#not anybody or anything else. he wants to still be him at the end. whether that's worth much to anyone else or not. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tender-rosiey · 3 days

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plsss would u do sukuna taking care of his pregnant wife? like noticing his robes keep disappearing, only to figure out its his wife. or more dad!kuna 🙏🏾

robes — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: me👰‍♀️ ➕ 👹heianera!sukuna

sukuna is a deeply preceptive man.

it’s something he prides himself over, and since he is observant, he quickly notices that his robes start going missing.

in the beginning, he thinks that it’s probably the increased number of bloodied robes because he has been going on a higher number of rampages the past couple of days.

so, he goes to uraume to inquire about why the delivery of his robes has been later than usual.

uraume quickly responds that they have been personally delivering the clean robes to his chambers and ensuring that they are placed where he can clearly see them.

the revelation makes sukuna annoyed because that means that someone has been stealing his robes directly from his chambers.

he is presented with two courses of actions—excluding the option of saving himself the trouble and just killing all the servants: sending uraume to spy on the whole ordeal or investigate it himself.

considering how he has been pretty bored the past couple of days, he decides on the latter. the past few rampages have given a clear warning to the rest of the villages surrounding his castle.

so, with nothing else to do, sukuna takes it upon himself to monitor the main entrance of his chambers to see whether anybody enters the room after uraume places the robes in the room.

so, he situates himself near the room but far away so that they can’t catch him.

he stays there for a good couple of hours, yet he sees no one, not even in the darkness of the night: the supposed prime time for a thief.

perhaps the thief has been made aware of sukuna’s inspection? but that would mean that the robes would still be in the chambers. so, sukuna enters his room in search of his robes, but, to his surprise, he doesn’t find them.

that immediately leads him to concluding that whoever is stealing his robes is someone who has access to the hidden door of his room.

and no one knows about that door except—

“y/n.”

you yelp and slowly turn to your husband. he is standing there, arms crossed, brows furrowed, and an everlasting frown on his face. you have been caught and are in some big trouble.

you don’t falter immediately though. you try to act normal. you smile nervously, “yes, my love? is something bothering you?”

keyword: try.

he repeats your name lowly, and you quickly crumble. you visibly deflate and lower your head as you murmur, “yes…”

he nods in satisfaction before asking the awaited question, “where are my robes?”

your hands rest on your lap, and you fidget with your fingers.

you still can’t figure out what his reaction will be. so far, he is just gathering information. he is giving you nothing to work with, so you have no other option but to comply and just keep answering him.

sighing, you answer him, “my closet.”

he quirks an eyebrow and sits in front of you. his hand is placed on your head, and he raises your head, so you’re looking him in the eyes. it’s something that you have noticed only being done to you.

you had absentmindedly asked your head servant about it, and said servant, uraume, had told you that it’s because he views you as an equal and does not take pleasure in your fear and acting inferior to him.

and in the end, sukuna only does what pleases him. if it doesn’t please him then why do it?

he hums as if in thought before egging you on, “and why are my robes in your closet? in fact—” he smirks, eyes observing your frame, “why are you currently wearing my robes?”

you pull the robes tighter around yourself, and you purse your lips. sukuna wants an answer right now, and while he is enjoying your ‘suffering’, but he also wants to know what’s wrong.

if there is anything that he hates then it’s not knowing, especially if it’s something about you, his very pregnant wife.

his hand travels to your jaw, and he grips it lightly.

“so?” he says as he tilts your head to the slide slightly.

“you…have been gone for longer than usual lately, and I have been missing you,” you admit softly as you try your best to maintain eye contact, but you end up looking away.

he is still silent, so you continue laying out your reasoning, “and for some reason, the robes alleviate the pregnancy pain. I couldn’t find any logical or scientific reason, but I think—

—it’s because the robes are filled with your cursed energy, maybe acting as a kind of assurance to the baby that you are beside us even if you aren’t.”

he doesn’t grace you with any reaction nor reply for quite a while, and it makes you think that he is probably thinking about how foolish the entire scenario is.

so, you add hesitantly, “or something like that…”

after a moment, though, he sighs and simply says, “you could’ve just asked me, you foolish woman.”

you blink confused, “and you, my ‘no one takes what’s mine’ husband, would’ve allowed that?”

“you, idiot, are mine, so my belongings are yours anyway,” he states, and his hands rest on your stomach, “this is mine too, so you have to take good care of it.”

a smile takes over your face, and you nod happily, “of course, I will!”

you pause for a second, and it has sukuna confused.

you frown and you point your finger at him while reprimanding him, “and don’t call me an idiot, mister! I am your wife, and I am blessed with a good name.”

a pinch is delivered to your butt which makes you shriek. you jump away from you husband and start rubbing the spot in attempt to soothe it.

sukuna smiles wickedly before suggesting, “how about I help you with that?”

“no! keep your hands off of me, you brute!”

he chuckles, and it echoes throughout the room. it’s kind of creepy. you always said that you wanted to add more furniture to avoid that situation.

you start thinking about the new design for the room when your husband speaks up, “and regarding my absence the past few of days.”

you turn your head to him, and he continues, “I will be putting my plans on pause for a while, so you don’t have to resort to the robes for the time.”

he turns his back to you before announcing, “I am expecting you at dinner and later in my chamber. is that clear?”

you feel giddiness fill you up, and you reply enthusiastically, “yes, my king!”

“good,” he smirks.

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

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talaok · 13 days

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Okay so I’m thinking Pedro x Actress!reader where another famous guy/actor says in an interview that he has a crush on us which makes Pedro a bit jealous and then we all end up at the same event - maybe Pedro gets abit angsty with him but he’s super loving and affectionate toward us…

warnings: jelousy

a/n: it goes without saying that i apologize for the wait babe, i really loved this request

It wasn't that he hated him, it was just that if anything were to happen to him he wouldn't be the one to cry, that's all...

and maybe he'd thought about punching that smug look off his face one... or twice... or every time the thought of him came up.

But it still wasn't hate

Hate is a strong word, and Pedro wasn't not one to throw it around easily, he was all for peace and love and everything but this guy... this guy was really pushing the limits

And what the actual fuck was he even doing here tonight?

"You're staring"

Your soft, amused voice pulled him out of his own thoughts, his eyes sliding to you

"I just don't get why he's here"

You stifled a laugh as you answered "The same reason why we are baby"

"he's not even nominated" he grumbled,

"neither am I" You smiled, placing your hand on his cheek, feeling his soft scruff graze your palm "It's not a big deal babe, he probably said my name just because it was the first one that popped into his mind" you shook your head "I bet it's not even true"

Yeah right

He would have believed that if you were anybody else, but you... fuck- it didn't take him even a second to fall in love and you expected him to believe that that guy didn't have a crush on you? He would have sooner begun believing that Mark Zuckerberg was one of those lizard guys.

You were everything anyone could have ever dreamed of, you were funny, so incredibly smart it made him feel like a fifth grader in comparison, and god you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen

he knew what you did to men, he knew what you did to men because that's exactly what you did to him,

and he didn't even mind that much, he'd never been the jealous type, but the problem with Shawn wasn't that he liked you (because he clearly did), but it was that he had the audacity, the smugness to fucking say it out loud, to admit it in front of a camera for anyone to see, like the woman he was talking about didn't have a husband, like he wasn't her fucking husband.

"I saw him look at you before"

This time, you did let out a little snort

"what, how dares he?" you mocked him, laughing again as his face remained completely unamused "It's your big night babe, don't let this silly little thing ruin it, please"

But just then, just when he was finally starting to let go a little, the focus of all of his loathing appeared beside you

"I'm sorry to interrupt-"

Then fucking don't

"I just wanted to introduce myself"

Shawn's eyes were only on you, as if he didn't even exist, as if your hands hadn't been on his cheeks but a moment prior

"I'm Shawn," he said, offering his hand to you "I'm... well, I'm a really big fan" he ended with a soft laugh, smiling in that charming way that surely made women all woozy

"Hi Shawn, it's a pleasure to meet you-"

As you shook his hand, Pedro was closing his into fists

This fucking guy-

"Hi pal"

Pedro's voice didn't sound even a little bit not completely pissed off

"I'm Pedro," he said "her husband"

The flicker of amusement that sparked behind his eyes made Pedro seriously ponder whether or not a little punch was that bad of an idea

"Oh, I didn't know you were married"

Andrew's eyes were back to you, and god it was taking all of Pedro not to grab him and throw him to the other side of the room

Just the fact that he was looking your way seemed too much,

How dare he look at you, at his beautiful wife, at the love of his life?

It felt wrong, it was wrong, and it was making him furious

"I'm sure you didn't" Pedro grunted, taking a slow step closer to him "Shawn right?" he asked, even though he knew much too well who he was "What exactly are you doing here?" Pedro's eyes narrowed, his head tilting "I didn't notice your name in any of the nominations"

"baby" your soft warning was met with a soft smile from him, one that faded into a stoic/murderous gaze as soon as your husband's eyes were back on the man before him

"I'm just asking a question sweetheart, that's all"

Shawn seemed to accept Pedro's challenge in the blink of an eye

"I'm here with a friend, he's the one that got the nom"

Pedro nodded slowly, "ah. Right," he said, his hand going to your back and drawing gentle circles on it

He didn't miss the way Shawn followed the movement

"And why exactly are you talking to my wife Shawn?"

Now that, that seemed to take him aback a little, but he recovered quickly

"What?" he laughed "is no one allowed to talk to your wife without your permission or something?"

"Oh absolutely not, my wife can talk to whomever she wishes," Pedro spoke "I'm just not very fond of her talking to men that have openly admitted to liking her" he shrugged as if his eyes and voice weren't yelling murder

You, in the meantime, were busy looking for the fastest way out of this place

"You've seen the video," Shawn said more like a statement

"I sure did" Your husband nodded "I especially liked the part where you described her as your "dream woman""

Shawn sighed loudly, shaking his head

"listen, man-"

"No, you listen, man" Pedro interrupted him "How 'bout you get the fuck away from me and my wife, mh?" he said more like a threat "How bout that?"

Shawn let out a loud breath before responding

"whatever man" he sighed, his eyes moving to you "It was nice to meet you y/n, maybe we can meet another time..." he glanced to the man on your right "when the guard dog isn't around"

"yeah" Pedro scoffed "Go fuck yourself, buddy"

You both stared at his back as he walked away, but after no more than two seconds, you couldn't help but let your lips pull into the smile you'd been holding this whole time

"that was a bit harsh"

Pedro only grinned as he brought you flash against him with his hands on your waist

"Like you haven't done worse" he smirked

Yeah... while Pedro wasn't usually jealous, you were... let's just say you were not exactly on the same wavelength

"you looked ready to kill him" you chuckled, wrapping your arms behind his neck

"mh" he hummed, ghosting your mouth "Who says I wasn't" he teased, his lips crashing with yours in a long, deep kiss that Pedro absolutely didn't wish for Shawn to be witnessing

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reiding-writing · 2 months

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i LOVE your angsts

you can write something about the reader and spencer being apart after a conflict, being childish and sarcastic towards each other afterwards, and then, one of the cases ends in an explosion and, or, fire in which one of the two is trapped and alone, and the other takes risks to save him

who knows, maybe one of the two in the hospital is still delirious and asking to marry the other? anyway, you choose

basically two idiots in love and proud who can't bear the thought of losing each other

thanks 🥺🫶🏻

commitment [ s.r ]

You love Spencer Reid more than anything in the world, but committing to someone for life was not something to be considered lightly. A life or death situation might speed up the decision process a little.

spencer reid x gn!reader || angst || 4.0k ll masterlist!!

WARNINGS: commitment issues, fire, major character injury, miscommunication, happy ending

a/n: happy 29th of february? is that something to be celebrated? anyway, kinda took this one on a rollercoaster ride, enjoy :)

Spencer Reid wanted a family.

He wanted to get married, have 2.5 kids and live in a house with two cars and a white picket fence.

But he didn’t just want that with anybody, he wanted that with you.

You weren’t sure.

You loved Spencer with your whole heart, you really did, but after your parents’ failed marriage and your negative experiences with romantic relationships in the past, the fact that you’d even been in a committed relationship with Spencer for the last four years was an achievement in itself.

You’d talked about it a few times, but you’d always come to opposite decisions. Spencer wanted to settle down with you, and you were afraid to do so.

Your most recent conversation on the subject ended less as a conversation and more as an argument.

“So you don’t really love me then?” You could see the betrayal in his eyes at you again shutting down the idea, his tone carrying more upsetness than accusation.

“No Spencer of course I love you what are you talking about?” You can feel yourself nearing tears at his question. He was quite literally the person you loved most in the world, and to have him shut down your feelings because you didn’t see eye to eye with him broke your heart.

You spent the next few days staying with Garcia.

You tried to not let your disagreement with Spencer influence your work, but the fact that you wouldn’t so much as spare a glance at each other during office hours tipped off the rest of the team about your situation immediately.

“So,” Morgan leaned his hip against the counter of the kitchenette as you fixed yourself a cup of coffee, neglecting Spencer’s mug on the shelf instead of making both cups at once like you’d usually do.

“So?” You raise an eyebrow at his incomplete sentence.

“What’s going on between you and pretty boy?”

You sigh before he even finishes the question. “It’s nothing for you to worry about,”

“Your lover’s quarrel is ruining the vibes, it is most definitely something for me to worry about,” You roll your eyes at his response. Trust Morgan to find the most unserious way to express his concern for the two of you.

Logically you knew it was because he wanted to tread lightly, but that didn’t make it any less eye-roll inducing.

“So,” He leans forwards a little. “What’s going on? Did you disagree on whether Star Trek or Star Wars was better or something?”

You give him a deadpan stare and he immediately surrenders, raising up his hands as he concedes.

“What else do you have to argue about? You guys are like the most boring couple I know,” Morgan shrugs nonchalantly, and you halt the stirring of your teaspoon in your drink.

Boring? You weren’t boring. Were you? Did Spencer think you were boring? Did he think your relationship was boring? Maybe he only wanted to tie the knot in the hope that it would ‘reignite the spark’ or whatever people said.

“Hey.” Morgan snapped his fingers in front of your face, effectively pulling you out of your internal spiral.

“Hm?”

“I asked if it was serious, Garcia told me you’ve been staying with her the last few days,”

Curse Garcia and Morgan’s no filter relationship.

“Everything’s fine, we both just need time to cool off,”

“You’re sure?”

You have to consciously suppress a sigh at his continued questioning. Morgan was great, but god did he push.

“Yes Morgan, everything’s fine,” You spoke with enough conviction that you managed to convince him of your truth, although whether you believed it yourself was another question.

“Good, because if you two ever broke up I’m pretty sure the whole team would fall apart,” His tone tells you his joking, as does his expression as he leaves you to your coffee, but your brain isn’t as kind as to just let the comment fly over your head, and you’re sent into another spiral as you make your way back over to your desk.

Do the whole team really think of your relationship with Spencer as a vital part of its inner workings? What if it really didn’t work out? What would happen then?

Would the whole team fall into chaos?

You didn’t want to break off your relationship with Spencer. But what if it did happen?

Your thoughts leak into your body language, your shoulders tense as you sit down and your eyes not quite focused on the papers on your desk.

It didn’t help that Spencer sat directly opposite you either. It was like the world was trying to rub your conflict in your face every time you saw his hair in your peripheral vision.

You could feel his eyes boring into the top of your head, but you knew he wouldn’t say anything. It was one of the faults in his character, and yours you suppose, because even if he did ask you what was wrong you’d probably blow him off anyway.

The tension between the two of you was enough for Emily and Morgan to share a glance across the bullpen to each other, although they didn’t have enough time to corner you into asking what was actually going on as Hotch called the team into the conference room.

The silent feud between the two of you continued into the meeting, sitting on opposite ends of the table like you were two negative magnets being forced away from each other by an insurmountable pressure.

It was a little silly you think, to be so removed from each other after a single argument, but when Spencer put his foot down about something, he held his ground under any circumstance.

And so the two of you were destined to lie in a stalemate, sat seething in silent frustration with each other until one of you eventually caved under the pressure.

It wasn’t going to happen.

It was another fault of the two of you. You were both too damn stubborn for your own good, and it was beginning to affect your ability to work together.

You were supposed to be two sides of the same coin. Two gears intertwined and seamlessly rolling off of each other in perfect unison. Instead, you couldn’t even decide on the importance of a half-burned diary found at the scene of the last scene you’d arrived at, the fourth building set ablaze in Fallon in the last five days.

“This guy is clearly dealing with marital struggles, that could be our trigger,”

Of course he had marital struggles, because you couldn’t escape your own issues even when you were two-thousand miles across the country.

“We don’t even know if that diary belongs to our unsub,” You sigh exasperatedly as you slump back in your chair.

“It was a grocery store. Who brings a diary to a grocery store unless it’s something extremely important to them? It has to belong to our unsub.”

“Spencer-”

“You know that I’m more likely to be right about this,”

You can’t help but scoff at his statement, discarding your coffee mug on the round table and causing small brown droplets to coat the surface of the wood from the force. “You’re really pulling the intelligence card? Seriously?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Spencer shrugs his shoulders with a furrowed expression. “My intelligence is what got me here and it’s telling me that this diary belongs to our unsub,”

“And my experience is telling me that you’re fixating on this goddamn diary instead of looking for things that could be actually useful to finding this guy because you want to feel sorry for yourself by living through his struggles.” You gesture exasperatedly to the book in his hands, becoming increasingly frustrated with Spencer’s attitude towards you.

He might be smart, but you had almost half a decade on him in terms of experience. He had zero right to speak to you like that mid-feud or not.

“You’re angry at me, I get it. Don’t let it cloud your judgement.” You push yourself up from the table with a scowl, leaving your chair pushed out as you exit the station with the door slamming shut behind you.

“You’re sure this is the right place?” Morgan furrows his eyebrows as you approach the house, clearly run-down and looking as though no-one had lived in it in several years.

“I’m sure,” Spencer gave a determined nod as he un-holstered his gun, following the team into the house to sweep it for the suspect.

Despite your argument about the importance of the diary, Spencer had continues to fixate on it completely, leading to a partial name that Garcia had managed to identify and ultimately the house you were now running into.

You feel under-appreciated sometimes. Hotch always ended up going with Spencer’s choices, experience didn’t matter. It was like he had a tattoo across his forehead that read ‘I’m always right’ and everyone else took it as law.

But you’re not going to disobey direct orders, even if you did want to throw all of Spencer’s favourite books into a filled bathtub and watch him mourn over the ruined pages.

“Clear!”

You sweep the house room by room, you, Hotch, and Emily in charge of the ground floor whilst Morgan and Spencer went upstairs.

It was a complete ghost house. There was no electricity, no running water, smashed windows and moulded wallpaper, the furniture looked decades old and above all it just smelled horrific, a mix of leaking waste pipes and faulty gas lines. Were you seriously supposed to believe someone was living here?

“All clear up here,” Morgan emerged at the top of the stairwell with a shrug. “We got nothing,”

“Of course we don’t,” You mutter the words to yourself with a roll of your eyes, silently confirming your own victory at the obvious lack of human presence in the house Spencer was so sure belonged to the unsub.

“Alright, regroup outside,” Hotch called up to the two, gaining a nod from Morgan as he went to retrieve Spencer and bring him down as you exited the building.

“Nothing?” JJ tilted her head slightly as the three of you emerged, met with Emily shaking her head with a slightly awkward expression as she met your gaze.

“Nope, gross, but nothing,”

“Gross is right, it smelled like shit in there-” You clear your throat into your elbow like you’d managed to infest your lungs from the smell.

“Where’s Spence and Morgan?” You shrug your shoulders at JJ’s question heading back to the SUV to grab a bottle of water.

“Knowing Reid he’ll be over-analysing something,” Emily chuckles slightly, patting JJ on the shoulder as she follows you past her. “Morgan’ll get bored soon enough,”

“Are we going or what?” You call out from where you’re leaning against the car, water bottle being waved around in your hand as you gesture your impatience.

“Morgan and Reid are-” Emily stops as she spots Morgan walking out of the front door. “—Reid is still inside,”

“Of course he is,” You grumble to yourself with a roll of your eyes.

“He’s refusing to leave until he’s found something,” Morgan shrugs as he reaches Hotch’s side. “He’s adamant that there’s something to be found in there,”

“God seriously?” You groan out your words as you rejoin the group. “It’s an abandoned shit hole, there’s nothing to be found—”

A loud crash from the house interrupts your complaint.

Loud crashes are never good.

Neither is the bright orange flicker of light you can see through the front door. Definitely not when you’re working an arson case and Spencer Reid is still inside the house.

It’s like all the hours of you pondering how best to make Spencer suffer for his actions completely disappear as soon as the flames are in sight.

You couldn’t be angry at Spencer if he was dead.

The way the wooden beams of the door frame collapsed under the heat really cemented that thought in your mind.

“Spencer—”

Your attempt at running inside is promptly stopped by an outstretched arm that collides against your waist, winding you slightly and causing your expression to turn from fear to anger at the person who’d interrupted your attempt to vacate Spencer from the building.

“What are you doing?!” You push Morgan’s arm away from you harshly as you attempt to bypass him, but you don’t even get two steps forward before his arm is again blocking you from running into the burning building. “Get off me!”

“You can’t just run into a fire-” You continue to struggle against Morgan’s grip as he pleads his case to you, causing his voice to strain from the exertion of trying to keep you in one place.

“Morgan if you don’t let me go right now I swear to god-” Morgan withstands your threats with his strength, and you’re becoming increasingly resentful at just how much effort he’d gone through to stay physically fit.

“The fire department are on their way-” JJ’s voice is soaked in concern as she speaks, both hands clenched tightly around her phone as she stares into the open door of the house and the yellow-orange light that is quickly enveloping anything visible inside it. “They’re four minutes out,”

“Four minutes isn’t fast enough-”

“Hey-” Morgan continues to struggle against your writhing, planting both of his hands firmly against your shoulders and shaking them slightly in attempt to get your attention. “He’s going to be fine.” The uncertainty in his gaze tells you the opposite.

By the time you hear the sirens of fire engines rounding the street-corner, you don’t have the mental energy to feel relieved. All you can do is stare into the raging inferno that encapsulates the entire ground floor of the house and pray desperately that it didn’t manage to climb up the stairs. You know you’re being too optimistic.

You barely compute the obvious when a stretcher is prepared in front of the entrance, only coming to when you hear a worried gasp emanate from Emily at your side as Spencer is laid down on it after being recovered from the house’s master bedroom, very clearly unconscious and less clearly still breathing.

“Breathing is shallow, pulse is weak, we need to get him on oxygen,” The EMTs converse between themselves as they rush the stretcher into the fire ambulance, leaving you and your team to stand idly on the sidelines as both the fire and Spencer are taken care of by the firefighters on the scene.

You pace the waiting room on your heels, the sharp contact of your feet on the marbled floor leaving small shock waves to shoot up your legs as you walk. You couldn’t just sit down, you weren’t going to relax in a chair whilst the love of your life was possibly dying of asphyxiation. You were worried, terrified, and you had to release that nervous energy somehow.

If Spencer was here right now you’re sure he’d reprimand you for your nervous habit, rattling on about how heel-striking is dangerous for the health of your legs as it compresses your entire weight into a single point that can have bad impacts on your bones. Thinking about it just makes you feel worse, making you pace more and ultimately creating a self-fulfilling cycle where the more you thought about what he’d say the worse your actions would get.

At least you were actually in the hospital waiting and not back in the station waiting for a call. God knows you’d be more of a burden to the rest of the team than a help right now.

“Visitors for… Spencer Reid?” The nurse checks the clipboard in her hands as she speaks, and the second you hear the first syllable of his name you’re diverting your pacing to walk straight up to the nurse’s side.

“He’s awake but dreary, and he’s refusing any medication to help with the pain in his esophagus,” The nurse explains his conditions to you as she leads you down the hallway, shrugging her shoulders slightly at the mention of his refusal of pain medication.

“He can’t take narcotics, do you have any substitutes? NSAIDs?”

The nurse nods slightly at your explanation, checking her clipboard once more as she stops you at a wooden door. “I’ll have a look and see what I can find,”

“Thank you,” You give her a small nod and a smile as she leaves you at the door, suddenly even more nervous than you were in the waiting room. Not only was Spencer now in recovery for smoke inhalation and minor burns, the last ‘conversation’ the two of you had was an argument. A stupid, petty argument because you were both stubborn assholes who couldn’t agree to disagree on anything.

What if he didn’t want to see you? You were probably the last person he wanted at his bedside right now after everything that’d happened. Maybe you shouldn’t go in and see him.

Your hand is already opening the door. Okay, well, too late to second guess things now.

“Hey Spencer…” Your voice is barely a whisper as you enter the room, door shutting seamlessly behind you as you walk towards his hospital bed, fingers ringing together as a work around to release all of the nervous tension in your body without bursting into tears. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I ate a campfire-”

His words are enough to break the small tension between you, and you laugh softly in a mix of relief and worry. At least he was alright enough to be able to speak properly. The burn on his arm looked pretty bad though.

“You look like you ate a campfire,” You approach his hospital bed slowly, taking a seat on the plastic chair at his side and gazing over him with an entirely pitiful look in your eyes.

“I’m okay…” It was like he could read your mind, then again your sure that most people would be able to see how distraught you were right now, but Spencer was always the first to notice, and he languishly reached his hand out to rest against your knee.

You started crying the minute his fingers made contact with your slacks.

“I’m so sorry-” It felt a little silly to be crying in front of someone who’d just been trapped in a burning building and was probably experiencing an insane amount of pain from the lack of medication, but emotions don’t always follow logical boundaries. “I’ve been so- horrible to you and you didn’t deserve it at all-”

You’re sure you look like an absolute mess by now, tears staining your cheeks from your crying, a blotchy complexion from your stress, wrinkled clothes and ruined hair from constantly messing with them to try and find a release for all of your anxiety, but the way Spencer looks at you would have you assuming you’d stepped right off a runway.

“You don’t have anything to apologise for,”

“But-”

“Nothing.” Spencer shakes his head to the best of his ability as he shuts down your rebuttal, and he shifts his hand upwards to lie over your two hands clasped in your lap. “I shouldn’t have tried to pressure you into something that you’re not ready for, that was my fault, and for that I’m the one who needs to be saying sorry,”

“No I get it-”

“I made you uncomfortable and upset and that was never my intention,” Spencer continues to cut off your attempts to speak, something he’d usually rather die than do to you - or anyone for that matter - but deemed a necessity to stop you from lumping all of the blame on yourself when you had done nothing more than establish a boundary. A boundary that Spencer didn’t respect.

“I love you, and I want to spend every waking hour I have in your presence, I want to sleep with you in my arms and wake with you by my side. I want to experience every up and down with you and keep you safe and loved at every instance,” Spencer gives your hand a small squeeze as he looks at you, your reflection in his eyes one of pure beauty and perfection. “I didn’t do that for you in our last disagreement, and I can only hope that you’ll forgive me and allow me to make up for that moving forward,”

Spencer’s fingers ghost over the back of your hand, pressing small circles into the dips between your fingers and gently massaging your skin. “I want to do nothing more than love you, and a piece of paper and a pair of rings won’t change that either way.”

You swear that you melt with every word that leaves the boy’s mouth, and if he wasn’t currently hospital bound you’d smother his face in kisses until he couldn’t breathe anymore.

In respect for his condition you turn you affections to his hand instead, holding it up to your face and pressing deft kisses against the curve of each of his knuckles, silent tears still sliding down your cheeks. Tears of a different trajectory this time, filled no longer with guilt and frustration and instead replaced with the realisation of just how much you mean to Spencer Reid.

“I love you so much,” Your lips brush the back of his hand as you speak, his fingers dampening with the lingering moisture of your tears as you hold his hand like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the earth. “So much.”

The smile that breaks out on Spencer’s face could cure any ailment in your mind within seconds. “I love you too,”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #mgg #asks 🫶

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mypoisonedvine · 11 months

Note

request for virgin eddie munson who loses his shit over anything and everything reader does

you are speaking my LANGUAGEEEE GOOD GOD

warning: smut, wholesomeness, eddie is down bad

"So... you've really never done this before?" you said, biting your lip. You have no excuse for why it kinda turned you on. Perhaps because it was the last thing you expected from a guy like Eddie... or because you got the feeling you could blow his mind without putting all too much effort into it.

"I-I mean, I've done stuff," he assured, "just... not this, yeah."

"Don't tell me you were saving yourself for the right girl," you joked, and he laughed nervously as he rubbed his palms on the trailer's ratty old couch.

"No," he breathed, "not really, just... never had much luck with girls, I guess."

"Well," you purred as you leaned in closer, running your hand over his chest through the adorable DIY Hellfire shirt, "if you don't mind giving up your virginity, you can get lucky tonight. How's that sound?"

"Uh... pretty much perfect," he laughed thinly.

But what truly sounded perfect was Eddie himself-- the way he moaned, whimpered, even begged for you as soon as you did anything for him. Grinding in his lap, making out and running through your fingers through that beautiful mess of hair... it seemed so easy to drive him crazy, and you loved it.

"Baby," he breathed, "I-- I don't know how much more I can take of this..."

"You've still got your jeans on," you noticed with a smirk.

"Yeah, and you've got your top off-- can't help it," he grinned, "you're gorgeous."

"God, I want you to fuck me," you sighed.

"What are we waiting for, then?" he cooed, running his hands up your bare back.

"W-well, it's just--"

"Oh, fuck," he breathed, "been down this road before-- sorta how I ended up still a virgin by now. But it's fine, we don't have to--"

"No, it's not that!" you interrupted. "I really want to... I just feel kinda weird about being your first."

"Weird, like, you don't want to be?" he asked, concerned.

"Weird, like, not sure why you want it to be me. Are you really sure?" you pressed.

"At this point, doll, I want it to be anybody," he joked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

You thought you hadn't shown your disappointment on your face, but he still noticed, and reached up to turn your head towards him when you looked away.

"Hold on, I didn't mean it like that," he promised. "I-I really want it to be you. Specifically-- like, not just any girl. Yes, I would pretty much take 'any girl' by now, as long as she's not, you know, an objectively horrible person, I guess... but oh my god, you..."

He pulled you a little closer, looking right into your eyes, and you had the terrifyingly wonderful thought that this might be more than just casually hooking up. You might have a tiiiny bit of a crush...

"You-- you're... so much better than I ever thought I could do," he continued laughing. "And I never made a big deal out of my first time-- I mean, I wanted it, but I didn't think it had to be special or anything. And it doesn't have to be, especially if you don't want it to be, but... I think it kind of is, more than I expected. Because, honestly, getting lucky with a smokin' babe like you is always gonna be special-- whether it's the first time or the thousandth time."

You kissed him again, a little differently than before; and he pulled you closer, holding you tight and sighing against you.

Before that, you'd imagined 'special' meant sweet, slow, patient-- really romantic stuff. That night, though, Eddie taught you that special could be wild, desperate, and just downright animalistic. Actually, he taught you that lesson repeatedly...

"So... just as special whether it's the first or the thousandth time, huh?" you remembered what he'd said as you both laid back, staring at the ceiling, panting like dogs.

"Yeah," he agreed, to exhausted to say much else.

"How about the second time?"

"The second time was five times ago, sweetheart," he laughed breathlessly.

"No, I mean like... the second date," you explained.

"As long as you give my dick a few days to recover... yeah, it'll be just as special next time."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #bex and jd's sleepover

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unnerving-presence · 1 year

Note

give me more Hcs of corruption kink with wesker please

of course <3 is this self indulgent because i would deadass act like this cause i’m both a people pleaser and a scared ass bitch who needs some reassurance in her life?? pfft.. nooo (yes)

not proofread

NSFW Below!

Wesker loves your innocence. It turns him on so damn much. He just loves how pure you are. It honesty drives him crazy. It’s something he promises to cherish and never change about you. He may want to taint that innocence, but he’ll always want it to stay. It’s the cutest thing about you. No matter how innocent you are or how you show your innocence, it’s always going to be his favorite part of you.

If you’re a virgin too? God, Wesker is holding back from absolutely pounding you into the bed. Tell him to be gentle? You’re lucky he has so much self control because hearing that only turns him on more. Don’t worry, he knows you’re inexperienced and will be gentle. You’ll get lots of praises and reassurance.

Another part of your innocence he loves is when you always ask questions or are oblivious to most sexual things. It really just solidifies the fact that you haven’t been touched by anybody else. Knowing that he’s going to be the one to taint your innocence, to teach you how to please him turns him on like no other. Also just.. finds it absolutely adorable when you look up at him and ask if you’re pleasing him right and if he feels good. You’re just so sweet and he loves it.

Even if you’re used to him he still can’t get enough of stretching you out. A mirror has been placed at a wall near the end of your bed just to he can spread your legs and watch as he pushes into you. It’s the cutest thing to see you rest your head on his shoulder and closed eyes and tensed brows. He knows he’s big, honey.. you can take it. He knows you can 🩷

He loves having you rely on him as well. It’s the cutest thing when you ask him for guidance when he wants you to do something new. It’s especially cute if you’re the one who wants to try something new, asking if he can help you. He just takes a certain pleasure in making sure you have a good time.

Cant get enough of the cute little noises you make. Whether it be your whimpers while you try and take him or your small moans when he thrusts into you, he loves each and every one of the sounds you make. Especially the whimpers. He has to put in extra effort to hold back, especially if you look up at him while you do it. You’re so irresistible to him and you don’t even know. It’s both frustrating at times but he can’t help but find it adorable that you’re so innocent and oblivious.

Breeds you for hours upon hours once he’s made sure you’re absolutely okay with him doing so and knowing how fast/hard he’ll go. He’s been holding back while teaching you and letting you get used to himself and he just.. really needs to let it all out. Gritting his teeth as he fucks you harder, holding your hips while he tells you how sweet and good you’ve been for him, panting at the thought of knowing he’ll forever taint that innocence, filling you up load after load knowing damn well nobody else has made you feel so good except him. You turn him on so much it’s unbelievable..

Even outside of the bedroom all Wesker wants is to protect you. You’re just the cutest thing and he’ll be damned if anything ever happens to you. Wesker’s never felt such affection. It’s honestly quite rare for him. Because of that, you’re special. More than you could ever know. Every day he feels like he got lucky knowing you’re in his life. You’ll have a good life with him.

#albert wesker x reader #albert wesker

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froggibus · 11 months

Text

The Death of Peace of Mind - Stu Macher! Ghostface

Pairing: Stu Macher! Ghostface x f! reader (reader uses female/she/her pronouns + has a pussy), Billy Loomis! Ghostface x f! reader (at the end), Billy Loomis x Stu Macher

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 2k

Summary: after finding out your boyfriend is the masked killer who’s been plaguing Woodsboro, you only have one request—you want him to take out his darkest urges on you

CW: Dark content ahead!!! dubcon, knife play, blood play, bondage (use of handcuffs and blindfolds), Stu cuts reader, bloodloss, oral (f! receiving), unprotected sex (yk what im gonna say), creampie, Stu chases you with a knife, exhibitionism/voyeurism, mentions of a threesome, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

incredibly self indulgent fic of my favorite Ghostface & the idea of being railed by him <3 this is a bit darker than what I normally write lol, also very tempted to write about getting railed by both Billy & Stu now

update ish? self indulgent part 2 w both Stu and Billy here

————

The minute the phone rings, the blood rushes to your ears. The entire town of Woodsboro had been warned against answering calls from unknown numbers after what happened to Casey and Steve. You weren’t worried, though.

Why fear the boogeyman when the boogeyman is the only person who makes you feel safe?

Stu always insisted on never letting you see the darker parts of him, on never sharing the weirder things he was interested in. He wanted to protect you from himself and the fucked up things he wanted to do to you. That all changed this morning when you stopped by his house to make sure he was awake in time for school, and saw the Ghostface mask in his closet.

You had grabbed it and tossed it at him, forcing him to explain himself.

The boy had stuttered over his words before he finally confessed: he was the one who had been killing people all around Woodsboro. Even more surprising than that was that he had a partner. Everyone, even the police, had only suspected one person was doing it.

He mumbled countless apologies, begging you not to leave him and begging you not to tell anybody or else ‘he’ would be mad. In all of his grovelling, though, he never mentioned who his partner was.

You cut him off. “Is this the dark stuff you didn’t want me to know about?”

He nodded slowly, tips of his ears burning red.

“Stu, I’m not going to tell anyone,” his head snaps up at your words, eyes lighting up. “But I have one condition.”

“Anything.”

You take a deep breath, biting your lip. “I want you to lose control. Do whatever you want to me, just let go. Don’t worry about whether I like it or not…just, show me those parts of you.”

“Y/n…”

“I mean it, Stu. Please?”

He’s reluctant to give in. He knows he would never hurt you, at least not severely, but the thought of showing you who he really is and what he wants to do makes him shiver. He doesn’t want you to stop looking at him like you do now.

Still, he gives in. He tells you to go home and relax, and maybe stock up on first aid supplies.

The thought of what he’s going to do to you fills you with excitement.

And now you’re sitting next to the ringing phone, knowing when you answer it that things will never be the same.

You press the phone to the side of your face, the cold buttons raising goosebumps on your skin. “Hello?”

“Hello, y/n.” The voice on the other end is deep and raspy, so masculine it has you clenching your thighs together.

“Who is this?”

Stu can’t help but smirk on the other end of the line. You’re playing the part of the innocent, dumb victim perfectly, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on. God, the things he wants to do to you.

“You tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine,” he responds.

“I don’t think so.”

You lay down on your back on the couch, playing with your hair, with the collar of your shirt, anything to keep you focused on the man talking in your ear.

“Come on,” he almost growls, “why don’t you tell me your name?”

You can’t help but giggle at the frustration in his voice. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because I want to know who I’m looking at.”

You suck in a breath. Smooth, you think. If you were anyone else, if you actually thought there was a chance he would kill you, his words would make you freeze. But tonight, all they did was make you shiver in anticipation.

You can feel your underwear soaking through with your arousal, your whole body warming. “L-looking at?”

Stu almost laughs at the way you nervously stutter. You sound so cute, so innocent…he really can’t wait to ruin you. He stifles his laughter from inside the closet.

“You heard me,” he says. “Don’t you want to know where I’m hiding?”

“You’re…you’re inside?”

A wave of fear washes over you. How had he gotten inside without you noticing? Is this how he had gotten to Casey, too? You hate how much it turns you on to think that he’s been here the whole time.

“Take a guess, come find me.”

Stu watches through the crack in the door as you stand from the couch with that puzzled look on your face. You spin around, the phone still pressed to your ear.

“What happens if I find you?”

Stu stays silent for a minute, watching you look around the living room to find him. Just as you get to the closet, your palm resting on the handle, he responds.

“I get to see what your insides look like.”

He pushes the closet door open and shoves you against the wall. You squeak, letting the phone clatter to the ground. Stu grabs your wrists in one of his hands and pins them above your head.

His other hand reaches for the knife in his waistband, holding up at eye level so you can see it. Your heart speeds up, your arms shake, your knees threaten to buckle.

He presses the knife at the centre of your collarbone, just above where your t-shirt begins. You can feel the sharp tip press into your skin, just enough to cause a bead of blood to roll down your chest.

“The things I’m going to do to you,” he breathes.

You almost call his name, but you know he’s not your boyfriend right now. You know he needs to let go, and part of that is to let go of himself, too.

He drags the knife down, cutting into the fabric of your t-shirt. He applies just enough pressure to easily slide the fabric, but not enough to actually hurt you. Still, you can feel the cool metal on your bare skin and it causes you to whimper.

Stu groans. You’re being so good for him, standing so still and just letting him do what he needs to do. He digs the knife into the soft fabric of your shorts, taking his time in slicing them down the middle.

Both pieces of fabric fall to the floor, leaving you in just your underwear in front of him. “I-I—” you’re not sure what you’re trying to say, but the words won’t come out regardless.

“I-I-I,” he mocks, holding the blade against your throat. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

You whimper and kick against him, your knee grinding against the bulge in his robe. He drags the knife just above your collarbone. He presses in hard, hard enough to draw blood.

The warm blood leaks down your chest, dripping down your stomach and your underwear. The slight sting makes you whine even more and rub your thighs together.

He releases your hands. “Run,” he whispers.

You don’t waste a second in obeying him. As soon as your feet are on the ground, you’re tearing away from him. You can hear him walking at a leisurely pace behind you, laughing mockingly. Something about him chasing you, cutting you…it’s overwhelming, it makes your head fuzzy with pleasure.

You run up the stairs, turning away as soon as your feet meet the plush carpet of the landing. You turn around, only to see that he’s gone. You suck in a breath. Where could he have gone?

Arms wrap around your waist, a knife pressed into your side. “Got you.”

You squeal, kicking against him. He’s much stronger than you, though. He pushes you against the wall, using it as leverage to lift you up.

You wrap your legs around his waist and let him carry you to your bedroom. He tosses you onto the bed, slamming the door behind him. You squirm, your sheets staining with the blood that dripped down your body while you ran.

You look up at him with those damned eyes, blinking slowly. His robe is stained with your blood, the knife in his hand slick with the red.

He crawls on top of you, yanking your underwear off and tossing them into the corner of the room. Your pussy is soaked as it is, but your blood has started to run into the juices, and the smell is fucking intoxicating.

He moves his face between your legs, the white mask looking up at you. You whimper and roll your hips against his face, staining the white with your red.

He tears off a strip of fabric from his robe and ties it around your eyes. “No looking,” he orders.

He tilts the mask up just enough so that his mouth and nose are out before licking up the blood from your thighs. You taste just as good as you smell, and it only makes him want more. He flicks his tongue across your opening and you whine, bucking your hips against his face.

He goes to work licking and sucking at your clit. He’s drunk from the taste of you, and all he wants is more. He presses the knife against your thigh, digging it in hard enough to draw blood. The pain in your thigh mixed with the pleasure in your core has you crying out, forcing you over the edge.

You finish hard, your slick coating his mouth and nose. He doesn’t stop, though. He keeps eating you out like you’re his last meal.

“P-please,” you whine.

“Please what?”

“Stretch me out, ruin me, just…please?”

Your breathless begging is so fucking cute that he can’t hold back anymore. He pulls the mask over his face again, laying on top of you. He pulls out a pair of plain metal handcuffs, and gets to work securing them around your wrists. He does it tightly enough that it digs into the skin and makes it impossible to escape, but not tight enough to be painful.

You struggle against the restraints, unable to see or feel him now. He shuffles against you awkwardly, pulling his cock out of his pants. He’s already rock hard, the tip coated in precum.

He lines up the head at your entrance and shoves his way inside. He’s so perfectly sized, always stretching you out perfectly. You whine, instinctively going to reach out for him before remembering the restraints on your wrists.

His thrusts are desperate and needy. All he wants, all he needs, is to bury himself inside of you. To fuck you like he needs to and absolutely ruin you.

“F-fuck,” you stutter out, forcing your hips against his to meet his thrusts.

His hands grip your waist tightly, his mouth hovering over your pulse point. He licks up the remaining blood from the cut on your collarbone, and the copper taste on his tongue only drives him to fuck you harder.

The way you're so wet for him, just from him cutting and fucking you. Hovering above you, fucking you like it's the last time, he's never felt more content. It's like the darkest parts in you pacify the darkest parts in him, and that's all he's ever needed.

You can feel yourself getting close, your muscles contracting with every deep thrust. You feel slightly lightheaded, but you’re not sure if it’s from your last orgasm or the blood loss.

Stu holds you closer, his body collapsing onto yours as his thrusts get sloppier. You know he won’t last much longer, either.

You squirm, bucking your hips to try and get him as deep as possible. He hits that sweet spot one more time and you come undone, your muscles spasming around him. Your pussy clenches around his cock and that’s all he needs to spill hot cum deep inside of you.

Your head rolls back, your body going limp. Stu pulls out, kneeling on top of you. “Think you can go another round?”

“C-can you?” You breathe heavily.

He reaches his hands around the back of your head to remove the blindfold. It takes a minute for your eyes to focus, fixating on the masked man above you.

“Not me,” he grabs your jaw in his hand and turns your head to the corner, where a man in an identical costume stands. “Him.”

“Him?”

The masked man steps forwards, slowly pulling the mask from his face. Billy Loomis is smiling at you like the devil, “hello, y/n.”

He pulls the mask back on, coming to rest on the bed next to Stu. Both of the Ghostface killers have their eyes fixated on your bound, writhing form on the bed.

“I think she can do one more,” Stu says.

“I think so too. I think she could take both of us.”

“B-both of you?”

Neither boy acknowledges you, too busy talking as if you’re not laying right in front of them. God, they’re going to be the death of you.

#ghostface x you #ghostface #ghostface smut #ghostface x reader #ghostface x female reader #stu macher ghostface #billy loomis #stu macher #stu macher x female reader #stu macher x you #stu macher x reader #Billy loomis ghostface #Billy Loomis x reader #scream x reader #scream smut #scream x you #scream #x you #x reader

968 notes · View notes

lxdymoon0357 · 1 year

Note

Can I request for a general dating headcannons with Father, I Don't Want This Marriage and The Villainess Is A Marionette (separately)

Thank you!!

(I did TVIAM in this this!)

The Villainess Is A Marionette X Reader HCs

Cayena Hill

♧ Wow!! You're dating her....you doing great in life, keep it up. She's quite a loving partner, as long as both you're or her life isn't danger, she loves to dance with you and talk with you.

♧ She often has Rezef get gifts for you, no matter whether you deny or accept them, she's going to get you anything and everything you want, on one condition, you never leave her side as her S/O, even if it gets you killed.

♧ Cayena for someone of her status really likes to do weird things, like sneak out to get flowers at 2:47 am at night because she wanted to know what they smelt like and you being you couldn't refuse her. You got caught easily, but once you told Rezef why you were sneaking the princess out, he immediately understood and let you go.

♧ You got the emperor's blessing for dating her easily, but Rezef wasn't so easy to crack, no matter what you did, he didn't like you until he saw you beat a guy up because he tried touching Cayena, you both became good friends after that. He's still scary in your opinion...

♧ She often has her hand entangled with yours, no matter where you go and if you let go of it, she starts sulking a bit and acting all sad and whimpy to get your attention back to her and considering her beauty, it's pretty easy.

♧ On the topic of her being pretty, she gets so much unwanted attention from men and jealous women alike and it really leaves her in a bad moon, so it's up-to you to protect her from creepy men who are wayyy older than her trying to hit her up or women trying to attack her gorgeous face because they're jealous, don't worry her attackers do get their punishment by Rezef, and you get awards by her kissing and cuddling you.

♧ I figured she would really like to go horse-back riding with you, she has a few horses whom she rides every week end very early in the morning, one named Sisili and one named Osci, both are you favorite and they're both just absolute darlings.

♧ She also loves going on picnics with you, and the food is all made by you both and for you both it tastes like heaven, with cakes, salads, tteokbokki, noodles, different types of meats and much much more!

Rezef Hill

☠ Wow, so you somehow pulled this psycho?? But he's hot, so it don't matter as much, now as I have stated before, either Rezef could be a total horny, sweetheart who loves to cuddle, kiss and cherish you or he could either be a horny, sadistic man who loves to fuck you while tears run down your face, no in between.

☠ Rezef often carried you around, no matter if you can walk, your legs are basically useless in Rezef's presence, but he does get tired himself and that is the only time he let's you go on your own two feet to walk.

☠ Oh, yeah. I remember that Rezef is a very possessive and obsessive person, so say bye bye to your personal space as he clings to you like his life depends on it, so he's a total koala.

☠ He's loves to cuddle with you in his lap while he does his paper-work, he doesn't care if anybody else is getting uncomfortable or jealous or annoyed cause he's comfortable and comfy with you on his lap and that's all that matters.

☠ He loves and I mean LOVES to kiss you, like after he wakes up, before he goes to sleep, between his works, in the middle of meetings, when he's jealous, when he wants to go for a bath, it don't matter because he loves to kiss you an 8 times out of 10, it ends up in a make-out session....

☠ Rezef is a very greedy person, not only in behavior for power, titles or respect, but also in your relationship, he wants you give him all of your affection and love and he will still never be bored of you, he will try hard to make you see that.

☠ Rezef is also very protective, he knows he has done wrong things and he is in no way, shape or form sorry for them, but he knows people will do anything for revenge, he is very protective and very gravely makes sure you're in completely safe hands.

☠ Rezef may not be able to spend a lot of time with you, but he tries his best to make up for it and when you both get into arguments, he may get violent, but he will very sincerely apologize for it and will do anything to earn your forgiveness.

☠ He buys you whatever you want whether it be jewelry, food, title, land, gifts, dresses/suits, servants, pets, perfumes, houses, books, whatever your desire may be, he will do his best to fulfil them.

Raffaelo Kedrey

✧ Raffaelo Kedrey is very scared of women, so it's very hard to maybe even earn his attention, but if still somehow manage, he will quite a sweetheart even from a huge distance you both need for his phobia.

✧ Raphael very much enjoys to spend time with you, whether it be you reading stories to each-other, one chapter read by you, the second will be read by him, then third by you and so on, you both sitting on the bed, a few inches apart and reading while he leans over to read alongside you.

✧ Raphael will very much enjoy sending letters to you, because well his mother's controlling tendencies will probably stop him from talking with you, but since everyone in the manor basically hates her, so nobody really cares of her order to stop Raphael from sending any letters out.

✧ He is also very much into impressing, he will do whatever you want him to, if it impresses you, he has taken up a few things because you said you find people who are able to do them very impressive and amazing people.

✧ You both very often goes horse-riding to go into the forest for bird-watching or to see animals in their natural habitat or to take time to spend with each-other, but he is very strict with the fact of your safety in the forest.

✧ you both also do something where you both send each-other letters as the person you both wish to be and as you both continue to send the letters it will turn into a story, maybe like story telling but with each other and letters <3

✧ On topic of love, jealousy goes hand in hand, he may unfazed, but on the inside he is probably planning on killing the person next to you, depends on how much he knows the person the worst punishments he plans for them.

✧ His love language just might be feeding you favourite foods, he doesn't care how extravagant or how cheap the dish is, if you're craving it it's going to be present in front of you!

✧ Overall, he's a good boi, he will very much bring you back to your home at designated time <3

#navi⌗writes⌗#the villainess is a marionette x reader #the villainess is a marionette #cayena hill x reader #rezef hill #cayena hill #raffaelo kedrey #manhwa x reader #manhwa headcanons #manhwa fanfic #character x reader #x reader #the villainess is a marionette headcanons #yandere! the villainess is a marionette x reader #the villainess is a marionette fanfics

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devoureddreaa · 2 months

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diary of a mad black woman

i’m totally not projecting in this /hj. buuuuuut, i love love love the movie: diary of a mad black woman. probably the best piece of fiction tyler perry has created. but, i hope you enjooooy!!

cw: toji is an asshole (mb…), you’re gonna be kind of a bitch too if you squint, relationship issues, infidelity issues (on both sides), an established relationship coming to an end, you’re not getting back with him….. (sorry not sorry), uhh y/n is black woman coded (hii ting at the title). lemme know if i forgot anything !!!!

five long, draining years.

five years ago..you married toji right after you two graduated. don’t worry, your clan didn’t sell you. marrying toji is what you wanted to do. only god knew how bad of a decision you were

toji fushiguro, had his owns dreams and aspirations. ones that most possibly didn’t involve you whatsoever, but you forced yourself into them. the first year was just fine, it was like you were laying on cloud nine.

that was until you were pushed off that cloud.

he moved you away from your home. he wanted to “forget about the past” he said, and leave everything behind. and that included your own family..you didn’t know how long it had been since you last heard their voices. now you were isolated, and that only made things worse cause toji knew what sort of power he had over you now.

you did anything in your power to stay in his vision. whether that was dealing with his manipulative behavior, or even his infidelity..you sticked around.

cause you loved him??

or cause you didn’t have anyone else to go to?

weird, cause then you got kicked out of your own home and he got a divorce. he packed all your shit in a truck and replaced you for some hooker. bet enough booger sugar and lube got her to stay. you drove that truck back over to your grandmothers house…who almost shot you since it was the middle of the night. you got over it after a few months. got a job, made friends, reconnected with family..even your mother, and maybe even found some newfound love.

that’s until toji got injured and he was temporarily paralyzed. the hooker he wanted so badly wanted to leave him for dead, but you..were still legally his wife. so you made the last call.

to keep him alive.

as you sat there, thinking about picking up the pieces of what used to be your life..you realized something. every room in this place that you used to call home held a painful memory for you. even though toji’s suffering…something in you wants him to suffer even more. few months in a divorce can take a person through just as many emotions as five years in a marriage. oh, and you’re starting to feel all of them at once.

but the one that is clear…is rage.

now here you were, in your old home, in the office looking for old bill files for him. while he sat in his wheelchair…quietly.

shuffling through the stake of papers, you started to shake your head. “i don’t see it..”

toji’s head perked up, “you don’t see it?” he repeated, in somewhat of a mocking tone..

“no.”

he scoffed, “you really are good for nothing.” here he goes again. “find my bank statement and get the accountant on the phone.”

you looked up from the stack of papers and looked up at him. into those dead cold eyes, those eyes that used to give you so much love..but now…they just give you a whole lotta hurt.

“then call somebody, anybody and you can leave.” toji motioned down to the wheelchair he was sitting it. “this, is not gonna beat me.”

“oh really?” you’re tone was cold, ice cold. you were watching a grown man, that was fully capable of finding his own bank statements, throw a fit cause you couldn’t find it.

his legs were paralyzed, not his fucking arms.

“yea, and whatchu staring at?”

“you get stabbed in the spine, and you’re still the same.”

“i am who i am, and im gonna die that way. toots.” toji gave you a dirty, damn near disgusting look as he looked you up and down. “i don’t even know why you’re here, i’m not givin’ you shit. matter fact, where are my kids?”

“you done, toji?”

“yknow what bitch, just get out.”

you could feel your jaw clenched up when he said that.

he pinched the bridge of his nose, “i ask you to do one simple thing, and you can even do that after five— get out!”

you dropped the papers that were in your hands, you got up from the rather comfortable leather seat. grabbed your things from off the desk and proceeded to take your exit back home quietly.

but then you stopped.

who the hell is he? the man who hasn’t dont anything but hurt you. and now…you were about to let him keep doing exactly that? keep letting him control you like some toy. nah…that ain’t gon slide. before you could even think about it, your arm swung forward then swung back..the back of your hand connecting with toji’s face.

you turned yourself back around and leaned down to face him, placing your hands on the arm rest of the wheelchair..practically caging him in.

“let me explain something to you.” your tone of voice was sick, nasty. it was damn near like you were spitting pure vemon. “old y/n..is gone. and you will not talk to me like that.”

“now i came here..to help you. but now, i’m here to get even.”

“y/n, you—”

“shut up!” your yell echoed through the quiet home, the rain outside just barely being able to heard over it.

“you want your whore..” you walked over and grabbed the picture of toji and his little hooker..that was framed in a pretty little frame. “and your damn kids?”

you raised your arms up and threw the picture onto the ground, shattering the frame. “do you see what you left me for?!” you bend down and quickly picked up the picture, shoving it in toji’s face.

“this..is what you left me for!”

you started to rip the picture to shreds right in front of him, letting the loose parts fall to the floor. “she didn’t give a damn ‘bout you toji, she told them to let you die.!”

you walked back over by the desk, using your arms to sweep the top of it clean..everything falling on the floor, some of it even breaking.

“and yknow what’s funny? hm?” a condescending smile grew on your face. “i fucking gave you life boy, even though you took it from me.”

you’ve never seen toji so quiet and still before for how long you’ve known, but oh, that didn’t mean you were about to let up. you grabbed a play bat that was sitting on the floor..

“ya kids..your boys.” you swung the plastic bat and hit toji in the head. “i wanted children toji! and had you not been a public sex-stop, we would have them!”

you backed away and anger started to consume you. it showed in your face, your body movement, even in the way your heart was racing. you didn’t know if this felt good or not..

“got me all stressed out, my hair fallin’ out, my weight up ‘n down, can’t keep anything down! two miscarriages! you took life from me, and you never even said ‘i’m sorry’..”

was that it? the end of your rant.

hell nah, you walked out of that office. and you let toji sit there alone for a few days. when you can back it smelt rancid.

“god..” you groaned and covered your nose. walking up behind him. “ya smell like shit.”

you grabbed the handle bars and started to walk, then you started to run towards the bathroom.

“y/n. hell are doing?” toji asked, a bit afraid (that’s a new one.)

you ignored his concerns, barging through the bathroom doors to reveal a tub filled with water and a little bit of bubbles.

“y/n, stop—!”

the wheelchair hit the edge and toji was flipped over into the water. you pushed the wheelchair back and watched him, in silence for a bit.

“bathe him, feed him, clothe him..they say.” you say on the edge of the bathtub just watching him. “what bout me, huh? and jesus, stop lookin’ like an idiot.”

you begin to light a cigarette while toji just laid in the slightly cold water. “you try and..kick me out of our house, and keep me away from our money? hell nah. fuck nah, at that.”

you looked back over to see that toji’s head was started to submerge under the water. you quickly got up, dropped your cigarette in the water, and practically dragged toji back up to the surface.

“remember toji, i was there..when all you had was me.”

you stepped out of the tub and left him there.

later, you both sat at the oddly long dinner table. you on one side, and toji on the other. weird thing was you had a plate with a salad on it, and toji? he didn’t have a thing in front of him.

meanwhile, you were eating like it was the best salad you had ever had.

suddenly, toji had..started to cry? “y/n..”

your eyes perked up, “awe, you hungry?”

maybe he was. but who fucking cared? “hm..maybe you should go into the kitchen and get yourself something to eat then hm?” the smile on your face was brutal

“christina..” toji quietly cried out.

you looked over your shoulder, confused. “christina?!” you looked back over at the pitiful man in front of you..trying to hold back to boiling laughter. “christina’s gone…”

you smiled wildly, “your little tramp didn’t have any money to her so she left.” looking back down at your plate using your fork to pick up for more food. “just like your slut.”

“she packed all her shit, and some of yours toji fushiguro..and went on her merry way.” you started to laugh. “come to think of it..she cleaned out your bank account. all of it!”

“oh, sweetheart, you tried to keep from me? and she ended up taking it all..huh?!” you started to laugh even harder, throwing your head back and slamming your fist on to the table.

this was even better then therapy.

“toji..you are like soooo many men.” you paused to get a good look at him. “you’d rather lay with dogs then make it work with a women.”

“you’re a bitch ass, toji..a coward.”

you forcefully pushed your plate of food, sending it flying across the table towards toji. it ended up landing on his lap and some fell onto the floor. but you sure as hell weren’t gonna pick it up, you got up and went upstairs to go to sleep.

toji ended up getting better, and you let all your anger out on him..later forgiving him. you took that divorce as a blessing, the thing you used to see as curse. he still loved you, but you didn’t love him the same. you didn’t want to be back with him. pain can hurt someone, but it won’t change anybody; and toji is a perfect example of that.

but you? oh you knew better. and anyone that would cross you in the future would learn that.

signed,

a mad black woman.

did it well…and did it good. PLSASE WATXH HIS MOVIE, I LOVE IT!!! anywho coming with the content..smash that like button for more bangers!!! /lhj but, hope you enjoyed!! love you baaaaaaai (if you saw any typos..not you didn’t)

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probably-writing-x · 1 year

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This Too Shall Pass

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: You and Rafe didn’t work anymore, you’d tried and you’d failed. But it was a tough pill to swallow when you were sure this was forever.

Warnings: Just a whole lot of angst my loves

Author’s Note: This is way too sad, I’m so sorry

Not my gif

Rafe knew how it felt to lose things, to lose people. He knew the feeling, he knew how to suppress it until it eventually went away. It wasn’t that he knew how to properly cope with loss, but he knew how to avoid coping. Whether it was drink, drugs, or girls, he knew how to avoid dealing with things. This time felt like an exception. This time, he’d lost you.

The two of you had been dating on and off for two years since school. You’d argue and split up, bicker and decide you weren’t good for each other, but everyone knew that you always went back to each other. You forgave him, and that was something he didn’t get from anybody else but you. But this time was too far, in the past few months he had become a completely different person - he was chasing a high that he wouldn’t find, getting into fights, threatening the Pogues. It was spiralling and it didn’t seem to stop.

And you just couldn’t do it anymore. You’d tried, anybody could see that you’d tried. You’d opened the door to him after he’d disappeared for a week without contacting you, you’d given him a place to stay when he didn’t want to be at home, and you’d cleaned up his wounds after a fight with the Pogues. You’d done it all. But it got to a point, a breaking point. And you couldn’t do it anymore. You couldn’t keep being his safety net. So, you’d ended it.

That was a month ago now, and to say you had found it easy would be an understatement. Your friends had rallied around you, Sarah bringing you ice cream and telling you that her brother didn’t deserve you. You’d done all you could to avoid him on the island, not going to parties and shutting yourself off from the friends you used to share with your boyfriend. Anything to avoid him, right?

But Sarah had called you over to hers tonight, saying it was an emergency, and for some reason it felt like a welcome home to be going back to the house you’d spent so many nights at.

You knock on the door and step back, waiting anxiously for the house to open up.

“(Y/N)?” It’s Wheezie on the other side of the door, “What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” You smile, having missed seeing the girl that you treated like your own sister, “Sarah asked me to come over, she said it was urgent.”

She frowns at you, “Sarah’s at John B’s. She hasn’t been here since yesterday.”

A lump forms in your throat almost instantly, like the pieces of a puzzle clicking together. And the last piece falls into place as soon as you see the body stood behind Wheezie, just coming down from the stairs. Your breath catches in your throat.

“I should go,” You force out, clenching your fists at your side to ground yourself back to the moment, trying to convince your legs to turn and get you as far away from the house as possible.

“(Y/N) please don’t,” Rafe breaks straight through to you, “Just stay.”

You’d listened to him so many times before when he told you to stay, and you weren’t sure that this time would be any different. Your eyes focus on him, taking in his form. He looks like he’s lost weight, his face looking like it has been drained of his normal energy. You’re so focused on him that you don’t realise Wheezie has left, leaving just the two of you and far too much space between.

“Can you just come in? Please?” His eyes are pleading with you more than his words do.

You find yourself obliging, stepping through the threshold and into the house. He closes the door behind you as if he’s still terrified that you could leave at any second.

~~~

You’re both in one of the multiple lounges in this house. You’re sat down on the sofa, arms crossed over your thighs like you need to close yourself off from him. Rafe is stood across the way from you, pacing back and forth across the width of the room every so often.

“How have you been?” He asks eventually, breaking the silence as if the question had been calculating in his head ever since you’d got here.

You swallow the lump in your throat, “I’ve been okay, just keeping busy I guess. You?”

He goes to respond stops himself, trying at it once more before eventually saying, “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, (Y/N).”

“Rafe…”

“No, I’m serious. I’m not just saying it,” He shakes his head, “I’m not sleeping, I’m not eating, I’ve been getting drunk every night, nothing helps.”

“Rafe don’t tell me that, what do you want me to do?”

“Tell me how to fix it!” He raises his voice and you know he regrets it instantly, watching as you flinch at his words.

He falls silent again.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. We’ve broken up. And that’s as hard as me as it is on you, but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re not together anymore,” You explain, slow in your words so that it drains all emotion away from them, “We need to learn to live without each other.”

“I don’t want to do that, (Y/N), I don’t want to live without you.”

You’re quiet, mainly because no words are good enough for this.

When you look up at him, Rafe’s eyes are brimming with tears, his lips piercing together to stop himself from completely breaking. He brings a hand up over his chin and you notice him still wearing the ring you had bought him for his birthday last year.

It breaks you. In that moment, it feels like you truly break. You were looking at a person your heart still knew that you loved, but your head was too far gone to go back to. A boy that had held your love for so long, and you had slowly been convincing yourself to let go of. A boy that knew you better than anyone, and you now had to come to terms with not knowing at all.

“Just tell me what I can do, (Y/N),” He whispers through his voice breaking, choking through a sob that he doesn’t want to release.

You’re crying too now, tears flooding down your cheeks like a reflex you were now desensitised to completely.

It draws you to each other, both hearts inevitably yearning for the other beyond what any rationality could give.

Rafe comes over to you and sits down on the couch, close to you so that your knee bumps his, he reaches out and takes one of your hands in both of his, leaning forward until your foreheads touch.

“I never wanted to lose you,” He mumbles, tears wetting his cheeks and rolling down to his lips, “With everything that was going on, the last thing I wanted to happen was this.”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat once again, your breath trembling when it releases.

Not a single part of you wants to pull away from him, or leave, or get out and never see him again. So you just stay like that - both taking in every piece of contact between you two that you’d been craving since you’d left.

But there’s a more rational side to you now, that you seemed to have lost when the two of you were together. Your head managed to overwhelm your heart now.

“I need to go, Rafe,” You whisper the words, worried they’ll slice too harshly if you speak them any louder.

He shakes his head, “No.” He chokes the word like it pains him to even think of it, “Please don’t leave.”

“We can’t do this again,” You reach up a hand and brush his hair away from his forehead, dragging your fingers through the shorter hairs at the side.

He leans his head into your touch, wanting to pocket every piece of it now he knows it’s temporary, “How do I do this without you?”

You smile a little, trying to soften the moment, “You’re Rafe Cameron, I don’t think there’s a lot you can’t do.”

Rafe turns his head fully to the side and kisses your palm, his lips lingering over there for a moment, longing him to kiss his way back to you.

“Is this it?”

You shake your head quickly, knowing deep down that the idea of forever away from him would always seem impossible, knowing that there was too much between you to ever fully say goodbye to, he’d always inevitably be your end, and so you say;

“It’ll pass.”

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lovelytsunoda · 1 year

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lucky people // mick schumacher

summary: the adventures of bookworm-youtuber y/n and her adorable f1 driver boyfriend mick

(shameless little plug for my own underused and somewhat forgotten about book-blr @/ cheerful-chamomile-pages)

dedicated to @flannel-cures and @paddockbunny who helped me make the final decision on whether this would be about mick or charles : )

i can see them meeting through gina (best friends brother trope anybody)

she was already decently popular on the bookworm side of youtube without mick, but once she was spotted attending a few events on the german's arm, she instantly became more interesting to a whole different crowd

obviously she's trying to keep her hobby (and almost possibly maybe side hustle) and her love life apart, but they truly are the cutest couple on the internet

she's sitting in her cute little library corner , streaming her new video live for some of her subscribers before she edits it and posts it properly to youtube.

"so i hate calling it a tbr because that just adds so much pressure and the way college is going for me right now guys, i genuinely have no idea if i will make it through all of these."

"so the first one is 'as good as dead' by holly jackson. i've been working my way through this series for a while and i finally bought this one a few months ago but life got busy and i just didn't get around to it but im really excited. this one is the grand conclusion to the good girls guide to murder trilogy and i can't wait to read about pip and ravi one last time."

and cue angie bounding into the room, cutting in front of the camera and knocking the book out of her hands as she pounces on y/n

mick is laughing in the background, super self conscious about appearing on the camera.

the chat goes MENTAL

"is that angie? does this mean mick is home?" "show mick!"

"mick," she says with a laugh, scratching angie behind the ears and looking up at the driver. "the fans want to see you."

"is that okay?" mick asks before moving further into the room, passing her the mug of hot chocolate that he had been planning on just leaving on the IKEA end table

"of course." she moves over on the carpet to make more room. "you can hold my stack of books."

"oh, great." he jokes as she passes him the stack, pressing a kiss to his cheek

"this is my boyfriend, mick. he's an angel on earth and he's going to help me film the rest of this."

cue mick shyly waving at the camera as y/n grabs one of the books from the top of the stack

"you already know that i will read anything that lauren asher writes. i have one book left in the dirty air series that i still need to finish, and this one is all about santiago, who was introduced as noah's teammate and mayas brother in the beginning of the series. i truly don't want this series to end, but this book includes grumpy x sunshine and fake dating, so im very excited to see what santi and chloe bring to the dirty air universe."

and mick is just watching her with this completely lovestruck expression

the chat goes MENTAL talking about how cute the couple is and how they all wish they had a mick (me too besties)

he's definitely present in the next video, entitled "my boyfriend and i go book shopping"

which is more like y/n just dragging mick around barnes and noble while she prepares to buy more books than she could afford (especially since she already has so many books at home)

mick is helping her look, trying to pick up books he thinks she'd like or has heard her talk about before

"babe, this book is basically porn. there's literally a half dressed cop on the front cover."

"i would have thought that the fact that it's called 'frisk me' would have given it away. the second one is worse, it's called 'cuff me'."

"i worry for your mental state sometimes, schatzi."

"what else am i supposed to do while you're gone, baby?"

that line was edited out of the final version

like the gentleman that he is, mick pays for all of the books

*cue the entire comment section swooning*

they do one video called "my boyfriend guesses the plot of my books based solely on the contents of the front cover"

"uhm im gonna take a wild guess and say that one's about death of some kind. maybe a murder?"

"that one's porn. one hundred percent. there's a fully shirtless man with a smolder and bad tattoos on the front cover. wait, there's a formula one car as well? oh dear god, this isn't what your version looks like!"

"because i bought the special editions with the pretty covers, baby. and this one does have a plot. this one made me cry, and you had to hold me for like an hour and a half while i recovered."

he definitely bought her a copy of her favorite romance book for their anniversary and went through and annotated it

paying special attention to all of the smutty parts that he wants to recreate

buddy reads with mick where they read the same book and then film a video where they both review it

the cutest couple on bookstagram

BONUS MATERIAL:

#mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher #f1 headcanons #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #mick schumacher headcanons #f1 x you #lucky people

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mllemaenad · 3 months

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The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes

Okay, well, it sounds very much as though "Freddy" is tattling on Sam. Might not be, of course: once you've assigned a personality to something you head straight down the path of attributing meaning and motive to all its actions. And in the case of Freddy, there might be no intelligence behind it, one intelligence with many voices behind it, or many intelligences with potentially competing motives behind it. Depending on which of those it is, you get a different picture of why it does what it does.

It alerts Alice that Sam has been poking around "The Magnus Protocol". It shouldn't have alerted Alice; it sounds as though Colin was the intended recipient, although it would make sense for it to go to Lena as well. It suggests that it did not want official action taken against him for looking – whatever that might mean – but that it did want someone to know what he was doing.

It's fairly easy to predict that Alice, upon receiving such an alert, will tell Sam to knock it off but not actually take any action against him. The recording Gwen hears at the end of the episode suggests (although does not confirm) that things can in fact go very, very wrong in this job – so this may constitute a protective gesture. On the other hand, if the greatest risk were to just be getting fired, well then that might be for the best.

It's a weird alert, though.

Alice I just received a security notification. Sam About me? Alice Someone was trying to access restricted files. And my money is on you. – The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes

What do you mean, "someone" is trying to access restricted files? No user ID? Or username? Or even a device ID? What the hell sort of security alert is that? If you were a manager, and you received that, you'd have to go on a witch hunt. Depending on how you look at it, it's either a terrible alert tailored to produce a stressful working experience ... or a whisper that might be meaningful to Alice, and no one else.

The arrival of the third voice, "Augustus" is interesting because he is a complete unknown. To be clear, I'm aware that the prevailing theory is that this is Jonah Magnus. I'm not especially here to dispute that; not at the moment. The man's first name starts with a "J", which fits nicely with ".jmj error" and, well, the name Magnus is right there in the title, which suggests it's at least to some degree relevant. It's as good a theory as any, and while you can absolutely throw out other possible names there's not enough detail yet to prove anything.

But what is interesting is the implication if that is Jonah Magnus. If the voices originated in this world then they might be anybody, of course. No way to tell. But if they came from another world, it suggests that something more than just voices came through. Because, to my knowledge, that voice was never recorded.

It makes sense that you'd hear John's voice leaking between worlds – he's on virtually all the tapes. It makes reasonable sense that you'd hear Martin's: he was on quite a lot. You might also expect "Elias Bouchard", or Basira or Tim or even Gertrude – because if it's just voices then whether they're alive or dead or even confirmed still hanging about in another dimension shouldn't matter. But if it is Magnus, then something came through that wasn't recorded: the voice of an earlier body, or even his original one. Some internal sense of "this is how I sound" that differs from anything recorded on the tapes.

And if it isn't him? Well, all of the above still applies, with the added question of "Who is it, then?"

If it is him – and I will speak as such for now because there's not yet enough thread to follow if it isn't – then his story choice is interesting.

Alice Dear grandpa Augustus does always tell such lovely stories. – The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes

Alice implies that Augustus's stories are somehow worse than Norris's and Chester's – she didn't remark on any of theirs in quite the same way, except to call Norris's first one "tame". I don't know what metric she's using: they all seem pretty ghoulish. But this story does address a different perspective.

It's a tale of resentment and entitlement. Of someone who was special, but not quite special enough for his own liking – and who fed his soul to something monstrous to increase his own standing. His father seems to have a seat in the House of Lords, and all the wealth and standing that would accompany that position. The letter writer, however, is a bastard: an acknowledged bastard, apparently, whose father has provided for him, but nevertheless a bastard set apart from the legitimate children of the household.

He's also very concerned that people aren't appreciating his talents.

Augustus/Violinist My violin tutor, one Oliver Bardwell by name, nursed a conviction that this honor was purely the fruit of his own skills as an instructor, rather than a product of my talent and endeavor. ... My course was set for Mannheim, a destination where I felt a youthful certainty that my brilliance would at last be acknowledged. – The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes

This fits very well with Jonah Magnus, who very much played second fiddle, so to speak, in the story that had his name on it. On a meta level: he was the villain of the piece, the one who pretty well had to fall and fail in order for the narrative to reach its conclusion. But even in-universe it's highlighted that he's just ... not that special:

Archivist Right. When I said that I would ‘replace’ Jonah in there, that’s not– That place, the centre of The Eye, i-it’s… It wasn’t made for him. That’s why he’s like that, it’s too much, it’s overwhelmed him, his whole being, just destroyed. Martin Oh yeah? But let me guess, it was made for you? Archivist Yes. – The Magnus Archives: Parting

It's got to be galling: Magnus built an institute and served his god for literal centuries, and eventually remade the world under its power. But does the Eye want him? No, no it does not. It wants the grumpy archivist who does not want to be here at all, and who is in fact actively plotting to kill it. Jonah Magnus is the Eye's acknowledged, but displaced, bastard son.

It's also implied that a sense of ... hm ... aristocratic entitlement, let's say, played a part in the selection of his hosts:

Archivist Elias’ stomach tightened at the memory, the fierce judgement in his father’s eyes. Even laid out in a casket, it was as if he had looked at Elias with disdain. What should he say? That he had no idea why he wanted this job? That he was all alone in the world, no friends, no family, nothing but the deep certainty that he deserved better. That he was destined to be important. That it was in his blood. – The Magnus Archives: A Stern Look

And it is hard not to notice, at this point, that Augustus picked Gwen to hear this tale.

The violinist is "gifted" an instrument by a dubious merchant type reminiscent of Mikaele Salesa (the man was right – the peddler of magical artefacts is indeed a folktale staple), and it did make him a bit more special ... but never, ever quite special enough:

Augustus/Violinist And yet, while admiration rained down upon me, never was I elevated beyond the confines of my origins. The rarefied world of my noble patrons was closed to me. Modest riches adorned me, some small fame clung to my name, but never was I truly allowed to escape the position of my birth. – The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes

It is also very much the story of a man who learned how to hurt other people for his own gain:

Augustus/Violinist It was not simple philanthropy that led to my taking on positions of tutelage in those bustling cities where I plied my trade, providing a musical education to the poor and the easily forgotten, asking nothing in return. Nothing except the occasional student who would not be missed. – The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes

That's almost exactly how Magnus operated: employing people who would not be missed and then using them up to serve his own ends. Like Magnus, the violinist feeds people to his malevolent god.

And, not least, there are the sinister implications of the letter itself. The recipient is a "nephew", meaning he is almost certainly the child of one of the violinist's legitimate half-siblings: people he dismisses as "useless". He was not close with the nephew, so his inheritance may be something of a surprise.

Which leads to this:

Augustus/Violinist There has been a great deal of rain here this last fortnight, which has been strangely pleasing to my maudlin mood, and has brought with it some nostalgia for that dreary summer you took residence with me. I flatter myself to think that I might have imprinted upon you some part of myself in that time together, and perhaps in this way I seek to keep hold of my prized violin still. – The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes

Right. So, yeah, the kid is definitely screwed. For all we know, the violinist lives still.

If Norris's stories are of loss and regret, and Chester's could be called a warning, Augustus's is both an enticement and a trap.

Go on. Play the cursed violin. Feed it blood. What could possibly go wrong?

But you have to wonder, then: why would Magnus tell a story that so neatly reflects what an awful person he was?

We also establish, outside the main story, that Gwen is definitely the kind of person to open weird attachments in her work email. When the OIAR gets hit with a ransomware attack, we'll all know who to blame.

It's hard to state anything definitive about what she heard. I mean – yes, it sounds bad, but, well, Gertrude Robinson once dismembered a man and threw him down a cursed pit. I'm not going to sit here and try to claim Gertrude was nice, but she was very much on the side of the world not ending. What any of this means all hinges on who the guy Lena was talking to was.

And, of course, this one is littered with world-building notes to put aside for later: "Starkwall", "The San Pedro Square Massacre", "The Protocol". Little you can do with any of them immediately.

But ... just for a thought exercise, say it is Jonah Magnus talking.

A protocol can be a lot of things. It may be rules to be followed in a formal occasion. It may be instructions in the event of an emergency. And there are also network protocols, which are about the transfer of information. I suspect in this case it has a double meaning, as Archives did. So it is something practical ... and also something else.

The word is then uttered for the first time in the episode where Magnus first speaks. It is immediately followed by a tale in which a man transfers an instrument – and I think more importantly the music that instrument produced – to someone new, and in doing so hopes to transfer some or all of himself.

The thing is. I'm not going to call Magnus's master plan "bloody stupid" but ... well, let's just say it had some obvious holes. I mean, really. He spent literal years specifically torturing this one guy, then used him very much against his will to end the world, and then just ... let him wander around, being annoyed about that. Obviously John had some moral qualms about the whole apocalypse situation, but even had he not – pretty well anybody would probably put "ruin Jonah's day" quite near the top of their to do list, under the circumstances.

It would hardly take a genius to foresee some retaliation. And self preservation is Magnus's whole deal. It's the reason he gives for destroying the world:

Archivist/Jonah Magnus I began to worry that if one of them successfully attempted their ritual, then I would be as much a victim as any, trapped in the nightmare landscape of a twisted world. At first, I attempted prevention, but the cause seemed hopeless. The only way to ensure I did not suffer the tribulations of what I believed to be an inevitable transformation was to bring it about myself. So what began as an experiment soon became a race. Beyond that, I was getting older, and mortality began to weigh more heavily on my mind. How much in this world is done because we fear death, the last and greatest terror? – The Magnus Archives: The Eye Opens

The apocalypse is just him getting everyone else before they could get him. And I have wondered, a bit, about Magnus's attitude in Last Words:

Archivist It’s over. Jonah/Elias Is it? [sigh] Yes. Yes, I suppose it must be. [TIRED EXHALATION] Where’s Martin? I rather thought he’d be the one to do the deed. … [METALLIC CLINK] Ah, I see. Going it alone, are we? Probably for the best. Empathy only holds you back in the end. Archivist You’ve failed. Jonah/Elias Have I? Archivist Immortality. It’s impossible. Even without me, nothing escapes entropy. Not forever. Not even fear. Jonah/Elias Yes… Pity. I suppose I always knew that, deep down. But it was wonderful while it lasted. I’ve seen more than I could have lived in a thousand lifetimes, and every moment was so – – The Magnus Archives: Last Words

That's all very odd, really. He thought Martin would kill him? In fact, he once bet quite heavily that Martin would not kill him. Of course, he hadn't ruined the whole world at that point, which is a thing that might well adjust a man's attitude to murder. So he thought Martin would come here, and kill him?

He was not especially surprised to see John standing over him with a knife. He seemed mostly bemused at the idea that he had failed, although he did agree that this thing, in which he bathed in the misery of others, was indeed over. There was some begging and screaming, of course, but he put up very little resistance – even though this was a straightforward physical assault. None of John's overwhelming psychic powers here, just a man who never showed much inclination toward violence taking his very first stab, so to speak, at knifing someone to death.

It seems peculiar, that a man who would do literally anything to stay alive – who betrayed his friends, who stole the lives of others, who doomed the whole world – would not have a plan in place to escape the very obvious enemy who was almost certainly going to come after him.

Unless, of course, he did have a plan. And we're listening to it.

#the magnus protocol #the magnus protocol spoilers #the magnus archives

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f1-giuki · 24 days

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ooohhh, could you write a blurb for lestappen (fluff) with saturn from sza pretty please? <3

Hi sweet sweet darling💖💖💖💖💖💖 tbf I have never listened to sza before but boy was I missing out!!! the song catches you over time and as I was writing I got very into it!!!! so here's your drabble!!!! hope you like it💖💖

saturn - prompt post

“I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s so fucking blue!” Charles mumbles, looking at the small round window in their compartment.

“That’s home, Charlie!” George mumbles, floating around upside down.

The International Space Station is a long and narrow corridor of high tech, full of strange machines and plants. And it’s Charles’ lifelong dream and mission, to spend at least a month up there. He’s up there, now, alongside a strangely young crew of other five astronauts, all friends and fighter jet mates.

This whole space obsession began when Charles was four, on the balcony of his best friend’s house, watching the Monaco Grand Prix, in the streets of his city. He dreamt of driving one of those red spaceships across the sky, and maybe meeting someone else, an alien or a fellow space pilot. Charles still laughs when he thinks about how his mother was afraid that her son would end up racing at more than 300 kph every Sunday. She got him travelling at twice the speed of sound in the sky. She wasn’t that happy about it, but Charles got to fulfil his gay Top Gun meets Star Trek fantasy.

The journey from Kazakhstan was a good three hours of hell and noise, but Charles was lucky to arrive smoothly, not explode during take-off, and not have anything to do for the first two hours of his arrival. That’s why he has colonised the window over the Earth and has no intention to leave it to anybody else for the next few hours, unless Daniil, his Russian mission mate asks to watch, then he’ll have to be a good person.

“Has he already claimed the window as his?” A voice asks.

“Max!” Charles shouts, sharply turning around and ending up against the other side of the compartment, smashing against some equipment with his head.

Max laughs and gracefully floats next to him, rolling his eyes and opening his arms. Charles snuggles inside of them, hugging tight Max. The last time he saw him, it was at mission camp back in Baikonur, three months ago, when Max left for his eight-month mission, bringing up in space a little replica of Schumacher’s 2002 F1 Ferrari and giving him a bruising kiss before leaving.

“Sorry I wasn’t there for the docking, baby, Robert saw something on the sensors and I had to do a fun spacewalk to fix something,” Max mumbles, kissing Charles on the head. They’re slowly tilting to the right as they hug, and Charles wants to laugh. He’s in space with his boyfriend, what is up and what is down doesn’t matter anymore to him, those are just smoky layers of debris nearby, he doesn’t care right now, what he wants is blue. The blue of the Earth and the blue of Max’s eyes.

“Bodily fluids tend to float around in here…” Logan whistles, making Daniil laugh.

Max rolls his eyes and smiles as he hears the rumble of Charles’ laugh against his chest.

“Wanna make out in front of the panoramic view?” Max asks and Charles nods, enjoying how Max’s warm hands guide him to the window.

Charles inhales against the soft and salty skin of Max’s neck and he thinks of home. Whether in a small flat in Paris, a giant home in Florida, up in space or even on the rings of Saturn, Charles thinks that with Max by his side, everywhere would feel like home, so he kisses Max to cement his discovery. A small step.

“Say cheese!” Logan says as he takes a picture with an old instant camera and prints out a photograph of Max and Charles kissing in front of the Earth.

#lestappen #lestappen fic #lestappen fanfic #ao3 #charles leclerc fanfic #max verstappen fanfic #f1 rpf

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snonkerdoodlewritesstuff · 26 days

Text

Hey.

I'm not gonna ask how you are, because I know how you are. At least, I think I do. I don't know if I want myself to be true.

When you...left...I'm not sure whether left is the right word, actually. The horror of what happened...the horror of what you did to me...is something that can't be described with words. My soul was ripped apart. My heart shattered into a million pieces. My soul was wounded. My life ended when you went away from me.

And...even after all of that...I hope you're okay, my love. I really do. You...I don't think you could help it. If only we talked to each other. If only we worked things out before IT happened...maybe this wouldn't've been such a bad thing.

At any rate, I want to tell you something. Something that I never told you before, and now definitely won't ever get the chance to.

I loved you. When you would smile the way you did in the sun and we would sneak off together to do things we should'nt've been doing, I loved you. When you would marvel at little things like flowers and hummingbirds and nightingales, I loved you. I've always loved you, from the moment I met you.

I love you. I love you, even now that you're gone, even now that I'm nothing but a pile of broken pieces and memories. I love you, even though they all dragged you away from me, so that I could never embrace you again, and never have the chance to call you mind. Even after all that, I still love you.

I will always love you. Even though I'll never see you again--not for a long while, at the least--I will always love you. There doesn't seem to be anybody else for me, because my heart was yours the moment I set eyes on you. It's always you, my love. Always you...

And lastly, I will miss you. I will miss the way you were a fucking diva all the time. I'll miss the way you were so rude to anyone who crossed you. I'll miss your smiles, the way you saw the world, the way...the way you looked when you were happy, or sad, or anything really. You're fucking beautiful, sweetheart.

This letter can be read from 3 perspectives:

Crowley to Aziraphale after Good Omens season 2.

John Watson to Sherlock Holmes after Sherlock season 2. 🧐

Blade Ranger to Nick Loopin' Lopez after the crash.

There are 3 more lines to add as well for each:

He let out a sigh laden with a thousand years' worth of exhaustion and

took a look around the bookshop--his bookshop now, that Aziraphale had found it in him to abandon it. He didn't know why he stayed, given the pain it caused him, but leaving would somehow make it worse. Sinking low into the cushions of the couch, he took a swig from his bottle.

sank back into the chair, facing the other one that should've been filled with a lanky man and his stupid curly hair and stupid angelic face. His vision blurred in and out of focus from the lack of sleep--he knew that if he gave in now he would only wake up to the words, "Goodbye, John" ringing in his ears.

sank low onto his landing gear, staring at the picture of his one-- and it seemed only--love. It didn't matter how many years it had been since the accident; a part Blade was and would always belong to Nick. Looking around at the scene of the base, he headed back to his cliff, parking a little ways from the edge to keep watch over the park for lightning storms. He fought fires now. He saved lives for real. After all, that's all he could do at this point, wasn't it?

So sorry if the ending seems rushed on any of them but constructive criticism would be appreciated! Thank you for reading this!

#disney planes #blade ranger #nick loopin' lopez #planes fire and rescue #letter #spilled ink #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #loopranger #bbc sherlock #johnlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #love letter #angst #multifandom

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unnerving-presence · 1 year

Note

Hiya! Can I request a dbd headcanon for any 3 killers of your choice chasing a g/n survivor and the survivor ends up getting so nervous they accidentally shout "DaDDy ChiLL!!" At them. (I've done this a lot lmao)

i was just about on my death bed writing this so sorry if it isn’t the best 😭 i’m unbelievably sick rn

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

Albert Wesker:

He indeed does not chill.

Albert thinks it’s quite funny that you decide to say that out of anything else that was in your vocabulary. It’s cute. At least he knows the chase you’ll put up will be an entertaining one.

Will he humor you and say something corny back? Maybe.

“Daddy is quite disappointed in your performance..”

It’s so bad and he knows it. It is hilarious to him.

Some part of him deep down liked that you called him daddy and he is still conflicted on whether or not he should keep giving into it.

Kazan Yamaoka:

??? He didn’t know he was a father again ??? Are you his child ???

Kazan is both confused and offended. You are not related to him by blood, so why are you calling him such names ?? But he’s confused. Why are you calling him that?? Is there something he’s missing?

Does he ask Rin about it? Yes. Does she laugh because of his outrageous question? Also yes.

Kazan does not understand even when it is explained to him. He still thinks about when you called him daddy and it still confuses him.

Does not feed into whatever little fantasies you got going on in your brain. Frankly he does not want to know.

Herman Carter:

Definitely thinks it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard

He does anything other than chill. Actually might put more of a shock on you than he would anybody else because of that.

When he first hears it he might just stop out of shock before having a quick laugh about it. He’s never heard anybody call him that before.

Does not indulge in it, but thinks of it every time he sees you. He takes a mental note to go especially after you to see what other interesting reactions you’ll have to his presence.

Herman sometimes laughs to himself about it occasionally. Definitely one of the funnier interactions he’s had in a while.

#dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #albert wesker x reader #kazan yamaoka x reader #herman carter x reader

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prodigal-explorer · 5 months

Text

my dearest little prince (i)

(roman sanders hurt/comfort, cw for extreme self deprecation and janus dropping truth. features sympathetic janus!)

“My dearest little prince…what’s happened to you?”

Roman’s hollow eyes, darkened from sleep deprivation, were squeezed shut, tears spilling out the sides and down his cheeks. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Nobody was supposed to know. Not even Janus’ tender, lulling voice could pull him out of this panic.

“Baby, come here. Please. Let me help you. Let me hold you.”

Janus’ words were practically hypnotic to the tired, desperate young prince. Roman was so tired of being used, so tired of being an object. All he wanted was to be loved, just like everyone else, but it seemed that no matter what he did, no matter what positions he bent himself into, he could never change himself enough. He was still too Roman. Maybe his actions weren’t the problem, after all. Maybe Roman himself was to blame. Everything about him, after all, was wrong, no matter what he did and how he did it. Roman could feel his mind turn to fuzz, Janus’ words and form growing farther and farther away as he enveloped himself in a meager attempt at self-protection. After all, Roman had long learned that he couldn’t trust anybody else to protect him from anything.

This had to be a trap. It just had to be.

“When was the last time you ate?” Janus whispered, putting a hand on Roman’s shoulder. The prince flinched back, but Janus persisted, too anxious to be sensitive. “Baby, please. I’m worried about you. You’ve always been so fragile. And lately, it feels like you’ve just been floating away.”

“Yeah?” Roman whispered, his voice seething with hurt. “I wonder why.”

Janus blinked, and tilted his head, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean, darling?” he asked gently.

“Maybe I should float away,” Roman mumbled thickly as his tears started to suffocate him. “You all would like it so much better if I was gone. You play tricks on me to make me shut up or look stupid, you use me for your own agendas without even caring about mine, and then you betray me when all I ever wanted to do was help my friends! I wanted to be a prince, I wanted to be honorable and chivalrous, but- but what’s the point if it always ends with me alone? I’m the least favorite side, Janus. The least favorite. The least amount of fans like me, and the most amount of fans hate me.”

“That’s-…that’s not fair, Roman,” Janus whispered, but Roman interjected before Janus could continue.

“Maybe it is fair,” he snapped, “Someone has to be. Maybe it should be me. After all, I am the evil twin. No matter what I say or do, no matter how hard I try, people only care about the bad stuff I did, and none of the good stuff I’m doing. What’s the point of trying anymore? What’s the point of anything?”

Roman tried to keep ranting, but a whimper cut him off, and as he realized the weight of everything he was saying, he started to sob. He felt like he was being crushed under the weight of the situation. Never in his entire life had the little prince felt so helpless.

Janus took the opportunity to talk. He tried to hide his anger, not towards Roman, but towards everyone and everything that caused Roman to believe such terrible things were actually true. Himself included.

“My precious little one,” Janus murmured, carefully pulling Roman’s limp and trembling limbs into a hug. “You are not evil. Evil people don’t worry about whether or not they’re evil. Evil people don’t cry as you do now. You are so, so good, my darling. And I’m sorry that nobody has told you that. I’m sorry that you’ve felt so alone for so long. You try harder than anybody I know. You are so ready to learn and change that sometimes I worry that you’ll lose yourself one day and never find it again.”

“Would that really be such a bad thing?” Roman muttered to Janus’ chest.

“Of course it would!” Janus scolded gently, starting to rhythmically pet Roman’s curly hair and support his delicate form. “Roman, you are so special. You’re so…beautiful. I’ve never met anybody else who sees the world the way you do, with such wonder. With such color. You sing when no audience is around to applaud you. You speak to things that can’t speak back. You care so much about everything. You care more than anybody I’ve ever met.”

There was silence and stillness in the room for a very long time, not a sound except for occasional sniffling from Roman. And then, the creative side fully launched himself into Janus’ arms, letting his sorrow carry him as he melted into Janus’ secure, but gentle hold, sobbing into his shoulder and letting Janus support his weight, trusting him to keep him upright.

“My baby…my sweet baby,” Janus whispered, “You’ve been hurting for a long time, haven’t you?”

Roman couldn’t speak. He couldn’t act, he couldn’t ask for more than this. For so long, he had been trying to act more mature, so he could be taken more seriously. But it felt so good to just cry, and be a child again, even if just for a moment. Janus seemed to innately know that Roman needed this. Maybe Janus cared more than Roman thought.

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