#i love drawing at 3AM its my favorite
irresponsible parent belos part three: oh shit welp there he goes
(did not expect this to be a comic but i doodled the first panel for a laugh and then the rest came to me, in a chorus of bad kazoos,)
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i keep forgetting to post stuff i stg
anyways, i didnt do inktober this year (obviously lmao) so i did sketchtober (w/ my own prompts) on my own time and even though i didnt finish it, here are some personal favorites of mine from those that i did (+ my icon)
there are captions !
anyways, im gonna keep working on balancing both my personal work and my work work, y’know ? hope you have a good day !
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Them with an s/o who is the definition of head empty
VGHERJFNJ THE TITLE IS VAGUE BUT-
Baku, deku and shoto with an s/o who is the definition of ‘head empty, no thoughts’ (OR- them with an s/o who spaces out a lot or forgets a lot, I dont know how to explain-)
WARNINGS/TW: Swearing, bad writing, OOC characters, short writing, talking about bees and falling 100 feet
this is a very self indulgent fic <3
The first time you both met was at U.A
He noticed your small opened mouth smile, and your eyes were closed
you were standing in front of the door which was a problem (to him)
he could’ve easily moved past you bUT OKAY
he thought you were cute but anyway
He shoved passed you, saying something like ‘move it extra’
you opened your eyes and stumbled, making a humming noise
You stared at him with squinted eyes, not understanding why he pushed you
You didn’t mention it but it agitated you
When the dorms got introduced and bakugou wasn’t such an aSSHOLE
You two started to talk
by talk I mean you joining his little group (courtesy of Sero and Denki) and you guys exchanging like 3 words
You didn’t really talk
You just stared mindlessly into your food and chewed slowly, occasionally joining in on the conversation
You started talking to him more
And he started noticing more about you
Like how you stuttered slightly when someone suddenly asked you something
Or how you stopped talking in the middle of your sentence for a little while then continued talking (or ask him what you guys were talking about again)
Once he asked what you and Izuku were talking about after you got done talking with him
You thought for a couple of seconds then said ‘I forgot’
You also did this thing where you and him would talk, and you nodded aimlessly, then after he finished talking you would say something like ‘I wasn’t listening what were you saying?’
That usually led to him grumbling and reluctantly repeating what he said
Sometimes you ask weird weird questions
‘If I spent all your money on frogs would you be mad?’
Safe to say he checked your room for frogs
(spoiler he didn’t find any)(unfortunately)
head empty couple head empty couple-
You were in class 1-B, and he was in 1-A lets get that out of the way
So you guys never really interacted with each other
But one day
When he was going on a walk, he heard soft music coming from behind a bush
It sounded so peaceful (something like this (if you dont really like this kind of music, then you can just imagine another one! no worries :))
It confused the poor bby
So, as anyone would, he checked behind the bush (he tells himself it was to check for villains but we all know he’s lying)
and he sees you, laying in the starfish position on the grass
Your eyes were wide open, the sun making your skin look all the more beautiful
you suddenly turned on your stomach and laid face down
w - w h a t
He stared at you for a good second and poked you on your back
You sniffed and looked up at him, a doopey smile on your face
thats when he knew he would love you forever
then you just made little gremlin noises and rolled away with your phone in your hand
After that you two met up more often
Sometimes you did things without thinking
Like that one time you found a fluffy bee and named him Michael
Like he just walks in on you staring at a bee and it staring back at you
Then there was this other time you suddenly said ‘What if I fall 100 feet and have a bucket of water then pour it out in the last second before I hit the floor.. would I die?’
He had to stop you from doing that
Sometimes you just stare at him for a really long while
Then go back to whatever you were doing
Sometimes you also just lay in your bed and stare at the ceiling, playing with a string you attached to the ceiling of your dorm
he still doesn’t know why you did that
You had to let go of Michael the bee :(
HE AND YOU ARE THE DEFINITION OF HEAD EMPTY
sometimes when you and him are studying together you write one little thing and just stare at it for a couple of minutes
Then you start writing once again GHEBJBJFERJ
Sometimes being head empty is hard smh ✋😔
One time you were listening to your playlist (could be any) and you had an unreadable expression on your face
then suddenly tears started falling down your face
But you weren’t sad
So you just sniffed and went to Todoroki’s dorm and face planted on his bed
it was 3am
You baffle him so much pLS SLOW DOWN-
Sometimes he’ll find you sitting at a bench somewhere doing that,, thing with your lips
You know when you blow air through your lips and they flap up and down?
If you know you know ✋
His favorite thing is when you stare at him or something else and part of your tongue is sticking out
YOU LOOK SO CUTE🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺
YOU REMIND HIM OF A LITTLE CATT
(hehe picture isn’t mine)
Sometimes when you’re both walking together you stop talking so suddenly and play with your fingers
He stops walking and asks you what’s wrong
then you just kiss him on the nose and start walking again
he’s deadass just standing there like 🧍
Then there’s rare but welcomed times where you both are together and alone
just hanging out
And you’re doodling with some music on
You just stare mindlessly at the way your pencil/pen moves
Not even paying attention to what your drawing
LISTEN HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH SMH
one time you were making macaroni and forgot about it
lets just say you weren’t allowed in the kitchen after that
ITS BEEN LIKE A MONTH BUT UM HERE’S THIS PILE OF S H I -
I’m very sorry for the ooc characters! I’ve been out of touch with mha for a bit but I tried my best!
Have a great day and as always, thanks for reading!!
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hi i saw that your requests are open for the night for that list and i feel like 15&35 with spencer might be all i need to survive
anyways i’m on anon bc i’m scared you’ll hate this request but just know your writing is my favorite i would read your grocery lists at this point
excuse me i love this request please do not disparage yourself ever again <3 that’s the loveliest thing anybody has ever said to me and i will now think of you and this compliment whenever i write a grocery list
Ship: GN! (wears a bra, no mention of gender other than this) Reader x Spencer Reid
Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical case things, pining, mild thievery.
Word count: 2.4k
Prompts: #15 - "You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”
#35 - “Well fuck, didn’t expect to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”
A/N: This got so ungodly long I’m so sorry I don’t even know if I can call this a blurb at this point it’s a full fic but I loved this idea so much and it ran away from me.
PLEASE let me know what you think because I bashed this out in the span of an hour and I’m not sure if I love or hate it.
Rossi’s spitballing theories behind you. Your head lolls on the desk, feeling far too heavy to attempt lifting up at this time of night. The case was hard, you were sleeping in shifts, and somehow you, Rossi, and Reid had drawn the short straw. Your eyes are blearing a little too much to make out the exact time on the clock, it’s on the opposite side of the room and your eyes burn when you squint to look at the time; you’re fairly certain you’re somewhere on the wrong side of 3am.
23 hours awake.
Sighing, you push yourself up, looking around and only now noting that Spencer isn’t in the room. He must have made his exit while you were flicking through the files making notes, it was often easier to do that with your headphones in.
Thankfully, you'd set up shop in a conference room at the hotel, given the local PD was tiny and barely equipped to handle its own officers.
“What about the meat packing district?” Rossi muses.
It’s a rhetorical question but one you actually have an answer to, “I don’t think so. The busiest part of the city is between the meat packing district and where he’s dumping the bodies. Cops do random stop-and-searches sometimes, I don’t know if he’d risk it.”
“He could drive around.”
You frown, thinking, “He’d be crossing state lines. Hey, wait,” You stand up from your chair, walking to the board and starting drawing circles that illustrate your point, “Spencer thought there must be a pattern, right? But it died off here and we didn’t know about any more victims. If we expanded the search to outside of state lines it might connect here, here, and here,” You circle each here with a point, tapping the pen against the board triumphantly.
Rossi smiles, “Good thinking kid. I’ll call Garcia.”
Exhausted from your breakthrough, you flop back down into the chair. The clothes you’ve been wearing are icky, uncomfortable with sweat and flying and you’re strongly regretting your choice in underwear now too.
You hear the door swing open, looking up to see Spencer entering the room. Holding your go-bag. The one you’d left on the jet this morning. The jet that was a two hour drive from your current location.
“Where did you? When did you?” Your incoherency is related to both your tiredness, and his thoughtfulness.
He smiles, “It took some calling around but I found a cab driver willing to go and pick it up. It just got here.”
“Spencer I-,” You start, scrambling to your feet to accept the bag he’s offering to you, “Thank you. That’s so sweet of you. How much was the cab?”
“Don’t worry about it,” He says, handing it to you and heading over to the board, “What are these?”
Rossi - who was watching the exchange with some amusement - starts explaining the eureka moment you’d had. Spencer nods along, turning to smile at you when Rossi credits the thought to you. It’s something he does a lot, Rossi’s noticed. Not in a condescending way, Spencer knows more than anyone just how capable you are at your job. It’s as if he needs to channel his love for you somewhere, and chooses pride. It’s the easiest one to explain, after all, because who isn’t happy for their colleague making breakthroughs?
That’s how Spencer justifies it anyhow.
You leave the room, heading to the bathroom to change. You’re incredibly grateful to slip out of your dirty clothes and the bra that’s cutting into you, so much so that you decide to pop on a t-shirt under your blazer. The sports bra and t-shirt combo revitalises you more than you thought possible for this hour.
Digging through, you find an item that you didn’t pack. A pair of brown fluffy slippers. Attached to them, a note, ‘I thought the heels on your boots looked uncomfortable, and I didn’t want your feet to hurt. - Spencer.
He signed the note. Something about that, alongside the gift itself, sends a flush of warmth through you.
He gave you his slippers
Is that something friends do?
Wracking your brain, you try to think up if he’d do this for anyone else. Hotch? The thought makes you laugh. Emily? Maybe, actually. If she didn’t make it so hard for others to take care of her. Penelope? Almost definitely.
Your heart sinks a little, and you distract yourself by fumbling to get your work boots off and the slippers on.
It doesn’t matter it isn’t romantic, it matters that he did it.
It matters to every other person you date
He sets an impossibly high bar
Thankfully, the late hour means that there aren’t many local PD still hanging around to see your interesting choice of shoe. You slip through to the conference room, where Spencer and Rossi are huddled over the phone talking to Garcia.
Spencer does a double-take. He knew the gift he’d given you, but he hadn’t expected to see you...wearing them? You look beautiful: hair mussed from fiddling with it, an old college t-shirt under your blazer, brown fluffy slippers on your feet. The mix of professional and homely attire does something to him that he can’t quite explain, and he has to clear his throat before making his next point to Garcia.
Did he just blush?
You try not to stare at him, try not to see if that’s a tinge of red creeping up under his turtleneck.
“Thanks Garcia,” Rossi clips, hanging up the phone, “I’m going to go and find some coffee. You two,” He points, looking knowingly between you, “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
No sooner has Rossi left the room, you both try speaking at once.
“You look-” He starts.
“Thank you so-” You start.
You both tinge with warmth.
“You go first,” He says, gnawing at his plump lower lip, finger turning oer the pen in his hand.
You laugh, a little breathless, “Well fuck, I wasn’t expecting to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”
His eyebrows quirk, is that...hope?
No. Wishful thinking
It’s probably confusion, and you’re a little embarassed, so you quickly clarify, “I mean Spencer Reid this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. I’m endebted to you forever, really.”
A look washes over him: disappointment? You can’t trust your eyes to see the clock, so you feel you can’t entrust them to analyse his micro-expressions right now either. Especially when you’re biased by personal desire.
“It’s no problem,” He says, voice cracking a little, “You look...” He trails off.
“Unprofessional?” You suggest, teasing.
He shakes his head, swallowing, “You look really nice.”
It’s your turn to swallow. You drop your gaze to the pen, feeling too flustered to continue looking your colleague in the eyes at this moment in time, “Thank you. Where did you get slippers at this time of night?”
He shifts, one hand settling over the wrist of the other and fingers nervously rubbing over the back of his hand, “They were uhm. They were mine.”
“Yeah,” It comes out pitchy, a squeak, “I’m sorry, that’s probably weird I just thought-”
“No, Spence,” You say, looking up at him and giving him a genuine smile, “No, it’s really sweet. I’m really lucky to have you.”
He gives his signature tiny tight-lipped smile, the one he gives when he’s feeling awkward or suppressing something he wants to say but can’t.
Please let it be the latter.
You relinquish him of the obligation of responding, instead standing to join him at the board, “You think you’ve got enough to make a geographical profile out of this?”
He nods, tapping the board with his pen, “Your idea about crossing interstate lines was really smart.”
“I have my moments.”
He wants to tell you that everything you have is a moment. You want to step closer, to cup his face in your hands, to press a kiss to the lips that you swear are pouting, begging to be kissed. You don’t.
Namely, because Rossi chooses this moment to re-enter the room, clutching three cups of coffee, “A little help here?”
From the way you spring apart, despite not even being that close, he wishes he’d taken a little longer. Damn kids and their inability to express their feelings for one another.
It’s 4:30am when the alarm on your phone goes off. With the work of the four of you - Garcia sporadically included when she had genius updates - you’ve managed to uncover a pattern that arches across states. You’d called Hotch, who’d commended the good work and advised that you should head to bed at 4:30. The others would get up then, and start to head out to the different potential crime scenes. Local PD was already on it.
You’d been told under no uncertain terms that you were to rest until at least 10am. Unless there was a call from Hotch. You prayed there wouldn’t be.
Rossi’s off the minute the alarm rings, bustling out the door with a “See you later kids.”
You wait behind while Spencer packs his things into his satchel. Or rather, unpacks his things from his satchel, frantically tearing it apart.
“What are you looking for?” You ask.
“My key card,” He murmurs, “I swear it was in my wallet.”
“You were rooming with Morgan, right? Want me to call him?”
“Yes please,” He says, continuing to unearth the contents of his bag onto the desk, with an increasing degree of agitation every second that goes by.
You dial Morgan’s number, and he answers after two rings, “Hey kid.”
You put the phone on loudspeaker.
“Hey. I’m with Spencer, we’re about to head up to our rooms for the night, are you still here? He can’t find his keycard.”
He lets out a breath of air through his teeth, “Sorry, I’m already on my way to one of the crime scenes. Local PD found a body over the state line. Nobody’s at the hotel but you guys and Rossi.”
Spencer outwardly sighs.
“No problem, we’ll figure something out.”
“Alright, good work kid, get some rest.”
The phone line clicks. Spencer’s brow is pinched with frustration, and your heart breaks for him. You’ve all been awake well over 24 hours, and he looks exhausted. He’s more eyebag than man at this point.
“Do you want me to go to the front desk?” You ask.
He shakes his head, “Reception doesn’t open until 6am. I’ll just wait here until then.”
He starts packing the belongings back into his bag, a resigned look on his face. And you have an idea.
“Actually,” You say, pulling the keycard out of your pocket and sliding it across the table to him, “You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”
He picks the card up, squinting in confusion.
“Me and Rossi both got put in single rooms. I mean, it might not be the most comfortable thing in the world, both of us in a single bed, but it’s better than nothing right?”
He opens his mouth to object, and you shake your head.
“Spence you look like you’re about to drop unconscious on the floor and I don’t want to be responsible for yet another injureid.”
You’re so tired that the pun seems hilarious to you, and it does elicit a small laugh from him.
“Come on, it’s either share a bed with me, share a bed with Rossi, or try to sleep in one of these chairs. And I’ll be honest, I’d be kind of offended if you’d rather either of the other two options.”
“I can sleep on the floor,” He says, obviously warming up to the offer but not wanting to push his luck. You can hear the hesitancy in his voice.
“You can. But you won’t,” You tell him, settling your go-bag on your shoulder, “And might I remind you that all this time you’re spending objecting are minutes we could be spending sleeping.”
That seems to win him over. He tucks everything back into his bag, zipping it up, “After you.”
“You have the keycard,” You smile, “After you.”
The bed is a single bed. It prompts another round of ‘No really, I can sleep on the floor’ from Spencer, your enquiries about if it’s too much for his germaphobia or issues with touching, and his blushy embarassed reassurance that he doesn’t mind if it’s you.
He doesn’t mind if it’s you.
Not as if you’ll spend the next year mulling over those words or anything.
When you get out of the bathroom from changing, Spencer is tucked up in bed. Well, you say tucked up, but he’s practically lay right on the edge. How he’s actually physically still being supported by the mattress at this point must be his physics magic.
“I thought I said I didn’t want you getting injured,” You say, crossing the room to him.
He opens his eyes, “I didn’t want to-”
“It’s okay Spence,” You tell him, huddling down into bed.
There’s about enough room for you both to fit in, with an inch between you, so you pull gently at his arms, urging him closer.
“There’s enough room for us both without you going flying in the night,” You tell him.
He nods, obviously still a little nervous. It’s odd, lying face to face with him, illuminated only by lamplight. He looks soft. He always does, but there’s something intimate about this. You can feel his breath fan across your cheek, can feel how heat radiates off his arms.
“Do you want me to turn the lamp off?” He asks.
It’s not your staring that implores him to ask, because he’s been staring at you too. The both of you, trapped in a perfect bubble of a moment. Lamplight a spotlight, highlighting all the features of the person you love most.
“Sure,” You whisper, breath catching in your throat.
He flicks it off, settling back down.
His breath brushes against your face when he asks, “Do you want me to turn around?”
“Do you want to?”
He hesitates for a moment, voice even softer when he answers, “No.”
It’s dark. You can hardly make out his outline. Yet somehow, you both just know. Shifting, infitismally closer. Breaching the tiniest gap between you somehow feels like crossing the Grand Canyon. Your heart thumps in your chest, and you can feel it in your fingers, the fingers that trace cautiously along his jaw.
His mouth finally, finally, slotting against yours in the most gentle of kisses. A blink and you’d miss it.
And yet, in the same blink, your life changes forever.
When Rossi makes a speech at your wedding, he admits to being the thief of the missing keycard, and intentional orchestrator of the greatest love story he’s ever known. His words.
Permanent tagslist: @reidingmelodies @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician @calm-and-doctor @ssa-m-187 @seasonfivereid @averyhotchner @muffin-cup @purplewaterbottles082 @spencerreid9 @drspencerreidd @reidsnose
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The Supporting Role
Summary: Neither of you had expected his channel to grow so quickly...
Pairing: Corpse Husband/Reader
Word Count: 1,539
Warnings: Angst, Pain, Suffering, Neglect, My Usual Favorite Things To Write - But No Death! :) Also a cat.
She can hear him laughing from his recording room from her place in their couch and she draws her knees up to her chest in response. He was probably streaming, and he was definitely playing with the new friends that he’d made once he’d started gaming - nevermind that she was out here alone, waiting for him to join her before they went to bed at 3am like usual. Her phone buzzes with a text from her friend Dave, who had introduced her to Corpse, but she ignores it. All he’d do was tell her to go in there and talk to her boyfriend, that communication was key to a stable relationship and that if she didn’t tell Corpse how she felt that he wouldn’t ever know - as if she hadn’t already tried.
There’s a sudden thump against the couch as the weight of a living creature plops down on it. Her cat, Caesar, meows demandingly and bumps his head against her leg as if commanding her to hold him; she sighs before reaching over and picking up the Sphinx cat, letting him nuzzle up against her as soon as she cradled him to her chest. Her fingers drift across his soft pink skin and she quietly relishes the feeling of her own little bundle of joy in the form of a kitty nuzzling against her happily.
“At least someone’s down to spend time with me,” she mutters bitterly, holding him close. A loud roar of laughter came from the recording room and she almost glares at it in response. She sighs agin; she’d been doing that a lot lately. After giving him a soft kiss to the crown of his head she puts the cat down and stands, stretching before silently making her way down the hall in the direction of the bedroom she shared with her boyfriend. “Come on, Caesar, lets go to bed.”
The cat meowed once and followed along eagerly, pausing outside of the recording room and scratching at its door once before looking up at a stilled Y/N as if in complaint. She shakes her head in response, unwilling to tear her significant other from his work.
“No, Caesar, he’s not coming to bed with us tonight - not right now, anyway.”
Her voice is still bitter as it was before, but who would blame her? She’d not actually seen her boyfriend for more than an hour out of an entire week. She had a right.
Swallowing back an onslaught of lonely-driven tears, she rushes off to the bedroom they shared, her only saving grace being that she was wearing socks thick enough to deafen her rushed footsteps. The cat rushes after her, meowing almost in concern as she enters the bedroom swiftly and almost being bumped by the quickly closing door as she kicks it shut. As his mistress curls up in bed in nothing but a t-shirt and panties he jumps up beside her, softly hopping onto her hip and curling up himself before being pulled from his place.
His indignant meow turns into a soft, contented purr as she holds him against her chest and fights off her silent cries for what seemed like the millionth time.
Stretching as he walks into the living room, Corpse yawns. The stream that had felt like it had gone on forever was finally over and he was definitely ready to go to sleep with his beautiful girlfriend at his side.
He pauses as he finally gets a good look around the noticeably empty living room and quietly pass into the kitchen to see why on earth she was missing from her usual spot on the couch, but she wasn’t there either. Caesar’s food bowl was empty, so he’d been fed and had eaten, but the Sphinx cat was also nowhere to be seen. Looking back over his shoulder and to the hallway which he’d just come from, Corpse narrows his eyes. Had she gone to bed without him? She always waited. It was their little ritual - he’d stream until he’d been on long enough for him to finally say it was enough then he’d turn it off, and after that he’d come out to her bright smile, open arms, and gentle heartbeat.
Not this time.
No, this time he couldn’t seem to find her anywhere, so either she was in the bathroom with the cat at her feet meowing for attention (a quick check of said room proved otherwise) or she was in the bedroom alone with the cat.
Quietly slipping down the hallway max he stands in front of the closed bedroom door, mildly surprised. The door was always left open unless both of them and the cat were inside and getting ready for bed. Why she’d closed it absolutely confounded him. Shaking his soft shock off, he carefully turns the doorknob so it doesn’t make a sound and enters the bedroom, closing it the exact same way. He sheds his clothes and get ready for bed like always, continuously glancing over at the still lump beneath the sheets that he knew was his girlfriend.
He pulls the covers back carefully so she won’t get cold and crawls into bed next to her; they’d just talk about it tomorrow.
She quietly stands in the kitchen in her cut off pajamas, making breakfast for herself at the warm stove. She’d left her boyfriend in bed with the cat unlike her usual bout of waiting for him to get up so the two of them could spend the morning together - but, if he could blow off their dates, why couldn’t she blow off cuddles in the morning?
She didn’t really feel like being touched anyway.
She’s almost done with breakfast when Caesar comes running into the kitchen and worms his way in between her ankles and calves before rolling over and looking up at her brightly, his little nose and whiskers twitching. She rolls her eyes and gives him a soft smile.
“Oh fine, you greedy little thing,” she mutters affectionately, breaking off a small piece of cooked bacon for the teeny annoyance at her feet. She holds it between two fingers and lets her arm dangle lazily, prompting the cat to roll back over and carefully climb up her leg without scratching her or breaking the skin while after his treat. He reaches one paw up and bats at it until one of his claws hooks onto it. He brings said paw back down to his mouth and holds the treat there as he shimmies back down and goes to lay under the table where he could eat it in peace without the risk of accidentally being stepped on.
Meanwhile Corpse staggers into the kitchen area looking confused, almost as if he’d expected her to still be waiting in bed for him as if he hasn’t practically lived in his recording room for the past several weeks. He goes in to kiss her cheek, but she turns her head so he completely misses.
He doesn’t mention how much it stings.
They go about their day as usual: Corpse recording in his room for a few hours then streaming with his newfound friends for several lore and Y/N quietly suffering in every other area of the house that she was practically forced to live in alone - that’s why, instead of the one she usually shared with her boyfriend, she went to her old bedroom instead. It didn’t take long for Corpse to find her once he was done streaming.
“Baby, what are you doing in here?” he asks tiredly, peering into the darkness of Y/N’s old bedroom. She’d not been in here since she’d gone from roommate to girlfriend, so it was really odd. There wasn’t even any decoration in here anymore, all of the things that made the place hers having eventually migrated to his bedroom which suddenly just became theirs.
“I’m sleeping in here tonight,” is her response, and Corpse furrows his eyebrows in further confusion. Why would she sleep in here?
“Why?” he asks, vocally expressing his curiosity but not his concern.
“Because I want to sleep in here,” is all he gets, and he takes his bottom lip between his teeth and nibbles it silently before asking his next question.
“May I sleep in here with you?” he asks softly. Surely she’d let him curl up around her like she always said she loved when in bed together-
The stiff response genuinely stung almost as much as her avoidance of his kids that morning. She’d never told him no when it came to sleeping together, even before they dated. Sometimes he just didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts and she was always working late, so he’d come in here and doze off on the bed next to her while in the comfort of her company as she typed away at her laptop.
He quietly retreats from the room and shuts the door softly, never seeing how Y/N buried her face in her hands and silently sobbed. Maybe they should have stayed just roommates - and maybe she should have stuck to just being the supporting role.
It looks like that was all she was good for anyway.
Youtube - @bad268
Corpse Husband - @thanossexual @ourheavenlyemotions @insanedeathwish @xaestheticalien @easygoingtheatre @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @udontneedtokno
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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 23 | S.R.)
Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |
Summary: Spencer’s birthday plans get interrupted by a case. Frustrated by Reader’s busy schedule, Spencer finds a unique way to spend time with her.
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)
Content Warning: Mild exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Dom/sub, light choking, degradation/praise, sub space
Word Count: 7.3k
Waiting for Spencer Reid was an interesting position to be in. It was also, unfortunately, very, very common. You would think the IQ points would translate to efficiency, but you’d be very wrong. The only thing that boy does fast is read, and even that didn’t follow through to text messages, considering he’d read none of the six I’d sent him in the past hour.
So, naturally, as one does in an emergency, I called him. Unsurprisingly, the phone barely rang a second time before he picked up. Talking was, as we were both aware, his forte. Without even waiting for my greeting, his groggy voice came through the receiver with a song-like sound.
“Hello, little girl.”
But it wasn’t his turn to sing, and he knew damn well why I was calling. I could hear the smirk on his face so well that I could also envision exactly what he looked like in that moment, with his fluffy hair sticking up from constantly running his hands through it and his eyes only half-open as he tried to finish reading whatever horrible thing that he had in front of him.
It wasn’t how anyone should be spending their birthday. Especially not him. There wasn’t really anything I could do about it, though that didn’t make it any easier to hear the exhaustion and sadness behind that scratchy voice.
“What’re you doing up late? It’s past your bedtime, you know,” he chastised before I even had a chance to speak. He wasn’t wrong — It was 3AM where I was. But where he was, it’d just hit midnight.
“I just wanted to wish a happy birthday to my favorite old man,” I purred back once I’d managed to calm my fast-beating heart. I wondered if I’d ever get used to the brief rush of adrenaline and relief when I heard his voice for the first time after some time away.
I hoped not.
Spencer didn’t seem impressed by my reasoning, though.
“You’re sweet. Go to sleep.”
“You’re up, too,” I whined, still picturing the way he would undoubtedly pull the phone further away to lessen the noise. I almost asked if he was also picturing me but stopped when I realized that whatever he had in mind was probably a lot more exciting than reality. Then again, he often told me that moments like this were his favorite. When we’re both too tired to keep our eyes open but too happy to be with each other to let them close all the way.
“Barely,” he corrected.
“Besides, I had to stay up. It’s your birthday.”
I’d meant to lift his spirits, but the long pause after I finished made it evident that my efforts were for naught. He almost seemed even more upset than when he’d answered, and I tried to convince myself that it had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t that hard, considering he was probably staring at images or words of dead people.
“Yeah, sure feels like it.”
His tone alone ensured me it was worse than my imagination.
“Put your work down and pay attention to me instead,” I suggested as softly as I could with the neediness bleeding through, “That’s the first part of your present.”
“You’re my present?” he asked through a gruff laugh that made my heart skip a beat, “I like that present.”
He was trying. I could feel it in his voice, and I wished more than anything that I could teleport to where he was and hold him until it was too difficult for his mouth to form a frown.
“You already have me. That’d be like regifting,” I pointed out with only a pinch of self-deprecation. It was still too much for Spencer, though, who swiftly shot back the ever cheesy, “Every day with you is a gift.”
“Gross, don’t get all sentimental with me,” I ordered playfully.
He returned the energy with all the sass I always knew he was capable of. Once his whining ceased, he mumbled, “Do you come with a gift receipt?”
“No returns or exchanges allowed, I’m afraid.”
Spencer just let out a strained sigh, and in my head, I imagined how it would feel to climb onto his lap as he leaned back in his chair. I could almost feel his arms wrapping around my waist and his lips peppering kisses wherever he could reach. I could feel his love for me flowing across the country, persisting past the cell tower obstacles to make its way back to me.
“I can’t wait to see you again,” he whispered, his first purely sincere statement of the night.
It was an unfortunate choice, too, because it also reminded me of the biggest bummer that I unfortunately had to share.
“Oh, I meant to tell you, it’s midterm season, so…”
He was, thankfully, not as bummed as I was expecting. He was almost certainly thrilled to have a chance to sleep spread out on his bed without having to satisfy the very needy girl beside him, but he still managed to come up with enough bratty energy to scoff, “Are you telling me that I don’t get my gift when I get home?”
“It’ll just be a few days. Promise,” I spoke through the biggest, cheesiest smile I’d had yet. “You’re very distracting, Dr. Reid.”
“When are your exams?” His enthusiasm gave away just how disappointed he was with the news, but any frustration was clearly aimed at my poor professors.
“My last one is on Wednesday.”
The gasp that left him was too funny not to laugh, followed by exasperated, blubbered nonsense that didn’t ever get much clearer. I barely managed to understand him when he cried, “Don’t they know Halloween should be a national holiday?!”
“You should call my professors and yell at them.”
He actually considered it for a moment, but then returned the same silly intonation, “Maybe I will.”
“Do it. You’re probably more qualified than them to teach me, anyway.”
After a short silence that was filled with more sexual tension than I’d expected considering how the phone call started, I heard Spencer gruffly comment, “You’re a cocky little brat tonight.”
It was so familiar to me that I jumped on the opportunity, giggling through my sleep deprived delirium, “I’m in rare form for your birthday.”
The explanation earned me a chuckle, but not much else. At least, not that I could see. The static on the other end of the phone sounded a lot like the way it looked when Spencer leaned his face against his palm and tried to see something that wasn’t there.
But I was there. Sort of. We’d done a lot more with a lot less, after all. So, that’s what I offered him.
“You know… we could have a redo of the last time I called you late at night on a case.”
“That did not end well for me last time,” he droned. I tried not to laugh at the manufactured memory of Spencer holed up in a hotel bathroom because he just had to have me in whatever way he could.
“Only happy endings for your birthday. I promise.”
But then, as it always did, work got in the way. Filled with only the greatest sadness and regret, Spencer quietly but honestly replied, “As much as I would love to, I don’t think it’ll be possible on this case.”
“Is it that bad?”
I bit my lip because there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t help Spencer with his work any more than I could fix the distance. All I could offer him was a safe home to return to. He would always find that with me.
“Well, in that case, I will be equipped with cartoons and kisses upon your return,” I offered with grace.
But I wasn’t the only one in rare form. Without skipping a beat, Spencer corrected with a smug sadness, “You mean your return. Considering you’re abandoning me on my birthday.”
“Oh my god, the drama!” I cried before remembering that it was, still, in fact, 3AM. The light grimace I gave after remembering would be the only apology my neighbors would get from me. I was too busy building a narrative happy enough to drown out the horrors in front of him. “You’d think I was the one who was away all the time.”
“I’m allowed to be selfish; it’s my birthday,” he sang, and I soaked in the sound, storing it away for any rainy days.
“Fine. What do you want, brat?” I asked in the worst attempt at an impression I’d ever given.
He was just waiting for the question. Drawing out the first couple of syllables, he laughed through the stupidest birthday wish of all time.
“I want… you to go to bed.”
“Ugh!” I yelled again, not even bothering to feel bad about it that time. My exasperation fell on deaf ears, both from a willful desire to ignore my suffering and a literal ringing from the constant yelling.
Still, that impossible man drummed up enough compassion to gloat with a simple, “I love you.”
“I love you, too, jerk,” I grumbled, only to be swiftly corrected with a playful, “Try that again.”
“I love you, too, old man.”
He was satisfied enough with that answer, despite the sarcasm dripping from it. He still knew that the words were true, and that was all that mattered. Any punishments that might be necessary for my broken promise to behave for his birthday could always be doled out later. When the distance between us was narrowed to inches and clothes could be removed like cheap wrapping paper.
“Thank you, little girl. Sweet dreams,” he whispered, reminding me once more of just how empty my bed felt without him. I stared at his pillow for just one second before I threw myself into it. He chuckled at the sound of rustling sheets over the receiver but said nothing else.
“You get some sleep tonight, too, okay?” I asked, uncharacteristically and openly vulnerable in a way that used to scare me.
Spencer’s voice was filled with pride and love as he answered, “You can’t see it, but I am giving you a pinky promise.”
“Good.” Burying my face in his pillow again made it easier to remember that it wouldn’t be forever when I said, “Bye, Spencer.”
“Goodnight, little girl.”
Autumn on campus felt pretty similar to the rest of the year. I wished that it were different, a little more exciting, to reflect how I felt about the impending holiday. But no, it was just students stumbling into their usual classes and hectically scheduled midterms with hangovers and a total lack of holiday cheer.
It was, in a few words, a complete bummer. The only thing that kept me going through the last of my exams was the knowledge that I’d be seeing Spencer. Unfortunately, he was still doing that rather annoying thing where he refused to answer my text messages. It wasn’t until he ignored even my most ridiculous threats that I realized something was going on.
The ‘Read’ notification sat menacingly on my screen, and I was so fixated on it that I almost didn’t notice the familiar mop of brown curls visible in the front row of the auditorium. But once I saw it, the phone was forgotten faster than ever before. I ran down the steps at a ridiculously dangerous pace, dodging the others still grumbling from their previous exams.
I landed in front of him with only enough breath left to sneer, “You’re in my seat.”
“Surprise,” he said with my favorite smug, self-assured smile.
“Adorable. Now move,” I ordered with a wave of my hand. As much as I loved the guy, I wasn’t about to change my seating arrangement for him. It was beginning to make sense, though, why my friend told me that she wouldn’t be sitting with me today.
“Fine,” he sighed, taking his sweet time moving seats and watching me happily bounce on my feet in the meantime. I snuck behind him into the seat before he’d even fully stood up. That little amount of friction between our bodies seemed to be enough to cause the tension to mount. It’d only been seconds, but I was already seriously considering abandoning the class. To hell with the professor who’d already seen me.
But Spencer’s eyes locked on mine, and he leaned onto the armrest with that same silly smirk.
“It’s a workday, Dr. Reid,” I whispered, forcing my arm next to his and watching the way his pupils grew as I came closer.
“I might have pulled a few strings,” he replied just as quietly, keeping the illusion of secrecy despite many prying eyes around us, “Might’ve told Hotch I was invited.”
“But you weren’t,” I snorted.
Spencer’s head hung in just a little bit of shame, but his wide smile never waned. It was still there, bright and pure in its simplicity as he softly admitted, “Yeah. I lied. But I’m here now.”
There were no complaints about that fact, either. His pinky reached out to mine, twining together in the dim light of the auditorium. Somehow, for a brief second, I forgot about everything else. The noisy chatter meant nothing to me, the two of us lost in some alternate pocket universe that felt safe and warm from the cold air outside.
But time resumed, and I watched as Spencer took his eyes off of me first, turning instead to the lecturer watching us with a knowing glint in his eyes.
“Good morning everyone! We have a special guest with us today.”
I wanted to pay attention to his little introduction, but I couldn’t. Every word that was said about him sounded so clinical. It felt so empty compared to the truth I knew about him. He was so much more than a collection of publications and PhDs.
He was… indescribable. Even as his mouth formed a flat line and his awkward handshake was granted to the crowds of disinterested students, all I saw was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Even if it was only from the shadows of his greatness. Then again, I don’t think he’d ever let me feel that way.
"Dr. Reid, the only thing I ask is for you to give these wonderful students a chance to show you what they know,” my professor started with a laugh before he so kindly continued, “So go easy on them."
In any other situation, I might have let it slide. I would have accepted the fact that Spencer was far beyond my intellect and not stand up for myself. But this time, Spencer was on my turf.
"All due respect to Dr. Reid, I don't think he needs to go easy on us,” I called from the front row, only audible to the other dutiful students that cared enough to sit up front. I heard Spencer laugh beside me, shaking his head just a little bit at the challenge. He didn’t say anything though, and I returned my eyes to the professor who was already familiar with my antics as I boasted, "At least not on me."
While Spencer caught on to the fairly obvious double entendre, shifting his crossed legs closer, the professor just wrote it off as my usual academic pride.
“I did try to warn you that that one might get competitive,” he commented. At this point, everyone had definitely figured out my relation to the man next to me. It was kind of hard to hide a bullet wound from your school. But again, I was so caught up in the man beside me that I didn’t even feel a little shame at their playful teasing.
Spencer’s commentary was the only thing that mattered, and he gave it with a dreamy sigh. "I'm not offended at all. I'm sure she's very clever."
The little bit of light left in the room started to fade, and once I was shrouded by the shadows, I felt confident enough in my plan to dig through the bag at my feet to pull out probably the nerdiest item in it.
A fucking back-up clicker. Which, I promptly handed to the man beside me.
“You’re in seat B4,” I whispered gruffly, earning yet another snarky chuckle from my boyfriend.
“Is that a challenge?”
I didn’t answer. Not him, anyway. What I did answer was the question that had appeared on the screen.
“Ms. (Y/n)?” My professor called, recognizing my seat number without even looking up.
Luckily for me, today was nothing but a review day of the midterm I’d already taken. While I knew all of the questions and, what I’d hoped were the right answers, Spencer had to read the questions from scratch. Really, it didn’t give me an edge. It just put us on equal playing ground.
As I gave my answer, I watched in my peripherals as Spencer’s eyes narrowed and tongue peeked out from lips that I still hadn’t gotten the chance to kiss today.
It was a bad thing to think about, because my brief reverie of the things that mouth was capable of reminded me of another one. I didn’t even notice another question had appeared on the screen, and when I heard the familiar buzz of an attempted answer, I shared my Professor’s temporary confusion.
“Ah, Dr. Reid,” he laughed, probably already regretting welcoming the bastard here, “Please explain the answer.”
But there was another thing working in my favor: My boyfriend’s giant fucking ego. Really, it should be impossible that someone who was normally super insecure could enjoy showing off as much as he did. My professor didn’t mind, because Spencer’s long-winded answer was a wonderful review of… basically the entire course, and I didn’t mind because it granted me the one thing I needed.
Time. Time to slowly remove my jacket and reveal the sweater underneath. Spencer’s eyes caught the motion, glancing over only a couple of times while he managed to give his answer. It wasn’t until I started to remove the sweater that he cut his answer short.
His throat clearing told me he wanted my attention, but I was still just too distracted for him. I fanned my chest that felt warm for reasons other than the temperature of the room, guaranteeing his eyes would stay there long enough for me to catch the next question before he had a chance.
Or so I thought. Because before the question appeared, I made the positively stupid mistake of meeting his gaze. As soon as I did, my mind was stuck there, drowning in molasses and honey and—
“Dr. Reid, please feel free to continue to do my job for me. Lord knows I would love a break,” the professor joked, and I almost felt guilty for just how genuine he sounded. Not like Spencer would have noticed passive aggression if it existed.
Not like either of us would have cared. Per usual, we were so lost in the space of B4 and B5 that we didn’t care about the rest of the alphabet. All we cared about was winning. It was growing more and more obvious to me, though, that I would have to become a little more ruthless if I wanted to bring down the bona fide genius.
The sound of his voice rang through the auditorium loud, clear, and confident. He didn’t need to worry if he was right or not, because he knew he was. The smugness was grating to my ears. I knew I couldn’t trick him into making a mistake, but there was one thing I could do.
I’d learned one thing very well in my time with Spencer, and that was how to manipulate that pretty little voice of his.
For example, if I wanted to hear it catch in his throat and come out a few pitches higher, all I would have to do is touch him. The riskier the touch, the higher his voice would go. Which was why I spread out the jacket over my lap, making sure that our legs were close enough that it covered him, too. Then I waited, calmly and kindly listening to him drone along until there was a natural enough inflection to hide evidence of any nefarious actions. Just as his voice started to rise, I slid my hand over his knee.
Spencer barely stuttered, just enough for me to know he was affected, but not enough for anyone else to notice. He took the loss with grace, quickly ending his answer with a summary that contained only half as many words as he would have normally provided.
He kept a few for me.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, shifting close enough to me that I could feel his breath on my ear.
“All’s fair in love and war,” I hummed. His breath caught again when I began stroking my thumb over his leg that had just started to bounce.
“This is wildly inappropriate.”
“How perceptive,” I returned with my own little smirk. The interaction caught us both, trapping us in the alternate dimension that existed when we held each other. His hand found its way to mine, and his thumb brushed over the back and sent goosebumps shooting over my skin.
I’d practically abandoned our pursuits altogether when I heard my friend’s voice as she took the question that we’d both missed. I should’ve been upset for losing after all that I’d gone through for my strategy to succeed, but it was hard to feel anything other than butterflies when Spencer was still looking at me like that.
Even when I looked away, he stayed, patiently waiting for me to take the final question in the review. I granted him a chance to take it, but he just shook his head, implicitly asking me to take the win for the both of us. Even when we were competing, we were always on the same team.
There were no more distractions as I explained the answer as simply as I could. I was positive the rest of the class was tired of hearing our voices, but Spencer never stopped smiling. I could feel the pride rolling off of him, his hand growing tighter around mine as he took in a deep breath.
“Very good, (y/n),” my professor announced, signaling the end and initiating a large sigh of relief from everyone else.
Spencer sighed too, although his was with a different kind of relief; a dreamy, soft sound as he muttered under his breath, “Just like I said. Very clever.”
The air felt positively electric, and I never hated my class more than I did in that moment. The rest of the period ticked by so slowly that I almost swore the clocks were broken. Once we were allowed to leave, Spencer insisted on sticking around to thank the professor for his hospitality.
I knew it was necessary, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I tried to be as patient as possible, even though it seemed pointless. Spencer’s little grin told me he knew very well what he was doing. The conversation had dragged on for practically five minutes of agony while I idled by the door.
But then my professor passed, and I felt the adrenaline course through my veins in seconds. As anticipated, we didn’t even make it out of the building before the tension broke. We’d barely even made it down the goddamn hallway before I shoved his scrawny ass into the first empty classroom I found. Once the door clicked shut behind us, the roles were quickly reversed.
I hadn’t seen him that excited in so long that I’d almost forgotten how easy it was to get swept up in his undertow. I couldn’t keep track of his hands or his mouth as they marked any bare skin they could find. But no matter how frantic and uncoordinated the movements were, they never ceased to send chills down my spine.
“This is wildly inappropriate, Dr. Reid,” I managed to slur between sloppy, heated kisses. It was barely comprehensible through the pent-up lust that had driven us there in the first place, but it still felt worth saying.
Spencer, however, made his feelings very clear with a gruff, forceful, “I don’t care.”
His hands were already roaming over my hips, pulling me so close to the edge that I nearly fell off the counter entirely. While I was laughing at his haste, he was busy leaving angry marks on my collarbone, pulling the top of my shirt down to grant him more access. And despite how badly my body burned with desire and need, I drummed up just enough self-preservation to force out a few, regrettable words.
“Take me home.”
Even though I tried to make it sound more seductive than a normal request to stop, it brought the momentum to a halt. Spencer immediately stopped his kisses, but let his hands continue to stroke loving patterns over the sides of my thighs.
“Don’t you have other classes?” he asked. The feeling of his breath against my ears making me second-guess my already voiced decision. But as enticing as the idea was of having him now, having already waited over a week, I knew we could have so much more fun with a little bit of privacy.
“Don’t you have work?” I teased, hoping that it would spur him to take the action we both knew was safer. At the same time, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to poke fun at the academic in him.
“Unless this is your way of telling me you've always wanted to fuck a girl in a lab because, I must admit I'd be more than happy to oblige."
Spencer’s whole body tensed as he imagined just what it would feel like to take me in such a public place. After a couple seconds that I can only imagine were filled with fantasies and a reasonable fear, he pulled me from my seat on the counter and placed me back on the ground.
“Let’s go,” he said, pulling me by my wrist towards the door.
I only barely managed to stop him with both hands on his arm. He turned back to look at me like I’d done some horrible thing, but I was too busy trying to stop the laughter that was spilling from my chest.
“You’re uh—” I cleared my throat, pointing to the very noticeable tent in his slacks before I keened through the giggles, “You’re gonna have to do something about that.”
With a quick glance down, Spencer remembered the very unfortunately obvious trait of the male anatomy. “Fuck,” he stated plainly.
I couldn’t resist.
“I mean, I’m down,” I joked one final time.
“Shut up!” Spencer laughed, too, trying and failing to adjust himself in his pants while I just enjoyed the show.
After all, we both knew that once we were alone, he would get a reprieve from my ridicule. He would get whatever he wanted.
The chaotic clashing of hands and mouths continued seconds after we’d reached our destination. The empty apartment had all of the sounds of our desperation echoing back to us, and after soaking in the melodious noise for a few seconds, I snapped back to reality.
“Okay, she doesn’t get home for another 30 minutes at the earliest so, we’d better hurry,” I urged, trying to shove Spencer off of me to convince him to move. It barely worked, with his arms clutching tighter the harder I struggled to get away.
Wrapped together just like that, the two of us barely made it a few feet before we almost tumbled to the ground. That was just enough of a reminder of our lack of coordination for Spencer to finally, begrudgingly, release me. Kind of. His hand still held tight to mine, and our laughter still combined the whole way to our bed.
From there, Spencer felt confident in our privacy to answer, “That’s fine. I usually tear open my gifts pretty quickly.”
It was a very good metaphor for the way his hands worked over my clothes. I didn’t even try to pinpoint the moment where being naked no longer made me feel nervous. I let the scar tissue show because neither of us were going to look at it, anyway. We were too caught up in the slight shifts and nuances of our faces as we rushed towards our one mutual goal.
“I missed you,” I mumbled, the words feeling as natural as breathing itself.
“I missed you, too,” he returned, and I felt the raw emotion, the sincerity and desire in every syllable. But once it was over and he had finally managed to remove everything but my underwear, all that was left was an all-encompassing, mind-altering level of lust.
“God, watching you in class was so fucking frustrating,” he strained, his upper lip curling with disdain as he watched my body squirm against the sheets.
“I wanted you so badly.”
There was no denying that it was the honest truth, and I didn’t even want to try. I wanted to gloat and bask in the confirmation that his presence was dangerous for my academic career. Not to mention my sanity.
“Like I said. You’re very distracting.”
Then, to prove my point, that brilliant bastard shoved his hand under the band of my underwear. He only held me softly for one second before he slid his fingers through the slickness and thrust them roughly into me. It hadn’t been that long, but the emptiness I felt before was even more apparent now that I had any part of him inside of me again.
“Am I?” he chimed with a smile.
I wanted to be bratty, to fight the tension that was building and appear unfazed by his ministrations, but there was simply no pretending. Not when my body was already on the verge of spasming around his fingers that seemed to stroke the perfect place within me with every movement.
“Jesus Christ,” I sighed. I should’ve known better than to give him ammunition.
“You’ve resorted to blasphemy already?”
Spencer partnered the tease with a ruthless thrust, burying his fingers to the knuckle inside of me and holding them there. He waited until I ran out of breath and struggled to take another while also trying not to scream in a mixture of frustration and devastating need for more.
“I thought I told you we had to hurry?”
“We’ve got time,” he shot back without pause, “You’re just being a needy little brat.”
“Yes, I am,” I whined just as quickly, “I’m a fucking brat and I need you.”
He almost seemed disappointed in my compliance. His fingers began moving again, eliciting noises that were louder, higher, and sweeter after the anticipation. He tried to draw the attitude out of me by stopping again, waiting for a quip that didn’t come.
“Awww, no fight?” he cooed.
“I can’t. It’s your birthday,” I grumbled before biting my tongue. The pressure was becoming so unbearable I thought I might honestly draw blood. But after another few seconds of torture that felt like a lifetime, Spencer withdrew his hand completely.
He was testing the limits, watching how far I would let him go before begging. But even when he took the same soaked fingers and began rubbing me from the outside of my underwear, I only opened my mouth to steal quick, soft breaths and give pitiful whines.
“Oh, I like this…” he laughed, apparently having gotten past his concern about my sudden compliance, “I could get used to you behaving.”
The song-like cadence got to me, threatening to spark and ignite everything I was holding back. I almost bit back. I almost let the desire scorch my throat with a few choice words for the very rude genius, but I didn’t. The only thing that stopped me was the feel of cotton sliding down my thighs as he removed the final barrier between us.
“You’d miss my misbehaving,” I said with a chuckle. The sound mixed with another, a deep moan that filled my chest when I felt him press himself against my entrance. My back arched, causing him to slip inside of me just enough for us to both lose our words.
“I don’t know…”
If I’d wanted to say anything, my mouth wouldn’t have let me. It was too busy singing his praise while simultaneously begging him to silence it. My lips floundered for a kiss that he hung just far enough away from me to deny. Satisfaction was painted over every feature as he started to enter me, brushing his lips against my mouth every few seconds just to pull away before I was granted the intimacy I sought.
“You do look rather cute when you’re begging.”
It was strange, the way my body started to predict his movements. I met him in the middle of every motion, and I swore even our breath became synchronized in its rapid firing. It wasn’t until his hand rested over my throat we broke the rhythm. I wasn’t going to complain, letting the energy flow down my spine that arched towards him on instinct. His hips never stopped, and I could tell by the way his breath hitched and his fingers grew tighter around my neck that the new angle was as wonderful for him as it was for me.
“You look so sweet when you let go of every ounce of self-preservation and dignity you have and put your life in my hands,” he whispered with an affection that almost seemed odd considering the context. But then there was something else in his moans, a genuine gentleness that made my already arrhythmic heart beat faster.
“You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you?” he asked as his movements stayed calm and careful. Loving and safe.
I didn’t even notice my eyes had closed, but it ultimately didn’t matter. Because when I opened them, I saw the same man that existed in every image behind my eyelids. The only indication he got that I was still capable of communication was the gentle curve of my lips that dropped open in a pleased sigh as his hips continued a slow, tender pace.
It still felt like too much, but not in a bad way. It was too much in the sense that I was reminded once again just how ruined he’d made me. And the smug little shit knew it, too.
“You don’t have a single thought in that pretty little head, do you?” he cooed, dragging his hand up the column of my throat to force his fingers against my tongue. True to my word, I didn’t try to fight back. I soaked the digits that still tasted like me with my jaw left open. His pupils dilated as he watched the spit pool in my mouth that awaited his instruction.
“You just want to be used. Like the perfect little doll you are.”
Unlike my own, his smile was more of a smirk. A crooked, ever so slightly wicked quirk that made my muscles tense around him in their own version of an affirmative answer. He took it, happily. His body crashed into mine, but it merely felt like an extension of myself returning home like the waves meeting the shore. I could feel him claiming his rightful place at the deepest parts of me, making his home with every powerful motion of his hips.
I could hardly breathe, let alone think. I didn’t want to. It felt unnecessary.
“My sweet little girl,” he muttered with an unbelievably chaste kiss in the center of my forehead, “You’d do anything to make your daddy happy.”
I felt detached from myself in a way that didn’t feel me with fear or pain. I could feel myself through his hands, strong and working the pliable flesh of my thighs as he held them up so that he could drive into me harder.
His eyes, also only half open, burned with intensity. I could feel the determination, the undying desire to grant me a serenity that no one else could. His need for me to feel safe and loved with the seemingly contradictory brutality.
But it wasn’t contradictory. The power behind every movement, the insistence on being as close to me as he possibly could, might have caused some physical pain, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure of sharing this space with him. Of sharing my body with him just to see what he would do with it. I already knew, but I wanted to feel it again and again. Because with each stroke of his hand and thrust of his hips, I felt it.
Spencer had free rein to do whatever he wanted, and he chose to love me.
“I’m so close. You know what I want,” he pleaded despite holding all of the power. He handed it to me with a low groan, trying to kiss my lips while he commanded, “Do it. Come for me.”
My body obeyed his command, falling to pieces around him with shockwaves breaking over every inch of me. My vision went white, crafting a halo of light around him as he also found himself reaching a peak that seemed different than the times we’d shared before.
I tried to figure out what had changed, what about this time made it unique. But as the euphoria faded, all I saw staring back at me was the same face as always, radiating a joy and understanding that warmed damp, chilly skin. Spencer’s release provided a similar warmth within me, and my body clung to him even tighter despite the exhaustion.
My breathing took its time to even out, but I was in no rush to leave him. I would have stayed like that forever, with Spencer covering me like the silliest, boniest blanket. If it wasn’t for the dead weight he eventually dropped on me, we probably would’ve spent the whole day lost in the covers. But he could thank the scars for me being a little less forgiving.
Of course, thankful is not the word to describe him at all. Whiny was more like it. Even as I turned our bodies together so that I would still be sitting on his lap, he did nothing but groan and bitch about it. That is, until I silenced him with a kiss that barely brushed over his lips.
That was enough to turn his frown back to the dopey smile I loved so much.
“Happy birthday, old man,” I purred, enjoying the way his hands grabbed me tighter at the loving nickname. But age wasn’t what was on his mind. I could see it in the way his eyes tore past my defenses and he held me closer like we could actually become one if he tried hard enough.
“I’m so in love with you, it’s infuriating,” he whispered.
“I’ve heard that one before.”
Spencer wasn’t in a joking mood, though. All of his humor seemed to be expended earlier in the day, and now he was just left with all the mushy, romantic innards that I normally kept at bay.
It wasn’t that bad, though, I thought as his hands framed my face so our foreheads would touch. There were worse things to be trapped with.
“It’s true,” he mumbled with his voice still high and slurred together, “I look at you and there is just… nothing that can be said that would ever explain the way it feels.”
“Gross,” I joked.
“Get used to it,” he returned. And if that wasn’t enough to make me laugh, he stuck his tongue out in the most childish display I’d seen from him since he’d fucking licked my hand on our picnic. It was also just charming enough that I was willing to let the sappy stuff slide.
“I’ll be nice to you this time,” I grumbled. “But also, speaking of time, you’d better hurry up if you don’t want to do the walk of shame with an audience.”
Spencer’s arms fell limp with a dramatic cry before he used them to cover his face once more.
“Ugh. Go,” he ordered. Despite his words, he still made me fight against greedy hands to wrestle my way out of bed. It would have been smarter to let me go quickly. I really don’t know what he was thinking, but he would learn his mistake soon enough. Because as I was finishing up in the bathroom, I heard a very amused voice chiming down the hall on the other side of the door.
“Good afternoon, Spencer.”
I debated not opening the door and freeing Spencer from the unbelievably uncomfortable position he’d just found himself in, but ultimately decided it was too cruel. Still, the stalling had taken up enough time that the poor guy felt compelled to reply.
And, of course, the only thing he could think to say was a pathetic, high pitched, “Hi.”
Somehow managing to contain the absolutely riotous laughter I felt in my gut, I opened the door with the straightest face I could muster.
It wasn’t enough. Spencer saw the pleasure I took in his humiliation and practically shoved me out of the bathroom to take my place behind the doors. While I found the action endearing in the most awkward way, my roommate was mostly just confused about how the fuck I’d managed to find someone as stupid as me.
“I didn’t know he was coming,” she said once she managed to smile at the silly situation.
Clearing my throat, I tried to sound sincere in my bullshit apology. “Me either, sorry.”
In a way, I think the fact I couldn’t pull myself together worked in my favor. Normally, she would have scolded me (albeit playfully) for not alerting her of what she might be walking in on, but this time, she just tried to withhold the smile that still stretched over her cheeks despite her best efforts.
“You’re fine,” she sighed, giving in to the desire to go against her usual grumpy demeanor before retreating to her own room. “Have fun, you hooligans.”
Once her door clicked shut, I heard shuffling on the other side of the door next to me. Spencer’s shadow was visible from the light peeking out underneath, and I waited a few more restless seconds before I announced, “You can come out now, Spencer.”
Cautiously, the door creaked open just enough for his head to poke out and confirm that I wasn’t trying to trick him.
“I’ve never been a hooligan before,” he said with a bounce in his step and his eyebrows halfway up his face. To think that he was the same man who threatened to arrest me for existing at a nightclub was, in a word, hilarious.
“Well, good news for you,” I purred, and the sound must have reminded him of my more devilish nature, because his jubilance quickly shifted back to an obvious anxiety. I wrapped my arms around him even when it meant that his muscles tensed, dragging him down so I could whisper in his ear, “I was just about to ask if you wanted to help me play hooky.”
“And do what?”
It felt strange to say that I hadn’t really thought about it. That the second I’d seen him I knew that the day would be good and free and fun. That everything felt so perfectly fine that I didn’t even want to challenge it with a schedule.
Spencer looked at me, his answer apparent in the way he started to relax the longer we stayed wrapped up in a shitty apartment hallway. It didn’t matter what I said. Spencer would have followed me, just like I would have done for him.
And without the angst or uncertainty of what could go wrong, there was only one thing left for us to do. With a shrug and pout, I proposed the riskiest plan we’d had yet.
“Whatever we want.”
| Finale |
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Peaky Blinder survey... results!
We got 254 answers and I’m going to keep the survey open, because why not?
I had a hard time preparing the data, and it’s far from beautiful, but fuck it. It’s data not art xD But while I was working on the charts, I had so many other questions popping up in my mind, which should have been in the survey, sad, but maybe another time.
Sometimes I had to leave out the characters who only got one vote, but I write those names below the chart. I also didn’t put every answer here, because this would be exhausting to read, just the best ones, which were somehow funny and made me laugh for 30 sec.
Your favorite character
Aberama Gold, Curly, Billy Kimber, Cyril, Barney Thompson,
How unexpected... The winner is Tommy. Surprise
Your least favorite character
We sure do hate pedophiles and Grace. Nice!
Esme Shelby, Luca Changretta, Karl Thorne, Winston Churchill
Oh, this is remarkable! The fandom couldn’t decide, but there are so many assholes in the series... it was really tough to chose.
Who deserved better?
Luca Changretta, Ollie, Isiah Jesus, Charlie Strong, Ruby Shelby, Karl Thorne
JOHN BOY! He deserved better!
Tommy wasn’t an option, but he is on this list nevertheless! Awesome!
Favorite female character
No love for Grace and Linda, well... you get what you serve, right?
Favorite male character
Resurrect one character
Kill one character
Marry one character
69 ;) even though Tommy prefers cowgirl or reversed cowgirl and we all know that!
Least favorite ship
Is the fandom dying?
Sorry, I forgot the votes on that one, but it was 3am guys q.q
Who has the best mustache?
and now... the best answers!
Kill one character
she already dead but grace please for fucks sake
Michael. Urgh. Not even an arsehole just an actual nuisance I want to swat.
Alfie because its about damn time
Oswald Mosley (can u believe that f*cker lived so long irl)
grace’s ghost that keep occurring to tommy
Grace. All over again. Kill her ghost. Kill her illusion that lives in Tommy’s head.
Michaels lady friend
Oswald Mosley that fascist pig
Resurrect one character
Grace Shelby (don't @ me)
FREDDIE!!!!!! jessie + freddie = communist world domination
Campbell to kill him again
Marry one character
Michael before he was a bitch tbh
Tommy Shelby but not really
esme (she has 2 hands- one for me and one 4 john boy)
Winston Churchill :D
Polly the queen of milfs can I get an amen
Tommy but he would be a bad husband
Weird headcanons about PB
Tommy only eats leaves
Isiah only taught Finn to read bible verses so Finn randomly starts calling out bible verses
Tommy and Freddie used to be lovers before Tommy became a gangster
magic could technically be real in the show
Pol is a contributing factor in the death of Tommy's mum
The whole Shelby family are massive Birmingham City fans and if they were around today Arthur would be the guy who ran on the pitch to try and punch Aston Villa player Jack Grealish
Arthur and John used to have a secret stash of candy when they were young, but both forgot their hiding place and legend has it the candy is still where they left it.
Johnny Dogs is a Leprechaun
Arthur can kill on the dancefloor, no matter if it's traditional ball room dancing or the more modern ones
Tommy doesn't know about STDs
john was too thicc to die hes fine
Grace is wilfully ignoring a lot of things about marrying a gangster and the life of constant danger and watching her back that would ensue. And that she'll probably have some difficulty accepting Tommy and Charlie's Roma culture because of ingrained anti-Roma sentiment among non-Roma people. I feel like if she had survived we'll see interesting clashes because they're 2 characters from radically different worlds, with different perceptions of society and money.
I have too much sex to come up with Headcanons
That they all overdosed and dreaming this in a coma
that finn is only their half brother
Finn can't stand Michael
Polly has definitely thought about murdering Grace more than once
Not mine but the hc that Bonnie loves cats and finds them everywhere and brings them back to camp. Also that John is a huge dog person and lets his hunting dogs in to sleep around the fire at night despite Esme's objections!
Actual baker Alfie
michael’s mustache is an official allegiance to fascism
tommy shelby is steven knight’s self insert
John is always eating snacks
Thomas Shelby will be alone at the end of the world, surrounded by piles of cash and realise he lost everything he loved for something meaningless
(not originally mine, but i love it anyway) tommy and luca knew each other when they were kids, before luca left for america, and it's because of the memory of their close relationship that tommy can't shoot luca himself - that's why arthur ultimately pulls the trigger instead.
Tommy Shelby literally has brain damage from season 3
i mean, they run around with razors in. their. hats. just...razors. in hats.
That all their haircuts signify mental health 💀
John's breeding kink
People who have Bonnie as their favourite character have NPC energy. Also ghost!grace is a hallucination from the brain trauma
mustaches are bad and i will forcibly eraticate them all
How did you even think about multiple choices?!?? I mean...Michael are you fucking kidding me!!??? The only acceptable answer is ARTHUR but with Alfie in second place
@alreadybroken aka lifeofsnark
Seemingly incurable sadness
Galatea in Bondage
Baptism by Fire by suethor
“Down the hourglass” by SummerJay
Anything by mintjam
God there is a very good Arthur x OMC one on Ao3 but I forget the name. Womething about shame or that unwanted animal. There are only like 4 to look through
there’s a rose Shelby series on ao3 she’s Tommy’s daughter
Comebackjessica - Fools On Jazz
everything eehms on ao3 writes and everything petrichorus on tumblr draws
you will want to thank and thank someone quietly by owj95
Tommy's Red Right Hand by HisRedRightHand
Choking on Sapphires by boogiewrites
Basically anything written by alreadybroken
Testament of Emily Colton by positive_kathi25
Women business on Ao3
The Last War by @alreadybroken on Ao3
This Bed of Shattered Bone by deadendtracks (amonitrate)
Live a lie series by MintJam
"I Do" by @abusivelittlebun
Incarnadine series on AO3
Halloween Heist by WallflowerWrites
Recommendations for tumblr
The serie "Shirts" by twistedrunes
His own peace of heaven by the sea by boogiewrites
When in France pt.1 & pt.2 by peakascum
Little Lady Blinder - hb.writes. It’s honestly amazing, different kind of fic as it’s centred around a sister aka Clara.
Teddy Shelby series by theshelbyclan
Love will make us by pollyrepenst
Cats by raccoon-is-my-spirit-animal
The Angel on Fire series by murderousginger
“Deal with the Devil” and “Silver Linings” by Irishwhiskeys
All preferences by BonniesGoldenGirl
Cross my heart by fxckingthefictional
I hope you had fun!
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Getting out of that Creative Funk
2020 has taken a few things from us all. For a lot of us creatives we’ve felt stuck. Unmotivated. Blocked. It can be hard to sit down and create as we did when our lives were a whole lot more normal. If you’re feeling this way, here are a few things you could try doing to get back into your creative groove. However, everyone is different, so finding that thing that gives you motivation could take some time and many attempted methods. As with my last post I suggest you first show a little perseverance and patience.
* Personally, the times when I feel the least creative are the times when i’ve let the magic fade from the world. I forget about all the good things I have going for myself. Grab a journal or just sit and think and take some time to go over the good things you have going in your life right now. Relationships. Good laughs you’ve had this year despite the pandemic. The roof over your head. That joy your favorite music gives you when you listen.
* Take time to enjoy your favorite time of day, whether that’s in the still quiet of early morning when no one’s awake or in the waning light of the afternoon sun, when your windows light up to gold. Enjoy your moment with no distractions. Enhance the moment however you see fit with candles, music, hot chocolate etc.
* Go through your old stuff. See how far you’ve come. Think about your proudest creative moments. Relive those memories.
* Turn off the tv. Put your phone away. Enjoy the simple moments.
* If you still don’t feel a little more inspired, go back to your favorite things that inspire you and immerse yourself in them for a few days, marinating. Read your favorite books and poetry, gaze at that beautiful art, listen to that music all day while doing peaceful things, watch those movies that inspired you again. Rekindle that joy.
* I love to explore my childhood joys. They were so innocent and lighthearted. Try rereading your favorite childhood books(My Percy Jackson books are almost falling off the bone), watching Disney movies, reading your old journals. Be silly and try to take back your life by enjoying it as you would before the world came crashing down on you. Bake cookies, buy a whole bunch of junk from the dollar store and indulge yourself.
* Forget about everything else, everyone else. Remember the reason why you create. You create for you, no one else. You create because it makes you feel whole. Forget about all the outside pressures and take the time to create something for yourself. Yes, of course you can show people when you’re done if you want to, but push that thought out of your head. This is for you, this is for your soul. Once everyone else is out of the picture you can create something you truly want to, not something you think other people will want to see. This can be as weird or scandalous as you like. It can be messy or silly. It can be embarrassing and honest. It can be something you’ve made 1000 times before or it can be a completely new challenge you’ve always wanted to try. It’s for you.
* Don’t judge yourself. Be kind. You haven’t created anything mindfully in a while. You’re just greasing yourself up. It doesn’t have to be perfect, it should just be you. That in itself is a different type of perfection, a beautiful one because it’s honest.
* Promise yourself not to compare. Comparison is the thief of joy. Comparison can even stop progress from happening. Comparison is stupid. You are who you are and where you are and that’s perfect.
* A lot of the time our creativity comes from a place of pain. It could be time for you to play your sad playlist, turn the lights off and really cry. If you’re anything like me you have trouble dealing with your problems and you use your art form to vent. Maybe it’s time to let the floodgates open and just release. Release is cathartic. Release could help you enter 2021 in a much better headspace. You’re already creating for you, don’t be afraid to bare your soul.
* Try to be more present. Personally, I like to journal. Journaling doesn’t always have to be long paragraphs about feelings. It can even be simple observations. Observe the world. Be mindful about yourself, maybe you need to speak less and listen more, maybe you need to pick your head up and stop looking at your phone, maybe you need to take those earbuds out or go for a walk. Write it down. Take a photo. Draw it. Observe it. The world is still beautiful in its own little ways. Have you ever really thought about how amazing it is that your city has buildings covered in art or how refreshing water is at 3am or just how beautiful things are from carpets and art to ringlets of people’s hair or even exposed brick. Observe.
Relax. Go easy on yourself. Creativity doesn’t run out. It’s not a limited source. It very much can depend on your headspace and the pressures you’re putting on yourself. Just remind yourself that at your core you are a writer or painter or photographer. You can be without creating. You have control over your own actions. Sometimes the best choice is to take a step back and relax and recharge or it’s to go ahead and try something crazy and new. Sometimes you have to stop working on that project that you’ve been struggling with. Give yourself space to breathe, space to recharge.
And most importantly,
Do it for You.
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By the Open Fire - Yahya x Black Character
I’m getting back into the writing spirit and decided to write a little Christmas one-shot about my latest celebrity crush. Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa and Happy Holidays!
Warnings: Very, very, light smut, fluffy as hell
Word Count: 2,664
Six months was entirely too long to be away from the love of her life.
Candace tapped the tip of her pen against the blank page, hoping her writer’s block would magically disappear. Being an actress was so much easier than trying to write a novel. Why didn’t Candace just stick to her day job? Since the pandemic began, she was trying her hand at other talents and writing a novel seemed to be the one wish on her wish list that stood out. On top of Yahya being out of the country filming for most of the year, Candace was in search of a way to fight a depression that was on the brink of flooding her life. Her filming project had come to a halt until 2021 and she was stuck in her Manhattan apartment until it was safe to come out again.
Yahya would be home in a couple of days and Candace was looking forward to his arrival. So many months a part made her heart ache and the heart below her waist. After hundreds of facetime calls, numerous texts a day and a few Zoom sessions that included their shared friends, her man would be there in the flesh.
“Fuck,” Candace cursed under her breath. The block wasn’t budging, forcing the actress to give up and retreat to the kitchen for wine. Her phone rang, interrupting her attempt to brainstorm for the next chapter in her book. “You always call at the perfect time,” she groaned at her twin sister on the other end of the line.
“Candy, you can never just say hello like a normal human,” Trinity laughed. “But did mama call you with the latest gossip?”
“No, but she’s been texting me all damn day. I’ve been busy so I haven’t checked them yet. Wassup,” she pressed, knowing the gossip was most likely church related. Their mother had been an usher at the same church since they were nine.
“Girl,” Trinity exclaimed, before explaining the recent Chicago gossip. “Mrs. Jackson got caught cheating with James. Someone saw them out at the park together, kissing up on each other and all that.”
“Ewww, in this panoramic,” Candace gagged. “I’m not shocked though. That old floozy was always flirting with daddy and almost made mama beat her ass one Easter Sunday. Remember that?”
Trinity cackled, “Boooooy, mama was about to peel that woman’s skin back and break her neck. Ol’ girl was trying it that day and knows she is too old to still be acting like that. But enough about Florence, what have you been up to today? Ain’t your man on his way back to New York?”
Candace rolled her eyes because she knew where this conversation was going. Her sister had four children, leaving Candace the only childless sibling left in the pack of five children.
“He’ll be back in two days and then we’re going to Colorado for Christmas. Since we can’t gather for the holidays, figured we’d go somewhere where we can safely distance ourselves but still get away. You know,” Candace said, swirling the wine around in her glass before taking a sip.
“Mmmhhhhmmm. You gon’ get knocked up in them mountains,” Trinity added in a serious tone. “You two renting out a cabin or something up there?”
“Ain’t nobody getting knocked up until she has a ring on her finger. Yes, we’re getting a cabin and just chillin’ out. Yahya has been working and needs a break. I’ve been....lonely.” Candace paced her kitchen, trying to think of an excuse to end this call before her twin irritated her soul.
“Ya’ll haven’t seen each in months, he’s going to tear--”
“Trin!” One major difference between the two of them was the lack of filter on Trinity’s part. The woman would say anything in front of anyone. “Look, I need to go straighten up before before Yah gets here. I’ll talk to you later?”
Trinity sighed loudly on the other end because she knew her sister was rushing her off the call. Not liking people in her relationship business bugged Trinity because she was the nosey twin that wanted to know everything, much like their mother. “Well at least you won’t be needing to replace the batteries in that vibrator any time soon since the real Dr. Manhattan is back in the picture.” Before Candace could reply to the vulgar comment, Trinity squeezed out a quick ‘love you’ before hanging up.
“Nasty ass,” Candace rolled her eyes and placed the phone back in the pocket of her jeans.
The next two days were the same song. Candace’s brain did not want to focus on writing, so she eventually gave up and settled on online shopping to ease her frustration. The night her beautiful man was supposed to return, the actress fell asleep on the couch. His flight had been delayed by a couple of hours and he didn’t make it home until 3AM.
He quietly entered the apartment, knowing Candace could never stay awake past twelve. The 6′3 actor, tip toed across the floor doing his best ballerina impression. Light snores could be heard over the infomercial playing on the television. She looked peaceful, almost child-like curled up on the sofa under her favorite coral throw. Yahya slowly leaned in, placing a soft kiss on Candace’s pouted lips. She stirred slightly, mumbling under her breath and fell back into a slumber.
“Baby,” he sung into her ear, placing another kiss on her cheek.
“Hmm.” Candace finally opened her eyes to see her Christmas gift standing right in front of her. Even with blurred vision, the smell of his cologne was a dead giveaway. She screeched and scurried to her feet to throw her arms around Yahya’s neck. Naturally, her legs wrapped around his waist as he rocked them back and forth. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too,” he grunted, peppering Candace’s face in kisses. “My baaaaaaby,” Yahya sang as they fell to the sofa in a heap of long limbs. “It smells good in here, what you cook?”
“Negro, you’re always looking for the food. Ol’ hungry ass,” Candace shook her head and playfully punched her lover’s bicep. “But, I saved you some fried rice and shrimp...homemade because that’s the only dish I’m good at.”
“Oh, that’s not the only dish you’re good at,” he bit his lip, pulling Candace into a slow, passionate kiss, showing her how much he really missed her. With both of them being in the industry, they understood the heartache that came with being in a relationship and not seeing your significant other for weeks or months at a time. In this case, their time away from each other was extended due to the pandemic. “Mmmmm,” Yahya hummed into Candace’s lips before pulling away. He wanted to save the X-rated loving for their trip when he would have more time to rest and beat the severe jet lag from flying across the world for 12 hours.
“We should get some food in this belly, babe,” Candace couldn’t contain the big cheesy grin that made her cheeks hurt.
Toni Braxton’s sultry voice filled the cabin as Yahya finished pouring the wine for their night cap. They had a busy day on the slopes trying not to kill themselves or break any bones.
“Baby, where your fine ass at,” Yahya called out, making his way to the living room. The fireplace crackled, sending waves of heat throughout the cabin’s living area. The sun had set, but the mountains were still glowing against the dark sky. Their view was impeccable and the mood was set for a night of bonding and loving. “Candy, don’t make me come get you.” He warned playfully, sitting in front of the fire on their floor palette they had built earlier that night.
“What was that,” Candace teased, stopping in the doorway getting a front row view of Yahya’s bare upper half. His back muscles bulged as he tended to the fire.
“You back there sleeping, old lady,” he asked, with his back still turned away from her.
“No, I was back there wrapping one last gift,” she replied, her voice dropping an octave prompting Yahya to turn around.
His eyes almost fell out of his head, “Damn girl.” Pulling his bottom lip into his mouth, he moved forward, inspecting the gift that was screaming to be unwrapped. “This all for me?”
“Every inch of it.” Her words almost came out as a moan. The way this man was eyeing her had moisture pooling between her legs. The fancy lingerie wouldn’t last long at this rate. Words became an afterthought when actions began to do all the talking. All it took was a soul turning kiss to send them both to the floor on their palette in front of the fireplace. Candace couldn’t tell if the fire had her skin tingling or the anticipation of having his hands rubbing over the most sensitive parts of her body. The wine and fruits sitting on the mantle quickly became an afterthought.
For minutes, they enjoyed exploring each other and parts they hadn’t touched in months. Yahya was nestled between Candace’s thighs, both of them breathless and horny. Candace’s lace get up was quickly removed and thrown to the side. She giggled when his lips grazed her belly button, those giggles soon turning into pants and whispered obscenities. With gentle licks, he coaxed her clit out of its hood.
Toys were fun but they weren’t the real thing and oh did she miss the real thing. See, the real thing knew exactly how to pull her close to the edge before sending her back. Her man’s skilled tongue sank deeper drawing intricate patterns in her center as she massaged the top of his head with her fingertips.
Candace’s breath hitched in her throat and her thighs shook awaiting the impending release. “Jesus,” she moaned as her body suddenly felt light and her center thumped.
“Still as sweet as I remember,” he grinned, kissing Candace’s inner thigh.
Another track on their Toni Braxton Christmas playlist began to play and Yahya rested his head on Candace’s stomach. Time was precious and Yahya didn’t want to waste an ounce of the rare quiet moment they had. Soon, they’d both be filming again and the world would be back to normal.
“What’s on your mind, baby,” Candace asked, her heart and breath back to a steady rhythm.
“I don’t spend enough time with you. At least not lately,” he began. “I knew what I was getting into when we were back in school. Still makes me feel bad though.”
“Yah, I enjoy all the moments that we do get to spend together. You’ve been working your ass off this year. Yes, I would love more times like this but we should also celebrate all your accomplishments. Because you’re doing the damn thang and I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you. You always say the right shit to get me together,” he chuckled. “Sometimes a nigga just be in his feelings and I missed the hell out of you those six months.”
“Yeah, six months has never gone by that slowly. You should see my credit card statements. I’ve never purchased that many sex toys in my life,” Candace covered her face with her arm.
“Word? Well.... you won’t be needing those sex toys for awhile.”
A smirk formed on her lips when she felt him bump against her thigh, “No, no, you just sit back and relax. I got this.” Sitting up, Candace placed a hand on Yahya’s chest, prompting him to switch her spots.
“You are beautiful,” Yahya’s eyes gleamed. After all these years, he could still make Candace blush like a little school girl. “Don’t hide that smile, girl.” His large hands massaged her thighs as she eased him inside of her.
They both exhaled, letting Toni Braxton serenade them through the night.
They had finally made it to bed and got a few hours of sleep before Christmas morning arrived and it was time to get up for their next day of adventures.
First, they needed to re-fuel their bodies after the festivities that took place the night before in front of the fireplace and in the bedroom. The shower also got some of their loving that morning. Candace could hear Yahya singing his own version of Joy to the World while whipping up his famous oatmeal. That man never knew the words to any song but sung his own words with all the confidence in the world.
“Yah, do you ever know the words,” Candace questioned, placing a quick kiss on his cheek before grabbing a bowl from one of the kitchen shelves.
“Nope,” he replied in a matter of fact tone. “It’s the Abdul-Mateen version.”
“Uh huh, sure.”
Over breakfast, they continued joking about Yahya’s talent of making up his own versions of songs. Joy and love was on full display. They had always been the couple to roast each other and the next minute adore each other like the two biggest saps in the world.. Their relationship was built on a strong friendship they developed while they were in film school before reconnecting a few years later.
They walked a short distance to one of the coffee shops near their cabin to grab hot chocolate. It was a chilly 45 degrees, but to avoid sitting in the shop, they walked back to their rental, taking a scenic route that Yahya suggested.
“If we get lost or I end up falling off one of these mountains, I hope my family doesn’t kill you,” Candace joked, admiring the beautiful scene before them.
“Oh, I know where we are. I was out here early yesterday morning trying to find the perfect spot,” Yahya replied.
“Huh, perfect spot for what?”
He didn’t answer right away and instead reached for Candace’s hand, stopping her in her tracks. “Something I’ve been wanting to do for awhile.” Placing his cup on one of the rocks, Yahya pulled a box from his pocket and got down on one knee.
“What...what...” For once, Candace was speechless and caught completely off guard.
“It’s hard as hell to surprise you and I’ve been trying to think of the perfect time to do this without your nosey ass finding out.” Tears began to flow down Candace’s cheeks. “We’ve been at this for a few years and I’ve had some of my best moments with you by my side. I want to make what we have forever.” He opened the small box to reveal a beautiful emerald cut ring. “Say love... would you marry me?”
Being the goofball that she was, Candace laughed between her tears “You’re trying to get me pregnant on this trip, aren’t you?”
“Well that can be arranged if you say yes.”
“Ye...yes, of course!” Her vision blurred as Yahya slid the rock on her finger and stood to his feet to kiss his future bride. Moments later Yahya’s phone rang with an incoming Facetime call.
“Hey Trinity, hey moms,” Yahya cheesed, turning his phone to share the screen with Candace. “Looks like you two aren’t getting rid of me anytime soon.”
“She said yes,” Trinity screamed, jumping up and down with their mother. “Aye, aye, ayyyeeeeee.”
Still in complete shock and happiness overflowing, Candace shrieked, “Wait, you two knew about this the entire time!”
“Yep! It’s been burning my ass to keep this secret from you all this time,” Trinity teased, sticking out her tongue. “He took mom with him to ring shop last year and everything.”
“Welcome to the family, son. Congratulations baby,” Ms. Fredrick sang, clapping for the happy couple on the other end of the call.
“Now, I hope you two are using protection out there because having a baby before the wedding is-”
“Trinity,” Candace called out, shaking her head.
They should have followed Trinity’s advice because approximately two months later.....
Hope you all enjoyed! This is the first piece I’ve written in a year. I have no idea if I’ m going to continue the stories I began before my hiatus, yet. But, we will explore that in the coming year! Who knows, we may get more Candace and Yahya depending on how hard writer’s block slaps me. May the new year bring you all peace and joy!
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I have self diagnosed adhd and i was wondering if you could provide some advice regarding reading. I used to be able to just pick up a book and read when i was younger, but now that I'm older it's a bit difficult to just pick up a book and read for the sake of reading. I love reading, but i just can't seem to motivate myself to.
Any advice? I'd really love to get back into reading, but I'm trying to find a way to do it easier
Hello! I’m sorry this took me so long to answer, I’ve been mostly off Tumblr for a little while. I saw this some time ago at 3AM and thought “this deserves a more coherent response than I can give right now” and then forgot that this blog existed for several days.
That said, I absolutely have some advice for reading! I was a big reader as a kid, too, and I’ve recently had to re-discover reading after a long gap in any time spent sitting down with an honest-to-goodness book. There are a number of things you might consider!
First and foremost, recognize the reason it is difficult to read! For me, it is because reading isn’t the most interesting thing available. That doesn’t mean I don’t love reading! If I can manage to sit down and read a book, it is immensely satisfying - but it’s the satisfaction of the effort you put into something paying off. My favorite hobbies - drawing, writing, reading - are my favorite because of that sense of accomplishment that they give me.
I love the feeling of holding a book and watching my bookmark move through the pages each time I set it down. However, it doesn’t give me the same instant gratification of reading wikipedia, or tvtropes, or scrolling Tumblr, or checking notifications on social media; even when I am unsatisfied, or even frustrated, with the internet, it can be very hard to put down. I know that people will tell you all the time “You need to put your phone down more!!” It gets old. But they have a point. What people don’t tell you is how to do that.
For me, that tends to be about making it inconvenient for myself to get online, or do whatever is distracting me. This doesn’t necessarily mean making it completely unavailable. The distraction just needs to be less available than the task I want to do. I am the kind of person who gets online out of muscle memory, and then gets stuck there. Thus, many of my tricks rely on disrupting the muscle memory that lets you pick up distractions. I will put my laptop charger in another room, so that my screen time is limited to its battery life. I might tie a string around my laptop, or tape it closed, so when I go to open it I will be reminded “Oh yeah, I don’t want to do this right now.” I will occasionally rearrange the apps on my phone, so when I try to open Instagram and end up with the weather app instead, the thought of “wait, how did i get here” will snap me out of the thoughtless habits that led me to pick up my phone in the first place. I’ve even gone so far as to tape my phone to the ceiling. Whatever works.
If the weather permits, I might also walk a little ways down the block and find somewhere to sit and read. This can come with its own distractions, but it gets me away from my laptop, and I get a tiny bit more exercise and sunshine than I would have otherwise! This depends, of course, on whether you have transportation and whether you feel safe. But getting yourself out of the house can be a great way to get away from the things that would otherwise draw you away from reading. If you have a local cafe or library that permits you to sit and stay, those are also great options! I will bring my phone when I leave the house, but I might put it at the bottom of my bag, or put a bit of scotch tape over the power button, so that I have my phone in case of emergency but it’s just slightly inconvenient to get to without thinking about it.
It may not be the internet distracting you. But whatever the distraction is, it doesn’t need to be less compelling than reading. It just needs to be less readily available than your book is!
Another thing that prevents me from reading is that it often doesn’t have the same sense of urgency that other tasks might, whether that urgency is real or not. Give yourself a time limit! I may own books I haven’t read yet, but I will get to a book sooner if I have borrowed it from the library, because I know there is a deadline to return it!
You can also get other people involved. If you have a friend who wants to read the same book, commit to a chapter or two a week and then call to discuss it.
Or, if you have a friend who would be interested, and you are comfortable with your reading voice, you could read to someone! It might feel weird to offer, but you’d be surprised how many people really do enjoy being read to. If you both have time in your schedules, you could try to set up a regular call to get through a few chapters at a time.
Generally, having a friend who likes the book is great for maintaining enthusiasm, even if they’re not reading it with you - I get to books faster if someone with similar taste says “This is one of my favorites! You would love it!” If you have a friend who has read the book you plan on reading, announce to them that you intend on reading it. Their enthusiasm might help you feel more compelled to read it, and there’s a good chance that if you don’t sit down and read it, they will remind you by asking “Have you read it yet? What do you think?” the next time you talk to them.
Another great way to make reading easier is to set up a reading space beforehand. It’s one thing to pick up a book and say “I’ve been meaning to read this.” It’s another thing to put on some pajama pants, make a cup of tea, and curl a soft blanket around your shoulders before you settle down to read. For one thing, it’s just nice. But more importantly, it can function as a signal that tells your brain “it is Reading Time now. We are in the Reading Zone.”
Do you ever watch a TV show or listen to a podcast, and you let the theme song play on the first episode, and then skip it for the rest? Even if I’ve watched a show before, I will play the theme song on the first episode I watch that day. It’s the same principle - it serves as a transition, an intro that says “this is where I am now, and this is what I’m doing.” Give yourself an intro for reading! Have a certain spot that you like to sit when you read. Have a certain snack you eat beforehand.
I have all kinds of tasks with little “rituals” before them that help me focus on that task, or certain items that I interact with which I associate with it. I call them “declarations of intent,” and once I’ve made a declaration it’s easier to commit to it. Sometimes that means simply saying out loud, “I am going to do the laundry now.” Sometimes it means I wear a certain shirt if I’m planning to go for a walk that day, or drink from a certain mug at breakfast if I want to get some homework done. I have a specific hat that I put on when I want to write a certain character. Try to find something you can do to act as a cue that says “When I do this, then I will read a book.” Because of this, it can help to really lean into whatever the “aesthetic” of reading is, in your mind. Embrace a reading atmosphere!
It may also help to recognize that reading is something you can work your way up to! There is no shame in being out of practice with a hobby. I took my reading proficiency for granted for a long time because it was just a part of my life. It may help to think of reading as a skill! Start with something smaller and work your way up. Pick up a book of short stories or folktales before you tackle that six-book series you’ve heard good things about! Set achievable goals for yourself when you’re setting out. An early success can make a huge difference to morale, and it’s much better to start “too easy” and accomplish something than to jump in at the deep end and be frustrated by an early setback.
On the topic of working your way up to things, I would like to say a word about mindset. It is easy to feel self-critical about things. Things that you think should come more easily to you. Things that you feel like you have no reason not to be able to do. One of the biggest things I’ve done for my ADHD is recognizing that there is always a reason why I behave a certain way. Accepting that allows me to actually address my struggles, rather than just feeling ashamed of them. I’ve had to accept that I won’t always do things that I set out to do the way I set out to do them.
I bring this up because not all of my advice here may work for you. In fact, some of it doesn’t work for me every time - a technique may work once, but I might fail to make a regular habit of it. I may make a regular habit of something, only to have it become less effective as the novelty of it, or my enthusiasm for it, wears off. I may eventually talk myself out of implementing an effective strategy because there is some part of it that I find unpleasant; or an intentional unpleasantness I once found motivating may eventually become intolerable.
That’s okay. I’m telling you now, it’s okay if that happens. It’s okay if the first method you try doesn’t work. Don’t set yourself up to feel frustrated. If you become frustrated, take a step back. If you borrow a library book and you still haven’t read it by the due date, just give it back. If you don’t actually enjoy the first book you pick up, put it down and try a different one. If you feel badly about not reading something your friend wants you to read, be honest and tell them you have a hard time sitting down, and that you don’t want to disappoint them if they keep asking, but that you will let them know once you have started it!
It can be easy to convince myself that feeling badly about something means it’s important to me, and that maybe if I feel bad about not doing something, it motivate me to do it. There is a balance between making commitments, and not committing to anything that is just going to distress me. Sometimes there is a benefit to a sense of pressure, but I have to recognize when the pressure I create turns into frustration. That’s a fine line to walk! For all I speak of inconveniencing yourself, or holding yourself accountable, your strategies should ultimately feel satisfying, and show results fairly quickly! You may not see immediate results, but if it has been several days and your strategy isn’t working out, change tactics! And the moment you feel apologetic or ashamed about the thing you are trying to do, drop that strategy. Again, this can be easier said than done, but it is so worthwhile to learn how to allow yourself to “give up” on things that aren’t actually helping you, without feeling like you’re giving up entirely.
You want to get back into reading again because you want to enjoy reading again. If you set it up to feel like homework, or a chore, or an obligation, you may make it more difficult for yourself! Getting back into reading is about focusing on what you love about reading.
And hey, I’m always happy to help! I do only check Tumblr every couple weeks right now, but I’ll do what I can to be supportive. If you’ve tried these suggestions and they don’t work out, no worries! Everyone is different, and it’s no insult to me if things that work for me don’t work for you. But feel free to reach out again, let me know anything you have learned about how you function best in the meantime, and we can reevaluate your strategies!
I hope that helps! Happy reading!
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Late Night Drawing
Hawks x Raine
More NSFW self-indulgent writing, this time inspired by the fact that I totally don’t stay up really late and… other things….
Angel Wings, if you see this, no you didn’t and I definitely didn’t draw something NSFW -- Your Dove
Repost from my main blog. Originally posted on Dec 7, 2020
Contains: Descriptions of sexual activity, light dirty talk
~ Masterlist ~
"Dove, go to sleep," Keigo drawled out sleepily as he stumbled into Raine's art studio, large red wings hitting the frame of the door clumsily. "It's nearly 3am."
Raine pouted at her Angel Wings as she turned to look at him. "I'm not sleepy yet!"
Keigo's eyes turned to the young woman's dual monitor setup. On one screen was Tumblr, on the other screen was... something that definitely woke Keigo and something else up.
"I- is that us, dove?" Keigo asked coyly, approaching the young woman.
An odd strangled noise escaped Raine's throat as she hurried to save the progress of her... work. "N-no!" She stuttered, a blush rising up her cheeks.
Keigo let out a low chuckle as he used his feathers to move Raine's keyboard and mouse out of her reach. "No need to be embarrassed, dove! We've had sex lots of times by now. In fact, seeing you draw NSFW of us is quite flattering," he said huskily as he went to stand closely behind the flushed woman to get a better look at what she drew.
"Do you like that position, dove?" Keigo asked lowly, hands caressing the young woman's sides.
Raine sucked in a breath at her Angel Wing's feathery touch under the shirt she was wearing. "I-it's not my number one f-favorite, but it's u-up there," she stuttered.
Keigo chuckled, relishing in the way the young woman would jolt in pleasure should his hands wander over certain areas of her body. "Oh? And what do you like about it?"
Raine looked up at her debaucherous drawing. In it, she was sitting on Keigo's lap facing him, clinging onto him as he stuffed her full with his cock. "I-I like the closeness of me holding on to you..."
"Well, you certainly do like to cling to me, dove. Not that I mind it in any way."
A distant ping from Tumblr interrupted the two. When Keigo turned to look over at the other monitor to see the DM bubble. "Tell baby mama that I'm taking you to bed now."
Raine turned to Keigo with a pout. "I thought I told you to be nice!"
Keigo shrugged, nuzzling his face into Raine's hair, thumb making circles on her hips. "I said I would try, dove. And she's not here to hear me call her that."
The young woman rolled her eyes as Keigo had his feather gently place her keyboard and mouse back down onto her desk. Raine quickly sent in her goodnights to Meg, saved her work, and switched off her computers. Satisfied that she had done everything, the young woman turned to look at her Angel Wings, arms out in expectation.
Keigo chuckled. "You're so clingy," he teased, effortlessly picking up the woman, her legs wrapping around his waist and arms wrapping around his neck.
Raine buried her face into Keigo's shoulder. "I thought you said that you didn't mind it..."
"I don't, dove. I like it when you're clingy," Keigo answered simply as he made their way to their bedroom and sat on their bed. "You're not tired yet, right?" Raine nodded her head. Keigo smiled toothily, eyes darkening to dark pools of amber. "Why don't I tire you out then, dove? You wanna try out that position you drew? Oh, wait. We're already in that position," the pro-hero said as he rolled his hips into hers, his cock slowly hardening as he felt the heat from Raine's pussy.
Kissing the young woman gently on the forehead, Keigo made quick work of his sweats and boxer briefs, his hard cock springing free from its confinements. His fingers then thumbed at the panties Raine was wearing. "God, I love that you don't wear much to bed," he groaned, fingers moving down to play with Raine's entrance through the damp cotton panties, "and you're already so wet."
Raine let out a muffled whine into Keigo's shoulder. "Stop teasing me..." She whimpered.
"I thought you liked it when I tease you?" Keigo asked as he tapped lightly against Raine's sensitive clit, causing her to shudder and buck against him needily.
"I-I do, but..."
"But what, dove? You gotta tell me what you want."
"I want your cock inside of me..."
Keigo chuckled deeply, enjoying the way Raine whimpered shyly. "I'll give you more than just my cock, dove. I'll give you all my cum too. You like that, yeah?"
"Y-yes. I want your cock, your cum... I want you, so much," Raine cried needily into her Angel Wings's ear.
"Heh, since you asked so nicely..."
Without further delay, Keigo gently lifted Raine up to move her panties to the side, and with practiced ease, stuffed the young woman's pussy full of his cock.
The two moaned out at the feeling of being connected. Though it was a common occurrence for the two, the feeling never failed to bring them pleasure.
"How you feeling, dove?" Keigo asked, grasping tightly onto Raine's hips.
"G-good. You make me feel good," Raine replied breathlessly, clinging onto her Angel Wings.
"Good. I'm gonna start thrusting now, okay?"
Knowing how fast and rough his dove liked it, Keigo made no hesitation to rut into the young woman, his animal instincts nearly taking over.
Each thrust that Keigo made was accented by his filthy mouth, telling Raine exactly what she wanted.
How he was gonna stuff her pussy so full.
How he was gonna tire her out just from his cock.
How she was gonna be so sore in the morning.
How his cock will never leave her pussy.
With a hazy mind, Raine vowed to make more drawings of the two of them if it meant she would be treated like this every time her Angel Wings saw them.
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i absolutely live for ur work, keep it up! i was wondering if i could get a sdc harem, i dont mind if it’s reversed or not, do whatever ur comfortable with! ^^
First of all
Thank you for saying that ☺️!!
Stardust Crusaders reverse harem
Did you order quiet angsty boy who occasionally shows his emotions to you? Well you got it.
His approach to you is more of the "if I just keep staring at them from a distance then maybe they'll read my mind and see that I like them alot."
This obviously doesn't work..well not in the intended way. Yes it gets your attention but it's more out of concern because he hasn't moved or blinked for five minutes. He'll take what he can get, bottled up emotions tend to just burst out without his consent around you and jealousy rears its ugly head when the others spend time with you. His mysterious aura just really draws you in though, so he likes to keep you on a leash, giving you a taste of what you want to know yet still ensuring you come back for more.
Jotaro likes to catch you alone and enjoy a moment of silence with you with scattered conversation here and there. Most people just kinda annoy him so he's not used to spending time with someone just because he feels like it and it shows.
Least favorite rival: Avdol.
Jotaro feels like whatever he's trying to do, Avdol is doing it significantly better.
Whether that's just having a conversation, or eliciting a response out of you, he makes it look so natural.
(This man married..)
Regardless of his age, he is still a goofball and loves to make you laugh. Such a playful nature really does lighten your mood given how grueling the journey has been on you all so it's nice to have a break.
Joseph is acutely aware of the and uses it to keep the others away from you. He likes to play a more responsible role and kinda dotes on you a bit, but chalks it up as just being worried.
He likes keeping your attention on him at all times and he's pretty sly about it too. He just always seems to have a problem that only you can help him with because he trusts you and you trust him too don't you? Of course you do, you're so cute.
Least favorite rival: Polnareff.
Let's be honest, they're both playful and light-hearted so it can sorta become a competition between the two over who can make you laugh or smile.
He can be so knowledgeable and kind so you obviously have many questions for him and he revels in that, always offering you little factoids here and there about anything but showing particular interest in some of your favorite things.
Seriously though, he loves to get you talking, because the more you're talking to him, the less you're waisting time with anyone else and he gets to learn more about you. God help him if any of your hobbies happen to overlap cause he's over the moon about it. Asking you how you got into it and to demonstrate or tell him about your expertise.
As much as he doesn't like being underestimated, he really does swoon when you fret over him after his injury landed him in the hospital and he uses this to stay close to you whenever you go because surely you wouldn't want him to get hurt again right? You'll keep your eyes on him and protect him won't you? Of course you will, you're so kind.
Least favorite rival: Jotaro
They might be friends but that only makes it worse really. It's so obvious to both of them that they're vying for your affection and they definitely get in each other's way without hesitation.
The peacemaker, truly the only sane one of the group. He really is a beacon of stability and solidarity so you go to him in your time of need, he's very wise and quite spiritual so you leave with this feeling of newfound perspective and often seek him out to talk.
The conversation never gets boring given how many topics he's versed on and he often asks you philosophical questions to hear your thoughts.
However, with this in mind Avdol is very aware of human nature and can practically feel the envious eyes on him and in a surprising move tells you about it. Of course he says it in a joking manner as to not alarm you but he's fully understanding that it is no joke.
Least favorite rival: Kakyoin.
With such similar methods of getting your attention, its kinda like joseph and Polnareff, only difference here is that when these two compete it's more of a who can fascinate you the fastest by telling you about the topic you brought up.
Always attempting to whisk you away, pol very much is the most brazen with his advances. He flirts with you constantly and unabashedly, always flattering you whenever he gets the chance.
It can be a tad overwhelming but he counters this with his joking demeanor. He wants to make you laugh, he wants to see you smiling around him. He's basically lost all the family he has at this point so when he tells you you're his everything he means that shit.
Pol is kinda like that talking at 3am saying our random thoughts type of conversationalist so expect him to say some weird stuff sometimes but he's like dead serious about it even if he's laughing.
Least favorite rival: Joseph.
He doesn't want any competition, there's too many of them after you as is and now he has to deal with joseph trying to make you laugh when that's his job already.
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Izuku had broken up with Katsuki on a boring, unspectacular Wednesday.
Afterward, it only took three hours for his name to trend all over the internet and be called a clout chaser, gold digger, and even a harlot by millions of random people he’d never before because he'd broken the heart of their precious Crown Prince.
He couldn't even step a foot outside of his home without being bombarded with paparazzi accusing him of using the prince to social climb before ruthlessly dumping him.
"What did I tell you about dating His Royal Asshole?" Ochako says as Izuku groans, having hide out in her apartment for three days now because the media corps decided to stake out his apartment for him.
"To not to do it," he admits with a wince, "even on pain of death and that I should stay away from that hot mess."
"Atta boy," she says with a nod, but she doesn't let him rest on his laurels for long, "but you didn't listen and chose to jumped right in and be fucked over."
"It was his hot bod," Izuku murmurs, staring down at their tray of takeout daifuku from his favorite dessert shop; the one that he used to visit often with Katsuki but can't anymore because the kind elderly owner who'd always handed him extra daifuku with his purchased had given him the stink eye and a lecture when he came to pick up his order yesterday.
Ochako snorts. "If only that was the case, then you would have dated Kirishima instead like I'd wisely suggested. At least he wasn’t a prince."
He sulks. "Kacchan took my favorite shoe hostage! He wouldn't give it back unless I go on a date with him."
"Because you threw your shoe at him!" she retorts.
Izuku groans again, because this story had been rehashed so many times already. "It was an accident! And he only asked me out so he can mock me endlessly about it."
"And you found that Royal Ass charming enough to go on another date and another and another.” She huffs. “Now, look where you’d ended up."
Izuku stares down at his pajamas that he hadn't bother to change out since this morning. It has been several days now and he’d barely left Ochako's apartment for anything but the lure of food. What a sad and deplorable existence his life became, and all because he'd fallen in love with the Crown Prince of Japan.
"It been two weeks already," he whines, resisting the urge to shove another piece of daifuku in his mouth. It would have been his thirteen one on this awful evening. "Why won't they just leave me alone? I'm not that interesting enough to keep making headlines after headlines. Every. Single. Day."
Ochako just gives him a long, pointed look. "You broke up with him on live TV and in front of hundreds important guests s at his mother's birthday, who by the way is the much loved Empress. For someone who is afraid of drawing attention to himself you sure know how to wreck complete havoc."
Izuku drops his face into his hands and mutters words into it, muffling his respond. The memory of Katsuki's distraught and confused face that night, just right before Izuku had run out on him, still haunts him.
A hand ruffles his hair fondly. "Hey, hey, can't hear you."
He groans and raises his head in despair. "I wasn't in my right mind."
"I would hope so," Ochako says dryly. "This may even top that time when you broke into Eito Med Lab at sixteen, freed all their test animals, and got thrown in jail for three days."
Izuku grimaces. "That bad?"
She lets out a whistle. "Way worst." She pats him on the shoulder. "If you wanted to cut him off you could have break it to him gently. In private, preferably, and where his parents, various government dignitaries, and the entire nation weren't breathing down your back the whole time."
Tucking his knees against his chest, he chews on his lower lip and quietly confesses, "I found the ring Kacchan was hiding."
Ochako's eyes nearly bulge out of their socket. "He was going to ask you to married him?!"
Izuku hesitates, then frantically, he says, "I panicked!" he protests. "It was just before we’d left for the party and I saw the ring box hidden in his drawers.” He recalls that moment when he’d first found it and how it felt like his entire world had shift on its axis. “All thoughts went out of my head after that." He drags his hands down his face. "What was I supposed to do?!"
"Not break up with him on live TV!" she snaps, pinching the bridge of her nose. Ochako lets out a long-suffering sigh like Izuku's existence is tiring her. That's probably true, because being around Izuku is tiring. "So did you not want to marry him, is that it?" she probes.
Izuku looks away, his insides all twisted up thinking about it. "It doesn't matter what I want."
"Of course it does!" she insists loudly, drawing his attention back to her. "If you don't want marry him then that's fine, but," she frowns at him, "if you do want to then you got to stop sabotaging yourself!"
"I just don't think we're a good match for each other," he reveals his deepest and greatest fear that he had been nursing since he knew what it’d meant to be with Bakugou Katsuki.
All the anxiety he'd locked away in a chest is now broke open, spilling out of the cracks. He's terrified. Wretchedly afraid like the first time he'd found out every tabloid press had plastered his face and name everywhere just because he was caught hanging out with Kacchan. They weren't even dating at that time.
Her brows furrow. "Why do you date him then? I thought you love," she pauses and shakes her head before continuing, "well, maybe it's loved now."
Izuku nearly jumps out of his seat to correct her. "No, I still do! That hasn't change!"
"Then?" she presses relentlessly.
Izuku swallows, hands clasping together in a tangle of tight knot in front of him. "I'm not a good fit for him. There’s a thick juvenile record with my name written all over it, I’m chronically anxious and fighting off depression on a good day. My perfect night is cuddling in bed and tuning into a nature documentary, while Kacchan is out pretty much every night shaking hands with the movers and shakers of the world. Everything little things he do make the news, even that one time he decided to wear a blue sweater and for the next three days that’s all the top news agency talk about the latest Prince Katsuki’s fashion trend. You can’t even be mad at him at all for it because he’s fiercly smart, charming when he wants to be, and more driven than anyone I know. And he lives is an actual palace where he get attended by servants everyday! Like, for him his normal day is some strange drugged up fantasy! Can’t you see how he's—"
"Also an asshole," Ochako interjects with an eye roll.
Izuku cries out in protest, but she raises her had up to stop him. "Look, Bakugou is smart as you said. Brilliant even," she easily admits. "He’d made a lot of great political moves and done plenty to bolster the economy. He gets shit done and gets it done right, but he's not a people person." She sighs. "He looks at this country and sees it as a machine that he can fix and tinker with, but not as individual smaller pieces that make up the larger picture; he doesn't see us because he's Bakugou Katsuki, a prince who lives in a separate world than us so he doesn’t understand what it like to live on paycheck by paycheck, to worry about where your next meal may come from, and to live off government’s generosity. He's a great prince but you," she looks at him softly, "made him a good man and that’s more than anyone had ever done."
She pries his tangled hands from each other and tucks them in hers, squeezing it meaningfully. "It's because you feel so impassioned for this world and everyone who lives in it and not afraid to get hurt or let your voice be heard that Bakugou actually listened to you."
Izuku looks down at their held hand and feel tears fall down his cheeks. He doesn't deserve the friends he has now. They're amazing people, far better than him. "Ochako, thank you," he says, sniffing hard. "Thank you so much, but you have to understand Kacchan isn't just anyone." It feels tight and painful to admit it, but he wants her to know it’s not about him. It’s all for Katsuki. "He's the heir to the throne and he has so many responsibilities rested on his shoulders that sometimes I would wake up at night and still see him up at 3AM drafting a new speech or policy. It looks easy because he purposely makes it look that way. He just puts so much on himself and doesn’t want to ask for help because his dumb pride, but he cares more than he let on." He smiles thinking of how Katsuki loves, loves so fiercely that it’s drowning him. And Izuku is the anchor currently dragging him down right now.
"He's going to be the future emperor one day and the person standing next to him can’t just be anyone,” he says softly. “It can’t be little old me. I'm just so scare." He breaks at that admission. "So terrified that one day Kacchan will realize I was just one big mistake."
“Oh, Izuku,” she breathes. “You’re such an idiot.” She breaks their hold and grabs him, pulling him against her chest. "It'll be okay."
Izuku knows nothing will be okay again. He'd just broken his own heart and Katsuki's just to save their future. It's fixable now. Who ever said love is fairy tale is damn liar. Did no one wonder what happened after the prince married Cinderella and the magic ended?
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As an Internet veteran and draw-person, I really need to ask: what anime influenced you and many online artists circa 2000s? There's a specific style from those early 2000s webcomics and fanart I'm looking for and trying to replicate, and your old art fit in that "style", in my opinion. Thank you!
It’s hard to narrow it down, but it’s also not that hard to narrow it down. Anime was a much, much smaller industry back then. The “boom” was just beginning thanks to efforts by the Scifi Channel and Cartoon Network to bring anime to television in timeslots that people would actually watch.
So here’s your crash course in casual anime history, I guess, from someone who definitely isn’t like... obsessed with anime. Or isn’t anymore, but was back then.
For me, it all kind of started with, like... Dragon Ball, and this was a show that struggled to gain any traction at first. Where I lived, it aired at 5am on Sunday mornings. If you knew a kid that watched Dragon Ball, there was a solidarity there like, “Yup, you get it.”
Then DiC got the license to Sailor Moon and started airing it in the weekday morning slot I would typically describe as “right before you catch the bus.” You’d wake up around 6am, maybe 6:15, and watch whatever was on at 6:30 while you ate breakfast. As the credits were rolling, you’d head out to catch the school bus. Sailor Moon was what I remember doing that with the most. That combined with Dragon Ball formed my foundational interest in anime.
Around this time (1995, 1996) you were starting to see anime start to seep in to the mainstream elsewhere. There was a commercial I remember for, like, an anthology of anime classics like Akira...
And, y’know, when you’re like, 14 or 15 and you see a commercial like this -- cartoons! With blood! And nudity! It’s like, holy crap. Most of the classics we know today (Akira, Ghost in the Shell) were only really available via mail order like this back then.
More shows started getting localized for TV, too, like Ronin Warriors was one a lot of my friends got in to. It was considered “The Manly Sailor Moon.” And then there was, of course, Samurai Pizza Cats. Eventually Saban stopped dubbing Dragon Ball altogether and moved straight over to Dragon Ball Z, and that gained enough popularity that I think it eventually shook it out of its Sunday Morning time slot to somewhere a little more visible by general audiences.
Coming in to 1997 and 1998, anime was really starting to gain some momentum. The Scifi Channel had begin doing their “Saturday Anime” show, which aired at 3am every Friday Night/Saturday Morning. They probably figured it was one of the only ways they could get away with showing violent cartoons.
For me, this was where I got my first “real” taste of anime. They had a stable of about 5 or 10 movies and OVAs they’d run. Venus Wars, Vampire Hunter D, Project A-KO, Robot Carnival, Tenchi Muyo In Love (my favorite), Project L.I.L.Y. Cat, Beautiful Dreamer, Galaxy Express 999, Fatal Fury The Motion Picture, Record of Lodoss War, Dominion Tank Police, Roujin-Z, Demon City Shinjiku, Gall Force...
That felt like the bandaid got ripped off. Suddenly we were all buzzing about anime. Hey, have you heard about this movie called Ninja Scroll? There’s hardcore sex in it! No American movie, live action or not, could ever match the body horror of Akira! Hey, does anyone remember Robotech from the 80′s? That was actually anime, too! Wow!
Cartoon Network was smart enough to take notice and snatched up the rights to air Sailor Moon and Dragon Ball Z at reasonable, non-morning hours, and they dug out Voltron and put together a simple block of anime. I don’t even think it necessarily had a name, it was just an hour or maybe 90 minutes of anime a day, and it exploded. Right place, right time. So Cartoon Network expanded.
They added more classic anime, and some shows that were similar in tone, and called it Toonami. Robotech, Ronin Warriors, The Real Adventures of Johnny Quest, Reboot, Thundercats...
And this became the place to watch anime. Which is when we enter the era you’re asking about, the early 2000′s. This is where it starts to feel like a little too much to cover, because it came hot, heavy, and fast. There was a thirst for anime that was hard to quench because production companies were small and choosy about what they’d dub, but at the same time, a sort of gold rush was starting.
When I think of peak, classic-era Toonami, the stuff that really influenced me artistically, it was shows like Outlaw Star, Ruroni Kenshi, and Gundam Wing. I’m sure I’d also have friends speak highly of Big-O, G-Gundam, and Yu Yu Hakusho, three shows I never really got in to.
Eventually, Cartoon Network (and Williams Street, then called Ghost Planet Industries) began to realize that there was a growing library of anime they couldn’t show in the afternoon because it was too intense for the kids. There was also an undoubtedly vocal contingent of anime fans who were frustrated when their favorite shows had to be edited for broadcast. This gave birth to Toonami: The Midnight Run, the precursor to what would eventually become Adult Swim. The Midnight Run became home to uncut (or simply less-cut) episodes of afternoon shows that restored blood, alcoholic references, and the few cases of more extreme violence.
Midnight Run started getting exclusive shows, too. When I think about what Midnight Run (and later Adult Swim) was known for, it was shows like Cowboy Bebop, FLCL, and again, though it wasn’t really something I saw a ton of, Paranoia Agent.
Other networks did try to cash in on the anime craze. I think Tech TV/G4 tried to get in on things with Serial Experiments Lain and a few other shows, but to be honest, it never hit as hard as Toonami did. Then there was obviously the work of guys like 4KIDS, with the Pokemon, Yu-Gi-Oh and Digimon shows on Saturday Morning, but those felt noticeably different in vibe and in tone (something that only got more pronounced when Kids WB started a Saturday Morning Toonami block that was even more aggressively sanitized than what could be shown on Cartoon Network).
Beyond broadcast TV, the stuff I remember being popular among my circle of friends were things like Tenchi Universe, Ranma 1/2, Slayers, Saber Marionette, and.... like, Di Gi Charat and Chobits? This was probably right around the era of Azumanga Daioh, too.
Unfortunately, much past 2003 or 2004 is where I started falling off of anime. The feeling of it being “new” and “special” was starting to wear off, and there was enough coming out that the standard of quality was beginning to drop. Whereas small studios like ADV and Manga Corps. could only afford to bring out the best of the best, we were starting to get junk like Duel Masters, Rozen Maiden and Tenchi Muyo GXP.
I remember friends speaking highly of shows like Bleach (heh), .hack, Full Metal Panic, Midori Days, Tenjo Tenge, Yakitate Japan, Eureka Seven, and Air Gear, but I can’t tell you anything about them, personally.
Either way, I’m sure I’ve given you more than enough to chew on.
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Bunniiiieeeee, have you considered being a goose or a duck? Ohohoho jkjk~ could I request Azuma blushing hc? Ily so much 💜
it’s my Sworn Enemy and Mortal Rival ruri *goose honk intensifies* but because i love you, i will Answer: i have T_____T now back to fighting you ♡ i hope you love it~
summary: who knew you would meet an angel at a 7/11 when it was 3am?
warnings: impossible beauty standards, insecurity, late nights, overthinking, unrealistic expectations
author’s note: this is for my favorite azuma stan of all time! my great friend who is definitely just as head over heels for him like the mc in this headcanon ♡
i wanted to touch upon azuma’s ego. although he’s definitely not arrogant about his looks, i feel as if pretty people can develop some sort of imposter complex of whether they really are who people see them as. i wanted to recognize maybe an inner people pleaser within him and someone who actively sought validation because he lacked it before he was considered “pretty”. this is mainly a romanticized take on imposter syndrome and what it means to have fake love for temporary satisfaction
word count: 1,335
music: water fountain – alec benjamin
convenience store angel.
❄️🍶 yukishiro azuma
why did everyone want azuma to sit still and look pretty?
it was like he was some victorian doll people played around with before becoming bored, abandoning him for someone so much better. someone, prettier
so azuma grew up following the latest classy fashion trends, locking himself in his bathroom to spend hours taking care of his hair, cashing out thousands to preserve his youthful appearance to defy his age
no matter what time of day it was, he always came off as the best version of himself. pale like the snow, because no one liked it when his face was red. azuma learned how to maintain his porcelain complexion to be even prettier
azuma knew he was pretty; after all, if he wasn’t, all his hard work would be for nothing in the end. he had to be pretty, easy on the eyes, it’s what he was meant to do
compliments had no effect on him anymore, he’s heard it all before: how delicate his dainty fingers were, how smooth his luxurious voice was against their ear, how he was the best they’ve ever had. he knows they lie, and lie, and lie, just to steal a moment with veludo way’s resident ethereal god. they all wanted something underneath their corrupt surface
azuma never believed any of them, no point getting his hopes up about a one night stand. he was just arm candy, something to show off like he was an a prop mannequin
they were all the same: azuma would leave early in the morning and never reached out to contact them again. they did the same, no wonder, he wasn’t pretty enough to be worth their phone bill
azuma would be by himself in the dangerous streets after sneaking out, walking hurriedly from the dark alleyways. he knew no matter what time it was, wolves in sheep’s clothing wanted a bite of him
even though it was safer to stay within his one night stand’s four walls, he couldn’t risk feeling something in any affair. staying in the morning meant wanting more, more visits, more time together
he didn’t have time for anyone else but himself
it was the same process: leaving at midnight, meeting up for drinks, and disappearing into the night at 3. for years, that’s all azuma knew how to do
but then you came along like out of a dream, appearing into his life out of thin air one night
azuma had his face down as he quickly walked towards the dorms silently, his blazer too tight and v–neck too revealing for the hungry eyes staring at him
passing by the convenience store, the LED lights glowed as azuma stepped inside to avoid the heavy set man that was just trailing behind him again. thank god for rest stops, azuma refused to have someone taint his appearance
maybe he was doing something right with his looks if men couldn’t stop following him home, azuma thought, unaware of how he was basing his self worth on creepy attention
the store was lined with racks of cheap food that was sure to give him acne and oily skin. azuma grimanced at the idea of breaking out, or god forbid, having a wrinkle! he’d get the worst possible attention, the one that came with gossips and insults. no, he needed every stranger’s validation on his beauty. he was pretty, right?
turning into one of the aisles to make a call for a ride home, azuma stopped dead as he saw you bent over your cart that was surely not cleaned, debating over two food options that were not healthy in the slightest
shit. he didn’t look, presentable, right now. azuma’s hair was tied down to the best of its abilities, but he could feel the flyaways from his scalp. his casual suit had lint and creases. even his shoes were smudged despite polishing them last night
a first impression, and you were going to forever remember him as an unkempt, messy fool who wasn’t socially acceptable. azuma felt his heart skip a beat as he maintained a charming, easygoing aura, attempting to scoot past you without drawing attention for once
“hey, you! come here a second!” you ordered, not even looking up as you were staring at the colorful advertisements labelled on each plastic bag
azuma held in a sigh as he turned around slowly, forcing a pleasant smile as he hummed a questioning tone against his will. his clients never liked it when he disagreed or talked too much, so wide eyes and thin smiles were the way to go
“what’s the best snack—” you began, pushing your hood out of the way as you finally looked at azuma. azuma who believed he was too ugly and your silence was a confirmation of that
“whoa.” you dropped randomly, squeezing one of the bags so hard that it popped open loudly much to both your dismay
flinching, azuma reprimanded himself mentally for showing any sign of weakness before hearing your laugh amidst the quiet neon store. you sounded out of place over the consistent fan rotating in the background and rare car or two speeding outside
“my bad! sorry, you’re just...” you trailed off, putting both bags anyway into your cart to buy anyways as you stood up to his level
azuma was ready to hear it. how he wasn’t even good enough to be outside right now. how he should try harder to please society’s beauty standards. how there were so many better and—
“beautiful. yeah, that’s it.” you finished, nervously smiling as you suddenly found the stock of usa–imported snacks the most interesting in the store
you’d never tell him until much later on, but azuma appeared like an angel in the dinky, rundown gas station. looking up, you saw his silver periwinkle hair illuminated in the bright white lights like a halo. his white undershirt was bright against his smooth skin and his striking sharp yellow eyes felt like a godsend. azuma was so beautiful in that moment, he took your breath away. he was so gorgeous and heavenly, it was a surprise you didn’t drop to worship him
azuma paused, his mind blanking for the first time in his entire life. he always had something to say, something to add that made the other person want him even more. but you, you didn’t look like you wanted to devour him whole and take advantage of him. you just looked... in awe? like, he was really pretty.
azuma turned red
azuma was blushing uncontrollably, because it’s almost as if you meant it. did you really think he was beautiful? more than pretty, more than an artificial sense of self? even like this? he wasn’t even at his best, he was average. there was no reason he could have warranted such a dramatic reaction
typically, azuma would easily take the compliment and have a graceful act of appreciation as his consistent insecurity over his appearance thudded in his ears
but this time, he didn’t know what to say. there was nothing to say. did you actually think he was beautiful?
azuma subconsciously lifted his hand to his ear, which was burning hot to the touch. but he didn’t feel embarrassed, he wanted to feel like the summer more
less cold, less frigid like he was frozen in time like a snowman. maybe for once, azuma wanted to be as fluid and everchanging as the water. azuma wanted to be melted, and your sunny smile burned him
two people stood inside a 24/7 convenience store, staring at each other with hundreds of questions but comfort they hadn’t found in anyone else. the cars outside whizzed past in the distance, the street lights changed colors, the sun was about to rise on their relationship. things were changing. they were changing
azuma blushed as red as the string of fate looped around their pinkies. he would do so many, many more times and you were always there to make it happen
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do u have any headcanons for the terasaka squad :0? hope u feel better soon!!!❤💗❤💖💘💖💘💗💘💗❤💞❤💘💞💘💕💗💕💖💞💖💞
!!!!!!!! OF COURSE (i put a readmore bc it got kinda long bshfjsnsjs)
h e a t e d m a r i o k a r t b a t t l e s
i think ive talked abt this before, but i literally love the idea of hara teaching muramatsu how to knit nd stuff - and then they make sweaters + scarfs nd stuff for the gang :]
terasaka has a tendency to just ,, lift the others up + carry them (especially itona sfnsj) when they least expect it
they once all tried to fit on + ride on yoshida’s motorcycle (it didnt end well)
itona is the resident serial sweater thief - No One Is Safe
hazama + takebayashi send surreal memes to each other at 3am
muramatsu + yoshida are always the first ones to cry during sad movies
they all went go-karting once + never went again (it was Chaos, like most things they do lmao)
theyre pretty split when it comes to stuff like rollercoasters: yoshida loves them; terasaka, hara, hazama + itona (who is mainly interested in how they work) are pretty neutral; and then muramatsu + takebayashi are Terrified of them rip
They Are Banned From Almost Every Mall In Their Area
hazama is amazing at pumpkin carving lmao
whenever they have sleepovers they have to draw straws for who sleeps next to yoshida or terasaka bc theyre both very cuddly + can and will latch onto any nearby warmth bnfjsj
itona, hazama + takebayashi.....the Touchstarved Trio....the others make sure to give them Many hugs (+ just casual touches in general uwu)
yoshida managed to convince itona to start wearing wheelies + now he wont take them off
he also introduced itona to lego + now he’s Obsessed w it
takebayashi is strangely rly into consipiracy theories, he’ll ramble for hours abt them
terasaka tried to build ikea furniture once, couldnt do it, and then didnt talk to anyone for the rest of the day (+ then hara managed to build easily, w a smile on her face the entire time)
muramatsu is very talented at playing the kazoo, he can + will blast it at any given opportunity
hazama is the Best at games like hide + go seek
she’s also great at swatting flies lmao (it’s the Spider Instinct)
ok ok so at my school theres this widely played game where u shout “gRaB hIs DiCk AnD tWiSt iT” as loud as u can, and whoever shouts it the loudest w/o getting told off by a teacher wins. im saying this bc i can definitely see terasaka, muramatsu + yoshida playing it lmao-
they love hanging out at places that should be crowded but are empty (if that makes sense)
takebayashi likes tea a lot - hara manages to find out his favorite type + makes it for him whenever she notices him acting off (more stressed, reserved etc) :]
hazama can speak quite a bit of french (it’s for the Gothic Aesthetic)
takebayashi buys notebooks only to have no idea what to do w them
terasaka loves stargazing, it helps calm him down a lot :]
whenever they go shopping they make a point of intentionally mispronouncing everything
muramatsu is obsessed w puns, he finds them the funniest things + is confused as to why the others dont find them as funny as he does
he googles puns for every possible situation
they have a buzzfeed unsolved-like yt channel where they poke around haunted bulidings + go cryptid hunting (it almost Never ends well but they do it anyway)
hazama: hey demons. its me. ya boi
hara is literally the best hugger ever
yoshida is banned from choosing movies for movie night since he brought the cars trilogy + got itona obsessed w them 😔
takebayashi is scarily good at monopoly
+ thats all i can think of rn - i hope theyre ok!! :] ty for the ask!!
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3am peter maximoff/me discord headcanons
the people have spoken. i edited it a bit so no personal info is revealed. also sometimes a ‘you’ is addressed, that’s my friend but feel free to imagine that as you. have a fun peek at my brain when i am not putting in Effort. also i misspoke its 6000+ CHARACTERS not words. i passed out after the final headcanon
- first of all. this bitch is Insecure with a capital 'I'. all his life he was told that he was a freak because of his mutation and then he believed he was a loser because he lived in his moms basement for a while and he just. he needs someone to tell him that he is actually great and a Hero
- I can and WILL be that person
- I think this is canon but ya know they don't really discuss this stuff in a superhero movie but. Peter is a whole ass virgin.
- bisexual because no straight person dresses THAT well
- if peter was around these days he would be a retro punk type of person. I think he would like lemon demon but that might just be because i'm listening to lemon demon rn
- since both his parents were holocaust survivors he would be a huge advocate for human rights
- i'm not saying he would try to kill the president but that's exactly what I'm saying
- I think Peter would have a similar interest in children as I do. other people's kids are cool. Do I want kids? FUCK no
- if peter maximoff was a real person he would 1) be my bestie and 2) ABSOLUTELY have a weed old people music basement party with us
- he is super touch starved because most of his mother's affection was given towards his little sisters (his dad wasn't around because of the whole. 'not knowing he was his dad' thing)
- peter would cry the first time he got laid and thats all im saying about that
- he gives the BEST hugs because they are tight but not too tight
- he smells like leather
- not a headcanon but. I want to touch his hair
- Peter Maximoff just wants to be given affection and praise for everything he's accomplished. I would pull the sun out of the sky and hand it to him if he asked
.- this is going to sound like im Projecting but Peter would play bass
- he plays bass because it helps him slow down and focus without being a drag on his personality
- hates water
- thinking about Holding his Hand makes me cry
- bro this is a FICTIONAL character I am being weird but I do not care
- dude I just pictured getting to wear the silver jacket and im :sobs:
- anyways back to what I was saying
- peter could tell me that the only way he could ever be At Peace and Happy was if I grew wings and flew into the sun then I would do exactly that
- he dresses in traditionally masculine and feminine ways because he is epic
- he just knows the power he holds in a skirt
- I am crying
- low key hc him as nb
- by low-key I mean not at all lowkey
- he is oddly good at drawing faces but nothing else. He can only draw faces.
- YES this is so he can draw the faces on the bodies i draw
- this man would punch a neo nazi in less than a second. no hesitation. again, the parents thing
- he protects his little sisters but like not in the creepy "whatever you do to her, I do to you" way. just in a 'dude I am literally an xman if u hurt her ill obliterate you' way
- hc abt me. I buy him shoes a lot because he is constantly destroying his shoes because he moves at the speed of sound
- living with peter would rock because 1) the whole space is clean in 0.000000000000000000001 seconds and 2) cuddles and 3) he showers in 3 seconds so the water bill won't get too high when i take 30 minute showers
- he is canonically a kleptomaniac but you already KNOW he is raiding and vandalizing hobby lobby because those bitches homophobic
- I would force you to let him participate in 1 mcu cover (MCU is my mcr cover band called my chemical uterus where we replace half the words of mcr songs with penis)
- he is an xman which means he is athletic but begrudgingly so
- if he was real every Christmas i'd give him twinkies and he'd give me chocolate chips and I'd sob and cry for hours and hours
- this motherfucker would despise ahs because he doesn't like seeing people sad or in pain but he would still listen to me if I talked about it because he's cool like that
- dude no one would ever shatter their phone around him because he'd just catch it before it hits the ground
- I am trying not to make this sexual but. I mean c'mon. he can jerk it to the speed of light that's gotta count for something
- he can do FLAWLESS eyeliner because he practices on his sisters and i am Jealous thinking about it because i look like a raccoon when i do eyeliner
- peter would say acab rights
- he would simultaneously love and hate Jojo Rabbit. if he were real I wouldn't make him watch it very often but it is my favorite movie so he might see it once or twice.
- problem is. this bitch can't be driven ANYWHERE
- it's always "bro we could've been there and back by now. no dude you don't understand you can just ride on my back—"
- any meticulous or "slow" tasks would make him really anxious and fidgety. unfortunately that just makes him more anxious because he's afraid he's annoying the people around him.
- ^ is that canon? probably
- retro gaaang
- arcade gaaang
- he would probably try to beat my asteroids high score but he CANT because im the asteroids KING
- literally I beat the highest score ever done in that arcade I am So Cool
- not a fan of stickers. too much responsibility
- pet ferret
- lowkey insecure about his laugh & his smile because a bunch of adults in his life said his laugh was irritating
‐ fuck you YES im projecting
- blue painted nails because he has taste
- king of DDR
- [friend’s name] you’re not reading this but he would kick ur ass in taiko
- halloween would fuck SO HARD
- space nerd space nerd space nerd space nerd space ne
- bro if peter was real i think id never infodump on my parents again
- a 3 hour rant about ahs from me
- a 3 hour rant about the solar system from peter
- my parents are crying because my voice box would implode on itself
- cud ddddleel ee
- i want him to Hold Me Gently
- i want to wear the goggles
- pink floyd party
- nirvana party
- mcr party
- crying on the floor because I love him so much.
- Peter likes to have his picture taken but he doesn’t want to see the picture. He wants to live on past his death but he does NOT want to see his disastrous hair
- speaking of hair
- yes i would braid it
- very nice color I want to touch it
- butterfly clips……………….
- in conclusion: I love this bitch and I will protect this bitch until the day that I fly myself into the sun
- also i want to kiss him on the m*uth
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hi hi hi bby!! im here to request a bnha male match-up!! i use she/they pronouns, im a minor, enfp-t, pisces (i act like an aquarius tbh), my aesthetic is a mix between baddie, skater, chaotic good and dark academia. btw you can call me ash! i have black mid-length wavy hair, tan skin, dark brown eyes. im also 5'11 and i have a skinny, tall figure.
my personality is kinda hard for me to describe so im just gonna copy paste a description of myself from a previous matchup (hjdsd) ; i love pop music, going out with friends, all types of affection (especially hand holding and cheek kisses), reading, the arcade and taking random quizzes. i have this habit of imagining blue butterflies when i get angry and it actually helps me calm down. i do have a lot of moodswings but im pretty hyper most of the time. im the type of person who texts their friends at 3am just to annoy them. i am also tomboyish asf.
im both a night-owl and a morning-bird; i literally go to sleep at 3 or 4 am and wake up at 6.40am so i guess i'm pretty sleep deprived (and coffee obsessed). i look like i can be blown away by a gust of wind BUT i am in the swim and basketball teams at school and was in the chess team in 4th-6th grade (i guess im pretty smart uwu). i seem intimidating at first glance but im a real softie on the inside, i pretty much simp for everyone i know. im affectionate with all my friends but im shy to show affection to my family (except for my 5 year old sister).
i have a lot of phases. for eg; i was into aesthetic diaries and stuff about two months ago and only wrote in the diary for a week or so AND i had this phase where i drew cartoons of characters and that only lasted ONE DAY (but i did draw about 30 characters lol). my favorite movie genre is action/sci-fi, i also like thriller movies because they don't scare me much but if i dont get to finish watching a horror movie i get really paranoid because i dont know what happened to the characters in the end.
i dont even know if this is related, but i usually wear oversized t-shirts and shorts with or without a backwards cap. i also LOATHE dresses and skirts and if i HAD to wear one i'd wear it with sneakers. plus, i really hate make-up and i only use chapstick, and sometimes eyeliner when its absolutely necessary.
about my type, i honestly don't know, it doesn't matter who it is but i prefer someone who's kind of like me because the ✨ dynamic ✨ sdjcjc and also someone who can cheer me up when im down and be there for me. bonus points if this person is as chaotic, stupid and random as i am. my love languages are physical touch and quality time but it's mainly physical touch because im affectionate (mental and physical-wise.)
my current fav songs are ; ruin my life - zara larsson, gorgeous - taylor swift, under the weather - derivakat, sit still look pretty - daya and, domino - jessie j. anyways, tysm for this! hope you're staying safe!!! <333
Hey, Ash! Omg. Of course, I can do a ‘Match-Up’ for you. ❤️ You’re currently 9th in line for requests. Once, I get to yours I’ll send you a message letting you know.
Also, I LOVE your energy/vibe. I already know who to match you up with. I can’t wait to write your ‘Match-Up’. 😄
Hope you have a great rest of your week. ❤️
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Hey love ! How are you ? I looove so much your stars aesthetic, it gives me such good and quiet vibes 🥰
I was wondering if you had time for a matchup ? With a male character if possible.
My name is Sarah, I am a Leo. I’m confident (most of the time ahah), competitive, impatient, I love teasing people, but I’m also protective with my friends. I love writing, drawing, cooking, gaming with friends, chilling...
In a bf, I would like someone very funny, confident, open minded, protective and who loves quality time.
My favorite color is red and I love to wear « sporty clothes » and sometimes tight outfits. It depends on my mood.
You wanted song, right ? I can’t stop listening « levitating » from Dua Lipa and « make you mine » from Public. It gives me summer vibes. But my favorite love song is « Rewrite the stars » with Zendaya !
I hope it’s enough or not too long (sorry for my bad writing I’m French :/)
Thank you and keep going ! ;)
aaaa i love rewrite the stars! i didnt really figure out a way to incorporate that song, but its a really cool one
your matchup is with...
How It Started
I get vibes that you’d go to school sports games because you can and you're bored
So you and your friends go out to a game
And terushima was immediately in flirt mode
👀👀👀 when he saw you in the stands
He was super excited
Your friends wolf whistled and laughed when he was up to serve because he looked at you and winked
And then served really well
He actually mumbed to himself “please let this work” first tbh
But it did and he was so happy about it
After the game ur friends show you towards him
He was already walking towards you anyway
And asked if you wanted to go out one day sometime soon
To which, of course, you say yes because who wouldn’t want to go out w him
Because event if it doesn’t turn into anything more, at least it would be fun
Which it is trust me
Your first date is an amusement park and he spends so much time trying to win you a stuffed animal and then he carries one of those giant ones around the rest of the night
Doesn’t matter what kind of animal it is he wants to name it mr panda and is very stubborn about it
Can i just say this is
The most caring
Excitable man in the whole universe
Like really youre lucking out here he's so??? Yes
I love him
He’s unpredictable but that’s what makes everything so fun?
Yuuji has a LOT of energy and he’s always ready for the next big thing to do
And usually, that’s whatever you're interested in
As long as you promise to support him in all his passions, he’ll support yours, no matter what it is
If you're super into a new video game? He's making plans with you to hang out so you can play.
You're writing something new? He's asking if he can read it (if you're comfortable of course). He gives really good advice though
You say you're in the mood to make something? He’ll be there in 10 (wearing a kiss the cook apron)
He’s a flirt, but i definitely think he’s a HUGE hopeless romantic
Anything and everything from rom coms, he wants to do
Kiss him in the rain, dance in your pjs at 3am, go stargazing
I think dancing is really common
If you two just have a day where neither of you really have plans
He’ll dim the lights and turn on music
He offers his hand and bows
And you laugh a little because he’s such a dork
But you take his hand and he pulls you close and you start dancing around your room and its just an honestly sweet moment
You said you're french right? I dunno if this is just me but i think it's a really cool language
Anyway teru totally does too
Say anything in french to him and he’s wrapped around your finger so fast like geez man relax
He just thinks it sounds so cool and pretty and yes
Also this is just a personal headcanon of mine with any s/o he has, but he does a little *blep* thing a lot where you can see his tongue piercing because it's cute
Just sticks his tongue out at you but it's so cute because his nose scrunches up and hes
Yeah i love him you're very lucky with this one my dear
A Date With Terushima
Okay but consider
No one ever knows where this guy is gonna be next but hes probably bringing you with him
You never know where a date with him is gonna be
Seriously he’ll just text you at 10am one morning and just say “be ready in 10”
So you get dressed having no idea where you’ll end up during they
Turns out you're just going for a picnic but there have been other times you went to paintball, a concert, the local faire, whatever
Dates with him are unpredictable and you never know what you're going to end up
I hope you like a little chaos and can adapt well because that’s what you’re going to get from him
Aries is one of the most compatible signs with Leos--I know this im a Leo too woohoo. Both are fire signs, so they're passionate, creative, and competitive. Aries are cardinal signs and tend to be restless and a force to be reckoned with. Leos are fixed signs which are very self sufficient, stubborn, and are able to find their way through almost any situation. Overall, a pretty good balance. Just looking at these, you’d work well with Yuuji to balance him out well.
Closer - The Chainsmokers feat. Halsey
The Edge of Glory - Lady Gaga
Hysteria - Def Leppard
It’s My Life - Bon Jovi
Keep it Gold - Surfaces
Sugawara Koushi, Akinori Konoha
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Till Kingdom Come
Chapter One: My Story Is Much Too Sad to be Told
AN: I’m fairly shocked at the reception this story got, I didn’t expect to gain immediate attraction because I posted it at like 3am lol. Nonetheless, I am grateful to all the people who read this story. Once again, this chapter is dark as well. I promise this whole story is not going to be doom and gloom, but it feels inappropriate to even try to glaze over the cruel treatment of slaves in America and to be honest, this chapter is probably just a glimpse of what real life slaves were put through.
Word Count: 3.1k
Trigger Warnings: slavery, violence, physical/mental abuse, racism, racial slurs
Chapter Two: Life Being What It Is
That was seventeen years ago.
Sabine's life had changed for the "better", at least that's what Mistress Genevieve would try to convince her as such. Sabine certainly didn't see it that way, she was still a slave, after all. Not to mention, that the Martin family has for all intents and purposes, mentally and physically scarred her for the rest of her life.
Sabine was fucking miserable on the Martin Plantation.
From the moment Sabine arrived on the plantation as a child, she became something of a pet project to Genevieve. She taught Sabine arithmancy, how to read, write, and to speak proper English and French. This was not out of kindness though, no, this was a source of derision. Whenever Genevieve would host any type of social gathering, Sabine would find herself being paraded around by her Mistress to her guests.
She despised the gatherings with every fiber of her being, she was subjected to the most degrading comments by the party goers.
"Dear me, I didn't know negros had the capacity to learn how to read,"
"Genevieve, you must have the patience of a saint to be willing to teach a member of an illiterate species,"
"You taught the monkey to read and write? What's next Genevieve, music?"
This is what Sabine had been put through for as long as she could remember. Every time she learned and mastered something new, Sabine knew what was to come. She hated the fact that accomplishing something a white person could do was met with oohs and awws in the most mocking fashion from Genevieve's friends. Sabine remembered one night that word had spread at a party that she was fluent in French and for the rest of night she was bombarded with requests of ‘saying something in French’. She felt like an animal in a zoo and she knew that's how most people viewed her in the first place.
"Teach anymore parlor tricks to your pet Genevieve?"
Sabine would internally scowl every time she witnessed Genevieve be lavished in praise by her friends for her work. Isn't it sweet? The benevolent mistress bestowing an education to a lowly slave like herself. The Southern Belle, extending her graciousness to one of her lowliest effects.
Oh, but Sabine would find little ways to carry out her revenge especially as she grew older and was given tasks that held more responsibility. Her favorite way, "accidentally" pulling her mistress' corset too tight or "accidentally" stabbing her in the scalp with hairpins. Her yelps of pain would bring a ghost of smile to Sabine's lips which would instantly vanish if Genevieve turned around to scold her for her carelessness. And of course Sabine would offer a quick apology, telling her mistress that she didn't mean to and will be more mindful in the future. But the second Genevieve left the room, Sabine would let out a snicker only to be popped in the back of the head by Alice, the woman, who's in charge in keeping the rest of the slaves in order.
The blow was not out of malice, further from that really, it was out of love and concern. Alice had been like a mother figure to Sabine since the day she arrived on the plantation.
"One day the Mistress is not going to put up with your 'mistakes'," Alice warned, worry was evident in her eyes.
It wasn't until Sabine would turn sixteen the following year that Alice's warning would finally sink in for her. The most ironic thing about it was the fact that it didn't happen because of one of Sabine's mischievous acts, it happened because of the wandering eyes of Genevieve's husband, Aaron Martin. What's even more ironic, is that Master Martin didn't even want Sabine in the house at first, he wanted to make her a field hand. Genevieve convinced him otherwise, saying that she would be malleable and make the perfect, obedient slave since she had no attachments on their plantation.
She was wrong.
The decision to keep Sabine as a house slave would be one that Genevieve would come to regret, but only out of wounded pride. Sabine, on the other hand, longed for freedom and was desperate to escape the growing tension between Genevieve and Master Martin. She doubted that they knew how many times she fantasized about running away from the plantation. It was more than once as each day passed.
She had good reason to as well, Sabine had noticed that the mistress had been short-tempered with her as of late. And that was never more evident on one fateful day, where everything in Sabine's life seemed to further spiral out of what little control she had.
Sabine wiped down the top of the fireplace on the far wall of the parlor room, humming to herself.
"What's that song?"
Sabine stumbled in surprise of hearing Master Martin's voice, his French accent only slightly there. Pushing away from the fireplace, she tightened her grip around the rag in her hands as she stood at attention. His thin lips were curled up into a smile, a smile that Sabine was sure he thought would put her at ease, it didn't. Matter of fact, the expression had the exact opposite effect, Sabine thought his smile looked like a wound opening. Everything about the forty-five year old man unnerved her, Master Martin had a complexion that teetered between being pale and matte, short, dark brown hair sat on top of his oblong head. His long face made his humped nose prominent, but the most terrifying feature on his face was those piercing gray orbs.
It was the eyes of a predator stalking its prey.
Bowing her head in apology, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you, Master," Sabine apologized, vowing not to hum again.
"You didn't disturb me. What is that song?"
It's something that her mother would sing to her when she was younger. Sabine couldn't remember the words to the song, but she knew how the tune went, it was the only piece of her mother that she had left of her.
Shaking her head, "I don't know," Sabine lied remorselessly.
Instead of letting her get back to her work, Master Martin just continued staring at Sabine, it made her flesh crawl. His eyes traveled from her face before letting them roam down to her neck and then onto her chest. This had become increasingly normal behavior for Master Martin, each week it seemed like he managed to find her alone and just study her figure. His eyes would always linger on her breasts, and that was what made Sabine most uncomfortable in his presence.
Master Martin leaned against the door frame, "You've been filling out your dress quite nicely as of late Cecile," he commented, now looking at slim waist and then her hips as his tongue darted out to wet his lips.
Sabine had to swallow down the bile she felt that might escape her mouth.
"Cecile!" Genevieve's shrill voice called from down the hall. "Cecile! Where are you, you daft girl?!" she yelled, as she stopped right beside her husband. "Aaron, dear, what are you looking-" she began, but cut herself off when she followed her husband's leering gaze. Genevieve's expression hardened and she narrowed her eyes at Sabine, pressing her lips together into a thin line. She stormed over to Sabine and came to a stop in front of her.
"Mistress I-" Sabine started, but Genevieve's hand whipped out and struck her hard across the face. Sabine's head snapped to the side and she lowered her stare to the floor, her breath uneven as she rubbed her cheek.
It was the hardest slap she had ever received.
"You stupid girl! Why are you distracting the Master?" she demanded, glowering at Sabine. "Get out of here and get back to work!" she ordered, her rising temper reflected in her face.
"Yes Mistress," Sabine replied, quickly bowing her head as tears began to well up in her eyes.
"And didn't I tell you to cover that horrid hair of yours? The sight of it is revolting!"
Genevieve had never once demanded Sabine to cover her hair, not until that day. But from that day on, Sabine wore a headscarf religiously to cover her head. Sabine figured that Genevieve's thought process probably fell along the lines of, if Sabine's hair wasn't visible then she'd become less attractive. It was a flawed logic that did nothing of the sort, much to Genevieve's and Sabine's dismay. So, for Sabine, the physical and mental abuse she received from Genevieve increased on a scale that she never experienced before.
The days of Sabine just being a pet to show off to Genevieve's friends to poke fun at her, were long gone.
Genevieve now saw Sabine as competition for Master Martin's attention. Attention that Sabine never wanted in the first place, Genevieve could keep her disgusting husband all to herself for all she cared. But of course, Genevieve would never see it Sabine's way, no, somehow Sabine's at fault for Master Martin's lustful stares.
Things only seemed to get progressively worse for Sabine as the years passed and her body continued to mature. Not only did she draw the unwanted attention from her perverted master, but she unfortunately also captured the eldest son's attention, Marc. He was almost a spitting image of his father, but was by far, worse than him. He's actually touched her in inappropriate ways, too many times for Sabine to recall. At least Master Martin just stared at her, although Sabine was sure that one day he might begin touching her as well, her worst fear was that he would flat out rape her.
Lord knows, Marc had been working his way up to it.
Sabine noticed that he had become increasingly aggressive as of late. And that frightened her to no end. She remembered one time after a dinner party she had to serve in the parlor room where the male guests were playing cards. She had just finished serving a round of drinks to Marc's table and the way he decided to thank her was to roughly squeeze her ass with a disingenuous smile. This action made the men at the table roar with laughter, but all Sabine could feel was mortification.
She wanted to curl up into a ball and cry in the corner of the small shack that she called home.
Sabine wanted to believe that the abuse she was suffering could not get any worse, she thought wrong. For, not only was she terrorized by the Martin's, but Marc's arrogant, smug college friends who often visited the plantation, partook in her torment as well. They would whisper things in her ears that no upstanding, God-fearing gentlemen would ever say to a white woman.
And for having such a supposed repulsion and violent reaction to someone of her complexion, white men sure seem to fancy negro flesh. It was confusing, yet terrifying realization. How could you hate and treat someone with so much scorn, but at the same time want to sleep with them?
Sabine's worst experience with one of Marc's friends was that he managed to corner her and forceful stick his hand up her dress, grabbing her thigh, luckily his hand wasn't able to go any higher thanks to one Alain Martin.
The only kind-hearted Martin in the family.
Alain, the curly headed and bright blue-eyed boy who always had a boyish grin on his face. He actually treated Sabine and the other slaves on the plantation like actual human beings, showing them dignity and respect, something that was completely foreign to them. Sabine wondered how the cruelty that Alain's family gleefully inflicted on the slaves didn't corrupt him and make him turn out like them. Maybe it was because Alain had actually questioned his surroundings as a child and didn't simply just accept what his mother and father told him as fact. She could recall many times Alain saying, ‘that doesn't seem right’ as a child.
And as Alain grew older, he continued to challenge his parents on the practice of slavery, prompting several arguments and debates, especially when it was dinnertime. Sabine had been a witness to quite a few of the shouting matches that would erupt at the table between Alain and Master Martin, Alain would also go at it with his older brother. Marc claimed, 'that because of the negro skull size all they were capable of was menial work and that white people were justified for enslaving them. With no one to oversee the negroes, they would hurt themselves'. This claim only enraged Alain further and Sabine as well.
Sabine had more knowledge in her pinky, than Marc's thick skull.
She pitied Alain, he had become the black sheep of the family. He attended college in the North and his views against slavery had only become stronger. He was an unapologetic abolitionist, which of course was completely the opposite of what his family believed. There would be many times that Sabine found herself listening to Alain as he vented out his frustrations about his family. She didn't mind, because that's what friends do, you let them vent.
However, it was not always like this, the bond they shared now as young adults would seem unimaginable to Sabine when she was younger.
Sabine and Alain had spent a lot of time together as children, but not because she wanted to, at first. The only reason she and Alain were in close proximity all the time, was the fact that she was tasked with fanning him while he had lessons with his tutor. Sabine resented him, they were only two years apart and yet here she was fanning him like he was some type of king. She was cold towards him (as respectfully as possible) and it went on like that for a couple of months, until Alain decided to speak to her when his tutor went inside the house.
"Pssst, Cecile, do you know how to say this word?" he asked, pointing to a word in his book.
Internally, Sabine arched a brow, she didn't know if he was asking out of genuine curiosity or to mock her.
"No sir," she answered, her grip tightening on the fan at the fact that she had to address a fellow child as 'sir'.
"You didn't even look," he argued softly, looking up at her. "Come on, I know you're smart, probably smarter than me," he added, moving the book closer to her eyes.
"Don't let the master and mistress hear that," Sabine remarked mindlessly, before freezing at what she let slip from her mouth.
Sabine expected to hear Alain run from his seat and tell his parents what she said, instead she heard giggles.
"You're funny Cecile," he commented, shaking his head.
A breath of relief left Sabine and she craned her neck, "What's the word, sir?" she asked, her eyes scanning the ink on the page.
"This one," he replied, pointing to the third word on the page.
Sabine nodded her head, "It's glaciers, sir," she said, before looking at Alain.
"Thank you Cecile," he smiled, bringing the book closer to him again.
"Your welcome sir,"
"Alain," he corrected.
"What, sir?" Sabine asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Call me Alain,"
And from that day forward, to some extent a friendship was born. The breaks in between Alain's lessons where his tutor wasn't present, were the only time that the two of them could really speak to each other. Alain did most of the talking, he told Sabine things he probably wasn't supposed to and if his mother ever found what Alain told her, Sabine was sure that Genevieve would just about faint. Sabine on the other hand, was much more reserved on what she was willing to tell Alain. She never told him anything personal, just mainly what she did each day. Sabine was afraid of telling Alain something that could somehow finds its way back to Genevieve. But, as years passed and they slowly matured, Sabine finally felt that she trusted Alain enough to tell him her real name when they were fourteen.
She hadn't heard the name Cecile since.
It was a friendship of secrecy, but that didn't mean Alain wouldn't try to protect Sabine as best he could. Alain could do it overtly, like he done with Marc's friend by yanking him away from Sabine and punching him square in the jaw. Other times, he would opt for more subtle ways that were just as effective. Remember the assault that Sabine suffered in the parlor room? Well, Alain was a witness to his older brother's molesting of her.
Alain strode over to Marc, appearing as though he was going to tell him off, which for Sabine's sake, she hoped he wasn't. It would only lead to further humiliation of her in some sort of fashion and probably Alain as well. Alain approached the table where his brother was playing cards when he suddenly tripped over his feet. Sabine watched in almost awe as the champagne flew in the air before raining down all over Marc, soaking his hair and a part of his evening jacket and dress shirt.
Marc's face turned beet red.
Sabine had to force herself to keep a neutral face, for a grin was threatening to form on her lips followed by uncontrollable laughter.
"You clumsy idiot!" Marc exclaimed, venom laced in his insult.
Alain didn't seem affected by the remark, "I'm so sorry brother," he apologized, without the faintest hint of sincerity in his eyes. "I'll go get some towels for you," he offered, before turning to look at Sabine. "Will you escort me? I would hate for my clumsiness to resort in another mess," he explained, and Sabine nodded.
"Of course sir," she stated, and led Alain out the parlor room.
Once they were in the hallway and out of view from everyone, Alain grabbed Sabine's wrist and pulled her along to the bustling sounds of the kitchen. Entering the room, Alain let go of her wrist and the two of them stared at each other before bursting out in laughter. Sabine felt tears forming in her eyes and used the back of her finger to wipe it away.
"You're going to get an earful from your mother Alain," Sabine warned, with a breathless laugh.
"I don't give a damn," Alain declared, a proud grin on his lips. "Marc deserved it," he added, nodding his head.
Sabine leaned back against the counter, "You didn't have to do that for me," she said, looking over to her friend.
"No," Alain disagreed, vigorously shaking his head. "I had to, Sabine," he corrected, his expression turning serious. "Marc assaulted you. He humiliated you," he continued, his hands bawling up into fists. "Humiliation in return, it was the least I could do," Alain explained, and Sabine ran her hand up and down his arm soothingly. "I know it won't erase what was done to you Sabine, but I had to do something," he finished, his gaze soft as he looked at her.
"It is a small victory I shall revel in for a long time," Sabine said, placing her hand on top of his shoulder. "Thank you, Alain,"
Chapter Three: Steal Away
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