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songmingisthighs · 3 years

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[4.11] mafia!wooyoung × reader

⇀ you thought he didn't care, he was sure he doesn't, he had said it so himself to you. that was, until he almost lost the chance of being able to care for you.

⇁ tw : running away, mafia life (criminal/illegal acts)

⇁ part 1 / 2 / 3

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author's imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

At first, Wooyoung thought you had really ran away from him. After the fight you had the previous night, how could he not ?

"All I ask is a little bit of attention! I know you could spare some for me," you exclaimed, following after Wooyoung into the home office in his mansion. Yes, his, he never once said it was yours too so you treat it as such.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes at you, "and I ask you shut that big trap you called your mouth before I shut it for you, but we can't all get what we wanted now, can we ?" He spat.

You're used to his aggressive words, it used to hurt but now the pain just comes and goes. But you're at your wit's end, he was distant when you both were first forced into engagement but he was still polite so you thought that was just the shock, but now that you're married, things got worse.

"Wooyoung," you called, leaning both of your hands on his desk aa he sit on his office chair, "it's been 8 months since we got married," he glared at you when you said that, so you sighed and change your choice of words, "since we were force into marriage... But I've been trying so hard to make this less of a chore for both of us, I don't know what else I could do! You're not even bothering to hide the fact that you hate my guts to your very core even though it wasn't my fault that we got into this! Heck, you don't even bother to acknowledge that I exist!"

Wooyoung slammed his hands down on the table, standing face to face with you, "that's right," he chuckled darkly, "I don't even bother, you know why? Because you're nothing in my life, I never ask for you, I never wanted you, you're still here because your dad's business fell through with my dad and he used you as mean of escaping because that's all you are, princess," he leaned closer to your face and spoke through gritted teeth, "a worthless burden that people toss around,"

It would've been a lie if you said that his words doesn't affect you whatsoever. Because it does.

Maybe deep down that was one of your biggest fear and having someone confirmed that made you feel sick to your stomach. You recoiled from the table, as if having been struck across your face.

Though Wooyoung had a satisfied smirk on his face, "you should know I've been planning your assasination ever since you said 'I do', I would've made it look like an accident so that my dad wouldn't be up in my ass talking about losing his insurance of control over your dad, maybe I should move the schedule up so I can get rid of you quicker,"

You stared at him for a while, not knowing that he actually hated you that much. All this time you thought it was just petty reluctance of being tied to you, but this just brought things to a whole new level.

"No..." you choked out, trying to hold back tears, "I'll take care of it myself," and with that, you ran out of his office to pack all your belongings with tears streaming down your face.

And that was the last time Wooyoung had seen you. He had heard from one of his butlers that he had seen you running around the house retrieving your things where it supposedly was earlier, you looked frantic and you hadn't even taken a second to take a break.

"And did she got out of the house today?" Wooyoung asked from his position on the couch, loosening all of the buttons on his shirt. "No, master, not that any of us know of," said butler then leaned close to Wooyoung's ears, "the cctv has been cut off, her bodyguards are dismissed, no one has tended to her nor got close to her, and I personally see to it that all windows and doors are unlocked just as you had requested,"

Wooyoung couldn't believe that he's probably a free man now, that YOU had left him so that he wouldn't be in hot water with his father.

With a glass of whiskey in his hand, he decided to look around to see whether or not you had really left while telling his maid to prepare dinner for him.

True to what he expected, he made two laps around the mansion but not once did he find you. Not even in his office with a divorce paper, as dramatic as it sound.

He finally step into his shared bedroom with you to make his final confirmation.

At first he knocked on the door, not really knowing why he did that, but when no sound came from the room he simply opened the door and walked in. He hadn't returned the night before, spending half of his night in his home office before going out with San to a bar, not realizing that it was his guilt that drove him out to drink his memory away.

Looking around the room, he couldn't really tell whether or not you had ran away. The room looked like it had been slept in the night before, he could see the spot where you laid in comparison to his side that's perfectly neat.

When he stepped into the walk-in closet, he was quite surprised at the sheer contrast to the bedroom. Your clothes thrown haphazardly, it seems like you were urgently looking for things to pack, and the more he analyze the items on the floor, the more he realized that you hadn't taken anything that was bought with his money.

But that wasn't the thing that got his attention.

It was your wedding dress that had been taken out of its garment bag, across from it, an empty bottle of wine and a box of tissues with crumpled tissues surrounding it. It looked straight out of a movie.

He walked closer to the dress and trailed a hand down it.

He remembered seeing you wear it on your wedding day. He remembered being too pissed at his father to be able to fully appreciate how ethereal you looked. He remembered how when you looked at him, he could see the redness in your eyes, indicating that you had been crying.

But over all, he remembered how his heart skipped a beat when he saw you walking closer to him. Of course, he would never admit it outwardly.

His train of thought was broken when his butler knocked on his bedroom door, "master, dinner is served," he said.

Wooyoung cleared his throat and straighten out his posture, "yes, of course, I'll be there soon," he called out.

As the footsteps of his butler fade, he carefully zip your wedding dress back into its garment bag, making sure that the dress is stored perfectly.

After that, he went to the dining room to have his dinner.

Usually, you'd be seated in your seat, across from him at the other end of the table that seats 10 people. He'd have to admit that it feels weird not seeing you smile at him after a long day of working, but he forced himself to believe that it was a good kind of weird.

Strangely, as he eat his food he felt that it doesn't match his palate, that something feels off. So he called for his head butler and asked him about it.

"Did we change cooks? Why does today's dinner taste so bland?"

His butler seemed hesitant to answer him, looking at the head maid for a bit. The middle-aged woman stepped forward from her spot, bowing slightly to avoid Wooyoung's eyes, "we did not have any change in staffs, sir, it's just that the mistress used to prepare all of your meals and considering... the circumstances, she had not prepared anything for you," she said, not even bothering to hide her bitterness that he had drove you away.

Considerably, he was shocked that you had never brought the fact up to him. But as usual, he masked his true feelings and just nod at her, continuing with his meal even though he can't seem to enjoy it.

The shock didn't stop there, though.

Over the course of the first 5 days of you leaving him, he began noticing the things that indicate your presence in his house. Or used to indicate your presence.

He never knew that you were the one who always put flowers around the mansion. He noticed this when he passed by a vase of wilting aconite. It almost broke him when he see the maids cleared all flowers, leaving an empty vase that he now associate with your absence.

He never knew that you kept tabs on food he likes and dislikes. After 3 days, he gave up on eating the food his cook made for him, firing the poor man on the spot and resorting to take outs.

He never knew that you were the one who personally arrange his wardrobe. Usually, every morning he'd find his favorite shirts or favorite sets of clothes on the front, ready for him to pick out and wear. Now that you're not here, he had to spend extra time deciding what to wear.

And lastly, he was surprised at the fact that you had never made it to your hometown.

"What do you mean she's not with her parents?" He growled at his henchmen, making them visibly scared. "W-we tried looking for her, even asking around, but no one had seen her," he explained.

All Wooyoung wanted was to hear about how you're happier without him, how you've settled back to your life without him, how he'd be assured with the fact that you leaving him was the best thing that could ever happen to you two.

Feeling that he owed this for the sake of his own closure, he ordered everyone under him to find out your whereabouts.

The desperation suffocated him, he hated the feeling.

So he ran out of his office to his garden, going to the furthest side where it is practically abandoned so that he'd be all alone to calm his mind.

What he hadn't expect to see though, was several pieces of clothes on the ground. At first he just thought that the laundry might have flown away due to the wind, but when he inspected them closer, he recognized them as yours.

"Why would these be here?" He muttered to himself as he began picking up the scattered pieces of clothes one by one. When he picked up the last piece, he noticed your suitcase by the corner of the tall wall that surround his house for protection.

The sight that made his stomach drop was a rather huge hole that could fit a person.

Wooyoung's brain put 2 and 2 together and the only reasonable conclusion made him feel like blowing up.

You had been kidnapped.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez scenario #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #ateez au #ateez story #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #kpop imagines #ateez x reader #timestamp #ateez timestamp #kpop timestamps #smt timestamp

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twjournals · 3 years

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So Wrong It's Right

Sequel: What's Wrong is Right

Warning: dark!Peter Parker x reader, DUB-CON, manipulation, age gap, drinking

PLEASE READ MY WARNING BEFORE CONTINUING. I am not responsible for your media consumption. Any and all negativity will be blocked.

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: You're an old troubled friend of May's. Your life consists of being a workaholic, a party animal, and bringing home the shittest of guys for a one-hit-wonder. Just when you get your life in order, you're knocked right back into your old habits. Peter has watched you suffer long enough. He can make it all better.

Your life was far from where you thought you would be. It was sad to say, but you were anything but a role model. Yet May still tolerated you, regardless of Peter. Maybe she used you as an example to show Peter what not to be or maybe she was just too good of a friend to leave you on your own. To say the least, your life was a mess but you could not be more grateful to have a friend like May.

"Peter, go get me a wet rag, please," May spoke quietly. Peter left your side once he helped May get you over to the couch. You were beyond the limits that someone should be drunk.

You were in a fit of hiccups, giggling to yourself as May bent down to take off your heels. You had far too many drinks, that much was clear.

"Maaay, you.." you hiccupped, "are suuuch a good.." you hiccupped again, "friend."

May shook her head with a sigh, taking in the drunken sight of you. She was not sure how you managed to let yourself get this far gone, but every time you would drink, this is how you ended up. Either you had zero limits or you loved to push the limits you did have.

"Pet-" May started to call over her shoulder, but Peter was already hurrying in the room with his hands full.

"I'm here, Aunt May." Peter reminded and she watched as Peter sat the trash can nearby the couch. He then placed the bottle of water on the table with some medicine for the headache he knew would come with your awake in the morning. He kneeled down beside you on the couch, pressing the rag to your forehead.

May only smiled to herself as she pulled the blanket from its spot on the back of the couch and pulled it over your figure. She didn't say anymore. Peter had seen his Aunt May take care of you many nights when you were so shit-faced it was a wonder you could still see faces.

Your head was propped up against a pillow on the couch as Peter wiped your forehead with the cool rag. Your skin was burning up. Peter could not help but wonder how you let yourself get like this. You were quite a few years younger than May, but it amazed him how different the two of you were to be the best of friends.

You were fast asleep in no time, making Peter smile as his eyes gazed over your face. He had always thought you were so beautiful. Too precious to be taken advantage of by the guys you went after. He witnessed many nights when you had told Aunt May about a new guy you had hooked up with. Everyone knew it was nothing more than a one-night stand, but Peter could not help but hate any guys that touched you only for only their benefit.

It was not until you had eventually settled down with a guy you had met from one of your nightstands that you finally stopped ending up on May's couch. You had moved on with your life, still keeping in contact with May every now and then. You were happy. Not just the sex but he was truly seemed like a guy you could see yourself spending forever with.

You had stopped drinking. You had stopped going out to parties. After the first year, you had moved into the city and got an apartment together. Another year later, you guys were engaged and everything seemed to fall into place. After 3 years, the wedding was right around the corner.

Your world moved at a quicker pace now considering all the things you needed to get done before the wedding. In between work and house chores, you were planning for your big day.

As time went by, you were so wrapped up in your own little world you did not notice the slow-burning flame in your partner slowly being put out. While your plans had been coming together, your relationship was falling apart. You had for the most part ignored all the signs and assumed he was having a bad day. It amazed you how many he was having. When you would try to talk to him, it seemed useless since you could never get him to talk about it. In reality, it all brewed into something bigger. It all hit you like a ton of bricks.

You had been working later hours than usual for extra money. It wasn't cheap, but you had told yourself it was okay to want the things you wanted. After all, this was going to be your first and hopefully wedding. You wanted everything to be perfect. You even tried to get opinions from your fiance to include his vision of it, but he insisted you were better at this sort of thing. You couldn't argue with that.

You wrapped up your work at the office fairly early so you decided to call it a night and surprise your fiance. You felt like everything was on track. One night worry-free was much needed. You had earned it.

You pushed open the front door to your apartment before walking through the living room into the kitchen. You sit your keys on the counter, placing your bag on the stool by the counter. You peered around the apartment for a moment. All the lights were off and it was quiet. Had he already gone to bed? You checked the time.

7:13pm

You were surprised you did not hear his game or at least him yelling at it. You started down the hallway to the bedroom you shared, staring at the closed door. Why was it closed when it was just him? You shook the thought a little too soon. Maybe if you had just thought a little longer, you would have prepared yourself for what was on the other side.

You pushed the door open just a little to see inside when you heard a faint moan from the other side. Your heart stopped. You stood in shock taking in the sight of the man you were in love with hovered over another girl in your bed under your covers. Your face was hot in embarrassment, anger. You were feeling so many things right now you could not think straight. You were hurt.

"Are you serious??" You blurted out, causing them both to jump to try and cover themselves.

"You're sick, Chris." She shoved his chest, pushing him off of her as she quickly got out of the bed. "He told me you guys were no longer together."

She scowled as she hurried to gather her clothes off the floor and pulling them on. If it were even possible, your eyes could have burned holes through the girl. You were in disbelief. Your jaw would have already been on the floor if it wasn't connected to your face.

"I'm so sorry." She mumbled, embarrassed as she hurried past you out of your apartment.

You were left to deal with Chris. You starred at him with tears kissing your eyes.

"I-"

You took a deep breath, shaking your head. "Don't."

"I can explain." He started to get out of the bed to dress.

"There's nothing to explain, Chris." You stared at him, trying to restrain yourself from coming across the room and punching him in the face for acting like an explanation could even justify his actions.

"She meant nothing to me." He started to walk over to you.

“You told her we weren’t together. How is that nothing?”

“It felt like we weren’t. You were so busy.” He tried to touch your arm but you shoved his hand away.

"Don't you dare think about touching me when you were just touching another woman." You looked at him with dark eyes, struggling to fight back the cry. He wasn't worth your tears. "I want you to get out."

"Get out?! Where am I gonna go?"

"I don't know." You shrugged your shoulders. "Maybe you could have thought that through."

He frowned, running his fingers through his hair frustrated. "It doesn't have to be like this. Can't we just talk this out?"

"No!" You shouted at him, making his eyes grow wide. You could tell he wasn't telling this as seriously as you. "I don't want to look at you right now." You turn to leave the room, but he grabs your arms to turn you to face him.

"Please. Look, I can- I can stay on the couch tonight. I'll give you your space and when you're ready we can talk about it. I was wrong for that. I fucked up and I'm sorry." You yanked yourself from his hold.

"You can give me space by leaving. Pack yourself a bag and go."

"I love you, Y/n. I never meant to hurt you."

You shook your head as your eyes wandered over the bed to where they once were before meeting his eyes. "You mean you never meant to get caught."

He sighed before hanging his head in defeat and walking by you to gather up some of his things. You didn't move from your spot. Only stared at the mess of a bed. The place you made love to him while he made love to another. You listened to the front door close behind him on his way out before you finally covered your face, letting the tears fall.

For days, weeks, all you could seem to do was feel sorry for yourself. You couldn't find the strength to get out of bed. No matter how many calls you received, you let them ring through to voicemail. Everything you had felt for him was in ruins. You changed for him. You let yourself grow for him and even that wasn't enough. After all the time you spent picking up after him, cooking, cleaning, planning, staying loyal for crying out loud. You didn't know what else he could of you.

You had called off the wedding in the time you stayed closed up in your apartment. Even took some time off of work to handle it all. You took that time to gather every piece of him scattered around the apartment and packed it up. You wanted to end this as painless as possible aside from the pain you were already feeling. You had thrown away the sheets and replaced them, even get a new comforter and it still didn't feel the same anymore to lay in your bed. You stared at your phone beside you as it lit up for what felt like the hundredth time. You finally sighed, lifting the phone. You knew without even looking at the name it was from him.

You canceled the wedding? It doesn't have to be like this. I still love you, Y/n. You were so busy with work and all the planning. You abandon me. Whenever I wanted your attention, you were always too tired to pay any attention to me.

It's like the girl I fell in love with was gone. Some time ago, you couldn’t keep your hands off of me now it’s like I have to beg you to touch me.

You're being selfish.

You can't be THAT mad, Y/n. I’m a man. I have needs. You were busy and she was willing to help. We can fix this. Don’t give up 3 years. Don’t give up on me.

There were loads more, but you could not care to bother reading the rest. You tossed your phone back down on the bed, rubbing your hands over your face. You didn't owe him anything, not even a response. The girl he was talking about was not gone. She was only on hold to plan a wedding by herself and it was more stressful than he knew. You wanted to forget everything that had happened. You wanted to forget you wasted 3 years of your life planning on growing old with this man.

You weren't sure how you had got this far and with that being said, May wasn't either. You had talked May into joining you to a night out at a club. She needed a night to herself and you needed a break from everything. Along with that, if you had stayed inside that house a moment longer, you might have gone insane.

"You're going to be hammered if you keep on like that." May reminded with a laugh, both of you clinging onto the bar and each other for the extra support. You thanked the bartender as he pushed your last round of shot glasses in front of the two of you.

You smiled, passing a glass to May before keeping one for yourself.

"We can only hope." You winked at the bartender who only chuckled before clinking your shot glass with hers and downing your shot.

Your throat was already numb from all the alcohol you had already numbed it with. May wasn't far behind you. You took your final shot, grinning and pulling May along with you to the dancefloor to get lost in the sea of people. You threw your arms around May's, moving your hips as you both danced to the music.

This was the therapy you needed. Sometimes you had longed for nights like this. You had freedom. You had no worries, aside from worrying who you might wake up beside. But you had fallen in love and even though you had grown up, you had not nearly grown out of this lifestyle. It was all too familiar.

"Hey! I'm going to the bathroom! I'll be back!" May moved closer to you, raising her voice to be heard over the loud music. You nodded, watching her pushing her way through the crowd of people to get to the ladies' bathroom before easing yourself back into your dancing.

You swayed, grinding your hips with the rest of the crowd. You weren't the slightest bit bothered to be dancing by yourself. You used to lose yourself on the dancefloor for hours days after days years ago.

"I've missed this." You heard a familiar voice speak from behind you, startling you when their hands landed on your hips with your sway. They pulled you back against them, catching you off guard. "I've missed you." He mumbled in your ear, sending chills down your spine.

You peaked over your shoulder to make sure your mind was not playing tricks on you. It wasn't. You prayed it was an old one-night stand, but of course, it was the one person you were trying to get away from.

"It doesn't work like that, Chris." You dropped your hands down to his on your hips, trying to push them off your hips but they only hold you tighter. "Get- get off of me." You gritted through your teeth as your eyes glared at him. "Get off!" You raised your voice.

"Now, now, let's not cause a scene. You've had quite a bit to drink haven't you?" He wrapped your arms around your figure, making your blood run cold as his body pressed to yours.

"That's none of your business."

"I'm your fiance. You are my business."

"Ex." You corrected him. His nose flared slightly.

"You really want to go there? You're nothing without me. You're shit-faced in the middle of the club and you can't even accept my help?" He growled and you pushed on his arms.

"I don't need your help."

"You're drunk. You don't know what you need." He spat.

The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted your argument. "I think I've got it from here." You looked up to put a face to the voice, your eyes widening slightly.

"And you are?" Chris didn't budge while staring down Peter as if challenging him.

Peter was reaching his hand out for yours. "Her boyfriend." You stared up at Peter in shock at how much he had changed over the years and he smiled reassuringly.

Chris stiffed slightly and you could feel his eyes burning a hole into you. "Is that true?"

You didn't take your eyes off of Peter, taking a hold of his hand and letting him pull you out of Chris's arms. "Yes." Your voice was hushed.

Chris scowled. "Wow. I wish you luck there, man. She's a real catch." He laughed, making you look down. You couldn't believe he was really trying to ruin your night when he had already ruined everything else.

Peter only snaked his arm around your waist, letting his hand settle on your hip while his eyes never left Chris's. "She certainly is." He agreed. He gave your body a warm squeeze, grabbing you closer into his embrace. "Now, if you'll excuse us."

With that, he guided you through the crowd off of the dance floor.

"You okay?" He finally broke the silence once he got you back to the bar, sitting you down on one of the stools.

You nodded, letting your eyes wander up to him as he motioned the bartender over. "I'm just curious as to why you're here right now. Aren't you supposed to be in college?"

He smiled as he pulled out his wallet to pay your tab and you grabbed his hand, shaking your head. "No, no. I can pay for my own."

"What if I insist?"

"You don't have to, honestly. I have money."

You started to reach into your purse for some cash but Peter covered your hand, giving you another reassuring smile.

"You'll have plenty of other times to pay. I'll get it this time." He reminded you and you sighed in defeat, giving him a playful scowl. He only grinned, proceeding to pull some cash from his wallet to give to the bartender.

"You didn't answer my question." You continued as he turned back to you.

"I'm still college. I just sometimes stay with Aunt May on the weekends."

"And you just so happened to be here?"

Peter chuckled, pointing in May's direction as she stumbled over her feet returning back to the two of us. "Aunt May called."

You raised your eyebrow, looking over at May as she stood beside you now. "You called Peter?"

"Someone has to get you back home." She reminded you and you hit her arm slightly, tilting your head.

"May, I could have got a taxi or an uber. You didn't have to call him for me." You scowled at her and she shook her head in a tsking manner.

"No, no, no. I called Peter so I can rest assured you got home safely and not by some random stranger."

You rolled your eyes slightly and Peter butted in with an awkward chuckle. "I really don't mind. I don't consider this anything out of the way. I'd rather it be me than some stranger or someone." He noticed him giving the floor a swift scan around the three of you.

"Fine." You pouted your bottom lip slightly before rising from your seat at the bar. "You guys make me feel irresponsible or something." You grabbed a hold of May's arm and pulling her with you to the exit of the club while Peter followed behind the two of you.

"Are you coming?" You muttered over to May and she shook her head.

"Happy is here." Just as the words left her mouth when you started out the door, you spotted Happy parked in front of the building to pick up May. "Peter isn't too bad of a driver." You stopped in front of Happy's car.

"Oh goody, rest secured." You muttered and she laughed. Your arms looped around May's neck, hugging her tight. "I'm so glad to have you back. Message me when you get home." You told her and Happy a quick goodnight before letting her go.

Peter led you over to his car, unlocking the car and opening the passenger side for you. You settled comfortably in the front seat, leaning your head back against the headrest. You didn't like how it felt as if you couldn't take care of yourself, but you were in no position to complain when Peter Parker had yet again saved the day.

Peter glanced over at you in the passenger seat from time to time as he drove the distance to your apartment. He tried to keep the glances quick to keep you from noticing. You were just as beautiful as he remembered. It had been years since he had actually seen you, but you seemed like the Y/n he still remembered. Not that it was anything bad. He adored you then, and now a bit more.

He had always had the hots for you for as long as you remembered. Of course, you never minded when you ended up staying with him and Aunt May. You were always kind to Peter and he did his best to nurse you back to health to take on the hangover that awaited you the next morning.

He had never forgotten what you said to him one day while you were sick from the night before. You had been clinging onto the toilet and he had taken the opportunity to hold your hair back out of your face to keep from getting anything in it.

You sighed as he rubbed your back in soothing circles. You leaned against the toilet miserably. That was the day you learned to stay away from tequila.

"I hope I meet a guy at least half as amazing as you someday, Peter."

No doubt did the compliment find its way to his cheeks. He blushed a deep shade of red. He tried to restrain himself from making a big deal but it was a big deal to him. Though he knew he didn't stand a chance right now with his age, it meant if he had been of age, he had a chance. He thought about it even when you had stopped coming around so much. He knew this was all a coping method for you. You were hurting then and he could tell by the way you seemed toward the guy back there that there was more to that counter.

He noticed your shiver as you stared out the window. You mentally cursed yourself for wearing something this revealing. You rubbed your arms to try to warm yourself a little. Peter reached behind him in the back seat to retrieve a hoodie of his he always forgot in the car and handing it to you.

"Here." He offered before fumbling with the heat in the car. He smiled at your quiet thank you, putting your arms in the hoodie and pulling it close for warmth with putting it all the way on. He tried to control the big grin threatening to break across his face.

"I'm sorry you had to keep seeing me like this." You looked over at Peter as he kept his eyes on the road. He didn't realize how thankful you were for him in times like this. It was embarrassing how many times this had happened but you were still thankful Peter didn't think any less of you.

"You really don’t have to apologize.” He smiled at her before turning his attention back to the road.

“I really do though. I feel like you’ve taken care of me enough. I’m grown, you know? It should be the other way around.” You giggled and Peter glanced over at you.

“I’m 21.” He reminded you.

“And I’m pushing 30.”

“You’re 28. You’re still young.” He chuckled.

“Almost 29!” You huffed as he pulled into the parking lot to your apartment. “My point is- you know what my point is.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at your frustration. Your age didn’t matter to him. He could always settle for his MJ, his best friend, but seeing you tonight relit the flame to his crush for you. There was just something about you.

He parked the car in the parking lot, walking around to your side to open the door for you. You slid your arms out of his hoodie and leaving it in the seat as he helped you out of the car. You could feel the shots hitting you all at once when you stood. You stumbled out in your heels, grabbing onto Peter’s arms for support.

“Easy now.” He held onto your waist as he guided you to your apartment, asking for your keys. He took your keys when you dug them out of your pocket, letting you in your apartment.

You couldn’t help but notice all the little things he did for you. You kicked off your heels at the door, stumbling over your own two feet again as you wandered down the hallway to your bedroom. You could hear Peter in the kitchen getting you a bottle of water from the fridge along with some medicine from the medicine cabinet.

You sat on the bed when you hear his footsteps coming down the hallway toward the bedroom. You looked up at him, pouting your bottom lip out slightly when you saw him with a bottle of water and medicine for the headache to come.

He set them down on your nightstand, noticing your pout. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Peter, you’re seriously too good to me.” You sighed.

“How’s that?” He looked down at you as he towered over you.

You motioned over to the stuff he had placed on your nightstand and frowning. “All of this. You- you really didn’t have to do this for me.”

“You’re right I don’t. But I want to. I would want it done for me if I were ever in your shoes.”

You laughed slightly at the thought of Peter drunk and you smiled to yourself. “I would definitely be there anytime you needed me.”

You thought back to all the time you had ever been drunk, remembering all the time you woke up to water and medicine from him. Only from him. Even a trash can in case you were to ever get sick, but you never got that with Chris. You always took care of him, but no one ever took care of you. You shook your head with a frown. You had tried so hard to hold it together, but it felt like you were slowly falling apart. He wasn't worth your tears, yet he was always the cause of them.

He kneeled down in front of you, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Talk to me. Everything okay?”

You couldn’t stop the words from coming out. “Why am I never enough?”

His eyes widened at your words. “You are more than enough and anyone who doesn’t see that, who doesn’t appreciate you and the things you do for them doesn’t deserve you.” He corrected you, his thumb stroked over your jaw as he held your face to keep your attention.

You didn't know what to say. All you could do was stare. Your eyes scanned over his face before stopping at his lips. Don't. Don't you do it. You mentally told yourself. You couldn't control the effect the alcohol had on your mind and your actions. You tried to fight back the urge but the alcohol only pushed down the buriers you had built.

Your lips smashed against his firmly, catching him by surprise. He was frozen about your lips for a first, in shock, this was actually happening but he surely gave in the kiss. Your hands grabbed at the back of his neck and pulling him onto the bed with you without breaking the hungry desperate kiss. His body hovered over yours as your fingers curled against his shirt, gripping on it. You knew it was wrong. It was so wrong, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

Your smaller hands slid underneath his shirt, brushing your hands over his defined abs. He was sculpted by a God. He knew he should stop, but he couldn't find it in him to stop. He didn't want to miss his chance to prove himself to you. He wanted to take care of you.

Your lips parted for air even though you left like you could hardly catch your breath when his lips started to kiss down your neck. Your hands tugged on his shirt until you started to pull it up and over your head.

His hands pushed your tight dress up the curves of your body, tossing it beside the bed once he peeled it from your body. Your lips still tingled from the loss of his and you whined quietly, your hand grasped the curls at the nape of his neck to bring his lips back to yours.

He kissed your lips passionately and letting your lips mold together. He could taste the alcohol on your tongue but it didn't bother him any. He had dreamed of this moment since he was a teen. Your fingers worked desperately to undo his jeans, feeling his bulge already through his pants before your hands pushed his pants off of his hips along with your boxers.

You were so desperate. You couldn't stop the whine that escaped against his lips. "Peter, please..." His cock twitched at the sound of his name falling from your lips.

He dragged your panties down your legs swiftly, placing himself back between them when he spread them open again. He peppered light kisses to your lips as he dragged the tip of precum-coated tip through your folds, not wasting any time to give you what you wanted.

You cried out as you clung to Peter's bareback, feeling his cock stretching you in all the ways you craved. You moaned out, letting him swallow them in a kiss as his hips rolled into yours again and again. He sighed in pleasure against your lips as your walls invited him in. You were even better than he could have imagined.

He couldn't believe this was actually happening. His lips covered your body in his kisses, admiring every part of your body as it sang for him. This was nothing like what you used to. He pressed small kisses against your bottom lip, nibbling on it as your core ached with a building climax. Your legs wrapped around his hips, causing you to gasp at the deeper strokes.

Your head fell back against the pillows, a loud moan drawing from your parted lips. Your fingers held onto Peter's hair as he hit that spot over and over, making your eyes roll slightly. You needed so badly for him to stop, but you couldn't bring the words to the surface.

"Oh my god..." Your core tightened with every deep thrust. His cock touched parts of you no guy had ever. You had never felt a climax so fast or so strong. "Please don't stop..." You couldn't fight the words from coming out. Your grip tightened on his dark hair, feeling yourself falling apart with an orgasm with every thrust.

"You're so pretty when you cum." He couldn't stop even if he wanted to. He was not far behind you by the way your walls sucked him in, milking him for all he was worth.

"Do it again. I want to make you cum again." He groaned against your chest as his tongue dragged over your hardened nipple, flicking his tongue against it teasingly before letting out a groan against your warm skin. He didn't want it to stop. He didn't want it to end. "You feel so good, Y/n..."

His hand reached between the two of you, rolling his fingers over your clit in circles. You gripped onto his wrist at the overpowering feeling. You were soaked to the core. This man made you crumble.

"I-I'm gonna cum.." His voice cracked slightly as your walls clenched around him tight In your second orgasm, pushing him over the edge into his first. His cum filled you full, marking you as he pressed delicate kisses across your neck while praising you in the process. "So beautiful, so perfect."

Your eyes were heavy with exhaustion, smiling to yourself when Peter laid down on the bed behind you. He wrapped an arm around your body, pulling you back against his chest.

It only took a matter of seconds for sleep to claim you as Peter pulled a blanket over the both of you tiredly. It was only a matter of time before the morning came to rain on your parade. Bringing along the guilt and regret that followed.

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter x reader #dark!marvel #tom holland fan fic #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker #dub con #peter parker one shot #dark!tom holland

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sdr2lovemail · 3 years

Note

I just noticed that you are alive again! So um.. I've been thinking for QUITE a while of a relationship Ultimate Impostor x Ultimate Leader (in the killing game ig?), idk why. If the requests are closed feel free to ignore this. Thank you!

You could say that I am a fan of Imposter's work. Even tho there is not a lot of content about them out there I still love them dearly.

And yes I died for a minute but have risen from the grave to continue my writing career. I hope you enjoy what I have written my friend because I absolutely love it.

⚔Mod Peko⚔

Spoilers for chapter 1

The Ultimate Imposter disguised as Byakuya Togami and the Ultimate Leader butt heads but also kinda wanna kiss each other

Teenagers and a killing game are bound to fall into chaos. Teenagers, a killing game, and no supervision will cause more chaos. That’s why they need a leader. Someone strong and brave to guide them. However two ultimates wanting to be that leader, teenagers, a killing game, and no supervision will cause even more chaos.

Breakfast was a usually calm time. Everyone just wanted to eat and get on with finding a way off this forced school trip. However there were some mornings where everyone seemed to be full of energy. Akane and Nekomaru were engaged in a fierce 1v1 training session. Chairs, tables, and food flying throughout the air from the power of their moves. The restaurant was in total disarray and with your talent of being a leader you must do something to calm the crowd. Standing up you set your arms behind your back and call out to your classmates.

“Everyone! This is-”

“Sit down, common folk. You will all cease this foolish behavior and stop wasting food.”

“Huh?”

At the mention of wasting food Akane quickly stops her fighting. She then pulls up a table and chair from the mess of the restaurant and begins to chow down. You look at where the voice came from and see Twogami sitting at a table with a plate. Just because this guy is loaded he thinks he can be a better leader than you? Oh you will just have a quick word with him to set the record straight. With quick strides you tap him on the shoulder giving him your best stern look. This look helped you strike the feeling of order into people. But Twogami doesn’t look impressed at all?! No you can’t let him see you falter. Standing up straighter than ever you begin to speak.

‘Hey what’s the big idea? I’m the Ultimate leader. I don’t need your help guiding our class.” You told him with a grim expression. Twogami gave you a look over before setting down his fork. He wipes his mouth off with a napkin before standing to face you. His intimidation factor was off the charts. Can money buy such a scary aura?! After adjusting his glasses he begins to speak with a sigh.

“Listen I, Byakuya Twogami, am much better suited to be in charge. You may have your impeccable wits and title but that is nothing compared to being next in the Togami line. Now are we done here? I would like to finish my food”

Not even giving you a chance to respond he goes right back to eating. Even with your ultimate status this guy intimidates you a lot. But you will not be backing down. He thinks he’s so high and mighty you’ll show him high and mighty.

The days feel like they’re getting heavier. Monokuma’s annoying voice rings in your ears. There’s no way you’d believe that memory loss garbage….And even if you did, you had to stay strong for everyone. Twogami’s party did nothing to calm the tense feeling in the air. You decided you were going to check this abandoned building from top to bottom before anyone steps foot inside.

You do not see Nagito when you first step in. Maybe he’s cleaning somewhere else. Teruteru was said to be in the kitchen. Entering the main room of the building you see Twogami rifling through what looks to be a metal case. Hearing the floors creak under your weight he looks over. Upon seeing you he sends a glare.

“And what are you doing here? I don’t remember you having to prepare anything.” There was a doubtful tone to his voice. Twogami was trying to let this party go off without a hitch. And he wasn’t going to let some commoner ruin his plans. Though behind the rich boy costume Imposter did feel kinda bad. They felt like they were trampling all over your pride with their Byakuya act. However this was their ultimate. And as Twogami….No. Just as themself, if that even existed, they will keep their classmates safe. Even if they have to hurt some feelings.

“As a leader it is my duty to keep everyone in order and assure maximum safety. I plan to do a total sweep of the place before the party.” And like he did to you, you did not give him a chance to answer. You quickly turn around and exit out into the hallway missing the look of awe on Twogami’s face. Walking past the fire door you come up to the kitchen. Before you can reach for the door it swings open revealing Nagito. Strange….If Teruteru was already in the kitchen there was no need for Nagito to be in there. The lucky student passed by with a smile yet spoke no words towards you. Also strange. Nagito usually said something when passing. He deemed it rude not to say hello to an ultimate.

Entering the kitchen you see Teruteru at the counter. He doesn’t seem to notice you coming in. The usual smile on his face is replaced with a look of fear and he’s shaking like a leaf. Stepping closer seems to have caught his attention as he jumps. The look of fear is swiftly changed into a smile yet he’s still shaking. Teruteru then grabs a knife and begins chopping at some vegetables. Seems as if he’s trying to make it seem like he was simply taking a break.

“W-Why hello there. Heh, what could I do for you?” He’s shaken up quite a bit. Not a single flirty remark in that sentence and Teruteru sure did like to tease about your strong authority. You stand tall and look down at the chef. He visibly shrinks back. Looking him dead in the eye you start to command him.

“You will tell me what you have discussed with Nagito Komaeda.”

This caused Teruteru to tense up. Setting down the knife he grabs a comb from his pocket and begins to bring it through his hair. Though there isn’t a hair out of place on his pompadour. Appears to be a nervous habit.

“I uh….I have no idea what you mean mon ami~. We were simply discussing plans for the upcoming party.” Teruteru had tried to come off as collected but you knew better. He wasn’t making eye contact and he was constantly fidgeting. Nagito told him something and you were going to find out what.

“Teruteru Hanamura! I command you to tell me what Nagito had told you. Simple party plans would not have such an impact on your demeanor.”

This seemed to have caused a reaction in him. He began to blubber as words poured out of his mouth like a dam cracking under pressure.

“He came in here and told me that he had plans to murder someone at the party with the knife he had hidden under one of the tables in the dining room. He planned to overload the breaker in here with irons in the storage room to cause a blackout so he could grab the knife and kill someone during the party. I-I begun to form my own plan of stopping him….by….killing him?” The last part of his word vomit stuck with Teruteru. He would’ve had someone’s blood on his hands and would send the rest of his class to their own demise. “Oh my god I was going to kill him!” Teruteru then sinks to his knees before you.

Your face softens as you see the mess of a chef on the ground. Nagito was planning a murder? Why would he share this information with Teruteru? Dropping down to his level you set a careful hand on Teruteru’s back. “Listen. I’m going to go grab Twogami and you’re going to tell him what happened. And we’ll come up with a solution.” You normally wouldn’t call for backup, but as this was his party you felt he had the right to know.

You cautiously leave the kitchen and begin to look for the blond. Not able to find him in the building you exit to the hotel grounds. Noticing the while suit and blonde hair you call out to him and ask for him to come back. Leading him to the kitchen where Teruteru still sits slumped on the ground he listens to what you already know.

A look of disgust crosses Twogami’s face before he sets off to the main room. After announcing your departure to Teruteru, you follow him. Nagito is there setting up tables and dusting the furniture. He was about to offer the two of you a cheerful greeting but is cut off by your demand for him to exit the grounds. Not wanting to upset an ultimate that is clearly in higher ranks than he is, Nagito does not question it. He leaves the abandoned building to rest in his cottage to wait for permission to be allowed back in.

Looking under the tables you find the knife that Teruteru had mentioned. Grabbing it proceeds to coat your hand in wet paint. So Nagito had just planted this. But what’s the paint for?

“Set the knife in the duralumin case I brought on the left. I am currently using it to store anything I deem unsafe.”

You let out a scoff before setting the knife in the case. He sure does love bossing people around even in dire situations. Well….I guess that’s your talent so you can’t really speak. After doing a check of the rest of the tables, Twogami walks up to you with something in his hand. It’s a handkerchief with the Togami family crest. Imposter spent many hours perfecting the stitching of the symbol. You give him a confused look about the offering. Seeing the expression he rolls his eyes.

“Close your mouth before flies start to swarm. This is to wipe your hand off. I don’t need paint smears ruining the image of my party.”

“What? I can’t wipe paint on something as expensive as that. That handkerchief probably cost more than my house. I’ll just go wash it in the bathroom.”

Upset by your stubborn nature, Twogami grabs your wrist and begins to wipe the paint off himself. After your hand is clean he drops the cloth into your hand. “I expect that to be washed before it’s returned to me. Now I have some important matters to discuss.”

Stuffing the handkerchief into your pocket you give Twogami your full attention.

“I have decided that after this little incident we need to up the security. I would ask Nekomaru but I wish to keep this between us. Letting the public know that two people were planning a murder would cause chaos. When it’s time for the party you will help me conduct body searches. I’d like for you to keep an eye on the party with me to make sure no suspicious activity is at play.”

While normally you would make a fuss about him bossing you around with people’s lives at stake it was simply not the time for that. Nodding once he finishes speaking, you and Twogami complete one last look of the place before the party starts.

It’s time for the party and the two of you are set up outside of the abandoned building. After checking everyone and confiscating anything deemed dangerous, the party is in full swing. Everything is going smoothly. 11:30 was nearing and at the corner of your eye you see Nagito inch closer to the table. Knowing you shut the irons off you pay this no mind. There’s no way he’d try to pull anything when everyone can see him. A quick look of confusion crosses his face as the lights are still on. The confused expression is swapped for one of despair. There’s a creepy smile on his face and his eyes are clouded. Even if the blackout did not occur Nagito can still pull through with his plan.

He suddenly flips the table cloth over and goes to reach for his knife. Everyone at the party has eyes on him. Before he can fully register that his knife is in fact missing Nagito is pushed to the ground. His arms are pressed against his back and his face is squished into the floor. Multiple confused cries echo throughout the dining hall. Nagito recognized this tactic. After hours upon hours of researching the ultimates he’s sharing a class with he could easily tell that this was your work.

Twogami with Nekomaru in tow walks over to you and the detained lucky student. An agitated expression is on the heir’s face. He looks down at Nagito.

“You dare to think that I would let your plan continue? [Name] and I knew about your scheme and were quick to put a stop to it. And the fact that you would try to pull through with it in broad light is despicable.”

Anger, disgust, and confusion are present in the crowd of your classmates. Trying to make sense of it all Akane speaks up.

“I’m so friggin’ confused. What plan did Nagito have? Need me to beat him up for ya?”

You were quick to diminish the violent thought. “No, that will not be necessary as he has already been disarmed.”

“Nagito had planned out a murder.”

Twogami’s words caused a commotion in the dining hall. After hearing the noise from the kitchen, Teruteru cautiously enters the room fearing the worst. Though a feeling of relief washed over him after seeing Nagito on the ground.

Nekomaru lets out a strangled noise. His teeth are clenched and his fists tightened.

“You were going to murder one of your classmates? THAT’S INEXCUSABLE! Please [Name] allow me to detain him somewhere away from everyone. SOMEONE LIKE HIM CANNOT WALK FREEEEE!”

Looking over to Twogami as if silently discussing what to do he sends you a nod. Removing Nagito from your grasp he is quickly put into Nekomaru’s. The coach is quick to remove him from the premises. With a sigh Twogami faces your classmates. Pushing his glasses up he begins to apologise.

“I am sorry you all had to see that. And I am sorry that my exquisite party must draw to a close here. Exit the building and head to your cottage for the night.”

Though shaken, everyone proceeds to leave in groups. No one wants to walk back alone fearing that someone will try something. With just you and Twogami left he turns to face you.

“That was quite impressive. What you did back there was helpful in getting Nagito detained. I believe that we should come to an agreement. Yes we are fine separately but together I feel that we could do an outstanding job at keeping everyone safe.”

Twogami extended a chubby hand out for you to shake. This handshake would seal the two of you into a partnership. One of which would keep your class safe. Looking from his hand to his face then back to his hand you sit there in thought. This could be a wonderful idea. With two people working together that’s like double the safety. With a smile you shake his hand giving it a tight squeeze.

“I think I’d like that Twogami! From here on out the two of us are now Jabberwock Island’s health and safety committee.”

#ultimate imposter x reader #danganronpa x reader #imposter x reader #byakuya twogami x reader #ultimate imposter #byakuya twogami #super danganronpa goodbye despair #danganronpa #danganronpa imagine #sdr2 x reader #sdr2 #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa imagines #x reader #insert an original name here #Jabberwock Island Health and Safety Committee

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babybluebex · 3 years

Text

the proposal [tom holland x reader]

➽ pairing: ceo!tom holland x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 3.9k ➽ summary:your pushy boss forces you, his assitant, to marry him in order to keep his visa status and avoid deportation. ➽ warnings: forced marriage?? except not really?? ➽ a/n: this is loosely based off the sandra bullock movie of the same name which i recommend you watch bc it’s good classic rom com, but i just see tom being a dickhead and bodying this

I gasped as hot coffee spilled down my front, and I looked at the mail cart that had run into me. “Sorry,” the person steering the cart shrugged, and he continued on his way, totally unaware that he had just ruined my day. I gritted my teeth and looked down at my black-coffee stained shirt, knowing that my boss would be out of his morning coffee, had I not ordered a second. I always ordered a second coffee in case a disaster like this occurred. Mr. Holland could be just awful sometimes, and I only made the mistake of forgetting his coffee once.

The door to the office opened, and I looked to see my boss striding in. Mr. Thomas Holland was one of the foremost editor-in-chiefs in the world, and he was deserving of it. While he was a great editor-in-chief, he was the meanest man I had ever met. He expected everything to be just his way and, if they weren’t, he would work to make it that way. Past assistants had been fired for less than forgetting a coffee.

I followed him into his office for his morning briefing, and a single sculpted eyebrow lifted at the stain on my shirt. “Rough morning, Y/N?” he asked with a laugh. I kept my comments to myself and handed him his coffee, and he sat down at his desk.

“You could say that, sir,” I mumbled. “You have a meeting at eleven, and Penguin needs that manuscript by tomorrow--”

“Who is Jake?” Mr. Holland asked suddenly. “And why does he want me to call him?”

I stopped talking and noticed my boss staring at the coffee that was at first mine, and my face went pale. Written on my cup was the name of the barista that made my coffee every morning, along with his phone number. Mr. Holland looked at me, expecting an answer, and the look in his blue eyes made me want to puke. “Oh,” I stuttered. “That is-- He’s--”

“Do I want to know?” Tom asked.

“No, it’s better if you don’t,” I replied. “Um, also, you got a call from Immigration Services last night. They need you to come in and do some paperwork.”

“I sent it in last week,” Tom said cooly, taking a sip of coffee.

“Not according to them,” I said. “Umm… Can I ask a question, sir?”

“You just did,” Tom said. His dark eyes stared deep into me, and I held down my shiver.

I sighed. “You know what I mean,” I said. “I thought you were a citizen?”

“Nope,” Tom replied, popping his lips. “I’m in America on a work visa. What time do they want me to come in?”

“They said ‘at your earliest convenience’,” I told him.

Tom sighed. “Let’s go get this over with,” he mumbled. “Umm… You might want a change of clothes.”

I looked down at my stained shirt and huffed out a frustrated grunt, and Tom scoffed. “Alright, then,” he chuckled plaintively, his London accent rolling off of his tongue. I wasn’t blind, I knew that my boss was attractive— a strong jaw that was always clean shaven, brown eyes that shifted golden in the right light, and dark hair, usually styled down with just the ends showing their true curly nature. He was tall and built like a Greek god, and his wonderful accented voice would have been appealing if the words he said with it didn’t cut right through me. Some would say Mr. Thomas Holland was mean; others would say he was blunt. I would say he’s just a dick. “Don’t have to get so worked up.”

“I—“ I began and sighed. “I don’t have a change of clothes.”

Tom cocked his head thoughtfully. “Have you ever seen The Bodyguard?” he asked. When I didn’t respond, he said, “It’s a show on the BBC, I should have known you wouldn’t have seen it.” With that, he pulled off his jacket and draped it against his desk chair, and he loosened his tie around his neck.

“Mr. Holland, what are you doing?” I asked quickly, jerking forward to stop him.

He looked at me with those honey eyes as he set his tie on his desk. “I am giving you the shirt off of my back,” he said. “Like the kind soul I am.”

I nearly protested, but I knew that he had a spare; I had brought it from the dry cleaners two days ago. I searched for something to say to him as he disrobed, and the sight of his bare chest made me say “Thank you. It is very kind.”

“Most would say uncharacteristic,” Tom said, handing his shirt. The hand clutching his shirt had a shining watch on the wrist, and, while the sight was enticing, it only served to remind me of how late we were going to be. The shirt was still warm from him having worn it, and he crossed the room to retrieve his spare from the storage closet.

“Most would,” I agreed. I pulled my blazer off and began to undo my shirt, but I felt as if Tom was staring at me. I looked over my shoulder to him, already doing up the buttons on his shirt, and his eyes lifted to mine.

“Do you need help, Y/N?” Tom asked, a snide bite to his words.

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Can you…” I started. “Ya know, turn around?”

Tom scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Americans are so prudish,” he said. “I undressed in front of you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but it’s different,” I said. “Just close your eyes, something, please.”

Tom laughed lightly, and he made a show of covering his eyes with his hands. “Is that better?”

I rolled my eyes. It would have to be good enough. I pulled my shirt off and exchanged it for his and, once I was fully dressed again, I said, “Alright. Thank you.”

“Great,” Tom said and uncovered his eyes. “Are you ready to go now?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Sure.”

Once we arrived at the Immigration office, Tom was brought in almost immediately, and he had me come in to take notes. A secretary’s job is never done, I guess. I stood by the door as he sat before the officer, and I watched the scene unfold before me.

“Mr. Holland, you’re here on a work visa,” the officer began. “Which means you’re not allowed to leave the country.”

“Yes,” Tom said, and he raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And you went to an international book fair…” the officer began as he shuffled some papers around. “In Germany, last month.”

Tom scoffed and flipped his tie in annoyance. “It was for my job,” he said. “Can’t I go to work functions?”

“Not when it violates the rules of your visa,” the officer said. “Because you violated those rules, you have to leave the country and go back to your home country for one year.”

Tom straightened in his seat suddenly and gave a laugh. “I can’t do that,” he said seriously. “I can’t work from a different country for a full year. I’d lose my job.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Holland, but it’s federal law,” the officer said. “The only way you can stay in the country is if you get married by the end of this month, and--”

I had worked for Thomas Holland for a long time. I knew him well. I knew what shampoo he used, what pants size he wore, and, most importantly, I knew what he looked like when he got an idea. His chin went up, his shoulders went back, and he smiled. He rarely smiled, at least where I was concerned. “Um, yeah, w-what if I am getting married?” Tom asked. “What-What then?”

“Well, it would have to be filed appropriately and the service would need to be witnessed,” the officer said. “But, if everything was legal, you would be allowed to stay in the country.”

Tom turned around to look at me and he gestured for me to step closer. “C’mere, darling,” he said, and his honey eyes widened at me. “Don’t be shy, c’mon.” He turned back to the officer and gave a smile to him. “She’s so shy, it’s adorable.”

I stepped closer to him, and Tom stood up and wrapped his arm around my waist. I was confused as hell about what he was doing, but it clicked when he captured my chin between his forefinger and thumb and planted a quick kiss to my mouth. Oh fuck. If he was fired, I would be out of a job too. I needed Tom to stay in the country, which meant that he had to get married. And who better to marry than somebody who already knows everything about you? Fuck. That’s me. “You two?” the immigration officer asked. “Is she not your secretary?”

“She is, yes,” Tom said, and he laughed nervously. “But it wouldn’t be the first time that someone fell for their secretary, would it?” He then gave a deep laugh, and I quickly giggled to ease the tension. “Yes, no, but… Y/N and I are getting married. We were planning on a spring wedding-- you know how girls and spring weddings are-- but we could fast-track it, if it keeps me here… With her.”

The immigration officer raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he said. “Where is your ring?”

I looked down at my hands, certainly missing an engagement ring. “Oh, umm…” I began. “Well, you see, we don’t want our coworkers to know yet. Seeing as I’m being promoted to editor, we thought it would be inappropriate for our relationship to be… Known to the office. I have a ring, but I don’t wear it.”

“Yes, editor…” Tom began and looked at me, a flash of annoyance crossing his face for just a moment. “Sure, yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Alright, Ms. Y/L/N,” the immigration officer began. “You do understand that, if you are caught in a lie, it’s five years in a federal prison?”

I nodded and gave a tight smile. “Good thing we’re not lying.”

I watched Tom as we left the building and, once we were outside, I stopped walking. “Wanna explain that?” I called.

Tom stopped and turned on his heel, his phone already pressed to his ear. “What is it?” He asked. “I’m on a call.”

I huffed and pulled his phone away. “Mr. Holland has business to attend to,” I said. “He’ll call back.” I hung up and shoved the phone into my pocket, and I crossed my arms. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Tom asked, and I gestured back to the building with a huff. “Oh. It’s the only way for me to stay in the country and keep my job. We’ll get a legal marriage by the end of the month, then, when the appropriate amount of time passes, I’ll set up a quickie divorce and you can forget that this funny little thing ever happened.”

“What if I don’t want to get married?” I asked. “What about my boyfriend?”

Tom scoffed. “As if you have a boyfriend.”

“Hey!” I cried. “You don’t know that!”

“You wake up at four in the morning, every morning, in order to get ready and get my breakfast,” Tom rattled off. “You work from eight to four every day, most times until five. You are on call at all times; your phone never rings twice before you answer it, especially if I am calling you. You bring me food at one in the morning if I need it. No boyfriend would be okay with a work schedule like that. So, Y/N, unless you have any other unfounded issues with this, I suggest we start to learn things about each other that an engaged couple would know.”

“No.”

“No?” Tom repeated.

I smiled sweetly. “Ask me nicely.”

“Ask you what?” Tom asked with a grimace.

“Ask me nicely to marry you,” I said.

Tom gave me a look of boredom, and he rolled his eyes before he took my hand. “Will you please marry me?” He asked, his voice full of sarcasm.

“No, no,” I said. “Down on one knee. You’re an Englishman, Mr. Holland, have some manners, for God’s sake.”

“Y/N--” Tom began.

“I wonder what airfare is like to London,” I began. “And moving all your stuff over there, it’ll take forever.”

Tom sighed heavily, and he looked around us at the busy New York street corner. “Damn it, Y/N,” he mumbled, and he worked himself down to kneel on one knee. “Y/N, my love, my sun, my moon, my stars, my darling girl. Provider of late-night sushi and witty comebacks. Will you please marry me, with cherries on top?”

I chuckled lightly. “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, but yes,” I said. “I will marry you… Tom.”

“Well, thank God you’re on time.”

“I know, it’s shocking,” I chirped. “It’s almost as if I haven’t been reminding you of appointments for the past few years.”

Tom gave a shallow laugh and welcomed me into his apartment. I had been a few times-- he didn’t call me ‘provider of late-night sushi’ in his proposal for nothing-- but never long enough to take in the place. It was nice, a lot nicer than the apartment I lived in. In my apartment, I could extend my arms all the way and touch either side of my living space.

“We have a lot of work to do,” Tom said. He wore mostly the same outfit from the day, sans the jacket and tie and the first two buttons on his shirt. It yawned open to expose his chest, dusted with thin, light hair, and, under normal circumstances, I would have liked the sight. Absolutely nothing about this was normal, though. “We have to learn enough about each other to pass the questionnaire that the immigration department is giving us.”

“Won’t be hard for me to do,” I said. “It might be difficult for you, Tom.”

“Nothing is difficult for me, Y/N,” Tom laughed. “Right, we can start right there: what’s my legal name?”

“Thomas Stanley Holland,” I replied. “Son of Dominic and Nicola.”

Tom blinked in surprise a few times, and nodded slowly. “How did you know that?” He asked.

“I had to fill out paperwork for you to make an appearance at a book signing about three years ago,” I said. “One of the forms asked for a middle name, so I asked you, and you told me that exactly.”

Tom nodded. “Umm… My birthday?”

“June 1,” I said. “You’re a Gemini, even though you think astrology is fake.”

“How do you--”

“For the past couple of years, you always sneer at the horoscope section of any magazine,” I told him. “It’s not hard to figure out what you think of it.”

“You’re right,” Tom said slowly. He looked over to a pad of paper with his scribbled writing on it, and he picked it up and scanned the list. “I found this list online… A list of questions similar to what they’ll ask us. Alright, there’s no way you know this: my childhood nickname?”

“Which one, Dutchy or Billy?”

“How in the fuck do you--”

“On your last birthday, you got a letter in the mail from your mom,” I began. “It was addressed to Dutchy. That was easy; Holland, Dutch, Dutchy. Kinda cute, actually.”

“And Billy?” Tom winced. “How did you find out about that?”

“One of your old uni friends works for a publishing company in Glasgow,” I said. “You sent him a letter to catch up-- but really to get him to do something for you-- and you signed it Billy.”

“Do you know why I was called that?” Tom asked. His honey eyes were unwavering as he watched me, and he seemed to deflate when I shook my head.

“I have no idea,” I said. “If it’s anything like my college nickname, it came from a night of drinking and something unfortunate happened.”

“What was your college nickname?” Tom asked, suddenly amused.

“Oh, right, you don’t know everything about me,” I laughed. “Well… It was DongNose. My senior year, me and some friends decided to go to a-a… Ha, a male strip club. Things happened and… I ended up getting hit, on the nose, with… Yeah. It fractured my nose and my face bruised up really bad.”

“Oh, shit,” Tom chuckled. The corner of his mouth twitched, and I rolled my eyes.

“It’s alright, you can laugh,” I said. “It’s a funny story.”

“No, I’m not laughing at you,” Tom said. “Just… Thinking about you in uni. Would we have been friends, do you think?”

“I doubt it,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “You would have been playing rugby or whatever Brits do at uni. I was a TA for a long time, so I hardly left my office at all.”

“Oh, that’s a question,” Tom said, looking at the list. “Where did I go to uni? Or, I guess, college, as you Yanks call it.”

“Umm, your first semester was at the BRIT School,” I began. “You still get mail from them, asking for donations. But you transferred to Cambridge and graduated from there.”

“Well, Y/N, you’re wrong,” Tom said. “I went to Oxford, not Cambridge. My little brother goes to Cambridge. I don’t usually like to tell people that, it feels too uppity to me.”

“You say as we sit in your New York City apartment,” I scoffed.

“See, that’s different,” Tom began pointedly. “I didn’t grow up with much. Me and my mum and dad and brothers lived in this little town outside of London. It was a sort-of poverty area, so we only had what we could get by with. I was young when I told myself that I was going to work to get myself out of that. And…” He gestured to the apartment. “I did. And I was able to get my parents out of that as well.”

“Oh,” I said softly. “What was the name Billy all about? You never said.”

For the first time since I knew him, I watched color rise in Tom’s cheeks. Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? “Umm…” He began. He looked to the coffee table and to the shelf underneath it, and he quickly pulled out a leather-bound scrapbook. “Mum made this for me before I moved to the States. Just some pictures of home and all. But…” He opened the book and spread it out next to us on the couch, forcing me just a few inches closer to him. There were pictures of him and his family in the gray background of London, most of them stamped with the date and time. A picture from when he was in secondary school appeared on a page, taken beautifully and professionally. A black blazer and striped tie adorned his frame, an insignia for his school on the right breast of his jacket. His hair was short and done in the spiked look that was oh-so popular with young boys several years back, and he gave the camera a closed-mouth smile, probably to hide a set of braces.

“I was about twelve here,” Tom began. “This was around the time the nickname came around. I did dance all growing up-- Mum said I was too energetic and chucked me there to tire me out, but I ended up loving it. I ended up auditioning for Billy Elliot, and I got the part. I was on the fuckin’ West End when I was twelve, doing ballet every single day. It was great, but… I went to a Catholic school then, and the other boys in my class didn’t think it was all that cool.” Tom chuckled, but I could see the hurt in his eyes. “But then the nickname came around. People at school called me Billy, even after the show closed. I was tormented with it for years. It carried into college, and then uni. And, even though I’ve long since quit dancing, I still have people from uni that call me Billy.”

“Why did you quit?” I asked.

“I just lost interest.” Tom mumbled with a shrug. “I was being bullied so much that I quit enjoying it. I sometimes wish I never stopped, but what’s done is done.”

The silence was tense between us, and I lightly cleared my throat to diffuse the tension. “Billy Elliot,” I said softly. “Really?”

Tom’s flush came back, but a smile came with it. “C’mon, I was twelve! And I looked like that! What d’ya want from me, Swan Lake?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that!” I exclaimed. “Besides, it isn’t any worse than what I did in high school.”

“What did you do?” Tom asked.

“You’re deflecting my question, Tommy,” I pointed out.

“Answer my question, Y/N,” Tom rebutted instantly.

“Alright, alright!” I grinned. “When I was fifteen, I played Juliet in my school’s production of Romeo and Juliet. Which would have been great, but my director was so inspired by Baz Luhrmann’s movie that he made it set in the 1950s, but had us keep the dialogue. It was… Not good.”

“Say a line, won’t you?” Tom asked. “Just a few words of Juliet.”

I sighed, and tried in vain to recall even a single line from the play. “O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more?” Tom mused, looking down at his lap. “Or shall I speak at this? I take thee at thy word: call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; henceforth I never will be Romeo.”

A smile slowly filled my lips. “You know Shakespeare?” I asked.

“My darling, I’m British,” Tom laughed. “I would have my citizenship revoked if I didn’t.”

I nearly didn’t catch how he called me that name. My darling. A slip of the tongue, a thought from Romeo’s mind? Or more? “I guess we’re more alike than we first thought, huh?” I chuckled. “Anyway, I don’t think Billy Elliot is anything to be ashamed of. It’s a beautiful story.”

Tom sighed. “I hope this works,” he mumbled. “I need this job. I’m sure you do too. We both get something out of it. Which, I was meaning to talk to you about that. Editor?”

“Tommy, if I get caught doing this, I could go to jail,” I said firmly. “I’m not going to commit a federal offense if I’m not going to get some benefits afterwards. You get me?”

Tom nodded slowly. “You are a lovely girl,” he said softly. “Any man would be thrilled to call you his.”

“You do,” I said. “At least, for the next few months, you do.”

Tom looked at me with those warm honey eyes. “Have you ever been kissed, Y/N?” he asked suddenly.

“Um, yeah,” I sputtered out. “Of course.”

“Who was your first kiss?” Tom asked.

“Who was yours?” I said quickly.

“Zendaya Coleman, one of my best mates from college,” Tom said quickly. “Answer my question. What was his name?”

I hesitated as I tried to come up with the name of any boy I went to high school with for me to lie about, but my hesitation was answer enough. A slow smile crept up on Tom’s pink lips, and he bit his bottom lip in amusement. “You’ve never been kissed, have you?” he chuckled. “Earlier today, when I kissed you at the office, that was your first, wasn’t it?”

“Jesus, you say that like it’s a bad thing,” I scoffed.

“It’s not,” Tom said. “It’s just hard to believe. You are smart and witty, beautiful, with a sense of humor… I can’t imagine that boys weren’t falling over themselves to catch you.”

“Well, nobody’s caught me yet,” I laughed softly.

“Thank God,” Tom said with a smile. “Or our plan wouldn’t work.”

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff #fanfiction #fluff #peter parker #spiderman #arvin russell #the devil all the time #tom holland x reader fluff

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ppersonna · 4 years

Text

kiss it better - ksj | m

been waiting on that sunshine boy, i think i need that back. can't do it like that. no one else gonna get it like that. - kiss it better, rihanna

↳ summary- your best friend Kim Seokjin makes you an offer you can’t refuse

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 3.7k

↳ pairing- seokjin x reader

↳ genre- smut, comedy, fluff

↳ warnings- oral sex (f receiving), fingering, finger sucking, dirty talk, daddy kink, jin making really bad jokes at bad times.

↳ a/n- well hello there! i hope you enjoy this! this fic is a collab with @kookiesjoonies all about bad hookups being saved by BTS. make sure you check out her yoongi fic HERE! i hope you enjoy this little piece! i love the visual of jin....well.... you get the idea HNNNGGG *vibrates in thot*. feel free to message me, send me an ask, comment, throw a rock at me, whatever u wanna do i wanna engage w/ UUUUU. LOVE YOU ALL! -lindy

If you had to pinpoint a moment where it all started, where everything changed, it was the night you came home after another bad hook up left you nearly crying in your shared 2 bedroom apartment.

Jin found you pouring an excessive amount of wine into a mug, on the verge of tears.

“Terrible date?” Your roommate asks as he leans against the door of the kitchen and motions with his head towards the gallon of alcohol you’re about to drink like it’s coffee.

“You can fucking say that again,” you grumble. You will not cry—you’re forcing that mantra through your brain at whiplash speeds.

“Jeez, how bad could it have been to make you wanna pound a keg of wine?” He jokes. Your eyes level with his and he can see you’re not in the mood for comedy. Another time, he supposes.

“Men,” you laugh with mirth. “You and your stupid fucking dicks and no brains and all you care about is getting off.” You’re fuming with anger, which given the situation is probably more than what is called for but you’re sure if the next hook up you manage doesn’t care to get you off, you will go absolutely wild.

“I’m still not grasping what’s wrong here,” he folds his arms over his chest and relaxes against the wood. You’re clutching the wine glass—mug—but still not drinking it.

“I haven’t gotten off!” You exclaim with enough gusto that some wine spills out. Jin rushes towards you and grabs a rag. He knows you’re lethal in the kitchen. Sticky for days.

“You haven’t gotten off? Like they don’t make you cum?” He asks as he wipes up the harsh red liquid on the counter. Your eyes watch his hands and for a second, a split second, you admire the tendons and veins moving under his skin as he cleans up your mess.

“Exactly. It’s a one and done, get out of my bed sort of thing,” you huff. “I’m not asking to be cuddled or whatever. But can’t a girl at least get some oral?”

Jin stifles a laugh and wrings the rag out in the sink. “How long has it been since someone made you cum?”

A wave of shame courses over you, but you’re not sure why. Jin’s someone you trust. It’s not like he thinks any less of you for fucking guys who don’t have a shred of decency.

“I mean, I can make myself cum every night in my room,” Jin’s ears turn a slight shade of pink at this and you’re suddenly curious. “But with a guy? Fuck, probably a year. Looks like I pick the real winners.”

He’s silent, and it makes you feel nervous. You can’t explain it—or rather you refuse to accept what you’ve been avoiding for a while. That your eyes linger on your roommate’s form as he exits the shower with a towel around his waist, the broad expanse of his bare shoulders with water still running down his back. The way he pushes his hair back when he’s tired. That you’ve had more than one night of slipping your hands down your body with the image of him in mind.

It feels wrong. It feels dirty to think of your best friend in such a way. And yet, it thrills you even more.

“I hope you don’t—... feel like I’m sleazy or something,” you murmur, buried in your newfound self-consciousness.

He smiles up at you and leans over the counter, resting his head on his hands and watches you curiously.

“I could make you cum,” he offers. It sounds like he’s offering to run errands for you, buy your lunch when you forget your wallet.

It’s so simple that you’re stunned into silence. Your brain skids to a halt to process what just escaped the mouth of your longtime best friend, roommate, confidant.

He chuckles as he watches the gears try to turn in your mind. “I’ve been told I’m great at oral. Not to brag. Just what I’ve heard.” The smirk on his lips definitely tells you he means to brag.

“You want--... to eat me out?” You ask incredulously. He’s still staring at you like it’s no big deal, just another everyday event. Best friends getting each other off. You wash the dishes, he dries, then he’s buried tongue deep in your cunt? Is that how it works?

“You seem really upset, and as your friend, if I have the tools to fix it, why would I hold back?” He postulates. You can’t help but agree with his theory. Your heart is thumping soundly in your chest. Is it just a friendly thing? Is he offering out of the goodness of his heart or is there something more? Are you willing to let your pussy win out and get the pleasure at the sake of getting your heart broken?

It doesn’t take long to decide.

Fuck yes you are.

“Okay,” you agree. “Are we going to fuck too?” You ask as you wash your hands of any remaining wine. You haven’t drunk a sip and you still feel tipsy and lightheaded.

“Do you want to fuck?” He narrows his eyes at you in playful suspicion.

It makes you blush. “I—I’d like to…” you’re suddenly shy and you can tell it thrills Jin to see you thrown off your game.

“Then let’s fuck, baby girl,” he smirks as he pushes up from the counter top he rested on moments ago.

“Your place or mine?” His joke is stupid, but it makes you laugh, anyway.

“Knowing your disgusting ass, your bed is covered in god know’s what. Mine, please.”

He tuts and walks behind you down the hallway, hand resting gently at your back.

“Is that any way to talk to your best friend? The one who’s going to eat you out until you’re crying for more?” His words send a shiver down your spine, and he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Well, fuck—when you put it that way…” you trail off.

Your bedroom has never felt more foreign to you in your life. It’s the same as it always is. Queen-size bed, photos on the wall, messy laundry in the corner spilling out of the hamper. But now you’re in it with Jin. You’re in it with Jin because he’s promised you at least one orgasm and you’re sure he will try for more, knowing his ego.

“Welcome,” you gesture nervously as you sit on the bed.

He rolls his eyes. “Stop acting weird,” he chides. “It’s me, you don’t have to be weird around me.” He’s pressing you down towards the pillows to relax.

You want to retort it’s exactly why you’re acting weird. The man you play drunk Monopoly at 3 am with is pressing into you now like he wants to eat you for hours. He’s seen you crying, held your hair back while you puked, heard or witnessed your most embarrassing moments. And now he’s about to fuck you stupid.

You allow your body to relax against all the sirens in your brain telling you this is weird, this is fucked up, you’ll regret it. The blood is rushing out of your frontal cortex and towards your lower half, making your pussy drunk on anything Seokjin can give you.

He smiles as he sees your body relax into the comforter on your bed and he places a hand on your cheek.

“See? Easy peasy.” You roll your eyes and he chuckles. You want to comment, tell him he’s a fucking idiot like you always do when he says something cheesy, but he beats you to the punch and presses his lips against yours gently.

You’ve always wondered what his lips would feel like against your own. He tastes like peppermint. Idly, you realize you’ve always associated Jin with the taste of warm, smoky vanilla, but now that you’re here with your tongue swirling around his, the peppermint makes sense. It suits him.

He kisses you tenderly. It’s not the rushed kiss of a quick hookup. It’s not the passionate kiss of long-lost lovers. It’s the sweet, compassionate kiss—the kind that wants to make you feel like nothing is wrong in the world. Your heart stutters and leaps into your throat as he cups a cheek in his embrace and rubs the delicate skin there with a thumb.

The kiss is finished too soon for your liking. He’s pulling away and smiling down at you. His eyes sparkle with something you can’t quite put your finger on but it makes you feel lit up like Christmas.

“I hear I’m an excellent kisser too,” he smirks down at you and the moment is lost. “Would you agree?”

You roll your eyes. “God, I can’t believe you,” you sigh. “You’re hopeless.”

He tugs on the hem of your shirt, indicating he means to take it off. You tense for a moment. It seems you’ve stupidly forgotten you should be naked for this act. You’re about to be naked and laid bare in front of your best friend who you’ve harbored an inkling of a crush on. He’s about to see your most vulnerable side. Could you trust him? What if he mentioned the freckle above your ass? What if he pointed out something wrong with your body? A wave of uncertainty washes over you.

Jin pulls your shirt off easily and gently. He tosses it toward your ever-growing laundry pile and turns his attention back to you. You’re still in a nice, pretty bra from the hookup and Jin’s eyes are captivated. The cocky smirk is wiped off his lips, and instead he gapes. Your breasts are encased in creamy red satin and he sits up straighter and can’t break his gaze.

“Wow,” he breathes, and it makes your cheeks heat.

“Sorry, I know it’s too much, I can just—,”

He cuts you off with a finger to your lips.

“I always knew you were pretty but, fuck—.. you’re a vision. You’re gorgeous.”

You’re heating. The way your core clenches around nothing as Jin compliments you with all sincerity and no sense of humor like he does has your blood rushing.

“Can I—,” he swallows as he attempts to steel himself. “Can I take it off?”

You nod, too shy to impart any dialogue and assist him by lifting your back slightly to allow his hands space to un-clasp the lingerie.

It falls away easily and you close your eyes as your full globes come free. You hear Jin’s breath catch and it’s silent. A few beats pass and you’re ready to end everything now, it’s too awkward, when a hand gently cups one and a thumb rubs over the nipple. It makes your spine tingle.

You crack your eyes open and see Jin staring intently at your chest, following his thumb as it drags back and forth against the hardening nipple.

“I think you have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen in my life.”

You want to argue and tell him he’s just saying that to be nice, but the retort dries up in your throat as he leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. He tugs on it with the suction of his mouth and licks stripes against the bud. You moan loudly. It feels like he’s praising you with his mouth.

Jin takes his time. You can tell he’s in no rush. He suckles and presses kisses to your breasts with the same attention to detail he gives his culinary creations. He massages each globe in his hands and alternates his lips back and forth between nipples. He draws sweet sighs and moans from your lips and your fingers thread through his thick hair.

After his careful ministrations, he pulls up and smiles at you.

“I’m not going to lie,” he starts. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

You feel like you’ve been slapped. Kim Seokjin, your roommate and best friend, has wanted you? As much as you have wanted him?

He can see you’re faltering for words and he shrugs.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. It doesn’t have to change anything.”

His immediate dejection spurs you into action.

“I’ve wanted it for a long time too,” you reply. “Jin, why would I agree to have sex with you if I wasn’t interested in being with you?”

He smirks a little and you know you’re in for a witty one-liner.

“You wanted to take a ride on this wild stal-Jin.”

His grin is cocky, as it usually is, and as annoying as his jokes are, it loosens a knot of nerves inside you. You had somehow convinced yourself Jin would be a completely unfamiliar person after this. It seems that wouldn’t be the case.

“Oh my god,” you groan.

His hands and mouth are roaming your chest and stomach, peppering the skin with kisses. He teases at your navel with his tongue and any irritation you felt at his terrible pun flies out the window as you feel a surge rush through your veins straight to your cunt.

He fiddles with the button and fly on your jeans, the ones that hug your curves just perfectly.

“Your ass looks good in these jeans,” he comments as he tugs them down. “Almost a shame to take them off. But I’d rather get a full uncensored view.”

You blush and lift your hips to allow him to pull your jeans off. Long legs are spread on the bed and a thong barely protects your modesty. It’s already soaked, there’s no denying it when Jin steals a glance and cocks a coy smile.

“Naughty,” he tsks jokingly. “Someone’s excited to get sucked by the Seok-master.”

“Jesus Christ, Jin,” you sigh. “I hate you.”

“I’d like you to try to say that again when I’m three fingers deep inside you with my tongue.”

His words roll over you like a trail of fire. It clenches at your throat and sizzles down to your core. You can’t help but let a moan out and arch your back.

“I thought so,” he smirks. He fingers at the straps of your thong for a moment and then trails a finger down your slit. It’s wet and warm, and he bites a lip.

“Bet you’re real pretty here too. I think about what your pussy looks like a lot.”

It’s sending you into an unfamiliar state of consciousness to hear Kim Seokjin say such illicit things about you—things you thought to be off-limits.

“Bet it looks even prettier with your face buried in there.” A sly smile spreads on your own features, and Jin looks pleased.

“That’s my fucking girl.”

He tugs the black thong down and it joins the chaos on your bedroom floor.

He’s here now. It’s real. It’s happening. His eyes are glued to your cunt, and a finger is tracing the outline of the lips there.

“No one has ever made you cum from oral?” He asks again. He’s mystified by your center and he hasn’t even seen the full thing yet.

A shuddering breath escapes you as you confirm. “No, no one ever has.”

He sucks his teeth for a moment and remains silent. His fingers slowly slide in to spread you open lewdly, displaying your clit like the grand prize behind the curtain.

“I’ll make sure you get off every single night,” he promises. “No more hooking up with assholes. All mine, okay? Just like you always should have been.”

It’s hard to breathe as you feel his fingers achingly close to your clit and you’re sure your channel is weeping with desire.

“Okay, Jinnie,” you murmur.

“It’s daddy, now, baby.”

It feels like the world stops and you whimper with need.

“Please, daddy,” you cry. “I need you.”

“I can tell, baby. Your poor little pussy hasn’t been shown the love it deserves, hm?” He asks. He still refuses to move any closer to where you need. “You need daddy, don’t you? You need someone who will worship this cunt.”

The air in your lungs is sucked out with vacuum-like force.

He lowers himself to lie between your legs, face close to your center. He spreads your legs further, almost on the verge of discomfort, and wraps his arms under your thighs and grips at the tops to keep you spread.

Suddenly, he’s pressing his face into you and a tongue darts into your channel and laves around. Your eyes roll back in your head at the feeling.

He’s testing the waters, per se, and getting a taste of you. He wants to know what spots drive you crazy. Are you solely a clitoral stimulation girl or do you need the feeling of something filling you tight and deep too? He hopes to learn every single aspect about your cunt before the night is over.

He watches your facial expression as he licks from your walls and up to your clit. Your face contorts in ecstasy as the tip of his tongue flicks quickly on the nub. You’re gasping with desperation, singing his praises as he suckles and rub at your button with his tongue.

You taste delicious; he notes. Earthy, but still sweet like nectar. He thinks maybe your body was tuned to be his.

He spends time there, and it drives you mad. He’s sucking and flicking and dipping his tongue inside you and you feel a sense of euphoria no man has given you. Jin’s pillowy plush lips apply just the right pressure to your clit, kiss it so sweetly you might cry as he then inserts himself to lap up your juices. He drinks as if he’s dehydrated of you, only you, and if he doesn’t get more, he’ll perish.

“Jin—.. daddy, fuck,” you correct your mistake and it makes him chuckle against you.

“Good girl,” he coos. He pulls an arm out from between your thighs and sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, a disgusting display for you that has you nearly cumming right there.

After he determines you tortured and his fingers slicked enough, he moves forward again and slides said fingers up into you. Your back arches again and Jin smirks. You’re a penetration girl just as much as you are a clit girl, and Jin knows he has you hook, line and sinker. He’s unlocked your formula and plans to see it to your very end.

“Look at you,” he murmurs adoringly as he fucks in and out of you. “So nice and wet for daddy. Getting my fingers so slick.” He groans. His cock is hardening rapidly, and he moves his hips on the bed for some stimulation. “I can’t wait to fuck this sweet little hole. I’m going to be the only one who ever makes you cum, and I will always make sure you fucking cum.” He promises.

You’re whimpering with a pleasant mixture of need and satisfaction as he thrusts his digits into you. Jin’s taking his time, which leaves you breathless, gasping for more and more. You want to be greedy and tell him to take you now, so hard and fast, but you want to make this last forever. Your pussy has never felt so alive and vibrant with desire as it does right now.

Jin returns to his post, mouth firmly attached to your clit as he picks up a pace with his fingers. He’s suckling again at your nub and you find it’s the perfect amount of pressure that has your vision darkening around the edges. An impossible tight string is winding so tightly inside you and you feel it threaten to collapse your entire body.

You allow your waning attention to focus on Jin for a moment, and you realize how he truly looks in his element. It looks as if Jin should have been the one between your thighs this whole time. You thought maybe this would feel wrong and perverse. Instead, it feels as if you two have finally slipped together and fit into the picture perfectly, instead of trying to jam into spots not meant for either of you.

It’s heady to think of him like this, your best friend who knows everything about you. It makes sense now—it was always meant to be him in your life. You’ve always wanted him to be the one who simultaneously makes you laugh and cum. He was always meant to be the one for you; it just took until now to really understand it.

Jin picks up the pace again, and it washes away your thoughts as you feel him increase the speed and pressure of his tongue in time with his fingers. His eyes are closed and he’s focused on this like it’s his destiny. Your legs quiver in anticipation as the tightness pulls more, pulls harder and your cunt tightens around his fingers.

It snaps the string inside you and your mental capacity. All you feel is bliss as your body unravels at his hand. Your channel pulses around him and he grins as he feels the clenching and hears your sweet and agonized moans. You’re incapable of any coherent thought except Jin, Jin, Jin and how deliciously sweet he has made you feel and the ecstasy he has wrought out of you.

He allows you a moment to settle down from your high and pulls his fingers from you. He presses a chaste kiss to your clit which makes you squeak at the over stimulation.

As you come back to life, panting breath slowing, he sits up on his knees and smiles at you.

“So, are all the rumors true? Am I good?” He looks smug and as much as you want to slap it off him, you can’t when he’s covered in your slick and looking incredibly sexy while doing so.

“Yeah, you’re good,” you breathe. He grins back at you and moves to lay next to you on the bed. You snuggle up beside him and throw your arm and leg over him. It feels as if you’ve been doing this for years, as if this isn’t the first time you’re being intimate with your best friend of two decades.

After your breath settles completely, he looks over at you with a smile.

“You ready for round two?” He asks.

You’re moving and straddling his hips, rubbing against the hard length in his jeans.

“You know it, daddy.”

His hands quickly move to unbutton his jeans and shove them down and off his body.

“Well,” he quips with his signature grin. “We better get down to Jin’s-ness.”

#bts smut #bts jin #bts seokjin #bts fic #bts kim seokjin #seokjin smut #jin smut #worldwide handsome #bts imagine #bangtan smut #hyungsmutsociety #kwritersworldnet #btswriterscollective #btswritersnet #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #heartsforbts #ficswithluv

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asciendo · 3 years

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Trost Has Fallen Part 2

Make it Right Series Chapter 11

Jean was the cocky bastard that walked around like he owned the place. Y/N couldn’t stand so when the time came that you were his sparring partner, you couldn’t wait to teach him a lesson.

Little did the both of you know, that sparring match would be the start of your unexpected relationship with Jean Kirschtein, that will change your life, and the rest of the Scout Regiment forever.

Chapter 1/Chapter 2/Chapter 3/Chapter 4/Chapter 5/Chapter 6/Chapter 7/Chapter 8/Chapter 9/Chapter 10/Chapter 12/Chapter 13/Chapter 14/Chapter 15/Chapter 16/Chapter 17/Chapter 18/Chapter 19/Chapter 20/Chapter 21

Tag list: @empty-glass-full-of-emotion @dai-tsukki-desu

Disclaimer: It's not exactly how it happens in the anime in terms of which group is gathered together and timeline may change as well

Jean felt like he had no hope. Titans were in the wall, he was stranded with the other cadets and their ODM gear has run out of gas. He was slumped down to the ground with his head buried in his hands. Despite the sounds of screams and building being destroyed, all that Jean could think of was you. You were out there fighting the Titans and due to his selfishness, he was stuck here wondering if you were okay.

The rest of the cadets seemed to have given up, until Connie suddenly stood up from his seated position next to Jean. "Fuck the titans. I'm not dying here." Connie grunts and Jean rolls his eyes. "Like you have a choice." He laments.

"Fuck it. We should try to make it back to HQ and resupply."

"Are you crazy?! We barely have enough gas! It's a suicide mission!" Jean yells back. "I agree..." Bertholdt begins and Jean looks up at him in disbelief. "Shut up, Berhtoldt. Why the fuck would I listen to you?" Jean says through gritted teeth. Ever since he's noticed you getting close to Bertholdt, his presence seemed to anger Jean even more.

"Cut it out, Jean. Keep your attitude in check." Reiner growls and Jean huffs. "We should make a dash for it while we can...I'd rather die trying than stuck here like useless Titan food." Connie sighs.

"Will my death mean anything...after this..." Marco states which causes Jean to stare at him in sadness. Marco was always the positive one, seeing him give up made Jean realize how hopeless they really were.

"Fuck." Jean curses and shuts his eyes. Suddenly, Mikasa arrives and all the cadets stare up at her.

"Has anyone seen Eren?" She breathes and you all look to Armin who's shaking at the corner. Armin tearfully begins to name all the ones they've lost as Jean looks down. Mikasa seems unfazed and continues to berate the rest of them to fight, calling them cowards.

Jean's head shoots up. He's been called a coward too many times in the past few weeks. His mind suddenly takes him back to your argument by the lake. He sees your face clearly, the pain in your eyes and the disappointment in your voice. The word "coward" comes of your mouth and Jean's heart drops just like it did when he left you.

Jean stands up as soon as Mikasa leaves. "I'm not dying here." Jean says which causes the other cadets to look at him. "Keep your engagements short. Use as little gas as you can. Don't give up." Jean commands which leads everyone to look at him in confusion as he was against them trying to make it back to HQ. "What's gotten into you?" Connie asks but Jean continues forward. "Let's go." Jean commands and the rest follow him.

As Jean zooms through the air, he sees titans closing in. His heart drops as it dawns upon him that there would be no way to make it to HQ without sacrifice cadets on the way. One of the cadets Jean doesn't recognize suddenly runs out of gas. Other cadets rush in to help him, Jean shouts to stop them but it's too late as they're suddenly caught by titans and eaten. Jean shuts his eyes and continues to HQ.

As soon as Jean reaches HQ, he collapses onto his knees. His decision caused multiple deaths, blood was on his hands and he doesn't know how he can live with himself. He enters the building and sees the supply soldiers hiding and rage suddenly hits him. "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!" he yells which silences the room. "W-where you guys hiding here the whole time?" his voice shakes as he stares at all the soldiers coming out of their hiding places.

"Y-yeah...there are titans out there..." one of them whispers which angers Jean even more. "NO SHIT THERE ARE TITANS OUT THERE! People DIED because of you!" Jean starts to move forward but is pulled back by Marco.

Suddenly, Titans start to burst through the walls. The cadets scatter and try to hide behind whatever form of cover they can find. Out of nowhere, an abnormal titan starts to fight off the titans. Stunned, Jean's eyes grow wide at the sight of the abnormal titan fending off the remaining titans.

Mikasa, Connie and Armin arrive and tell him that the abnormal titan is helping them which Jean can't believe.

In need of a way to clear out the Titans that have infiltrated the headquarters' supply room, They search the building for weapons, eventually finding buckshot rifles amid the Military Police Regiment's supplies. Armin devises a plan to clear out the Titans in the supply room using the rifles to blind them so that others can cut their napes.

As they resupply, Jean's morality is down. He couldn't help but think about all the lives were lost because of him. Suddenly, Marco sits beside him. "I killed those people..." Jean sighs and Marco places an arm on his shoulder.

"No...you didn't." Marco says and Jean looks up at him.

"Wh-what?"

"You're a good leader actually." Marco began and Jean stared up at him in disbelief. "Your skill at recognizing a situation as it unfolds, gives you a clear grasp of what needs to be done now, you know? You made the right call. It's what got me moving. It's why I'm alive now."

"B-but—" but before Jean could finish, Mikasa and Armin they're going to observe the abnormal titan, so he, Reiner, Berhtoldt and Annie follow. The abnormal titan is being eaten by its fellow titans and Reiner suggests they help him. "Are you serious?! Helping a titan?!" Jean yells but before Reiner could argue, the abnormal titan breaks free and collapses. Suddenly, the back of the titan's neck opens, and an unconscious Eren is left sitting on top of the Titan's body. Jean is left frozen as well as the others, as Mikasa rushes down to rescue Eren. Jean's mind completely goes blank as he tries to internalize that Eren was responsible for the rampage they just witnessed.

Jean, Annie, Reiner and Bertholdt are put on standby with their fellow cadets, and are ordered not to tell anyone else about what they witnessed. Hearing an explosion coming from the Wall, Jean and the others who witnessed Eren's transformation recognize what is happening and immediately go to investigate.

During the mission to seal Wall Rose using Eren's Titan form, Jean, Conny, and Annie are given orders to lure Titans close to the Wall so that they can be killed using cannon fire. However, while they are working, Jean's ODM gear breaks and he is left stranded in the middle of the city.

Jean spots an abandoned building and takes shelter. As he slumps on the ground, his eyes shut and tears are streaming down his face. His mind goes to you. How he wasted the last few moments of his life hating you for for fighting for what's right when he could have been entangled in your arms in complete bliss. Suddenly, Jean spots a nearby corpse equipped with gear. Waiting until there are no Titans nearby, Jean attempts to take the corpse's gear for himself, but has a hard time getting it off the body. Jean finally manages to equip the gear while Annie, Connie, and Marco distract approaching Titans, and despite having a difficult time controlling it, manages to use the gear to maneuver his way to safety atop the Wall.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You got separated from Armin after Thomas was eaten. Youi regrouped with Christa and Ymir and found your way to a top of a building. Your eyes widened as you witnessed an abnormal fight of other titans who were entering HQ. Closing your eyes, you hoped Jean was alright. Despite everything that was going on, the screams, the destruction, your mind shot back to Jean. A heavy feeling in your chest set in, with the idea that if something were to happen to either one of you, you last left off on the worst of terms.

Thankfully, you got word that cadets were gathering on top of the Wall. Fighting of the remaining titans, your heart drops as you fail to rescue one of the cadets with you as she's devoured, her blood splattered on your blouse. Tears stream down your face as soon as you reach the top of the wall.

Looking around, you see Annie, Connie, Bertholdt and Reiner staring at you, Christa and Ymir in relief. Then your eyes land on him. Jean. Your eyes grow wide as your eyes meet his. Bertholdt helps you up from your crouching position and his breath hitches as he sees the blood on your shirt.

Suddenly, Bertholdt is pushed back and you feel strong arms grab you by your shoulders. You look up and you're met with Jean's crazed eyes, tears streaming down his face. The rest of the cadets stare at him in confusion at his sudden concern for you as you were always bickering and arguing in training.

"A-are you okay?" Jean's shaky voice surprises you. You weren't sure if you were alright, you witnessed the deaths of your fellow cadets and words weren't coming out of your mouth. "T-There's blood...everywhere..." Jean's eyes were scanning your body looking at the blood all over you.

"I-It's not my blood..." You manage to break out looking up at Jean whose eyes were filled with panic. "W-what..." Jean stammered as he continued to hold you by your shoulders. "It's not my blood." You said more clearly and Jean's eyes suddenly shifted to relief. He held you there for a moment then suddenly, pulling you into his arms and embracing you.

You were stunned at first, but then quickly melted into his embrace and let the tears flow out of your eyes. To you and Jean, it was just the both of you in each other's arms on the Wall as you stayed that way, with everyone else looking at each other in shock at the sight of you and Jean, holding onto each other for dear life.

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ljblueteak · 3 years

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Throwing my hat into the “Why did Paul and Jane break up?” ring. There have been fantastic posts on this already, but looking at the McCartney bios by Sounes and Salewicz back-to-back has given me a slightly different perspective (this could all need to be tossed out if anything else about them comes to light/there’s other material I’m not aware of, which is more than possible, but here’s what I’ve got for now!)

The short version: I think they split up because of a lack of long-term compatibility that they both recognized as they got older. They also grew to prefer different lifestyles and possibly also had different ideas about whether/when to start trying to have children. By the time they split up, Paul had already realized, according to the joint interview with Jane described in Hunter Davies’ 1968 bio, that it was “silly” of him to have expected Jane to do what the other Beatles’ partners had done and give up her career after marriage (Paul describing his expectation as having been “silly” is in Davies 308-309. The observation that all the other women who had “married in to the band” had given up their careers because that was “expected by men of [the Beatles’ background]” is in Sounes 189). Jane having a career she wanted to continue after marriage seems to have been resolved as a possible impediment before the split. The Salewicz bio suggests that what *may* have been a factor was the question of children, with Jane not wanting them to interfere with her career. However, it’s not clear from that bio when this question came up for them--whether it was closer to the time of the split or whether it had been discussed and resolved prior to their engagement. I think these are the main reasons they split. I don’t think his many, many, many affairs helped at all, but I think the above reasons are the main ones.

Jane and Paul got together when they were quite young (Jane was 17 and Paul was 20) and their interests diverged in a few ways that really mattered as they got older. As the bios have suggested, Jane wasn’t really into rock ‘n’roll and really wasn’t into the drug scene. Paul was into both (understatement!). This likely contributed to the tension that people like Marianne Faithful witnessed between them. In addition to that, they both seemed to realize that they didn’t ultimately “click.” For bio excerpts and more, please see below!

In terms of not actually “clicking,”which would be enough reason to end a relationship on its own, imo, here’s what Jane Asher had to say (sourced from the amazing @thecoleopterawithana via @amoralto:

“No, it wasn’t love at first sight on my side. It was several months before I felt at all certain. And of course, I was young. Only seventeen. Inevitably, one changes. After all, Paul himself was only twenty when we met.

“I knew in my bones that the break must inevitably come a long time before it actually happened. Although we had this emotional thing for each other, we found it difficult to be really happy together....”

Jane Asher, interview w/ Godfrey Winn for The Australian Women’s Weekly: Girl with a broken love affair. (April 23rd, 1969)

And here’s Paul in Many Years From Now:

“During that period with Jane Asher I learned a lot and she introduced me to a lot of things, but I think inevitably when I moved to Cavendish Avenue, I realized that she and I weren’t really going to be the thing we’d always thought we might be. Once or twice we talked about getting married, and plans were afoot but I don’t know, something really made me nervous about the whole thing. It just never settled with me, and as that’s very important for me, things must feel comfortable for me, I think it’s a pretty good gauge if you’re lucky enough. You’re not always lucky enough, but if you can feel comfortable then there’s something very special about that feeling. I hadn’t quite managed to be able to get it with Jane....She was a very intelligent and interesting person, but I just never clicked. One of those indefinable things about love is some people you click with and some people who you should maybe click with, you don’t” (264, 452-453).

In addition to their own words, there are differing takes from observers about Paul and Jane’s compatibility and reasons for the split. Artists like Jann Howarth, who along with Peter Blake made the Sergeant Pepper art and had known the Beatles for “four years” before that observes in the Sounes bio that:

“I thought [Paul and Jane] were adorable together. She was wonderful. She was a very calm person and, in the middle of all this, you felt she was a wonderful balance for him, and you felt she was his equal for sure. It didn’t feel to me as though Paul was the big deal and she was trembling along behind, whereas you felt that a bit with Pattie Boyd and some of the other gals. I mean Cynthia was left standing still, basically, by John. Whereas you felt Jane was an absolute equal to Paul and had a very supple mind” (131).

Howarth sees them as “adorable” together and says that Jane’s “Paul’s equal for sure” and doesn’t suggest that this is a source of tension in any way.

Marianne Faithful, who frequently visited Cavendish with Mick Jagger, seems to imply in her autobiography that a major cause for the tensions she observed between Paul and Jane were related to Jane’s career aspirations and that Paul had wanted “an old-fashioned Liverpool wife,” which is what he got with Linda. However, I think it’s worth noting that while there had been tensions about Jane’s career, as detailed in the Davies bio (though Paul had also been really excited about and supportive of Jane’s career), Paul had already recognized that he had been being “silly.” Of course, there may have been continuing tensions related to it, but it sounds like Paul realized he’d been wrong on the whole. In addition to that, Marianne and Mick were part of the rock ‘n’ roll drug crowd Jane disapproved of, so these tensions between Paul and Jane that Faithfull observed may very well also have been related to Jane not being thrilled about more drug-using rock ‘n’rollers taking over her house.

Here’s the bit from Marianne Faithfull’s book via The Guardian:

Visits to Paul and Jane Asher weren't quite as relaxed. They were a bit uptight, and there were constant little frictions, but that's what happens when couples start to come apart. In any case, I was in a very different position from the one that Jane found herself in. I'd done what Paul wanted Jane to do, and given up my career. I wasn't going on tour with the Old Vic; I wasn't taking any more movie roles and very few parts in plays. Jane was a serious actress and wanted to continue her career, but Paul had other ideas. That's why Linda was so perfect for Paul; she was just what he wanted, an old-fashioned Liverpool wife who was devoted to her husband. Whatever we thought of Linda - and she didn't make that great an impression on me - I think it was a credit to Paul that he didn't marry a model. Because that's what all the others have ended up doing, they've married these models. And they have children who also become models.

The Guardian, 6 October 2007.

In his bio of Paul (which doesn’t directly address Faithfull’s comments), Sounes doesn’t suggest that the perception that Paul would be happy to be with someone who was prepared to let their own career take the backseat, at least for a time, is wrong (I do think it’s important to mention that in addition to her Wings career and solo/with Paul songwriting work, Linda also did work that didn’t involve Paul’s career at all down the line, like working on her cookbooks and frozen food line). But Sounes does say that it was much more than that that drew Paul and Linda together:

“Anything Paul wanted to do seemed possible with Linda, or Lin as he called her affectionately. She had bucket-loads of American confidence, which he liked. Both were relaxed and open about sex...Lin dug rock ‘n’ roll in a way Jane never had and unlike Jane, this American girl wasn’t uptight about drugs. Although a modern, liberated woman in some ways, Lin wasn’t a committed careerist. She was already tired of scratching a living as a rock ‘n’roll photographer, more than ready to settle down with a man who could look after her and Heather” Fab (215).

Paul was also ready to start a family. Indeed, John Lennon suggested that part of what drew Paul to Linda was the “ready-made family.” In the same interview where John pointed out that Linda could provide a “ready-made family,” he claimed that Jane was not ready for children: “If Jane was to have a career, then that’s not a cozy family, is it?” Chris Salewicz’s Paul bio also addresses this, saying:

“A source of considerable contention between Paul and Jane--perhaps the cause of those adverse remarks about the theatre to Joe Orton--was her insistence that having children would interfere with her acting career. Yet, now that Paul had everything he could possibly ever want, all that remained to fulfill his life was the presence of children, something he had always desired far more than the other Beatles” (199).

While we (or at least I!) don’t know whether Paul and Jane had discussed the issue of children before they got engaged, disagreements over whether or when to have kids contribute to a fair number of breakups to this day--and they had plenty of good reasons, from just not “clicking” in the right way to disagreements over drugs, to break up anyway.

#Paul McCartney #Jane Asher #Linda McCartney #Paul and Jane #Paul and Linda #long post #really really really long post #and I have thoughts about Linda being a traditional Liverpool wife too #but that was already too long #I just edited to mention all the cheating #and could have talked about it more #but I really don't think it was a primary factor #down to discuss though!

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transsexualhamlet · 3 years

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sherlock holmes reactions part 4 (?) ive lost count already but unsurprisingly ive grown even more attached to him

using this as the cover image because i made him a playlist. cause im awful

no legit this is gonna need a read more because it's SO LONG SHIHEWIESHEFSHIEWHF

Had three mental breakdowns this week and realized i do in fact kin sherlock motherfucking holmes. this does not bode well for anything in my life mentally I've diagnosed him with so many things

Oh boy lol you want the list I think hes autistic (undisputed honestly) plus also adhd but on top of that there's the manic depression and uhhh the bpd lmao I dont even think that's it those are just. the obvious ones

But yeah man's a fucking mess and a shit person but in the same way as me so 👍

Some highlights I thought were very funny:

watson: we are in fact going to be waltzing into a place where people are Shooting People you do not have your gun. this is a problem

sherlock: don't worry watson I have my trusty stick!

watson: visible pain

This clearly happens like every day or so with them

but yeah there were some really honestly sweet scenes with them at the apartment and why am i getting soft over the crusty man being gay

have you considered tho. have you considered them

have you considered sherlock, who usually only plays absolute garbage on his violin serenading watson to sleep when he was tired and in pain and watson being so fucking in love with the man and waxing poetic about falling asleep to his music and waking up to see him fallen asleep on the couch next to him and oh my god them

They're just really sweet together for such a completely dysfunctional couple so much of the time lol I just. Sherlock being like.

Sherlock half of the time: watson you're fucking stupid. no i won't take care of my personal needs stfu. watson get a goddamn life. watson shut up. watson no one cares about your goddamn opinion. no i need to disturb you in the middle of the night it's for science. hey watson mind if i manipulate mansplain malewife

Sherlock the other half of the time: HELLO SIR YOU ARE MY FAVORITE MAN TO EVER MAN HELLO MAY I SPEND THE REST OF MY DAYS WITH YOU HELLO I WILL DO ANYTHING FOR YOU WE ARE PERFECT MATCHES I LOVE YOU AND I NEED YOU YOURE SO MUCH BETTER THAN ME PLEASE MARRY ME

They're... they certainly are.

ALSO OH MY GOD.

THIS ONE TIME WHEN SHERLOCK WAS JUST PACING AROUND THE ROOM AT 3 AM GOING "IT DOESNT MAKE SENSE >:(((" AND HUDSON LIKE BARGED IN TO COMPLAIN AND THEN WATSON WAS LIKE DUDE YOU GOTTA STOP DOING THIS AND PROCEEDS TO SAY THE LINE "YOU ARE KNOCKING YOURSELF UP, OLD MAN"

BAHGHSFHGRHEWHEWHIFEW

BRB SOBBING

CALLING HIM AN OLD MAN???? KNOCKING HIMSELF UP?? I DONT KNOW WHATS FUNNIER

The main highlight of this part was I have now gotten to see him have a great time watching his homo homie get married

Its so fucking funny.......

I was prepared for a funny reaction by yuumori sherlock's face when he said it lol but. Damn i was really not prepared tbh

watson: I'm engaged!

sherlock: *pained groaning*

watson: do you... not like her?

sherlock: no she's fine she's great you'll be wonderful together bUT I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE ARE HETEROSEXUAL WATSON DO I HAVE TO MARRY MYSELF THEN WATSON? ARE YOU GOING TO MAKE ME MARRY MYSELF.

watson: yeah... yeah... fair, I feel really bad because you did this whole case and I got a girlfriend out of it and all you got was me leaving you alone fuck man im sorry what are you gonna do without me

sherlock, highly sarcastic: dont worry watson I've always got my handy cocaine! *pulls it out and gets high in front of watson just as he's about to leave*

watson: *in fucking agony*

sherlock: good for you!

I DONT EVEN- THIS SCENE KILLED ME MULTIPLE TIMES OVER WHAT

ITS SO GODDAMN NONCHELANT ABOUT IT SHERLOCK IS JUST LIKE YEAH I WILL IN FACT NOT BE MENTALLY HEALTHY IF YOU ARE NOT WITH ME 24/7 BUT WHATEVER YOU DO YOU /S

I'd like to apologize to watson on sherlock's behalf lmao. man is being a bit too codependent on main

The last thing about sign of four I do need to address is yeah, there's the Horrific Amounts Of Racism in that one and the whiplash hearing it is just ridiculous because they seem to be so knowledgeable in all other areas and fairly... politically correct, taking sherlock's original misogyny as a purposeful character flaw, but then they just mention someone indigenous once and suddenly its all parrotting racist propaganda and just... really awful shit. There's no way I'm gonna speak for the group that just got absolutely hate crimed here but anyone can tell the author just has no clue what he's fucking talking about and it's physically painful.

And I don't know, it's just so bad it seems out of character? Doyle's making these motherfuckers say shit that honestly, Sherlock would know better about. And especially Watson. Come on, you cannot tell me watson is mentally capable of being prejudiced against someone. Please do not make him that way.

I'm not sure how to handle it specifically, or what's the proper way I should handle something like that in a media I otherwise like. Is it ok to say Doyle was clearly a piece of shit on the matter and separate those characters from his bias or is that insensitive?

I don't know, I was Not a fan of it and I'm glad to see they've at least finally shut up about the guy

But anyway yeah, uhhhh onto the short stories because I'm trying to read those before I get to the final problem

Scandal in Bohemia was a fucking ride, first of all, before we even get to Sherlock's girlboss arc we have to discuss how gay the whole situation was and how Doyle's attempt at making them less gay failed spectacularly

Like he's all "ah yes I need to marry off watson and uhhh make sherlock ummmm interact with a woman so they dont look gay" but he does it SO BADLY that it makes them look EVEN GAYER

cause i mean, even the conversation they had about watson getting married back in sign of four was gay af, but how Doyle handled things afterward was in no way straighter.

Cause you know, the man kind of wrote himself into a corner with the fact of Watson narrating these stories. So Watson has to be around to witness them, and to witness Sherlock's own thought process rather privately, so he has to be around sherlock at night, a lot. But trying to come up with a reason for that happening just... it didn't occur to Doyle. He just went. Ah yes this makes sense. And it's Watson just like Sleeping Over At Sherlock's like every other goddamn day and every time his wife leaves town and having them basically still live that cute domestic home life but they have absolutely no excuses for doing it anymore. It's quite funny

Like it was gay already the way they interacted when they officially lived together but it was like, a necessity for them. Now it's not, Watson just comes over because he goddamn wants to, and it's hilarious to me.

LIKE IDK I THINK THEY KIND OF BROKE UP FOR A YEAR OR SO BC OF WATSON GETTING MARRIED AND THEY LIKE DONT HAVE CONTACT WITH ONE ANOTHER BUT ONE DAY WATSON JUST INEXPLICABLY HAS THE URGE TO COME VISIT SHERLOCK ON NO NOTICE AND THEN SUDDENLY THEY ARE TOGETHER NEAR 24/7 AGAIN LIKE BARELY ANYTHING CHANGED AHIEHOEWH

SIT DOWN AND TRY TO TELL ME THOSE ARE NOT HOMOSEXUALS

Watson walks in on no fucking notice after a full year and Sherlock is just. In the middle of some experiment obviously but hes like

Sherlock, carrying around unidenfiable chemical mixtures: W A T S O N you look good you look good! i see you've gained seven pounds!!

watson: uh. thanks??? Hey lol *awkwardly waves* Uh um Wanted to Uhm sEe you

Sherlock: ABOUT gODDAMN TIME AND YES WONDERFUL LOOK LOOK SIT DOWN I HAVE THINGS TO INFODUMP ABOUT

watson: :) ok :) *turns to camera* and we were back to the old days

sherlock: makes a deduction

watson: wowwwwwwwwwwww !! so true bestie !!

sherlock: !!!!!!!!! :))) !!!!! :))) uh fuck im supposed to be smooth Its Elementary Lol

watson: *turns to camera* when i stroke his ego like this and compliment him he blushes like a girl like i just complimented his dress so i do it more because he likes it. this is a homie trait

watson: well i should probably get going! my wife will notice that i am gone my dear buddy bro homie!

sherlock: NO DONT LEAVE IM LOST WITHOUT YOU (pretty much a direct quote lol) your. wife doesn't. get back home until monday. I know this because I am smart and definitely have not been stalking you.

watson: alright :)))))

AND THEN HE FUCKING SLEEPS OVER LMAO FUCKING HOMOS

So yeah they're right back where they were before pretty much and there's a case bc of course there is

And honestly I think this short story specifically was so insane mostly just because of how absolutely fast it all went. Yuumori kind of made me believe the original Irene Adler was more of an important character than she really is? And I think that's. Honestly so funny. Motherfucker shows up for ten pages, girlbosses her way around town, and changes sherlock's entire opinion of the female gender while still keeping him gay?

LIKE NO LOL SHES NOT IN ANY WAY A LOVE INTEREST AND WATSON GOES OUT OF HIS WAY TO SPECIFY THE FACT THAT IN NO WORLD WOULD THEY HAVE BEEN ROMANTICALLY INVOLVED BECAUSE. SHERLOCK. DIDN'T DATE WOMEN.

HE WAS JUST??? SO IMPRESSED AND SHELL SHOCKED BY HER EXISTENCE HE DECIDED IT WAS TIME FOR GIRLBOSS APPRECIATION DAY TODAY AND ALL DAYS HENCEFORTH???

AND THEY HAVE LIKE O N E INTERACTION?? God, the power this woman(?) has. Watson looks at her once like. damb shawty 😳 and she's like "no<3" and he's like FUCK

Like yeah it's pretty much just the king walking up like "help girl the whore is blackmailing me" and sherlock being like "ok lol this will be easy" and then it proceeded to not in fact be easy or even possible

sherlock like... posed as a dead body and tried to get her to give up the location of the photo but she out-acted him and skipped the town the next day after doing the 'good night mr. sherlock holmes' thing with sherlock completely tricked

and she just. sends a letter like "dear sherlock holmes. you're a fucking idiot and i think it's funny that you lost. nice job tho mad respect" and sherlock just SHORT CIRCUITS

the king comes back a bit later like "hey Dude where's my Photo" and sherlock's like oh yeah uhhhhhhhhhhh about that and the king is like HOW COULD IT POSSIBLY HAVE BEEN THAT GODDAMN HARD i would have dated someone more noble if she wasn't so pretty i swear im on a whole different level from her

and then. GIRLBOSSIFIED SHERLOCK HOLMES RESPONDS "from what I have seen of the lady, she seems indeed to be on a very different level from your majesty" ABSEHHESHEFHHFES ROASTED

and the dude just LEAVES

After that I read a few more of the short stories and well the highlights I got from that pretty much were these conversations

Watson: sherlock. honey. have you. eaten anything today

Sherlock: IT DIDNT OCCUR TO ME DEAR WATSON

Watson: ITS FIVE PM

and:

Sherlock: *having one of his Moment Moments at three in the goddamn mornig* GRRRR CRIME ISNT WHAT IT USED TO BE

Watson: MY DEAR SHERCOCK WHAT IS CRIME S U P P O S E D TO BE LIKE ACCORDING TO YOU

Sherlock: no one's original anymore fucking copycats

Watson: so you want the criminals to make things harder for you specifically.

Sherlock, exasperated: yes!

I love them your honor.

#rowan's hyperfixation essays #rowan screams into the void #rowan views moriarty #sherlock holmes

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sunsetsover · 3 years

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Just hopping on the anons last week who said they'd done reading around BPD and Ben etc after reading your posts to say... when Whitney told Ben he makes everything about himself in this week's eps I immediately thought of you! Like lemme explain lmao I remember last year you wrote about how lots of fans said Ben was making everything about him when him and Callum had that argument about the warehouse job in Sept.? And you wrote about how you viewed it and how looking at Ben through a lense of mh goes a different interpretation etc. Idk Whitney saying that just made me recall your thoughts on the fandom saying the same thing lmao.

(although tbh I didn't think Whitney was v fair saying that anyway bc how was he meant to know Callum had witnessed a stabbing etc?? He wasn't making it about himself he was simply worrying about the info he had access to???)

no joke i literally thought the exact same thing after i watched it yesterday. not the post (tho i do remember what you're talking about!) but i was like 'oh ben's behaviour is VERY bpd' like probably the most obvious example we've had since 2019 maybe and then i was like man.... how many people are going to have Bad Takes abt ben's behaviour and how he's 'selfish' and then i was thinking abt what whit said and it reminded me of something i heard once and i've tried to find it but i can't and i'm gutted bc it made so much sense but it was abt how bpd are often viewed as selfish or making everything abt us but we do that bc we literally feel like everything IS because of us/our fault. it's literally a Symptom. like when you're hypersensitive and terrified of everyone abandoning you EVERYTHING feels personal.

like someone's in a bad mood? clearly i have done something to put them in a bad mood. someone doesn't reply? clearly they hate me. you smile at someone in public and they don't smile back? clearly they can sense something is Wrong with me and didn't want to engage. either that or they think i'm hideously ugly. that's the default assumption, that it's somehow something to do with me. not that they're going thru their own shit or that they're busy or tired. and then when we're talking abt someone you're close too, the fear of abandonment comes into play where you either start to push them away bc you're convinced they're gonna leave anyway or frantically do things or change things to help convince them to stay, and both of these can go very extreme. and ofc it's not logical but we can't help it. i'm always saying this to people in my life: i know how i'm feeling/what i'm doing isn't logical and it doesn't make sense, but i literally can't help it. it's like the sensible you is locked in the back of your brain forced to witness all of your own bs but they're literally powerless to do anything about it.

which is also why i can understand under the hysteria of your own fear of abandonment and hypersensitivity why ben could convince himself callum was gonna leave him for whitney. like ofc i get why ppl would find that unrealistic and offensive, but i can't NOT see him as bpd, and when you have bpd that fear of abandonment is so so incredibly pervasive that you start thinking things like that and convince yourself that they're real. like you genuinely believe them. and someone of sound mind is like 'that doesn't make any sense, he's gay' but like.... that almost is irrelevant to a certain degree. your own belief that you're so unlovable and that everyone is going to leave you holds SO much weight in your mind, more than even reality itself.

like you could almost compare it to hallucination. reality and logic dictates that it's impossible for there to be a man crawling on the ceiling, but if you can see it and hear it and feel it then ofc you're going to believe it's real. reality and logic become irrelevant bc you KNOW it's there, even though it isn't, u know? it's the same kind of thing: reality says ofc callum isn't gonna propose to whitney when he's married and literally gay, but that all-consuming fear of abandonment is so much louder when it says 'he's lying, he's sneaking around w his ex, he's not talking to you about anything, he's got a ring, ofc he's gonna propose to her, she didn't ask him to quit his job or force him into a position where he had to lie for months, ofc he was gonna leave, he just married you out of pity, this is all your fault, you don't deserve happiness or love bc you're a bad person lmao what did you even expect?' etc u know

if i'm being completely honest if i were in ben's shoes i could EASILY see myself being convinced my gay partner is gonna leave me for their ex of the opposite sex. like worryingly easily. and tbh between that and what was going on with kheerat, i actually think he coped surprisingly well. like i genuinely thought that yesterday that if i was in his situation i probably would have reacted much worse and been in much worse a state than he was. and i'm not just saying that, i think his growth since 2019 is obvious in how tame his reaction to it all was tbh.

i realize probably no one will bother but if anyone really is interested and wants to understand more then u should watch this video. i've timestamped it at the first point bc if nothing else u should listen to that bc it helps explain what i've said in a much better way esp the example abt clearing out the garage but the whole video is really good and i would love for some ppl to watch it. like i know it's half hour and that's a long time and also the interviewer is obnoxious and p insensitive but the doctor herself is really good and explains everything i've been trying to explain in a MUCH better way than i ever could and i think it will really help you understand what it's like to be someone bpd and what it actually means for day to day life

like i realize i've completely gone off on one w this and im sorry but i have opinions and i just want people to understand you know?? not necessarily for ben as a character but for all the ppl out there w bpd bc !!!! no one gives a fuck abt us they just misunderstand us and then do literally nothing to try and understand us when we try to explain ourselves so to have ppl actually engaging in this dialogue w me makes me very excited and i try to explain as much as i can while i have the opportunity u know lmao so i very much appreciate you and getting messages like this thank you 💞💞💞

#anon #question #like !!!!! i just have a lot to say !!!!!! im sorry !!!!

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moonflower-31 · 4 years

Text

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist

Part 11

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Basically all the shit in the readers history that hasn’t been mentioned up until this point. (Anxiety, mentions of abuse, stalking, arranged marriage)

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess, @ssahoodrathotchner

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you sure about this?"

You take in a heavy sigh as you adjust the tan trench coat around you. You nod, holding back bitter tears.

"This is for the best, Arthur. I can't marry him. If I stay as a Grant any longer than I have to, he'll kill me. Or use you as leverage to make me change my mind. I can't let him do that." You insist, your (h/c) hair flowing in the wind outside the Atlantic City Airport.

Your brother looks up at you with tear-stained cheeks. Being only 6 years younger than you made him 14. But he was wiser than he should be. He shouldn't have to lose his sister like this. But it was for the best. That was what you kept telling yourself.

"B-but… what about Mom? A-and Dad?" He asked worriedly, his hands picking at the expensive leather jacket that you had passed down to him once he had turned ten. "Don't you want to at least say goodbye to them?"

You grit your teeth as a few choice words threaten to surface. Thankfully, you swallow them. He didn't know. You made sure he didn't know. All he ever knew was that Mom and Dad were always 'busy'. He didn't need to know anything else.

"No, Artie. I don't want to say goodbye to them. They're busy. I don't want to interrupt their meeting. It's just you and me right now." You explain as calmly as you can, giving him the most genuine smile you've ever given someone. You put a gentle hand on his shoulder, pulling him into a hug. He immediately reciprocates it, squeezing you as tight as he could.

"I'm gonna miss you sis." He whimpers into your shoulder. For a kid his age, he was pretty tall. You softly let out a chuckle. He would be taller than you in a few years.

"I'm gonna miss you too, little man. If things calm down, I'll reach out. I'll call you. Promise." You say, holding out your pinky. Arthur sniffles and wipes his tears with his sleeve. He then extends his hand and intertwines his pinky with yours.

"You better not forget me." He insists, letting out a soft chuckle. You laugh softly back, cupping his cheek motherly and wiping away the fresh tears.

"That's impossible, and you know it." You tease, gently pressing a finger to his nose. "Be good. Do what you're told. And follow your dreams, okay? No matter what Mom or Dad say is your destiny, make your own." You beg, squeezing your brother's hand for the last time.

"I will. I love you, (Y/N)."

"I love you too bud."

○●♡●○

"Your what?" Spencer asks in disbelief, his weathered hands never leaving yours. His naturally focused eyes were now confused and frantic, trying to make sense of the words you just uttered to him.

"M-my… my stalker. The part of my past I...I didn't want to get you into. I didn't want to put you in danger." You repeat a little quieter. Most of you wanted to curl up in a ball and die. At least then Peter would stop.

"You had" Spencer stopped himself, letting in a small gasp of disbelief. "--have, a stalker, and you didn't think this was important?" He asks, his voice raising a notch. You flinch and try to pull your hands back on instinct.

Spencer widened his eyes and immediately calmed his voice, taking your hands back into his. "I-i'm sorry, (Y/N). But please… why didn't you tell me?" He asked gentler this time. You let out a nervous breath and close your eyes, attempting to open the file in your brain you so desperately wanted to erase.

"It… it might be better if I just tell you everything. I-if you'll listen to my sappy life story…" you insist, squeezing his hands for comfort. His touch was keeping you grounded for now. At least you had him.

"O-of course, (Y/N). B-but you don't have to. I-I mean… if this is going to hurt you then I don't want you to feel like you have to-" Spencer began to ramble, his hazel eyes weighed with worry. Just like Arthur's.

You stop him with a squeeze of your hands and take a deep breath. Here goes nothing, you think.

"7 years ago, I-I turned 18. My parents are very old fashioned. And they believed that since I was already going back to college and trying to be my own woman since I graduated with my doctorate in psychology that year, that they would arrange me a marriage." The words tasted foul in your mouth, almost making you want to spit them out. Spencer still listened, though he did look at you with a look of concern.

"His name is Peter Calvin. The real-estate broker and investor. At 22 he was vastly rich. And he had everything he wanted. Except a loving wife who doted on him hand and foot. He's a narcissistic bastard who believes he deserves everything he wants. So as you expect, when I turned the proposal down instead of listening to my parents, he was livid. It began with letters. Like this one." You explain, gesturing towards the almost identical envelope next to you. "He would send me gifts, trinkets that I always threw away. No matter how many times my parents arranged for us to meet and try to get along, I always pushed him away. So then after three months, he escalated. He began to call my phone 27 times a day. Blew up my phone with texts. Filled up my email box with 10 or more a day. After that didn't work he began to threaten me. All the while he sent me letters. He would… detail our future together. He even detailed how I would bear him a son first. That we'd name him Oliver. Then I'd bear him a daughter. Name her after his mother." You felt your chest beginning to ache and your heart to pound as fast as a locomotive.

All the while Spencer listened on in the horror of the past you had gone through. This stalker of yours was easily just like many of the unsubs they'd apprehended. Spencer had never had a personal connection with them till now. His eyes were opening to a different side of things. But he stayed quiet, wanting to let you finish your story before he made any attempt to say his piece.

"Eventually he resorted to threatening my brother. Said that he'd kill him and my family if I didn't say yes. So… I said yes." You bit your lip, looking down as tears and a sob came tumbling through you. Spencer pulled you closer to him, embracing you in his arms to allow you to cry. You clung to his cardigan, not caring as much about replacing it this time.

After a few minutes of ugly sobbing, you sniffled and pulled back, wanting to finish the rest of the story. "A-after a year o-of engagement and physical abuse from him I couldn't take it anymore." You let out a half sob, your voice breaking like glass. "S-so I stole a bunch of his money with his credit card and bought myself a ticket down here to Virginia. Gabriel lived down here, and I called him. He offered me a place to stay as long as I went to school and got the education I deserved. So I came here, changed my last name, number and even my social security number. Never looked back." You insist, squeezing Spencer’s forearms where your hands had fallen after he had held you to let you cry.

You let out a long sigh, the tears drying up and tired hiccups were all that remained. "After a while, Gabriel qualified to go into training for the bareau. And I found out I was too. So we both applied. The rest doesn't matter. Just… know this is all sealed stuff. You're the first person other than Gabriel and my other roommate, Iris, to know. I put myself in witness protection to get away from this man. And now…" you trail, unable to finish your own statement.

"(Y/N)..." Spencer spoke, barely a whisper. He didn't know what to say. You just shared with him yet again something no one else on the team knew about you. You trusted him with this.

"I-I know… an FBI agent afraid of some real estate guy. How unique." You laugh bitterly, slowly pulling your knees closer to your chest.

"Actually, I think you were actually brave for making the right decision for everyone, not just yourself." Spencer expressed, still looking at you in shock. The probability of what was in that letter couldn't be good. If they touched it, their DNA would be on it. This was evidence. If they could only find his and you're DNA on it, they could say that you both forged the note to frame Peter. And Spencer wouldn't allow that.

His blood felt hotter than melted iron and his face felt stiff. His jaw locked in place as anger began to fuel him. He had heard this man's name before, when your mother said it to you. If only he had known the impact just saying it had on you. He was angry at Calvin. But also at himself for not deducing that something like this was happening.

"(Y/N)... you kept everyone else safe at the cost of your own comfort. This-This isn't right. He should be in jail for ever touching you like that!" He exclaims, being careful not to raise his voice.

"Yeah, except his lawyer is the best. His lawyer was able to convince the judge to revoke three protection orders I had filed against him. If I even tried to prosecute him, I'd just get thrown in jail instead. I… I'm just gonna have to change everything again. I'll change my w-whole name this time. Change my hair, move again. I don't think I'll even be able to afford one let alone lease one…" you began to ramble, panic quickly rising into your voice.

It was Spencer's turn to silence you with a squeeze to the arms. You look him in the eyes, tears beginning to start another cycle. He reached a hand up and cupped your cheek, wiping away the stranded tears. You stared into his eyes, gazing up into hazel hues.

"Hey… I'm not gonna let you lose everything you've worked so hard for. You are not gonna let him dictate your life. We're gonna bring this to Hotch, okay? Then for now, you'll live with me."

You snap your gaze back towards his eyes after they drifted. Was he serious?!

"Y-you can't be serious, Spence. You shouldn't have to-"

Spencer placed a gentle thumb over your lips and shushed you. "I want to. You need to find a place to stay for now until we get him in custody. So... I'd say my place is safest."

You sniffled a little more, swallowing a lump of gathered excuses in your tightening throat. "A-are you sure about this, Spencer? You don't have two bedrooms, sure I can sleep on the couch…" you began to ponder. "But I'm messy sometimes. Annoying most of the time. And I am most definitely not the most pleasant person to be around in the mornings."

Spencer chuckled and pressed a kiss to the creases in-between your eyebrows. You blush like a cherry as you stop in your tracks and stare up at him in shock. "You were pleasant to be around when you stayed over last time. Even if you end up a grouch who doesn't like socializing before 8, I still want to help you with this. You're… You're my friend."

At this, you threw yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly. You knew deep inside that you really shouldn't be letting him help you. He could get killed, or even kidnapped because of his involvement. But right now, some help was better than no help at all.

"Thank you…" you whisper, squeezing your arms around his neck. Spencer hugs you tightly close to him, slightly burying his head in your shoulder.

"Anything, (Y/N)."

○●♡●○

Hours later, the two of you sat in front of the letter, staring at it and pondering whether or not you should open it. Spencer had grabbed a paper towel and moved it to the coffee table.

You had already called Gabriel and let him know of the situation. He said he called a few of his buddies from his job to watch over the apartment building for the night.

You were now leaning against the tall doctor who was hunched over next to you, equally pondering the same question as you. But probably better than you.

You were exhausted and tired of all the fear and panic. Your eyes were still puffy and you found yourself sniffling every few minutes.

Spencer seemed to notice this however once he moved his gaze from the letter to you. "The handwriting, although made to be elegant, is bold and erratic. He wrote this in a hurry." He attempted, looking back up at you for approval. You took in a heavy breath and nodded, sucking in your bottom lip as you sigh it out.

New approach, Spencer thought.

"(Y/N/N)... I-I think you should get to bed. Try to sleep. We think our best when we're well rested, even in situations like this." He suggests, placing one of his broad hands on your back.

You feel like crumbling underneath his touch from all of the stress. "I don't think I can even try to sleep…" you whimper, leaning closer to him for comfort. "Not alone…"

Spencer frowned down at you. He rubbed your shoulder as he'd seen Morgan do to Garcia. You were hurting. And he didn't know how to fix it. And he was a damn profiler. A doctor. Where was all his knowledge now?

"W-well… what if I came in and laid with you. Would that help?" He asked, turning to look at you.

You thought the suggestion over. Having Spencer Reid in your bed would have normally made you blush like crazy, and made you insist that life was kidding you. But this was different. And as much as you loved Gabriel, he wasn't the type to stay and comfort someone. He cared, sure, but he didn't know how to truly sit and listen to your problems. He was usually the one who offered you a safe place to cry. And wouldn't judge you for it. Spencer, you knew was different.

"Yeah… yeah I think I'd like that…" you reply, biting the inside of your cheek. Spencer smiled at you warmly, sprouting a couple butterflies.

Spencer then stood up and helped you to your feet. His arm wrapped around your middle as he guided you back towards the bedrooms.

"Now your going to have to direct me to which one is which." He comments, looking ahead at the three doors at the end of the hallway. "I think I'd rather not walk into someone else's room and see something I'm not meant to see." He teases, smirking at you. You let out a small chuckle and smile gently, getting Spencer to squeeze you closer.

"It's good to see you smile." He says. Although it got darker the further into the hallway you both ventured, you could still clearly see the love in his eyes as he looked at you.

"It's the door on the right." You instruct, gesturing to the door to your bedroom. The room you would soon be abandoning.

Spencer took out the edge of his shirt from underneath his cardigan and used it to open the door, making you stifle a giggle. Spencer then helped you inside, easing you into your bed. He turned around and closed the door, leaving you to get comfortable in bed.

When he turned around he was met with you curled up in a coocoon made of your comforter. He couldn't help but chuckle as he came over and sat next to you. "I don't suppose you'll be sprouting any wings any time soon, will you?" He teases, scooting closer to you. You huff, some of the blanket falling off your shoulders.

"Shut up, Genius." You tease back, smiling at him as you do.

"No, I don't believe I will. Especially since I just got you to smile." He reveals with an eyebrow raised and a smirk, as if it were a game changing thing. You roll your eyes and nudge him, yawning softly.

"Yeah? Well I think you're gonna get me to fall asleep with jokes like that." You playfully retorted. He laughed and hugged you closer.

"Then my job will be easier than I thought." He teased back. You shake your head and lean it against his shoulder hesitantly. You feel him tense up for a moment, almost too long of a moment. But just as you were going to lift your head up, he loosened up, letting you completely rest your head on his shoulder.

"I...is this okay?" You ask softly, taking in a hard breath.

"Yeah, definitely. You just get the rest you need. I'll be here." He promised. It was then you finally decided to let your guard down and begin to sleep.

You feel his warmth radiating from him, lulling you to sleep along with his gentle touch. He had found a way to hold you through the blankets, and you didn't mind. His thumb caressed your arm as you felt yourself drifting off, easing your fears even more than they already had been.

You had every right to be scared. To be utterly terrified. And you still were. But he made it easier. You began to second guess your own decision not to tell him how you felt. He was here with you when you knew that not that many people would do this for you. Hardly anyone on the team. Garcia and Prentiss might be good for a good cry and pep talk, but that wouldn't have eased you any more than just talking about what your plan of action was with Spencer. Morgan would probably hold you if you asked. But the bedroom was a no-go. JJ was a mother, so she would probably just offer you something to eat to get your mind off of it all. Hotch and Rossi were different people, but you didn't peg them to be cuddlers like this. Spencer was out of his comfort zone with you. And he made no attempt to make it known that he was uncomfortable with it.

You didn't know where you wanted to go from here, other than heading to the BAU tomorrow and asking Hotch for help. But for now, you needed to relax.

So instead, you eased your breathing and began to focus on the quiet hum of the air conditioner, and the gentle kiss to the forehead that you felt just as you drifted away.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer x you #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer x reader fanfic #spencer #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds family

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jadelotusflower · 3 years

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Roundup: August 2021

This month: Jane Eyre, Wide Sargasso Sea, Don’t Call it a Cult, The Secret Garden, Showbiz Kids, Masters of the Universe: Revelation, Lucifer.

Reading Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte) - I’ve been meaning to read the Wide Sargasso Sea for a long, long time, but first I thought I’d revisit the source material. I find my opinion hasn’t much changed - I still love the prose, still love Jane as a character, and still find Rochester extremely unappealing. The section with Jane at school is the most engaging for me, and her early time as a governess at Thornfield, but as soon as Rochester shows up I just find him so irritating I have no idea why Jane loves him so much (other than he was the first man to ever show her a scrap of attention). I mean, I know to an extent - I've read the Takes, and part of fiction is accepting what you want for the character as a reader and what they want for themselves can be two different things, and that's not the fault of the text. I can be satisfied by the ending because Jane gets what she wants, I just can’t help but wonder about a Jane who was found by John Eyre before she went to Thornfield, or who took her inheritance and made her own way after Moor House. Byronic heroes just aren't my thing I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Wide Sargasso Sea (Jean Rhys) - The first Mrs Rochester of Jane Eyre strikes an uneasy tone to a modern reader; she does not utter a word in the novel, is depicted as animalistic and almost demonic, her story only told in a self-serving manner by Rochester, and conveniently disposed of so Jane can return to claim him. Rhys reimagines Bertha as Antoinette, a “white Creole” of Jamaica in a postcolonial take on the racial/social prejudices and hierarchy only hinted at in Eyre, where Bertha being Creole primarily an aspect of her Otherness, and in which Rochester describes himself as being desired as a husband because he was "of good race" . In Sea, although Antoinette is white (passing, perhaps), he sees her "not English or European either" and this contributes to his rejection of her (and perhaps his willingness to believe she is mad). The novel is surprisingly short - it skips over the meeting and courtship of Antoinette and Rochester (tellingly unnamed in the novel) entirely, jumping directly from her childhood/coming of age to the couple already married, and over much of Bertha's (renamed by Rochester) sad life in the attic. Still, there's a density to the writing, much is implied beyond the sparse use of words and recurring imagery - subjugation, reflection, and of course, fire - when freed slaves (Rhys changes the timeframe to after the passing of the Emancipation Act of 1833) set fire to Antoinette's family plantation, a pet parrot whose wings have been clipped by her English step-father Mason, cannot flee and falls to a fiery doom, in a grim omen of Bertha's fate. It did, however, leave me wanting more - I understand Rhys' stylistic choices and restraint, but in her effort to give voice to the voiceless, Antoinette/Bertha remains somewhat an enigma. Don’t Call it a Cult: Keith Raniere and the women of NXIVM (Sarah Berman) - I continue to be disturbed but intrigued by the NXIVM case, not only because of my abhorrence of MLMs/pyramid schemes, but my bafflement as to how this thoroughly unremarkable man was able to hold sway over so many women. My mild criticism of the two documentaries on this subject was that they tended to jump around in time so you never really got a good idea of what happened when. This book provides a well researched, detailed summary of events and linear chronology of Raniere’s perverse pathology reaching all the way back to childhood, and so is both an excellent supplement to the already informed, and broad overview to those new to the case. Berman is a Vancouver-based journalist who was present at Raniere’s trial and gives insight into witness testimony, supported by her own interviews and extensive research. There's less of a focus on the sensationalised celebrity members, with greater emphasis on the lesser known victims - including the three Mexican sisters who were all abused by Raniere, one of whom was kept confined to a room for years. It's difficult reading, consolation being the

knowledge that Raniere is rotting in prison and that his crimes finally caught up with him. Watching The Secret Garden (dir. Marc Munden) - Spoilers, if one needs a spoiler warning for a 110 year old novel. One of those stories that is adapted every generation, and generally I have no problem with this, since new adaptations can often bring something new or be a different take on old material (see Little Women 2019). But a part of me can’t help feel why bother with this when the perfect 1993 version exists. There is an Attempt at something new with this film, moving the setting forward to 1947 (Mary’s parents having died during the Partition), and turning the garden from a small walled secret to a mystical, huge wonderland full of ferns and flowers and endless sun. But in doing so, the central metaphor is lost - rather than Mary discovering something abandoned and run wild, gently bringing it back to life with love and care, she merely discovers a magical place that requires no effort on her part. There’s also less of a character arc for Mary, remaining unpleasant far into the proceedings, forcing Colin to visit the garden instead of it being his true wish, and generally succeeding by imposing her will on everyone else. In many ways she’s more like Burnett's other child heroine Sarah Crewe - the film opens I’m with her telling stories to her doll including Ramayana, which is eerily reminiscent of Alfonso Cuaron's (also perfect) 1995 adaptation of A Little Princess. But I suppose a sliver of credit where it's due - Julie Walters' Mrs Medlock is less of an antagonist, with Colin Firth's Lord Craven being Mary's primary obstacle. There's also a subplot with Mary's mother's depression following the death of her sister being the reason for her neglect (and Merlin alum Rupert Young shows up briefly as Mary's father) but like shifting the time period, there just doesn't seem to be a point to it. The climax of the film involves the Manor burning down (writer Jack Thorne stealing from Rebecca too, lol), with Mary and Craven have a very calm conversation as fire and smoke surrounds them. It’s all very bizarre, but also…rather dull? Don't bother with this, just watch the 1993 film again. Showbiz Kids (dir. Alex Winter) - a really interesting documentary on the titular subject - Winter was himself a child actor on Broadway before his film career kicked off in The Lost Boys and Bill and Ted, and has been able to assemble a broad range of interview subjects - Mara Wilson, Evan Rachel Wood, Wil Wheaton, Jada Pinkett Smith among others - former child actors, those still in the business, and some up and comers like Disney star Cameron Boyce (who I was sad to see in the coda has passed away). We also follow two young hopefuls - Marc, attending acting classes and auditioning in pilot season, yet to book a job but his parents are invested in "his" dream, and Demi, already established on Broadway but having to start to make choices between a career and a childhood. There's no voiceover, no expert opinions in this, letting the actors speak for themselves, but there is a telling juxtaposition of Marc returning home, jobless but having fun in the pool with his friends, while Demi has to cancel the summer camp she had been so looking forward to because she has booked a new role. The film is fairly even handed, but ultimately I took away that there just seems to be more harm than not in this industry, and abuses of many kinds. It does make you wonder about the ethics of child acting, at least in the current system where the cautionary tales are plentiful. Masters of the Universe: Revelation (episodes 1-5) - Mild spoilers I guess? I was never really into He-Man as a kid, other than the Secret of the Sword movie, so most of the in jokes and references in this went over my head. I have to admit, it was actually seeing all the outrage that made me want to check this out and see what all the complaining was about. I actually…really enjoyed it?!? I’m sympathetic to the complaints of a bait and switch (creators really need to learn to say

“just wait and see”), but other than that in my view the rest seemed completely unfounded. Adam/He-Man being killed in the first episode and the impact that has on Eternia and those left behind is actually a really interesting premise. This isn’t a TLJ situation; in contrast everyone (except Evil-Lyn) is always going on about how much they miss Adam, and the whole point of the first arc is him coming back. There’s also a nice little detail of Adam in Preternia (heroes heaven) choosing to remain as he is rather than as He-Man where all his predecessors have chosen their “ultimate” forms. I love him and his Magical Girl transformation. As for Teela - female characters can’t win, it seems. If they are perfect, they’re Mary Sues, if they have flaws, they’re unlikeable. Teela is Going Through things and is on a journey, but I often feel (and it seems the case here) that people confuse a character arc with author intent. No! Just because a character says/does something it doesn't mean you're supposed to agree with them! Some of Teela's actions may be petty and her demeanor less than sweet, but people make bad choices as a response to grief, and I actually thought her anger over Adam never telling her his secret and how that manifested was a pretty interesting take. I'll be interested to see the next half of the season, and ignore the ragebait youtube commentary. One more thing - Evil-Lyn (perfectly voiced by Lena Headey) was an absolute delight. Lucifer (season 5 part 2): They’ve basically given up on the procedural side of things by now and are leaning heavily into the mythology, which works for me since the case of the week is always the least interesting part of any show. It also struck me this season that there’s gender parity in the main cast (Lucifer, Amenadiel, Dan and then Chloe, Maze, Ella, Linda) - and actually, that’s more women than men. How often does that happen?!? I can’t say I’m particularly engaged with the Lucifer/Chloe pairing, but am happy to go along with it since that’s where the whole plot revolves. The best scenes for me this season were with God’s Dysfunctional Family, even if the lead up to the finale felt rushed (I understand the need to wrap things up in case of cancellation but still). I would have liked to see more of the sibling dynamics between the angels and less romantic drama, but hey. The character death got me, as well. I didn't see it coming and I didn't realise how much I had enjoyed that character until they were gone and well...it got me. I see the last season is coming soon, I'm not exactly sure where they can go from here, but looking forward to it nonetheless. Writing I was actually quite sick this month with a throat infection, so wasn't in the best frame of mind to get anything finished like I had planned to. I'm going to hold off posting the word count this month and roll it over to September when hopefully I've actually posted things.

#roundup #reading watching writing #august roundup

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