#He has the most white man ass fashion sense ever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tobifuyu · 1 year

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Shopping with the Haitani Ran goes wrong!

RAN HAITANI x f!reader

Ran thinks you're too cute to be dressing this badly. He takes you shopping, finally gives in to his own desires and touches you in the dressing room. Chaos ensues.

cw: nsfw, mdni, smut, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial.

words count: 5,398

a/n: this is actually my first time writing smut, or anything at all, so bear with me. the one shot is part of a longer fic that I will start posting pretty soon, set in the Bonten timeline, I just wanted to put out something in the meantime, mostly as practice. english is not my first language! enjoy.

If you think shopping with a man such as Haitani Ran would be an enjoyment of sorts, well, you’d be wrong.

If your damnation could be encased in a day it would be today out of all of them.

Haitani Ran is already a handful as it is, put him in a store-filled street, already dressed to the nines and parading around like he owns the motherfucking moon and stars and what comes out is a big ass headache and a lot of self-deprecation.

In theory, the idea was not half bad. Ran knows a lot about this kind of stuff: fashion, styling, brands… at least more than you do, no matter how much you’d like to keep up. And the amount of money in his bank account is – well, still a mystery to you – you can only imagine a lot, considering what he is wearing and the place he’s dragging you to with a big hand wrapped around your wrist.

So in theory him helping you pick out a few pieces of clothing you could buy with your weekly allowance didn’t sound too bad. Considering how extravagant he and his brother are, you were expecting to head over to Harajuku, and maybe try to dig out something he could style for you from a cool vintage store.

You didn’t think he would bring you to a mall.

You don’t even think you’d be allowed in such a place, normally, not in the way you’re dressed anyway.

I mean, you did try your hardest to look somewhat presentable, knowing you’d be running around with the Haitani Ran, but with your laughable budget and a very confused sense of style, you look like Ran had just picked you up from the sidewalk like one of those lone puppies you’d see in a sad movie and brought you around to keep him company while squatting at his feet and wiggling your tail.

You’ve just always liked too many trendy styles, buying a few pieces here and there and leaving you with no basics and nothing to match them with, and so y ou look out of place, walking into a brand store practically hand in hand with one of the most handsome guys those judgy store clerks have probably ever seen, with a timeless and classy outfit that makes him look like he belongs there.

And most importantly, that he can afford it.

Maybe the only thing that makes up for it is his crazy two-toned braids. Doesn’t make him look nearly as bad as you, but at least you know how to use a toner.

He spends some time looking around the racks after shooing the shopping assistant who tried to approach the two of you away, and you trail behind him like – yeah, you guessed it – a lost puppy with eyes cast down, as if trying to disappear, maybe then they’d stop staring holes through your bland white cardigan that’s a little too big for your frame since you eyeballed its size and then found it too comfy to size down.

And that’s because you and fitting rooms just don’t click. You find the whole process a little too tiring, both mentally and physically.

Who enjoys spending that much time undressing yourself to wear clothes that have been worn by god knows how many others and have yet to see a washing machine, just to cry the moment you get them on because fast fashion sizes don’t fit people but want people to fit in them? Also having to recollect yourself and patch up your makeup while redressing as quickly as possible cause a line has already formed outside the door, you can hear them, and you can already feel their judging stares the moment you are gonna leave all the clothes you tried on with the clerk, nonetheless, cause everything looked like absolute shit on you–

Draining, that’s what it is.

But it’s dread that you feel creeping up on you while approaching the said fitting rooms with one of Ran’s arms now circling your waist, the other doing the most to hold up a bunch of clothes that you can barely make out but you know he has picked out, just for you.

“We can skip this part.”

You had tried reasoning, just to get hit with a “Skip this part my ass, there’s no buying clothes without trying them on. That’s how you end up with that cardigan. And I’m paying for this shit, so we’ll do as I say, princess.”

Ouch, what a little bitch.

Maybe you shouldn’t be feeling remorse, after he’s reminded you so kindly of why he’s decided to do this in the first place, knowing he wants to pull out his wallet to soothe his pretty eyes from having to see you dressed like a mess all the time.

But you’re better than this, so you decide you’ll only pick something you can afford.

He’s nothing to you but a new acquaintance, after all.

A means to an end, you like to remind yourself. You’re not using him, not a hundred percent at least, cause he’s getting your shining company in return. But yeah… you just need him to get to Manjirou. Nothing more. Nothing fun… you swear to yourself.

You’re doing Toman a favor, continuing Draken’s underground work now that he’s gone. You know Takemichi and sweet Chifuyu don’t add up to much when it comes to planning.

You’ve heard about Ran’s little fixation on you from the grapevine. His own brother had admitted to him relentlessly talking about you. And now, with Kantou Manji looming over the future of you all, you knew you had to get involved.

It has nothing to do with the fact that Ran’s lazy lavender eyes have had you in a chokehold from the very first time the two of you met, years ago.

He and Rindou wanting to fight you and your brother – only the latter, really – just to find out that you don’t back down from a challenge.

(From that day onward, if you were to ask Rindou, he would say that’s when his brother started talking about you.)

So you let him lock you in the fitting room, one of those cool ones with mirrors and lights all around you but, most importantly, a sturdy door.

One you know, in a store this expensive, no one will start knocking on if you take too long squeezing into one of those tiny dresses.

Not that it does anything to stop Ran once you’ve declared you’ve tried on the first one.

A pretty lilac piece, that would complement him and his eyes more – you mentally decide you’d like to see that – but you would look pretty (for once) standing at his side.

If it weren’t for the fact that it’s a tad too little on your frame, as expected, squeezing all the wrong places, skin spilling over and all that (you can’t possibly know he’s picked it a size or two too small on purpose).

Especially your cleavage, meaning this is all but a dress you could just wear to parade around the streets with a gang member. It would send the wrong message. And god knows what would happen if that message were to reach someone from Toman. A blond-haired guy in particular.

Shame on you.

But you can’t dwell on it too much, with Ran bursting through the door, then closing it behind his frame with all the nonchalance in the world, as if it isn’t quite scandalous the way you’re half clad and enclosed in a tight space with a man older than you (not by much, but still), in a luxury store, with clerks circling the both of you like hawks.

He approaches your body, and you can tell he’s making a decision his head while scrutinizing the dress, or rather you, from over your shoulder.

You’re facing forward and can feel the heat of his body approaching way before you feel his front touch your back, his hands momentarily settling at your hips.

They then move lower, trying to smooth the fabric of the dress as if it would make it fit better, and you feel a shiver run through your spine at the contact.

The tips of his fingers are cold where they brush your naked thighs, so you blame it on that.

“Looks perfect on you.” his warm breath hits your neck as he speaks with that low voice of his.

Focus, goddamnit.

“I hope you’re joking. I can barely breathe, and I think my ass might be hanging out.”

You can feel his body shake with giggles, and you know he’s trying to contain them for your sake, even though he’s never been the one to shy away from public shaming, especially when it comes to you. Sigh.

“Mh, I don’t know about that, but the front looks good.” His hands make a b-line for your waist, squeezing the fat there before moving upwards to rest a breath away from your tits. The dress is so tight you didn’t need to wear a bra with that. “Gosh, would you look at that? Fucking perfect.”

“Ran,” you warn him, you know he’s just teasing you again, or rather, testing you.

You meet his eyes in the reflection of the mirror, and you don’t want him to win one of the many little challenges he poses you with daily, so you hold his gaze, leaning the back of your head against his left shoulder.

He’s sure you’re the one tempting him at this point, deciding to play along in his little game that’s gonna ruin the both of you sooner or later, cause with that movement alone you’ve exposed your neck and cleavage like a white canvas, only his to paint.

“Fuck baby,” he groans and you feel yourself shivering once again, “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you? Or maybe you do, you little vixen.”

You laugh, “Is that all it takes to bring down the Haitani Ran? A dress that’s a little too small?” you want to hit his ego back, at least, for the way he’s making you feel.

So exposed and vulnerable.

And little, which you’re very much not, but the way he’s encasing you with his bigger body is making you look ridiculously tiny.

“Paired with these tits and hips yeah, might just be the one thing that’s gonna put an end to the Haitani’s reign.”

It’s mesmerizing, his tone of voice, the deep baritone laced with a hint of teasing and sass that drips from his lips like honey straight to your pliant ears and reverberates through your even more pliant body.

One of his fingers creeps up to the neckline of the dress and drags over its seams with such a delicately that you wouldn’t even have caught it if you weren’t so busy trying to follow his every move and breath, leaving the haze of his purple eyes that split second enough to record the very movement.

“Ran, I don’t think this is appropriate.” You try to hide your smirk as you say that, knowing that is not gonna stop him but rather rile him up.

He smirks back, grabbing you by the chin with his free hand so he can turn your head to face him. “Since when have you become such a prude, uh?”

“I have always been, you’re the one trying to taint my innocence, remember?”

You’re not completely joking at this point, he’s been trying to get a reaction out of you since you’ve started hanging out more frequently.

He knows you shouldn’t, but he’s adamant in getting you to admit he can rile you up just as easily.

A dark set of lashes shade his lavender hues as he stares down at you, pondering over what to do next without scaring you too badly.

“Can I kiss you?” There he goes, he just couldn’t resist himself, could he?

You just look so good, dressed in something he picked for you, standing in this tiny space with him draped around you. He wants to eat you up.

“No.”

Ouch. That hurts. How could you say no to him? Look at me, he thinks, and as if you can read his twisted mind, you do just that.

He is so irresistible, with one of his long braids slipping past your shoulder, hair tickling your skin the same way his hand is still doing over the hem of the dress. Pink full lips shaped in a pout you think he’s sporting more to get pity out of you rather than because he cares. But you’re a woman of great self-control.

Or so you thought.

“Just– you can touch me. To fix the dress.”

You two are so close, practically glued to each other, it’s not the first time it’s happened but your body still reacts like it’s being shocked every time he touches you.

And Ran thinks it’s more than he thought you’d allow yourself to go, so he does just that, to fix the dress, that is.

It’s to fix the dress that he grasps the fullness of both your tits in his big palms, no need to use one hand to hold your face to him anymore as you instantly rotate towards his frame to hide your face in the curve of his neck, soft lips pushed against his pale skin to muffle the sighs that you’re letting out at his bold move.

He doesn’t hesitate to squeeze them, pushing them up to prop the fat against the hem of the dress as if to make it fit properly, or as properly as the set image he has in his head, which is everything but proper.

“Fuck, you have such pretty tits.” He’s groaning in your ear at this point, enjoying the way you’re letting him touch you a little too much if the way he starts rubbing against you from behind is of any indication.

You can’t help your body from trying to mold to his touch, back arching and pushing against the hands caressing you over the skimpy fabric of the dress.

One of them is heading lower, running over the hills of your torso and hip before grabbing onto the flesh of your right thigh. The other keeps teasing you with precision and reaches over the hem to pull it down and expose your skin to the cold of the fitting room.

A perked nipple is encased by his long fingers, nails scraping over the bud to tease a soft moan out of your mouth. You grab onto one of his braids, slightly pulling before blindly looking for the hair tie. It’s removed with swift hands that you then run along its length to free it from the twists, so you can bury a hand at the back of his nape, pulling him towards you – as if he could get any closer – scratching the skin there as payback.

“R-Ran” your body is starting to heat up, the cold air surrounding the two of you doing nothing to cool you down. “‘Need more, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely…” At that the hand that has been massaging the fat of your thigh creeps under the bottom of the infamous dress, making you unable to see his next move even from the reflation of the mirror.

But you can feel him skimming over your panties with his fingertips, pressing against the wet patch that has formed there.

“You got wet just from this? Must be really desperate, uh. ‘ve barely touched you.”

What a piece of shit, you think.

But your body likes this side of his, the degrading and teasing, and it especially likes the way the pad of his finger is now pressing against your clit, unexpectedly making you let out a moan that you didn’t think you’d be capable of. Always the quiet one.

“Shh, you wouldn’t want them to hear us, now, would you?” He’s rubbing circles against the bundle of nerves, touching it just right, just like you would, alone in your room (while thinking about him, probably), making it hard to think or even remotely feel shame. “Maybe you’d like that? Mh? Want them to know making you feel good, right, pretty girl?”

When you don’t care enough to answer he pinches your clit over the wet fabric of your underwear, the whimpering noise you let out like music to his ears.

You just really want to feel his skin on yours, but too shy to ask for it you decide to do the next best thing. With the hand that is not too busy pulling the back of his head, you reach between your legs and push the fabric of your panties aside, exposing your pussy to the air without a care in the world.

If desperation had a face, at this point, it would most definitely look like yours.

“Ah shit, pretty-“

“Touch me, Ran.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He finds your clit once again, not before running through the dripping folds and collecting the wetness with the pad of his fingers, just to rub it over your soft spot with careful precision.

His hand gives one final flick to your nipple before joining the other between your thighs, raising the lower hem of the dress to fully expose your wetness under the bright lights of the fitting room, just so he can take a good look in the reflection of the mirror.

You’re no saint, but also no one has ever touched you like this before, and the pleasure is pushing you to do things you probably would never even think of when the two of you are apart (but maybe you will, from this day forward).

That is why you reach down to grasp the wrist of his other hand, redirecting him to where you want to feel his touch, before slipping your fingers through his as if to show him what to do to you.

You feel his lips move against your ear before you register him talking, “Princess, you want my fingers? Hm?”

At that, you couldn’t nod faster, waiting for his touch to finally skim your opening, and once it does, you know he understands how much you need him, cause you see him raise his fingers as if to take a double look at the viscous liquid now wetting his skin. He rubs it over you then, spreading it on top of your clit to make his other hand work smoothly.

He stops right before he could slip in, making you whine in disagreement. “Need to hear you say it, baby.”

All these pet names are new to you, he usually sticks to one a day, trying them out on his tongue before throwing the chosen one at you with the most annoying tone he could muster to, simply put, annoy the fuck out of you, as he does with pretty much everything else.

But the way he’s saying them now, between rushed breaths and a voice so strained that nearly makes you believe he’s the one being played with, does unspeakable things to you.

So you give in like you’ve learned to do with him lately. “R-rannie, please, want you… to touch me.”

“What do you need me to do, pretty? Speak up, use your big girl’s words.”

“Need your fingers. Inside me.” You feel like the air in the dressing room is thinning out, and you need to get this done as fast as possible.

That’s until his pointer slips past your hole. The moment his other fingers resume their rubbing over your bundle of nerves, while he’s opening you up, that’s when you actually start praying for time to stop.

Maybe if his hands were to leave your frame now you would crumble to the ground and die. That’s a new fear you have just unlocked because you don’t think you could ever go back to how life was before he made you feel what you’re feeling right now.

Alive.

Like every nerve ending is tingling and responding to the sweet sounds he’s making, or maybe the ones he’s pulling out of you. You don’t know what makes you more turned on, the effect you have on him, or the grip he has on you.

He starts moving his lone finger in and out, gently, testing out how far he can reach before you clench around him in pain.

He rubs over the ridges of your walls looking for something, trying out different patterns, and bumping against the outside of your hole with the palm of his hand to stimulate all of you once he slips completely inside, reaching as deep as his long digit permits.

At first, it doesn’t feel like much, you can tell he’s an expert but he’s just getting to know you. You think the feeling of fullness alone is enough to get a kick out of you, as long as he keeps massaging your clit in a, now, slower motion, as if he has nothing to rush about, not one care in the world. But it creeps up on you when you least expect it.

You thought he oversold himself with that oozing confidence that he sports 24/7, but as he starts laying open-mouthed kisses over your neck, running up its column, until he finds your sweet spot nested just below your ear and right by your clenching jaw, so does his finger.

“Fuuck. Oh my fucking god.” you heave.

Yeah, his lips are a godsend, but the way he’s bumping against that one spot inside of you with the tip of his digit just now is downright delicious.

He builds up a rhythm then. Fucking into you with more force and confidence, not forgetting to hit that patch of skin even for a single time.

“You like that, uh?” he asks like he doesn’t know, pressing his mouth against the underside of your jaw to drag his tongue along your salty skin, moaning at the taste. He asks as if you’re not clenching around his finger like your life depends on it, as if you want to capture it and hold him inside you to never feel empty again.

He realizes you need more, and he wants to give you his cock. Wants to stuff you full to the brim, cause he can feel how greedy your cunt is, so he knows you would eventually take him all inside, no matter how big.

You’re thinking the same, imagining how good it would feel to have him fuck you against the mirror that’s fogging up in front of you. You’re seeing the moon and the fucking stars with the tip of his finger alone. You wonder if his cock is big enough to kiss that little spot just right with his leaky tip.

He leaves you little to wonder, with the way his hips are bumping against you from behind. You can clearly make out the size of his length, now fully erected, as it rubs against your ass.

“Ran, fuck, I need more!”

And you both know that, but he also knows how ridiculously tight you are, how much he would have to open you up to take his cock, how he might need to spend hours with his head between your legs, fasting on your wet cunt just to make you loosen up. He’d do that gladly, but not now, in this fitting room.

So he just joins his pointer with his middle finger, carefully trying to fit in a second one through your squeezing muscles.

“No, Ran-“ you’re ready to beg, get on the ground on your knees, and plead him to have his way with you.

This is so not like you.

Or maybe it was, all along. You just needed someone to free you at last.

“You’re not ready to take my cock yet.” His tone is firm like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. “I can barely fit two fingers in, pretty. You need to let me in, gonna make you cream around them, ‘kay?”

You swear the way he’s looking at you through the mirror alone is your undoing. You see his eyes running back and forth to your half-open ones, so you follow the gaze rolling over your exposed tits, heaving with your labored breaths, until reaching the apex of your thighs.

Two of his fingers are now plunging into your wet opening, the squelching sound being so loud to tint both of your cheeks red, and a ring of white collecting around the circumference of his digits, before dripping down your parted legs at the force of his thrusts. Your clit is still being rubbed raw, the intensity increasing with every passing minute, making you twitch in his firm grasp.

The whole picture is insanely erotic, something you haven’t even experienced in your fantasies yet.

It’s so intense that you feel your cheeks get wet from the unexpected tears now streaming down your face.

You’re a cryer, he’s elated.

You’re trying hard to muffle a scream, but Ran has you blocked in his grasp with both of his arms running over yours, so you have to turn and bite at the skin of his collarbone to do so, as you grip over his forearms, leaving behind the half-moon indentation of your nails.

He groans, letting his head lol back as you lick over the bruise; the skin has torn and you can taste the blood. As he speeds up the fingers that are massaging your clit, you realize that both of you might enjoy a little pain mixed with pleasure.

The overstimulation is so overbearing that you know you should’ve come long ago, but he’s taking you to such heights that you just can’t seem to let yourself go when alone in your bed you would have long given up and just taken a shitty orgasm as a win before retiring to sleep.

“Feel so- god, it’s so fucking good, Ran. Don’t stop, please please-“You don’t stop begging and he doesn’t stop thrusting, both his fingers and his hips behind your frame, chasing his orgasm against the plush of your ass.

He wants to pull his cock out of his pants and rub it against your skin. The dress has raised over the globes of your behind, he wishes he could just come all over it.

But he has no intention of ever slowing down his hands, not with the way you’re trembling against him, and not until you come, completely undone and fucked up from just two of his fingers.

You look so beautiful like this, with tears streaming down your reddening face, lips bitten, unfortunately not by him, and your cunt taking his fingers so well. Like the good girl he knows you are under all that sass.

He glances down at the scene one more time.

Your pussy is so pretty, glistening wet, he could finish right here and then.

He wants you to fucking come while screaming his name, no one else’s. He doesn’t care if they hear, he wants them to.

Ran wishes for more than just the clerks hearing you come undone for him.

At that thought something snaps inside of him.

“Who’s making you feel this good? Fucking tell me.” You snap out of the blubbering mess you’ve become, not because of the inexplicably angry tone of his request, but because he’s slowing down his movements and you were not expecting that.

Does he not know by now that you like his roughness? You need to come so badly.

“Please fuck don’t stop, please-“

“I said who’s making you feel this fucking good.” Ran doesn’t like to think he’s a jealous guy.

He’s The Haitani Ran, after all. There has never been any need for him to be.

But now that he has tasted heaven, here in this tiny dressing room with you, he doesn’t think he can stop.

He wants to make you his, and if that means he has to deprive you of your very first orgasm given by someone else so that you can come back running for more, so be it.

“You, Ran! Fuck it’s all you! You make me feel so go-” The slap that resonates in the small space it’s the thing that stops you from completing your praise.

Ran’s fingers have stopped moving inside of you completely, and his other hand has raised to slap your spasming cunt.

A scream of his name finally does rip out of your parted lips. There’s no way you could’ve avoided that.

And the new canting of your hips that are raising to chase a ruined orgasm is to little avail, you just don’t seem to reach the promised land.

Against all odds, Ran doesn’t resume touching you, even his hips are now resting firmly some inches away from yours, not even letting you feel him anymore.

He presses father light kisses from the column of your neck up to the side of your jaw, retracing the path he had run with languish before, until he can sweetly kiss your burning cheek as if to gently bring you down from the orgasm that never happened while he removes his fingers from inside of you, leaving you eerily empty.

“I- I didn’t come.” you’re still trembling at this point, but for a different reason. You think he might have mistaken any of your reactions for you reaching your long-awaited end.

You’ve heard some stories, you know some guys can’t even tell right from left when it comes to a woman's body.

But you’re wrong about him. “I know.”

More kisses are left on the side of your face, you’d think the gesture sweet if it weren’t for the ever-present grin you can feel against your skin.

“What- why?” the way you’re asking nearly breaks his heart, you sound so confused, broken. But that’s exactly what he needs, right? He needs to be the one to guide you.

“Because I’m not letting you come. You’re not my girl.” Your eyes are big like saucers, and you’ve turned your head to stare at him, he thinks this situation is so fun he could giggle.

“But I thought-“

“Just leave him, pretty girl. You’ve already forgotten about him, haven’t you? It was my name you were screaming, it was my cock you were begging for. Leave him, and come back crawling to me. Maybe then, I’ll think about letting you come.”

He takes some steps further away from you then, cold but still careful enough to make sure you won’t fall the moment he lets you on your own, bringing his soiled fingers up to his mouth. You watch in silence as he licks them clean. He’s making a show of it, engulfing the digits in his mouth and sucking around them as he moans. You’re so turned on you could die right there and then.

He then hits you with a “Fuck, you taste like heaven, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Before diving right back in, licking the skin one last time for safekeeping.

And now, you don’t know what’s worse: the cheshire grin stretching the pinkish of Ran’s lips while he’s downright degrading you after depriving you of an orgasm and, honestly, your self-respect;

Maybe it’s the fact that sweet Chifuyu’s face had only flashed behind your eyelids at his mention, after you’ve probably done one of the worst things you could ever do to him, or in your life, really;

… or the fact that you had to walk out of there, and wait for Ran to pay for the stained dress, cause he wouldn’t let you leave without making a scene. Knowing damn well that everyone in the shop had heard the two of you and is now looking with a mix of: reverence towards Ran, and hatred for you, by all women and men who rightfully wished to be in your stand.

At the end of the day, you were right. Fitting rooms would ever only leave you a crying mess, with clothes too little to fit; and shopping with Ran Haitani was hell made on earth.

At least you were convinced this was gonna be the last time you would ever accompany him – anywhere, really – or so you thought…

#ran haitani #ran smut #ran haitani smut #ran x reader #ran haitani x reader #ran x you #ran haitani x you #ran x y/n #ran haitani x y/n #ran x oc #ran imagines #ran haitani imagines #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers #haitani brothers #haitani rindou

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brakingpoint · 2 years

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breaking away from my commitment to not being a tinhat blog to briefly give my 2 cents on which drivers i think are gay/bi

max: bisexual but will never fully consciously realise due to his desperation to settle down into a white picket fence 2.5 kids and 2 cats marriage with kelly. perhaps, subconsciously, that is why he is so quick to settle. so his cock does not have time to wander

checo: cheats like a straight man. will kiss the homies after a beer or two but always remembers to say no homo because gay activities aren't very catholic

charles: i know he's Not French but he's gay in a french way, where if you don't have a deeply tragic homoerotic bond at least once in your life they revoke your citizenship but it doesn't actually count as being gay

george: things i did not learn at oxford - proper orchestration technique, anything about non-brazilian hip hop, the different types of augmented sixths. things i DID learn at oxford: george russell would lick his best mate's nipples at the bullingdon club party for the photo op but he would staunchly refuse to identify as anything other than straight

lewis: on the one hand i think he is actually genuinely gay or bi and will come out publicly within the next five years. on the other hand only the worst kind of straight man could have done that to nicole scherzinger's boob

carlos: he's not gay but he IS in a deep long term open relationship with lando

lando: see above. also i used to watch dan and phil and i see no other explanation for whatever the situation is with him and max fewtrell. he's bisexual i know it in my soul

esteban: god love him but that is a heterosexual man. a charmingly sexless one but a heterosexual nonetheless

fernando: will fuck other men as an intimidation tactic only but he's never needed to resort to that because he's intimidating enough already

valtteri: not an iota of gayness in him. heterosexual wife guy. ass fixation easily explained away by being finnish

seb: BISEXUAL KING, NO OTHER COMMENT

daniel: he has successfully gaslit everybody into thinking he's bisexual due to his relentless flirtations with other men but it's all part of the brand. he has never, ever won a game of gay chicken

kevin: no.

pierre: once again, gay in a french way but ALSO gay in a gay chicken way with yuki and against all odds they both won like katniss and peeta in the hunger games

lance: despite his gay little voice everything about him and his ex has me confident that he not only fucks exclusively heterosexually, but he fucks WELL

mick: i think there's a lil sumn sumn there. i don't know if or when it will ever come to light. but i don't think he's one hundred percent committed to straighthood. maybe it's bisexual osmosis from having seb as a mentor

yuki: DOES identify as straight but also identifies as never ever losing a game of gay chicken so now he and pierre have been fucking nightly for approximately several months and it's getting increasingly romantic each time

zhou: remember when we all used to say metrosexual in the early 2000s to describe a straight man with the fashion and grooming sense of a gay man?

alex: he and lily absolutely have bi4bi energy in every aspect of their online posting and that is why they are thee superior formula one couple

nicky: straight but i could fix him

bonus 1 (nyck): a man that short has to adapt to maximise his dating pool. it's basic evolutionary theory or something idk i dropped biology after gcses

bonus 2 (hulk): no.

bonus 3 (nico rosberg): the most flagrantly bisexual individual i have ever seen in my life and i look in the mirror daily

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horizon-verizon · 1 year

Note

Thank you for recommending more amazing blogs!

I'll be sure to check them out!

and oh my god I know right the costumes?

and listen,okay,they aren't even a little accurate for any kind of time period they are supposedly represting but on top of all that they are also so boring and bland?

Like okay for peasants sure,they have better things to do that worry about fashion but this is royalty come on!

Especially if it is supposed to be a statement!

Don't get me started on wigs,the one that offends the most other than the entire Velarayion family is Daemon's!

Like look what they did to my boy?

Matt Smith is a very attractive man with very unique features and from what I saw short hair suits him best.

And yeah I know he has long hair in the books but if you can some many liberties with everything else surely it wouldn't bee asking too much right?

I think I love him when returns from the stepstones the best other than the ugly ass crown.

that hairstyle suits him.keep that.

Aemond's actor has a face that is suited for the long wig keep that

Heleana is actually invisible most of the time so I don't mind the wig

I guess we can forgive the Aegon one too,looks a little too fake sometimes tho,the man is pretty so he looks good anyway I guess

while on subject of hair and wigs, Rhaenyra's when I read the book I kinda imagined Lucretia from the Borgias or something?The elaborate hairstyles and all?

Meanwhile what is up with Rhaenys,didn't she have darker hair in the books?

I swear to God these writers put everyone in the wig and made absolutely everyone not distinctive so that whole Rhaenyra has bastards more obvious.

Kinda reminds me of that whole Cersei and her kids debacle when hair was used as distinctive trait because apparently all of Robert's bastards had dark hair and that therefore mean she is cheating and like?

Ok I know she is but that is most flimsy excuse for some cucking someone ever?

Like did Robert have a Lannister bastard somewhere?How do you know that Lannister genes just aren't stronger huh?

But yeah feudal society and all that jazz.

But seriously when I saw that they cast mostly black actors as Velarayion's I was kinda confused?

I don't particularly care either way but like they weren't in the books were they?

Kinda felt to me like they were leaning really hard into that Rhaenyra's kids are bastards obviously because look they are all white as hell or something?

Like I hope it's not something like that but that casting makes no sense and of course everyone was amazing in the miniscule roles they had but if this is supposed to be some sort of representation for anyone,they really dropped the ball?

They seemed to be kinda portray as greedy and bitter or just not important at all?

Rhaenys is old and bitter and overall a moron in Aegon's coronation scene, doesn't seem to have any connection to any of her family despite growing up with them?

Corlys just seems to be there to be disseagred by Viserys and Otto both for being too greedy.

Laenor is just a witless gay love interest.

Laena is crazy and delusional and completely unimportant and apparently content being Daemon's doormat despite having the biggest fuck off dragon there?

I saw people saying her death was epic?it was stupid,what it was,was stupid.

Traumatic for her kids and Daemon, horrifying for herself and it manages to make everyone in that keep look like an absolute moron how exactly did that heavily pregnant woman manage to escape all of you?

Like it comes off as surface level cool her and Rhaenys both but then you consider it and it's actually a dumb,like remember the time Daenerys burned all the food vagons or whatever in season 6/7?

This is worse.

And that's this whole family,Baela and Rhaena don't even have a character other than to show that Daemon sucks as a dad despite the fact Laena would have kicked his ass for it and aslo why would he a terrible father?I don't understand this take?

And of course the one scene that involves the Velarayion's is when Daemon the crazy white guy inbred supremacist went and killed the innocent completely in the right random brother of Corlys that spoke the truth about Rhaenyra and her kids despite the fact that every normal ruler would have them killed too,all so the mainstream audience can yell afoul about racism and white privilege and crazy Targaryens and Daemon the psycho?They literally recreated Ned's execution here but with racial implication,with Daemon being Joffrey and the executioner here and this is somehow respectful and we'll handled to anyone?

Not saying that black actors can't be villians or be killed by white villians but I am just saying that an obvious social justice racial implication was tried here.

Everyone here comes across as one dimensional and bland expect Daemon and they keep giving the Greens more and more poor baby traits but it clashes so badly with their established characters that it gives a whiplash?

Like I am not sure if I should be concerned or not,I go to ao3 and Aemond is one of the most popular characters,tho this is usually common when a character is unbelievably bland,blank and boring and a conventionaly attractive actor plays them,so what does that say about this character?

People rewrite him to suit their needs I guess.

No but seriously,they gave the Green characters sad backstories but no character to speak off and agency,not to mention on top of all that because they changed so much characters come across as idiots.

Especially with all this fantasy bullshit too.

Heleana sees the future, doesn't do shit with it other exposition because they established it so poorly that they need to remind you somehow that this story ended in a bloody dynastic dispute.

Because really what does Rhaenyra and Aegon have with each other?They haven't spoken to each other once!

Why is Aegon convinced that Rhaenyra is good for the throne when he's been raised by anti black team and doesn't know her personally?

Why doesn't she want the throne is he that aware and concerned about his short comings and yet he doesn't absolutely anything to change it and the people in the Green team just apparently love miserable people who apparently the entire world is against that refuse to shit for themselves and expect pity from you?

Seriously the coronation is a out to happen and this guy is in a brothel?Okay that should tell us he doesn't respect the position,terrible spoiled,privileged etc but no apparently that was him trying to not get crowned or something?

Seriously the plot is trying really hard to make you sympathize with him but like okay of he was supposed the spoiled privileged son of the king and he doesn't want the throne and yet he is still here enjoying privileges?Is he insane or an idiot?is everyone here just insane?

Mf ffss you have a whole ass dragon you could have been in Naath by now!

Done,no conflict, expect maybe if they put Aemond or something but neither he or Aegon are the rightful rulers here.

I wouldn't trust this guy with a bowl of cereal much less the kingdom?

This is supposed be the guy that dismissed Otto and put Aemond the psycho as his hand?

But this again has been put here so the green team could look innocent in comparison because look Aegon didn't want the throne and mean Rhaenyra started all this

Listen being complacent and not doing anything is just as bad as doing something.

There was plenty of time for this guy to dip but no because the actual character isn't like this.

Aemond is a straight up psycho.They legit gave him psycho killer he was bullied as a kid backstory.And that apparently justified everything else.The fuck?

This idiot that openly talks about treason on someone's funeral and openly admits that he would steals his brother's wife and that he deserves the crown because he is obviously so much better than his weak incompetent brother?like anyone who likes this character,I am not judging I am just saying you made a bold choice.he comes across as a parody of what the writers think they wrote Daemon as and Daemon is still better because grrm didn't give Aemond depth at all and you can just see who's the better writer

And then this fucker is arguing about rights and the rightful heir and calling people whores and bastards, don't these people realize how insane they come off across?you are defending this maniac killing someone who in his standards is collateral damage because he has better blood or because your mother and father are actually married?insanity.try and justify this to anyone who isn't a crazy blood supremacist

Like the show itself stated that Rhaenyra tried and failed which means uncomfortable lay back and think of England already with a gay person but wouldn't that also means that Leanor is probably just infertile considering bit obviously isn't Rhaenyra

But obviously Rhaenyra is at fault for everything and Daemon too probably

Not to mention Aemond and his siblings are all half breeds too so even by his own crazy blood supremacy logic this doesn't work but he is a man so of course he is better and they call him a feminist

Man was blind and deluded when he had both eyes now he's just insane too girl bye

Honestly for heaven's sake if this was a murder mystery Aemond is that one idiot who bragged about how much he hates the victim and that he learned this really cool slashing trick with his new cool sword.idiot.

Why isn't Aegon afraid of him or something?He bullied him with the others too or does Aemond just see people who aren't family as okay to belittle and trample? Isn't this something they usually accuse of Daemon too?Also Alicent is shown being okay with this too.You may cuff him about at home as much as you want but outside we are united.Or something.

Also not a fan of this whole dragons don't listen to their riders thing either,like bye.Iy just so happens that the one time the dragon goes crazy is the one horrible act that Aemond pulled on his own volition?

I can't even blame the dragon here,you chased the child with it what was Vhagar supposed to do here?

Alicent is a straight up delusional doormat too.Under the impression that if she married Rhaenyra's father they could still somehow be friends,wanting Rhaenyra to respect the rules and be as miserable as she is because she lacks a spine and the show wants me to believe that they are still somehow friends?

And the show frames Alicent as helping her and being sad as if she is in the right here too!!

At least Aegon and Alicent both parallel the absolute lack of spine here that's something. Ah but Otto forced them both and yet they accepted.

And the show tells me Otto is a good father and wants the best for the kingdom or something and Daemon is insane ahah sure Jan.

Alicent know what the fuck she was doing what exactly prevented her from asking Viserys how Rhaenyra is on their nightly talks?She could have went to Rhaenyra too!

It is a miracle that no one saw any of it and ruined someone's reputation and made a scandal.

Viserys annoys so much too.How does someone compare your brother,your heir,to like the worst person in your whole family tree and you just go yeah but he's still my blood so I am stuck with him.

Imagine your siblings being compared to like Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer and you not decking whoever just told you that shit right there.Especially as the king.

Meanwhile the one time Corlys says anything even slightly iffy about Viserys,Daemon immediately cuts that out.

Like seriously Viserys how does Otto know this much about your daughter and brother,he is spying this is a red flag what normal monarch just waves this off?

Sword prophecy is stupid too.

And Daemon murdering his wife just didn't happen full stop,there is a difference between adapting and cheery picking to suit your biased needs.

Tldr;the show is wildly inconsistent,thank God for the cast and the brand because otherwise?doom.

@shokos-lazy-life

Damn, this was much.

I like Matt Smith in every wig except for the ones starting from episode 8. the short one was my favorite, with the episode 3 one my second favorite.

Childhood Helaena's wig w/o braids was atrocious.

"while on subject of hair and wigs, Rhaenyra's when I read the book I kinda imagined Lucretia from the Borgias or something?The elaborate hairstyles and all?"

I imagined Rhaenyra's hair to mostly be loose before marriage and both loose, up, and in updos after marriage. Lucrezia from the Borgias is a great reference, loved her hairstyles. Her style in general, female aristocratic Italian Renaissance style in general really. Yes, Rhaenyra would be decked out like her.

"Meanwhile what is up with Rhaenys,didn't she have darker hair in the books?"

Yes, she inherited black/dark brown hair from her Baratheon mother, Jocelyn. The daughter of Alyssa Velaryon (Jaehaerys I's mother) and Rogar Baratheon. As she gets older, Rhaenys gets white strips in her dark hair.

"Kinda reminds me of that whole Cersei and her kids debacle when hair was used as distinctive trait because apparently all of Robert's bastards had dark hair and that therefore mean she is cheating and like?"

This is in canon as well, that all of Cersei's kids are blond, which later inspires Ned to look through the Baratheon family notes. He finds out that Baratheons, even when having bastards with Lannisters, have dark-haired scions. So in the case of the Baratheons, the probability that the kid of a Baratheon and any other house will turn out to have dark hair is very high. High enough that it's justifiably expected.

"But seriously when I saw that they cast mostly black actors as Velarayion's I was kinda confused? I don't particularly care either way but like they weren't in the books were they? Kinda felt to me like they were leaning really hard into that Rhaenyra's kids are bastards obviously because look they are all white as hell or something? Like I hope it's not something like that but that casting makes no sense and of course everyone was amazing in the miniscule roles they had but if this is supposed to be some sort of representation for anyone,they really dropped the ball?"

In the original lore, no the Velaryons had pale skin. I conclude so because Westerosi makes it a point to note that the person they are looking at is dark-skinned (Daella's, Saera, and Cersei's reactions to Summer Islanders), and all the descriptions we have of Corlys, any Velaryon, and Laena and Laenor never describe skin color. Europeans and white people and their fictional analouges tend to not mention skin color in anything written about people when their skin is as pale as theirs.

A problem with making it a point of "making it obvious that they are bastards" through skin color and race is that in the original lore, the boys' dark hair could have been argued in-world as coming from Laenor through Rhaenys and that Baratheon dark-hair gene. (I don't believe these boys came from Laenor because that guy was very unwilling to have sex with a woman and barely spent time with Rhaenyra before their sons were threatened).

There was some sort of tension with how one can detect adultery, adultery, and parentage in the character's environment. Once you realized this one element of the hair is enough to throw these blood purist aristocrats who wish to usurp Rhaenyra to take advantage of her socially-demonized sexual activities for their own political goals. Once again, they had no way of telling the parentage, and to bring up that the boys might have inherited Rhaenys' hair would throw off doubters not for "truth's" sake (at least about parentage), but to protect those boys and Rhaenyra from ridiculous blood purism, misogyny, and greed. It's meant to signal to the audience this game of thrones/royals, that such things as what parentage and fidelity mean is really just too slippery and unreal themselves, subject to human will and cleverness.

However, the show making the Velaryons black primarily bc the writers and producers saw these actors as useful to just show how those boys are bastards reinforces the blood purity. We're just superficially using race and colorism to reinforce how Rhaenyra slept with someone outside of marriage and that's all, folks. She's more open to condemnation instead of us looking critically at the game being played. Why is it so important to make it "obvious", what point are the writer and producers making here? Why should we care that it's "obvious"? If you read the original lore well and consider who these people are, if you have even basic critical thinking skills, it's clear that these aren't Laenor's kids.

That was never the issue. The issue was that Rhaenyra's castigated and humiliated for finding sexual autonomy, safety, and intimacy when she was forced to marry a gay man for her father and Corlys' political goals and had to have kids or risk losing her position as heir and future Queen--since no one wants either a barren woman nor a ruler who can't produce heirs.

This story is about how a woman was destroyed, not how she was worth destroying!

The other thing is that it is disparaging to the black actors and Velaryons. The actors are basically used primarily as tools to criticize and demean one white women's adultery. It doesn't take their acting chops into consideration, and their race, rather than being about representation in fantasy media, is the primary casting requirement simply to again highlight other white actors and their character's conflicts.

Again, this is if that was the producer's primary reason for casting black people to play just the Velaryons. But there is heavy misogynoir, espe with Laena Velaryon dying a gruesome death that realistically no one would want or seek unless they were severely mentally unstable. And yes, in canon, she dies surrounded by family, including Rhaenyra. She tried to go to Vhagar, but to fly one last time with her, not to get flamed out of existence. Laena's death was unnecessarily more brutal than it was. There is also a known link to the practice of self-immolation being gendered, as some cultures have widows burn themselves after their husbands die, which implies that she has no purpose without him alive.

Also, it's not fair we didn't get to see her claim/ride Vhagar independently and thus be a dragonrider apart from any shared scene with Daemon. finally, we don't see how she processed being arranged to marry what looked like a 50-yr old man at 12.

"They [the Velaryons] seemed to be kinda portray as greedy and bitter or just not important at all? Rhaenys is old and bitter and overall a moron in Aegon's coronation scene, doesn't seem to have any connection to any of her family despite growing up with them?Corlys just seems to be there to be disseagred by Viserys and Otto both for being too greedy. Laenor is just a witless gay love interest. Laena is crazy and delusional and completely unimportant and apparently content being Daemon's doormat despite having the biggest fuck off dragon there?"

Corlys in the book was very eager to have a Velaryon marry into the Targ house to have grandkids/great-grandkids who are Velaryon for the prestige and influence. That was just accurate. As for Otto and Viserys's reactions to Corlys, I saw those scenes of them dismissing Corlys as negative on their part, not Corlys. I was on Corlys' side. continuously pushing him off regarding other stuff, like the St But they could have shown the Velaryons in their environment, amongst themselves, and how they interact, their dynamic as a family apart from the Targs. Corlys didn't need to be this simple guy that maester's notes couldn't expound on due to time difference and distance. Also, lack of care or imagination on the part of the writers.

Laenor was never a love interest precisely because he was gay. And he already had a lover in Joffrey. He filled a role that both acknowledged in their agreement, and for his show! witlessness, yes it's annoying considering that in the canon he stayed with her more often once their son Luke and the tensions got higher b/t Alicent and Rhaenyra:

I already talked about Laena.

"Like the show itself stated that Rhaenyra tried and failed which means uncomfortable lay back and think of England already with a gay person but wouldn't that also means that Leanor is probably just infertile considering bit obviously isn't Rhaenyra"

I don't think Laenor was infertile so much as he really couldn't bring himself to stay and commit to the sex repeatedly to inseminate Rhaenyra. I imagine they tried twice or three times and that's all Laenor could handle. And it's actually not a predictable or controlled thing, insemination. Sometimes it takes 5 tries for conception, sometimes once.

"And of course the one scene that involves the Velarayion's is when Daemon the crazy white guy inbred supremacist went and killed the innocent completely in the right random brother of Corlys that spoke the truth about Rhaenyra and her kids despite the fact that every normal ruler would have them killed too,all so the mainstream audience can yell afoul about racism and white privilege and crazy Targaryens and Daemon the psycho? They literally recreated Ned's execution here but with racial implication,with Daemon being Joffrey and the executioner here and this is somehow respectful and we'll handled to anyone?"

Never heard of this thought. I think the audience is just upset that a black man got got by a white man, but considering how the Velaryons are not black in canon and this is about a class dispute rather than a racial one, I think people should throw this idea out. Daemon kills Vaemond in the book, and by Rhaenyra's express order, too. It wasn't a race thing.

"This idiot [Aemond] that openly talks about treason on someone's funeral and openly admits that he would steals his brother's wife and that he deserves the crown because he is obviously so much better than his weak incompetent brother?like anyone who likes this character,I am not judging I am just saying you made a bold choice.he comes across as a parody of what the writers think they wrote Daemon as and Daemon is still better because grrm didn't give Aemond depth at all and you can just see who's the better writer"

Aemond wasn't saying he would "steal" Aegon's soon-to-be sister-wife, quite the opposite. He meant that if Alicent allowed it and if it was useful for their Ussurp-Rhaenyra cause (doing his "duty"), then he's gladly legally married Helaena. To castigate Aegon for not being willing. Aemond is very unserious, though, for putting it out there that he'd love to be the king over Aegon and not keeping that shit to himself, both in book or show.

"Also not a fan of this whole dragons don't listen to their riders thing either,like bye.Iy just so happens that the one time the dragon goes crazy is the one horrible act that Aemond pulled on his own volition? I can't even blame the dragon here,you chased the child with it what was Vhagar supposed to do here?"

Yep.

"Viserys annoys so much too. How does someone compare your brother,your heir,to like the worst person in your whole family tree and you just go yeah but he's still my blood so I am stuck with him. Imagine your siblings being compared to like Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer and you not decking whoever just told you that shit right there. Especially as the king. Meanwhile the one time Corlys says anything even slightly iffy about Viserys,Daemon immediately cuts that out. Like seriously Viserys how does Otto know this much about your daughter and brother, he is spying this is a red flag what normal monarch just waves this off?"

This made me laugh. Yes, there is a discrepancy, huh, bt how Viserys regards his brother and vice versa?

Viserys seems to want to over-placate and make the more powerful/least under his control (or so he thinks) person be willing to do his bidding after the example of the conciliatory Jaehaerys I. Problem is that Viserys' position and circumstances are different enough from Jaehaerys' that he needed to apply his might more.

#asoiaf asks to me #hotd comment #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd critical #hotd writers #westerosi bastards #the velaryons #hotd bts

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notapaladin · 11 months

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Does literally every swtor player post lineups of their legacy? Yes. Is this going to stop me from jumping on the bandwagon? Hell no.

Jedi Knight (Disaster Lesbian Space Nun) Nandaraza (Nanda Kylraza, telekinetics sage) should probably have been a Consular, but she just doesn't have the patience. Or the drive. No, instead she uses her telekinesis and mind-control powers to hurl rocks at people, and probably would have been a padawan forever if she hadn't passed her trials in spectacular fashion by hauling an entire Sith Lord in to face the Temple's justice. The good news: This got her knighted. The bad news: This also got the Sith Lord assigned as her padawan. Somehow, they both survived to defeat the Emperor, and then they got frozen in carbonite and had to do it again. Twice. After surviving all that, she's dating Kira. She likes Huttball, gambling, helping people, and amateur archaeology.

Sith Warrior (Autistic Lady Knight In Shining Armor/Only Sane Bitch In The Empire) Yaellia (Yaellia Quinn, carnage marauder) is the scion of House Ivros, a proud and ancient Sith line...which was founded by a slave, a bastard daughter of the House's patriarch only tenuously recognized by her father. Understandably, this has given Yaellia herself an extremely dim view of slavery and a rock-solid sense of honor, mercy, and noblesse oblige that comes as a complete shock to...well, most people. Including (especially) Malavai Quinn, even now that they're married with children. After being frozen in carbonite for five years and discovering the Empire was still just as awful, she joined the Republic on Iokath and has been a saboteur ever since. She loves spending time with her family, but she also gardens, cooks, podraces, and explores the secrets of ancient Force ruins with her bestie Talos.

Jedi Consular (Functionally A Priest, But Not A Very Good One) Evrard Briardionne (madness sorcerer) is what happens when a Chiss is exiled from her homeworld for using the Force, gets to Dromund Kaas, marries a nice local boy, has a son she teaches Chiss meditation techniques...and then dies along with her husband, leaving young Evrard a fresh Korriban Academy graduate who joined the Inquisitors to pay the bills while hiding he was about as Dark as an overcast day. He proceeded to half-ass his job as much as humanly (Chissly?) possible before deserting for the Jedi, where he now puts his mental manipulation and impressive connection to the Light to use as a healer. He is much, much more devoted to this than he ever was to the Sith. Shame about all that Force Lightning, though. And the fact that his boyfriend's a Darth (Nanda's padawan; the Jedi thing uh...did not take). When he's not working, he likes drinking, gardening, and curling up with a good datapad. He is supposed to have white hair, but alas.

Sith Inquisitor (Manic Pixie Dream Girl With A Knife And Trauma) Ritanelle Sunveil (lightning sorcerer) is not a Sith and might electrocute you for calling her one, but is nonetheless Sith-trained; born a slave on an Imperial colony, she worked in Korriban's mines for some years before her Force sensitivity expressed itself. Now her chains are broken, and she's determined to make it her former masters' problem. Her boyfriend being an Imperial agent is the only thing keeping her on that faction. During the KOTFE timeskip, she makes a name for herself freeing slaves and slaughtering Hutts; joining the Alliance was a fun break from that which also helps further her absolute hodgepodge of Force training. In her free time, she's a big holovid junkie, amateur historian, and highly experimental chef.

Smuggler (Alien Han Solo But Angry) Jaiyu Kylraza (sharpshooter gunslinger) is a simple man. He loves credits, freedom, and not being beholden to anyone. He hates the Empire and all that it stands for. Accordingly, much of his fuel is burned shuttling refugees and supplying resistance groups. He's a distant relative of Nanda, which--following her first defeat of the Emperor and her resulting fame--has become something he also hates. Fame is bad for his less...legal businesses, mostly various forms of spice. He spends a lot of his off time drinking, carousing, and gambling. His lekku are definitely at least three times as long as the sad ingame stubs.

Bounty Hunter (Good, Bad, I'm In It For The Money) Rhiavi Spens (marksmanship sniper) was born on an absolute no-name one-speeder planet somewhere on the edge of Wild Space, and became a bounty hunter pretty much entirely for credits. And, alright, to get away from her seven older, more overbearing sisters. She'll work for almost anyone if the price is right, but there are lines she refuses to cross--a position which has oddly endeared her to an SIS agent who ought to be her next target. Currently, Yaellia Quinn's signing her paycheck. Her hobbies include droid repair, Corellian crystal tree bonsai, and sharpshooting.

Trooper (Mirialan Captain America) Corthak "Corrie" Bacard (gunnery commando) is a good man. This makes him a less-than-perfect soldier, particularly given how badly he wants to toss General Garza off a high-rise. Still, he serves the Republic with the utmost loyalty and leads Havoc Squad with a firm and caring hand. (He hasn't even thrown Tanno Vik out of the airlock yet.) He's happily married to Elara Dorne, and has four children with her. He likes barbecue and cheesy romance novels.

Imperial Agent (Sleazebag With A Heart Of Gold-Ish) Erasmus Westmoore (lethality operative) grew up on Balmorra. Then the Republic abandoned it, and he--holding a considerable grudge--signed up for ImpInt. It didn't take too long for him to realize what sort of people he'd agreed to work for, but he didn't care too much as long as they didn't find out about his under-the-table deals. It wasn't until learning that they were using chemical conditioning on their own people--including his partner--that he was motivated to quit. When he's not working (an act he does as little as possible) he parties and watches daytime soap opera holovids.

Bonus!

Smuggler Ras Westmoore is literally just my IA; he retired after the events of the class story, and now runs guns, drugs, spice and stims across the galaxy. He'll hook up with basically any species that looks like they're down for a fun time.

Sith Warrior (Socially Awkward Murder Puppy) Akhavesh (Akhavesh Qoyuwsar, rage juggernaut) is the Empire's Wrath. Having initially been granted the position seemingly out of nowhere following the defection of his predecessor, his swift, firm enforcing of his Emperor's will kept getting derailed by meeting Vette, Yaellia's "sister" and, Akhavesh believes firmly, the one bright spot in the galaxy. Nobody's surprised when they're married by the time KOTFE hits, except maybe Akhavesh who still can't figure out how he stopped stammering long enough to ask. Being flash-frozen for five years has given him more confidence, but it hasn't lessened his disdain for the Republic. Fortunately, he'd rather be playing with his pet tuk'ata than slaughtering entire city blocks. He's too chill for that.

#swtor #sith #jedi #togruta #mirialan #my ocs #kav and yael basically split the wrath storyline in that yael has the SW's crew but she's basically just a random Sith #kav is the actual Wrath with a huge ship/crew/etc

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 2 years

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Michael After Midnight: Dune

I’m a big fan of David Lynch and his bizarre, trippy films with their surreal atmospheres, so right out the gate I’d be predisposed to like his adaptation of Frank Herbert’s classic sci-fi novel. I’ve never read it, sure, but I’m familiar with Lynch’s work, I’m familiar with the batshit behind-the-scenes story of this film’s creation, and most importantly I love giant sand worms, and frankly that might be though for this movie. I get the distinct sense that even if I read the book, it would barely help me parse the madness unfolding onscreen.

Most of the madness is courtesy of the Baron and his goons. The Baron is a floating fat man (and is even described as such) and his goons inexplicably include Sting, of The Police fame. At one point, Sting steps out from behind fifty fog machines wearing nothing but winged panties, and the Baron wastes no time making lustful comments about the man. This is the level of sanity the movie operates on all the time, but especially in the scenes involving the Baron.

From what I gather, the conflict in the film is a much more black and white affair than the novels, which is readily apparent by how cartoonish the Baron is. Again, he is a floating fat man and he’s covered in pus-filled sores, he bloodily murders a slave boy in a disturbing fashion, he forces an enemy to milk his cat for an antidote… and don’t even get me started on his over-the-top death scene. Thankfully, I think his cartoonish antics add a bit of fun to the film, although I’d be remiss in not mentioning how many see him as a homophobic stereotype thanks to his homoeroticism, sissy antics, and his disgusting sore-covered body bringing to mind AIDS during a time when that was ravaging the queer community. While I don’t think it’s a reach to claim that Baron is stereotypical in some regards (especially when taking into account Herbert’s own feelings on gay people), I honestly don’t think I can call Dune the most homophobic movie ever based solely on the Baron as some have. Even if it’s all intentional, he’s kind of par for the course for a queer-coded villain from the 80s and 90s. I don’t see him as any worse than Governor Ratcliffe; he’s funny enough that he’s not completely offensive, but he’s not hot enough where you can give him the Ol’ “Draco in Leather Pants” treatment (this is what Sting is for, though it’s more Leather Panties in that case).

Enough about the Baron; what about the rest of the cast? This is honestly where the film really shines, because even with the absolute insanity going on around them every single actor here is putting their whole pussy into their roles. Look no further than Patrick Stewart, a man incapable of half-assing a role even when it’s a literal shit emoji, who delivers every one of his lines with dignity and gravitas as if he were performing Hamlet. And there’s a reason Kyle MacLachlan went on to have a respectable career after this. Everyone is taking their roles seriously here, which adds a certain charm when absolutely ridiculous lines are uttered with total earnestness.

And if there’s anything here that there’s no fault in, it’s the effects, costumes, and set designs. Some of the stuff is dated such as the blocky early CGI used for the battle armor, but that has a certain charm to it; almost everything else is 80s sci-fi perfection, with special mention going to the utterly alien Guild Navigator and the completely awesome sandworms. Throw on top of that an epic soundtrack by Toto of all bands (Yes, the same Toto that did “Africa”) and this is a beautiful film to look at and to listen to.

Still, it’s not surprising why this film is relegated to being a cult classic. It’s extremely inexplicable and hard to comprehend, even for a Lynch film, and a big sci-fi film like this being as inaccessible as it is will do it no favors. And that’s all on top of a troubled production that is readily evident in the finished product and just how bizarre it is. The story is lacking polish and feels like it was watered down from something far grander, even never having read the books. I can also see why Lynch was ultimately disappointed with the movie; even with it being as weird as it is, it doesn’t really feel like a David Lynch film.

Still, this isn’t a bad film by any means, and there is plenty to love here even if it’s kind of messy. Great acting, great effects, great music… Dune is basically a must-watch if you like 80s science fiction. Everyone else I would recommend to go into it with an open mind. It’s sure to disappoint a hefty chunk of audiences, but hey, such is the fate of a cult film.

Now how does it stack up to the new movie? That’s a review for another day…

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tranquil-turbulence · 2 years

Text

SasuSaku Month ‘22 Day 20

Day 19 | Day 21

Day 20 Prompt: Steal

Shippuden (Canon Divergence)

Sasuke stopped in his tracks, towel wrapped loosely around his waist for modesty as he stared at Team Hawk's latest capture - apparently having bathed herself, considering the towel and folded clothing on the ground next to her.

Said teenage girl stared defiantly back, clutching white fabric around her shoulders. His white fabric.

"Sakura," he began flatly, "what are you doing with my shirt."

"Well it's nice to know you care so much about personal property now," she scoffed, folding the clothing tighter around herself. "Since you oh-so-graciously kidnapped me from my campsite and didn't bother to bring my pack too, I don't have any spare clothes."

The teenager pinched the bridge of his nose irritably, giving a quiet sigh. "Why didn't you ask Karin?"

"Because I'm pretty sure she'll bite my head off for even daring to ask." Sakura huffed and folded her arms across her chest. "And Juugo is way bigger than both of us, and Suigetsu..."

She trailed off with a grimace.

Honestly, he didn't blame her. That man shared more similarities with Naruto than he'd ever care for, and not always in the best of ways.

"So that leaves you," she finished. "And geez, speaking of clothing, why on earth do you have something this baggy? I'm not even that much smaller than you and this feels like a tent!"

She lifted her arm to demonstrate. The fabric of the shirt draped much looser on her body than his, and although it was zipped up all the way the high collar fell to the side, exposing some of her collarbone. The length of the shirt reached the end of her torso and barely covered her thighs (”thankfully,” he thought, “she's wearing shorts”).

He may have been one of the most dangerous shinobi of his generation, but when it came to his old team (and more importantly, his latent deep care for Sakura), he often found his self-control slipping.

"Orochimaru has no fashion sense," she sighed, dropping her arm back down. "Not if he thinks this is good training gear. And we've both seen Naruto in bright orange-on-orange."

When she wore his shirt like this, he found it much harder to ignore just how much she'd grown over the course of the past three years. Hell, even Naruto had looked more rugged the last time they'd met, but she had blossomed into a curvy, beautiful young woman. He'd seen it when he accidentally slashed through her shirt while trying to subdue her the day before, and he was seeing it now as he fought hard to keep his eyes from wandering to where the ends of the shirt dangled at her thighs.

He really didn't know what to think about that. It was hard enough keeping his face from heating up when she rose both arms, the shirt rising up to show a scant few inches of her toned abdomen. “Careful, Sasuke, or she might punch you for even thinking about it.”

"We're lucky that Suigetsu is likely still asleep," he continued to muse, glancing back towards camp. "If he dared make a move on her..."

"Wait, my bag... my tampons!" She suddenly remembered, and her glare turned on him again. "I'm almost due to start this week, I forgot! If I have to ruin my only pair of shorts I'm kicking your ass and leaving by myself. With your shirt."

Fuck. In his haste, he'd honestly forgotten that she had grown up too and had not remained just a scrawny preteen girl. He'd been around Karin enough to know that PMS is not something he wanted to deal with, least of all from his old teammate. Considering her monster strength, she may very well put a hole through a mountain. Or his crotch.

He took a deep breath in through his nose. Held it. Let it go.

"We'll be stopping in to a village this afternoon," he replied instead, turning away. "I will supervise you as you buy essential items."

She blinked at him, sinking down to her knees on the soft grass. "So... so what now?"

"Keep the shirt until you can get a replacement." He was already walking away, face beginning to burn. “It's not like I don't have a spare.”

It was going to take a lot of meditating to shove down his emotions again (and the mental image of Sakura draped in his clothes). Better to start while he still had some peace and quiet around camp.

#sasusaku month 2022 #sasusaku #naruto shippuden #canon divergence

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fortheloveofwonderland · 3 years

Text

A Memory Locked In The Heart - Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

A/N - Requested by the lovely @overduelibrarybooks I hope this was the kind of thing you were looking for!

Find my masterlist here.

My taglists are open and requests are open.

Requested: Yes l No

Request: "could u ever write a spencer reid x reader where reader def works for the cia but more as a translator who’s kinda forced into doing agenty things in order to gather intel and on a mandated break she finds out the UNSUB before the team does so she uses herself as bait, and shoots the guy all very badass fashion n then gets interrogated bc ms girl just shot him coldblood and halfway thru she recognizes spencer bc her mother and his mom lived in the same care facility??? idk sorry my mom has paranoid too so it just hits different but u don’t have to write this if u don’t want to i love ur writing <3"

CW: disclaimer: I know next to nothing about the CIA and what they investigate so please go easy on me here. This is all made up so hopefully it makes some kind of sense. Mentions of violence and sex work, schizophrenia, Alzheimer’s, some swears. Mentions of drug use and overdose. Spanish used towards the end is from Google Translate so I apologise if it isn’t completely accurate. Italics indicate flashbacks.

Plot: Eighteen years ago you met a boy named Spencer Reid whilst visiting your mother at Bennington Sanitorium. This time you are meeting under entirely different circumstances; across the table of an interrogation room.

WC: 5.3K

—————————————————————

How did I end up here?

That was a question you kept asking yourself as you rolled into your third hour of sitting in that cold, dimly lit interrogation room at the FBI headquarters in Quantico, Virginia.

Well you supposed you’d have to go back to the beginning to truly work that out.

The CIA and FBI joint task force for a country wide sex trafficking ring they believed to be operating out of DC.

When your team at the CIA had started investigating it was estimated that the ring had close to a hundred women who had been abducted and forced into the sex industry.

A lot of women were believed to have been taken trying to cross the border. Your job as a translator had involved spending a lot of time in Mexico, helping interview witnesses and family members who didn’t speak English.

The FBI involvement had come when women believed to have been part of the trafficking ring started turning up dead.

At last count they were up to twenty bodies. The Behavioural Analyst Unit had given their profile of the man they believed to be running the show.

White male in his mid to late forties. Bilingual. Possibly born in Mexico or an area surrounding the border but grew up in DC, they assumed based on his knowledge of the area. He’s attractive, charming and has a good level of education, he’d need to be able to charm the women into trusting him. He doesn’t have a full time job because he wouldn’t have time for one. All his time and focus goes on his girls. He was tech savvy, incredibly so, he’d have to be, to be able to set up the network on the dark web which enabled his customers to pay for his services.

It hadn’t been going well. Bodies kept dropping and the task force was no closer to catching the person responsible.

This went on for six months. Everyone was exhausted. You kept hitting brick wall after brick wall. It was demoralising.

Your boss had called for mandated time off. You’d all argued but she had been absolutely adamant. You’d all been working yourselves to the bone and she didn’t want you burnt out entirely.

You’d argued but your words had fallen on deaf ears.

“Can I get you a glass of water or something?”

The voice startled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see the lanky, messy haired agent who called himself Doctor Reid, sticking his head through the door.

“Is coffee an option?”

He smiled brightly at you, a smile you swear you’ve seen before.

“Coffee is always an option.” He told you. “How do you take it?”

“Strong and black. Please.”

“I’ll be right back.”

With that the door closed leaving you to your thoughts once more.

There was something so familiar about the Doctor. His dark yet sparkling eyes, his awkward smile and the way he dressed. You couldn’t place it. But there was definitely something about him that stirred some memory buried deep in your brain. You just weren’t sure what it was.

He returned a few minutes later, bringing your coffee into the room and placing it on the table in front of you.

“Hopefully you won’t be stuck here too much longer. It’s just standard procedure.” he spoke sweetly, his voice stirring the hidden memory.

“Yeah I know. I get it.” you sighed as you spoke, wrapping your hands around the coffee. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.” he smiled before he started backing out of the room. You wished you could ask him to stay because you felt so much more at ease with him around. But you knew you couldn’t.

He turned to you in the doorway.

“You look cold in that.” He smiled a little sadly at you.

You’d forgotten about your outfit choice. No self respecting CIA agent dressed like you were right now.

“I guess I am a little.” You shrugged.

Spencer instantly shrugged his blazer off of his shoulders and laid it in front of you on the table.

“Thank you Doctor Reid.” you spoke again before he disappeared out the door.

“Goodbye Agent Y/L/N.”

The door closed, his voice reverberating in your ears, dragging you into a long forgotten memory.

As you slipped his jacket on, your eyes fluttered closed, his scent wafting up your nose.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your eyes shot back open, a frown on your face.

“Spencer?” you muttered under your breath. “Spencer Reid.”

Where had you pulled that name from? And why did it feel oddly connected to Vegas?

You tried to push the thought away, you already had enough on your mind. There were much more pressing things to deal with than a vague memory from your hometown an undetermined amount of time ago.

***

You’d been instructed to switch off. Your time off should be used to recoup, relax and not to think about the case.

Easier said than done you thought.

Before you’d left the office on your mandated leave you’d taken photocopies of some files and slipped them into your bag. You knew you’d be in trouble if you were caught but you couldn’t help yourself. You wouldn’t be able to relax with this case still open.

As far as you were aware the BAU was still working on it but it provided you little comfort. In your time with the CIA you’d never gotten to be involved so heavily in a case. Your skills were mostly utilised in interview capacities and then you were sidelined.

You’d never had the privilege to work on a joint task force or investigate a crime so brutal.

You felt personally invested in this case. You thought if you could just find that one missing puzzle piece you could crack this case wide open.

And then you’d found it. The golden ticket. The smoking gun. The missing piece.

It had taken five days of your leave and copious amounts of coffee but you’d connected the dots no one else had.

You knew how to draw the unsub out. And you were going to do it tonight.

***

“Let’s start again from the beginning shall we?” Agent Rossi linked his fingers together on top of the table as he looked across at you, still slowly sipping your coffee.

“Oh goody.” You sighed. “Could Agent Jareau not fill you in what I’ve already told her?”

“Humour me.” The old man shrugged.

You didn’t have any ill will against him. Far from it. You were actually a big fan of David Rossi. But you were sick and tired of being treated like a criminal.

“Tell me how you managed to work out how to find him.”

You took another long sip of the coffee.

“All the pieces were there, they just hadn’t been put into place.”

“And how did you piece them together?”

“There was a pattern to where the women had been last seen. It was a guess more than anything. A lucky guess.”

“And the pattern was?”

You sighed in frustration.

“As I told agent Jareau,” you sipped your coffee. “The bars they were last seen in all had ties to Mexico. I’m not a native to DC but I know the area like the back of my hand. They were all either Mexican owned, had a Mexican name or were previously establishments such as Mexican restaurants. I made an educated guess that he frequented places such as these looking for his targets. I just got lucky I picked the right one.”

***

You felt incredibly exposed, but you supposed that was the point.

If you were going to get this guy's attention, you had to do this right.

It was a long shot. Just because Western’s bar was known for its famous tacos did not mean it would be the place he chose to pick up girls.

You just had to hope.

You wore a skimpy skirt that barely covered your ass, knee high boots and a crop top that accentuated your assets.

Your firearm was hidden in your left boot.

Your outfit garnered a lot of looks as you headed through Westerns towards the bar.

You felt men’s eyes on you from every angle, making you feel extremely self conscious. But you needed to keep your cool, exude confidence.

If your guy was here he needed to see you shine.

You ordered a soda to keep your head clear and sat at a table over the far side of the bar. From there you had a good view of the entrance and most of the room. And more importantly, the room had a view of you.

Three hours you sat there nursing your soda. It was a huge stab in the dark, you weren’t really surprised.

You finished your drink and headed out onto the cool DC street.

You made it five steps before you felt a presence behind you.

Just as you were about to turn, something covered your mouth.

You struggled against a pair of strong arms.

A smell wafted up your nose seconds before you lost consciousness.

Chloroform.

***

“Why didn’t you tell your unit chief before you went in?”

“Because I thought it was a long shot.” And because she would have been furious I was working the case.

“So you chose to use yourself as bait?”

“Yes.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Do you know how dangerous that could have been?” Rossi raised an eyebrow at you.

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Yes agent Rossi, I’m well aware. But I had a lead and I wasn’t going to ignore it.” You pulled Doctor Reid’s jacket tighter around your scantily clad body.

You caught his scent again. Coffee. Old books. A hint of peppermint.

Another long shut off memory wormed it’s way to the surface.

“So are you here visiting someone?”

“Yeah.” You smiled sadly. “My mom.”

“Oh.” He returned your sad smile. “Me too.”

“Agent Y/L/N?”

You were brought back by Rossi’s concerned voice.

“Hmm?”

“I said, what happened next? You were chloroformed and then what?”

You shook your head, your mind clouded.

“Can we take a break? I could really use some air.”

Rossi sighed with a small nod.

He stood from his chair and motioned you to follow him.

You got some odd looks from his fellow agents as he led you to the elevators. They all recognised what you were wearing as Spencer’s jacket.

You followed Rossi into the elevator and he pressed the button for the ground floor.

“Agent Rossi, can I ask you a strange question?” You asked as the doors closed.

He gave you a curious look.

“I suppose.”

“Doctor Reid. As in Spencer Reid?”

“The one and only.” Rossi frowned unsure what you were getting at.

“Where is he from?”

Rossi’s frown deepened, not sure he should tell you such things about his team. But you were an agent and you didn’t pose a threat to the team.

“Vegas I believe.”

Vegas. Of course.

“Ok.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know.” You chewed your lip. “I think I might have known him.”

“Oh?”

You wished you hadn’t opened your mouth. This was not the time or place.

“I’m probably wrong. Just forget I said anything.”

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. As you stepped out you pulled Spencer’s collar to your nose and sniffed it.

No you weren’t wrong.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Hi again.” You smiled at the lanky man, Spencer you’d met a few days ago. “How’s your mom?”

“Still angry at me.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stubbed the toe of his shoe on the floor.

“She came in recently?”

“Yeah a few months ago. I turned eighteen and I was able to have her put into care.” He blanched, clearly feeling guilty for his decision.

“Do you want to grab a coffee?”

“Uhm sure.” He shrugged.

He followed you through to the day room. It was late and there were only a few patients inside and a few nurses milling around.

You got two cups of coffee from the machine and the two of you sat at a table together.

“Do you mind me asking what’s wrong with your mom?” You dared as you slid him the drink.

He sighed heavily, gnawing on his bottom lip as though his life depended on it.

“She’s a paranoid schizophrenic.” He spoke clinically, words he’d had to say too many times in his life. It was as though he’d distanced himself from it. Like he was giving a patient a diagnosis rather than talking about his own mother.

“Mine too.” You gave him a wry smile. You had something in common, just not something you would like to have in common.

“How long has your mom been here?”

“Three years. She got really bad and my dad couldn’t take care of her anymore. She’s been doing much better since she moved in here.”

“That’s good.” Spencer nodded. “I hope my mom realises I did this for her. For her well being. At the moment she’s just so...angry.”

You reached across the table and placed your hand on top of his. He seemed a little startled by the physical touch but you didn’t move your hand.

“This is the best place for her. I assume from what you said earlier your dad isn’t in the picture?”

He used his free hand to sip his coffee with a sad shake of his head.

“He left when I was ten. He couldn’t handle mom's illness.”

You gave his hand a small squeeze.

“I can’t imagine what it was like for you to have to look after her by yourself. It was hard enough with my dad there. Really makes you grow up fast.”

“It really does.” He agreed. “I’m not sure I ever got to be a kid.”

“I know that feeling.”

After that you spent hours chatting about anything and everything until way into the night. It wasn’t until a nurse came and asked you politely to leave that you realised how late it was.

“I’ll probably see you around?” You spoke as you stepped outside together.

“Maybe. In a few weeks I’m heading out of state. I’m working on a PhD.” He didn’t want to tell you it was actually his second PhD.

“Oh. Ok.” You tried to hide the disappointment from your voice.

Despite the circumstances you’d enjoyed talking to someone like minded, someone who understood. You didn’t have anyone else your own age you could talk to about this kind of thing.

“Maybe we could exchange numbers?” You blushed a little.

“I don’t have a cellphone.” He shrugged.

“Oh.”

“It’s not an excuse.” He sensed you didn’t believe him. “I’m not so into technology. I don’t even have email.”

Normally you would have thought it was just a bad excuse to get out of seeing you again but the look on Spencer’s face told you he was being genuine.

“Ok.” You gave him a shy smile. “Well maybe I’ll see you again before you leave.”

“I hope so.” His eyes sparkled as he looked at you on the dark street.

There was an air between you, some kind of thick tension but you didn’t know what it meant.

“If I don’t see you again,” you spoke trying to ignore whatever it was. “It was really good to meet you and I hope your mom gets used to the facility.”

“You too.” He smiled so genuinely at you, it made your heart skip a beat.

And then you went your separate ways.

***

“Ok, so what happened next?” Rossi wasted no time once you were back in the interrogation room.

“Well I blacked out after I was chloroformed so excuse me if I don’t remember.” You gave him a sarcastic smile.

“What’s the next thing you do remember?” He reworded his question.

“I woke up in a large basement. It was gritty and dingy. And there were other women there too.”

“How many?”

“At least twenty.” You sighed letting your mind travel back to the basement you never wanted to go back to. Not even in your mind.

***

You woke with a start, your head pounding. You gasped for air as though you’d been drowning.

You blinked your eyes trying to adjust to the dark room you found yourself in.

It was cold and damp and you could hear a pipe dripping in the distance.

You tried to roll over but your arm wouldn’t budge. You were met by a loud clanking sound when you tried.

You tugged your arm, hearing the same sound and being met with a sharp pain in your wrist.

“Good luck.” A woman’s voice scoffed. “They don’t come loose.”

You blinked a few more times, looking over to your left arm. There was a heavy metal cuff right around your wrist that was attached to a metal bed frame.

That’s when you realised you were laying on a small cot on top of a ratty, itchy blanket. You were still dressed, thank god.

You suddenly remembered your firearm concealed in your boot. You patted your left calf and sure enough you felt the hard weapon still inside.

That was something at least.

Oversight on their part.

You remembered the voice you’d heard before and turned as much as you could with your arm cuffed to take in the rest of the room.

There were at least forty other cots close together lining the walls, with at least half of them containing the body of other women.

The voice you’d heard belonged to a woman in the cot next to you. She gave you a smile but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Her eyes were broken.

“Hi,” you croaked. “I’m Y/N.”

“Delilah.” Her accent was Spanish. You were sure Delilah wasn’t her real name either.

“How long have you been here?”

She sighed, playing with a strand of curly black hair.

“What month is it?”

“September.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Not that long then. I’ve been here since July.” She looked confused as though that couldn’t be long enough.

“Delilah?” You narrowed your eyes on her. “What year do you think it is?”

“2018…” she saw your face drop and knew instantly it was no longer 2018.

“Oh gosh.” You felt for her, tears welling in your eyes. “It’s 2020.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Wow.”

“It’s ok.” You lowered your voice. “I’m CIA. I’m going to get us out of here. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

***

“Delilah.” Rossi opened the file in front of him. “Was that Roberta Suez?”

He pulled out a photograph and slid it across the table. You averted your gaze.

“Yes and please I don’t need to see it, I was there.”

“How did she end up in hospital fighting for her life?”

“You know how.” You huffed. “Look I’m starting to get fed up with this now.” You folded your arms. “Carlos Ramirez was a sick son of a bitch. If I hadn’t done what I did he would have killed all those women. I don’t regret what I did.”

“How did she end up in hospital?” He repeated.

“Good lord.” You grumbled. “I’ll talk but I don’t want to talk to you.”

Rossi narrowed his eyes on you.

“No? But I’m so compassionate.” He spoke sarcastically.

“I won’t say another word unless it’s to Reid.” You looked up to the two way mirror. You didn’t know why but you had a feeling he was there.

Sure enough it was barely twenty seconds before the door opened and Doctor Reid himself stepped in the room.

“I got this Rossi.” Spencer told the older man who stood up with a shrug.

Rossi left the room while Spencer took the seat he’d been occupying.

Did he remember you? It had been close to twenty years since you’d last seen each other. Had it not been for the olfactory memory that struck you when you put on his jacket you might never have remembered him.

But you knew the rest of his team was behind the two way glass, or at least some of them were so it didn’t seem an appropriate time to ask such things.

“So agent Y/L/N,” he smiled softly at you. “Can you please tell me how Delilah ended up in hospital?”

“You already know the answer to that Doctor but since you asked so nicely,” you leant your elbows on the table, entwined your fingers and rested your chin the little bridge you’d created. “She had a drug overdose. But you and I both know it wasn’t her who administered the drugs.”

“And who did?”

“I did.”

Your words hung in the air between you and Spencer. He knew the answer, the whole team did. You’d already told Agent Jareau everything.

This was a huge waste of time.

“I administered the drugs because he told me if I didn’t he would kill me. I needed to stay alive so I could save those women.”

“Who said he would kill you?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“It wasn’t Ramirez?”

“No.” You shook your head. “If it was Ramirez I would have shot him. But it must have been one of his right hand men.”

“How would you know that? You’d never met Ramirez correct?” Spencer had a soft tone to his voice which made his line of questioning easier than Agent Jareau’s.

“I’m not a profiler but I’ve been to enough seminars over the years. He didn’t fit the bill. He was young, scatty, he didn’t strike as much fear into the other women as I thought the boss would. I made an educated guess and I was right. If I’d shot at him I would have blown my chance at getting Ramirez.”

***

“Shit shit shit!” You pulled yourself as close to Delilah’s cot as possible with your restraint. “Delilah, keep breathing, try to breath. Fuck I am sorry.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks, the empty needle you’d been made to inject in her vein between your cots on the floor.

He’d held a gun to your head and said he would shoot you if you didn’t do it. You didn’t think he was bluffing.

“It happens a lot.” A woman opposite spoke up. “You’ll soon find out. If she wakes up she’ll have the pleasure of returning the favour.” She gave you an almost manic grin.

If she wakes up. It was the if you were having the issue with.

“Who’s in charge around here?”

She shrugged.

“Don’t know his name. Big guy. Tattoos. Mustache. You can’t miss him.”

“Does he come down here often?”

Again she shrugged.

“Being down here you have a way of losing track of time.” She clicked her tongue. “But he’ll be here for you later. He has to test his new girls.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Test?” You swallowed, pretty sure you knew what she meant.

“He can’t very well expect you to make him money if he doesn’t know how good you are.”

Oh god.

Your heartbeat raced. No, it was not going to come to that. You were a CIA agent and you were armed.

It was not going to come to that.

***

Spencer’s face paled a little at your words. You hadn’t told Agent Jareau that part.

“He was going to...he didn’t…”

“No.” You cut him off, pushing the memory back down. “I had a gun, remember.”

You offered him a wry smile.

“So you know what comes next.”

“I’d like you to tell me.”

The way he said it was more like he was a therapist than an FBI agent. As though he wanted you to tell him so you could get it off your chest, unburden yourself, rather than for interrogation purposes.

“Ok.” You nodded. “He came for me later that night. And that’s when it happened.”

***

“Ahh look at you.”

A deep, Spanish voice woke you.

Your eyes fluttered open and landed on a strong, tattooed man with a mustache standing over your cot.

This must be him.

“Tan hermosa.”

So beautiful.

You tried not to shudder.

You sat up wiggling your legs in your boots to make sure you could still feel your firearm. You could.

“Su nombre es Rosa.”

Your name is Rosa.

Guess again.

“Su nombre es Y/N.”

“Tú hablas español?”

You speak Spanish?

“Si.”

“Eres perfecta.” He grinned menacingly. “My clients will love you.”

He reached in his pocket and fished out a key chain. He reached over you and unlocked your cuff.

You rolled your wrist to try and get your blood circulating again.

“On your feet.”

You complied and stood up. Your legs were shaky.

He grasped your wrist, hard enough so you couldn’t wriggle free but not hard enough to leave a mark. He started dragging you across the room.

With his free hand he undid the four locks on the large steel door and pulled your through it. Once on the other side he took care to lock them all again, keeping a firm grasp on you the whole time.

You were dragged down a long, narrow corridor towards another steel door, this one with just one lock on.

He slid the key in and opened it, pulled you inside and locked it behind him.

The room was much smaller than the one you’d been held in and only housed a single cot.

He licked his lip as he looked at you. His large, thick fingers stroked your cheek and you had to try and hide your disgust.

“En la cama. Ahora.”

On the bed. Now.

You had to pick the opportune moment. You had to plan this just right. You had no doubt he had a gun on him so if you faltered even slightly, he would kill you.

“Qué tal esto.”

How about this.

You made a show of licking your lips and then dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Whoa, feisty. I like it.” He grinned, his meaty hands going to his belt buckle.

Yes. Right where you wanted him.

While he was fumbling with his belt, you reached your hand back into your left boot, drawing your gun in one swift move.

You head butted him in the crotch, sending him stumbling backwards, crying out in pain.

“Mierda!” Shit. “Usted puta!”

You whore!

You were on your feet in a second, your gun trained on him.

“You will never hurt another woman again.” You spat, furious tears suddenly streaming from your eyes.

He looked up at you, his mouth opened to speak.

But the words didn’t come out as your bullet hit him between the eyes.

“Who’s the puta now?”

***

“I would say,” Spencer chewed his lip. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank god.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly. “And I did. If I hadn’t shot him, who knows how many other women would have died.”

Spencer pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Just so you know, we got word from the hospital a little while ago. Roberta Suez, Delilah, is going to be just fine.”

“Oh thank god.” You felt tears brimming your eyes.

He opened the door and turned back to you.

“Are you coming?”

“I can leave?”

“You were never under arrest.” He smirked at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

You got up from the chair and Spencer motioned you out of the room.

“I’ll walk you out.” He showed you across the bullpen towards the elevators. There was an awkward air between the two of you.

Did you say anything? It didn’t seem as though he remembered you, was it worth reminding him?

He motioned you into the elevator first and he followed, pressing the button.

The elevator started its descent.

Time was running out.

“So uhm…” Spencer turned to you and turned too. “How’s your mom?”

A smile broke out on your features.

“I didn’t think you remembered me.”

“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “I recognised you the second you walked in.”

“It’s been twenty years.” You laughed.

“Eighteen years, seven months.” He corrected you. “But I could never forget your face.”

You blushed a little, averting your gaze.

“My moms doing ok. Thanks for asking. How’s your mom?” You looked back at him.

“Recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.” He told you sadly.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok. These things happen.” He shrugged. “Made it to thirty without having a schizophrenic break but now I have to wait until I’m older to find out if I’ll develop Alzheimer’s.”

The doors to the elevator opened and you stepped out, Spencer close behind.

“I really am sorry Spencer.”

“It’s ok.” He shrugged. “Is your mom still at Bennington? I used to see her when I went to visit my mom but I moved her out a little while ago.”

“Yeah she’s still there. She likes being close to my dad.”

You both hovered by the exit, not ready to say goodbye.

“Can I take you for coffee? If you don’t have anywhere else to be.” Spencer blushed as he spoke.

“I’d like that. A lot actually. But I’d really like to shower and change out of this getup.” You laughed. “How about dinner?”

“Dinner sounds perfect.” He grinned at you.

You gave him a smile and turned to leave but before you made it to the door Spencer spoke again.

“Y/N,” he called your name, his voice cracking a little. “You uh...you forgot something.”

You turned to face him curiously.

He walked closer to you and without a second thought, placed his hands on your face and kissed you.

For a second you stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

But after a few moments you wrapped your arms around his neck and opened your mouth to deepen the kiss.

When the kiss ended you were both smiling at one another.

“What was that for?” You asked softly.

“Oh you know…” he shrugged with a coy smile. “Just something that needed to be done.”

“I’ll meet you back here in a few hours.” You told him, touching his chest briefly.

“Ok.”

“Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.” He croaked.

And with that you sauntered out the doors but not out of his life.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Spencer?” You’d only made it a few paces away from Bennington before you stopped in your tracks, calling his name. “You uh...you forgot something.”

He turned to face you curiously.

You walked closer to him and without a second thought, placed your hands on his face and kissed him.

He stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

It was just a brief kiss, Spencer was too confused to do anything but stand there dumbly.

“Wh-what was that for?” He swallowed.

“Just something that needed to be done.” You smiled. “Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.”

And with that you sauntered back down the street, hoping that one day, the universe would lead you back into each other’s lives.

—————————————————————

Taglist (let me know if you would like to be added) -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

@mggsprettygirl @measure-in-pain

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #david rossi #jennifer jareau #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader

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1kook · 3 years

Text

card swiped (4)

→ jeon jungkook x (f) reader

→ “I’ve known Jungkook was a virgin since he first tried to tell me he wasn’t,” you tell him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows.” GENRE romance (romcom?), eventual smut, teensy angst WARNING mentions of a hand job, talk of virginity OTHER college crushes, volleyball player!jk, student council president!oc, idiots to lovers, besties to lovers, childhood friends au RATING m (18+) bc brief sex ment WC 1.6k

NOTES (!) sorry for taking so long to update </3 school be kicking my ass. anyway here they are! an idiot couple. lmk what u think!!

[ masterlist ]

In the past, whenever something had bothered you, the first person you ran to was Jungkook. Low grades, fights with your parents, boy drama— as your best friend and number one confidant, Jungkook was always your first choice. He was always willing to lend you a shoulder to cry on, even if that meant staining his white t-shirts with streaks of your mascara. He was always ready to go beat up a mean boy who had hurt your feelings during lunch, even if he’d miss his favorite special. And he was always down for some good old fashion i hate my parents ranting, even if he adored your parents. He was a great listener, an even better best friend, and had rightfully won you over from a very young age.

That being said, how were you supposed to talk to Jungkook about something that bothered you when that something was him?

You could easily tell any of your numerous girl friends, those of which would probably understand your predicament better than Jungkook or any man ever could. But after years of vehemently denying any notion of a romantic relationship between the two of you, you get the feeling your call for help will be met with more unimpressed glares than actual assistance. Besides, as much as you bring up Jungkook, none of them really know Jungkook to truly offer you any worthwhile advice.

Your next option: Kim Taehyung. Now, Kim Taehyung held a similar background as Jungkook (translation: he also went to the same high school as you). He knows both you and Jungkook—frankly, more than you’d like him to—so he would be able to dissect the issue easily and offer trustworthy advice. The problem with Kim Taehyung, however, is that aside from knowing you at your embarrassingly dorky teenage prime, he doesn’t know how to keep a secret. Anything he knows, Jungkook knows. So if you were to, hypothetically, ask Taehyung for advice on Jungkook, well. Chances are, you’d probably get a rather confused text from Jungkook two minutes later.

Which leaves you with one option— Park Jimin. There’s a reason Park Jimin isn’t your first option, and that reason presents itself now as you glare at him from across the empty room. For as long as you’ve been in university, Jimin has always lingered around the student council meetings, giving everyone he sees the prettiest, meanest stink-eye. You suspect it’s because he waits around for Min Yoongi, your Vice President (which isn’t an issue; Jungkook also frequents student council meetings while waiting for you), and doesn’t really care for anyone else. Your problem with Jimin doesn’t lie there but rather with the fact he’s adamant on taking up space and not lending so much as a finger to help.

Today he is sitting with his feet on the table, dirty volleyball bag tossed on the floor. He’s watched you for the last fifteen minutes wrestle with the broken copy machine and hasn’t said a word since. He pretends he doesn’t see you struggling, because if he does, he’d be obligated to help you.

To summarize, Park Jimin may be the fastest libero your university’s volleyball team has seen in years, but he’s a good-for-nothing bum everywhere else.

And despite all that, he’s your best choice. There’s no one quite as blunt and honest as Park Jimin. There’s no one in this world who truly doesn’t care enough about anyone’s problems to gossip about them as Park Jimin. You plop down beside him, rumpled papers in hand. Without warning, you jump straight into it. “Jungkook is going to take my virginity,” you announce, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. If any of your fellow student council members heard you, you’re certain you’d shrivel up and die.

Jimin hums. “That’s nice.” His eyes don’t leave his phone, thumb hovering over his screen. It’s a testament to how much he truly does not care. His extended silence plants a seed of doubt in you— was this the right person to tell? you begin to worry. But after a beat, Jimin’s thumb taps against his screen and he says, “Jungkook is a virgin.”

You clench your jaw. “I know.”

The thing about Jimin is, with the right wording, you can get him interested in something. Not interested enough to genuinely care, but interested enough to at least listen and offer his own piece of straightforward advice. His thumb comes to a standstill over his phone, eyes momentarily going blank. It’s a minute gesture, one that’s taken you four years of paying attention to catch. Just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. “Really,” Jimin sighs, back to, you now realize, playing CandyCrush on his phone. “You’re gonna let a virgin take your virginity.”

Not a question, but you nod anyway. “Yup.”

There’s sweat building on the back of your neck, nerves at an all time high, but you’re trying to play it off. Just a little bit more and you know you’ll have caught him. Beside you, Jimin’s jaw twitches.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity of trying to act calm, Jimin clicks his phone off and turns to you. He’s as intimidating as ever, ash blonde hair pushed back today to reveal his forehead and dark eyes. “You’ve known Jungkook was a virgin this whole time?” he asks, has this calculating look in his eyes that makes you feel like you’re being questioned by an officer of the law and not the shortest person on the volleyball team.

With a practiced air of nonchalance, you shrug. “I have,” you confess, and it’s the truth.

While you may have been initially fooled that night two years ago, you weren’t that oblivious. Oh, you knew clear as day that Jeon Jungkook was still a virgin, just as well as you knew that he religiously washed his sheets every weekend or that he had a specific color coded system for his underwear drawer. Jungkook was a fool to try and lie to you, not only because you had found out, but because you had found out that very next morning.

It had been subtle. The night at the party, you had watched on with a throbbing heartache as some pretty girl led Jungkook up a set of stairs, had barely fought off a wave of emotion when he returned twenty minutes later, his hair a rumpled mess. “Did you… ?” you had mumbled, pressed closely against him by the back door. Your eyes had been glassy, from your emotions and from the drunken stupor you had gotten yourself into while he was away, wondering what he was doing. A sense of jealousy you would never admit to had curled around your heart. His hand had landed on your hip then. He smelled like flowers and vanilla, a smell unlike his own. Your heart clenched, hand mindlessly reaching up to cup his jaw, so drunk and heartbroken, you couldn’t stop yourself from trailing your fingers along his pretty cheekbones.

Jungkook had graced you with a simple nod, and then, “do you wanna leave now?”

You’d left, stumbling down Greek road on your way back to his dorm. Jungkook had held your hand the whole way, tucked you into his twin bed, and then promptly knocked out on the floor between his and Taehyung’s beds. The latter was nowhere to be found, wouldn’t appear until the next morning when he’d accidentally step on Jungkook’s ankle and wake both of you up.

Jungkook had yelped, and your eyes had fluttered open. You remember debating rolling over, checking on him like you wanted to, but Taehyung was already there doing just that. So you had laid still instead, listened as the two boys clattered around the room. They chatted mindlessly, about the party and tomorrow’s practice. Taehyung had been bragging about some girl he’d slept with last night. “What about you?” he had asked, and your breath caught in your throat. “Did you and…”—a pause, the distinct ruffle of fabric—“finally?”

“What— no,” Jungkook had said, and you felt the bed dip as he sat down on the edge beside you.

Taehyung pushed on with a snort. “Well, did you get lucky at all?”

Jungkook groaned, placed one warm hand on your back soothingly. You tried your best to level out your breathing, relaxed your facial expression as you clung to the sound of his voice. “Just a handjob. Some girl I didn’t even know. Does that count?” You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, felt it beneath your fingertips when you fisted the sheets.

And that curt admission sat in the back of your mind everyday for two years.

You turn to Jimin. “I’ve known Jungkook was a virgin since he first tried to tell me he wasn’t,” you tell him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows.”

Jimin lets out a low whistle. “You’re smarter than I thought,” he grins, this conniving little smile that is a genuine cause for concern. “So you’re letting him think you don’t know?” You nod. Jimin’s smile grows. “My, my. If I had known you were this evil, maybe we would’ve hung out more.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not evil,” you insist, flicking him on the nose. Jimin huffs indignantly. “I think what he’s doing is sweet…” you confess, feel your entire body heat up as you recall that wide-eyed look Jungkook had given you just yesterday afternoon, your kiss print fresh on his cheek. “And, well,” you look down at your shoes. “I used to dream about him being my first.”

Jimin groans. “You two make me sick.”

#networkbangtan #kwritersworldnet #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #bts #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jjk #mine

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rommahh · 3 years

Text

Better

Word Count: 3.9K

Pairing: Buckybarnesxfem!reader

{This is for @metalbuckaroo's challenge. I had this brewing for a minute but college has got in a chokehold. I chose prompt #30 from the given prompt list. I hope y'all like this read. Love, R}

Bucky trailed behind Y/N as she ignored his calls. Her boots clicked loudly in the small hallway as she rushed towards their shared apartment. Her keys shook in her hand, body tense with anxiety and anger.

Bucky reached her at the door, his hands loosely gripping her arms. Y/N shoved the door open, her body snapping away from his. Y/N haphazardly throws her keys in the small bowl that sat on the hallway side table.

Her chest heaved with deep breaths as she tried to remain calm.

“Y/N please, what is going on? Why are you so mad?” Bucky questioned, slamming the door behind him as his own frustrations started to catch up with him.

“I'm going to bed.” Is all she said to him without even meeting his eyes. She was quick to enter her room and lock the door before he could say anymore. Bucky stood behind her door in confusion. His body still tingled with the lasting effects of the shots he took hours prior.

Sitting on your bed, Y/N finally released. Her shoulders dropped, her body hunching over itself as the tears started flowing.

Y/N had been looking for Bucky for what felt like hours. He was her ride back to the apartment and having been at this party for over four hours- she was exhausted. There was a twinge of disappointment that lingered in her caused by Bucky's disappearance. He invited her to this party tonight but quickly left her to her own devices the moment the both of them walked through the frat’s doors.

The house was mainly empty except for the few lingering bodies that were drunkenly wandering around. She climbed up the stairs that lead to a common room on the second floor. Y/N’s cute white go-go boots were tight on your feet, making her wince at every step. Fashion was a moment type thing, not a four hour long excursion.

Y/N heard a group of voices leading from the common room once you reached the top of the stairs. She listened out waiting to see if she could hear Bucky’s voice before walking through the doors of the common room.

“I don't know why you hang out with that girl Bucky.” Her ears perked at his name. Y/N almost walked through the door but she took a step back to listen to what they were saying.

“Yeah, shes fucking weird.” The group laughed. “I mean look at how she dressed tonight. She’s wearing a costume.”

Y/N looked down at her 80’s inspired dress with a frown. She thought she looked cute tonight, Bucky said she looked cute. She couldn't stop blushing after she heard his words.

“She’s a freak barnes. All she does is follow you around. Are you sure you guys aren't dating?” One of the boys asked with a chuckle. No one said her name yet but she knew they were talking about her. She could tell.

“Y/N’s not that bad. She just doesn't have any friends. I don't like her like that, not my type. She's got that weird anxiety thing.” Bucky's voice finally sounded out from the group. Y/N heart hurt hearing his words. Weird anxiety thing?

“Yeah, making her a freak. So you're just friends with her out of pity? Are you at least getting community service hours?” The group laughed again, Bucky's deep laugh standing out to Y/N.

“You have a lot of strength for a man who's not getting any ass from the girl he's keeping company with. Shes weird as fuck but her body is still bangin. Have you ever copped a feel of her tits? I would hang out with the loser if I got to fuck her too.” Someone commented. Y/N felt bile rise in her throat. She could feel a panic attack approaching having heard the sexual comments about her body. She stepped out from around the wall into the common room. All eyes snapped up to her, some eyes widening in shock. Bucky just looked up, not catching on that his roommate may have heard the horrid words said about her.

“I-im ready to go home, Bucky.” She hadn't looked up from where her feet were rooted on the stained wood floors. Bucky slowly wobbled up from his seat. The rest of the guys watching quietly, some snickering at Bucky's submissiveness.

“Here sweets, you're gonna have to drive.” Bucky says handing his keys over to Y/N. Without looking at him, she snatches the keys from his hands and quickly retreats to his car. Bucky stumbles behind her confused by her attitude.

Y/N walked to Bucky’s car, arms covering whatever they could cover on her body. Her mind telling her she was unsafe, her anxiety telling her even worse things.

Bucky eyes burned from the headache he had. He felt physically ill as he woke up from the living room couch. Last night's activities blur in his mind, no clear memories presenting themselves. He sits up to rest his forearms on his knees trying to calm his bubbling stomach.

The first thing he notices as he comes to his senses is the lack of Y/N’s noise. Normally the small apartment would be filled with the sounds of her sunday playlist as she cleans about. He also doesn't smell her extra dark and strong coffee that she only makes for sundays. He doesnt smell her out of the can cinnamon rolls either that she would normally wake him up with on a small tray with said coffee.

He finds it odd that her presence is lacking in the apartment. Standing, he makes his way over to her room knocking on it slightly. He hears shuffling from the other side but no one comes to open the door.

“Hey sweets, everything ok?” He knocks again to gain her attention.

“I-Im fine Bucky, please go away.” She stutters out to Bucky. Bucky is shocked by her statement not used to being pushed away by her.

“Oh ok, just let me know if you need anything.” He says quietly.

Y/N remained the same way over the next few days. She rarely came out of her room when she was in the apartment leaving Bucky on his own. She stopped making him meals out of kindness or filling up his canisters of water for workouts. She stopped baking him treats as midday pick me ups. She didnt wait for him to get out of classes so they could gossip about what was going on on campus. She didnt bother him at all.

Bucky felt uneasy about Y/N’s silence. He was hurt by her sudden disappearance. Hurt that she could just ghost him without any reason. But there was a reason, Bucky just didnt remember.

Y/N sluggishly walked into the apartment after taking an extensive exam in one of her classes. She tried to walk quietly throughout the apartment to not catch the attention of Bucky. She walks softly on her feet close to the opening of the kitchen.

“Hey.” A quiet voice makes Y/N jump in her spot. Her mission of going unnoticed failed. Bucky leans against the kitchen counter that is parallel to the opening of the kitchen. His feet are crossed in front of him, hands holding a cup of tea.

“Hi.” Her tone matches his. She turns her body to face his, hands fidgeting with each other. She slightly moved from foot to foot, a trait that had been acquired out of nerves. Bucky recognized her tic, his heart constricting at the thought that he might have done something to cause it.

“Y/N, please, what's going on?” Bucky can see that she's not wearing one of her normal outfits that are adorned in bright colors and fun patterns. Instead, her body is covered in a boring sweater that hides most of her body. She wears a large pair of jeans underneath, a belt tightly bounding it to her body.

“Nothing Bucky.” She dismisses. Bucky feels his anger peak. A range of emotion he tried to hide away breaching over its point. He missed his best friend beyond belief and all she could give was a few words.

“It's not nothing Y/N!” He snaps slamming his mug of tea on the counter. Y/N flinches at the sound. Her hands start to shake, not out of fear of Bucky but from unwarranted anxiousness. “I've given you your space but its killing me. I miss you Y/N. I dont get what happened?”

Y/N feels her eyes well up with tears.

“You hurt me Bucky.” It was Bucky’s turn to flinch hearing her words. He hurt her?

“I don't know what I did though.” His voice sounded childlike as he whined.

“At the party, you let your friends talk poorly about me. You-you let them call me a freak and-and weird. They made fun of my clothes and said you were hanging out with me out of pity and you just sat there and laughed James!” Her voice rose with every word. Bits and pieces of that night float around in his head. He can slightly remember the conversation but nothing is clearly showing in his head.

“I'm sorry they said that Y/N but you know that's not true. We both know our relationship, I don't know why you're letting them get to you.”

“They talked about my anxiety. You talked about my anxiety!”

“That's it? That's why you're not talking to me?” He exclaimed throwing his hands in the air.

“You let them sexualize me!” The kitchen filled with an uncomfortable silence. Bucky’s exterior softened.

“What?” His tone was drastically softer than it was earlier.

“You just sat and listened to them as they talked about my body. They talked about my boobs and if youve had sex with me and you said nothing. They said that they would hang with the loser if they could fuck me...How could you let them say that about me?” Y/N whimpered. Her hands cradled her face as she sobbed. Bucky saw the way her chest heaved with each sob, tears forming in his own eyes.

“I didn't know. I wouldn't have let them say those things sober. You have to know that.” He almost fell to his knees pleading for her forgiveness.

“You even said you wouldn't date me. I know its stupid but I thought you liked me back. You told me you loved me. You've taken me out on dates. You've kissed me for goodness sake!”

“I know and I'm sorry. I do like you, I don't know why I said that. I like you so much.” His knees buckled slightly but he held his ground.

“Obviously you dont Bucky. We should just stay away from each other from now on and I won't be renewing my leasing contract at the end of the semester.” She finalizes. Buckys whispers a small no in protest. “You really hurt me, Bucky. I would never let anyone slander you. I respect you too much to allow for someone else to disrespect you.”

With that being said, she gave Bucky one last look over before walking away. Bucky was knocked out of his thoughts at the sound of her door slamming shut and the lock being secured.

Bucky sat on the kitchen floor, the cold tile seeping through his pants to chill his legs. His face adorned with a frown, tears sliding down his warm cheeks. Y/N was his best friend and he ruined it by being a shitty person. He knows he should have defended her, defended their relationship.

Bucky’s rolly chair was his only source of entertainment at his desk in the lobby of the admissions office. Today was a slow day. There were only a few students who came in asking for help finding buildings or looking for the financial aid office. Some high school student came in for tours but his coworkers beat him to doing tours so here he was stuck in the quiet office. He had already stolen a large amount of guest snacks, a cold bottle of tea and a sugar cookie with the school's logo on it.

His chair spinning activities came to a halt when he heard the front door open with a small jingle sounding from it. He took a moment to let the dizziness fade away before he looked up. Bucky felt his breath stop in his throat.

There stood a girl with overalls and a bright colored top. She wore dark green converse, high tops, with frilly socks that peeked from the top. She had large glasses that framed her face perfectly. She was looking around the office, eyes wide with wonder. Her eyes finally met Bucky's, making a large smile appear on her face.

“Hi!” She exclaimed walking up to Bucky’s desk.

“Hey, what can I help you with today?” Bucky asked cooly.

“I just transferred here and I was wondering if you knew where I could apply for on campus jobs?” She placed her hands on top of the counter of Bucky’s desk. He admired her baby blue acrylics that had white flowers on them.

“Oh um, the admissions office is hiring. We do all of the tours for highschool students, or package and mail acceptance letters. Sometimes we plan scholarship events. It's an easy pay type of job. I just sit here and do homework my whole shift.” Bucky answers. “What's your name so I can get my boss to contact you?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” Bucky quickly scribbled your name on a post it note and stuck it to his laptop as a reminder. “Do you really like this job or are you just trying to pull me in?” She jests with a small smile on her face.

“I mean it's a decent job but im sure with you working here it would make it ten times prettier.” Bucky smirked at the giggle that escaped Y/N. He wasn't normally a flirt but he couldn't help himself with this one.

“Oh really? How many times have you said that line to a girl?” Bucky put a hand to his chest in a fake offense.

“You think too low of me Y/N. I saved that one for the prettiest girl to walk through the door.”

“Hmm, ok. I'll believe it only because my ego needs this boost. Hey, you never told me your name. How am I supposed to write about this encounter in my journal if I don't have your name?”

“My name is James but I prefer if people just call me Bucky. Short for Buchanon, I know it's weird.” Bucky leans back in his chair, arms crossed. He can see her eyes checking out the way his muscles flex underneath his long sleeve shirt. He may have purposefully flexed a little extra for show.

“No, I love it. I dont think ive ever met a Bucky.” She counters. She leans forward, placing her elbows on the counter, her chest pressed against the front of the counter.

“Well I'm glad I'm your first Bucky.” He jokes with a small smile on his face. There was a small moment of silence shared between the two as they just looked at each other. Bucky couldn't help but think about how cute she was as Y/N thought the same thing.

“Oh gosh, I'm probably holding you up from your work.” She snaps out of her little spell rolling her eyes at herself. “I should get going.”

Bucky frowned at the idea of her leave, wanting nothing more than to continue talking to the new girl.

“Right, of course. Maybe I could get your number...so I can notify you about the job.” Bucky proposes. Y/N raises one eyebrow in question, a knowing smile placed on her lips.

“Sure thing bucky.” He hands her a pen and post it for her number. “I wouldn't be opposed to you using this number for things other than work too.” She suggested. She signed her name on the post it note ending it with a small heart.

“I will definitely take you up on that offer. No take backs though when I start sending you random shit.” She giggled, leaning up from her spot. Bucky basked at the sweet sound. He stood up to meet her on the other side of the desk.

“Well Bucky, it was lovely to meet you.” She stuck her hand out for him to shake, he reciprocated the action. Her hands were soft and warm, he thought. She gave him one last smile before walking away.

It was warm outside on the quad as Bucky sat by himself. He sat at the table that would normally be occupied by Y/N and him. Y/N would bring lunch- made by her. Anytime Bucky would try to help her by making lunch she would kick him out of the kitchen. Today, Bucky sat by himself, with no hand made lunch. He had a greasy bag of french fries and a large coke. He planned on eating his sorrows away.

“Hey Bucky!” A voice yelled out to him. Looking up from his fries, Bucky looked towards the sound that broke him out of his fries excursion. Tanner and Logan, his friends from the party, came walking over to him. They both sat down, throwing their lunch onto the table.

“Where's Ms. weirdo?” Tanner asks, mouth full of food. Bucky grimaced at Tanner's manners. He also felt the anger he should have felt on Saturday bloom in his chest.

“She's not weird.” Bucky snapped, fists tightening in his lap. Tanner scoffed, Logan laughing along with him.

“Says you. She is fucking weird. Did you finally get some from her or something? Defending her and shit.” Logan clapped Tanner on his back agreeing with him. “Shit, good for you dude. I would have fucked her a while ago. Probably would have kept her face down so I wouldn't have to see her-”

Before Tanner could finish his sentence, he was thrown from his seat from the powerful punch being landed on his jaw. His feet flew from where he was sitting, landing on his back with a heavy thud.

“Dude what the fuck?” Tanner stood wiping his face from the blood that started to trickle down from his bloody eyebrow. Bucky had never felt anger like this before. His heart was racing, his breathing labored. His cheeks were red and warm, eyebrows turned down.

“No, you don't get to make fun of her and make sexual comments about her.” Bucky snarled. Tanner rolled his eyes, walking closer to Bucky.

“Oh fuck off with that! You didn't defend her this hard on saturday.” Tanner's mistake after his words was shoving Bucky's shoulders back. Bucky reacted quickly by shoving Tanner with even more force.

Tanner threw a punch to Bucky’s jaw, making his head fly back. Bucky tackled Tanner to the ground, throwing punches left and right. Tanner fought back, hands flying landing punches wherever he could land them.

Logan was able to pull Bucky off of Tanner, warning the two that campus police would arrest them if they were caught. Both boys stared at each other fuming. Bucky snatched his trash and his backpack up, the scowl never leaving his face.

“If I ever see you looking or talking to Y/N, I will bash your face in.” Bucky growled.

Y/N felt better today. She found the strength to wear a cute outfit versus the oversized clothes she had been wearing prior out of fear. She didn't want anyone to look at her in any harmful way. She wanted to wear her cute outfits that were sometimes form fitting and short. She liked to wear her cute period pieces that had her own twist on them. She spent many years hating her body and the way she looked. She deserved to feel cute without thinking she is at fault for being sexualized and poorly treated.

She whipped out one of her favorite outfits today, loving the way it fit on her body making her feel confident. Sitting at the front desk of the admissions office, her feet propped up on the desk. Her shift was going by slowly, no one needing assistance this late in the day.

The door burst open making Y/N jump from her seat. She stood up shocked to see Bucky walk in with a huff. He wasn't supposed to work today but here he was. Y/N gasped looking at his cut lip and bruising eye.

“Bucky, what happened?” She maneuvered her way around the desk to stand in front of the beat up boy. She placed both of her hands on his cheeks to examine his injuries. He moved his face away from her tears brimming his eyes.

“I'm sorry Y/N. I'm really sorry. I should have protected you from them. I should've told them not to speak about you that way. You are more than some eye candy for men to act disgusting towards. You are beautiful and eclectic. You have a brilliant mind that shines brighter than anyone elses on this campus.” He spoke to her softly.

“I don't understand Bucky. What made you have this change of heart? You didn't give two shits about me last weekend.” She crossed her arms defensively.

“I know and I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe it was the alcohol but that's no excuse. I love you. I love all of you. You're not weird. You're your own person and I love everything about you. You do so much for me and I feel like shit for not doing the bare minimum for you.” His words stunned her.

“You love me?”

“God, with everything I have. Since the day you walked in here with those overalls. I've spent the past four years loving you.” Bucky whispered. He grabbed her hand, thumb rubbing over her knuckles.

“I love you too, Bucky. I really do and I'm hurt. I don't think the hurt will go away for some time. You let them speak horribly about me. If you loved me like I was your girl, you would have defended me.” She spoke sorrowfully.

“I know, I know. I can't change the fact that I did nothing but I can tell you that I'm sorry. I'm always going to protect you. I did today. Tanner may be sporting a nasty goose egg on his eye because of his dumbass words.” Y/N giggled softly, touching his bruising knuckles.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

“I want to go back to normal. I miss you in the mornings and-and during our lunch breaks outside. I miss you.” Bucky stated.

“I miss you too.”

Bucky watched her eyes drop down to his lip, busted and all. He leaned forward slightly hoping she would meet him in the middle. She met him the rest of the way pressing her lips to his. Bucky relished this moment. He relished to be even sharing moments with the girl he's been in love with since the second he saw her.

“I'm gonna be better, I promise.”

#metalbuck's 2k writing challenge #college!bucky #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky angst #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes

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critical-goat · 3 years

Text

The Brothers Animal Forms

I know animal forms are something talked about a lot, but... I also wanted to chip in my two sense on the matter <3

Also thank you to the Discord server pals for inspiring this. All chosen for fun rather than realism.

general head canons

while they can choose what animal they turn into, it takes extra energy to maintain a form that isn’t their familiar animal

they can’t exactly how that form appears, so their appearance for that form is consistent each transformation, but not necessarily the same compared to other forms

Lucifer

His default animal form is, unsurprisingly, a peacock. He’s been known to occasionally turn into a bat or a wolf if the need arises.

His feathers are solid black and shiny and his tail feathers sport blindingly white eye stalks (if you stick him in a dark room they glow!!)

If he has to go with you while shapeshifted, he WILL park himself right on your shoulder like a cantankerous shoulder ornament. His tail feathers are always draped over your shoulder, looking like a kick ass cape and if he tucks his head around your neck just right, he could be mistaken for a weird and clunky accessory. He does eventually get to be too much for your shoulders (bc these bastards weigh like 20 pounds, its ok at first but after awhile it gets HEAVY)

Even as a bird, he has a stare that would make all but the hardiest turn tail and run and given that peacocks are dicks and prone to violence, no one would think twice about getting close. (it goes double when they realize holy shit its the freaking Avatar of Pride)

You’re going to be hard pressed to convince him to turn into anything else. His wolf form closely resembles Cerberus but don’t mention it or accuse him of loving his dog, he’ll deny everything.

If you try to convince people Lucifer is your emotional support animal, he will bite you when no one is looking. Affectionately and in a very unsexy manner.

Mammon

Default is a magpie, shiny black with a big white patch upon his chest. Sees no reason to turn into anything else. (I can see him taking a liking to ferrets just to hang off your shoulder like a floppy noodle)

Mammon refuses to NOT go with you, so he’ll sneak his little birdy butt into your bags when you go somewhere and hide out until you get somewhere he can (spy on) guard you from afar.

He’s found its a lot easier to snitch anything that catches his eye when he’s a bird, but he also doesn’t.... really have a way to distinguish bird instinct saying “oh, shiny. must keep” and “oh that’s something actually valuable” and at the end of the day he has more stuff that bird brain thought was valuable than things that are actually valuable.

Might explain why he tends to get away his thievery.

Leviathan

Itty bitty little snake!! Only alternative is Very Big snake. Bigger than a house. Could probably bite a ship in half (are we sure that’s a snake and not his true form??)

Narrow face and dark sleek scale. Longer than he is thick (wait are we still talking about snakes or- *bonk*)

Wraps himself around your neck like a scarf, and as much as he wants to hide away from prying eyes, could NEVER work up the courage to hide himself in your clothes, especially wrapping around your torso. What, are you trying to give him a heart attack or something!?

Please bring a sufficiently large enough bag for him to hide in, he can’t take all the stares.

Has the most boopable snoot. Do it. He’ll be upset if you do it in front of anyone.

Satan

Despite the current reputation of the unicorn in pop culture, there’s a reason they’re Satan’s familiars. The real ones are spiteful creatures and prone to fits of mischief.

But unicorns aren’t exactly..... inconspicuous or allowed into enclosed spaces. So he does have alternatives he often turns to instead. Go ahead and guess what he turns into...... If you guessed a cat, you are correct.

As a unicorn he’s a pale sandy color, with slender legs, hoof ‘feathering’, the traditional tufted tail, and a branching, jagged horn.

Cat Satan is rather petite, and ginger in color and the type of cat that will knock over a full glass of water for your attention. PET HIM DAMMIT. (Also has a boopable snoot, more receptive than Levi)

If you must bring him along as a cat, he will insist on trying to balance on your shoulder. Eventually gives up and settles for letting you cradle him oh so gently as you walk.

... It’s not that bad. Oh wait, is that Lucifer staring him down? Suddenly its become the best and only way to accompany you places. take that you cantankerous bastar-

Asmodeus

Scorpion bab. As much as he finds beauty in his insect familiar, they’re not for travel. Can usually be found as rabbit instead. (insert horny joke here) The prettiest little bun you’ll ever see. Has also been known to turn into a sparrow and a stag.

Tiny bun, can fit in your hands for optimal ease of carrying. Champagne colors, with cute lil droopy ears and a dark nose.

He insists you carry him with you one of two ways. On your shoulder and continuing to pet and cradle him or in a fashionable bag. No compromising on it either.

Adores the attention he gets from strangers. He is rather adorable, isn’t he? <3

Wait, Asmo stop charming people into giving you more pats you fiend.

Good luck getting untangled from all the crowding people.

Beelzebub

A fly. Has been known to turn into other bugs (mostly beetles) and not much else.

As a beetle, he’s a very bright and vibrant red color.

He’s followed you around as a fly before and it was ok for a bit.... but you keep mistaking him for a regular fly and swatting him, much to your horror. Its ok, he knows you wouldn’t have if you remembered (somehow that makes you feel worse than if he’d been upset)

Eventully he opted for the beetle instead (its not any less confusing some times but the number of swats goes down significantly)

You don’t know why, but for some reason you were possessed to bedazzle beetle Beel exactly once. He came out so very pretty. You even managed to tie a ribbon on one of his atennae. Very pretty indeed. You still have pictures of the incident.

Beel was a very good sport about it.

Belphegor

Cow man. He refuses to turn into anything else. Too much effort. Once he turns into a cow, you’ll have a cow on your hands for quite some time, finding that he doesn’t care enough to turn back just yet.

Fuzzy cow, very long fur, droopy ears, and big soulful eyes. Wicked dangerous horn, though. He’s tried to trample Lucifer a large handful of times, Diavolo at least twice, and tried to gore Satan once. (Satan won that battle and he decided never again)

You’re not getting him to go anywhere. Even if he could be convinced to physically moce somewhere, its not like anyone is gonna let a whole cow in.

And so, for a great many reasons, cow Belphie happens very rarely

He makes for a wonderful pillow though.

#i had too much fun with these #i also put a liiittle too much thought into the sparrow and stag for asmo #he just seemed like both so i looked it up #liked what they were associated with and kept it #obey me headcanons #obey me humor #obey me shitpost #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me scenarios

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looooooooomis · 4 years

Text

Somebody’s Baby

a stu macher x fem!reader one shot requested by the lovely @slasherscream

I try to shut my eyes, but I can't get her outta my sight. I know I'm gonna know her, but I gotta get over my fright.

pairing: Stu Macher x fem!reader word count: 5.6k warnings: s m u t, longing, fluff, angst, oral, teasing, honestly I went off (my bad)

Stu Macher never really did stand a chance. At least not when it came to you.

He was putty in your hands, whether you knew it or not. He’d do anything for you, everything for you – even if that meant taking a backseat to Billy Loomis. He had to admit, it was gutting to watch you and Billy interact the way you did. The two of you were close – hell, the three of you were close – but there was something about you and Billy that seemed to just…make sense.

And, for the most part, Stu was okay with that. For the most part being the key words. Because, fuck, he’d be a liar if he said that tonight of all nights wasn’t bothering him. It was a night not unlike any other. The three of you had decided on a movie that Stu couldn’t really bring himself to care about all too much as you and Billy harped on and on about whatever it was the two of you were talking about, but it was your attitude that was rubbing him the wrong way.

You were distant tonight. You were cold. You seemed to smile real big whenever Billy would make a comment about the movie but if Stu said a goddamn word it was as though he’d sucker punched you in the gut. It didn’t feel angry, or at least he didn’t think you were angry, but there was something off about the whole damn thing and it was driving him mental.

You were tucked away in the chair with your knees curled up into your chest, frowning at a particularly bloody scene on the TV, a seemingly important one too, but Stu couldn’t bring himself to watch it. He was far too busy trying to discern what the lines on your forehead meant, what the furrowed brow and small, barely-there frown on that pretty face of yours meant. Had he unknowingly done something wrong? He didn’t think so, but stupid shit came out of his mouth all day long so, he supposed, it wasn’t impossible.

But there was a niggling feeling in his gut that told him that couldn’t be it. You weren’t mad or annoyed, you were cold. You were distant. It was as though you’d barricaded yourself away from him and done so with purpose. But why?

Why, why, why?

“It’s eight, Stu,” Billy muttered, far too engrossed in the movie to bother looking his way. “Didn’t you have to be at whatsername’s by eight-thirty?”

Glancing down at the time on his watch, Stu stretched out his long limbs and chanced another look at you only to find that your eyes were solely focused on the wall just beyond the television. For a moment, he remained still, waiting for you to do something. To look at him, to make a quip about his date, to do literally anything besides ignore him, but when your stare remained cast ahead, Stu sighed and stood up to his full height. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” He griped. “Think she’ll put out?”

It was meant to be a joke, something to lighten the mood or, at the very least, get you to crack a smile or roll your eyes, but when all you did was continue in your stare-off with the fucking wall, Stu’s stomach fell.

What the fuck was your problem tonight?

“Tact, fucker. Y/N is right here.” Billy rolled his eyes but shot him a small smirk. “And if she has a brain, don’t count on it.”

“Hilarious,” Stu mocked. “You guys need anything before I go? Some water? Some beer? Handful of condoms?”

“Fuck off,” Billy cracked a grin. “Don’t do anything stupid tonight.” He gave Stu a knowing look, being sure to keep his mouth shut around you in fear of letting anything regarding their little charade slip.

“Me?” Stu feigned hurt. “Never.”

Once again, he waited for you to say anything – a goodbye, at the very least – but when he got nothing in return, Stu merely rolled his eyes and walked out of the house.

You, on the other hand, remained stoic as ever as you blinked back a flurry of tears daring to spill out of the corners of your eyes. Your heart was in your stomach and your nails, which had been digging into your palms for the better half of the evening, carved out tiny half-moons into the sensitive flesh as you fought back every urge you had to scream and yell at the idiot for leaving you yet again.

The sound of the front door shutting was enough to make your body relax just enough for a few stray tears to roll down your cheeks. You were just so mad and so incredibly hurt all at once and, while you should have been used to it by now, it never got any easier watching that tall bitch of a man you’d grown to love over the years walk out for yet another date with another woman who was not yourself.

“You okay?” Billy asked, lulling his head towards you from his spot on the couch. He was the one person in the world to know your true feelings about Stu Macher and, while he’d never admit to it out loud, you knew he was oddly protective of you when it came to Stu’s idiocy, especially where his dating life was concerned.

You swallowed hard, not quite trusting your voice in fear of breaking down in front of him. So, instead, you remained silent and barely nodded. Was it hot in here or was it just you? You suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe as you sat in the dark room with Billy to your left and Stu now long gone. Deep breaths, you thought to yourself, squeezing your palms yet again. Deep, calming breaths.

You heard Billy sigh as he paused the movie. “Y/N,” he muttered, his tone careful, “how’s he going to know how you feel if you don’t actually say shit about it?”

Through the thick blanket of tears still gathering in your eyes, you focused your glare on the dark-haired man. “Fuck off,” you barked out, “like it’s that easy.”

“It is,” he shrugged. “What’s stopping you?”

“The idiot has a date every week, Billy,” you hissed, “am I supposed to show up with a bouquet of fucking roses declaring my feelings as his tongue’s down some other girls’ throat?” With your emotions at an all-time high, you stood up from the chair and raised a shaky hand to anxiously toy with your hair. “I mean does he have to parade his shit around here the way he does? It drives me nuts.”

Billy remained quiet and still as he watched you pace in front of the tv. He’d seen this frenzied look on your face only once before, but he knew what was coming next. It wasn’t often that you let your feelings finally bubble over to the brink of explosion, but if your current state was any indication, he was about to witness a breakdown.

Standing up to his full height, Billy quietly walked towards you and placed his hands on either shoulder, holding you in place as his brown eyes searched your own watery gaze. “Hey,” he cooed, brow puckered. “Stu’s a fucking idiot if he doesn’t see what’s in front of him.”

You chewed on your lip in an attempt to contain the sob desperately clawing its way up your throat. “I can’t watch him do it anymore, Bill,” you finally said, barely above a whisper. “It just hurts too much.”

It wasn’t often you were met with the soft side of Billy Loomis, but you cherished those moments – though so far and few between – each and every time. With a sigh, Billy wrapped his arms around your shoulders and tugged you close. He said nothing, though, because what could he say? Stu was a fucking moron when it came to you, he knew as much, but uttering those words at a time like this would only hurt you more.

You sniffed, your tears bleeding into the cotton of his white t-shirt. “I swear he—”

“Wow,” Stu’s voice rang out into the silence of the room. Snapping your head towards his sudden appearance, you froze in Billy’s arms, terrified of just how much he’d heard. At first, he seemed to just stand there for a second, staring at the two of you wrapped up in each other’s arms with a resigned, almost defeated look in his blue eyes. But all at once, in typical Stu fashion, that serious undertone slowly morphed into an almost amused sneer. “You two move fast, huh? Guess I should’ve grabbed those condoms.”

You rolled your eyes, barely hearing Billy’s sly comeback as you gently pushed him away. That heaviness in your chest that had made you cry only seconds prior was now a raging fire inside of your chest. The audacity this big, dumb, ass of a man had.

“Hilarious, Stu,” you griped, sniffing as you walked back to your chair. “Forever the comedian.”

“Hey,” he held his hands up in surrender. “No shame in it, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t interrupt shit,” Billy said. “And you know it.”

“What are you even doing back?” You snapped, glowering across at the idiot. “Or did you get bored of this one already?” You made a show of looking down at your watch-less wrist. “Five whole minutes, that’s got to be a new record.”

Stu pretended to laugh. “I forgot my wallet, ice queen,” he grabbed his wallet off of the table but continued to glare down at you. “What’s your problem tonight, anyway? You’ve got a stick shoved so far up your ass it’s practically coming out of your—”

��I wouldn’t go there,” Billy warned, flicking the play button on the remote. “Stop while you’re ahead.”

Stu barely glanced at him. “Nah, Billy,” he shrugged and took a seat on the edge of the couch closest to where you sat. “I’m curious. Can’t a guy be curious as to why a broad suddenly decides to give you the cold shoulder?”

“I warned you,” Billy merely shrugged.

“A broad?” You growled. “Get fucked, Macher.”

“What is your issue?” Stu reiterated. “I’m serious. You’ve been acting like a—”

“I’m not getting into this with you.” Pushing yourself off of the chair, you stormed passed both men towards the front door. “Enjoy your date, dipshit.”

Stu watched you go in utter confusion but before he could get up to follow you and continue this entire fiasco, Billy smacked him upside the head. “Leave her be, idiot,” he merely said, not tearing his eyes away from The Exorcist. “Let her cool off.”

“Cool off?” Stu asked with a furrowed brow. “Cool off from what? You two got that heated that fast that she stormed out because I came back inside?”

A long, deep, heavy sigh escaped Billy’s lips as he – yet again – had to pause the movie. His eye twitched in irritation as he surveyed the almost dopey look on Stu’s face. “I just want to watch this damned movie and it’s like a fucking soap opera with you two.”

Stu blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“You seriously don’t know, do you?” When all he received was a blank stare from his friend, Billy pinched the bridge of his nose and swore under his breath. “You’re even dumber than you look, you know that?”

»»————-¤————-««

It was a few hours later when there was a casual knock at your front door. Your parents were gone for the night and, as you glanced at the time, your stomach gave a nervous twist. It was nearing midnight and, while it was a Friday and you were by no means tired, just who would be knocking at your door this late at night eluded you.

Debating on whether or not to answer, you remained firmly situated on your couch as you eyed the front door in disdain. Maybe if you waited long enough, they’d move onto the next house and your life could be spared for another night. But, before you could get too much hope on the matter, another loud knock erupted from the door. This time, however, followed by an all too familiar voice.

“Hey dipshit,” Stu’s muffled voice rang out, “open up.”

“The fuck?” You whispered in confusion before making your way to the front door. Sure enough, as you unfastened the lock, there he stood. Stu Macher in all his glory. His eyes were somewhat wild as he silently stood on your front porch, soaking you in from all angles as his Adams apple bobbed up and down in his throat. For the first time in…well, ever, it appeared Stu was at a loss for words.

“Stu, what the hell?” You asked. “My parents could have been home do you know how late it is?”

“Yeah,” he simply said, not moving an inch from where he stood. “But this couldn’t wait.”

You blinked. “What couldn’t wait?” You asked, glancing over his shoulder to see if this was some weird prank that he and Billy thought up. “Come inside, you’re freaking me out.”

“I—” His words seemed to die on his tongue. “I just need to know if it’s true.”

You frowned. “If what’s true?” You racked your brain for a possible answer but came up empty. “Did something come up on your date or something? If it’s about that rumour with me and Matt Sewinski, I promise you that’s not true. The guy’s a creep.”

Stu shook his head but his eyes remained glued to your face, unblinking. “No,” he simply said, “and I didn’t end up going out with Heather.”

You wrinkled your nose. “I thought it was Sarah tonight?”

Stu shut his eyes in sheer annoyance. “Heather, Sarah, whoever the fuck it was,” he opened those blue eyes open again and the raw intensity inside of them made you take a small step back. “I didn’t go.”

You swallowed hard and suddenly felt a wave of nausea overcome you. “Why?” You gulped out.

Stu licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair. He was yet to step foot inside your house and between the maniacal look in his eye and the chilled breeze seeping in through the open door, you shivered absentmindedly. “I talked to Billy.”

Four words. Four tiny little words was all it took to make the room around you spin on its axis. A cold sweat broke out across your chest as you averted your eyes to the wall directly beside his head. Maybe if you didn’t quite look him in the face, you could get out of what was about to become an incredible awkward, painful situation. With your breath trembling, you swallowed again and tried to find your voice. “About what?”

Stu cocked his head to the side. “Y/N,” he warned, “cut the shit.”

Another painful gulp. Your throat felt like it was closing in on you as you stood there facing the boy you’d been in love with for as long as you could remember. You’d often dreamt of this day, the day where he’d finally realize your feelings only to have them reciprocated fully – but when you’d pictured it, Stu looked a lot less crazy than he did looking back at you now. But, even still, there was a glimmer of emotion shining brightly behind those blue eyes that made your breath hitch in your throat.

It made you nervous.

Worse, it made you hopeful.

“Stu,” you tried to find some conviction in your tone, but your nerves got the better of you. “Can you just get inside first? You’re scaring me.” Despite feeling as though you were going to faint, you managed to reach across the divide to yank him inside of your house. Locking the door behind you, you took a few even breaths before turning back around to face him. “What did Billy say?”

Stu ignored your question as he began to pace around your hallway. He was this tall, broad, string bean of a man on a regular day, but the mass of him tonight was all encompassing as he governed your foyer. “Seven years,” he began, his voice slightly shaky. “We’ve known each other for seven fucking years, Y/N. And I’ve hung on your every fucking word for all of six years, eight months and a handful of days, give or take.” He turned on his heel rather abruptly to face you. “But you liked Billy.”

You opened your mouth to respond to the first half of his statement before realization dawned on you. Grimacing, you shook your head. “Billy? He’s like my brother, where the hell did that come from?”

“You act like he hung the fucking moon, Y/N!” He exclaimed, emphatically. “What was I supposed to think?”

“What?” You shook your head in sheer confusion. “Okay, one thing at a time. Billy is one of my best friends. So are you. What’s the problem here?”

“The probl—?” Stu laughed. “The problem? For seven fucking years you’ve been the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of before I go to sleep. And literally every fucking second in between. And this whole goddamn time, I thought you were in love with Billy.”

You were reeling. You weren’t entirely sure if your heart was beating as loud as it appeared to be, but you were sure he could hear it from where he stood a few feet away. “I—” You tried to form a sentence – any sentence – but nothing seemed to suffice. “But the dates?” Were the only words that seemed to spill from your lips. “You were dating – are dating – constantly.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, “wonder why.”

You weren’t sure when you’d done it or just how your legs managed to carry you back into the living room, but you found yourself falling against the arm of the couch in an almost dream-like state. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m not trying to say anything,” Stu fussed. “I want to know if what Billy told me was true.” He walked up to you and searched your face. “Do you love me?”

You didn’t answer at first. You couldn’t. Not when it felt as though your lungs were about to explode in your chest. You must have opened your mouth a dozen times over, each time with the promise of a formative sentence, but nothing seemed to suffice.

Suddenly Stu’s hands were on you. Squeezing your thighs with those large hands, he demanded your focus as he swooped down and caught your eye. “I need you to answer me, doll.”

You were so focused in on the overwhelmingly glorious feeling of his hands on your thighs that you forgot to answer. Hell, you forgot to breathe. It wasn’t until you slowly managed to tear your eyes away from his hands to trail up the rest of his body towards that striking face of his, that you found your words.

“You came to my house at midnight. You’ve been the one going on dates like it’s a part time job. You’re the one claiming to have been hanging on my every word for the better half of our friendship so, no, Stu, I’m not saying a fucking word until you tell me what it is that brought you here this late?” You pushed his hands off of your thighs and stood up. “All I’ve done this entire time is sit idly by and watch you carry on like Heffner at the Playboy Mansion. You want me to answer you? Not until I get a—”

Your answer came in the form of a kiss.

On instinct, your hands tangled through his hair as his tongue slid along your bottom lip. He might have been on your shit list at the moment, but fuck he was a good kisser. You’d been thinking about this very moment for as long as you could remember. Longer, even, and god was it everything you thought it would be and more.

His hands were on your face at first, cradling it gently as he backed you into the sofa, and then they were on your neck, holding you close as his tongue massaged against your own. Shivering beneath his touch, you instinctively leaned into his broad chest as the pair of you continue to stand there, kissing like your lives depended on it.

“Stu,” you mumbled against his lips. “What are we doing?”

“Kissing” he rasped out before finding your lips yet again. “Bed or couch?”

Every red flag in your head was going off to stop this and properly talk about what was not so subtly insinuated only seconds prior, but he just felt so good and you’d wanted this so so long. “Bed,” you told him breathlessly, without a second thought.

Stu wasted no time in leading you towards your bedroom, kissing his way down your neck as you stumbled down the narrow hallway. Obviously losing his patience about halfway through, he pushed you up against the wall and trailed sloppy kisses down your jaw and neck. “I love you, if that wasn’t obvious.” He breathed out. “Like, a lot.”

His words struck you blind. Ever the dutiful distraction, however, Stu’s hand trailed down your sweatshirt before settling on the waistband of your pajama shorts. Your body reacted to the promise of his hand. Arching into him, you bit your lip and sighed in contentment as his fingers slipped beneath the band. You were already soaked. Your body responded to the man in a way you couldn’t begin to comprehend, and you weren’t sure you wanted to. And as his middle finger slid into your folds, instantly finding your clit, a soft moan escaped your lips.

“Is this the horny part of your brain talking?” You growled, tugging at the ends of his hair so that you had full access to his lips. “Or are you serious?”

“So fucking serious.” He hummed into your mouth. He pinched your clit, garnering a rather surprised hiss to escape from your lips as your entire body lurched forward. Hearing him chuckle, you popped an eye and began to pull his shirt over his head. When you tossed it across the hallway, his eyes met yours. “Do you love me?”

“Yeah, but I have bone to pick with you first,” you chided, doing your best to control your breathing as he quickened his pace on your clit.

He ducked his head down to bite your lip. “Unless it’s this bone,” he ground his hips into you, and you could feel his rock-hard erection even through his jeans. “It can wait.”

You laughed before you could think of stopping yourself. “Jesus Christ, you’re disgusting.”

He was smirking across at you. “You love it.”

Still grinning, you rolled your eyes before your lips took refuge on his neck. Which, as it turned out, was a massive turn-on for Stu Macher. Running your tongue along it and nipping at the sensitive flesh, was getting him incredibly riled up if the bulge in his jeans was any indication. Biting down on the sensitive flesh, the groan it drew out of his mouth was enough to make your already wet pussy clench around his fingers.

“Fuck,” he drew out, sliding the finger that had been assaulting your clit only seconds prior inside of you.

You let out a small moan of your own as you hurriedly got to work on his belt. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you just tell me how you felt?” When you’d managed to practically rip it off of his waist, you wasted no time in unzipping his jeans. His cock sprung free within seconds.

“I thought you liked Billy,” he rasped out gruffly as you began to pump his cock with your hand. “What was I supposed to do?”

You wiggled free from the hand currently down your shorts and dropped to your knees. Looking up at him through your thick eyelashes, you raised your brow. “You could have asked me?” You reminded him, swirling your tongue around the tip of that perfectly girthy cock. The man might have been a pain in the ass but good god he had the assets to make up for it.

Stu braced himself against the wall behind you and threw his head back. Fuck, you were lethal with that mouth of yours. “Hindsight,” he breathed out.

You released his cock with a pop. “You’re an idiot.” Was all you said before getting back to work. With your hand, you circled the base of his dick and took the length of him inside your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip each time you made your way back up.

He grabbed your hair and gave it a firm pull. “Fuck,” he growled. “Keep going.”

You hummed against his dick, digging your nails into his thigh briefly before looking back up at him. “Or what?” He allowed his forehead to fall against his forearm currently stabilizing him against the wall. You knew you were driving him crazy, but he’d done the same thing to you for the last seven years and you were nothing if not a petty bitch when you wanted to be. “Say it again.”

He furrowed his brow. “Say what?” Realization dawned on him. “Fuck, baby, you keep doing that I’ll put a ring on your finger tomorrow.” Stu’s blue eyes were hungrily taking you in. How you’d managed to stay fully dressed as he stood there with his jeans around his ankles and his cock out was beyond him but, sure enough, that was his reality. “I love you. A lot.”

You dug your nails into his thigh again, and slowly licked up the base of his cock. “Hmm,” you hummed with a nod of your head, releasing it to stand up to your full height. His eyes were pleading with you to finish him off, but as you slinked up the wall and mirrored his hungry gaze, he surprised you by sliding his calloused hand up the side of your neck until it cupped your cheek. You were practically nose-to-nose as he slowly pinned you against the wall and, as he leaned forward and nudged your nose with his, a slow, lazy grin broke out across your face. “I love you, too.”

Slowly, you leaned in and kissed him. Unlike the deliberate make-out session you’d had minutes prior, this kiss was slow and methodical. When you pulled away, you kissed the tip of his nose and nodded towards your bedroom. “Get on the bed.”

Stu’s eyebrows shot up in amusement. “Pushy.”

You gave his dick a tug. “Go.”

He swooped in again and kissed you before haphazardly kicking off his shoes and jeans, punting them across the hallway as he backed you into your bedroom. When you were close enough to your bed, he broke the kiss to peel off your sweatshirt. Throwing it across the room, his hands were back on you within seconds, kneading and massaging your breasts before taking one in his mouth. Expertly, his tongue ran along your nipple before he began to suck and nip at them. Arching into his mouth, you fisted a handful of his hair and groaned as he pulled you in even closer.

“Stu,” you moaned, shutting your eyes momentarily as you allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling of his mouth on your tits. The man truly was a god with his tongue.

But you had a trick up your sleeve. A little payback, if you will. And this, melting into his mouth, was not part of the plan.

Hating yourself, you pushed him away. The back of his knees hit your bed and you watched as he fell back onto the soft mattress with a slight bounce. There was confusion in his stare as he sat there ogling you. “Get over here,” he beckoned, voice low.

Slowly, you shimmied out of your pajama shorts, feeling his eyes on you every step of the way as you stepped out of them and walked towards the bed. Towards him. Sitting himself up, he opened his legs so you could step between them. His hands were slow as they trailed up and down your thighs, hips, and waist before sliding around to your ass. Squeezing and pulling at your cheeks, he pulled you closer and placed a tender kiss to your sternum before craning his neck up to peer up at you.

“I always knew you had a thing for my ass.” You raked your fingers through his hair, pushing it back and away from his forehead as you grinned down at him.

His answer came in the form of another firm squeeze of your ass only rather than stop there, he tugged you closer until you were tumbling onto his lap. You gripped his shoulders as you straddled his lap, subtly grinding your hips so his erection settled between the folds of your pussy, rubbing against your clit.

“Lay down on your stomach,” he uttered. When he noticed your apprehension, he raised a single eyebrow up at you and squeezed again. “Do you trust me?”

You nodded mutely and did as you were told. And, before you knew it, you were sliding off of his lap to lay stomach-down on your bed. You felt the bed shift as Stu crawled towards you but before you could question him on it, you felt his hands slide beneath your hips to pull you up so that your ass was raised in the air.

“What are you—”

Your words died in your throat as you felt his tongue glide along your pussy. Gasping, you nearly buckled forward, but caught yourself on your pillow. You were face down, buried in the comforter and pillows of your bed, but with your hips bent at the level Stu had moved them into, he had full access to both your pussy and your ass. You could feel his fingers kneading into your ass as his lapped up your every fold until settling on your clit. You groaned and buried your face into the pillow as he began to suck your clit. You could hear how wet you were as his mouth imbibed every inch of your pussy.

His name tore out of your throat and your knuckles whitened as you gripped the bedsheets. The veins in your neck swelled with every laboured breath you managed to draw and you found yourself bucking into his mouth as an orgasm rippled through your body. You moaned and groaned and cursed into the bed but Stu’s mouth was relentless. And as he pinched your clit all the while still lapping you up, you all but collapsed. When he was sure you couldn’t take another second of torture, he pulled away and allowed you to collapse onto the bed. Your cheeks were flushed, and your lips were parted as you attempted to catch your breath. With a quiet chuckle, he kissed his way up your spine, grinning against your skin as your legs continued to twitch.

“Can I?” He asked, his cock at the ready.

Nodding, you gasped when you felt him slide inside of you. He bit down on your shoulder as he thrust into you and his quiet moans and unsteady breath was enough to kill you. “Fuck,” he whispered. “You feel so fucking good.”

This was a high unlike any other for Stu. Watching his cock slam into you, watching your ass slap against him with every wild thrust and pump he provided and feeling just how fucking wet you were for him – this was the unattainable high. You were the unattainable high.

He reached around to play with your clit again. He could feel it throbbing between his fingers and, feeling you tremble made him weak. Quickening his pace on your clit and steadying his thrusting to ensure you finished again, Stu bit down on your earlobe. “Come for me, baby.”

Your answer came in the form of another thick, guttural moan as you came undone yet again. He watched you quiver and shake and the vision of it was enough for him to quicken his thrusts. Groaning, his hands fell from your clit to hold your hips as he pounded into you. The sound of your cheeks slapping against him was drawing him closer and closer to one hell of an orgasm and as you let out one last breathy moan, his whole body seemed to erupt in fire.

His breathing was heavy as he came inside of you and the more sensitive his cock got with every thrust, his pace slowed. For a moment, neither of you moved. Instead, he allowed his forehead to fall back against your shoulder before he slowly pulled out.

“If I’d have known that’s what I was missing, we should have had this talk a lot sooner.” You teased, earning a playful smack to your ass from the man. Grinning, you flopped back onto the pillow and stared up at him. He was leaning on one arm as those blue eyes scraped over every inch of your face. You could see the words he wanted to say splayed out across his face and found yourself reaching up to brush his hair back and away from his sweaty forehead.

“Right back at ya,” you smiled.

Fuck, you really were in love with the idiot.

#matthew lillard #stu scream #stu macher #ghostface #scream stu #Stu Macher x reader #Stu Macher x fem!reader #Stu Macher x you #slashers x reader #scream #scream 1996 #scream film #scream movie #billy loomis #Billy Loomis x reader #Ghostface x you #Ghostface x reader #scream x reader

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polyghostfacehours · 3 years

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Your blog is great! Can I please get just some general Billy and Stu headcanons? Maybe stuff about their childhoods or likes and stuff. literally all of your headcanons are my canons, I live for them bestie UwU

DON'T MAKE ME CRY ANON. Thank you so much for the kind words! Did some head canons on their home life for ya under the cut!

Billy:

Billy's father, Hank, sucks ass. He barely interacts with Billy unless it's to scold him. He felt it was the woman's job to handle the child in near all aspects of parenting. His job as a lawyer kept him busy and out of the house, and when he wasn't at work he was at the bar with coworkers. After Mrs. Loomis left, he became even more distant.

Mrs. Loomis smothered Billy. Because she was a housewife and Hank was never home, she latched on to Billy out of loneliness. She ardently defended him, effectively becoming his yes man, and was often the only one he could turn to. It's why Billy was so attached to her. She was also neurotic, and often on and off meds.

Billy's social standing is high, but strange. On one hand, he's handsome, mysterious, and confident. On the other, he was never the jock or the delinquent. So he wasn't popular in the traditional sense, he was popular because he radiated sheer confidence and never let anyone mess with him. He was never bullied, and if anything was the bully if he felt someone deserved it.

Unsurprising, but Billy has absolutely no fashion sense. He has multiple white T shirts, jeans in all shades of denim, a couple of dark jackets, a polo here and there, a pair of boots and a pair of sneakers.

Billy never had a pet. He always wanted a dog when he was younger, but his father never allowed it. And Mrs. Loomis herself didn't try and convince him otherwise since she felt Billy didn't need a dog when he had her.

Billy didn't have many close friends growing up, or at least none that weren't surface level. It's not like he didn't have any, just none that he would consider even close to Stu and later Y/N's level.

Despite this, he always had an affinity for talking to people and getting what he wanted. It's just a trait he seemed to naturally have. Maybe it runs in the family, since, as a lawyer, his dad had a way with words as well. It's because of this this that he never had a problem with interacting with people, even if he is more solitary by nature.

Stu:

Stu's parents are real estate moguls. Both of them. It's how they met. They have properties all around the West coast, as well as some East in Florida, New York, and New Jersey. They moved to Woodsboro when Stu entered 7th grade, and the house there is their 'home base' so to speak. If they were ever there that is lol.

The house Stu lives in is actually one of the most modest ones they own in terms of the house's square footage. They mainly bought it for the large plots of farmland it comes with, as they figured it's value would only go up over time.

Stu was mainly raised through nannies. His parents largely parented with their money, and Stu's "allowance" was always way more exorbitant than anything a kid should have.

Stu's parents, unlike Billy's, do genuinely think they love their son. It's why they spoil him and let him do whst he wants. However, they never thought he was too bright, so they never expected much from him. Which is a shame, because Stu is actually a pretty intelligent guy. They just don't know it since they're never around much, they just look at his grades and school suspensions and go by that.

They do want Stu set for life, and have a hefty trust fund for him as well as a cushy spot in their business for when he's ready. Under his sister ofc.

Stu was often forced to go on business trips and banquets with his parents. He actually really liked them, as long as they didnt interfere with plans he may have had. He loves the buffets and traveling is fun to him. He's much less of a fan now that he has you and Billy though, as he prefers to be with you guys instead.

#billy loomis #ghostface #stu macher #poly ghostface #poly!ghostface #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #billy x reader x stu #ghostface x reader #billy loomis headcanons #stu macher headcanons

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timextoxhajima · 3 years

Text

The Boyz as things and feelings (just cause)

this is a small thing @haechanhues needed help with so i decided to make it an actual post uwu [this is gonna be pretty long cause i might write little scenarios]

[THE BOYZ AS THINGS AND FEELINGS]

SANGYEON - MIRRORS AND PILLOWS

mirrors make a place look bigger than it really is - i feel like sangyeon has that ability to make you feel like you’re more important on your worst days

the things he’ll do just to make sure you’re alright, even when he knows you’re not

he also has the ability to reflect what you need: sad? he’ll come and hug you and let you cry or talk about your shitty day. happy? he’ll joke about the way you snort while laughing then he’d probably do something dumb to keep the energy up there

mirrors also feel very private and at-home, and that exactly how i feel he curates an environment

pillows are self-explanatory ig, smth to cry into, smth to fall asleep with while hugging, has the best homely scents ever, very comfortable

i imagine going home after a long day and finding your partner also tired, but he’s cooking or like in the couch watching tv and he just invites you into his arms uwu

“tell me about everything! whatever that makes you happy or sad and i’ll try my best to be who you need at that point of time!”

JACOB - FLOWERS AND MUSIC

ok like jacob with a guitar is just a stellar sight to behold, he looks like he was born to hold one, and his vocals are super underrated imo, most of tbz’s discography doesnt really suit his voice - i really wish he had a chance to have more lines in more ballads or maybe even a solo thing

he would drag you out to go on walks after he knows you’ve buried yourself in your work the whole day, and he’d be the kind to stop at a pretty flower and contemplate plucking it but he wouldn’t cause he’s a fairy and wouldn’t hurt a fly, much less a pretty flower

would probably play a piece in the background while you’re stressed w work and hum a tune so the singing wouldn’t distract you

would stop when he notices you stopped working and your sad ass is probably crying lmao

he’s a very soft and gentle man imo

he’s the innocent daisy amidst other bright colored, flamboyant flowers but he still stands out

“i’ll grow you a rose bush in the yard so i don’t have to be sad about plucking flowers next time.”

YOUNGHOON - WINTER COATS AND COFFEE AND PASTRIES

he definitely radiates tsundere vibes on first sight, but when you get to know him, he’s obviously the opposite: a crybaby

but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t keep up his model-like appearances when he’s outside - in fact, he’d be the one to influence you into caring more about how you look (of course not materialistically, but more into actually caring about making yourself feel good with your fashion and appearance)

i chose winter coats as a symbol of coverage - he doesn’t show much of himself unless he’s close to you (like when you wear winter coats to keep warm, he’s a burrito because he doesn’t bother too much about sharing his feelings), but when he does, it feels like he has the ability to keep you warm and comfortable, even on the coldest days, even if his inner savage comes out

it’ll be like he scooped you into his coat and has you warm in one of this inner breast pockets

i see him as the kind to get regular coffee and like, a tart or something, at a cafe. it adds on to the warmth, when he remembers what you like. the details. maybe you like your coffee with cinnamon or less sugar or something, but then he tops it up with a muffin and he knows you like it heated up so he specifically asks for them to do so

ok but he’s defo the kind of guy that catches people’s attention at public spaces so every now and then when he’s laughing or smiling, some girl would gawk at him and he would be embarrassed about it, but lucky for you, you’re already wearing matching coats so they know the man’s taken uwu

“if only they knew how long it took to convince you to wear that coat.”

HYUNJAE - CONCERTS AND CONVENIENCE STORE DATES

classy but calm. dream-like but realistic.

i say concerts as in the instrumental, ballad kinds. he loves it and he knows you probably need the sleep where you have that kind of background white noise/music that provides you the best quality of sleep there is. but when you’re not dosing off, he’s admiring how much time you’re willing to invest into being at something he loves

of course, in turn, he doesn’t complain much when you’re hungry and you meet him down the street at the nearest convenience store for some instant noodles and potato chips with a coke and he lets you ramble about your day

he would probably buy you an ice cream just so you’d feel better, then regret it when you get a stomachache later cause it was like 2am in the morning

you probably have like 5 of his hoodies at home that you refuse to wash cause his scent is tainted all over it and the only time he gets to take them home is when he stays over or visits and he sneaks one into his bag when you’re in the kitchen making tea or a bowl of noodles

then you’ll get it back without even knowing it was gone

the kind that would probably surprise you after a day of work with a casual date idea to the movies, and i mean showing up at your place, impromptu, after he knows you’re home with two tickets

“act like my girlfriend for once and go on a date with me, would you? your work isn’t going to be there with you when you die at 90.”

JUYEON - STARGAZING AND VR GAMES

as dumb and sometimes bimbotic as he seems he is, he’s gotten most of the visible constellations memorised and he would not hesitate from telling you all about his childhood with his family when they would travel and try to spot every single constellation they can remember

which brings me to the point where he remembers what you like, but... backhandedly. he doesn’t remember what you like but he remembers what you hate instead, so you don’t ever have to worry about getting that licorice flavoured jelly bean

he would offer a midnight walk to help you relieve your stress, cause he knows you just like seeing the nightsky amidst the peace and quiet while he rambles on for his own satisfaction. not everything has to be so emotionally attached and shared. you can share blissful moments without being the reason for each other’s and that’s totally fine.

juyeon is kind of a scaredy cat in the sense that he isn’t really into horror movies or games but he’s always had that dream to become a pilot and so for his birthday, you brought him to a vr game arcade where he played some plane simulator and ever since, you’ve been taking turns to surprise each other with a new vr arcade spot or adding on to the vr game console set you have at home

“maybe i should digitalise you so i can see you in the vr game”

KEVIN - KARAOKE SESSIONS AND NEON LIGHTS

the best-friend kind of partner you would come across once in a lifetime

a billion film shots of you after he drags you to the karaoke and he beats you at super intense songs like the bohemian rhapsody just cause he can hit those high notes and solely because he was screaming on the floor when he did it

almost left his film camera behind

absolutely LOVES those walks along streets where there are a million neon lights

would come across that one sus neon light signs that indicate a sex toy store and he would give you that sly smile and probably joke for you to go in

kevin has a moon neon light in his room and you have a star or something (whatever you want)

corrects your grammar and pronunciation, only for you two to bicker about it even more when you use google translation and there are different pronunciations depending on where/what accent you’re using

he really is your light in the dark, even if he’s known to be introverted. once he’s comfortable enough with you, he makes you feel like the most important person in the world

has one of those portable speaker microphones at home and he drones on and on and on with some billie eilish song until you hurl a pillow at him

“so you’re the tough girl, like it really rough girl, justcan’tgetenoughofkevingirl, chest always so puffed girl”

CHANHEE - DUETS AND STRAWBERRY PICKING

(i could not find a more candid, softer aesthetic pic for chanhee rip)

his entire wardrobe fits you - the only problem is that he’ll never let you wear it in fear that you’d stain or tear something

shared playlists because that’s how similar your taste in music is, and so sometimes when you have your earpiece in and you’re humming the melody of that song, chanhee picks it up immediately despite not hearing that song, and ends up harmonising with you

got kicked out of the library once or twice because it was exam period and the two of you won’t shut up

ironically doesn’t sing that much if you’re not around

chanhee is a true blue introvert - which is a miracle that you’ve managed to tear through that barrier of his and find out that he giggles at every stupid thing you do: he’s having a bad day? trip over the pavement. he’ll laugh. it works

dragging him out to go strawberry picking was so difficult - but of course chanhee isn’t safe from how beautiful and enticing the fresh fruits were.

didn’t touch anything strawberry flavoured OR any strawberries for the next month or so

his straightforwardness comes with the breakdown of his barrier - but that’s what brings you comfort. he will never lie, he will only be sarcastic and even then, you’d know it’s true

i used duets as a symbol of harmony and being in-sync, though never really exactly the same, and that’s how it is with chanhee. your thoughts are very similar even though he’s much more introverted than you, but that’s what binds you

“i’m gonna tell the librarian i don’t know you if we get kicked out again.”

CHANGMIN - CITY TOURS AND MATCHING OUTFITS

city tours - the kind that you already know inside out and yet you STILL travel the area as if you were a tourist

that’s exactly how it is with changmin: you know him inside out, after being friends for so long, but it never gets old

you’re used to him biting your hand out of nowhere and yet it startles you all the time. that stupid chucky doll in his living room? old, but it never fails to scare you

he doesn’t ever talk about it that much, but he loves it when you co-ordinate outfits

no, it doesn’t mean you wear couple tees, but it’s aesthetically pleasing to changmin that if he wears cool tones, you would too

he’d be reserved about his thoughts and feelings sometimes but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think or feel them

there’s a strange sense of familiarity with changmin, because you kind of know what to expect but then you’re never disappointed, you know?

“i got you this white pigeon cause it looks like the one i already got... you can give it back to me if you don’t like it though-” /he takes it before you can accept it/

HAKNYEON - STAND UP COMEDY SHOWS AND RUNNING ALONG THE BEACH

there’s something about ju that makes it very casual and easy-going

he hates horror genred themes so fuck that, he would queue online just for the latest ali wong comedy show, even if it’s an online show, and he would laugh until he cried

sometimes he’s a drama queen but that makes it alot easier for you to know what he’s thinking or feeling - it makes communication alot easier

that means a lack of arguments

he’s also very empathetic but straightforward, exactly like how comedy shows are - because they are relatable, they are funny because they bring out the irony and sarcasm and all the dumb things in life that people are sometimes afraid of talking about and hak just says whatever he wants to say, even if he knows it might be hurtful or upsetting

he prioritises truth and honesty over anything else

it makes you a better person, honestly

beach walks - very calming, very liberating. he lets you yell and scream and kick sand back into the water because you can, and he does it with you

tries to teach you how to skip rocks but you suck and you can’t so he just pulls you away from the pile of rocks you amassed

“flick your wrist like that, not like you’re meowing!”

SUNWOO - SOCCER FRIENDLIES AND STUDIO SESSIONS

he will NOT go easy on you in a friendly match: you might be one of the fastest players of the female team but he’s ruthless in his ball-stealing, so even if you were fast enough to keep the ball out of his reach, he’d still be able to snatch it right out between your feet

very, very competitive and does not like to lose

you would always play the ‘ladies first’ card but then he’d throw the ‘feminism’ card back at you

sometimes you act more like siblings than anything else

the only time when he isn’t fuming with competition is if you’re injured because he accidentally tackled you - he’ll gracefully give himself a yellow card before absolutely trashing you in the next match

has one foot into the production game recently - likes to play with the beat board and mixing tunes, and since you’ve had your hand in doing music remixes for a deejay job before, you’re there to identify which songs have the same bass line or beat counts for easier mixing

would make you a playlist of remixes but wouldn’t admit that he spent a whole day in the studio without you just so it would be a surprise

a soft boy stuck in the wraps of an egoistic man

“a day? please. i illegally downloaded half these remixes off the internet cause i’d think you’re too internet-dumb to find them.”

ERIC - BAKING AND SKATEBOARDING

full of impromptu, casual ideas to hang out

baking is a fucking mess - why did he suggest it when he doesn’t even have the right ingredients?

wanted to replace eggs with water - like ok thats supposedly healthier, but why????????????

he likes cleaning so that was the only fucking bonus in baking - had to call his mom for help halfway through because the cookies looked more like goop than playdough

gave up in the end and he repaid his debt by helping clean your kitchen

tried to teach you how to skateboard, but he ended up falling off his own in the process and now he’s got a grazed knee

the kind of person you’d have so much chaotic fun with, he’s that friend your mom told you to NOT hang out with that much if not you’d get run down by a car

has the most fucking random pieces of clothing in his wardrobe, like where did he even get that pink coat from?

“no you have to do this and like lift up your leg and then kinda rest your weight on it before flicking your ankle and like- whOA- OH OW OHNO OHOHOH OW”

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ithehellisbucky · 3 years

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Waking Up In Vegas

spencer reid x reader

request: prompts 87 (boop), 88 (that's such a bad idea- lets do it), 89 (Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool), 96 (I'm not crying, you are.) by anon

word count: 1.7k

warnings: Mentions of drug addiction, heavy drinking and blackout, that's it.

author's note: I've had this in my inbox for months, and I'm so sorry I didn't finish it sooner. Also, what do you want to see from my blog, it seems like I only post once a week for my fics and that's a no go from me.

~~~

The light was too loud- that's a wonderful thing to think when you remember nothing of the night before. You groaned and sat up, seeing that you were in a large bed with white covers. You scratched your head and looked around, noticing that the bedboard behind you was a large pink heart.

Looking down you realize that you're wearing a sequined red bikini top and a skirt scarf combo with booty shorts underneath. Drunk you does not have good fashion sense.

Before you can notice anything else, you start to feel puke crawling up your throat and you immediately run and vomit all your guts up.

You rinse your mouth out and notice that the blanket mound you left has shifted, and you become wary and pick up a heavy brass candlestick.

And then the lump rolls over, and it's your goddamn coworker.

"Reid?"

He startles and wakes up, staring at you and then glancing down at himself- huh, there was something wrong about that picture, but you couldn't figure out what it was just yet.

"y/n? What are you doing in my hotel room?" He pauses, looks around, then mutters under his breath "this isn't my hotel room."

He looks up at you "Since when are you married?"

"I'm not," You look down at your hand, noticing a giant red ruby adorning your ring finger "I am."

You look down at his hand and notice that he is too, "And so are you."

You and Spencer look around your room, both badly masking paranoia and panic. Both of your eyes stop when you notice a picture frame in the corner- a wedding certificate.

"Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool. This is fine, no big deal, just a marriage certificate," You move over and pick it up "with both of our names on it."

"Okay, this is okay, this is fine," Spencer says, sitting back down on the bed stunned.

"So, we're married, which is a thing that happened, last night, that you definitely remember." You say, sitting down next to your newly revealed husband.

"I don't remember."

"How do you not remember? You have super memory powers!"

"This is an excellent first fight to have as a married couple, of course, you blame me." He says, standing up and shrugging.

You meet his stance "Of course I blame you! You're the smart one!"

"Oh, well Agent, I wasn't aware that you had an IQ of 25!" He pauses "25 is the number associated by Henry H. Goodard to be an idiot, it's actually-"

"I know!" You exclaim, seething with half-hearted rage.

"You know, your the one who got an addict drunk!"

"Your vice isn't alcohol! If I drugged you I'd be a monster! You ordered that first bloody mary all by yourself, and those shots we did were totally consensual!!!"

He looked up at you "you remember that?"

You think, and notice memories that you didn't know were there, "um, yeah, bits and pieces."

From the expression he makes, he looks to be remembered more too. You and your new husband sit down and let it all hit you.

~~~

"4 tequila shots please." You wave down the bartender.

You're already buzzed, but you and Spencer were just getting warmed up. Morgan and Garcia left hours ago to go to a fancy restaurant, Rossi was planted firmly at the poker table, Hotch was nowhere to be seen, JJ had gone home to be with Henry, and Emily was at a "sin to win" night at some casino that you already knew too much about just by hearing the name.

So that leaves you and Spencer at the bar in the only casino in town he wasn't banned from.

At first, you were concerned about him drinking, but once he reassured that alcohol isn't his way of self-medicating, you were okay. Besides, if you saw any red flags, you would throw his ass in rehab faster than you can say 'gin'.

So, you were 5 drinks in and having the time of your lives, showing off battle scars and laughing. God, his eyes were pretty.

"Your eyes are so pretty!" You giggled "like soooooo pretty, woooooooow."

He laughed and looked back at you "your skin is pretty, like in a non-serial killer way, it's really pretty."

"Thank you, just don't kill me for it."

"I just called no murder!" He whined "besides, how am I sure you won't kill me and scoop my eyes out?"

"Because that's gross." You said, rolling your eyes.

"And stealing your skin isn't?"

"You can' have my skin!" You say, mock running away.

He laughs, and looks directly into your eyes, and smiles, wow, he was pretty. Morgan was right.

"Hey, do you wanna get out of here?" Spencer asks you.

"Yeah, let's get ice cream!" You grab his hand, and it feels natural through your foggy brain.

After stumbling through the ice cream parlor, full of people who were trying to pretend like they weren't. Spencer got butter pecan, and you got sherbert and chocolate.

You stumbled out of the store, giggling to yourself and Spencer.

God, you loved him. So you told him.

"I love you." He stopped in his tracks, and you almost tripped on a bicycle rack.

"Really?" He whispers.

All of the giggles are gone.

"I love you."

The ice cream is long forgotten, his on the ground, and half of yours on your clothes and half next to his on the ground. All that's left is your faces inching closer to each other.

When your lips meet it feels like firecrackers going off inside your head.

His mouth is soft, gently contrasting with your soft lips. His tongue sneaks into your mouth, your smile around his.

"Let's get married." He pulls apart from you, out of breath.

You stay silent for a moment, before looking up and directly into his chocolate brown eyes "That is such a bad idea-"

He diverts his eyes and scratches the back of his skull "Um, yeah, that's okay, let's-"

"Let's do it."

He looks back at you, and you grab his body and kiss him.

~~~

Sometimes people can be happy, you realize as an elderly woman ties a sash around your waist.

You have to be honest, you never thought this was gonna be how you were gonna get married. Hell, you weren't sure if you were gonna get married at all. But certainly not like this. Certainly not at 1 am to your coworker 7 drinks in at a cheap roadside attraction.

Definitely not like this.

But something about this weirdness felt like the only way anything ever would've made any sense.

There was something about the outfit you were wearing that was perfect, a bright red bra covered in sequins underneath a top with buttons and poofy sleeves that showed off a lot of your chest, a wrap-around cheap white silk skirt with jeans shorts underneath. And of course purple open-toed boots. Perfect.

Marrying Spencer Reid is like a fever dream. A perfect man with perfect hair and perfect eyes. So of course you were giggling like crazy while they put the cheap crown with pink tulle serving as a veil on your head.

Your witnesses were an elderly couple, of course, you wanted to have your best friends there, but knowing them they'd try to talk you out, and believe me, there was no way you wanted out of it.

"Now's time dear," the woman exclaims, gently patting you on the shoulder and leading you out of the fitting room and towards the chapel.

The owner of the business hooks his arm around yours and leads you into the chapel, church bells from an iPod attached to a speaker ringing out into the air.

Spencer turns around the air visibly leaves his lungs when you make eye contact. The chapel you two had chosen in this drunken haze was costume-themed, and he was wearing an ancient Rome costume that fit the time where his favorite philosopher, so even though no one else noticed, you could tell he was dressed as Gaius.

His hair had been attempted to slick back, but little curls were popping up all over the place instead. He was wringing his hands tightly and bouncing his knee, god you couldn't wait to marry him.

The elderly man who had led you to the alter places you next to Spencer, you couldn't focus on anything but your soon-to-be-husband.

Spencer takes his hands and gently pulls your veil up from around your face, and a tear trickles out of his eyes as he sees you. You smile and notice his nerves, try to calm the love of your life down "boop", you gently tap his nose and he smiles in comfort.

The officiant drones on and on about love but you can't hear him, all you can focus on is his love-filled eyes.

"Do you take Spencer Reid to be your husband?"

Your eyes snap out of their daze and you say with the most certainty than you have ever said anything: "I do."

"And do you take (y/n) (y/l/n) to be your life partner for as long as you may live?"

"I do," And you feel more wanted than you ever have in your life, he wants you, Spencer wants you.

~~~

You and Spencer sit on your bed in stunned silence, neither believing that last night had really happened. You look over at your apparent husband and notice tears streaming down his face.

"You're crying." You say, your voice coming out as a chocked whisper.

"I'm not crying, you are." You look down and notice that your shirt is soaked in tears.

"Oh." You take a deep breath and look into his eyes. "So, what do you want to do?"

"Get an annulment?" He doesn't look completely happy about his answer and stares into your eyes for reassurance.

You take a deep breath and stare off into the distance, out into a world that would be so much better if you were married to Spencer Reid. "I don't want that."

You look back at him to meet his eyes, "Me neither."

"I love you, a lot, and I want to be married to you." Spencer smiles, and you feel wanted and safe and loved.

Instead of saying it back, he kissed you with a passion that was way more descriptive than simple words. Spencer is your husband and you love him, he loves you, and you are finally wanted.

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