when I’m scared. I don’t know… or rather, I don’t remember your name, but I know you, you are a mighty and great god, and my heart cries out for you. You have always been with me.»

Indra is no god who weeps, not a tear furrows his cheek; but he has other ways of expressing his emotions, and you can tell it from the fold his mouth takes, his lips parted and trembling and his eyes narrowed. «Welcome back to me, Y/N. Now fear no more, I’m with you again.»

«Y/N? Why are you calling me that? I have another name...» You hesitate, then frown, «or rather, I’ve always been called by a different name. Certainly not with the calm and affection with which you are doing it.»

Indra doesn’t answer right away: first he touches your plates, and you both immediately hear them hiss and moan, almost writhing in revulsion and terror. A light pressure on your throat indicates that one of them has pulled back to grip your skin, but before you can tell, he is slipping a finger between it and your neck, shielding you from contact with the metal. «You may not know it, but Y/N is the name of the creature I loved millennia ago, now… and it is your name, because her voice and her soul are present within you.» A foul-smelling whiff, the stench of burnt flesh, hits your nostrils making you dizzy; with consternation you realize that it is Indra’s fingers that are burned, poisoned by the spell that soaks the gold. «They took and killed her just to get her voice and the abilities associated with it. They ripped out her vocal cords to implant them in human bodies and transform them into weapons to be exploited at will... without any mercy. Without me being able to do anything.»

You hold your breath, your eyes filled with tears from the smoke rising from his hand; moment after moment, while the god’s anger wins every spell at the cost of his own blood and the plates give way under his pressure, falling to the ground like leaves and allowing you to breathe freely for the first time since you were born, the tension completely abandons your shoulders and you find yourself with your head resting on his shoulder, your chest rising and falling continuously and your eyes planted on Indra’s fingers, tortured and dripping dark drops. «My lord…», you murmur without thinking about it ― but deep down you know why, you know ―, grabbing his hand and bringing it to your mouth, smearing yourself with scarlet as you rub your fingers against your lips, then pressing them to your chest, «my sir, and now how can I ever thank you? First you save me from my tormentors, then you free me from my sentence… how am I going to repay you?»

«The curse is over forever», the god murmurs, pointing to the twisted plates with a bitter grin, «and what you suffered has all paid off. You don’t owe me anything.»

«No, it is not true.» To Indra’s surprise, you free yourself from his grip and, leaping to your feet, you kneel in front of him: your hands don’t want to leave his, they squeeze them again while your gaze searches for him. Even if you know you are being rude, your prayer to him is the most heartfelt you have ever asked. «That’s not true, because it’s not over yet: they killed someone you loved to steal her voice and transform me, and only you know how many others before me, into a damned creature. What am I in the end? What importance do I have? Sink your fangs into my flesh and tear it apart, as I have long prayed. I’m ready, I’m not afraid of the consequences. I deserve it and you deserve it too… that way, no one will have to suffer anymore. Do not think it is all over: more accursed tools may be forged, and as long as I have this voice I will always be in danger.» Now it is you who speaks: there are no reminiscences, there are no memories. It is you with your fears, with what they forced you to live, and everything you feel for Indra is kept at bay by terror. You don’t even know who you are, after all… before you were convinced you were just a tool, and now you discover that you possess what remains of another entity. How can you accept the words Indra offers you, the love you feel pulsing under his skin? He is here but not for you, he is talking to what he sees in your eyes. It is not you he is loving, but who you enshrine. «Don’t hold back any longer… do what you have to, please. You cannot ignore my plea now.»

The god doesn’t say anything; first he looks at you for a long time, digging deep into your soul with his swirling eyes, then he frees himself from your grip. The fingers no longer bleed, not a scar covers them, and they are still when they rest on your head, to then descend along your face and caress every feature of it, massaging the cheeks, passing the mouth, following the shape of the eyes, and blowing hard.

You close your eyes instinctively, jolting for an instant; and immediately feel.

You feel that you are not the first to have met the god on your way; you feel that although bad luck has persecuted those who have loved, he has never given up on looking for them. You feel that Indra has loved them fully, deeply, forever; and not because they are containers of the partner he has lost, but as their own identities, people infused with memories but with their souls. You feel that there have been more fortunate entities, not tied to the fate that binds you to those who received the curse before you; but now he is talking about you. You as a person, you as a heart, which can only beat with your feelings, for who you are. The memories you feel smell of songs, laughter and sweetness, but they can’t be your whole person: you are the one who lives, you are the one who feels them and sees the beauty in them. It is you who, now, can decide for yourself.

«Great Indra…», you murmur, recognizing a face and a name, a power and a blessing; and you cling to those hands that now caress your neck and the purplish spots where the plates used to grip tightly, taming your desire; and you sink your face against your chest where the marks seem to open wide and welcome you, engulf you to shine with the light that now you can emanate without fear or limitation.

«Do you still want to die, Y/N? After all this… do you really want to leave?»

You shake your head slightly, feeling tears prick your eyes. Indra repeats the question close to your lips, almost breathing into you, and you deny again; and then you let everything happen, desiring it, calling it to you. If you have to start knowing yourself, everything has to start from here.

⚔️

Tear me apart.

Your deep breaths are capable of overcoming even the impetus of the sea, with all its boiling, breaking and screaming. Lying on the beach and completely naked, a short distance from the waves, under Indra’s hands your flesh looks like clay so much it vibrates and tenses, twists and relaxes, your legs now desensitized by the shivers and tremors that are going through them.

Well planted between them, his fingers holding your thighs in an iron grip, the god licks and sucks your intimacy, wrapping his tongue around the most sensitive points or letting it penetrate deeper and deeper, attacking and tormenting everything he finds, testing your ability to endure. Arms abandoned around your face, you can do nothing against the overwhelming sensations you are feeling: your mind is won, they destroy every barrier, they tear you apart until you are reduced to crumbs. And you love this fall.

Your prayer is being fully heard.

Pierce me.

«Great Indra… please, please!»

Indra thrusts into you one more time, enjoying every moan and prayer that escapes your lips and pressing you closer to his chest, without allowing you escape, rest or pity. Sitting on his lap, arms on his shoulders and legs around his waist, his breath in your ear steals yours. The penetration becomes more and more decisive, slow but hungry: the god’s body is thirsty and at the same time eager to pour all the pleasure you can hold inside you, and his urgency is expressed in the way he bites your lobe ear or sinks his teeth into his neck, greedily clenching the flesh and digging it with his nails, scratching and leaving a constellation of red marks wherever he passes.

Years of absence and distance make him feel an almost painful desire, which is consumed with the violence of a hurricane; never in your life have you felt something like this and you don’t want to see the end of it, not while you are in his arms.

Rip off my tongue, cut my throat.

Your voice dies when Indra caresses your neck and leaves a trail of soft and small kisses, to then seek nourishment in your collarbones and further down, towards your chest that rises to meet him. His hands that grip your hips, yours that squeeze his head sinking into the snow-colored hair, you let him play with your nipples and bite and tug at them like an inexperienced child, moaning and fidgeting but without even thinking about telling him to stop. How could you? You don’t even have the breath left to murmur to him how much heaven he is giving you right now…

A bite stronger than the others, settled in the hollow between the neck and shoulder, makes you squeak like a little mouse, and Indra laughs: a low, deep and vibrant laugh, which could sound both threatening and heralding something important to you. The sensation of something liquid running down your hair makes your eyes widen in surprise, as does the sight of the god licking his freshly reddened lips. «Forgive me… the occasion was too tempting not to take advantage of it. And your blood is delicious.»

A second laugh; this time, all for the blush that has flushed your cheeks, which are not spared from all the bites and marks with which Indra intends to make you his again and again.

I want your destroying hand upon me. I want to be devoured by you.

«Everything is fine, my beloved Y/N?»

You won’t be able to do without his hands: now that you know them, you won’t be able to get rid of them. His bronze fingers dance through your hair and grab it to expose your neck, and here you let his mouth intervene.

«Now you are mine again, don’t worry about anything else…»

You moan softly and gasp as the god shifts position and puts you on all fours, then covers you with his body. You shiver all over as you feel his chest and abdomen rubbing against your back and his erect member seeking relief inside you again, but you truly lose yourself when one of his hands slides along your shoulder and caresses your arm with the tips of his fingers, to then rest on yours and squeeze them tightly, sinking in the hot sand; the other caresses your chest and belly in continuous movements, making your eyes tremble with pleasure. His shadow is your only dress, his lips on the back of your neck and shoulder your jewel, his hands your armor, the only one you desire for all your life.

Finally, yes, all your prayers have been answered.

#record of ragnarok x reader #ror x reader #record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror indra #record of ragnarok indra #snv indra #shuumatsu no valkyrie indra

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woso-dreamzzz · 22 days

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hey long anon back (another anon said they agreed w the “long anon” and that actually made me smile) here to apologize again out of courtesy of this long message even if you’ve said not to hehe (sorry for not listening to u)

WHAT THE HELL!!?!1!3?2?32 oh my lord. that ending is such a great way to leeway into what i assume will be the break point between jenni and alexia’s endings. thanks for already breaking my heart… again.

i was just wondering throughout this part if bambi was going to be considered for her own input on this decision. she’s obviously young but she’s ultimately going to be the one most affected by these decisions… but upon reflection i guess it would be hard to conduct that sort of conversation. maybe we can put bambi in an interrogation room and just straight up ask her who she prefers and connect her to a lie detector test (what’s another round of trauma going to do to her at this point? kidding. love u bambi i’m here for u and u only now) but seriously i feel like bambi’s rationale or input on how she’s feeling about either jenni or alexia is sort of needed… idk. maybe it’s just me?

eli telling alexia to think with her head and not her heart is so so real. both jenni and alexia definitely have their own opinions but i still do think jenni’s being more rational about everything—(hear me out alexia agenda) jenni has always wanted bambi and even if she’s expressed jealousy that she was alexia’s and not jenni’s… jenni ultimately has always thought about what was best FOR bambi. the argument that bambi is biologically alexia’s and thus should stay with her isn’t my cup of tea because it isn’t a matter of who claims the child… it’s a matter of who is the better caretaker. jenni’s proven to be just that. she’s had her pitfalls: not immediately realizing the signs of meningitis (even if it DID seem like she clocked symptoms but not what was happening… if that makes sense), inadvertently frightening bambi in the hospital. but what she does is always FOR bambi, and that manifests itself in her mindset and actions.

for alexia things seem unnatural. a lot in terms of bambi was sort of done for alexia and her own feelings/gain. injured i, for example—i sort of got the feeling alexia snapped at eli so she could hold bambi to regulate her feelings, to try and make herself feel better now that she’s lost her chances at playing in the euros. she comments that she’ll be able to spend more time now with bambi but that feels so bitter to me. putting bambi in football even if there were no results and then being disappointed was for herself too—it shows especially in her pride of jaume being a footballer later on. eli’s the one to suggest ballet and then alexia feels proud because bambi’s got alexia’s determination and drive. and it sucks she only truly sees this drive because she never used to spend time at the studio anyway. at the price of bambi’s happiness (to see her mother watching her at something she loves to do) alexia chooses to routinely run errands instead. buying her trains was probably the only thing done FOR bambi to flourish her interests and it makes me so upset bc even after all that i still feel bad for alexia 😭

again jenni is rational and knows her place. bambi is biologically alexia’s, and alexia has the last say. she’s respectful and won’t admit her deeper, darker feelings towards alexia’s now-tainted relationship with bambi. i like that her sole focus is bambi (the fact she’s thought through the ballet studio near her apartment and the fact that her club is good for childcare too has me so soft.) and while alexia’s made THE bad™️ mistake, and she IS trying to make things right… her rationale is to keep bambi for herself. to fulfill the perfect family picture she’s painted in her mind. there are instances where she admits jenni’s probably better (because she is) and so i’m lost again truly trying to imagine what it’d be like in alexia’s ending over jenni’s. would jenni still be present in bambi’s life in alexia’s version? can jenni move back to spain in either outcome? that way (again) bambi’s not uprooted from her entire family in spain and so jenni can ultimately be bambi’s primary caretaker and easily facilitate bambi seeing eli and alba <3

alright idk if i’ve made any sense… sorry if i didn’t 🫣 ps. thank you for treat you better iii <3 codi’s my most favourite person ever tbh. flowers for you and for codi! 💐 what’s your fav flower?

Bambi didn't get any input at all. It was completely out of her hands, mainly because she doesn't fully understand the situation she is in despite it all revolving around her. She doesn't understand the intricacies and just how close she was to having it affect her in a much more severe way. There's a chance that if they ask her then she'll choose whoever is her current favourite. She can't think about the long-term effects of her decision. But she should have gotten some input but Eli's right. Alexia (at the moment) has all the rights to Bambi so if she doesn't want to do something then nobody can force her to.

Jenni has always been in Bambi's corner from the very beginning but she definitely does have her pitfalls and the longer the situation goes on the more jealous and spiteful she gets. She's been caring for Bambi for at least a month now and Bambi's at that age where she mimics what she sees and all Alexia can see in Bambi now is Jenni. The only thing she has to grab onto (proof that Bambi is still her daughter) is that they're biologically related. That and Bambi having Alexia's drive is the only thing Alexia can think of that still gives her a connection to Bambi.

My favourite thing is when you guys pull in the wider context of the previous parts and the little things in the future too. Alexia in Injured is inherently selfish in her parenting style sometimes (it's something she works on in the future though). She is successful in football and she wants the other aspects of her life to be successful too and sometimes she's a bit blinded in her chase for her idea of a perfect family which is slightly what happened with Bambi. She was too busy showing off her perfect new child that she forgot about her other perfect child.

I mentioned it before but being a mother (at least to Bambi at first) didn't come easy to Alexia. She suffered severely from PPD after Bambi's birth and even when she recovered, those feelings (and guilt) were still there implicitly and they definitely come out sometimes when interacting with Bambi. Again, it's something she works on in the future because no matter what Alexia feels that she just can't be a good mother to Bambi sometimes (which is where she admits that Jenni definitely just does it better than her) but on the other hand, she knows she can be a good mother. Alexia wants to be selfish because she knows she can be the mother Bambi deserves but she also knows that she can't be too selfish because Bambi deserves the best chance at life too and that might not be with her.

Jenni would definitely be in some aspects of Bambi's life in Alexia's Version but to a much lesser degree. Her friendship with Alexia in that version never quite heals because she will never get over Alexia not letting her keep Bambi.

At some point in Jenni's Version, they move back to Spain but not immediately. Jenni still has commitments in Mexico and the distance from Spain and Alexia is probably good for Bambi at the moment.

Codi is my underrated fav. Her little badge tap when she lifted the trophy was so sweet. She's such a cutie. Jonas needs to play her more.

My favourites are tulips 💐

#asks #bambi

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woodsdyke · 6 months

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in a shot, i'd swap my body for a body of water worry the cliff side top as a wave crashing over i'd lower the world in a flood, or better yet i'd cause a drought if I was a rip tide, i wouldn't take you out

been slowly picking at this throughout the month, took forever because i was in the process of moving. had a lot of fun with it tho. aveline and johan, really awful as fiancés but great vengeful gay besties. make them regret everything they did to hurt you. go girlies. fuck up their day

(white wasn't customary for weddings in the 18th century but consider: it was for the vibe. ty)

some additional info about these two under the cut because i think about them sooooo much

(tl;dr what if u were two traumatized gay people who had to get married but instead you did crimes that would get you executed by the state, found each other again, now gayer and happier, and became besties who bond over how fucked up your life was and how cool it’d be if the people who hurt you got what they deserved. Wouldn’t that be neat?)

TW discussions of abuse (inc. of children)

Aveline Montclair and Johan Groeneveld both grew up as aristocrats, and have always been godawful at it in new, exciting ways. Aveline is aggressive, stubborn, and prone to lashing out, and her family is unable to find a suitor for her because she’s now stabbed two of them in the hand with a fork (deserved, maybe overkill). Johan is an incredibly reluctant admiral of the dutch royal navy, a kind-hearted, captivatingly anxious man who would much rather be doing a nice artist residency in the countryside right about now.

Their families have a very long history, so ultimately they decide to just marry the two of them off to each other and be done with it. ‘won’t this be an absolute disaster and cause inevitable chaos’ probably. they don’t care.

Their engagement is short-lived but miserable; Aveline despises Johan for taking away the last scrap of freedom she had and trapping her in a life she hates (despite knowing that Johan really didn’t have a say in any of this). Johan resents her because he’s just trying to make the best of a bad situation, while she’s hellbent in making them both miserable.

(we won’t unpack how they both expected unhappiness from the start because the thought of marrying each other made them both feel sick – besties, you are gay. You’ll get there. It’s ok)

To skim over a Lot of things, Aveline runs off with pirates, Johan makes a series of mistakes that lead to him defecting from the navy and going on the run because he knows what will happen if the royal navy finds him. Despite all odds, they run into each other again. It’s a disaster, at first, until they realize some time apart has made a difference, and most importantly helped them realize they’re more alike than they thought. They’re a couple of scared, hurt kids, forced to grow up too fast, who want someone, something to pay for what was done to them. they spent years of their lives at each other’s throats and never stopped to think that maybe there was a bigger enemy to challenge that wasn’t each other.

Turns out when your every move isn’t controlled by your abusers, you can actually make decisions for yourself, and can decide not to ruin your own and someone else’s life over misplaced blame and defensive anger.

turns out if both of you are so intensely repulsed by the thought of being in a heterosexual marriage with anyone, let alone each other, maybe you are gay

and during all of it, they knew. The last thing anyone in the Montclair or Groeneveld families wanted was for Johan and Aveline to realize they’re better friends than enemies. Aveline’s mean, she wants blood on her hands, and Johan has the quiet, relaxed cunning that’s frightening in an angrier man and straight up dangerous in him. They’re a threat as a pair, ironically enough for the people who set them up to tear each other apart so they wouldn’t have to deal with them or acknowledge how badly they fucked up their kids.

Aveline wants to tear into her problems with her teeth. Johan is tired of being fearfully obedient and wants everyone to know it.

things aren’t fully right between them, not really, and won’t be for a very long time – too much history, too much of a lifetime of abuse at the hands of the same people – but things are good between them. one of those once-in-a-lifetime kinds of friendships. Regardless of the outcome, having someone to get angry with, to mourn the loss of a childhood with, to voice those thoughts kept close to their chest on the ways they hope those who hurt them will pay, it’s healing, and right now, they need each other (they always did).

And no matter what happens, if Aveline ever gets the revenge she dreams of, if Johan can have a life well-lived, in spite of being told he was always destined to fail, there’s one thing that won’t change:

Aveline is an only child, Johan is the only surviving Groeneveld son. There’s power in knowing the Montclair and Groeneveld bloodlines end with them.

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buckyismybicycle · 1 year

Text

Title: Miles Away [READ ON AO3] Pairing: Rockstar Bucky Barnes/Female Reader Rating: Explicit Tags: Long Distance Relationship, Mutual Pining, Fingering, Love Confessions, Falling in Love Summary: How am I supposed to be everything they expect me to be? When I feel so alone, 'cause I left my heart at home

This is also for @buckybarnesbingo Flash Bingo K: "Kitten"

«« Part 1 | Part 2 | Series Masterlist | Part 4 (TBD) »

Bucky is the drug in your veins, the electricity that runs through your body. You had no idea how you had managed to fall so fast and so hard for someone, but as Bucky heads into the next state and you head in the opposite direction toward home, you realize just how magnetic he was. It took every ounce of willpower to keep yourself from making that U-turn and driving yourself right back into his arms.

Was it perhaps a little obsessive to download everything of his? Every single album, song, and even remix? Maybe. But his voice is the one that you want to wake up to and the one you fall asleep to. It’s his old school rock songs that you wake up to, that hype you up for the day and his post-hardcore songs that get your blood pumping during a run or get your body swaying as you clean your apartment. It’s his acoustic songs that lull you to sleep, his voice softer than it has any right to be, sweet in your ear.

Even though you call, text, and videocall, there’s a piece of you that craves his physical touch, that yearns for the solid warmth of his body to accompany that sultry voice of his.

He finishes his tour, and his next, and then before you could figure out what hit you, your one-night stand turned two-day stand has bloomed into something you weren’t sure you were ready for.

His next tour is in Europe and it feels like he’s gone for ages before he comes back even though it’s only three weeks. You only get to see him once, before he’s swept away again, back into a recording studio so he can keep doing what he loves, and that’s when you realize you miss him.

Then it’s off to Riot Fest in Chicago for a weekend, which isn’t terribly far and yet it feels hundreds of miles away. He’s supposed to be there in two weeks.

The thought makes you a little weak, but you couldn’t let him catch onto anything. He hadn’t asked for anything more and you knew what the life of a rockstar was like. Hell, they wrote songs about it all the time! Sex, drugs, partying, that was the rock and roll way, right?

Though… Bucky had never exactly been like that when you two spent time together. He’d have an occasional drink, maybe a cigarette, and he turned down invites to go clubbing, choosing to instead spend the night with you. Sometimes, you wouldn’t be doing much of anything and you wonder if he ever felt bored just cuddling up on the couch with you, watching a movie, ordering in. It all seemed pretty mundane now that you thought about it.

“Maybe it’s a little straight-forwad o’ me, doll, but I’d love to see you before I go. Maybe… Stay a few nights?”

You didn’t have to think about it, really. “Of course, Buck! You know I love having you here. But… Well, are you sure you wanna spend your limited days here in my tiny apartment?”

There’s a low chuckle on the other end of the line that makes your stomach flutter. “Sweetheart, there’s no place I would rather be.”

You smile a bit, cheeks warming at his words. “You’re always welcome here, Bucky.”

“Alright, well, we gotta wrap a few things up at the studio in a few days and I gotta pack and all that, but I can be down by… Thursday? Is that too soon?”

It wasn’t soon enough, actually. If you could, you’d have Bucky here right now. Instead, you breathe in for a count or two before responding. “Thursday’s great.”

“Lookin’ forward to it, baby.”

♪♪♪

There really isn’t a need for you to be nervous. Maybe, if you had known who he was before seeing him, or if you had anticipated for even a second you’d see him more than once or twice, it would be a different story. Instead, you had thrown caution to the wind, almost certain you’d never see him again. You answered all his questions without holding back, gave up every secret and detail like it was nothing.

Bucky had done the same, though you weren’t sure if it was due to the same reasons or because Bucky was simply an open book. Always boisterous, always open, you didn’t really see Bucky hide much, if you were honest. The things you could find on the internet about him… Jeez.

But you two kept coming together, time and time again, and by then it already felt like you’d known each other your whole lives.

There was no point trying to think about something else — Bucky consumed your thoughts and you happily let him. Humming along to one of his songs, you cleaned up around your place, picked up groceries and threw yourself into work to put all that pent up energy somewhere.

By the time Thursday rolls around, your skin was tingling with anticipation, as if craving his touch. You could even see a slight tremor in your hands as you prepared dinner some time after you received the text from Bucky saying he was on his way. It would still be two hours before he got here, driving from the next state over.

When the buzzer rang in, you had nearly dropped your phone in the pan. Oh god, Bucky was here!

You checked yourself one last time in the hallway, before unlocking the door, leaving it open a crack, and then cleaning the kitchen up quickly.

“Babe?”

Your heart skips a beat as you go toward the shuffling noises by your door. Despite the fact that you see him all the time — whether it be by video, album covers, or music videos — he still takes your breath away.

He’s dressed simply, in black jeans, a plain white t-shirt and a plain zip-up hoodie under his light jacket but you think he looks perfect.

“Bucky,” you greet as you close the distance.

His clothes and skin are still chilled by the outside, and you shiver in his arms a bit.

“Heya doll,” he murmurs into your cheek before he pulls back and looks you over from head to toe, the same way you’d done to him.

Your cheeks get a bit warm at the focused attention.

“God, I fuckin’ missed you,” Bucky says abruptly, tearing his jacket and sweater off in one go, pressing his lips to yours.

You melt into the kiss, hands coming to cup his face, hands warming his cheeks as he steps out of his shoes and crowds you up against the wall.

“Missed you t — ah!” You don’t get to finish your sentence as Bucky nips at your neck.

“S’that right?” Bucky asks voice gruff and teasing in your ear.

You nod frantically, hands scrabbling at his shoulders while he presses his entire body against yours. Goosebumps form across your skin when he gets his hands under your shirt, partially from the fact he’d just come outside but mostly because you’ve been dreaming of his touch ever since you last saw him.

“Bucky,” you gasp against his mouth.

“Oh fuck, yeah,” Bucky groans, running out of patience and scooping you up by the back of your legs. “Love when you say my name, baby.”

Your legs automatically wrap around his waist, your hands running through his soft chestnut hair and wrapping around the back of his neck. He doesn’t seem to be in any rush whatsoever, his tongue slow but firm across yours as you both pant for air, hot breath across your cheeks with every struggling exhale.

“Bucky,” you say again, this time breathless, as you squeeze your legs around him.

“Mmm? Can I help you with something, kitten?”

You can’t help the sharp inhale of breath, your heartrate picking up speed as he pins you with his intense gaze.

You’re already feeling dizzy, words getting harder to formulate so you try to answer with your mouth and body. Tugging at his hair and pressing back against him, you hope it conveys exactly what it is you want — and just how badly you want it.

“Missed me that much, huh?” He asks with a chuckle, finally carrying you to the bedroom.

You nod frantically. “God, yes, yes, missed you so much.”

He laughs and you can’t help but return it, the both of you fumbling your clothes off in a hurry, limbs getting caught as you try to tear the fabric off of each other.

When he lowers you into bed, your entire body is heaving with anticipation as you dig your fingers into him, refusing to let him go.

Bucky kisses down your neck softly, slowly like he hasn’t a care in the world while you were a squirming mess underneath him. You feel goosebumps forming as he breathes out hotly along the trail his tongue leaves behind. It feels like he’s mapping out every spot that makes you howl and filing it away for later, smirking as he breaks you down bit by bit.

“Fuck, Bucky!” You wail, curling his fingers into fists along his shoulder.

“Yes, kitten?”

Oh, you could just kill him right now! He knows exactly what he’s doing, of course, and you know that. You know that he’s purposely teasing you without giving you much, knows that he’s practically purring in your ear, all the sweet nothings and pet names to get you riled up.

“How’m I supposed to know what you wan’ if you can’t even tell me, sugar?” He continues, fingers finally entering you, the slick making it so, so easy. “Jesus, sweetheart, already so wet for me and I only jus’ started.”

You clench around him in every sense of the word — pussy clamping down around his fingers, legs locked tight around his waist.

“Aw, sweetheart, y’gonna come already?” Bucky asks, fingers slowly curling inside of you while his thumb runs over your clit from left to right slowly. “I haven’t even put my mouth on you…”

You let out a loud whine, our hands tugging at Bucky’s hair hard enough that you’re sure it must hurt but he doesn’t give any indication of it. “Bucky, please, I c-can’t —”

The rest of it gets lost in a moan that gives away the fact that you’re right there.

“Can’t what, princess?” Bucky mocks. “Can’t even speak, can you?”

You can’t bring yourself to care even the slightest bit about Bucky’s goading, the feeling overwhelming your entire body as you dig in while you come hard enough that you could swear you blacked out for a moment.

It’s like being underwater, the sounds muffled in your ears — Bucky’s chuckle, drowned out by your fevered panting, your heartbeat.

“Nnnnggggg,” you groan, limbs heavy and uncoordinated as you essentially become one with the mattress.

Bucky’s smug face looks up at you while he kisses below your belly button as your stomach and chest still heave for air. “You okay there, doll?”

“Oh, fuck you,” you huff out, laughing along with Bucky as he crawls back up to kiss you.

“Mmm,” Bucky murmurs between your lips meeting.”Wanna fuck you.”

Even if you had just come, it’s like Bucky’s words ignite your body all over again. You smile dopily at him, hands cradling his face and running your thumbs along his stubble. “Yeah? Well what’re you waiting for?”

Bucky’s responding grin sends shivers down your spine again. Settling in, hauling your hips up until your ass rested on the top of his thighs, he licks his lips like a panther with its prey.

♪♪♪

You wake before Bucky does, your body pleasantly sore and still tired. With a small wiggle, you settle back into his arms, taking the time to just enjoy the moment and memorizing it. You let him sleep a bit longer, knowing he has a long night ahead, though it’s not like you could pull yourself away if you wanted. There was only an hour left with him, so you had to make the most of it and look over every detail in front of you.

It was so easy to imagine that this was your actual life — waking up beside this beautiful man, sharing more than just your bed with him. Your home. Your heart.

You trace a light finger along that sharp jawline and Bucky inhales deeply as he rouses.

“Mornin’, beautiful,” he mumbles, eyes slowly blinking open.

“Good morning,” you whisper,. “It’s almost 10:00.”

“M’gonna miss you, dollface,” Bucky whispers, voice raspy with sleep and — well, maybe it was more than just sleep.

“Pfft, yeah right,” you tease. “Girls are gonna fling themselves at your feet and you’ll have your pick of any one of ‘em.”

You had tried to keep the tone light — joking — but it obviously doesn’t quite work.

Bucky gets a little furrow between his eyebrows as he props himself up on an elbow to look down at you, searching your face for something. “Is that actually what you’re thinkin’?”

You opened your mouth to respond but nothing came out. It was the truth, but you hadn’t planned on sounding so pathetic. Sighing, you tuck the covers under your chin as you look up at him. God, you’d miss this face — the stunning eyes, that little dimple in his chin, the way his hair looks when your fingers have been running through it, gripping it, pulling it.

“Bucky… I knew when you first kissed me that you wouldn’t be staying.” God, it even hurts just to say it out loud. “You’re — you’re literally famous. You’re a rockstar! I’m —”

“— mine,” he finishes, interrupting you. “You’re mine.”

You bite your tongue, because he’s about to hit the road and you don’t want your last moments with him to be about this. About the way your stomach flutters when he says that you’re his so adamantly, like he doesn’t say it to the other girls you’re sure he’s picking up along the tours.

“Hey, c’mon,” Bucky coaxes, a gentle finger crooked under your chin to make you face him. His brows are furrowed as he looks at you. “What are you goin’ on about, huh?”

It’s painful to even think about it — letting yourself believe that maybe this meant as much to him as it meant to you, but it was impossible, wasn’t it?

“Nothing,” you lie. “I just miss you sometimes, that’s all.”

He snorts with a short laugh. “Babe, I miss you all the time.”

Looking you in the eyes, he props himself up on elbow, his other hand stroking your jaw lightly. “You know, I never thought I’d hate touring but sometimes… I just wish I could stay here instead.”

“Oh my god, don’t say that!” You admonish, a strange feeling working its way up your throat. “You’ve said it yourself, you were born for this! Bucky, you really, really are so talented. You were made for this. I still remember seeing you on stage for the first time, I’ll never forget it. I felt so alive, Bucky. Better than I had in ages. I felt free — like I was flying and… Everyone out there should experience that, too. They need to.”

“I ever mention how fuckin’ incredible you are?” Bucky asks, his eyes a bright, shining blue. It’s not often that you’re the one making him bashful, but it feels damn good. It’s not like you had even tried to, you had simply been telling him the truth. “I — you know I’m just a phone call away, right?”

“I know.” You try smiling for his benefit before pulling him in for a kiss that hopefully distracts him.

Whatever Bucky might’ve said gets lost as he tangles his fingers in your hair again, bringing you close to him. It turns from a leisurely kiss into something more frantic, like you both know that there’s an impending deadline. Needless to say, your distraction works.

In fact, it works a little too well. He shoves his feet into his boots, phone wedged between his ear and shoulder as he tries to explain to Natasha that he’ll be right there and no, of course he’s not going to be late.

You try to hide a giggle as he throws the last of his things haphazardly in his bag and hangs up.

When it comes time to your goodbyes, you hug each other tightly. Bucky smells like you, like your sheets and your shampoo, he even smells like your lotion with how much time you’ve spent pressed up against him.

God, is it ever difficult for you to let him go. Something must show on your face because as Bucky’s about to say goodbye, his face falls for a second.

“Sweetheart —”

“No! No, it’s okay,” you rush to reassure him. “Really, baby, I’ll be fine. It’s nothing.”

You can see he’s not entirely convinced, but it’s enough that he relents and gives you a long, sweet goodbye kiss.

“See you when I get back?”

You nod without thinking. “Yeah, of course.”

♪♪♪

“What’s wrong with your face?” Nat asks him the moment he scrambles onto their bus and throws his bag on his bunk.

“Fuck you, my face is perfectly fine,” he shoots back, though there’s no real heat to it.

“Ooooooh,” she taunts with a wicked grin. “Someone’s in loooooooove.”

“N — shut up!”

He’s clearly outnumbered when Clint laughs from the small couch and Scott howls from the bathroom of all places. What the fuck is his life.

Natasha takes some pity on him, at least. Because she leans in close before she whispers to him with a wink. “That’s not a no.”

He hates the way she catches onto everything. It’s true, though, it’s not a no. Truthfully, Bucky’s not really sure what love is. Despite singing an inordinate amount of love songs, he’s never felt it as deep in his bones as he does now. All the songs from their albums were different now — all the lyrics that spoke of love, the lyrics that Bucky never thought he would connect to like the rest, they made sense now.

He takes out his worn, trusted and beloved journal, and puts pen to paper, his thoughts flowing out of him like a tsunami. His words fill up the blank spaces between his various other scribbles and doodles.

♪♪♪

You lay on your couch, Netflix playing at a low volume as you try to unwind from the day. Besides immediately taking off your work clothes and microwaving some dinner to settle in, you hadn’t done much else. Except miss Bucky, of course, which made you feel so pathetic. God, it’s only been a day.

When your phone goes off, you get a thrill of excitement before you realize that there’s no way it could be Bucky, he’d be performing any minute now. The name that pops up surprises you nonetheless, and you pick it up wondering if it was good news or bad news.

“Peter?”

“Oh, hi! Um, Bucky wanted me to call you and — are you busy right now?”

You stared at the TV playing nonsense you weren’t even paying any attention to. “No, I’m not busy, just — is everything okay?”

“Uh-huh, yeah! Great. They’re technically done but they’re doing one more encore song and it’s gonna be real special. He wanted you to watch! Can I FaceTime you?”

“Yes! Of course!” You didn’t do a good job of hiding how enthusiastic you were about the fact that you could see Bucky again so soon.

“Okay, hang on —”

The moment you accept his videocall request, you gasp. The crowd in front of Bucky’s stage was huge! You were so happy for him — for the whole band, really. They deserved to be heard and recognized.

There was Bucky, front and centre stage like usual. Except this time, the rest of the band wasn’t with him.

“Can you see okay?”

You giggle at Peter’s concerned, faraway voice and holler back at him. “Yep, I’m good!”

“Tonight I’m doin’ somethin’ a lil different,” Bucky says into the microphone as he adjusts the strap of his acoustic guitar over his shoulder. “It’s been a while since I brought out ol’ Betsy for you guys, huh?”

The crowd gives a laugh as Bucky tunes “Betsy” expertly, pulling the microphone closer to him. “You better feel lucky, ‘cause you’re gonna be the first ones to hear this. Are you ready?”

The cheer from the crowd is nearly a screech, whistles and catcalls mixed in.

A new song? How exciting! You wonder if this is why Bucky wanted you to be on the call, and smiled at how sweet that was.

“This one’s for a special angel of mine,” Bucky declares before he strums away, the opening notes slow but sure.

Special angel — no, it can’t be…

I pack my bags and say goodbye to my divine

For what seems like the millionth time

They said it gets easier, but they lied

She looks at me and says "Really baby, I will be just fine"

But then she looks away, so I don't have to see her cry

And that is when I ask myself

You freeze, hearing the exact words you’d said to him that morning. There couldn’t be a coincidence — Peter had very specifically called you, which meant that this was for you. That you were “angel” that Bucky was dedicating this song to.

How am I supposed to be everything they expect me to be?

When I feel so alone, 'cause I left my heart at home

She needs me, but I know they need me too

So God, give me the strength to do what you created me to do.

Well really I'm so thankful for the people I meet, the places I've been and the things I've seen

But when she's not here it doesn't feel like I'm living my dreams

I know they say that no one is perfect, but I swear she's perfect for me

And that makes it so much harder to leave

You’ve already started crying from the indescribable feeling that washes over you. Perfect for me — Bucky had just said that! You were in disbelief, and despite how sad the song sounded, it was also breathtakingly beautiful, just like everything else Bucky does.

How am I supposed to be everything they expect me to be?

When I feel so alone, 'cause I left my heart at home

She needs me, but I know they need me too

So God, give me the strength to do what you created me to do

People say things like “music saved my life” or “music is my escape” and you always thought you understood what they meant. You enjoyed music too and almost always had some playing in the background no matter what you were doing.

You were so very wrong. This feeling, this sizzling, bubbling, tingling sensation that you can feel from head to toe is what it means to truly be moved by music. Like arrows, each one of Bucky’s words drive straight through your heart, sharp and unrelenting. You have to cover your mouth to stop yourself from making too much noise, desperate to hear the rest of the song.

If you miss me, I'm just a phone call away

Please be strong, be strong for me

I need you to show me how to change the inside of me

For my heart, for their sake, please be strong, be strong for me

Everything was blurry by now, the tears trickling down your cheeks as you hear his words — and yours — being played for hundreds of people live.

How am I supposed to be everything they expect me to be?

When I feel so alone, so alone

How am I supposed to be everything they expect me to be?

When I feel so alone, 'cause I left my heart at home

She needs me, but I know they need me too

So God, give me the strength to do what you created me to do.

You couldn’t believe it was over. The shock and the overwhelming feeling that you can’t quite place literally make you freeze in your spot, biting down on your lip to try and hold it together.

“And that’s all she wrote, folks! Well. That’s all I wrote, anyway. GOOD-FUCKING-NIGHT E’ERYBODYYYYY! WE LOVE YOU”

Love. The word sends a jolt through you as it all falls into place for you. You loved him and you just couldn’t admit it to yourself but it’s oh so clear to you now.

The applause was like lightning, cheers and howls mixed in as Bucky exited the stage, and the moment you could no longer see him, the first sob escapes you. There’s a shuffling noise, reminding you that you were still on a call with Peter and not up in the clouds where Bucky makes you feel like you are.

“Are you —”

“Hey, Peter, I gotta go!” You blurt out frantically. “Will you tell Bucky to call me later please?”

“Oh! Um, yeah, sure I can do that.”

“Thanks Peter,” you rush. “Goodnight!”

You only feel a little bad for hanging up on him, but you’d just have to apologize next time. Right now? Right now you had to bawl your eyes out at the fact that Bucky wrote a song for you. And not just a song for you, but a song about you, where he called you “his divine” and “his heart”.

All this time, you let your fears and insecurities get in the way, so convinced that Bucky wasn’t looking for anything more than an easy hook-up. How could you have been so blind?

You don’t know how long it is after the set is done before your phone rings again, and this time it’s Bucky’s name that flashes across your phone.

“Bucky, what the HELL!” You yell as soon as you hear the call connect, not even giving him a chance to say hello.

“Hi to you too, dollface.”

You can hear the smirk on the other end. “I can’t believe you!”

“Can’t believe what, babe? That I wrote a song for you? I always said I was gonna didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but —”

It’s true. He had always said that, but you hadn’t taken it seriously for even a second. “But I didn’t expect that!”

“Did you like it?”

“I loved it,” you tell him earnestly, voice cracking a bit as you get emotional all over again. “I loved it so much. I —”

You had almost let it slip right then and there. Heart pounding, you have to physically swallow the words down.

“Good,” Bucky says, nonchalant as if you weren’t on the cusp of a love confession. “I practically wrote it non-stop on my way here from your place. Wasn’t sure if it’d be any good to be honest with ya, only sang it once on the bus for the troops and they like fuckin’ with me. You promise you actually liked it and you’re not tryna make me feel better? ‘Cause y’know, I can always rework it and —”

“I love you,” you interrupt. It was just too much to handle, how endearing it all was that Bucky not only wrote this ode to you but he was even worried if you liked it, which was such a silly thought because you loved everything Bucky did.

“... You do?” Bucky asks, sounding adorably confused.

You grimace at yourself — what the hell ere you doing! “Sorry, sorry. I just — I don’t know I had to say it, Buck. That song was…. I’m —”

It was his turn to cut you off now, saving you from further rambling and embarrassment.

“I love you, too.”

You smile so wide that your cheeks hurt. Between the two of you and your newfound words for each other, you happily chat as you both get ready for the night. So absorbed in your conversation, both of you miss the social media storm until it’s far too late.

Thank you to @rookthorne as always for your support, encouragement and second set of eyes. This series exists because of you, sweetheart! 💕

#collab fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #rockstar!AU #your own star on hollywood boulevard #bucky barnes series

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siren-of-agony · 3 months

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Still not over that awesome possessive whumper piece of yours so here's another one . A whumper has let their whumpee be free for some time for whatever reason , but oh no they aren't able to reach them . They barge into whumpee's house and no sign of whumpee. Did another whumper take them perhaps 👀👀👀

Hi! It’s been 2 years since I got this request and I have now accepted that I will never actually write it-write it. But I need you to know that back when I got this ask, I spent multiple hours being incredibly unhinged w my love @for-the-love-of-angst and outlined this whole thing. So I‘m very sorry you’ll never get the full thing, here is what we had planned, a bit cleaned up

There are honestly no warnings because this is a literal Hallmark movie. Well, maybe pet whump if you squint very hard?

A Christmas Reunion

Establishing shot. A McMansion, absolutely decked out in kitsch christmas decoration. Snow is drifting lazily in front of a big window we zoom in toward. Through it, we enter a large living room, warm and cozy, with large couches in a u-formation. On the sides sit people of every age, including some children. On the middle couch, an old couple, maybe in their seventies, close together, holding hands, smiling at their family. At their feet, a person not much younger, their hands and ankles bound in what looks like Christmas wreaths. They seem annoyed. Child 1: Grandpa, Grandpa, will you tell us the story again? Of how Cinnamon saved Christmas and this family?

Grandpa Henry: Oh but I’ve told that every year, isn’t it getting boring?

Grandma Violet: I was there and I still want to hear it again! It’s a great story, Henry, love, let's not break tradition!

GH: All right, fine, fine. There was a time when my Violet and I didn’t get along quite as well as we do now-adays. We had been married for a few years, but we were fighting so often. We had made the decision to maybe spend some time apart, but couldn’t quite agree who our lovely Cinnamon would spend their time with.

We focus on GH free hand, reaching towards the hair of the person sitting in front of him. We see Cinnamon’s hair being pet, the annoyed expression on their face. A dreamlike rippling filter across the picture. We are entering a

FLASHBACK Another, slightly smaller McMansion. Movers are carrying boxes and furniture outside. A car drives up, parks haphazardly, and a Young Henry gets out, in a business suit, with a business bag, business hair. We understand: YH works too much and is never home. He is important in the field of business.

He runs towards the house and stops one of the movers.

YH: What are you doing in my house? With my furniture?

Mover: Your ex-wife gave us the official court documents. You should have gotten them, too. Didn’t your lawyer contact you to inform you we’d come over today?

YH curses. His lawyer had tried to call him, but he’d been too busy doing business.

YH enters his house. He ignores his stuff being carried out, making his way directly to a door with a small window, but he starts to unlock it without looking through. With a start, he realizes the door is unlocked already. He steps through the door. We see a nice room, cozily decorated. The big window has no unlocking mechanism. From the inside, the door has no handle, only a keyhole. YH looks around frantically. The room is empty. He unlocks his phone and calls somebody.

YH: Violet, you bitch! Where’s Cinnamon?

YV: Don’t talk to me like that! What do you mean?

YH: Where. Is. Cinnamon. I bought you another house, I gave you money, I gave you all my furniture. I get to keep Cinnamon! The court agreed!

YV: But I didn’t agree! And anyway, I don’t have Cinnamon! Are you telling me you already lost our precious darling? I told you you spent too much time at work to care for them!

YH: If you don’t have them, where are they? Their room is empty!

YV: You’re useless. I’m coming over. Search through Cinnamons room, maybe they’re just hiding. They must have gotten scared with all these changes.

YV hangs up. YH starts checking behind the curtains, under furniture. On the bed, almost covered by a pillow, he finds a note. He reads it out, as if he knows he’s in a movie and people might not be watching the screen

YH: ‘You’ve ruined my business deal with your smart business decisions and your wife’s gossiping revealing my affair. From the published court proceedings I know what you fought most about and I’ve decided to take it and destroy it, just how you destroyed my life. Getting them in that box wasn’t easy, but carrying it out, dressed as a mover. I will fit right in. You will never see your precious Cinnamon again.’

YH curses again, running to the door, where he sees YV already running towards him

[Here we enter the part I had never fully planned out, but imagine a full on heist movie with this divorced couple trying to rescue their pet from a sadistic Whumper and falling in love with each other all over again.]

They stand back in their McMansion, empty except for the twig of mistletoe above them, a young Cinnamon still bound and gagged and slightly bloody sitting on the floor between them. They kiss passionately. The camera pans down to YC’s face. We recognize the annoyed expression. Ripple effect - FLASHBACK ENDS

We’re back in the living room from the first scene

GH: And that’s how we saved Cinnamon and Cinnamon saved us!

Old Cinnamon: I hate you all.

GV: It did break our heart, of course, when we told Cinnamon they could wish for anything they wanted for surviving such an ordeal, and instead of maybe a cozier couch, they wanted a bit more freedom, but who are we to go back on our word.

OC: I told you I wanted you to leave me the fuck alone.

GH: And we do, almost always, do we not! We understand that even family spends some time apart, but the holidays are a time to get together!

OC: You really don’t need to abduct me every year, though. Do you know how embarrassing it is if someone asks you to come over for Christmas and you have to be like “Nah, I’m going to get abducted again.”

Everyone laughs heartily. Cinnamon is struggling against their bonds.

OC: Also, how often do I have to tell you that I go by Monroe now?

GV: Oh sweetheart, you'll always be our little Cinnamon. Now stop struggling against, you'll just hurt yourself again, and you'll have to cut the roast later!

OC: I’ll cut you.

GV: Cinnamon, Christmas is the holiday of LOVE!

OC: That’s Valentine’s day, you dumb fuck.

The camera starts moving back, through the window we first entered through. We exit the McMansion, still shining in warm light, vague Christmas conversation audio going on. The snow falls heavier. The last shot is a person from behind, we see their gray hair and recognize the sadistic Whumpers favourite Christmas sweater. In their hand, a knife

~FIN~

#whump #whump prompt #whump writing #whump request #whumblr #considering i was like oh no i never finished this i am aware i wrote a lot :D #well consider this an apology for it taking literally two years #also i really don't know if this even counts even remotely as whump but consider this #it brought me joy to write so i think it should count #also vee looking through our old chat for this made me laugh so much #and than you again for the names and the help back then #like at least half of the ideas in this come from vee including that absolute slapper of cinnamon's last line #that's valentine's day you dumb fuck still makes me giggle

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unhappytimeleaper · 2 years

Text

Hello, can I request Shu × reader from that yandere alphabet prompt, um, oh can you write it using Shu's name the letter S, H, U and have a great day.

Original request from anonymous

Word Count: 3,100+

Shu is awful. I love him. One of my top ten characters. Anyway yeah, I’m still taking request for the yandere alphabet [mainly for enstars but other fandoms are fine too]. Anyway, as a note, I won’t specify what job ‘mc’ for this is working but it’s meant to imply they are apart of staff in some way. If you want to imagine them in the place of Anzu, you can, but I don’t want to intend it to be that’s the only way. I personally prefer the idea that you work along side Anzu as a friend/co-worker for a few different reasons, but if you don’t want that just see it as you wish since it’s never clarified.

Also, I’m not sure if they are comfortable with me mentioning them by name but I wanna thank my friend for encouraging and reading this beforehand. You know who you are.

Itsuki Shu; unedited. Gender neutral reader.

Warnings; yandere content, isolation, stalking, and slight violence.

This blog is 17+ please have your age in your bio or tagged; any ageless blog and below the age asked for will be blocked at the end of the week.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them?

The general answer is childhood. Pretty much, all of his issues extend from being rooted in his childhood and the way he was treated by his parents, kids his age, and later on as a creator. It’s also deeply ingrained in his sense of superiority and creating the perfect image of art. More than that, it’s Shu’s way of filling the loneliness and fears he experiences, because despite his arrogant and harsh nature, Shu seems to be deeply haunted by his past. We also know by the way he speaks to Nito and sometimes Mika there is a comfortability in seeing people as possessions, it’s a way of securing the fantasy of how his life is in his mind into reality which eventually translates into his relationships.

Now more into specifics. What brought this onto you and not someone else. To start, it really is a piece of separating his life into different parts. After the downfall of Valkyrie and Shu having to pick up the pieces of his mental state, he learned to let go of those in the group to be human. To be their own people, but this also is what taught him how to be better in the sense of never having to feel this level of loss again. I explain it a little more below, but being with Shu doesn’t come fast, rather gaining the trust and friendship of Shu takes a long time. You chose to stick by Shu’s side and often by his terms the entire time. You seeked to understand him and often do things his way. This isn’t to say he controls you entirely during your friendship; it’s not like in the past with Valkyrie where you simply give in as it’s easier, but more often than not, you learn to understand his actions and approaches to life. This accumulates in when hanging/helping out with Shu, you try to do things in a way that suit his needs.

Furthermore, supporting him in general is something that greatly influences his attachment. Knowing he doesn’t understand technology so going out of the way to write letters to him while he’s in France, supporting his designs/hobbies, and extending kindness to what he continues to do in the future. It’s the little things of knowing that Shu truly has someone who stands up and cares for the things he does that draws him in. The problems would start when Shu manages to break from his bubbled view of the world he has with you and see that there is more. You don’t only treat him this way but everyone you work with. That there are other idols and people ready to take away the affection you directed to him– the attention you give to him. You let other people touch you and listen to their fashion advice. That when you aren’t in the craft room working on your own projects as he sews, you're off with god knows who doing god knows what. It’s hard to say that you won’t become like others– notice his flaws and eventually abandon him like the others.

That’s when everything comes back around, the emotions of loss and fear. That you’ll do what humans do and become corrupted, with Shu [+ Mademoiselle] left to pick up the pieces of his mind and heart. It does slowly make Shu more overbearing and possessive; if he’s around, he tends to constantly be popping up to drag you off with him for whatever task he can think of. He gets the help of Mika to ensure he knows where you were or who you were with, as well as Mika becoming a very unscary guard dog to keep strangers away. His comments, once threats to hurt you from intruding on his space or time turns into threats of others, that you need to be watched and kept away so they can’t ruin your opinions on him.

Eventually, things become a snowball effect– he finds it hard to even work on projects without you in mind. If it’s not about random aspects to you as inspiration its about who you are with, what you are doing, where you are, how you are. There never was a specific thing you said or did differently. You can spend all your time racking your brain at what you could have done differently to have kept Shu in a normal state of mind, but there will never be an answer. Guess the biggest hint you can find would be the days Shu sketch designs all focused on one person– although it will be hard to gain access to those sketchbooks.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

I’d personally say the aftermath of when Shu first acts on a threat of physical violence, even more, how it plays out after. Part of this would come from a few angles as to why it’s one of the worst— although compared to many other yandere’s, it’s probably hard to label the worst as Shu would be decently unbearable the majority of the time. For one, I think even something like this would come as a shock to Shu partly as it’s known he’s quite weak, even he is aware of this and has to rely on other skills of his to keep you in check most of the time. Also, while often giving very horrendous threats of violence to you [far before Shu started his romantic exploitations], no one has taken him seriously as he mostly says these comments in passing frustration. Even you likely wouldn’t take him seriously, given that getting close to him in the first place would require becoming accustomed to his ‘colorful’ language. Beyond the pinch of an ear or dragging you somewhere by the wrist, nothing had ever caused harm past a few hours.

Finally, the last reason is due to the complex nature Shu likely holds. On one hand, he’s moved on from the people are dolls aspect he once held, but as a muse, you still have to be treated with the perfect care of an antique. Violence is something he often wouldn’t want to consider, never wanting to damage you. After all, it’s likely a huge factor as to why you’ve been locked up. But you already appeared so full of marks and scars… while he’s helped make them fade to match the beauty you should exhibit, he doesn’t want to leave anymore on you. Just like the treatment of Mademoiselle, Shu touches you often with the most delicate ways and often gets extremely worked up if someone goes to even brush some lint off your outfit. Yet he couldn’t help it! Perhaps you were going on about something after a few warnings or making some sort of escape attempt. He really didn’t mean to push you down so hard, but the frustration he usually keeps inside managed to boil over and your footing. It’s nothing extreme, a small twist of your ankle and your wrists hurt from the attempt to break the fall, but enough to bring tears to your eyes.

One of the biggest things that would have to become part of the routine is understanding how Mademoiselle functions between the two of you. Despite playing the role of a lover to Shu in this state, it’s rare that his softness will leak through, and he keeps himself quite guarded— something present throughout the entirety of the time you’ve known him. It’s not that he doesn’t have moments where he acts and treats you like a significant other, and over time he becomes much more comfortable. Still, overall it’s obvious Shu has always struggled to communicate more positive/caring things to those around him. Nevertheless, you often do understand Shu’s true feelings through the conversations you have with Mademoiselle. Unlike how many others portray Shu as not needing Mademoiselle as his obsession grows, I don’t think her presence ever disappears entirely because of how his connection with her is built. There will always be fluctuations of her around as Shu’s mental state shifts; you can often tell if it’s worse if Madem is around more (giving hints on when it’s better to not cause issues, less you want life to get a lot worse). Mademoiselle knows Shu better than anyone else, but for the sake of understanding, she isn’t Shu alone— her own personality who is kind to you and a mediator of his emotions. She lets you in on his feelings (wing-doll of the year), extends kindness, offers moments of advice, although most aren’t very helpful as most tend to just be giving into Shu’s whims, and if you’ve been under Shu’s lockdown information about the outside world.

Shu’s anger and fear would likely still be running high in the heat of the moment. He’d turn around and promptly leave the room, shutting the door behind him. In the aftermath of the shock, you’d be left to pick yourself up and hobble into the bathroom to wrap up the injury and, if lucky, perhaps see if you could find some pain killers [whether or not you find them is questionable]. It wouldn’t be for a few more hours that you’d hear the door open and Shu slinks into the apartment. Not in the mood to talk given that issues from earlier would likely still be extremely sensitive, and being hurt was something that came as a surprise. It wouldn’t be until you felt the bed sink a little more as Shu sits next to you. Mademoiselle stares at you; she apologizes for Shu, saying you might not forgive him right this minute but Shu really didn’t mean to hurt you. He just was startled, and you’ve seen how he can be with intense emotions and doesn’t like it when people overrun their mouths. Just give it time. You’ll come around and remember the person Shu genuinely is. The Shu who was your friend. While you understand what she is trying to do— what she represents— it twists the knife deeper into the memories of when you did consider Shu a friend; now, it feels mocking. Like a mother scolding two kids who got into a fight on the playground or over a toy, that the situation can just be fixed with a mutual apology.

It hurts more that Shu would just scoff; you deserved to be punished, didn’t you? It’s the only way you’ll learn! You should be lucky he did something so simple— he could have done something far worse. Mademoiselle has heard it all, the things he’s threatened, so she should know. Despite everything, you can see on his face the remorse if you look hard enough. It’s something the average person probably wouldn’t notice, but after so much time with Shu, you can tell deep down hurting you was never a part of the plan. The rest of the night is spent in silence from both of you, stuck wallowing in the misery of you trapped in this life and Shu not knowing how to make it back to how it was before while keeping you protected in his fantasy.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

One of the main things would be how long it all takes for this to go down. See, you have some yandere’s who move too fast, or you have others where it feels like a sudden snap. Even with some, it feels like it’s progressing in a very normal way. With Shu, it takes an extremely long time for everything to reach its peak. In fact, this is what makes it so hard to avoid— so many of the warning signs would be brushed off as “that’s just his personality.” The fact is they aren’t wrong either; everyone would be semi-used to his creepy, threatening comments especially knowing how Nito was treated yet it’s never been something he’s acted on so it really feels like harmless Shu being his eccentric self. Eventually, you would get used to it as well because of how long it seemed to take for Shu to reach the point where he feels he needs the relationship. It takes months to even get Shu to really even acknowledge you, maybe having a few conversations with Mademoiselle in the time being while Shu himself spends most of those insulting you.

Progressing a ‘friendship’ with Mademoiselle actually would be the ticket to getting closer with Shu as well. And at the pace of a snail, that’s how it starts. It’d likely starts with passing conversations where he’s still quite hostile but enough to actually gather some information on him, to a more casual discussion, walking with him to the cafes to get a croissant, only to have him begin to seek you out. Reasons would be to have another set of eyes on his practice [a stopwatch is good timing down to the second, but nothing can combat the feedback from someone else], to want to eat his meals with you, even getting to enjoy your presence while he works on projects. Another consideration as to why this would take so long is because Shu constantly is going between Paris and Japan; until he’s decided you need to be kept from the world, Shu doesn’t necessarily bother with taking you with him. Once having what can only be seen as tsundere like friendship, you might hear from Shu more often with calls, something you never would expect given Shu’s rough relationship with technology. Or him seemingly coming to you for general information like how to work the computer, which leads to trying to get FaceTime to work and Shu seems to become obsessed with that form of communication. All of this ends up being an extremely long process where if Shu wasn’t as messed up as he is, it likely could have progressed into a normal relationship if he had just talked to you.

One of the biggest things would be how everything with Shu is a walking contradiction. You’d probably be let on early into a friendship that most things would be difficult with Shu given how he naturally is, but love only seems to make it worse. It goes from the basic hot and cold nature of his personality, from constantly showing praise on how you’re his muse, his inspiration– but still holds his sharp tongue in his remarks that come off as insulting. To how he throws himself into work for hours, barely giving you a hint of attention due to focus he has yet doesn’t want you gone from his sight for even a second. How he claims he knows you’re real, you aren’t a doll or item but treats you delicately enough in how you can't do anything without him, something for him to dress up, and will be dirtied by people if they get their hands on you.

Even to the little things. Shu doesn’t necessarily like to be touched, and if you often make the first move, might be startled; however, he always seems to want to have his hands on you in one way or another. Often just to fix something but also as a sign of possession-- something like cuddling late at night or having you sit on his lap while he’s working on more simple projects. Probably the most ironic and funniest to tease him about more simple concepts. Something like how Shu doesn’t understand the appeal of swimwear or fancy undergarments— yet he’s the one always trying to undress you and feel under your clothes for his designs. Or as high and mighty as Shu is, often being taken down by simple technology having to come to you for help despite not wanting you to have access to such. This is all just the start, listing out every other contradiction could take forever. Either way, if you’re not worried about making him upset and making your day worse with his mood, you’re stuck doing cartwheels to understand precisely what he wants now things are ‘furthering in a relationship.’ At some point you probably are mentally exhausted enough you don’t have energy to be physically resistant to his poking and prodding while working.

Lastly, there is one big difference, and that’s how freedom works. It’s very fast into this idea of Shu seeing you as more of a partner and muse that he needs to keep isolated, but also not something Shuu can do easily compared to many other yanderes. In general, being an idol makes it challenging but he moves around so much as it is Shu doesn’t want to just leave you in the apartment alone… or with Mika necessarily. It’s not even the lack of trust in Mika either, although it’s not like he’d be able to babysit you 24/7, giving you plenty of time of time to disappear if you tried. Mind that Shu knows you’re not quite the same as Mademoiselle, but you eventually become a sense of comfort in the same way. Inspiration, a muse for his craft but also a way to relax with the stress that comes from his daily life, we already know how intense Shu is, and he probably calms down a good 2% with you around. So lucky you! You’ll end up being stuck going with Shu wherever he goes.

Holed out in the crafting club making outfits for a performance, that’s your room for the next few days. Although, be aware you’re expected to not leave the room even if Shu has to leave for a few hours to pick something up for his work [or is hungry enough to need something to eat though he’ll make sure to bring something back for you]. Better get used to traveling as you’ll be going from France to Japan quite frequently. However, despite not being fully chained and locked up in a room, that doesn’t give you much freedom. If you aren’t playing ‘dress up’ for Shu, you’re often stuck in the corner or next to him holding Mademoiselle and left to your own tasks. Usually there won’t be much to do, perhaps reading or drawing, or some other hand-held craft, given that you aren’t allowed to have access to a phone/tv nor talk to anyone. Well, unless you want to face Shu’s anger which no one really wants, it seems everyone knows to simply avoid trying to start a conversation [if they even could get close enough]. It’s incredibly isolating, but somehow hurts even more given that you are left watching the world move past you without being a part of it anymore, given the tight leash Shu has. After all, he has had a lot of time to think about how to keep you from breaking or straying too far with the downfall of Valkyrie in the past. Guess one good did come from that experience.

#enstars.leaps #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere writing #yandere enstars #yandere ensemble stars #ensemble stars #enstars x reader #yandere shu #yandere shu itsuki #shu itsuki #tw; yandere #tw; isolation #tw; stalking

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jungk0oksthighs · 2 years

Note

Why was the sweet bride's mother one of the worst people you've ever met? (Love a good storytime!)

okay! this is going to be long i’m sorry in advance! so the bride (stunning, ethereal, heavenly personality just a gift to earth tbh) is disabled, i’m unsure of details of her disability as i didn’t ask but she has a specialised wheelchair, one that she controls with a little joystick and it was made clear throughout the time i spend there that she had very limited mobility and is bound to said wheelchair. anyway, the bridesmaids had helped her into her dress before me and the hairdresser arrived so that she wouldn’t mess her hair or makeup off pulling it over her head (stunning dress btw 10/10) so she was already “ready” when i got there, her hair was in the process of being done as i pulled up.

when i got there at first her mum was like hi hello thank u a few mua’s turned this down (i had to go to her home which was an hour drive, but ofc it was adapted for the bride so she felt more comfortable getting ready there) and i was like oh no i don’t mind the drive! got a starby on my way here i’m having a great day, yknow being nice, then her mum says “not because of where we are, but because she’s a cripple” now i’m uncomfortable, brides mum who i’ll called S notices. S says “you did know she was a spaz, right?” (yep actual wording) and i say “i’ve been here before to do her makeup trial this isn’t my first time meeting her she’s a lovely woman but pls don’t say those words they make me uncomfortable” (bride couldn’t hear me she was in the process of blow drying but still i had to say SOMETHING yknow) S says “oh she doesn’t mind! it’s how she deals with her disability through humour” now i’m like ...okay? hairdresser wraps up, i start my job

the whole time S was making comments about what i was doing “oh i didn’t know you’d use that much foundation” “aren’t those eyelashes going to be too long?” “why is her face wet looking?” (setting spray) “___ you look like a clown!” so i respectfully asked her to leave and wait to see the finished look, the bride was getting upset and when S did leave the room the bride apologised for her behaviour, i said darling there’s nothing you need to apologise for at all, S then comes storming back in “why didn’t you tell me you had a makeup trial btw i should’ve been here what the the mua was a psychopath who killed you what would’ve you done then?!” she was just very... i can’t explain it. she was an asshole through and through, picked apart every single thing i did and took every opportunity to call her daughter an offensive term and remind her that she’s disabled. “i hope T knows what he’s got himself in for marrying a handicap!” was the last straw for me, but ofc it was the brides day didn’t want to cause a scene but had to set boundaries so i kicked her out the room again, told her to wait (she was equally as rude and overbearing with the hairdresser too)

when i finished the bride looked AMAZING like for real, she was so happy she’d never had her makeup done professionally before because counters aren’t adaptable and a lot of muas have refused her cause of the height of her wheelchair (i was bending down a lot and yes my back hurt after from being bent over but so what??? that’s two hours of my friday, compared to the biggest day of her life. my back will be fine it’s more than worth it idk why other muas would turn her down it’s so sad) anyway cut to S, she finally said: “oh ____ you look lovely! Laura do you have time to do my eye makeup please i’ll pay you” LOL NO I DONT BYE

when the bride called me after her ceremony it was to apologise again to which i said trust me you don’t have to excuse someone else’s behaviour you shouldn’t be worried about that today of all days! and she said to me “thank you for not refusing me, for once in my life i feel like a normal girl” and yeah lol i balled my eyes out after that call. i can’t even imagine what she has to go through on a daily basis, not just from society but her own mother too. it was clear her mum was upsetting her and i just think like come onnnn, that’s your daughter, on her wedding day, hell on ANY DAY don’t bring her down what the fuck. sorry for the ramble but the short of it is her mother was a cunt.

i gained explicit consent to post these here! ISNT SHE STUNNING 🥺😭

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therosebudgirlwriter · 2 years

Text

Little Puff Daycare (Chapter 6: Lasagna and Panic)

Simon

After I explain the situation to Rosie (Who raises her eyebrow and sighs. Just like Baz used to), I find a bus to Baz’s. Rosie is pretty quiet throughout the whole trip. Once we get off I let Rosie lead the way to this massive apartment complex. She must visit him a lot. I shoot a quick text to Baz, letting him know we arrived, and then we head up to his apartment.

The apartment is a lot smaller than I would have expected. And every single surface is covered in arts and crafts done by Rosie. It’s a lot more cluttered than I would expect, but it still somehow looks so neat and tidy.

Rosie starts unpacking her bag and telling me where everything thing goes. She’s such a smart little kid. She makes me stick her family portrait on the fridge. It’s only her and Baz.

It’s still cute though. I’m sure her parents will love it nonetheless. I’ll ask Baz to send them a photo of it.

My phone buzzes and I quickly check it. It’s only an email from one of the parents. I open up my messages with Baz. Just to check if it sent. He’s read it.

That’s good. And he can’t really respond. He’s in a lecture after all.

I close my phone before I send him twenty more texts.

“SIMON COME LOOK AT MY ROOM!” Rosie screams. Her room? Huh?

“Inside voice Rosie.” I tell her as she tugs me down the hallway. There only seems to be one room. Maybe she stays there when she sleeps over here. She pushes open the door to the room. It looks so neat. At school, Baz never had a single thing out of place in his side of our room. I see that hasn’t changed. He still has his violin. I used to tell him how much I hated it (LIES). I wonder if he still plays.

Rosie pokes me until I look back at her.

“MY ROOM NOWWWW! Oops sorry Mr Simon. I don’t like inside voices”

At least she’s honest.

She drags me into what appears to be the walk in closet. Well, what was the walk in closet. A small bed is pushed up against the wall. The shelving on the opposite side is filled with Baz’s clothes.

He must have made her a room for when she stays over. So cute (I’m not sure if I mean the room or Baz - or both).

While we are playing with her Barbies, my phone buzzes. It’s Baz.

Thank you for not getting her killed. There is leftover lasagna in the fridge for the both of you.

U r welcome. Thnx 4 the food.

Please learn to spell.

I find myself giggling. How stupid.

Rosie and I play Barbies for a bit longer. Eventually she starts getting hungry, so I heat up the lasagne. Next week I’ll get Rosie to cook something with me. Or maybe we could bake something! Like scones. Then she won’t have to eat mine.

After we both finish the lasagne, we settle down on the couch and watch Nemo.

Rosie dozes off about half way through the movie. I look at my phone and realise it’s already 6:35. Baz should be here soon then. Just then, my phone buzzes. Speak of the devil.

Hey Simon. I am leaving uni now. I will see you in half an hour.

kk - also rosie fell asleep on the couch, do I put her in her bed?

Baz

Shit. He knows. He’s seen her room. He must know she’s my kid now. I stupidly forgot that he doesn’t know. He’s going to hate me again.

I think I’m going to be sick. My phone buzzes twice and I almost drop it. I hesitantly open my conversation with him.

He’s sent me a picture of her asleep on the couch. She’s got her favourite Barbie in her hands.

you’re so lucky - she’s a real cutie

I am lucky. I know the whole teen father thing wasn’t great, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. I would choose her over anyone.

You can put her to bed. She looks exhausted. Thank you.

Simon

Rosie cleans her teeth and changes into her pjs before she crawls into bed. She’s asleep within an instant. Teachers always say they don’t have favourites, but they do. Rosie is definitely one of mine. Don’t get me wrong, I love all the kids I teach.

I’ve always loved kids. I would spend my summers away from school helping mum at the daycare. I never thought of doing anything else. And getting a job at a kindergarten isn’t that hard when your mum owns one.

I wonder what Baz is studying at uni? I’ll have to ask. I’ll do that after I ring Penny and Shep.

Baz

I’m late. For the second time. Snow has cursed me. I run up to the door and let myself in. Simon is sitting on the couch, staring into space. He does that a lot. I walk up and tap him on the shoulder.

I regret it instantly.

He grabs my arm and shoves me to the floor as he scrambles off the couch and turns to face me.

“Ouch Snow.” I whine from where I lay sprawled on the floor. My head hurts.

“Shit Baz. You scared me!”

“I think you’ve given me a concussion, you brute.” I whinge, while rubbing the back of my head.

“Sorry!” he says, while pulling me off the floor. He sets me down on the couch and runs off down the hallway.

Brilliant.

Surprisingly, he returns. He offers me a pack of peas and corn wrapped in a tea towel.

“I really am sorry Baz.”

“It’s fine Simon. I’ll be fine.”

I’m surprised Rosie didn’t wake up after all the loud noises. She is quite a heavy sleeper.

And then I remember the fact that Simon definitely knows about Rosie and I. Shit, I think I might vomit.

Simon

Baz suddenly looks quite ill. He looks at the floor and takes some deep breaths.

Have I missed something?

Shit. I don’t know what to do.

In a panic I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Are your parents too old to look after Rosie or something?”

Wtf Brain. Way to make Baz hate you again.

“Sorry. You just look after her a lot. Way more than any of the other kids siblings.”

He just looks at me, slowly blinking.

Baz

Oh, my sweet, sweet Simon. You are so thick.

He really doesn’t know.

I didn’t account for the fact that Snow was so incredibly dense. I mean in high school, he broke up with his long term girlfriend (ugh) Agatha, only for her to tell him she’d already explicitly broken up with him. Twice.

“Sorry Baz. I didn’t mean to sticky beak. I just think you’re a great brother. You do so much for her.”

He’s being so sweet and open. I should tell him.

But I just can’t.

So I do the only thing I know to do.

“Were you watching Finding Nemo, Simon? Aren’t you a bit too old for that?”

He looks at me, then to the TV before he realises what I’m talking about. Good lord. He is so thick.

Simon

He totally deflected that compliment. Doesn’t matter. I catch him up on what Rosie and I did and he nods along. I remember he hasn’t eaten anything, so when he finally goes to wash up I defrost the leftover lasagne and put away the now completely melted peas and corn packet.

Baz still takes like 20 minutes to shower. I didn’t expect anything different

Baz

Simon shoves a plate of lasagne at me when I walk into the kitchen.

“Thought you might be a bit hungry.” He mutters, looking at the floor. Christ, he’s adorable. And I am quite hungry.

Simon just sort of sits and watches me as I eat. Younger me would have pretended to hate the attention. I don’t.

Once I finish eating I start on the dishes but half way through my phone starts ringing. It’s Ellie.

I go to my bedroom to answer, just in case she says something stupid.

Good thing I did.

“How was Rosie’s playdate with the love of your life?”

“Be quiet you eejit. He’s still here.”

“HELLO SIMON. ” she screeches. Thank goodness she’s not on speaker.

“He’s in the lounge room.”

I can practically hear her pout through the phone.

“Why’s he still over? It’s almost 10pm Basilton. You have some pLaNs?”

I hate her. Plus it’s not that late. It’s like 9pm. I say as much.

“Actually Basilton, I think you’ll find that it’s 9:48. So I was right. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Bye Ellie!” I say, hanging up.

He’s still here. Why?

Simon

When Baz rushes out of the room, I finish off the dishes and go to call Penny and Shep.

It’s like 9:50. I should go.

I get halfway to the door, but I turn back around. I feel bad. I can’t just leave. Plus, Baz hasn’t kicked me out yet.

Maybe he wants me here.

Ha, as if.

#snowbaz #simon snow series #agatha wellbelove #simon snow #baz pitch #the simon snow trilogy #carry on #awtwb #wayward son #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3fic #archive of our own #my fic

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multiples-fandomswontkillme · 3 years

Text

~Metal Family headcanons~

These are like my... general hcs)? which means I didn't include my main hc that Glam, Ches and Vicky are polyamorous, married and started dating after Glam met Vicky, and absolutely everything that implies for the kids and the relationships between each member of the fam. Maybe I'll make a separate post for that or maybe not! Who knows lkfwnlfqnf

Glam

Bisexual

Glam has constant nightmares and ocasional night terrors ever since he ran away home and is an active sleep walker. Ches helped him through the worse ones when they were younger, and learned how to deal with them, always preferring not to wake him up but being with him until the episode passed. Vicky has learned how to deal with them, though she normally asks Ches for advice with it cuz she comes out short sometimes.

He has PTSD. I bet it's diagnosed too, he takes medication and goes to therapy, it doesn't mean he still doesn't have his bad days anyway. He's trying to get better.

Glam has talked to Vicky about his past, his father and his family. This is a direct contradiction of Alina's confirmation that Glam doesn't talk about it with anyone but man FUCK THAT. We love good communication in this house, Vicky tries her best to help him, but there's only so much she can do to help.

Glam enjoys gardening, cooking and making models, he also likes doing his make up, painting his nails and dressing up in fancy, extravagant clothes even if he has nowhere important to go.

He likes taking care of everyone's hair, and constantly helps Vicky brush her hair cuz there's so much of it, Dee when he gets stressed over how tangled it can get, buys Ches hair products so he actually takes care of it, and chases Heavy so the kid actually washes, untangles and brushes his hair.

This one is kind of weird, but I refuse to think any adult in the family is unarmed at any time. Glam owns a taser and pepper spray. They're bright pink and sparkly.

This man cried his eyes out while watching Coco. He's hell to watch movies with cuz he talks and predicts what's gonna happen during the movie, judges them with scores at the end and all.

Vicky

Also bisexual!

Vicky's the one who does everyone's laundry most of the time. She prefers it that way since she's the only one that knows how to wash their black clothes so the colors stay vibrant. (This is based on my gf shaming everyone but Vicky cuz their black clothes always look so muted and almost gray, but Vicky's whole outfit is always the same vibrant black colors, so we decided that neither Glam or the kids know how to wash dark clothes)

She has anger issues, if it isn't obvious. I think she also has PTSD, mainly survivor's guilt due to her surviving the accident her brother died in. She blames herself and cannot bear to talk about it, in some sort of deep denial. If she can't remember, it can't hurt as much, right?

She has scars on the right side of her back and her hip, from the road rash she got on her brother's accident, she never treated it due to grief and it scarred badly. Apart from that, the scar of the caesarean section from Heavy's birth. She doesn't really mind both of them, they happened, nothing to do about them.

She likes watching boxing competitions, brawling matches and motorcycle repairing on TV. Loves doing BBQ's and going to the pool. Also an enjoyer of teasing her kids, kissing and loving her husband at random times, spending time drinking and bonding with Ches and bragging about her family and punching anyone who thinks they're not that cool.

Not particularly a fan of make up, skirts and dresses or any traditionally femenine-perceived stuff. But has been making exceptions due to Glam and Ches being unashamed of being seen as femenine, and actually rocking the looks. The internalized misogyny is kind of slowly dissapearing.

Apart from the guns she carries in each arm (I mean her biceps, have you looked at the size of those?? She strong) she has brass knuckles on her at all times. Glam gifts her new ones sometimes, she loves having multiple choices to punch people teeth in.

Loves horror, thrillers and action movies. Falls asleep during rom-coms and dramas. Ironically, loves gossip and talking shit about people. Enjoys hearing Ches talks about the gossip going on in the nursery home even if she doesn't know who the hell he's talking about.

Rest of the family under the cut!

Heavy

Heavy is a trans boy! He doesn't know his sexuality yet though, he's still figuring himself out. When he's older, i think he definitely dated some men but had better luck with girls.

Heavy has had innocent crushes on some girls on his class before, but they never turn into anything more cuz he's not the best at expressing himself. He follows the bother-the-girl-to-death-until-she-hates-you gimmick, and unsurprisingly, it doesn't work.

I'm sorry to break this to u but Heavy totally had an among us phase, and uses so much reddit and twitch slang... You know he does.

Likes bullying and teasing his brother to death. You know that when Dee had his first romance, Heavy was ALL up in his business being a tease and a bad attempt at a wingman. He means well tho.

He's not squeamish at all. Also has great pain resistance. This kid has picked cockroaches with his bare hands and loves cats, of course the cats have scratched him. He's tough!

Grows up to be the charming himbo he was always destined to be.

Dee

I hc him as demisexual. Kind of inherited his dad's tastes for the takes no crap, intimidating but pretty kind of people.

Can't cook. He tries but he can only do basics like rice, cereal, chicken nuggets or eggs. Complicated meals always burn or don't taste like anything at all. It drives him crazy.

Dee was a quiet and very well behaved toddler before Heavy was born. He never threw tantrums or got whims. After Heavy was born though, and despite the fact he understood his brother was small and needed special care, he started craving attention often and cried and got mad at little things. Typical jealousy of the oldest sibling.

The first time Dee fell in love with someone, he didn't recognize it was love at first. He just thought his interest on the person was born out of curiosity and aesthetic attraction, but as soon as he realized he seeked validation and companionship, that he liked seeing them smile, that he wanted to protect them, that he yearned for more time alone with them and that he wanted more than what just a simple friendship implied, it was an instant 'oh hell no'. He wanted those feelings to get the hell away, but unfortunately, they were there to stay.

Canonically likes MLP, psychological and horror anime like Death note and Hellsing, so I'm deciding he also watched Death Parade, had a FNAF phase, is very into The Walten Files. This guy enjoys any kind of specially dark ARG's and knows a ton of lore of real crime, unsolved cases, ghost appearances and other stuff. Doesn't believe in the supernatural, but sure is entertained by it.

He's a mess at romance. Flirting? His attempts at compliments are hardly flattering. Giving gifts? The best he can manage is jewelry and you can kind of tell he asked his dad for help. Dates? He's so nervous he's silent for most of it, but begins getting comfortable and having fun if his partner really knows how to get him down from his negativity cloud.

Ches

Pansexual.

He's very good with kids. He has the patience of a saint and he's laid-back, chill and fun but still is an authority figure who knows how to put limits. Sure, he's gonna let the kids light up a house on fire BUT hey, now they know everything about fire precautions, burns and how to treat them AND how to get away with arson. What an educational evening, am I right?

Due to certain info from the "Goodbye" official comic, I headcanon Ches as depressed. I don't want to elaborate a lot 'cuz of spoilers, but... God, everything related to his mom fucking hurts, man. How did he deal with all that?

Ches has been Dee and Heavy's babysitter so many times he cannot count them with all his fingers. He learned how to put those kids to sleep almost immediately (Sing Bon Jovi's "This ain't a love song" and any cheesy love song in a slow lullaby style and they're out), which movie were their favorite as kids (Heavy loved 'Monsters Inc.' and Dee never looked away during 'Meet the Robinsons'), how to console them after nightmares (Heavy needed reassurance, sweet words, and to be with someone until he fell asleep again. Dee just had to be tucked in, get his nightlight turned on and kissed in the forehead). He practically raised those kids along with Vicky and Glam.

More than once, Dee and Heavy have slipped and called Ches "Dad". Ches immediately gets his shit eating grin on and answers "Yes, son?" and does a couple of dad jokes just to mess and embarrass them. He's actually very flattered and surprised at how proud of himself he is for being a father figure to both kids.

Has a scar on the left side of his forehead due to a bottle his mom threw at him when he was younger, around the time he met Glam. He hates the scar with passion, it's a permanent reminder of the fact she never cared, that's why he always keeps it covered with his headband. Gets sad about it sometimes.

Ches likes to spend his time with a group of grannies of the nearby nursing home. He genuinely considers them his friends and gossips and hangs out with all of them on weekends. Bingo, billiards, walks in the park, soap opera marathons, you name it. I even designed them, gave them names and backstories... God, i just love the concept too much. I'll make some art about Ches and his granny gang FOR SURE, you're NOT ready for them.

Carries a pocket knife on him at all times. This man grew up on a bad neighborhood and absolutely knows how to defend himself, he can be intimidating when he wants to be and will pose a threat if needed. He's fucking terrifying when genuinely mad. Just cause he looks harmless doesn't mean he is, darling.

That would be all!

#metal family #glam metal family #ches metal family #victoria metal family #chess metal family #dee metal family #heavy metal family #metal family glam #metal family victoria #metal family dee #metalfamily #metal family heavy

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leahblackk · 3 years

Note

I have not sent in a request jn like 6 years but okay -

something maybe a lil big angsty but like spencer is being over the top sarcastic with reader. maybe they’re in an argument over his job or something some argument and Spencer is just being very rude and sarcastic to the point where reader can’t tell if it’s a joke or not, and in the midst of their argument spencer is called away on a case, and comes home to see reader has left. (if u wanna fluff it up at the end he can apologize profusely and they can cuddle it out but up to you leah bc your mind is genius)

Hurtful words

(Not my gif)

Summary: a little blurb by my local amazing ideas giver, Alex. Let’s all say thank you Alex for this idea.

Couple: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Warnings: Spencer being a little shit. And mentions of being injured because of gunshot. And many mistakes I’m sorry :)

Oh my god yes! I feel like I haven’t done a blurb in years. Your blurb ideas are the ones that keep me going. And you are the genius!! Your ideas are extremely amazing and I’m happy I can make them true <3

Spencer Reid.

What a mystery that man was.

Y/n met Spencer as a sweet young man with glasses and cute jumpers. A man who didn't catch certain social things. He didn’t understood sarcasm in certain occasions or indirect messages or double intentions. Of course, he knew what it was, but he didn’t know how to act with it or how to use it.

Until he learned how to be passive-aggressive.

The first time Y/n ever saw Spencer being passive-aggressive with someone was with JJ when the Lauren/Emily thing happened. Spencer, of course, was very mad about it. JJ was his best friend, the person he most trusted besides his girlfriend. He couldn’t understand why he couldn’t know. It wasn’t like he was going to tell anyone! He had the right to know that his friend whom he loved so much wasn’t buried five feet underground! He cried on his girlfriend floor for hours, and when he was too embarrassed by her looking at him, he went to JJ’s house. She saw him, she saw him crying his eyes out for her and she didn’t say a damn thing! Of course he was going to be mad.

Y/n never thought she had to worry about him being like that with her.

Spencer always has been a sweet man. But he isn’t when he’s under stress, mad or sad. The pressure over him made his IQ of 187 slashed to 63. He couldn’t think straight. And Spencer never worried about him being like that with his girlfriend. He didn’t had any reasons to be. She was all nice to him and cared about him.

But now, things changed while they were fighting in their shared apartment.

Y/n has been injured on a case after being reckless, or that was the way his boyfriend thought, but to be honest she saved a life, even if that got her hurt. She didn’t care. She would do it again. And that petrified Spencer.

Even if her doctor told her she could go back to the field. Spencer wasn’t going to have any of it. That was why they were fighting. Neither of them liked to deal with strong emotions. He wanted to say he didn’t want her to be there because he was scared he was going to lose her. He couldn’t lose her. She was his everything. His glue putting him together when the world tried to bring him down and shatter his heart. She was the thing that keeps him going. But instead of saying that, he was treating her badly and Y/n on her side wasn’t going to have any of it.

“Why can’t you understand, Spencer? I’m not a child. I can perfectly take care of myself.” She said putting her clothes on her go-bag while Spencer took them out.

He chuckled, “Perfectly take care of yourself? Yeah of course I believe you. When did you take care of yourself? When you put yourself in front of the unsub and he shot you? Yeah, Y/n, that’s taking care of yourself.”

She frowned.

That hurt.

“Excuse Spencer but you’re not no one to tell me what to do.”

“I’m your boyfriend!” He said, hurt.

“And? That doesn’t give you any right to tell me what to do. I’m a grown-up, Reid. If you didn’t notice. I’m not a child you can take care of.”

“Sometimes I think you are, you know?” He then looked at her, “You act worse than a child sometimes. Being so reckless and putting yourself in danger.”

“Like you haven’t done that yourself either.”

“I have! But I knew what I was doing. You weren’t thinking!”

“When is gonna be the day you understand you can’t tell me what to do?”

“When you stop being so reckless and actually take care of yourself,” He crossed his arms over his chest, “But apparently that’s not happening.”

She sighed with anger and looked at him. Throwing a shirt over his face and going downstairs to the kitchen to drink water and calm herself. Spencer followed her and entered the kitchen taking a glass of water as well.

She didn’t even look at him. He wanted her looking at him. He wanted to feel those eyes on him even if they were full of anger.

So he made it in the wrong way.

“And you said you’re not a child,” he murmured referring to her throwing the shirt on his face.

“What was that?” She turned around and look at him.

“You perfectly heard it, Y/n.”

“I can’t believe you’re the one calling me a child. Look at you,” she moved her hands up and down in front of him to make a point, “I’m going to that case you like it or not.”

“I wouldn’t risk the team to be with you on the case. They might end it up injured with your recklessness.”

Silence.

The words Spencer throw made echo in both lovers ears.

Reid bit his bottom lip regretting the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. Trying to take them back but the damage was already done.

Y/n looked at him without any emotion. Until her eyes start to burn and the tears came out. She lifted her hand with anger and wiped them off feeling her cheeks getting warmer and warmer.

Spencer looked at her and his heart ached. Why did he said that? She was a great agent. He was just scared of losing her and if by telling her that stuff, she would stay home safe, he would do it. But he regretted it now. He regretted it so much.

She chuckled without any humour and licked her bottom lip, tears coming down her face again.

But she let them now. Too tired.

Spencer’s first instinct was to step forward to her, but she stayed back putting her hands in front of him, to stop him.

She didn’t want to be touched by him.

He looked down.

He spends his life touching her. Loving her and worshipping her body. Touching her soft skin with soft moves, carefully not wanting to break her as she was a porcelain doll. But now, she didn’t want to be touched by him.

And Spencer understood.

He did.

It was all his fault at the end of the day. He made her stayed back when he wanted to pull her in. It was his fault. “I don’t want you to touch me,” she murmured and passed him taking her arms close to her so they wouldn’t brush his skin.

Spencer’s tears came down now.

I don’t want you to touch me.

She didn’t want him to touch her.

But all he wanted to do was touch her and let her know he didn’t mean those words. How could he? She was perfect in everything she did, her job included. Mostly her job.

Spencer didn’t notice how much time had passed while he stood frozen in the middle of their kitchen until he felt his phone buzzed. He took it out of his pocket. It was Morgan.

Hey Spencer. I know you love your girlfriend so much but we have to hurry! People are dying you know? Not everything is vanilla and roses like you two.

Spencer chuckled. Only if he knew.

He went upstairs with careful moves while he pressed his palms together trying to stop the trembling. He mostly did.

All her clothes were now in the closet, her go-bag as well. She wasn’t going to the case. It wasn’t a surprise. He knew he would achieve what he wanted after saying that. But now it didn’t felt right.

He moved closer to where she was. On their shared bed. He sat down. He was about to open his mouth to say something but she did it first. “Please don’t say anything. You have said enough and I think your thoughts are very clear,” her voice sounds broken. And was all his fault, “Just go. Tell the team I haven’t made full recovery yet.”

He nodded even if she couldn’t see him because she was hiding under the blankets.

What Spencer didn’t notice was the way after saying those words, her hands end it up on her mouth trying the sobs not to come out. She knew if Spencer heard those he would stay with her, even if they just argued. It was Spencer at the end of the day.

He would do anything for her.

Spencer full of guilty took his go-bag and walked directly to the door, looking at her once more.

He wanted to ask.

He needed to know.

You’re gonna be here when I come back?

You’re gonna still be here when I come back?

But the words never left his mouth. They got stuck on his throat. The pain and the tears as well. He needs to say he still loved her. That no matter what he still loved her. He loves her.

He-

He loves her.

But he couldn’t. So he turned around, and left.

When the front door closed Y/n finally let the sobs out.

…

The young doctor tried to avoid all the questions on why he was so grumpy and distracted.

The answer to those questions was “I just had a huge fight with the love of my life and I’m worried she leaves while I’m here. Even if she have every right to I’m still scared because she’s the only thing that keeps me going.”

But of course, he didn’t said it.

He just dismissed everything saying he didn’t have good sleep which didn’t make things better because later on, he was going to be teased by Emily and Morgan.

And when the case was finally closed, he ran to the closest flower shop to buy her favourite flowers and then he went to her favourite restaurant to get her favourite food to then ran to the metro all the way to their shared apartment.

He tried to manage to open the door with all the things in his hand but he couldn’t so he put his satchel and the flowers on the wooden floor, and he was about to put the food as well but then he thought about the germs even if the food was protected, so he put it above his satchel and he was finally able to open the door.

The lights were off which wasn’t weird of her. She wasn’t a lover of the lights of the apartment, always reminding Spencer that they needed to change them as they were too bright, but they never had time to do so, but that was exactly what Spencer was going to do tomorrow.

He then took off his shoes and put them next to the others, but her shoes weren’t there which was weird but he didn’t think too much about it. Maybe she forgot to take them off.

Spencer, then, open the door, even more, to put all the things inside of the house. He put his satchel on the little table next to the shoes and his keys as well.

Her keys weren’t there.

Spencer’s heart stopped.

Her keys weren’t there.

He breathed in and out softly trying to calm his desperate heart beating faster and faster on his chest wanting to get out. He put his palms together trying to stop the trembling but this time was impossible.

He took the flowers with him and went upstairs closing the front door behind him and he open the door of their shared bedroom.

She wasn’t there.

She-

She wasn’t there.

Where did she go?

Did she leave?

No.

“No,” Spencer whispered the tears coming down his eyes.

She wouldn’t. Even if she was mad. She wouldn’t do that as everyone else did without any more explanation than a letter or a note.

A letter.

He needed to find the letter.

He searched on their bed and the tables beside their side of the bed. He didn’t look in their closet or bathroom because she wouldn’t leave that there.

Spencer went downstairs to the kitchen looking for the letter on the dining table and outside of the refrigerator. But there was none.

He, then walked to the living room looking and moving things making a mess.

He needed to read the letter.

She must have left a letter.

Everyone else left a letter.

And the door open but he didn’t heard it because of his desperation and the sound of his heartbeat making echo in his hears

He needed to find the letter.

He turned around and she saw her. Standing there with a sundress and her hair tied. She looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful, but she had a frown on her face looking with confusion at her surroundings, the mess he just made and then back to Spencer repeatedly.

And then he understood he needed to explain himself. “I-I,” he looked down and closed his eyes full of tears for a few seconds. She saw the trembling on his hands. She made a step forward from instinct but then she stopped as she remembers what happened between them. He looked up at her. He couldn’t get the words out of his mouth but she waited for him to talk, patiently while he tried to find the correct words. “I came here right away. Well not right away because I went first to the flower shop and then to your favourite restaurant,” he rambled looking at her. She didn’t stop him. She didn’t have any intention to stop him. Instead, she listens carefully. She always listens, “you weren’t at home and I’ve been nervous all these past days because I thought you would leave, and you had every right to and then I came back here and you weren’t and I looked for a-a note or letter.”

Her heart shattered.

People that left his life always left a note or a letter. She remembers when he told her that.

“I didn’t leave,” he nodded. She didn’t. She stayed. “Penelope called me and she needed help with something and then she asked me if I knew why you were acting so weird and I talked to her for a while and I didn’t realize how late it was. I’m sorry.”

He shocked his head. Stepping forward to her. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m the one who needs to apologize. I shouldn’t have treated you so badly and I want you to understand that I didn’t mean a single word because you are so great and so amazing in everything you do. I would never mean those words,” now was her turn to nodded, “I just said that because after you being injured, I didn’t want you to hurt yourself or even get killed. I’m selfish, yeah I know that. But you’re my everything, Y/n. Without you, I don’t know what will I do, you’re the only one who keeps me together and the one who brings light to my darkness. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he took her hands looking for permission first, “I said those things because I knew you would stay home, but I didn’t mean them I swear I didn’t.”

She nodded again and hugged him. He sobbed while he hugged her as his life depends on it. “I know. It’s okay love. I won't leave you I promise,” she sobbed too. “I love you.”

“I love you more, so so much.”

And they held each other while they sobbed and repeat those three little words back and forth.

They were home now.

They were okay now.

#criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #doctor reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #Spencer Reid blurb #leahsrequests

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silversatoru · 3 years

Note

Ok ok- don’t judge me but get this- College AU, Where Ereh and his friends all go to a nearby maid cafe and turns out his s/o works there, and his s/o is wearing a EXTREMELY short maid outfit and she starts to flirt with Eren’s friends, and basically Eren had enough and dragged his s/o to a bathroom stall, and fucked them calling y/n their little slut, etc. and fucked them so hard they couldn’t work the rest of the day- BYE- 🏃🏻‍♀️ 💨 🚪

maid cafe

a/n: i would never judge you for this???? your mind is incredible and this idea has corrupted my brain for days,, please send more of your wonderful ideas to my inbox. and please let me know what u think bc i truly hope i did u proud

eren yeager x female maid cafe!reader

synopsis: eren and his friends go to a maid cafe and his new girlfriend is their waitress — so he drags her to the bathroom and makes sure she knows who she belongs to

tags/warnings: smut, dom/sub, degrading, mild humiliation, mirror sex, public sex, mentions of drug use

word count: 3.4k

“hey, we should check out that maid cafe downtown. i heard the waitresses are fine,” jean smirked as he proposed the idea, passing a blunt he’d just finished rolling over to eren.

eren graciously accepted the weed, but clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes at jean’s new idea for their friday night. a maid cafe wasn’t particularly up his alley -- he’d just started dating you a few weeks ago and didn’t have any interest in drooling over other women all night. but he was bored and if everyone else wanted to go, he supposed he’d tag along too.

“hell yeah, pretty girls in short skirts sounds good to me,” connie jived, a giddy smile on his face as he blew out some smoke from his own blunt.

“don’t you think that kind of place is a little disrespectful, guys? we shouldn’t view women as-”

“you’re too uptight armin, maybe we can find a nice girl to suck you off and loosen you up a little bit” jean laughed and cut him off as the blonde boy continued to give his immature friends a disapproving look.

“whatever i’m in, just let me finish this first,” eren held up his blunt and took another long drag, “i wont be able to stand you assholes all night if im not high”.

the four of them hung around their shared four-bedroom college apartment a little longer, finishing up their smoke sesh and flinging half-assed insults at one another. the sky was already getting dusky by the time they actually left and were walking through the small, bustling town surrounding their campus. the cafe wasn’t too far, maybe a thirty minute walk, but it was a beautiful spring night and shit, gas is expensive.

armin’s face was horribly flushed when they finally arrived and entered the front door, the poor boy completely unable to even make eye contact with the hostess standing in front of them. his shyness earned him a swift elbow from eren — his way of telling the blonde boy to relax a little bit.

the young hostess spoke to them in a sing-song tone, her hair perfectly curled to frame her face and her cheeks pink with blush. connie and jean completely ate up everything she was doing, gawking at her like a bunch of losers who hadn’t gotten laid in way too long — which is exactly what they were. eren was almost relieved when she finally sat them at a table and walked away, because he couldn’t stand to listen to jeans' horrendous attempt at flirting any longer.

everything on the menu had cute names that matched the theme of the cafe, and while eren and armin browsed the options, connie and jean continued to whisper about the different waitresses and which one they hoped they got.

as for you, it had been a pretty uneventful night, normal customers and nothing too crazy — that was until you walked up to the newest table you were assigned and saw your boyfriend and his friends sitting around the booth. eren and you hadn’t been dating all that long, a few weeks at most, and you hadn’t even met any of these friends yet. anxiety began to pool in your chest, but you tried your best to put on your best voice and greet them like they were any other table — after all, eren was staring so intently at the menu that he hadn't even noticed you yet.

“welcome home, masters! can i get any drinks for you?” you push your voice up to a high octave and make sure to draw out the word masters — it was the opening line that every waitress was required to use by the cafe.

two of the four boys are ogling at you so intensely that they might as well have drool hanging off their desperate lips. a third boy is keeping his eyes fixated on the table as if he doesn’t want to look at you — which is something you’re not quite used to. and eren is staring at you with his mouth gaping open, which he quickly shuts before any of his friends can notice.

he decided to sit back and watch, an amused look on his face as you continue to flaunt your extra-girly facade. he decides that now isn’t a great time for introductions to his bonehead friends — plus he knows you’re nothing like this in real life, so it’s entertaining to watch you act so out of character.

not to mention you look hot as fuck in your skimpy maid outfit — the tight corset-like top hugged your breasts perfectly and your skirt was so short he could practically see the base of your ass cheeks. he could definitely get used to seeing you like this.

but his amusement quickly started to fade as connie and jean shamelessly showered you in compliments and flirted with you like their lives depended on it. and what makes it worse is you’re playing along — he gets that it’s your job but still, can’t you just tell them to shut the fuck up?

he shoots the two idiots across from him a dirty look as soon as you walk away, “hey dumbasses, cut the girl a break”.

“hey man, i didn't hear you call dibs or anything,” connie raised an eyebrow at him.

“yeah dude, we’re just fucking around, chill,” jean added, a light laugh hanging off his last word.

eren couldn’t do anything but roll his eyes in response. he didn’t want to outright expose your relationship yet but he wouldn’t be able sit here and watch this all night either.

his blood was practically boiling when you returned with a tray full of their drinks. connie and jean turned their charms right back on for you, and fuck, if he had to hear you call them “master” one more time he was gonna lose his mind.

“armin get the fuck out of the booth,” he glared at the blonde boy, practically pushing him out of the booth so he could get to you.

armin yet out a small yelp, clambering out of his seat and letting eren climb out after him. the dark haired boy gave you the sweetest smile, but his eyes were lit up like flames.

“hey, mind showing me where the bathrooms are?”

you find yourself frozen in place for just a second, but quickly recover and give him a quick “of course master, follow me!”

the two of you walk to the bathroom in silence, but you can practically feel the heat radiating off of eren.

when you reached the restrooms you opened the door for him and bowed your head, but he grabbed your wrist and yanked you inside behind him, earning a small yelp from you. you noticed him snap the lock down behind him, and before you could even question his motives you were backed into a wall with his lips working roughly against yours.

“so this is what you do all day? walk around with your ass hanging out while calling people master?” he growled in your ear while moving down towards your neck and placing violent kisses along the sensitive skin.

“i- ah- if it bothers you-“ you breath out between gasps, your hands pressed defensively to his chest, “god, you reek of pot, eren”.

“no, it doesn't bother me, i love watching you flirt with other men. but let me remind you who you actually belong to now,” he murmured, voice dripping with sarcasm as he nibbled up to your ear and his hands fondled with the zipper at the back of your uniform.

“eren!” a strangled yelp leapt from your throat as he unzipped you and let your costume fall around your ankles.

for a second you thought about trying to stop him, but his hot lips against your cool skin was starting to win you over. your neck was undoubtedly covered in bruised love marks now, your skin aching in the most beautiful way.

“take it all off,” he mumbled into your ear as he snapped the strap of your bra against your skin.

“we’re in a bathroom eren, i don’t-“ you tried to reason with him, but any inkling of a rational thought was long gone from his mind.

“what’s with all the protests? you had no problem following orders when my friends were the ones giving them,” he cocked an eyebrow at you and lifted his loose shirt over his head in one swift motion.

you could have retorted or made a jab back at him, but your attention was caught up in the perfect lines of eren’s physique. between the sculpted curves of each of his muscles, his dark hair tied in a loose knot at the base of his neck, and the evil smirk across his lips, you were rendered indefensible. everything about eren was so intoxicating, and the idea of letting him have his way with you right now, in this bathroom, was starting to sound less and less like a bad idea. you weren’t sure how long you’d been staring and admiring when his lusty voice filled your ears again.

“did you forget how to use that pretty mouth of yours? i’m sure i can give you a little refresher,” he faked a frown and pointed to the floor with his index finger.

without a shred of reluctance you sunk to his feet. he had you in a state of utter compliance now, and all he had to do was mutter a few arrogant words and take off his shirt — you were almost ashamed, almost.

after a few smooth movements of his fingers against the drawstrings of his sweats, the tip of his member was hanging mere centimeters from your face. you glanced up at him with giant eyes as he stared down at you with his clouded ones. between his raging hunger for your body and the high that was still clouding his mind, there wasn't a single coherent thought in eren’s head other than the way your lips would feel wrapped around his cock.

“open up, princess. if you wanna act like a slut, i’ll treat you like one,” he grabbed the back of your head and forced it forward.

your lips parted without even thinking, and he thrusted his full length down your throat without any warning. you were left coughing and sputtering, the walls of your throat constricting against his cock and sending a few curses from his lips.

he slowed down slightly after that, but kept a steady pace as he mouth-fucked you until tears were leaking down your cheeks. you were gagging and coughing and your face was stained with salty saline but you loved every second of it. his head rolled back as raspy grunts fell from between his teeth, his fist tightening at your scalp.

after he thought you’d finally had enough he pulled back and released your hair from his steel grip. his cock was aching now, coated in a thick layer of your sticky saliva and yearning for more.

“get on the counter,” he ordered, and you scrambled to your feet in a way that was embarrassingly desperate.

you boosted yourself up onto the cool countertop, positioned perfectly between two sinks and leaning back against the mirror. eren placed a firm grip on each of your legs, shoving them open and snickering at the slick patch of fabric between your thighs.

“you like being treated like a whore, don’t you?” he clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth and reached down at your panties before yanking them off in one fell swoop.

he squatted down so his face was level with your cunt, sticking out his tongue and dragging it up to your clit with antagonizing slowness. he moved the warm muscle up and down, sliding it between your folds and in circles around your clit — but his tongue was just barely making contact. and every time you bucked your hips towards him, begging and yearning for just a little more he’d pull his head back and click his tongue at you.

you were aching, leaking, and so incredibly needy for him and he knew it. he’d transformed you into the crumpled mess laying before him in a matter of minutes, and he was very proud of it.

“i’d start begging if i were you, or i’ll leave you here like this — a stupid broken slut with no one to fuck her,” he stood up and cocked his head to the side before beginning to tease your entrance with a single finger.

“ah- eren, please! i’ll do whatever you want,” you whimpered at him, a pitiful look on your face.

“eren? you know you’re not supposed to call customers by their name here,” he shook his head, “you’ll have to do better than that”.

“please- master, use me however you want. just please fuck me already”.

that seemed to suffice for eren, because after that it didn’t take long for him to shealth himself inside you and have your sweaty back slamming into the glass mirror behind you. strangled moans and pitiful whimpers slipped from between your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head in complete bliss. he’d teased and tormented you for so long that the sudden intense stimulation was almost too much.

he fucked himself into you so hard you thought you might break — your legs ached and your back hurt from awkwardly leaning into the mirror. but those feelings were quickly pushed to the back of your head because the overwhelming pleasure was so forceful that you could barely focus on anything else. eren’s length was grinding deep into your aching caverns so good that it was completely clouding your brain.

you let out a stifled gasp when he abruptly pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and aching for more.

“why-,” your voice was so destitute and so, so desperate.

“shut up and stand in front of me,” he commanded, pulling you off the counter and twisting you so you were facing the bathroom mirror.

“look at yourself in the mirror and watch me fuck you,” he practically snarled, placing a palm on your back and pushing your chest down against the counter, “look at how much of a slut you are for me”.

the only response that came out of your mouth was a tiny whine of acceptance — it was pathetic.

a breathy moan fell from your lips as he slid back in, and your cheeks blushed a dark shade of red as you watched yourself get fucked from behind. it was embarrassing, humiliating even, having to see yourself like this, but what made it even worse was that you fucking liked it.

“look at yourself,” he nodded towards the mirror, picking up his pace and tightening his grip on your hips, “just a dumb whore who’s good for nothing but taking orders from other people”.

“only- you!” you let out a strangled yelp.

“what was that? i don’t think i heard you,” he thrusted hard, reaching deeper than he had the entire time and then leaning over your back so his head was positioned right next to yours.

“say it again,” he murmured, burning holes through your eyes with how intensely he was staring at you in the mirror.

“i’m a dumb whore, but only for- you,” you repeated, squirming and whining at the painful pleasure he was forcing into you.

“that’s right,” he flashed you a satisfied grin, standing back up and resuming his original pace.

the sudden shift had you clawing at the smooth countertops — desperately wishing you had a pillow or sheet to grasp onto for some kind of support. you flinched when you felt a couple of his cool fingertips find your clit, immediately rubbing hasty circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“i want you to come for me,” he locked eyes with you in the mirror again, “and i want you to think about how i’m the only one who will ever make you feel this good the entire time”.

his words were harsh but they sounded like honey when they flowed through your pathetically devoted ears. between his consistent thrusts and the pads of his fingers working their magic, you were a pitiful mess of whimpers and moans in a matter of minutes. your body twitching and legs shaking as you mumbled his name over and over — it was the only word your brain could comprehend right now.

seeing you like that nearly pushed eren over the edge himself, but he forced himself to last a little longer, wanting to milk your orgasm for everything that it was. he was genuine when he said no one else would ever make you feel the way he could — your head was spinning and your body was on a high that felt like it would never end.

only once your body finally fell limp and tired, signifying that your climax had ended, did he pull out and spray his seed all over your exposed back. you were a sticky, sweaty mess and your legs didn’t have the strength to stand even after eren was done coming down from his own high.

your face was buried in your arms when you felt a wet paper towel cleaning up the mess of semen off your back. eren tossed the towel into the garbage and wrapped his arms under your torso so he could help your pitiful self stand up. you let out a few pained whimpers, stumbling into his arms and wrapping your hands around his neck.

“that bad, huh? how are you gonna go back out there and work for all your masters? i’m sure they’re waiting,” he smirked at you, and there was no sympathy in his voice.

“i- i don’t think i can,” you whined, clinging to him as your legs continued to shake underneath you.

eren shook his head and clicked his tongue, helping you over to your clothes and assisting you with getting back into your uniform. even after getting dressed your legs refused to work — you were a shaky, stumbling mess. you sat in a pitiful heap against the tiled wall while you watched eren get his own clothes back on.

“i think you might need a new job,” he snickered, squatting down and lifting you onto his back once he was dressed.

you graciously climbed onto his back, arms wrapping around his neck and burying your face into his neck, “yeah, yeah i’ll get a new job”.

“good idea, because everyone’s about to see how pathetic you are as we walk through the cafe,” he wrapped his arms back under your backside to support your weight.

“there’s a back exit right down the hall, please take that one,” you begged, “please”.

“well. since you asked so nicely and did so well i guess you deserve that,” he complied, exiting the bathroom and following your directions to the back door.

but because you have the worst luck in the world, one of the cafe managers came walking right around the corner just as the two of you were about to leave. you buried your head deeper into eren’s neck, unbearable amounts of embarrassment and shame flooding your veins.

“hey man, she quits, sorry!” eren yelled and handled it for you, dashing out the back door before the manager could even comprehend what he’d just seen.

“thank you,” you mumbled into his shirt, and you were truly thankful that you didn’t have to speak for yourself in there.

“no problem, princess,” he adjusted one of his hands so he could squeeze your ass, making you jump against his back, “let’s head back to my house for round two, yeah?”

“r-round two?” you stuttered.

you could barely handle round one, and he was ready to go again? how!?

“i’m joking, relax. let’s go watch a movie or something,” he chuckled, hoisting you higher on his back and beginning your long walk back to his apartment.

you sighed and sunk into his back, that sounded nice. there was a huge difference in how eren acted earlier and how he was acting now, but you were a sucker for both personalities. you expected college to consist of classes and work and maybe a few new friends but meeting eren yeager was sure to make it a lot more interesting.

#attack on titan smut #aot smut #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin smut #eren yeager #eren #eren yeager smut #eren smut #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader #eren x reader smut #smut #eren jeager smut #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager x you #attack on titan x reader

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sortasirius · 3 years

Text

“Despair” and Dean and Cas

Well well well, winning is my favorite thing.

As usual, this is going to be as long as hell. And fair warning, it’s extremely emotional.

So here it is, the thing that we have been barrelling towards for years, literally years.

Just want to point out this. Also, I will NEVER allow someone to speak negatively about this writing group, EVER.

Team Free Dads starting off the episode is so sweet, so scary. Cas’ calming, Dean’s fear, Sam’s desperation, really just hammering home how much they love Jack, how his pain is pain for them, how losing him is unbearable.

“I can’t stop this. I’m coming apart. I don’t want to hurt you. Don’t let me hurt you.”

Oof. If you’ve ever question whether Jack is a Winchester, this line should shut that shit down for you.

When I tell you I was PISSED when Billie sent Jack to the Empty to EXPLODE????? PAIN.

“Yeah the Empty can’t come to earth, not without being summoned.”

Hello Bobo, clue number 1.

The fact that they only had Jack in limbo for like five seconds was great for my heart health, thank u very much Bobo.

Also Dean wielding Death’s scythe?????? KING?????

Man, Sam and Dean’s growth. The way that they’re able to, idk, actually speak on how they feel without death looming or fear or pain. It’s just a conversation, just an honest conversation of Dean admitting his mistakes, admitting how he felt. Admitting that he fucked up, and Sam forgiving him for it.

CHARLIE AND HER GF CHARLIE AND HER GF CHARLIE AND HER GF

Also...hunters and their “dates.” Two hunters who are happily together, who are happily fighting monsters. Hm. Sounds like a Saileen/Destiel parallel to me boys.

You ever wish Cas would look and the mirror and take the great advice he gives others? Because I do. He’s always tried to be “useful” for Sam and Dean, for Jack, always tried to make sure that he’s useful enough that they keep him around. But what he doesn’t understand, what he’s never understood, is that they need him because of who he is, not because of what he contributes.

Remind y’all of anything?

And here we have Clue Number 2

And then, Sam’s realization. Eileen.

Did I begin full tilt screaming no in my apartment when he said her name? Who’s to say?

How can a lock screen cause me this much pain????

Okay but: Charlie loses Stevie, Sam loses Eileen. Clue Number 3.

I feel like I don’t talk enough about how much Sam loves Eileen. About how obvious it is that they are endgame, about how happy he is when he talks about her. This just feels like a blow to the stomach, but we’ve barely even started.

Sam immediately shifting into protective leader mode? He is the love of my life.

Dean’s simple nod, like it’s a given? Enough to do me in right there.

This is another episode where it’s just so clear that Sam is the leader of the North American hunters. Everyone knows him, everyone is willing to follow him. He’s knowledgeable and kind and fair and just and an incredibly capable fighter. Once again, I don’t believe his work on earth is done.

Can we also please talk about how FRIGHTENING IT WAS for Jack to kill that plant??? I don’t really have much of a comment on it because I was literally just like ?????

With Billie saying that it’s Chuck, the way that people were dusted, very similar to Becky and Amara, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised, especially with Donna getting taken off the board. It’s like I said last week, I don’t buy that he’s taken himself off the board, he’s too invested in the unraveling of this story to take a step back. He’s gotta break them before he can defeat them, that’s the only way.

And here we go, into one of the most painful and surreal things I will ever write about.

Dean’s speech. His guilt, his regret. The shame of not only trapping himself, but the pain, the horror of trapping Cas.

“I just lead us into another trap. All because I, I couldn’t hurt Chuck. Because I was angry and because I just needed something to kill, and because that’s all I know how to do.”

“Dean-”

“It was Chuck all along. We never should have left Sam and Jack, we should be there with them now. Everybody’s gonna die, Cas. Everybody. I can’t stop it.”

His narrative arc. Tied up in a bow.

“She’s gonna get through that door.”

“I know.”

“And she’s gonna kill you and then she’s gonna kill me. I’m sorry.”

Cas smiles.

Cas knows. He knows what’ll get them out of this, and he knows that he would do anything in this Universe for Dean Winchester. The human man he fell for.

“When Jack was dying, I made a deal to save him.”

“You what?”

“The price was my life. When I experienced a moment of true happiness, the Empty would be summoned and it would take me forever.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“I always wondered, ever since I took that burden, that curse, I’ve wondered what it could be, what my true happiness could even look like. I never found an answer, because the one thing I want, it’s something I know I can’t have.

“But I think I know, I think I know now...happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being. It’s in just saying it.”

“What are you talking about, man?”

The most selfless thing Cas does in this, and he does a lot of selfless things, is to tell Dean Winchester how impossibly good he is. To tell him that he is worthy, to tell him that he is adored.

“I know, I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You’re destructive and you’re angry and you’re broken and you’re daddy’s blunt instrument. And you think that hate and anger, that’s what drives you, that’s who you are. It’s not. And everyone who knows you sees it, and everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. You raise your little brother for love, you fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are.

“You’re the most caring man on earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know. You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you outta Hell...knowing you has changed me.

“Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you, I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack, I cared about the whole world because of you.

“You changed me, Dean.”

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Dean’s greatest fear. His fear of those loving him leaving him. The terror of being alone.

“Because it is.

The head shake. Don’t love me. Don’t love me if it means you’ll leave me, don’t love me, everyone I love leaves me. Don’t leave me. Don’t love me. Don’t leave me.

“Don’t do this, Cas.”

Just like I always thought. One last look at Dean before the Empty takes him.

“Cas-”

“Goodbye Dean.”

And Dean is left, broken on the floor, unable to answer Sam’s calls, unable to do anything. It doesn’t matter to him that Chuck has wiped everyone out, it doesn’t matter to him that Sam and Jack might need him. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, because the thing that mattered still hangs on his lips, still waiting to be said, and now he won’t get another chance to say it.

The fact that I am writing this, even with all my spec, with all my analysis of the writers’ room, of their text, of the way Dabb and co had approached this story, nothing could have ever prepared me for this. Nothing could have prepared me for a three and a half minute, uninterrupted scene where Cas confesses not only that he loves Dean, but that he has always loved him.

I talk a lot about how these writers don’t get the credit they deserve. Unfortunately, from most of this fandom, they never will. We will likely never know the fights with the network they had, the steps backward they had to take, the way they had to beg and fight and claw to get this on the screen. But they did it. They did it for these characters, they did it for this dinosaur of a show, and yeah, they did it for us.

It was not easy, I can promise you, to get this greenlit. They had to fight for this, they likely had to call in favors and make threats and quite literally put their careers on the line (you may scoff at that, but WB is a BIG company, especially in the TV/movie world) for this story. This story of Dean and Cas, the man dragged out of Hell and the angel who fell for him.

I have tons more to say, and will likely have several more posts about this, but I want to leave all my babes who are worried that that was the end for Dean and Cas with some takeaways.

Sam is missing Eileen. Dean is missing Cas. That is no longer a fun subtextual parallel, that is it for them. Their respective endgames are missing, and they will not know their peace until they get them back. Chuck will not win. That’s not the story being told, and right now? He’s winning. He’s broken them, left them with nothing, left them with an empty world and a hole in each of their hearts where their person (or angel) used to be.

Our show is going to end with “contentment.” “Contentment” isn’t from Sam and Dean being filled with grief and hitting the open road. It isn’t Sam getting Eileen back and leaving Dean with no one. “Contentment” is Sam and Eileen, Dean and Cas. Together.

#destiel #spn #supernatural #my meta #destiel meta #spoilers #spn 15x18 #i cannot believe this #i cant believe i wrote this #this is real #theyre really canon

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

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can u do a blurb about reader wanting a baby and asking her co-worker Spencer to be the donor because he's smart and nice and she wants a cute baby?

you said blurb and i read 2K word fic apparently lmao

Late nights behind a desk were the worst. Y/N hated reading over case file, after case file, of horrific things as she tried to choose where they went next.

The only plus side was that she wasn’t alone, Spencer was at his desk just beside her. Like he always was. They had an interesting friendship, to say the least.

Ever since Y/N joined the BAU, Spencer and her were glued at the hip. They had all the same interests, liked the same music and movies, and they spat out information the same way, they were like each other’s dorky other half— but it was just a friendship.

They had a tradition to watch at least one movie together after a case, to just chill for a bit together. Always randomly picking one of their apartments to go to, spending the night together until one of them eventually wandered off to bed. Leaving the other on the couch.

They weren’t aware of their feelings for each other for a while. Both of them being so used to being alone, and never having anyone be interested in them before. It was hard to understand if the feelings they had were pure friendship, or if it could ever be more. If the sex would fuck everything up and take away that perfect happy place they found in each other, or would it make the bond stronger?

She noticed the crush before Spencer showed any signs of liking her back. She woke up every morning thinking of him, that's when she came to the conclusion that it was more than just a friendship. She wanted him in her life forever, she wanted to kiss his perfect lips and hug his soft body, wake up beside his messy hair and just love him for the rest of eternity.

She sighed as she picked up another file, not excited to learn about the horrible acts taking place in what people called, “the best country in the world.” She’d disagree any day of the week.

This one was a file about some missing kids apparently being spotted in a van altogether in Georgia, it looked interesting enough to be the next case. She hated reading all the info, seeing every kid's happy face in the file knowing that’s not how they looked now.

“Good god,” she groaned as she flipped through the case.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked over the divider.

“Nothing,” she shrugged, “just a bad case.”

She handed it to him over the desk, hearing him flip through all the sheets as he read a million words a minute. “We should show this to Emily first thing,” Spencer agreed, pushing himself over to her desk in his wheely chair.

“I will,” she smiled softly, taking the file back from him and placing it on her desk.

Spencer stood then, making his way into her space and rubbing his hand over her back slightly. “Are you okay?”

She sighed, “actually. no, I was telling Garcia I want to have a baby soon, and then I see things like this and I’m scared to do it alone but I don’t have any other option?” Ranting to him like he was her therapist.

“What do you mean?”

She turned in her chair to look up at him, his soft brown eyes really caring to hear the answer. “Sit,” she insisted.

He pulled the chair over more, sitting close enough that their knees touched. “I’m 36, I’m not having any luck finding a husband or a wife, I want a baby and if I have to do it myself I will, but what if I’m not enough? What if I have a boy and he grows up to be a killer cause he never had a dad?”

“Y/N,” Spencer’s voice was soft as he looked at her with a confused scrunch on his face. “That couldn’t happen, you’re a wonderful person, I love having you on the team and in my life, I know you’d raise good kids, you should do it.”

“Really?” She beamed at him, the words touching her heart and making her swoon a bit.

“I mean, it would be hard,” he added reason to the conversation. “You’d have to take time off, which would be good for bonding. My mother raised me alone and I turned out semi-fine, I don't hold any resentment for her not finding someone for me to call dad or even step-mom for that matter. I think if you give them all the love in the world like I know you’re capable of, your child will love you like you’re their whole world.”

She laughed as she noticed the tears welling in her eyes, waving her hand's in front of her face so she wouldn’t fully sob. “Do you want to be the donor?” She made a joke to change the topic.

Spencer laughed then too, “sure!”

Everything got serious again then, she looked at him a little differently. “Really? Cause honestly, you’re like a Grade A donor profile in the most expensive clinic!” She couldn’t help herself from laughing again at the absurdity.

“I’ve always wanted to be a dad, 40 isn’t too old to have a child, is it?” He seemed to have decided that rather fast.

“Okay,” she nodded with a smile, “okay. That’s cool, sick,” she felt the words get smaller as she thought it over.

“I get it if you were kidding,” Spencer spat out. “I realize now that you might have been making a joke, I hope it’s not weird that I agreed so fast, it’s just that I think you’re a very beautiful and smart woman and the idea of helping you make a child makes me really excited. I think it would be a very good idea if you were being serious, but I get it if you’re not.”

She let him get it all out, always loving when he got like this on a case or in person, nervous or just because he wanted to talk, she loved to listen. And no one ever let him finish his thoughts, always wanting to beat him to the punch.

“Spence, I think you’re really handsome and smart too,” she smiled. “If you’re also serious, I am too.”

“How would we?” He asked as he pulled at the top button of his dress shirt, swallowing like he couldn't breathe all of a sudden.

“If you’re not opposed, I’m sure the good old-fashioned way would work?” She laughed, laying her hand on his knee softly.

It was like sparks flew at that moment as if all the fluorescent lights in the bullpen could have exploded and she wouldn’t have even noticed. Captivated by Spencer's eyes as he gasped at her touch.

“Not opposed in the slightest,” he said softly as he held his own hand over hers.

She couldn’t help herself from smiling. “Well, I think I’m all done here if you want to come to my place for a movie?”

“Sure,” he replied, offering her a hand as they stood up together.

He returned his chair to his desk, both of them grabbing their coats and bags and rejoining at the door.

“I should go say goodnight to Penny,” Y/N said softly. “Wanna come?”

“Yeah,” he followed her through the door and down the hall to the tech room.

“Knock knock,” Y/N said as she walked through the open door. “Oh great and knowledgeable one, I’ve come with my nightly farewell.”

“Oh my knight, I shall miss you,” Penelope played along, sauntering over to her and wrapping her up in a hug. “I leave you with this until your return.”

“Through scorching deserts, and blistering winds, I will make it back to you, always,” she tried not to laugh as she hugged her back. “I also brought forth the jester.”

Spencer was laughing in the doorway as the two of them looked at him, “hi?”

“The pretty boy, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Um,” Y/N smiled, “Spencer and I are just going back for our nightly movie.”

Penelope looked at both of them, jaw slightly gaped, ��nightly? I thought it was a case by case thing?”

“It’s a good excuse for us to talk,” Spencer smiled at her.

“Mhmm,” she smirked, “well have fun.”

She pulled Y/N back into another hug, hiding her face from Spencer, “I need all the dirty deets in the morning.”

Y/N smacked her arm softly as she pulled back, “goodnight pretty penny.”

“Farewell brave knight, handle with care, Jester,” Penelope pointed her finger at him, giving him a knowing glance.

“Yes, oh Knowledgeable one, always,” he blushed.

He reached out his hand for Y/N, interlocking their fingers as they left her office and headed towards the elevator. A rare moment of bravery on his part, holding hands like this didn’t spread a lot of germs.

“We’re going to have to discuss a lot of logistics like realistically this isn’t going to be just a fuck and oh look its a baby. This is a real live baby that we need to raise and care for,” she reminded him as the elevator doors shut.

“I’d like to be as involved as you’d let me be,” Spencer replied. “I don’t have to be 'dad' to them, I could be uncle Spence that’s fine too.”

“Oh no, you’d be Dad for sure,” she nudged him slightly. “I mean like, weekends and holidays and birthdays, your mom will want to see them surely, my parents will want to see them. Housing,” she looked at him horrified. “I have an apartment with 2 bedrooms, I don’t think I could let them sleep somewhere without me.”

“I have been looking at houses,” Spencer added before the doors opened to the garage, “you’re driving right?”

“Yeah, you were saying?” She replied, digging her keys out of her purse and leading him towards the car.

“Derek Morgan, I’m not sure if you’ve met him yet, he fixes up old homes in DC and Virginia now. He just finished one and I helped him with it. I think I’m going to buy it from him. It has 4 bedrooms, we could all live under the same roof? It would be easier to co-parent.”

She was amazed at how fast he adapted to this as if he’d been having the same thoughts she was having. At a certain point wanting kids becomes a pipe dream filled with desperation and emptiness, he looks like he’s experienced it too.

She opened her door and sat down before replying to him again. Thinking about how wonderful he was going to be during this process, “thank you, Spencer.”

“For what?” He asked as they both closed their doors.

She sighed, relaxing into her seat as she started the car. She turned to him softly, not wanting to cry as she spoke softly. “Being a mom is more of a dream to me than joining the BAU was, this is the best gift you could give me.”

He reached his hand out again, holding it softly. Running his thumb over her knuckles. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah,” she nodded softly.

He couldn’t make eye contact with her, staring at their hands as he rubbed her skin.

“Um, I’ve been pretty infatuated with you since you joined,” he let it out finally. Like a ton of bricks off his back he relaxed a bit, “after everything with Maeve, Cat and Max… oh god, and JJ... I was so worried that if I got too close to you I’d lose you. I tried to keep the feelings in, that's why I said what I did to Penelope. She knows how I feel about you.”

It was like fireworks were going off in her chest as the butterflies erupted inside of her. She sat up, turning to him more and ripping her hand from his grasp.

It startled him, he looked at her anxiously as if she was going to yell at him. But she placed both hands on his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss.

His arms snaked around her waist, wishing they could get closer if it wasn’t for the damn centre console of her car. Pressing their lips together, hard, as they breathed each other in. Desperation taking control, she wasn’t able to let go of him.

When she finally did pull away, however, the look on his face was priceless. Like expensive art, every line and freckle had a meaning. He was surprised, enamoured, grateful, desperate for more.

She smiled softly, rubbing her thumbs over his cheek. “Good, cause it would be awkward having your baby and not getting to love you every day too.”

taglist: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

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