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reiderwriter · 9 months

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hi i love your writing

could you do something with reid loving that reader is pregnant. fluff or smut or both

A/N Hello! Thanks for the request! Dad!Spencer is the cutest thing on the planet so this is some unapologetic fluff. And now I have baby fever.

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, idiots in love. Loosely based on Haley and Hotch's conversation in 1x1. Very fluffy and probably very cheesy and sentimental too... Sorry, you give me girl dad Spencer and suddenly there isn't an impure thought in my head, I just want to lovingly stare at him like I'm the dead wife in an action movie montage.

My requests are open, check out my masterlist for more 🌸

“Okay, what about Amelia?”

“No, Amelia Dyer, Victorian serial killer. She killed multiple infants over a thirty-year period.”

“Okay, okay, how about, Myra?”

“Myra Hindley, she and her partner Ian Brady abducted and killed five children and teens in the early sixties.”

“God, not that then. There can’t be a psychopathic murderer called Belle, right?”

“You’re making this too easy for me, y’know. Belle Gunness, Hell’s Belle, she’s one of the most prolific female serial killers of all time, even 100 years after her supposed death. It’s fascinating, you know, people think that she actually faked her death - when the doctor who performed the postmortem testified, he noted that the cadaver was about five inches shorter and about fifty pounds lighter than Gunness supposedly was….” You raise a single eyebrow at your wonderful husband, and he immediately shuts up.

“I’m rambling aren’t I?” He smiled down at you as you sat curled up as much as you could in your favorite spot on the couch, the cosiest part of your shared apartment. You smiled back up at him as he leaned down for a kiss and you gladly craned your neck up in response, meeting his lips for a sweet moment.

“Hotch was right you know,” you joked when the two of you parted. “All of the best baby names have been taken by serial killers.”

“Yeah, you’d think with the ratio of female to male serial killers, a girl would be easier to name.” He leans down to kiss you again before falling into a crouch next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and placing his hand on your stomach.

“How big did you say our little girl is now?”

“Y/N, you asked me that half an hour ago. I know pregnancy messes with your brain a bit, but if you’re that bad we’re going to have to get you back to Dr Patel and see if you’re doing okay.” He was joking of course, but you showed him your little pout anyway, knowing that he loved seeing the silly expression on your face.

“Humor me, Doctor.” He strokes your stomach and moves away, but not too far away, taking up right next to you on the couch, and pulling your legs over his lap.

“At five months, she’s roughly 10 inches long with a weight of about 0.5-1 pound. But that ‘How Big is My Baby’ book would say that she’s roughly one banana in length.” You giggled up at him and he grabbed your hand and just held it, content to have you in his arms in any way, big or small.

“I can’t believe it’s been five months already,” you giggle as he presses another kiss to your hand.

“I get it. It doesn’t feel quite real yet to me, either. I thought for so long that fatherhood just wasn’t in my future, but you’re the gift that keeps on giving I guess. I don't know what I did to deserve you.” Even if the words weren’t so sweet, with all of the hormones, you would’ve started crying at anything. Or at least that’s what you’re going to tell him when he sees the small tears threatening to drop into enormous loving sobs.

“Spencer Reid, I am not a gift. I am simply the woman with the correct combination of sense and foolish luck that got to marry you.” He’d done this before, and you were used to his small habit of self-deprecating talk, but after a year of marriage and three years of dating before that, you’d managed to work him down to the occasional comment.

“Don’t try to argue about this, I’m definitely the one benefitting the most from the situation right now,” he joked with you, and you could see the genuine adoration shining from behind his eyes. It was a little spark that not many got to see, a glimpse of true happiness in someone usually so reserved.

“Spencer, you’ve given me foot rubs everyday this week, you’ve read more pregnancy and parenting books than every OBGYN and midwife in the area combined, and you’ve somehow attended more of my clinical check-ups than me, and I’m the one whose pregnant.”

“And you’re growing our child inside of you, which is itself more impressive than anything I could ever do with a book and some modern acts of chivalry.”

“Yeah, tell your boss that. I think the only thing keeping Emily from pulling her hair out over your constant absences is that she thinks she’s competing for the title of godmother. She thinks Penelope and JJ are trying to corrupt me with parenting advice and all those baby clothes Pen keeps bringing over.”

“She’s going to be crushed when she remembers we’re not religious, right?”

“Devastated,” the two of you shared a laugh on the couch, and it quickly devolved into a giggle fit after Spencer leaned over and tickled your side. You jolted away from his touch, but he was on you again, attacking your sides with small caresses, and you were gasping for breath between laughs.

“Spence stop- ahh!” Your squeals stopped as you cried out in shock. It was small but you felt something tap against your stomach. Spencer stopped immediately upon seeing your expression change, and a serious look settled on him as he assessed you for any damage.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you in pain anywhere, is the baby okay?” He shot out the questions rapidly, one after the other, barely leaving space to catch his own breath from the laughter of earlier.

It happened again and you put a hand to your stomach, finally realising what’s going on.

“I think I just felt her kick. Spencer, I think I just felt the baby kick.” You couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across your face, as much as you couldn’t help the tear that dropped from your eye as your hand rested against your belly again, scared to move for fear that the baby wouldn’t communicate with you again.

“What? Now? Can I- Can I try and feel it, too?” His hands hesitated at first but when you enthusiastically nodded and used your other hand to put him close to yours, you could feel his eagerness to feel the small kicks of your daughter as well.

Almost as if she was waiting for him, as soon as his hand was in the right position, your little girl kicked again, almost as if screaming “I’m here mommy and daddy,” for the two of you to hear.

“I think she’s trying to tell us not to have fun without her,” Reid whispered in your ear, kissing your tear streaked cheek, and using his free hand to rub them away from the other side of your face.

“I am so thankful everyday for this gift you have given me. And for the record, the gift isn’t the baby. The gift is the overwhelming happiness you bring to my life, and the beauty you make me see in this world. The fact that you’re going to be the mother of my child gives me the confidence to get up and go to work every morning because I know that there is joy and there is kindness and there are beautiful people in this world, and you are one, and she will be, too.”

His attempts to dry your tears are now completely vanquished as you let your emotions run wild, but you almost laugh when you realise that his eyes are just as glassy as yours, and you both sit there, overwhelmed by the pure, unadulterated joy that a small kick from a child who has yet to be given a name has bought you.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #I love girl dad Spencer you're going to have to claw girl dad Spencer from my cold dead hands #requested

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schweizercomics · 5 months

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Companions of Christmas, Day 3: Père Fouettard

Père Fouettard was a butcher and cook whose tavern was visited by three children on their way to boarding school. Seeing their nice clothes, wicked Fouettard assumed that they must be rich, and, being children, would be easy to rob. He killed them with his carving knives, chopped them up, and closed up their remains in a pickle barrel, intending to serve them as meat to his unwary customers to get rid of the evidence of his crime, pocketing the money that they had carried and congratulating himself on how efficiently he had performed this dastardly deed.

That night, his tavern had a visitor – Nicholas, Bishop of Myra, who was ever aware of the plight of children in danger. The evil Fouettard did not want the saintly bishop in his establishment, so when Nicholas requested a hearty supper, Fouettard replied that he had no meat.

“What’s in that barrel, then?” asked Nicholas, who clapped his hands, and the three youngsters, miraculously returned to life and wholly intact, leapt from the barrel. Fouettard was brought to his knees in terror by the evidence of Nicholas’s miraculous goodness, and begged Nicholas to show him mercy.

Nick suggested that the most merciful thing he could do would be to give Fouettard the opportunity to right his wrongs through contrition and service, and ever since that day Père Fouettard has been Nick’s cook, working first to feed the hungry of Myra during Nick’s earthly lifetime, and then as the head cook at the North Pole, satisfying the appetites of the Clauses, their companions, the elves, and any visitors who might stop by.

Though reformed in spirit, Père Fouettard is still short-tempered and surly, and kids in France, Belgium, and the French-speaking cantons of Switzerland know to steer clear of him when he accompanies St. Nicholas on his holiday visits.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Happy December, friends! Each year around this time I post up drawings of Christmas and other winter holiday figures, along with narratives to explain the practices with which folklorists and holiday buffs might be familiar. When stories exist, I use them; when they don't, I do what I can to piece together what folklore surrounds them to fill in the gaps (or, in some instances, defer to the theories of my friend and fellow narrative reconcilianist Benito Cereno). I hope you enjoy them!

#Père Fouettard #Christmas #Christmas Legends #Christmas Stories #Christmas Traditions #Christmas Art

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bucknastysbabe · 3 months

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You chose the lowborn route, will the Knight of the night enjoy your company?

Highborn Route

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Sex worker!reader, post Nyra heartbreak sad Crispy, very very soft intimate sex, he’s a sad boy, angsty from start to finish, pnv!sex, poor baby delulu boy, one sided love

A/N: Me no beta just vibes

Divider by: @cafekitsune

The mistress of your brothel called you over, beckoning from a gauzy curtain. She peeked out and pressed a finger to her lips. You went to Myra and raised a silent brow. The older woman whispered, “We have a very discreet client. Very. He’s paying good coin and it’s his neck and possibly one of ours if it’s discovered.”

You grew a bit fearful, asking, “Who is it? One of the princes? Princess? We have Aegon all the time.”

“No young one, a Kingsguard. He’s in a state, be gentle. No names. He requested someone with Valyrian features. Upstairs room, knock two times and pause then thrice you shall knock.”

You merely had dainty features and purple eyes. Nothing like the royals, those from the freehold cities. Your skin was close to a Velaryon— but your curls were dark. But you took the key and nodded, quietly making your way past curtains and the sounds of fucking. The noises of home.

Valyrian features, hm. He needed to go to the finer pillowhouses for that. The girls from Lys and Volantis could be found there with their pale hair and pretty eyes. Although he chose a decent place. You knew a mid-way whorehouse would be the most discreet.

Not too poor to sell information, not too expensive for a careless spoilt whore to spill her secrets to a customer. You knew of some lords who had been through here, Prince Aegon frequented now and then. A Kingsguard was strange.

Still you walked up the stairs, peering over your shoulder fearfully. You knocked twice, pause, then the three more times. A muffled voice replied, “You can enter.” Your hands were shaking while unlocking the heavy door. This was the finest room in the place. You’d only been up here once before.

The lock clicked and you smoothed down your gauzy fabrics, stepping in quietly, smoothing your face into placidity. He looked like a normal man to you, albeit extremely handsome, not wearing anything indicative of the Kingsguard. He would stick out like a sore thumb if so, especially to the weasel-like goldcloaks.

The man looked like he’d been crying, his dark curls a mess. You curtsied and he croaked, “I’m nothing, no need to act like it.” Brown eyes glanced up, still glassy. He peered under those messy curls and hummed, “You have pretty eyes. I take you’re the closest they have to Valyrian features.”

“Thank you,” you cautiously stepped forward to kneel at his booted feet, “It’s just my eyes. They like to joke I’m a bastard of one.” He paused, a trembling, scabbed hand reaching out to caress your cheek. He sighed, “Do you feel trapped here, stuck to this life?”

His pretty lips twitched, emotions roiling off of this supposed white knight. You mulled over it and replied, “I’ve accepted my fate. I have a cunt and my last name is Waters. I used to dream when I was younger, alas, being a silk street whore was to be my calling. I guess I could go be a silent sister, sounds grim.”

Mirth flashed across his face. He murmured, calloused thumb still stroking your cheek, “I can’t escape my last name either. Common born. Being a— one of them was the highest a man like me could get. Blessed and I went and sullied it. But I’m still there, sworn. What is a dirty cloak worth?”

“We all make mistakes. Stains come out with enough patience. Now did you come to a whore house to confess your sins?,” you inquired, own hand coming up to hold his. The brunette shook his head, smiling with no trace of happiness. He scoffed, “I suppose not. I don’t really know. Just want to be someone else for a bit.”

You stood up, slipping between his strong thighs to place your arms around broad shoulders. Smiling gently you informed the knight, “A man and a woman. Nothing more, nothing less. No titles, oaths, sullied cloaks or bad blood.”

The brunette nodded, looking up with wide eyes. He rasped, “Yes, yes, I’d like that very much. Just for the night, forget about it all.” He seemed to grow emotional again, so you leaned forward with puckered lips. He filled the gap, taking your slow pace in stride. Big hands found themselves at your waist, holding on like you would break.

The knight lapped into your mouth, you letting him choose the pace. Soft and wet seemed to be his choice for the night, pouring false intimacy into the sharing of each other. Your lips smacked against his own, the man’s breath hitching, pulling you closer into his frame.

“You can call me Criston,” he breathed.

You pushed Criston back to straddle his hips, your bare cunt running against his breeches— two voices softly crying out in unision. He was half-hard, cock plumping up nicely. Running your fingers through his hair you hummed, “Usually men don’t kiss whores.”

“No titles tonight.”

You smiled against his lips, snickering, “Fair. Do you want me to take care of you Criston?”

He nodded, a silent plea, bigger hands trembling at your waist. You picked up the earlier kissing, wet and messy, almost intimate. The knight liked when your lips audibly smacked, choking on a groan and seeking your tongue. It felt like hours of passionate kissing, Criston savoring your mouth, lapping at your tongue.

His cock throbbed underneath your own aching cunt. Pulling away with a dribble of drool, you kissed his stubbled jaw, nibbling very gently, hands roving up his shirt to caress strong sides. The knight exhaled sharply, hips bucking at the same time. His swollen lips hung open, dark eyes shut.

You idly wondered if he was picturing someone else. Perhaps the Princess, or Lady Velaryon. It didn’t make a difference but you hoped he enjoyed you as well.

Criston’s hands began to pull at your flimsy excuse for a dress, revealing budded tits and your scarred skin. Old marks from a mean customer gone mad. You remained naked as the day you were born. Criston abruptly sat upright— you holding his shoulders with wide eyes. Dark pools roved down your body, the man murmuring, “Gorgeous.”

This was the time to questioningly grab at the hem of his loose top, him nodding in acquiescence. You shimmied it off, then raised yourself up to nimbly unlace his breeches— thick cock straining against the dull fabric. In a tangle of limbs, the pair of you fell back again so Criston could shuck off his pants.

He smiled again, this time more genuine. Then flipped you onto your back, a hand pushing your own down, fingers interlacing. Criston’s other hand palmed at your breast, forefinger and thumb pulling at the tender bud. A whimper leaked from your gaping lips, shivering under his sculpted body.

“Is that good?,” he asked, dark hair falling forward to curtain you two in. You felt down ridged sides, moaning, “So very good Criston.” You didn’t expect him to seal his lips on your other nipple, suckling and flicking his tongue. You arched underneath him, his brawnier frame keeping you pinned.

The more shifting and squirming you did, the more the man held you down, breathing raggedly against your now-swollen chest. He panted, “Need…to have you…” His cock was already slotted between your thighs, wet with copious slick. You hadn’t been so turned on by a customer in forever.

“Take me, it’s yours,” came your weak plea.

Criston removed a hand wound in your hair, pressing little kisses to your neck as he slid his blunt tip into your warmth. You laughed throatily, “I’m no spring maiden, you can do as you feel.” The brunette groaned sliding into your heat, hissing against your sweaty neck, “You don’t deserve to be brutalized.”

You swallowed down the weird feeling that brought up— wrapping your legs tight around Criston’s waist. He kept your one hand down, fingers still interlocked, eyes flicking to them, obviously recounting something. Grabbing a sharp jawline you redirected his gaze. Criston looked a bit agonized again— cock softening.

Wrapping your arms around his neck again, you pulled his nose flush to yours, repeating, “A woman and a man, just in the now, no titles or cloaks.” He swallowed, pressing his forehead to your own, hips beginning to thrust into your welcoming pussy.

A soft noise was forced out of your throat, his girth stretching your walls, the thick tip dragging against your inner ridges. Heavy balls slapped against your ass, Criston groaned and holding tight, smothering you with fervent kisses. He babbled, “Yes, fuck, you’re so- so- gods! Kind!”

Nibbling on his earlobe you nodded along, encouraging the man to let it out, powerful thrusts rocking the bed along. Your head was spinning from the delightful pleasure— a rarity in your line of work. The knight continued to rant, “Why can’t she be like you? Fucking serpent!”

He bucked roughly, apologizing immediate with a kiss to your forehead. You rolled back onto his stiff prick, mewling his name. Eventually came the strung together response, “Th-then she does not de-serrrve you! Gods!” Criston lowly moaned, mouth breathing hot and desperate down your neck, “I hope so.”

The room was growing warm with the heat of passionate fucking— you couldn’t say lovemaking. Slapping, mewls, heavy breaths. The bed ropes creaked with his movements, chain dangling in your view. The man had enough stamina to keep up with an experienced whore.

Criston seized your lips again, asking to touch your button between fraught kisses. You wailed at the wonderful touch, his thumb swirling your slick and his pre on the bundle of nerves. There was no way you couldn’t scratch his back and fuck back onto his pulsing cock. This was just too good.

He helplessly called you a name, one you shan’t repeat. He was so out of it now, head shoved into the crook of your neck, drooling. You shivered again, legs twitching as the fire in your belly lit up. Digging your nails into muscled back came the warning. He slipped his thumb up and up— sending you reeling with a cry and gush of arousal, thoroughly coating his twitching member.

Criston groaned deep and long, mouthing at your sweaty neck, gripping your hands together bruisingly. He whimpered, “Seven forgive me, forgive me, forgive me,” as he feverishly pulled out just in time to spurt on your thigh and mound.

The knight sat back on his haunches, panting, face flushed with exertion. He ran a hand through sweaty hair, rasping, “Thank you, I- ah, never got your name.”

“Doesn’t make a difference Ser Criston.”

He nodded with a slight frown, posture relaxing some. The knight shakily stood up to find a the bowl of water and rag, wiping himself off. Then he came over to your lazy frame, doing the same, shushing your overstimulated squeak of his name.

You maneuvered your sore body up as he began to dress, doing the same, wrapping back up in the thin fabric. Criston secured the hood over his head, informing the coin was in the bag inside the chest. He stopped at the door again and softly stated, “Thank you again.”

“I hope you find what you’re looking for Ser Criston,” you said.

The door closed with an audible click. Suddenly you felt that emptiness he carried. A taste of intimacy and it was ripped away before you could truly indulge. No matter. You had a job just like the forlorn knight.

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #ser criston cole imagine #ser criston cole smut #ser criston cole x reader #criston x reader #criston cole x reader

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wormwoodandhoney · 9 months

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heey laura!! may i ask/request you books that "warm the heart" bc the world is so chaotic that i need a getaway, like asap hehehe or a cozy vibes, kindness, you know?? *sighs* i need that hehe

absolutely!! i ADORE cozy, so this will actually be hard to narrow down. i'm not sure what genre of cozy you want, because cozy transcends genre, so here's a little bit of everything! if there's a specific genre you want, let me know!

fantasy & sci fi

the very secret society of irregular witches by sangu mandanna is one of my all time favorite books. about a lonely witch who is hired by a found family to teach their three young witches.

legends & lattes by travis baldree is the definitive cozy fantasy, about an orc who opens a coffee shop. very little plot, mostly vibes.

a proper dragon by eb wheeler is a regency fantasy romance with dragons.

a psalm for the wild-built and it's sequel by becky chambers is about a tea monk who meets a robot looking for the answer to the question "what does humanity need?"

romance

the banned bookshop of maggie banks by shauna robinson in which maggie agrees to help a friend run her bookshop in a small town dedicated to a historical author, in which the town's rules only allows books by this historical author or his contemporaries to be sold. maggie starts a secret, underground book club. maggie herself learns to love reading when she makes a deal with the handsome town grumpy man, who agrees to step out of his comfort zone if she reads his recommendations.

the neighbor favor by kristina forest is about a shy bookworm who asks her handsome neighbor for dating advice, not realizing he is the author she's been anonymously emailing.

you should see me in a crown by leah johnson is about a teen girl who reluctantly joins the race for prom queen in order to get a scholarship, and begins to fall for another girl in the competition.

the miniscule mansion of myra malone by audrey burges is about an agoraphobic woman who blogs about the creation of her beautiful dollhouse, only to get a confused email from a young man who lives in an exact, real-life replica of the dollhouse.

general fiction

someone else's shoes by jojo moyes is about two very different women who accidentally switch bags (and some very important shoes).

a man called ove by frederick backman is about a very grumpy old man who reluctantly befriends his new, chatty neighbors.

remarkably bright creatures by shelby van pelt is about a grumpy old octopus who reluctantly befriends his new, chatty human janitor.

i'm gonna stop there, but if you want more cozy genres (mystery, the controversial concept of "cozy horror", or i could even see if i could get cozy nonfiction), hit me up!

#book recs #cozy #cozy boks #books

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jo-harrington · 6 months

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Rise of the Guardians

I can only imagine this is a request for Hymns and not just…asking what I think of the movie? (Because I love it. Jack Frost and Periwinkle from Secret of the Wings was a fluffy ship I had for a short bit.) I hope you enjoy this little blurb. It's a little...angsty.

(Literally poor timing as today is Halloween and this is set in December but idgaf.)

TW: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Eddie and Reader/OC have a little fight and then reconcile, but with a supernatural element involved.

Find Hymns of Heaven here.

And find the Master List for As Above, So Below here.

December 1984

Your night-in wasn’t supposed to be like this.

But that's what he always thought when the two of you fought. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not with you.

And inevitably...it wasn't.

A little verbal tousle never led to anything disastrous or relationship-ending. It was just...him. His abandonment issues. His need to be...needed.

The night started pretty normally. December, talks of Christmas, a last-minute visit to K-Mart before it closed to get hot cocoa (and fuck around in the toy aisle because you both were still kids inside after all), and then you regaling Eddie with the origins of Santa Claus as he flipped through your shoebox full of cassettes for something decent to listen to.

"...the story of Saint Nicholas of Myra is cool, but I always liked the legend of the Guardians better."

"Guardians?" Eddie asked, only semi-present as he stared at the faded track listing on one tape to see just what it was.

"I read it in a book once," you explained. "The Guardians of Childhood. They're meant to protect children."

You went on and on and explained each of the Guardians, who they were and what they did. Wonder and memories and special surprises made with magic and happiness. Your hands gestured wildly as you spoke and it was easy to see the sparkle in your eyes as the street lights illuminated your face every so often.

But the longer you went and the more Eddie heard, the worse he felt.

The Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus.

He'd been hearing about them for most of his childhood. All of it. Heard about them, though. Never experienced.

He'd always felt...slighted.

Now, as an adult...hell...even back in his childhood he knew. Knew that those things weren't real.

When he lost a tooth growing up, his mom would pull together a handful of change from the tip jar at Benny's for the Tooth Fairy to leave him. He could hear her count the coins as he laid awake in bed, hoping to catch the elusive sprite that first night. He always said he lost the teeth from that point on, not wanting to be burdensome.

His family didn't celebrate Easter. He'd heard all of the "he is risen" crap from church-going classmates growing up. He always questioned how it tied in with rabbits and eggs and chocolate, with no definitive response. At best, he and Wayne indulged in Cadbury Eggs as a special treat every year, with a few stashed away at the back of the freezer whenever the mood struck. But the meaning of the holiday was lost on him.

And his dad had pretty much dashed all illusion of Santa Claus immediately when he was younger. He couldn't remember a time when there had been any extra gifts under their mediocre tree.

"Isn't it amazing?" you asked by the time you were climbing the steps and entering the trailer. “Like…ok…admittedly I kind of think kids are the worst but…Guardians protecting the innocence of children. It deserves to be protected.”

“Does it?” He asked flippantly as you went on about how fun it would be to go to the North Pole one day and see if Santa’s workshop was real. “Do they?”

“And he—w-what?” You furrowed your brow as you dropped the bag of cocoa and marshmallows on the counter in the kitchen.

“I don’t know about you,” he laughed dryly as he fell onto the couch. “But there was no one magical and fantastical protecting me. There was my mom, then Wayne and Rick, and now…now I look out for myself.”

“Eddie…I…” you looked like a deer in the headlights. At a loss for words.

He knew you didn’t mean any harm with your story, but he couldn’t help but bicker and bitch and yell. And when he finally turned his frustration onto you instead of his situation, your expression got darker. Because you weren’t going to stand there and take this misplaced anger.

And that’s all it was right? Bickering and picking and mourning the loss of a childhood and a loss of innocence in both of you. You had more in common than you had differences—

Shitty, absent parents whose only priorities were themselves.

A guardian who sacrificed everything for you, to their own detriment.

The obvious fact that you were different from everyone else and there was nothing you could do to change that.

The idea that you were the only ones in the world who could understand each others plight.

—it’s just when you got to feel bad for yourselves that it all turned to shit. Unable to see what the other saw because you couldn’t see past yourselves.

So, back and forth you both went. Deeper and deeper. You didn’t understand. No he didn’t understand.

“I would think,” you scoffed, tears streaming down your cheeks. “That you, out of everyone, would feel some kind of…kinship with this. I didn’t say it to make you feel bad Eddie. You protect all of those kids. Your friends. Me. Instead—”

“You’ve made it very clear, the only person you need to protect is yourself. You only care about yourself. Otherwise why…why would you keep all of these secrets from me?”

You choked a sob. It shook your entire body.

And suddenly he didn’t see red anymore.

He saw…you, his girlfriend, who knew how much he enjoyed magic and fantasy and whimsy as an escape. You, who enjoyed all manner of monsters and cryptids and tall tales as a way to connect with the world around you that, most times, didn’t want to connect back.

You, who didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his bullshit.

After Eddie’s dad got sent away, his mom had a better head on her shoulders when it came to arguments. To protect herself, protect him. She always chose to walk away from a fight with Rick when one of them got mean. And taught Eddie to do the same.

“You’re gonna hear people say, don’t go to bed angry,” she told him once, as she tucked him into bed after a verbal tousle. He’d asked if they were ever gonna see Rick again. “But that just encourages people to fight more until it’s over. You want to go to bed. Because the Sandman will bring good dreams and help you realize how silly it all was in the first place.”

And that was the philosophy you both had agreed to after your first fight, over Mountain Dew of all things.

So he knew, now, once you controlled your tears, controlled your breathing, that was what you were planning to do. And he couldn’t object. Keys in hand, coat shrugged back on so you could trek out to your car. No goodbye. Because sleep would make it all better.

It had to.

He’d just sat down with his head, full of regrets, in his hands when you knocked on the door, needing to get back in.

“Car won’t start,” you whispered, unable to look him in the eye.

“I can take a look in the morning,” he offered weakly. “You can have my room. I’ll sleep on Wayne’s bed, not like he’s here to mind.”

The two of you went through the motions, calming yourselves down but still not ready for a kiss goodnight.

Eddie fell asleep with the sound of your soft sobs echoing in his ears, whether they were real or imagined.

It was Pitch Black and his thoughts swirled around him.

Literally.

They took the form of spectral creatures, smoky and abyss-like phantasms that grabbed and pinched at his skin.

He was tied down on the ground, held by each of his limbs, by his throat. He choked on his apologies.

“Please please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you the way I did.”

They bit and pulled and tore at pieces of him. Filled his mind with dark thoughts. Images of you crying, screaming, burning in fire.

“Please no. Forgive me. I fucked up. I fucked up.”

And then…

They stopped.

He was released in a puff of smoke, the inky, insidious tendrils evaporated and he was left to lay…on a glowing golden cloud.

Eddie looked around and saw…in the distant darkness…another cloud lazily approached. And on it there was a rotund little man with glowing skin and a beatific smile. His eyes crinkled as he got close enough to Eddie where their two clouds merged to become one.

“Who…are you?” Eddie asked dumbly. “Is…”

The man grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.

“Is she ok?” He felt relieved when the man nodded sympathetically. “Where are we?”

The man’s eyes closed and the void they were in brightened to reveal…

Unicorns and sword-wielding elves and a palace spire that reached the sky. A stage with a crowd of roaring fans, a large gaming table with a group of eager participants, a comfy sofa and a coffee table with a bowl of popcorn and two steaming mugs of cocoa resting atop it.

All made of golden dust.

“Dreams,” he muttered. “My dreams.”

One of the man’s hands landed on Eddie’s shoulder and the other over his heart. He pressed down carefully and raised a brow in question.

“I do love her,” he whispered to the man, easily able to understand despite the silence. The man patted his hand twice. “And I know. She loves me too.”

The man’s brow became stern and his fist clenched then knocked on Eddie’s chest again. Eddie frowned, and then the man huffed a sigh. Above his head gold dust swirled and suddenly…there you were. A tiny version of you with a sword in one hand and shield in the other. You slashed and hacked as the gold dust turned black and attacked you.

“She’s…” He nodded. “She’s protecting me.”

The man smiled and nodded, the little dust mirage disappeared.

His hands then went and cupped Eddie’s face. He leaned in close and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s forehead.

For the briefest second, Eddie felt the most serene than he had felt in his entire life.

And then it all disappeared.

He woke with a start, tears dripping down his face.

It was dawn, the living room glowed with the rising sun, and you were there. Puffy-eyed and somber, with your hands on his cheeks.

“Hey it’s ok,” you told him. “It was just a nightmare.”

“No, no,” he shook his head. “It’s…it was…it was a dream.”

“Yeah?” You quirked a smile at him. Before you could make a joke, he was upright, engulfing you in a tight hug. “You, uh…sure it wasn’t a nightmare?”

“I’m sure,” he spoke, words muffled in your neck as he willed himself to become one with you. To no avail, of course. Your hand ran over his back, through his hair and you let him have the time he needed.

“Did you know…” he finally spoke. “Did you know that the Sandman is a Guardian?”

You got stiff for a moment, body immediately on the defensive, but as he pulled away to look at you with—he hoped—an apologetic gaze, you relaxed.

“Oh yeah?”

It wasn’t an apology. He could get to that later. But it was enough of one for now, one that you were willing to accept.

“He is the Guardian of Dreams. And he…he doesn’t talk. Did you know that?”

“Well obviously he doesn’t want to wake anyone up,” you gave him a small nod and a smile.

Eddie thought about it for a moment.

“…that actually makes sense.” He pressed his lips to yours for briefly. “I was so…occupied with what I didn’t have that I forgot what it was that I did.”

“Your dreams?”

“Yeah.”

He’d always been a dreamer. Always thought of fantastical far away lands and the most epic future. Filled with adventure and laughter. Friends and fans.

But there was one dream that was his reality, and he would never forget it again.

“And you.”

#hymns of heaven #aasb #as above so below #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #Eddie Munson angst #eddie munson x oc

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lukeevangelista · 1 year

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surprising jj when u told him i couldn’t go to the champion game but he finds u in the stands making at him

Champions - JJ McCarthy

I decided to make some of my requests full fics, this being one.

Idk any GF names, so FICTION HI.

Also I know the game was in Indiana at Purdue. But I’m making it in Michigan

*********************************************************

It was one of the best times of the year for Michigan Sports, especially when they had a killer team to take them all the way.

Michigan Football was in the BIG10 race, people already counting them out against Ohio State, but they surprised people and surpassed expectations when they beat them, causing Michigan fans to be pumped for what was to come.

You, however, hadn’t been able to make any of the games this season. You knew this disappointed JJ as you had never missed a game if possible.

Work and school had you stressed to the max, your time being fully consumed by both, plus an extra curricular activities you had as well.

You were lucky enough to go to Michigan State, although you didn’t mind wearing maize and blue for him. It did make things easier because you were able to see him, but it still sucked you weren’t able to be there for him all the time- like you had hoped when you applied at MSU.

“Are you going to be able to make it tonight?” JJ asked over the phone.

You had a grin on your face, waiting for the question he asked pretty much every home game.

“Not tonight J. They scheduled me right during the time you’ll be playing, but we’ll be watching.” You tried to sound disappointed, but you weren’t sure if you were hiding it very well.

“Oh.” He whispered, “I just thought- never mind. I’ll talk to you later babe.” He said before hanging up, not even giving you a chance to response.

Perfect.

You were hoping he wouldn’t figure it out. He had you location on his phone, but you knew he wouldn’t be checking it hours before the game. The only time he really looked at it was when you weren’t responded, just to see if you were okay and where you were.

It was a protection type thing- not a controlling thing.

You met up with some of his teammates girlfriends, they grinning ear to ear that you had finally been able to make a game for his sophmore season. The season had been important to him, everyone realizing this- especially because he had became the full time starter after Cade McNamara had transferred out, instead of splitting games like it was supposed to be.

“I’m glad you decided to come.” Myra grinned as she tossed her around around you.

She had helped you plan this, especially because of where the parking would be sparse with this game being a big one.

“Me too. I know it’s bothered him.” You sighed, “He just hasn’t said anything.”

“It has. He’s talked to the boys about it and obviously they’ve mentioned it to us, but he’s not going to make you feel bad over it.”

“Well that doesn’t help.” You mumbled, “That makes me feel worse that he didn’t come to me about it.”

“He didn’t want to make you feel bad, like I said.”

You shrugged as you two kept walking, eventually finding yourself on the first row in the student section- right behind where the boys would be.

The game was close to starting so JJ was still on the field warming up with his teammates, getting ready to throw one of the biggest games of his career.

The coaches called the boys over, him walking towards the huddle with his head down.

Donovan Edwards nudged him arm, him pointing over to where you were standing with his girlfriend, “She’s here.” He grinned.

JJ’s head shot up, “Where?”

“There.”

****

JJ played the best game he’s played in a while, the final score not being close. Not that he hadn’t played well in other games, this one meant the most to him. He was in a championship game and you were here.

“You came!” He laughed as he saw you running towards him, “You said- what?”

“You really thought I’d miss this?” You laughed as you jumped in his arms, him spinning the two of you around.

“You said you had to work.” He said as he put you down, “I thought-“

“It was to throw you off. I wanted to surprise you. I’ve missed every game this year and I figured if I missed this one, you wouldn’t suspect anything.” You admitted, “but really, it pissed you off.”

“It did. It hurt a lot too.” He laughed, “but I wasn’t going to tell you that. I know you have things going on as well.” He added, “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“I am too. I wanted to make the others, I just couldn’t get off work.” You sighed, “But I made it to this one, that’s all that matters.”

“And the fact we’re champions.”

“That too.”

#jj mccarthy #soft thoughts w/ari

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goddessswan · 9 days

Text

　　﹒　♡　⊹　🌸　𓂃　﹒　◞

　　🎀　cutefem　⸝⸝　names　₊　

　　╭　🌷　　✦　names　﹒

　　╰　　　♡　amia athena anais abbey avril bibi bea bria bunny cassie cleo clair coco caiti dina dove dalia dot doe elodie ellie erin elsie eryn fiona fay fleur flora florie gina gwen ginny honey hazel heidi hope heart ivy iris jenny jodi lisa lovette lydia myra maisie mia nola nia nala olive paige pearl pip robin rue ruby skye susie tara tina valerie vie viv vera vanny wendy wynn yvette　﹒

◌ 　　❜ 　　request by: nobody 　　𓈒

#୨﹒names #୨﹒@goddessswan #npts #npt list #name pack #cute #feminine

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capinejghafa · 2 years

Text

Nothing says I need a vacation more than just scheduling a coffee break and people deciding to come in and request things...

#i actually dont mind requests! they help distract me from my processing project! but i genuinely need to be alone right now #and you're not helping my very delicate mental state #random #myra irl

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literalite · 4 days

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📩 Simblr question of the day: Choose a sim of your own that you consider your/a fave, then choose one sim from three (or more!) different simblrs, now imagine what those sims would be like in a room together? Who's walking out first? Who's staying the longest? Who would get along? Who wouldn't get along at all? Elaborate as much or as little as you'd like :) (p.s please feel free to share this to others, anon or not, and feel free to use the hashtag " SQOTD "! I love seeing everyone's answers and reading them makes my day ~ 💛 )

shan @rainymoodlet's dan, maria @itsmariejanel's myra and marine @kashisun's ymir are in the room. and olli @lucidicer's sioar obviously since the sim im tossing into the ring is.... nayef !!!!

uhhh the kicker here is that sioar's english isnt that great and honestly neither is nayef's LMFAOOOo so is this going to be them staring at the others maybe. well ok nayef's english is passable so he is probably going to zero in on dan because he looks like he has a lot of meat on those bones and he knows how to be charming. which means sioar is literally just going to kill him there and then. nayef will also literally help DFGHJK hes just playinggg he likes making sioar be jealous over him

myra's going to ask if all that blood is going to waste. and ymir is going to request some body parts because she wants to make some weapons out of him. so basically 4/5 have left the room and dan is dismembered on the floor..

#my head hurty but im glad we all came to this conclusion guys #sqotd ask #ask #reply #anonymous

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lgwifey · 11 months

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hii love could i please request something with graham just something cute and fluffy (maybe beginning in angst and ending fluff??) love you xx

(Hiyaaaa babes, sorry my writings been really dead recently but I hope this is okay x)

pinky promise

90s!graham coxon x fem!reader

Bright lights flashed in the group's face as they waited for their call to enter the stage of the popular talk show.

Y/n stood with the rest of her band, she was in the middle with their bassist behind her. They weren't as popular as Cassie and Myra, the vocals and guitarist, and they weren't overly bothered by it. At the end of the day, they all came into this business because of their love of music and as long as she was playing with her bestfriends she was happy.

"And now ladies and gentlemen, Cassie, Myra, Y/n and Luka also known as Y/b/n."

The four strolled over to the long couch set out beside the host's chair and desk. None of them had gone over the top on their outfit for the interview, sticking to what they might of worn on stage or in the streets.

Y/n sat between Myra and Luka, fixing her hair to how it was before it got messed up by the fan blowing air at them all.

Eventually the live audience stopped applauding and the man in a suit turned to them.

"First of all, I'm starting to think that all guys should stop weightlifting and get a set of drums in there, Y/n those look pretty dangerous."

The teenage girl laughed before flexing her arms, Luka pulling them down with an amused expression on his face.

"Yeah, playing drums pratically everyday since your three give you some muscle."

"Three !? Anyways, back to the script or my boss' are gonna tell me off. What can you tell me about the-"

Y/n listened as Cassie and Myra answered his questions aimed to get, waiting paciently for her and Luka's turn.

As her friends answered their questions, her eyes scanned over the crowd. Luka must've noticed her unintentional quiet sigh because he discretely held onto her hand for the rest of the interview.

Y/n gave an ached groan as her bones slowly slid back into a normal position, muscles aching from how she had fell asleep.

Her sleep dosed eyes fluttered around as she dragged her mind into conciousness. Still in last night's heels, she made a mental reminder to try to take them off next time as one on her ankles was twisted sideways by the scuffed, plastic pink platform and her other leg was dinted with marks from the thin straps that crawled up to her knee.

She must have been spending too long observing her surroundings because soon an arm crawled out from under the crumbled duvet and killed the irritating noise which echoed out of her phone.

Her spine let out a satisfying crack as she arched it just before falling on her side to face Graham. The guitarist layed with his head buried under the blanket, pillow sideways and phone drooped half over his head. He'd gave all his effort for the morning in turning the alarm off and was now just letting his body mould back into the comfortable bed.

"Morning."

She waited a moment before the gruff responce of a sleepy mumble was muffled by the duvet, letting her eyes roll as she watched him move to have the pillows over his face and the duvet closer to him.

Knowing she wasn't going to be able to get him to move any time soon, she slipped out of bed, pulling a random pair of sweatpants over last nights dress before trying to walk to the kitchen to find the few aspirins left for help with the fog that clouded her brain whenever she stood up.

The flat had been left in an even more catastrophic state than usual, plastic shot glasses littered on the coffee table and kitchen counters.

Half an hour later, Graham wondered into the kitchen to find her staring off into space, a cup of cold coffee in her hands and yesterdays mascara dried onto her undereye .

"Nice night ?"

She dropped out of her own thoughts, finally blinking and looking over to where he stood with bed hair and tired eyes.

"I should ask you the same thing ."

Y/n got up from her seat, pouring the coffee in the sink and wondering off to the bathroom. He followed her, running his hand through his hair whilst trying to think of what is the best thing he could say, well what's less likely to get him sleeping on the couch for a week.

"Look I'm really, really sorry babe. You know I would've come if I could."

She turned around with a less than impressed expression on her face.

"That's the best you could come up with ?"

He paused at her reaction, before he carried in explaining.

"I got a last minute call, you know how it is."

"No Gray, I don't know how it is because I have to schedule everything around your little last minute things you get from this new management and the one time I ask you to do one thing, just come and sit in a seat at a chat show."

"I know"

She nodded, waiting for more.

“And I’m the worst boyfriend in the world for missing your interview.”

She rolled her eyes.

“And I won’t do it again ?”

She raised an eyebrow at that comment.

“Pinky promise ?”

She paused for a second, thinking through her options before replying with the vague

“I’m going having a bubble bath after last night, you’ve got till then to make it up to me.”

Her small smile contrasted her serious tone and Graham let out a small breath of relief as she spun into the bathroom,closing the door and letting the tub start running.

He immediately ran to the phone, calling the one memorised number and letting the device ring before speaking to the person on the other end of the line.

“Hiya Dames, yeah where did you get those flowers for Y/n’s birthday ?”

masterlist

#90s #britpop #blur #blur x reader #blur vs oasis #graham coxon x reader #graham coxon #graham coxon x fem!reader #blur x fem!reader

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