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milkacchan · 4 years

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Request for anon: Can I have Present mic, Aizawa, and all might where they learn their young student is fatherless? Like... their father walked out/went to prison when they were young. I'm sorry if this is time consuming, but I can't stop sobbing over my father.

I'm the situation baby but remember it wasn't your fault

I changed it up a little bit with Mics- I hope you don't mind

Present Mic:

• from the getgo something was wrong

• The moment you walked into class he could tell

• You looked like shit

• Dark bags under your eyes, hair messily brushed, just to get it out if your face, and your eyes were a light red.

• You didn't look particularly happy to be there either

• something turns in his stomach, a gut feeling that something really had went down

• And he hated seeing his students upset

• but he was relatively close to you to begin with, his felt different

• He felt like he had to do something

• Everyone settled into their seats as the bull rung but his eyes remained on you

• You honestly didn't pay attention during the lesson

• He could tell as much

• class finishes and the bell rings but you sit still, and it's not until most of the students have trickled out of the room do you start packing up

• He walks over and kneels in front of the desk "You okay there? You don't look so good," he looks concerned and his heart drops when he sees your lip start to quiver

• It takes you 0.27 seconds to break and you're frantically wiping your eyes as sobs wrack your body

• He's got his arms wrapped around you in seconds and you're leaning into his shoulder.

• He isn't sure exactly how long you're crying for but eventually you calm down enough to get out a coherent sentence

• "My-My dad was arrested Friday night. He won't tell me why- he won't let anyone else tell me why and I don't know what else to do," you cry, "I miss him so much and its only been a few days- I don't- I don't have anyone else, Mr. Hazashi,"

• And you're crying again.

• He has you take the rest of the day off, in fact he takes the day with you

• He calls in a sub (you don't know what strings he had to pull for that but you don't ask, at this point you don't care) and you two dip

• He takes you to get food, real food, that'll make you feel better

• He knows that'll help a little

• and after that he takes you to get something sweet- that tends to help mood and blood pressure and anxiety

• So he does his best with you

• He nutures you the best way he knows how

• if you need anything and I mean ANYTHING this man has you covered

• He does his best to step up in any way he can

• first off he extends his assignment deadlines and cancels two tests. Who needs them anyway.

• And you eat lunch in his classroom because he can well tell you don't want to talk to anyone else right now

• He closes it off (seemingly) so in reality its just you and him

• He'll probably tell Aizawa too but on the downlow (just so he knows)

• When holidays roll around, the dorms close.

• In this case- he let's you stay with him. He has an extra bedroom. He doesn't want you to stay in an empty house.

• You also get his phone number (which you gladly use) for anything really

• Bored? He'll deliver some shitty puns.

• Confused about homework? Text him.

• having a mental breakdown? He's got you covered.

• You got memes? Please for the love of God send them to him.

• The dynamic eventually shifts to a VERY father daughter relationship.

• He knows he'll never replace your dad. He understands that wholeheartedly, but he wants you to have someone

• He actually gets a letter from your dad, thanking him for taking care of you

• but he really doesn't mind

Aizawa:

• He had a feeling that there was something going on at home. Or rather, a lack of something.

• He's dealt with it in the oast- with himself and with past students and current ones

• Shinsou

• I mean, aside from that fact whenever parents were mentioned, you'd either stiffen up or wrinkle your nose

• You didn't really like the subject of parents

• There was an essay prompt about parents (nothing too personal) nd you ended up writing it on the extinction of dinosaurs and why God fucked up instead

"It'd be absolutely stellar to see huge lizards roaming the earth and occasionally stepping on people, you know? Jurassic park was onto something."

• Man's couldn't even fail you on it because it was written v well

• Anyway, he doesn't pry too much. He just silently figures it out by process if elimination and pattern.

• He doesn't really care too much

• In the sense if it doesn't define you and he doesn't help you because he pities you

• he helps you because he seems potential

• He takes you under his wing with shinsou

• Yall spend a whole summer training

• And that's when it all came out

• It was an accident really.

• Shinsou was tired, exhausted really

• and when people get tired- that tired- sometimes they spout random shot they wouldn't usually say

• and thats what he did

• he went on about his home life

• and if he could, you could too right?? You could trust them.

• "My dad walked out when I was a kid. Little, like 3. I have a few pictures of him holding me, but I guess it wasn't enough. I don't have any desire to meet him. Not anymore. But it left me feeling like I did something wrong? I guess? Which I suppose is why I train. Because then I feel strong. Which is a good difference from how it usually feels."

• He knew it.

• He called it.

• He was right again.

• He reassures you that you are good enough, strong enough, and his decision to leave had nothing to do with you

• and when he saw you give him a soft smile, he warmed.

• I mean really, it only goes up from there

• he'll deny it, or grumble under his breath, but he seems you two as his own

• Like these aren't my kids but they are my kids

• When dorms close on holiday yall get to stay because that's where he lives too

• Like if you chose too

• he's not gonna force you to stay but if you don't want to go home, you don't have too

• He has that power

• He will buy you food

• all you gotta do is ask

• and he'll roll his eyes and grumble something he doesn't really mean, just secretly happy that you feel comfortable enough around him to ask for something

• lmao family group chat

S: 'Hey Mr. Aizawa I found this cat. Hold on lemme send a pic'

A: 'Dont need a pic. Bring him home'

Y: 'What if he's ugly??'

A: 'gremlin. Bring him home.'

Y: 'Hey I saw this tweet that said 'kids be like watch this and do a half roundhouse spin kick clap and waste my fucking time' and it make me think of you.'

S: @ mr. Aizawa when he has to watch deku do sumn

Y: Lmaoooo like when he threw the baseball

S: LMAOO

A: Me watching you too try to figure out how to beat me in training

Y: Yikes bro

S: That was a rough one

• Does he regret giving you and shinsou his number??

• Maybe

• Not really

• Lmao super secret lunch movie days

• Every week on wendesday yall watch a movie. Usually it takes 2 or 3 days to watch the movie since lunch is only 70 minutes

• @ you accidently calling him dad one day and shinsou snickering but it stuck

• dadzawa lmaoo

Allmight:

• Man's has 2 underlings.

• You and Deku.

• Picked you up when he started teaching at UA

• Ion know let's say one day you popped off bc he said some dumb shit and you were like no sir that's clearly wrong

• schooled him in his own damn subject

• the other kids were like 😳

• what the fuck

• Anyway

• He see's you have potential

• And though he's not the best teacher, you seem to respond better to the way HE was taught

• So tbh its easier to teach you

• 'okay, now I want you to beat the shot out if that wall,'

'Okay lmao bet'

• Midoriya is like, hey mayhaps we should analyze the situation

• N ur like noe

• You just don't give a fuck

• about anything really

• other than moving up the ranks

• But even then- its not a super super big deal, you're just gonna do your best but you aren't gonna stress

• However he noticed a pattern w you (even before Midoryia brought it up to him)

• You don't let anyone in

• Midoryia knows a bit more than the other students but that's really only because he's always with you

• a good majority of the week he's w you

• but its not really a deep connection

• you don't rely on either of them

• You do your best to do things on your own.

• He knows midoryias life story

• he knows why he acts the way he does

• but he doesn't know why you do

• he has a gut feeling it could be the same as midoryia

• I mean he already had one kid who's dad dipped

• he'll surely be able to figure out you too??

• So he makes himself a promise that he'll figure it out and he'll become someone you trust

• And he does just that

• When you tell him about your nightmare of a family history he's like mm, makes sense

• but he's happy that you trust him!!!

• He's a BIG suckered for movie nights

• he's got popcorn, snacks, candy, chocolate, soda- he's prepared

• list of movies lined out all ready

• I lowkey feel like he'd be into lord of the rings or fast n furious

• fast n furious at LEAST

• He's really into American action movies

• and he has no problem sharing those movies with you

• he doesn't have a whole ton of money, like he's not rich, but if you or midoryia need something he's definitely there to get it for you

• even if ur like fam no you don't need too

• he'll buy yell food a lot

• a l o t

• and cards

• when you and midoryia get him a father's day card he thinks he's gonna cry

• You guys also have a group chat

• 'da faemilee'

• Y: "Hey dad do you have milk?"

A: "???? Do I have milk????"

Y: "ya I'm looking in your fridge n ion see any???"

A: "How'd you even get in????"

Y: "Izuku."

I: "lmaoo"

Y: Izuku you dumb bitch I left for ONE day

Y: And you got into a fight with Bakugou

I: He wanted to throw hands. I just did what you would do.

A: He's got you there

A: What do you guys want for dinner

I: Sushi

Y: Chicfila

Y: Izu square up

I: K

Y: Izu is fighting kacchow again

A: Beat his ass young midoriya

Y: Lmaoooooo

#hizashi x daughter reader #hizashi x reader #aizawa x hizashi #hizashi yamada #yamada hizashi #present mic #present mic x reader #aizawa x child reader #aizawa x daughter reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #eraserhead #all might #all might x reader #mha toshinori

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anxiousstark · 4 years

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Gone with the waves | JJ MAYBANK

Request: Could I please get an imagine w JJ where everyone knows that you’re his only weakness and then something happens so y/n gets hurt so we get protective and worried JJ🥺 maybe Barry or someone else hurts her

I wanted to be original, and I got this idea! I believe it is quite cool? Hope it’s up to the anon’s expectations and that you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it! I’m quite proud of this tbh!

Warnings: Mentions of severe injuries, shark-related content, blood, swearing (a lot). Angst, but really just protective JJ confessing his feelings.

Word Count: 2067

A/N: If you guys like Teen Wolf or Dylan O’Brien, I have a Teen Wolf Rewrite. I would be so happy if you guys check it out.

BIG MASTERLIST

People screamed, cheering on. Smirks decorated their faces while their eyes followed the waves of the sea and the people riding the waves as if they were controlling them. Plastic bags were everywhere, hoping that people would throw their trash there, avoiding more sea pollution while they enjoyed the tournament.

A cold object against the back of your neck made you jump, a tiny screech coming out from in between your lips. "JJ, you scared the shit out of me." The blond boy smiled, sitting down on the sand, next to you. His fingers gripped a cold water bottle, extending his arm and offering it to you.

"The sea it's going to be colder today." He brushed his hands together, trying to get rid of the sand as he wanted to take off his shirt. You tried not to make it obvious that you were glancing at his body. "Nervous?" He grabbed your bag, pulling his shirt inside.

Swallowing two big gulps of freezing water, you nodded. "Yeah," You gave him back the bottle, which he gratefully grabbed, taking some sips. "It's been so long."

A couple of months ago, you had arrived at the Outer Banks with your big brother and his soon-to-be wife. Sadly, your parents passed away when you were younger, but you were lucky to have someone like Scott, your big brother. Emily, your sister-in-law, was also marvellous.

Back where you used to live, surfing was what kept you from wanting to give up. The heat of the day against the cold water, both fighting to change the temperature in your body. The sound of the calming waves, elegantly getting bigger and louder. The way your fingers grazed the water, helping to get you deeper into the sea.

However, two years before you had an accident.

The day you arrived at the Outer Banks, you spent the night wandering along the seashore. For you, the sound of the waves at night was magical. You were completely sure it had healing properties. The calm of the night was interrupted by a storm. A storm rounded by pretty girls, trying to flirt with him. A storm with blue eyes and blonde hair.

Without noticing, you got closer to the storm, which is something no one in their right minds would do. His name was JJ Maybank, and he was telling the story of how a shark had bitten him. You snickered, and he noticed, asking what was so funny about something that almost got him killed.

JJ Maybank didn't expect seeing you rolling your pants up, showing a real shark bite. For him, it was cool and badass. He immediately wanted to get to know you. He was even more mesmerized when he knew you were new to OBX. He wouldn't have forgotten your face so easily if you were from there.

For you, it was terrifying. It made you fear what you loved the most. The sea. It also meant that you weren't able to get into the sea. The physical and emotional pain being too much to withstand.

Now, exactly 11 months after arriving at the Outer Banks, you were ready to participate in your first Surfing tournament after what happened. You had to thanks JJ, who walked beside you, helping you get over your aversion towards the sea.

"Where are the others?" You asked, fingers slightly grazing your surfboard.

"They went to buy some food and drinks." He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the breeze caress his hair. He completely ignored the people screaming, and the ones that were participating in the tournament. "Told them to buy you something for when you come out of the water."

You hummed. Your heart started beating wildly when some of the participants came out of the water, meaning that the next ones would have to start getting ready. It was your turn.

"We are here!" Kiara's mouth was full of french fries, hands tightly holding a brown paper bag, offering it to the blond sitting next to you. The others were back too, sitting behind you two, knowing that your anxiety was kicking, and knowing that JJ was the only one capable of soothing you.

"Please, from number 5430 to number 5440. Get ready." The voice sounded all around the beach, making you gasp, trying to breathe.

"Okay," JJ moved, now looking directly at you. His hands grasped your thighs, moving you, so you were staring at him. "Did you warm up?" You nodded. "Did you put suncream?" Nod. His hands went down to your ankles, fingers rubbing circles, massaging them. "Any pain?" This time you shook your head. "Alright. Did you have a good breakfast and long ago?" Again, you nodded.

"Please, from number 5430 to number 5440. Go to the seashore. You know how this works. Every surfer will have their judge. They will take into account the precision to ride the waves, the height of the waves, time taken by the participants to ride them, times you fall, and times you continue trying. Have fun and enjoy the waves."

Maybank got up from the sand, one hand helping you stand. His other hand grabbed the surfboard, without any trouble, placing it under his armpit. He walked with you towards the seashore.

The surfboard was stuck into the sand, he turned you around, pulling up the zipper of your neoprene suit. "You got this." He whispered. When he stood in front of you, his eyes examined yours, knowing you were anxious. He bit his lower lip. "What did the great white shark say to the surfer?" You gazed at him, confused by his words. "Don’t worry, I’ll catch you."

You gasped, not being able to hold your laugh. "JJ, stop!" You groaned, a smile still in your face. "Don't do jokes like that!"

"At least you smiled!" He grinned, kissing your forehead. "You better concentrate on how loud I'm going to cheer you up." His hands squeezed your shoulders. "I believe in you. Good luck."

When JJ went back to the others, he couldn't eat his food. His stomach was upset enough to make him bite his nails, no appetite. "Should I say it now?" Sarah voiced, glancing at John B, who nodded. "Topper is in the tournament."

The blond moved his head so fast that he almost got dizzy. "As in at the beach?"

John B shook his head, burger being left on top of a brown paper bag resting on his lap. "As in the tournament. He is participating."

"What number?" JJ asked, glaring at them.

"5433." A voice behind him sounded. When JJ turned around, he saw Rafe Cameron, a smirk decorating his stupid face. "Isn't Y/N 5434? Aw, they are going to be next to each other."

Blue eyes snapped to the blue sea. You were already sitting on your surfboard, like the other participants, waiting for a great wave to come your way. Topper was a couple of meters away from you, but still quite close, also ready to ride those waves. "I swear to god," He suddenly got up, pushing Rafe. "If Topper does anything to her I will drown you both with my own hands." His fists clenched as he saw how Rafe walked away, smiling to himself. JJ turned around, looking at his friends. "Why did no one told me about Topper before Y/N went into the water?"

"Dude," Pope decided to speak. "Even if we had told you, you can't forbid her to get into the water just because of Topper."

"I can." He was convinced. "I can if I know Topper is in there. You guys know he doesn't play fair. She doesn't need to go through any of his fucking insane jokes."

"She's going to be alright." Kie tried to calm down her friend. However, she was terrified of what Topper could do. He wasn't going to play fair. He would do anything to win, especially when money was involved.

You kept calm, remembering all the things JJ had taught you. You were so thankful. Not only had he taught you to enjoy the waves again, but also to keep calm. At first, it was difficult. The fear of something big swimming under you, ready to attack, being fascinated by the smell of your blood. It terrified you more than ever.

There was no time to get lost in your thoughts as you perceived a magnificent wave coming your way. "This is it." Your chest was immediately pressed to the surfboard, arms moving faster, taking you to your destination.

You could hear people cheering back at the beach. They were cheering for you. You were riding the biggest wave of the day. Smiling to yourself, you forgot about concentrating because you were enjoying it, which was better than focusing.

However, you felt your surfboard abruptly shifting. Thankfully, you were able to maintain your balance. "Yo, get out of my wave." You snapped your head quickly, looking behind you. Then, concentrating on your balance again. Topper was so close to you. He was in YOUR wave, the front of his surfboard hitting the back of yours.

You could hear the commotion on the beach. Not only the judges had noticed that Topper was getting too close to you, breaking the rules. Not willing to follow the rules. "Stop," You screeched, your entire body tensing as you felt him hitting your board again.

Everything happened so fast, one minute you were telling Topper to get away from you, the second you were falling out of your board. The fins of Topper's board slicing your left shoulder. The sea consuming you.

Back at the shore, everyone fell silent, gasping. JJ held hands with John B, eyes wide open, dry mouth, heart beating like crazy. You weren't coming out of the water.

His hands went to grasp his hair as he saw three red boats getting father into the water, hoping to find you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He gasped for air. "Oh my god." He aggressively rubbed his face. "I'm going to kill them."

JJ thought he couldn't feel as worse as he felt at that moment. However, when the boats came back with you, he almost passed out. You were violently sobbing, blood covering your entire left arm. One of the lifeguards was pressing as many clothes as possible, trying to cut the blood.

The blond boy didn't think twice, running towards the boat. He was scared of touching you, terrified of hurting you. "Oh my god." He didn't dare to ask if you were okay, you clearly weren't. "I-I-."

"Hey boy, who are you?" The lifeguard asked.

"She's my girl." He nodded, eyes not leaving your wet face. "Yeah, I'm her boyfriend." The man explained to him that he had to press the clothes tightly against your shoulder as he had to run back to the tower, getting what he needed to take care of you while the ambulance was on its way.

"S-so I'm your girl now?" You continued whimpering, avoiding looking at the blood dripping down your entire arm.

"Always were." He offered a quick smile, swallowing hard. "Just making it official."

As the ambulance came and you were taken into the back, JJ held your hand tightly after telling the others to meet you two at the hospital. He sighed. "I-I thought you were going to die." He started crying, tightly holding your hand.

"You aren't getting rid of me so easily."

"I think you are too busy not trying to bleed out, but you won."

You groaned, whimpering a little due to the pain. "Did I win because of this?" You referred to the wound. JJ shook his head, letting you know that it was already decided before Topper threw you off your surfboard.

"You are bleeding out, I thought you almost died, I'm going to kill Topper and you are 100,000 dollars richer."

"50,000 dollars."

"No, the prize is-."

"I know." You turned your head to look at him. "My intention all along was to give you half of the money if I got a big prize. All if I got a small one." JJ's heart thumped painfully. "You deserve it, and you need it." He was going to complain, but you didn't let him. "Just a girl sharing her prize money with her boyfriend." You grinned.

"Well, at least it wasn't a shark this time."

"JJ!"

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favefandomimagines · 3 years

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Least Deserving (d.m.)

Summary: you’d been by Draco’s side since fifth year. and you knew of his demons but he didn’t seem to want the help you were offering.

AN: i really wanted this to have a really angsty not happy ending but i really couldn’t do that lol also wrote this in 20 minutes, my inspo was one tree hill tbh

i wanted to write something that was realistic. sometimes people can’t help their partners when it comes to trauma and sometimes people don’t want to be helped and that effects relationships way more than we think.

You and Draco had been a team since your fifth year at Hogwarts. You were always friends before that but then something clicked once puberty happened and feelings got involved.

He asked you to the Yule Ball and everything changed after that moment. Draco was never the type of person who was open about their feelings. It took a lot of time and patience until he finally decided to tell you if anything was wrong.

It got worse after the war ended. He was paranoid and jumpy, afraid that Death Eaters will come out of the woodwork and kill him for betraying them in the end. His PTSD and paranoia didn’t stop you from loving him.

You were going through your own issues as well when it came to post-war life but you also knew Draco was going through the ringer.

And him not liking being vulnerable led to his temper being one no one wanted to trigger. So you tried to offer him your help when you could see he was struggling worse than most days.

You ‘prying’ led to him getting angry and saying how you need to give him space or he won’t get better. But you’ve been giving him all the space in the world and you didn’t know how else to help him anymore.

After Hogwarts, you became a healer at St. Mungo’s. You were quite successful in your work. So much so, they offered you a position at St. Jouge’s Hospital for the Ailing and Maimed in New York City.

You thought it was the perfect opportunity for you and Draco to both get away from the demons and reminders of the war. You hoped that you would get the Draco you fell in love with back if you left London.

The evening you found out about your job, you arrived back to your home that you shared with Draco. You were excited to tell him the news but a bit nervous as to how he would take it.

You opened the door and the inside was dark. You knew Draco was home because his jacket was on the hook by the front door.

“Draco?” You called, placing your wand on the table. You progressed further down the hallway and peeked through the crack in the doorway of your bedroom.

Draco was sitting on the bed, staring at the dark mark that was seared into his forearm. You pushed the door open, causing it to creak and Draco stood up defensively, wand pointed at you.

“Hey, it’s just me.” You said, hands raised in defense. “Y/N,” He started, lowering the wand and sitting back down. “Are you alright?” You asked. “I’m fine.” He said with a small scoff. “This doesn’t look fine. What were you planning to do if I hadn’t walked in?” You questioned.

For months, Draco had been talking about trying to get rid of the dark mark. How he would do anything to get rid of the reminder of a very dark period of his life.

“I wasn’t going to do anything, Y/N.” He snapped. “Draco, talk to me. Please.” You begged. “There’s nothing to talk about!” Draco yelled. You were used to him lashing out so you didn’t have much of a reaction.

“What if we leave? Go to America and just, start fresh? Or at least until we’re ready to come back.” You suggested.

Draco looked up at you with a look you couldn’t quite decipher. It looked as if he was almost disgusted with you. “I can’t just leave, Y/N. No matter where I go, this mark will follow me. It’ll always be a reminder of what I did.” He replied. “You never understand! You try to help me but you don’t understand what I’m going through!” Draco added.

Now it was your turn to look at him in disgust. “I don’t understand?” You questioned. “I, don’t understand what you’re going through? I lost my best friend in that war. Lost my parents because everyone thought they were members of the Order.” You sneered.

You rolled up your own sleeve and revealed the scar that was on your arm. Draco flinched away from the sight of the injury. “Your aunt carved ‘blood traitor’ into my skin after she tortured Hermione. And you say I don’t understand?” You said, voice rising.

“All I want to do is help you, Draco.” You finished. “You can’t help me! So stop trying when you’re going to fail!” He yelled.

You squeezed your eyes shut causing a few stray tears to fall but you quickly wiped them away. Though Draco noticed.

“I got offered a position at St. Jogue’s Hospital in New York City. I think I’m going to take it.” You whispered. “What?” He questioned. “We aren’t good for each other anymore. I don’t deserve how you’ve been treating me, after all I do is love you and care about you.” You explained.

“I need to go. I love you, Draco, but I need to go find someone who lets me in. It’s been three years since the war. No amount of guilt can change the past and no amount of anxiety can change the future.” You spoke.

An eerie, uncomfortable silence fell upon the bedroom as Draco avoided your gaze. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, Draco. Maybe someone else will.” You concluded.

Draco didn’t move from the spot he was standing in. Not until he heard the front door slam shut. Only then did the reality of the situation sink in. He pushed you closer and closer to the edge every time he didn’t let you in. And he finally pushed you over. He lost you.

It had been two months since you had moved to America. You were quite lonely though, the flat you were given being a little too big for just you. Originally, you had told them you and your boyfriend would both be living there. You hadn’t had time to tell them the plan changed.

So you a got a dog. A little Scottish Terrier that you named Fred. After your late best friend who the world lost in the war. You told Ginny and Hermione it was because your home was too big.

But they knew it was a distraction from Draco. Having work plus a dog gave you enough distractions so you only thought about him a few times. Though you loved your little companion, it didn’t replace the aching you felt anytime you found yourself thinking of Draco.

You had just gotten home from an overnight shift at St. Jouge’s, going through your mail as Fred was running down the hall from your bedroom.

“Freddie, you know you’re not supposed to go into my room when I’m not home.” You lightly scolded the little dog. But then you realized that you always leave your bedroom door closed.

With furrowed eyebrows you walk down the hall, wand outstretched and peered into your bedroom. You thought you were hallucinating due to lack of sleep but there he stood. Platinum blonde hair askew, wrinkled black dress shirt and his usual pair of black dress pants.

“D-Draco?” You stammered. He turned around you could clearly see the change in his appearance. He was pale, very thin and looked like he hadn’t had a goodnights sleep in weeks. “How did you get in here?” You questioned.

“Alohamora.” He said quietly. “Now, why are you here?” You asked. “I’m sorry. For how I treated you. As if you weren’t dealing with your own things because of all we’ve lost. I didn’t mean to push you away and I don’t have any excuses as to why I treated you the way I did.” Draco answered. “Can you try to at least explain? Why you were so awful to me when all I wanted was to be there for you?” You questioned.

“I was scared. I was scared that you would look at this stupid mark everyday and have to be reminded of everything I took from you. Lavender, your parents, what my aunt did. I don’t want our life to be surrounded with everything that happened. Everything that I’ve done.” He said.

You took a few careful steps towards him but not too close. “You took nothing from me, Draco. You were just a boy in a world you didn’t understand nor belong in. I could never blame you for what happened. And I know he threatened you with my life if you didn’t do it.” You said.

Draco looked at you with a shocked expression, wondering how you knew about the threat that was made against your life. “How did you-” He started. “Harry. He heard what you said at the Astronomy tower that night.” You cut him off.

Just like it did two months ago, the room fell into a silence. Draco sat down on the edge of your bed and put his head in his hands. You saw his body shake slightly and heard a muffle sob come from his lips.

“I need help, Y/N. And I can’t do it without you.” He whispered. You had waited so long to hear him say that and admit that he needed help. You walked over and sat down next to him and rest your head on his shoulder. “And I’ll be here.” You replied. “I think moving to New York is a good idea.” He told you.

Draco looked up at you and you could see the small glimmer of hope in his eyes. “I think that’s best.” You said. “I missed you.” He whispered. “I missed you too. I bought a dog not to miss you.” You laughed.

“That reminds me, I’m not a dog person.” Draco said. “That’s a lie. Your father just wouldn’t let you have one.” You said. “What’s its name?” He asked. Draco quickly regretted that question when a slightly sad smile appeared on your face. “Fred. It felt right.” You said.

Draco wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into him. “I love you, Y/N.” He said. “And I love you, Draco.” You replied.

The two of you sat in that position for quite sometime. Both of you ready to get the help that the two of you needed.

#imagine #imagines #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #ron weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #hermione granger #ginny weasley

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lightsinthedistancee · 3 years

Text

On Your Skin : Poe Dameron x Reader

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Words: 1.1k

Summary: “There is something so inexplicably intimate about it all. Him looking down at you with tender, hyper-concentrated eyes. You willingly resting there as his living, breathing canvas that he runs his fingers over with the utmost care.”

A calm morning between Poe and Reader after eight weeks away from each other.

A/N: So guys, I was looking through all my works the other day, and I realized that someone ends up crying in literally all but 3 of them...who knew? (And they’re all angsty in some way too). So I’ve taken a huge step—this fic is ✨happy✨!! Enjoy!

“Poe, stop!”

You giggle, sleepily rolling onto your back to get away from him. The sun is just barely peeking over the horizon as you protest, making itself known through the windows of the room. His hands had been trailing down your sides, increasingly lighter and lighter, increasingly more and more ticklish.

He smiles down at you, the sight of his warm toned skin soothing on your senses. “What, sweetheart? I can’t touch you after two months away on a mission?”

You roll your eyes at the newly formed, exaggerated pout on his lips. “You can. Just not like that.”

“Fine. As you wish,” he sighs dramatically, falling back down beside you. You make a move to rest your head on his chest, but at the last moment he shifts away, leaving you on empty sheets.

Your gaze snaps up, a glare already on your features. He looks as if he’s trying not to laugh. “What? I thought…”

“Poe,” you whine, eyes widening. Perhaps it’s cheesy, perhaps it’s purely comical, but it has the same effect on him as it always does. His expression softens.

“Maybe if you ask nicely,” he teases, dodging your grip again as you reach for him.

It’s your turn to pout now, simply saying nothing. In reality, you know he’ll give in within moments at simply the sight of you snuggled up in sheets, asking for him to be near you.

He finally laughs, scooting back closer, gently pushing you onto your stomach, tracing circles on the skin of your nearly bare back, covered only halfway with a loose camisole. You let out a sigh of contentment at the feel of his fingertips. It’d seemed like it’d been an eternity since you’d felt them in such an intimate situation.

“How was Corellia?” you ask softly, burying your head back in the pillow, letting him roam your body as he pleased. The planet was where he’d been the last eight weeks.

“Alright. Would’ve been better if you were there.”

You roll your eyes again. What makes it even more sickly sweet is the fact that you know it’s true for him.

“You know the Corellian word for flower?” he asks all of a sudden.

You raise an eyebrow at the random question, shaking your head.

He tells you, the sounds rolling off his tongue with a sweetness only he can achieve. The word sounds incredibly similar to your name.

“Reminds me of you,” said Poe, stating the obvious.

His leisurely movements abruptly cease before he pulls away. You whine at the loss of contact, but he returns in moments after grabbing something from the bedside table drawer. It’s a thin marker. You can almost see his thought process as his eyes flick from the drawing tool to the bare expanse of your back.

“Please?” He looks at you with an expression that he knows you can’t resist. You feign a moment of thought, but in reality, you’d made your choice the moment he’d pulled the marker out.

At your confirmation, you feel his hands gently helping you pull the camisole over your head, letting you get fully comfortable on your stomach.

A jolt runs through you as the cold tip of the marker makes first contact with your skin. From your position with your head to the side, you can clearly see him. He’s wearing just his boxers, legs crossed, his back bent, his face pointed down in concentration.

“What are you drawing?”

“Flowers,” he simply answers. He gives you no more details.

As the time passes in a comfortable silence, you find yourself closing your eyes, attuning to your sense of touch more than you had in a long time. You feel the tip of the marker, the brief coldness of the ink when it first goes on—perhaps the trace of a petal, a leaf, a thorn.

But most of all, you feel him. The soft side of his hand with each sweeping stroke. The rough, calloused pad of his thumb as he quickly brushes away a mistake before it fully dries.

There is something so inexplicably intimate about it all.

Him looking down at you with tender, hyper-concentrated eyes.

You willingly resting there as his living, breathing canvas that he puts his soul into.

It is comforting to the point that you almost doze off as he works, slowly becoming more and more unaware of his movements, of his eyes darting back and forth between your skin and a reference on his holopad.

“Sleepy?” You jump when his voice breaks the silence.

You nod, blinking slowly as your eyes lock on him.

He chuckles at your reaction, bending over to press a kiss to the base of your neck.

“Rest—,” he tells you. “—just don’t move.”

You giggle, allowing your eyelids to close over, allowing your sight to be enveloped in darkness.

The minutes on the clock tick past with an uncanny speed for the both of you. Luckily, it is a day off, and the air is relaxed, free of the anxiety that could come on certain days.

It is just you and him, in a quiet room, softly lit by light just barely penetrating the thin curtains. The tip of the marker begins to skip around your back, and it is almost like a game as you non-visually detect his movements with a trained sensitivity, trying to place where the nib of ink would make contact next.

His warm hands brush away a few strands of hair covering the back of your neck, and the blunt tip of the drawing utensil moves in a fluid, curvaceous movement, perhaps a vine or the edge of a leaf.

“Done,” he states, running his thumb over the delicate skin beneath your eyes to bring you back to full consciousness.

You only groan, looking up at him, expression still tired and more tranquil than ever.

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t want to look?”

One of the last things you want to do is move, but curiosity overcomes you as you manage to drag yourself out of bed, walking to the mirror, arms across your bare chest, more so for warmth than modesty.

He follows you, resting a hand on your hip as you turn your back to the glass, tilting your head so you can see.

A smile immediately develops as your eyes roam over the intricate lines running over your skin: roses, hibiscus, hydrangeas—more exotic species that you assume he’s discovered on his numerous off-planet missions.

“You like them?” he asks. The grin he is barely holding back suggests he already knows the answer.

“The fact that you have to ask doesn’t say much about your intelligence, love.”

His jaw drops in faux offense. You laugh as you grasp his chin, pulling him down into a deep kiss. Breaking away soon after, you glance back into the mirror once again. Adoration floods your veins at the sight of the complex beauty drawn onto your skin by his own hands. “They’re beautiful.”

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

A/N: Ok tbh, I had no idea where the heck this thing came from. Half of my brain was like “yeessss, artist Poe, that’s amazing!” and the other half was like, “that makes no sense, that’s the least Poe thing ever” so yeah…I don’t know. Lmk your guys’ opinion on the matter. Also, I didn’t want to add it and ruin the atmosphere but Poe’s immediate response after the last line is “Like you?” and no one can change my mind.

Taglist (for everything): @dark-academics-and-florals @theultimateslashgirl @princessxkenobi

Taglist (for Poe): @paper-n-ashes @synical-paradox @spider-starry

If you wish to be tagged on any of my future works, let me know! You can also do the form on my masterlist for specific preferences/to be tagged if that’s easier.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #poe dameron fanfiction #tlj #tfa #tros

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silverbyuls · 3 years

Photo

( lee hyeri, cis female, muse i ) oh snap! is that SHIN EUNBYUL they work over at high volume where some of the other employees have labeled them as THE AVERAGE JOE. that’s probably because they can be a bit ( optimistic. ) but also pretty ( dishonest. ) they’re TWENTY TWO and they’ve been living in woodstock for TWENTY TWO YEARS. it must be their shift because i totally hear THE CRANBERRIES blasting from the record store. ( a little tikes piggy bank tucked under the bed, clothing label sticking out from the back, snap clips with varnish peeling off, jelly shoes with the strap taped together, leaving lisa frank stickers along record crates ) @volumeupdates

BIO

the luke hemsworth of the family but middle child

goes by byul

tried to go by ‘e.b.’ but her mum went berserk because she’d reduced her name to two letters for the ease of her yt friends and her brother bullied her for being e.t’s ugly sister so now she tries to go by silver star (her name translated into english) but it doesn’t quite stick

claims that her older sister and younger brother stole all her beauty, brain cells and height

family invested everything into older sister so she could go to college in new york: savings, loans, moved to smaller house which is even further from the town centre

brother requires all attention as he has high hopes of getting into college on a baseball scholarship and she lowkey can’t wait until he’s far away from woodstock

her grades have always been average so no one expects her to leave – her parents talk about how nice it is that she’ll be with them forever but she knows that’s because they want her to take care of them when they’re old … which she would! if they didn’t live in woodstock

she tells them she’s going to move to california, but they think she’s as serious about that as she is about wanting to go to college, or becoming supermodel of the world, or an olympic swimmer, when she has average grades, of average height, and can’t even swim

if her life was a movie, she’d have fallen asleep in the first ten minutes – it has always been so boring and uneventful, so she lives up in her head with her fake scenarios to keep things interesting – most of the time, they’re taken straight from a book or magazine

sometimes these thoughts spill over into reality because she can’t fathom the idea of people realising she’s as plain as she is, and her little white lies give her a bit of sparkle to stand out (in her opinion)

but she will get to california!

she even has a plan:

she’s been working at freddy’s diner since she was fifteen, escaping to high volume whenever she can, a place where she can pop her headphones on during her breaks and pretend she’s getting ogled at on venice beach, but she’s terrible at saving so seven years later she’s still grinding

once she graduates high school, she has enough time for a second job and she’d dropped enough hints in front of jerry for him to kindly offer her a job. after all, she spends as much time in high volume as she does at freddy’s so there’s not much of a difference once she becomes an employee -- still floating around the place, sipping on her coke can, either people watching or people chasing -- except now she has access to the register

after a big argument with her parents, she ended up moving out into a place in the middle of town. that was never part of the plan because saving was easier when she lived at home. she’ll say things got really bad but really, she was just getting closer to her target and she wanted a valid reason to put it off for a bit longer

she was only supposed to do it once – stealing from the cash register. it was just right there, no one was around, and she thought it was going to be her last shift because jerry was angry at her for being late again (granted, he hadn’t actually been mad, but it was one of those days when everything felt personal)

besides, she’d overheard a group of girls she’d idolised in school talk about how they stole some underwear and they made it sound so cool

she felt like everyone could hear her heart thumping against her chest as she walked out of the store but the day after, no one said anything about it, no one even noticed, and she wasn’t fired. so she did it again, and again, and again, and eventually she didn’t even bat an eyelid

the extra money was supposed to help her reach her goal faster but, again, she’s terrible at saving and her parents are so hardworking, she can’t help but feel guilty and buy nice things for them every once in a while and when they ask where she got the money from, she lies and says jerry gave her a bonus for being a good employee

on the other hand, if they’ve had an argument, or they’ve forgotten about her again, she’ll have a full on les-mis-i-dreamed-a-dream episode then splurge out on a cute jacket because it’s hers and it’s new! rather than worn out hand-me-downs from her sister or brother!

started her own side hustle called the separation agency – inspired after a customer at high volume asked her to help him break up with his boyfriend. so she’s the messenger for people who have things to say but don’t have the balls to say it to someone’s face themselves. usually they’re horrible messages, like break ups. she’s had like three customers and tries to promote her side hustle whilst on her shift at high volume

she thinks her “business” could actually thrive in a bigger city which is just another reason why she needs to get out of woodstock – it’s holding her back!

anyway, jerry’s missing, which is perfect for her because she gets to come in late and not get told off, and maybe steal a little more than she usually does

PERSONALITY:

when she’s around people, she seems like an extrovert: bubbly, talkative, dramatic ... which uses up a lot of her energy and her social battery is weak, so needs her own space often, and likes doing nothing by herself so sometimes she’ll lie to get out of plans or bail last minute

she has big dreams, and talks about all her big plans, but has leaving anxiety which is why she’s shit at saving and makes up excuses as to why she can’t leave just yet

has main character syndrome -- likes to live her life as a romcom, most of her lies revolve around her love life because she wants to be seen as desirable, but also will overanalyse everything

sensitive, passionate, immature, sympathetic, fickle, clumsy, dramatic, caring, head in clouds

will pretend to knows things to fit in like ~hipster~ bands or anything really, depends on the crowd

could gladly spend all day talking to customers at work then the next day she’ll prefer to day dream in the storage room

rides a bike to and from work and almost everywhere else too -- the only one out of her siblings who had to bike to school because small car and siblings took up all the space -- she’s had the same bike since high school

loves spice girls but feels like she’ll be judged so keeps quiet and plays it when she’s closing

honestly could hate you one day and have a crush on you the next but you wouldn’t even know it -- a vicious cycle

collects stickers and leaves them everywhere and on everyone - often passive aggressive through them, basically uses them like emojis

will try to order food and get others to pay for it - especially kfc, never gets to eat the drumsticks at home so will honestly cry if people steal the drumsticks from her

buys lottery tickets and scratch cards because she has a 50/50 chance of winning

WANTED CONNECTIONS: (current connections)

start up: stolen str8 from a kdrama that ruined my life hehe her parents set her up with a pen pal to keep her busy out of guilt because they’re so busy with her siblings and work and obviously she romanticises it !!! her parents would’ve asked to lie a little bit, just so she’d be writing to someone she’d easily obsess over -- love island vc: someone who ticks all the boxes

xoxo gossip girl: someone who loves a good gossip sesh -- they probably send 👀 at each other across the store when things feel a bit tense, which is code for ‘meet me in the storage room’ so they can chat away for the rest of their shift

lunch stealer: she makes her own lunch every day and is extremely protective over it but one day it went missing and she knows it was them (maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t) so now they are her sworn enemy

sister’s/brother’s friend: therefore an automatic enemy

shut up: someone who just tells her to shut up because she chats so much shit and she’s insane - just sandra x dina vibes from superstore (x)

carpool karaoke: she hates cycling in when it’s raining, so either she’s trying to get them to be her designated driver or has already succeeded and is annoying about it

crush #1: someone she has a crush on (more of an infatuation) and they’re not interested in her in the slightest but in her head they’re giving her mixed signals and she has made up a fake boyfriend to try to make them jealous

crush #2: someone she thinks has a crush on her. either because they’re nice or tease her or just mean, it doesn’t matter, she’s insane so she’ll interpret it however she wants

ex: they never broke up, or even dated, but she thinks something almost happened between them and she thinks she cut things off by giving them space

separation agency: someone who once used the agency either out of the kindness of their heart or for a different reason entirely and now she won’t stop pestering them to try and get them to use it again

no thots just vibes: i just like this gifset tbh (x) and we can brainstorm !

#volumeintro #*releases into the wild*

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cacoetheswriting · 4 years

Text

unrequited love - spencer reid

Warnings: mild cursing, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of murder, usual criminal minds stuff tbh Word Count: 2.6k Requested By: anonymous : “can you write a spencer reid fic? something ansgsty maybe..”.

No one understands why you do certain things even when you know you're never going to get anything back. - Shahul Hussain

QUANTICO, VIRGINA

The smell of freshly brewed coffee was probably your favourite, especially at ungodly hours of the morning. Closing your eyes for a brief moment you could feel a sort of calm and warmth surround you. The aroma slowly awoke your senses. Your lips touched the brim of the white mug in your hand and you took a slow sip.

“Good morning Y/L/N.” Derek Morgan appeared beside you. You looked up at him from your mug. “I brought you a coffee but I can see you couldn't wait.” He joked holding up a paper cup. “You know me Derek, I’ll take all the caffeine I can get.” You replied grabbing the cup from him. “Especially at four in the morning.” Derek smirked. “Yeah, they have to stop doing that to us.”

With two coffees in hand, you made your way to the conference room. The rest of the team was already there. You sat at your usual seat, placing the coffees on the table in front of you, and turned your attention to the screen.

“Morning my lovelies.” Penelope began. “I would say good but there is nothing good about it given the case we have been asked to wor-” “Garcia.” Hotch interrupted briefly encouraging her to get to the point. “Right. Yes. No time to waste.” Penelope cleared her throat and fixed her glasses.

“Last night, twenty-five year old Millie Moore didn't return home after her shift at a bar in Riverside, California. Her body was discovered this morning in a dumpster behind her workplace.”

“The killer wanted her to be found.” JJ stated. There was a brief pause before Penelope continued.

“The kidnapping and murder was linked to four other cases in the state of California spanning over the last month.” The images filled the screen causing you to clench your fists in disgust.

The small rather insignificant action was observed by the brunette man sitting across from you. Unnoticed by everyone else at the table, Spencer’s eyes focused on your hands before travelling up to your face. He examined the look spread across your features, trying to figure out what was on your mind.

“He definitely has a type.” Rossi noticed. “Any signs of sexual assault?” Derek questioned. “Yes, actually all of the victims displayed signs of uhm.” Garcia couldn’t bare to finish her sentence.

“Given the small cooling off period between each victim, we need to assume the unsub has his next target already picked out.” Hotch stated. “Garcia can finish briefing us on the plane. Wheels up in twenty.”

The group nodded at each other and all got up from their seats - all but you. For some reason you couldn't avert your eyes from the gruesome images that filled the screen.

“Y/N...” Spencer’s soft whisper brought you back to reality. He stood just a few steps away. You titled your head to look at him noticing a concerned look spread on his face. “They look like me Spence. The victims, they all look like me.”

Spencer cleared his throat. “Humans in fact, aren’t that genetically diverse. So eventually, the numbers would dictate that certain features resembling yours and another persons will randomly combine.” He paused.

“But that doesn’t mean they are an exact duplicate of you.” He smiled hoping you would smile back. “You’re right, sorry. It’s just a little weird.” “We’ve had weirder.” Spencer said as you got to your feet. The young doctor grabbed one of the coffees for you as you grabbed the other and followed you out to the pit.

“You know caffeine increases alertness by blocking a brain chemical called adenosine that makes you feel tired, while at the same time triggering the release of adrenalin that’s known to increase energy.” Spencer stated placing the coffee cup he was holding on your desk.

“If the amount of caffeine is high enough, these effects are stronger, resulting in caffeine-induced anxiety.” You finished the fact for him, slightly rolling your eyes. “Yes Spence, I know. You tell me this every time I have more than one mug in the morning.” The smart doctor shrugged smiling at you. He grabbed his go-bag from underneath his desk and waited for you.

The friendship you shared with Spencer was an odd one. The two of you were quite close when you were still at the academy. He helped you study for all your tests and was always one to share tips on how to complete certain tasks.

A couple of years go by without contact. At that point you were a field agent in New York, which is where you reconnected on a case. The spark was instant although neither of you wanted to admit it. This time Spencer stayed in touch. It was clear then that whatever undiscovered feelings he had for you back when you first met resurfaced - but you weren’t ready to explore whether you felt the same.

Next thing you know you were getting a call from Aaron Hotchner with an offer to join the BAU. Something, you later found out, Spencer had fought to get organised.

It felt like you played with his heart. To an outsider it probably even looked like that - he fell in love with a girl and landed her a dream job in hopes that she would love him back.

RIVERSIDE, CALIFORNIA

“What if we’re dealing with a disgruntled boyfriend or husband?” JJ posed the question. “He lost someone in his life that resembled the victims.” “Then why kill them?” Derek questioned.

The team was gathered around a conference table brainstorming. Spencer was the only one not sitting down, not unusual for Dr. Reid. He was pacing around the bullpen talking on the phone, probably with Penelope.

Your eyes lingered on the back of his head for a moment through the glass window. Something Derek noticed immediately. “Where’s your head at Y/L/N?” You turned your attention to the rest of the team. “What if JJ is right in a way? But rather than a significant other, what if the unsub was rejected by these women or someone who looks like them?”

Derek nodded his head in understanding. Your eyes scanned the team waiting for anyone sitting at the table to suggest something else. It was Rossi who opened his mouth next however whatever was on his mind was interrupted by Spencer storming into the room.

“Where’s your mind at pretty boy?” Derek questioned leaning back in his chair. “I spoke with Garcia. All of the victims had social media accounts and tagged-” He approached the map pinned to one of the boards. “- three different spots in this location before they were murdered.” With a red pen, Spencer circled one area on the map.

“The hunting ground.” Rossi stated and everyone else nodded.

“Let’s split up.” Hotch began. “Reid, go with Y/L/N. Derek and Rossi, and JJ you’re with me. I’ll get Garcia to send us the exact addresses, hopefully one of these places will bring us a step closer to catching the unsub.”

The team got to their feet and one by one left the conference room, leaving you alone with Spencer. “Ready partner?” He asked smiling at you. “Always.”

It didn't take long to get there, traffic was unusually quiet for California. Plus whenever you’re with Spencer the conversation flow makes the moments pass by quickly - you never run out of things to talk about.

“Looks closed.” You said getting out of the car, shutting the door behind you. “Strange, it’s the middle of the day.” Spencer noted as he walked around the hood. The two of you glanced at each other before moving forward towards the entrance of the coffee shop.

The door wasn't locked so you made your way inside. A small ‘ding’ from the bell above your heads signalised you have entered the premises. An eerie feeling came over you.

The lights were switched off. The chairs were placed neatly on the tables. Menus were carefully stacked beside the register, sugar bowls placed in a row along the countertop. A wet floor sign was placed in the middle of the room. You walked around it carefully, that’s when you noticed the strong smell.

“Is that?” You asked looking at Spencer. “It smells like bleach.” The young doctor stated back, his hand travelled to his gun. Slowly, with one hand on your weapon holster, you made your way around the countertop. That’s when you felt someone grab you from behind. A shriek escaped your mouth getting Spencer’s attention.

The unknown male held your arms behind your back as he led you back towards the middle of the coffee shop - using you as a human shield. He kicked over the yellow sign and stopped. You could feel his hot breath against your skin, it made you sick. “Let her go.” Spencer stated sternly, pointing his gun.

“I’m going to walk out of here.” The male said. “And you’re going to let me.” You watched Spencer shake his head. “I can’t let you do that.” His response wasn't what the man wanted to hear. Frustrated, he drew your weapon from the holster and placed it to your temple causing the air to catch in your throat.

“How about now?” The man sounded angrier. He could sense your fear, just like you could sense Spencer’s. The young doctor met your gaze briefly before looking back at the man holding you.

“What’s your name?” Spencer asked. The man scoffed. “I’m not telling you shit!” “Tell me your name and maybe we can sort something out.” Spencer said calmly, his gun still pointing in your direction.

There was a brief moment of heavy silence before the man snarled: “You first.”

“My name is Dr. Spencer Reid and the woman you are now holding at gunpoint, that’s Agent Y/N Y/L/N.” You could feel the man shift, as if he was trying to get a better look at you before he turned his attention to Spencer again. “Theo.” He said simply.

“Nice to meet you Theo. How old are you Theo?” “What’s that got to do with anything?!”

Your whole body was shaking at this point.

“O-okay Theo. Tell me this instead, why did you kill all of those women?” “I didn’t hurt anyone!” Theo snapped. “Only a guilty man would hold a federal agent at gunpoint.” Spencer pointed out. “Shut up!” Theo lowered the gun from your temple and pointed it at Spencer. A lone tear escaped the corner of your eye.

“Why did you kill them Theo?” Spencer asked again.

“They deserved it.” Theo answered after a brief moment of silence. “They hurt me!” “How did they hurt you Theo?” The man’s grip around you tightened. “They just hurt me!” He screamed. “Now let me go or I swear, she’s next!” The gun was back at your temple.

Spencer met your scared gaze. The look in his eye was almost as if to say everything was going to be okay, that he was going to get you out of this. You tried to smile. You even mouthed “It’s okay.” at which Spencer’s jaw locked - he wasn’t going to lose you, not like this.

“Those women hurt you Theo? I know exactly what that feels like.” Spencer said calmly. “Being hurt by someone you love.” You could feel Theo nod against your head. His grip loosened slightly.

“Do you know what unrequited love is Theo?” Spencer asked and without waiting for a response continued. “It’s love not reciprocated or returned. It’s when you love someone and they don't love you back, they don't acknowledge your love.” Spencer stated. At this point you were crying. Lone droplets escaped your eyes and traced down your cheeks.

“That’s how those women made you feel, right? As if you weren’t worthy to love them.” Spencer said. You could feel the hurt in his voice.

“They didn't see me.” Theo said, his voice shaky. “They didn't care!” He exclaimed taking a step forward. In doing so, his grip around you loosened completely and you were able to turn around while grabbing his arm that was holding the gun.

Theo kneed you in the stomach causing you to fall back a little. When you looked up he had the gun pointed at you.

“If you shoot her, I shoot you.” Spencer said sternly, his weapon once again drawn and pointed at the unsub. Theo scoffed. “She's the one that hurt you, isn't she?” Spencer didn't respond. “I figure I’d be doing you a favour then.”

The sound of the gun being cocked caused your heart to stop. Yet Spencer was quicker. He fired one shot, hitting Theo in the shoulder. This enabled you to overpower the unsub and disarm him.

“Call for backup.” The young doctor said kneeling down beside you. “Spence-” “Call for backup.” He repeated without looking at you. Without saying another word, that’s exactly what you did.

BAU Jet

The sound of silence filled the plane. Everyone was exhausted to say the least, and catching up on necessary sleep. Yet every time you closed your eyes you felt uncomfortable. Spencer’s words from the coffeeshop kept ringing in your ears, the broken look on his face overwhelmed your brain.

Slowly, you got to your feet and walked down the jet. The young doctor was sitting alone at the back of the aircraft, head buried in a book.

“Hey.” You whispered loud enough to get his attention. His head popped up, his eyes met yours. “Hi.”

“Mind if I sit down?” You asked politely pointing to the empty seat. “Not at all. Make yourself comfortable.” He placed the book down as you made yourself comfortable.

“Can’t sleep?” “I could ask you the same thing.” Spencer replied. “Well, having a gun pointed to your head isn’t exactly dreaming material.” You breathed with a soft smile. Spencer nodded his head.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“I wanted to thank you.” You said. “For saving my life.” “I was just doing my job.” Spencer replied. “Right.” You sighed and leaned your head back on the chair, breaking eye contact.

“Y/N-” “I’m sorry Spencer.” You interrupted. Confused, the young doctor asked: “Why are you apologising?” “For hurting you.” Slowly, you tilted your head to once again look at the brown haired man. His head was down, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

“I’m sorry for making you feel as if you weren't worthy.” “I just said that to get the unsub’s attention. I said that so he would let you go.” “We both know that's not true Spencer.”

The young doctor sighed. “I don't know what you want me to say Y/N.” He whispered while turning his head in your direction. “You don't need to say anything.”

Spencer lifted his hand and slowly using one finger placed a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he did. A shiver ran down your spine at the touch.

“I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.” Spencer said, his hand now holding your face. “However, you made it obvious you don’t feel that way about me so I’ve done my best to just be your friend.” He sighed. “Y/N it’s getting really hard to just be your friend.”

He let his hand fall before shifting his body weight away from you. He leaned his head against the aircraft and looked out the window.

Tears formed in your eyes. “Spence.” You whispered but he didn't respond. Instead, the young doctor closed his eyes.

You knew better than to keep pushing. With your fingers, you wiped the tears from your face and made yourself comfortable before also closing your eyes.

Hoping you’d drift asleep quickly your mind wondered. Tomorrow, you would talk to him again tomorrow and everything would be just fine. Right?

Never pretend to a love which you do not actually feel, for love is not ours to command. - Alan Watts

masterlist

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst

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leviaju · 4 years

Text

𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚌𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚢!

“𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵,” 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯, 𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘥𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴, “𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵?”

“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵, 𝘩𝘮?” 𝘈 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘯’𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦.

“𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”

ꜱᴀᴛᴀɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ɴꜱꜰᴡ

5.7ᴋ+

incl: choking, more degradation than i was expecting tbh, collars and cat ears!, gagging, he’s also kinda possessive, thigh riding, pet names, so much porn oh god i am a sinner, plus some wholesome satan moments, as well as some wholesome brotherly bonding between satan and luci

hey guYS!!! i haven’t read satan’s birthday event so this could end up being totally OOC buT i wanted to write smth for my nerd boy ;;;;;;; also this ended up being way longer than i expected,,, i wanted 2k at most and just porn,,, but i got caRRIED aWAY

anYWAYS it’s all under the cut! hbd bby boy muah

this was also highkey inspired by this photoset by memjioof on twt,,,,, so,,,,,,,,,,,,

Satan was never a fan of his birthday. It was a reminder of his origin, where he came from, and he wasn’t happy about it. Not at all, when everyone is in his face indirectly reminding him that he’s not his own person, that he’s simply an extension of someone else.

‘Never a fan’ is an understatement. Satan very, truly, genuinely, hated his birthday.

That is, until you came along.

In all honesty, Satan dreaded this day more than any other. He’d hoped that you’d just not find out, that he could bypass this day in peace and not have to worry about any frivolous displays, which all became inadvertent reminders that he’s not his own person.

Satan’s also not an idiot, though. He’s seen you sneak around, whispering to his brothers as the days continue to pass. He’s watched as you’d stop conversations with them abruptly, looking like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar. It worried him at first, that you were going behind his back and keeping secrets, that you were being dishonest with him and seeking others to make up for what he lacks. You’re too genuine for that though, he knows this. If you were looking for others, you’d ensure to tell him first and to put an end to whatever the two of you had together now. His anxieties were completely quelled when you began not-so-subtly asking him if he was interested in any new books or charms. Instead, they were replaced with a completely different feeling.

‘Excited’ was a name for it, but it didn’t feel quite right. ‘Nervous’ also worked, but there were a few gaps it didn’t fill. ‘Anticipation’, maybe… or perhaps even ‘restlessness’. Regardless, Satan began feeling jittery whenever he thought about it, whenever he thought about spending his special day with you. It was.. different. New. For the first time in millennia, Satan found himself feeling something other than complete and utter apprehension towards the celebration of his birthday.

Could it even be called a birthday? He was never born, unlike his brothers. Hell, for a good portion of his life, he couldn’t even do anything, only watch through the eyes of the man he loathed the most. And yet…

He found himself filled to the brim with joy at the thought of spending this day with you. Only you.

In fact, surprising even himself, he’d taken you for walks in the city, watching the gears turning in your brain as you silently pondered what to get for him. He felt damn near giddy, stringing you along like this, watching your eyes light up whenever he showed interest in something. It made him really happy to see you care so much for him. Of course, he did his best to hide it, but even he couldn’t deny that this was the happiest he’d ever been at this time of the year.

And his brothers were terrified.

Usually, when this time began to roll around again, Satan’s already short fuse became even shorter, he was a powder keg about to explode at any given moment. He’d lock himself in his room, and if anyone were to disturb him, they’d have to be ready to bear his wrath, unchecked and untamed. Satan had never once celebrated his birthday after the first time the brothers all tried to plan a surprise party for him, and in one fell swoop, he destroyed the decorations, as well as the room with it.

Yet… Satan was happy. And smiling. Even humming as he cooked, which never happened.

“L… Lucifer…” Mammon pushed the door of his older brother’s room open, stepping in like a dog with its tail between its legs. “I dunno what’s going on, but--”

“I know.” Lucifer was sitting at his large desk, elbows resting on the fine wood, hands entwined with themselves. He let out a long sigh, taking a moment to think.

Mammon walked in a bit more, only taking a quick moment to scan the room for valuables. At the feeling of Lucifer’s piercing eyes on him, however, he diverted his attention.

“Well, what do we do? Last time we had a party, it didn’t really… end up well.” Mammon winced at the memory. He’d had to prune his wings constantly for weeks after that, lest he never fly again.

Lucifer closed his eyes for a moment, the usually unmovable demon looking rather shaken. He’s contemplated this a lot, and Mammon knew it was really worrying his brother when he moved over to sit on the edge of the mahogany desk, and Lucifer didn’t say anything. The room was silent, almost too silent, and Mammon began to fiddle with the feather charm attached to his belt.

There was the sound of yet another sigh, and Lucifer’s eyes caught Mammon’s once more. The latter froze.

“I… I may have an idea.”

Mammon sensed his impending doom.

Satan knows when his brothers are scheming, but for once it seems he’s not included. Irritating.

Even so, they’ve been leaving you two alone much more than usual, so he couldn’t find it in himself to complain all that much. Now, with your head in his lap as he reads a tome, he finds it doesn’t bother him at all.

“Hey, Satan?” Your voice pulls him from his book and he looks down to you, a soft expression on his lips. His fingers, rested in your hair, massage your scalp gently. You hum.

“If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”

Satan laughs quietly, setting the tome down to give you his full attention. You’ve been asking questions like this all week, and he knows exactly why. Nevertheless, he humours you. A warm blush dusts his cheek as he prepares his answer.

“You.”

Short, simple, but truer than anything he’s said before. He can’t help the growing fondness in his heart as he watches you pause, taken aback by his answer, before the most loving of smiles graces your lips. He’s so, irrevocably, in love with you.

“I-- uh,” you stutter, and he laughs. “That’s not fair! Besides, wouldn’t you like to have a book more? Or maybe something more entertaining...” You trail off as you think, but the red on your cheeks gives away your thoughts easily enough. Satan’s lap grows cold as you lift your head, but his momentary disappointment is whisked away when he watches your face get close to his own, your noses near millimetres from touching. Your eyes are trained on his, studying closely. His own crinkle with joy.

“Nope, not really. A book can entertain me for a few days, but you could entertain me for a lifetime.” Once again, Satan laughs wholeheartedly as you huff, pulling away from him and crossing your arms. You’re so fun to tease.

“But really, I don’t want anything other than you.” His voice quiets to a murmur. “It’s kind of embarrassing to say, but it’s the truth.” Satan’s cheeks are the beautiful shade of red that you’ve come to love, but the look in his eyes is earnest and genuine. Despite still being just a bit frustrated at his incredibly unhelpful response, you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips. Satan meets you halfway, smiling into the kiss.

“You’re the worst,” you mumble, feeling his breath against your lips. He chuckles quietly.

“I know.”

Satan’s glad that his brothers have been leaving you alone. As the day of interest approaches, however, your attention gets more and more divided, until he realizes that the only time he sees you is during meals.

“____, would you like to--”

“Sorry brother dearest, I already called dibs!”

Satan watches with disdain as Asmodeus takes your arm, already pulling you away. An apologetic smile crosses your face, your lips shaping an “I’m sorry” before you’re pulled out of sight. Satan grumbles, fists balling up so tight that he can feel the sharp pain of his fingernails digging into his palms. Everyone who was left in the dining room quickly made their way out, save for Satan and Lucifer, the former who’s doing his best not to burst, and the latter who’s watching him carefully.

“What do you want?” Satan asks flatly, eyes shifting from the doorway to his eldest brother. Lucifer stands from his chair, adjusting his sleeve collars.

“Nothing. My apologies. I’ll be out of your way.” Lucifer’s reply comes out a lot more genuine than Satan had expected, and he’s pulled from his anger to watch Lucifer leave the room, completely aghast. It takes Satan’s usually quick mind a few moments to actually comprehend what just happened, and even then he still just kind of… stands there.

He walks to his room, still in a bit of a daze. He runs into none of his brothers on the way there, with the plan to read throughout the night. With you gone, he has no other way to relieve his stress.

Satan would never admit it in a million years, but the knock on his door makes him jump, nearly throwing the novel to the other side of the room. He was too invested in his book. A quick glance at his clock tells him it’s midnight, and the sudden interruption, as well as the lack of you over the past few days, has culminated into a wave of anger that causes him to stomp towards the door, nearly tearing it off its hinges as he swings it open.

“What the fuck--”

“Happy birthday, Satan!” Your smile immediately disarms him and gives him pause, his body a statue as you snake your arms around his waist. He has to pry his hand from the doorknob, now dented in the shape of his fist, before he can reciprocate.

“Sorry if I scared you,” you murmur into his shoulder, squeezing him gently when his arms wrap around you. You lift your head, smiling brightly. Satan doesn’t seem to remember the anger he’d felt mere moments before.

“You didn’t,” he hums, before placing a kiss on your forehead. “I’m glad to see you, feels like it’s been a while.”

“Sorry.” You let go of him, much to his dismay, but he watches happily as you make your way into the room with a familiarity similar to his own. You plop yourself on the bed, before opening your arms and looking at him expectantly.

“I don’t have a present,” you begin, a slight blush dusting the highs of your cheeks, “but if you’d like, I can stay up all night with you doing whatever you want?”

“Whatever I want, hm?” A mischievous smirk crosses Satan’s face, but morphs to a genuine smile when you nod hesitantly. “I see. I want you, then. All night long.” His voice lowers as he draws closer, and he can hear your heart speed up. Satan climbs onto the bed and watches as you stiffen, but lays down next to you, taking you into his arms. Your face is against his chest, and you can feel him trying to steady his breath.

“Couldn’t help but want to tease you, sorry,” he chuckles, and you lift the covers over both of your bodies. The room is silent but comfortable. The two of you get comfortable in each others’ arms, and Satan sighs happily.

You pause, lifting your head to look up at him. He meets your eyes, curiosity in his gaze.

“... Seriously? This is it?”

Satan laughs, his entire face lighting up. Your chest aches. When he calms, he raises a hand to cup your cheek.

“This is it. I’ve… I’ve missed you all week.”

You hum, placing your hand on his. He closes his eyes for a moment.

“I’ve missed you too,” you whisper.

Soon enough, you hear as his breath slows and steadies itself. For a bit, you watch his face, a truly open, vulnerable expression that only you get to see. A gentle kiss is pressed to the corner of his eye, before you snuggle up close to him, allowing sleep to take you over.

Morning comes too early, Satan thinks. And yet, with morning comes alertness, and when he’s alert he can watch you, cuddled up against him closely, so maybe it’s okay.

He also watches as consciousness slowly sneaks its way into your bones, your eyes crinkling as you try and will yourself back to sleep. He breathes out a laugh. Eventually, your bleary eyes open and meet his, and the sleepy smile on your face is enough to fill his heart for the rest of his life.

He hopes he can see this every morning.

The two of you stay in bed pretty much all day, just talking and enjoying each other’s company. Satan is much softer than usual, which is saying a lot, and you’re absolutely eating up all of the attention. As the hours fly by, however, eventually you glance at your D.D.D. and sit up in a panic.

“What’s wrong?” Satan sits up as well, glancing over at you worriedly.

“I’m hungry!” You seem a lot more panicked than usual, and Satan’s brows furrow. He hums thoughtfully. “It’s dinnertime, you know? We’ve only eaten snacks all day!”

Your laugh is a bit too forced, and Satan immediately knows what’s going on. He grumbles.

“Are you actually hungry?” He asks, situating himself so he’s right in your face. You meet his eyes, and the worry on your face disappears.

You nod.

“Mhm,” you smile, pecking his nose before standing out of bed. Satan groans dejectedly but eventually climbs out as well. “Fine, fine,” he relents, pulling on a shirt. “But we’ll come right back after, okay?”

“Okay!” Your smile compels him to write sonnets. That has to wait, though.

Eventually, the two of you make your way towards the dining room. As soon as you’d left the bedroom, you’d been jittery. All of a sudden you’d stopped talking and Satan squeezes your hand reassuringly. He knows what’s going on, but for your benefit, he keeps quiet. The two of you turn into the dining room, and he’s genuinely surprised.

“I know you don’t really like celebrating your birthday,” you start, your voice shy. He wants to kiss you right here. “But I hope this is okay!”

The dining room is filled with his favourite foods, all lined up on the large table in the centre. Better yet, his brother’s are all sitting quietly. Even Beelzebub, who seems to be drooling over the food. Best of all, Lucifer is nowhere in sight. Satan smiles, before taking you to the table, pulling out a chair for you before sitting down beside you.

“Happy birthday, bro. Figured ya wouldn’t wanna celebrate, but ______ insisted,’ Mammon smiles nervously, but the look on Satan’s face reassures him. The tension in the room eases at once, and Satan hums.

“If that’s the case, then I guess just this is okay. Thank you.” As soon as Satan reaches for the food, everyone else begins to eat. Beelzebub, who felt like he was being tortured, grins happily as he fills his plate and stuffs his mouth. You glance over at Satan, and the smile is still on his lips.

“I have one more surprise for you,” you say quietly, leaned in towards him. “But I promise you’ll like it.”

“Oh?” Satan laughs quietly, lifting his fork up to your lips. You take a bite of the morsel on the end of it, and his smile grows. “I can’t wait, then.”

Your heart is pounding as you make your way towards Satan’s room, having separated from him after dinner. You’d mentioned you had to grab something from your room, and the box was now clutched in your sweaty palms. It’s not that you and Satan had never done anything like this before, but it’s the first time incorporating other… elements into it. You hope he likes it. You’re sure he will, but there’s a part of you that continues to worry regardless.

The door to Satan’s room opens before you get to knock, and your eyes open wide. Satan can’t help but laugh, apologizing for startling you. His attention is quickly captivated by the beautiful box in your hands, a lovely, luminescent green bow on the top.

He tilts his head, but you walk in without saying much. He shuts the door behind you, and watches your form curiously.

“Do you mind if I open your present for you?” The nerves in your voice are enough to start to worry him, and he simply nods. You make your way over to his bathroom, taking the gift with you, and Satan is left incredibly confused. He watches the door to his bathroom close, and he sits on the bed. He was rather excited for tonight, but the way you’re acting has him feeling nervous. As soon as you step out of the bathroom, however, he understands exactly why you were so quiet.

“Happy Birthday,” you smile gently, an arm crossed over your torso. Satan swallows hard as he looks you up and down, and is completely overwhelmed for a moment. Your breasts are so lovingly hugged by a white lace brassiere, ribbons in the back keeping it snug to your torso. Your matching underwear is attached by garters to thigh-highs, the elastic at the top squishing your thighs just right. Satan licks his lips, craving to hold you. That’s not what captured his attention, however. No, what truly got him excited was the cute cat ears adorning your head, the same colour as your hair, and the bright green collar tight around your neck. You stand there nervous but excited as Satan drinks in your appearance, and the muscles in your thighs tense as he begins walking towards you.

“I’m not one for birthdays or presents, but...” one of Satan’s hands comes to rest on your waist, sliding down to tease the top of your underwear. The other hand coasts up your arm, before he slips two fingers under the side of your collar, tugging gently. “... This is a more-than-welcome surprise.”

Satan feels as if he could devour you in one bite. You look downright delectable, and a part of him is overwhelmed. Where does he start? He’s typically one to savour his meals, especially when they’re as delicious as you, but he also wants to have you as many times as possible. He looks into your eyes as he contemplates, watching the wavering of your irises, and he can’t help himself when he leans down into your lips, still tugging onto your collar.

The hand on your hip grips you tightly as Satan claims your mouth, and you sigh into the kiss. This whole thing was pretty nerve-wracking, but his response is more than happily received. A breathy moan leaves your mouth as Satan bites down on your lip, withdrawing.

“Now, my pretty little pet. Will you allow me to indulge in my present?”

With the way Satan is treating you, you could almost believe it’s actually your birthday, not his. With your back on the bed, your hands tangle into his hair, his fingers just barely brushing against your most sensitive area as he licks and sucks on your clit. Already, your body is covered in hickies, from your jawline to all the way down your left leg, where the garter has been torn off and the thigh-high ripped apart and laying in threads on the floor. Once again, his fingers push into you, coated in arousal. His lips pop off of you, and you whine.

“What, pet, have I left you wordless? You’re being so good for me,” he smiles, and if your slick wasn’t coating his chin you’d almost believe he’s being genuine. Still, he thrusts his fingers into you, and you have to gasp for air before speaking.

“S-Satan,” you sigh, your hands moving up to grip the pillow beneath your head. He’s been teasing you for what feels like hours already, and all he’s done for himself is take his shirt off. You crave to feel him, crave to touch him, and yet he won’t let you. Satan laughs, withdrawing his fingers from you to put them to your lips. You open your mouth and he sticks them in, humming happily when he feels you cleaning his fingers diligently.

“What? It’s my birthday, isn’t it? I can do whatever I’d like with my present.” Satan chuckles as you look up at him imploringly. He presses his fingers farther into your mouth, down your throat, and makes sure you gag before pulling them away.

“You haven’t even let me do anything to you yet.” You sound almost as if you’re pouting, and Satan can’t help the pride that flares up in his chest. You’re so good to him. “Please, wanna make you feel good.” You’d squeeze your thighs together, but Satan had lodged his body between your legs. He takes a moment to think, before smiling.

“Make me feel good then, kitten,” is all the permission you get before he pulls away, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Quickly, you get up, legs trembling. His fingers and tongue have edged you enough to get you desperate for relief, and yet you still wish to make sure he’s taken care of. Satan can’t help but smile at the thought. You manage to make your way off the bed and between his legs, hands shaky as you undo his belt and pull his pants down.

Satan is hard, incredibly so, and you feel more parched than you ever have in your life. Quickly, you pull his cock out of his briefs, and the freedom causes him to suck in a breath through his teeth. Usually, this is where you tease, where you lick at the head of his cock and don’t take him in until he’s damn near begging, but this time you do so without prompting. You ease your way down to the base and Satan’s hand, careful of the ears adorning your head, makes its way into your hair, tugging on it to guide your head. When your eyes flick up they see he’s already watching you, and you take him as far as you can go. Satan allows you to pull back, but soon enough he’s guiding your rhythm, fucking your throat quickly. The sounds filling the room are nothing short of sinful.

“Fuck, pet,” he gasps out, head tilted back. Satan is doing his best to stop from moaning, but he can’t help the grunts that leave his chest as your hot mouth moves around him. His grip on your hair is almost painful, and you can feel your throat growing more and more raw each time he fucks into you. “You’re so fucking good for me, aren’t you? You-- ah-- are just doing whatever I want.” Satan curses once more, heaving breaths. Your hands, placed on his thighs, feel the muscles in his body tense, as do yours. Fuck, you want to cum. You don't even notice that you’re wiggling your hips, seeking any kind of friction.

“Mm, kitten,” he moans, and his hips stutter for a moment. Tears fall from your eyes as he forces you down to the base, and it takes everything you have not to gag. You moan around his cock, and he chokes out a breath. You tap on his thighs after a few seconds, and he pulls your mouth off of him completely, panting hard. “You’re so obedient, doing exactly what I want.” His hand moved from your mussed hair down to your cheek, which he strokes gently with his thumb.

Satan takes a few moments to calm himself down, before guiding you up and onto his lap. His cock, wet and dripping precum, is pressed against both of your stomachs.

“You’re still so wet for me, kitten,” Satan laughs, feeling your slick against his leg. His hands move to your hips and press you down against his thigh, and your air leaves you quickly in the form of a breathy moan. He flexes his muscles as he slowly grinds you against him, and you grasp desperately at his shoulders. “Did you get off on me fucking your throat? Hm?” A shiver runs up your spine as his nails press crescent shapes into your skin.

“You perfect little slut,” he smiles, leaning in to kiss you. Despite the composure he pretends to have, you can tell by the way that his lips desperately claim yours that he’s feeling just as needy as you are. You scratch down his back and he moans into your mouth. “Just for me, mm?” His kisses trail down to your neck again, where he bites down gently on your skin. Between his words, his thigh grinding against you, and however long he spent edging you before, the coil in your stomach has grown incredibly tight.

“Satan, I--” You cut yourself off with a desperate moan and he snickers, licking at the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“Cum then, pet. Cum on my thigh like the beautiful little slut you are.”

Your stomach grows unbelievably tight, and once again you feel him laugh against your skin. One of his hands comes down to begin quickly rubbing your clit in circles, and that’s all it takes for the coil in your belly to snap. There’s a moment of calm, relief, before your orgasm crashes into you, and you desperately hold onto Satan as he presses you down onto his thigh once more. You cry out something that he supposes is his name, but your voice is too coated in pleasure for him to actually make sense of the words. He lifts his head to watch your face, before leaning in to meet your lips once more. You’re gasping for breath, which makes it difficult, but he enjoys it even more because of that.

“Perfect… you’re so beautiful.” The look in his eyes is nothing short of loving as he begins manoeuvring both you and himself properly onto the bed. You’re still a bit hazy from the intensity of the orgasm, but you manage to take his hints. Soon enough, you’re rested on your knees and elbows on the bed, and Satan is pressing kisses to your ass.

“You’re dripping down your thighs, pet,” he hums against your skin, using his fingers to collect some of your arousal. Without warning, he plunges his fingers into you once more, and you gasp out a moan.

“Satan, please, I…” Your voice trails off as you breathe in, short on air. Your cunt clenches around nothing as you wiggle your hips, hoping to goad him into finally filling you up. It’s all you can think about, he’s all you can think about, and you’ve stopped caring completely about pride.

“I, fuck Satan, I want you so bad.” You feel him pause, and the smile that crosses your lips is unintentional. “Please, baby, please fill me up with your cock. Please, I-- I want you so bad, want it so bad.”

That seems to be enough to get what you want. You hear Satan move behind you, and soon enough the tip of his cock rests against your slick opening. Both of you let out a shaky breath, and you can feel Satan lean over you. Once again, his fingers hook onto your collar and he tugs, cutting off your air supply just enough to fully grab your attention.

“I’m going to take you now,” he hums, slowly pushing himself inside. “Gonna mark that pretty little cunt and make it all mine. Gonna make sure no one else wants you afterwards, because you’re going to smell like me, inside and out.” To emphasize his words he pushes into you completely, and you cry out at the feeling, squeezing around him so deliciously. He pulls on your collar harder, and you gasp for air. Satan wastes no time in starting a relentless pace, hitting the deepest parts inside of you. His grip on the collar loosens when you get lightheaded, but he never lets go. That mouthwatering press against your throat has you tightening around Satan, and he grunts out. He’s about to speak when you grind back against him, meeting his thrusts, and a muddled string of words leave his lips instead.

“Fuck,” you can tell Satan’s composure is slipping, and your body sings with anticipation. The room is filled with your moans, his panting, and the sound of skin slapping against skin. Satan uses his free hand to pull you up off of your arms, raising your torso so the two of you are kneeling. In this position, he can fondle you so much easier, and he fully takes advantage of it, massaging your breast harshly and tugging on your nipple. You cry out after a particularly rough thrust, and once again feel the pleasure pooling low in your stomach. Satan bites into your shoulder, and the hand that was pulling on your collar moves down to your clit once more, rubbing you just the way you like it.

Satan grunts and your body jerks, the pleasure becoming damn near overwhelming. “You’re so fucking slutty,” he groans, and you know that he’s not trying to keep up appearances anymore. His cock thrusts into you faster, harder, and you feel your body grow impossibly tight. “Gonna breed you, gonna claim you, gonna make you all fucking mine.” The words are forced out, pants and moans interspersed throughout. He growls, directly in your ear, and you’re so close, so damn close.

“Gonna make it so that no one else wants you.” Satan curses loudly, and the sound is music to your ears. You can’t think at all, and the only thing spilling from your lips are moans and garbled versions of his name. “Fuck, I love you so much,” he breathes out, and that’s your breaking point. Once again you feel as climax overwhelms your body, and your mind is filled with nothing but thoughts of Satan. His thrusts, rough and erratic, have completely lost any sense of rhythm. In your pleasure addled brain, all you know to do is egg him on, get him to feel as good as you do.

“Please baby, f-fuck, Satan, please. Fill me up.” His fingers move back up to loop around your collar and he pulls hard, just as you were about to speak more. Your words stop abruptly, and the sounds of you trying to speak push him over the edge. Satan’s hips stutter, before pausing completely. Warm cum fills your insides and you sigh at the feeling, almost relieved when Satan lets go of you. You fall onto your hands on the bed, bones feeling like jelly. He takes a few moments to regain his composure, before pulling out with a low groan. You collapse, exhausted, and he laughs quietly.

“You did so well for me, kitten. You always do,” he smiles, dropping his body onto the mattress next to you. He knows the two of you need to get clean, and he knows that his sheets should be washed, but he’ll do that in a bit. For now, he takes you into his arms, your bare skin hot against his own. You sigh happily, eyes closed.

“No sleeping yet, beautiful. I haven’t indulged in my present to the full extent.” His smirk is mischievous. Maybe you can go for a few more rounds. It is his birthday, after all.

Many hours later, Satan finds himself clean, fully dressed, and on the way back from the laundry room after dropping his sheets off. The House of Lamentation is dead silent, and Satan is still on a high from his birthday present. How could he not be? He’s fully satiated, relaxed, and happier than he’d been in a while. Not only that, but you’re waiting for him in his bed, curled up in his sheets, smelling like his body soap. He has every single reason to feel over the moon.

Except something weighs on him. It’s easy to ignore for the most part, but when he passes by the library and hears the slow, melancholy melody of a song he knows all too well, he stops.

Ugh, fuck, okay... fine.

Satan groans to himself as he walks into the library, making his way to the large door on one of the walls. He knocks gently, and when he’s met with no answer, he enters anyway. Pride be damned.

Lucifer looks over, surprised by having a visitor and even more surprised by who it is. He doesn’t speak, only watching as Satan enters the room, taking only a few steps in.

Neither of them says anything, watching each other, waiting for someone to make the first move. It ends up being Satan, who sighs.

“Thank you. For today.”

Lucifer is taken completely aback. Placing his hand on his chest he sits up straight, shaking his head.

“I don’t know what--”

“Shut up.” Lucifer’s anger swells for a moment, but he takes a deep breath to calm down. Satan doesn’t seem to care. “I know you helped _____ with all of this. It was probably your idea to begin with.”

Lucifer doesn’t reply, and that is enough to confirm Satan’s suspicions. He runs a hand through his hair, before crossing his arms.

“So… Thanks. I’m going to bed now.”

Satan turns on his heels and begins walking out the door, but is stopped when Lucifer calls out, his voice warmer than Satan has ever heard.

“Happy birthday, brother.”

Satan stands in the doorway a moment, looking at the floor. Once again, he sighs.

“Go to bed. You look like shit,” he replies, before shutting the large office door behind him. He almost, almost, misses the sound of his eldest brother’s laugh bouncing off the walls.

Maybe birthdays aren’t all that bad.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

The Little Things in Life - 4

Warnings: cheating, non-consent sex (series); not the sex you’re expecting but it’s the sex you get.

This is dark!Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Summary: Your suburban life begins to show cracks and your next door neighbour, Steve Rogers, seems intent on shattering what’s left.

Note: So I didn’t write at all yesterday. Dunno if I will today. My anxiety’s through the roof and I’m sorry to everyone waiting on different things. I see the asks and I’m doing my best. TBH I’m not in the greatest head space but I have up to part 5 done on this. Thanks to everyone for their feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Based on this drabble

Your escape from the garage was uneventful. You beat Steve in the fourth match and excused yourself to the washroom. You hid in there for some time. You stared in the mirror at your glossy eyes. You didn’t look like yourself. You didn’t feel like yourself.

You were careful to avoid Steve for the rest of the night. He didn’t make it easy. Neither did Sharon. She found you in the beach chair staring at the water, a perfect excuse for her husband to get closer. Her husband.

Had you encouraged Steve without knowing? Been too friendly? Well, you would never expect the golden saviour of New York to betray his own wife. His perfect wife! Her blond hair, her long legs, her crystalline eyes. She was his match in everything and he could just do that. And what did you do but whine a little bit?

You found your husband among the crowd and cringed. He was cheating on you. And you just sat there and did nothing. Fucking his boss! Never home to help with Kayla; the most you could get out of him when he was was twenty minutes of distraction. Enough to do the dishes or vacuum the living room. You hated him. But you still loved him.

You dragged Logan home just after midnight. He was worse off than you. You barely got him up the stairs as he slung himself over your shoulder. He was heavy. He flopped face first into bed, sprawled diagonal across it. You turned his head over the edge and set a bucket beside him.

You slept on the couch. Twenty minutes before you awoke with vertigo and stumbled your way to the bathroom to spill your guts. It burned terribly and you felt as if your chest would collapse with each wretch. You fell back onto the cushions with a grunt and sank into an alcohol-laced slumber.

You woke to a nail in your skull. You sat up and it pushed deeper. You felt awful. Dirty. You looked in on Logan, snoring loudly into the pillow. You showered with a bottle of Tylenol and forced down a tall glass of filtered water. Your phone nearly burst your eardrums as it rang and you picked it up frantically before your head began to buzz again.

It was your mother. She was on her way to the McDonald’s in town. She wanted to take Kayla to the play place. You offered to meet her there to relieve her of her babysitting shift. You drove with sunglasses on and the radio off.

You were thankful when you arrived to Kayla already lost in the plastic tubes. You sat with your mother who shoved a mcmuffin in your direction. You took a gulp of coffee and scarfed down the sandwich.

“Jeez, this reminds me of your college days,” Your mother chided. “Sweats, sunglasses… wild night?”

“Long week,” You groaned and leaned on your elbow as you looked over at the playplace. “How was she?”

“An angel. As usual.” She said. “She was telling me about her friend Steve.”

“Our neighbour,” You mumbled into your coffee. “He’s… nice to her.”

“And you?” Your mother prodded.

You were silent as you set down your cup. You pushed up your sunglasses and rubbed away the dampness around your eyes with your knuckles. You’d not even known you were crying.

“What is it?” She reached across the table.

“Logan…” You sniffed. “He’s sleeping with his boss.”

“No,” Your mother’s breath wisped out of her. “Oh, honey.”

“I saw them a couple days ago and… I don’t know what to do. What to say.” You flipped your glasses back down. “I’m fucking pissed but I’m so fucking terrified.”

“How could he--” You mother huffed. “You know what I would do.”

“Yeah, mum,” You scoffed. “A kick in the balls?”

“And more,” She sneered. “Say the word and I’m going over right now and knocking him--”

“No, no,” You raised your hand. “I’ll… handle it. I just… I’m processing.”

You played with the string of your sweats as you crossed your legs. You thought of Steve and the pool table. You should tell her, but what would you say? You let another man finger you because you were mad at your husband? Two wrongs...

“You know, the guest room’s always open.” Your mother said. “For you and Kayla.”

“Kayla,” You uttered. “I couldn’t… you think he’d take her from me.”

“And what? Sounds to me like he’s so busy messing around, he doesn’t have time for either of you.” She rolled her eyes. “She told me he’s never home. That he’s always on his phone.”

“She’s too honest for her own good,” You shook your head. “Too innocent. I don’t know if I could put her through that.”

“And let her live with festering resent?” Your mother argued. “Look, I’m not gonna tell you what to do, but you can’t do nothing.”

“I know,” You emptied your coffee and picked up a cold hash brown. “Just… don’t say anything.”

“To who?” She asked. “My walls.”

🏠

You pulled up to the house as Kayla played with the little elephant she’d gotten with her meal. As you climbed out and unbuckled her, you spied a familiar figure from your peripheral. You ignored it as you grabbed her bag and helped her out onto the pavement. You closed the door as you tried to keep your daughter on the other side of you.

“Steve!” Kayla peeked past you and waved to your neighbour.

“Kayla, come on,” You tried to nudge her up the walk but Steve was already on his way across the street.

“Hey, you guys,” You turned to him as Kayla ran forward to hug his leg. “Early morning. Surprised you made it past the front door.”

“Yeah,” You kept your eyes averted behind your shades. “Kayla, come on. We gotta go.”

“What’s the plan for today?” Steve asked as you reached for your daughter.

“Family time,” You said tersely.

“Mommy said I can paint butterflies on my wall!” Kayla said.

“Ooh, that sounds fun,” He smiled but barely looked at the girl. His eyes were set on you.

“Kayla,” You pulled her towards the door and unlocked it. “Your father’s upstairs. Go wake him up. I’ll be in in just a second.”

“But I wanna talk to Steve,” She argued.

“Go inside,” You opened the door and waved her in. “You go right upstairs and get your dad.”

She pouted but did as you said. You watch her amble up the carpeted stairs and you turned back to Steve as you heard her calling to Logan. You closed the door and stormed back towards him.

“Look, what happened last night was wrong and I never want to talk about it again,” You hissed. “And… I don’t want to talk to you.”

He smiled and shook his head.

“As far as I could tell you liked it. Wanted it.” He crossed his arms. “You’re just too afraid to admit it.”

“I have a husband.” You snarled.

“Who’d rather fuck some crusty lady in a pants suit than you,” He challenged.

“You have a wife. A newborn.” You scowled.

“I’ve learned a lot of things since I woke up in a whole new century. New lingo.” He tilted his head. “I’m sure you know what a ‘trophy wife’ is.”

“Is that what she is? Maybe you should tell her that.”

“Me and Sharon look good for the public. And for work. Suits never would’ve let me marry a civilian. We make a great little family.” He shrugged. “I gave her a baby. She got what she wanted and so did SHIELD.”

“I don’t believe you,” You said.

“I don’t care if you do. Sharon’s going back within the year. She misses the field. She misses a certain intelligence officer.” Steve said coolly. “It won’t be long before… well.”

“Listen, stay away from me.” You backed away from him. “I have enough going on.” You turned and grasped the door handle, paused as you looked back at him. “I can’t believe you. I really thought you were someone else.”

“Hey, I never said the propaganda wasn’t effective,” He winked. “I’ll see you around.”

You pushed inside and quickly closed the door. You pulled back the narrow curtain to look out through the frosted glass of the door. Steve’s hazy figure lingered until finally he retreated. Kayla’s voice drew you away.

“Mommy,” She called down the stairs. “Daddy’s sick.”

🏠

Logan was in bed for most of the day “recovering”. You left him to his sulking and helped Kayla paint her butterflies. The few times you passed by the room, you peeked through the small space between the door and the frame. He had his phone out. You could guess who he was texting. If you asked, he’d say work and it wouldn’t be an all out lie.

You put Kayla to bed and spent an hour in the living room watching re-runs before you found the nerve to go upstairs. Logan had a video running on his phone about homemade axes or some nonsense. You changed into a long tee and climbed into bed. You turned your back to him and closed your eyes.

“Sorry, babe,” He tickled your spine. “I drank way too much yesterday.”

“Mhmm,” You grumbled.

“You mad?” He asked.

“No,” You lied. “Hungover.”

“I should’ve helped with Kayla today,” He moped.

“So why didn’t you?” You snapped.

“You are mad.” He said.

Not about that, you thought.

“I’m just tired.” You said.

“Next weekend, we’ll do something with Kayla together.” He coaxed. “Take her to the aquarium. Oh, and Steve texted me. Him and Sharon want us to come over for dinner on Thursday. I told him I’d try to move some things around at work.”

“Thursday,” You repeated. “Alright.”

“You sure you’re okay?” His hand strayed to your hip.

“I just need to sleep it off,” You tapped his hand. “I’m fine.”

🏠

You woke up not shortly after you fell asleep. It was dark and the bed next to you was empty. You sat up and checked the time. It wasn’t even one in the morning. A slat of light escaped from your attached bathroom and you threw your legs over the edge of the mattress.

You tiptoed to the door and peered in. Logan was naked before the mirror as he held up his phone to take a picture. You wanted to scoff at how he flexed. He wasn’t as fit as he used to be, but neither were you. He snapped the pic and sent it with a devious grin. You saw his screen flash with a response shortly after.

You felt the air rush out of you but could only back away and slink back to bed. It was ten minutes before he returned. He crawled under the blanket and pressed himself to your back. He was hard. His hand tickled your thigh and he played with the hem of your tee shirt.

“Babe,” He cooed gently. “Babe…” He continued as until you pretended to stir. “I forgot to tell you how great you looked yesterday in those shorts.”

“Logan, it’s late,” You grumbled but his hand brushed along your small patch of hair.

“Come on, babe,” He purred as he nuzzled the back of your neck. “It’s been… a while.”

You were quiet as he poked his fingers down and forced them between your legs. You flinched as he pushed on your clit.

“Babe,” He said again.

“Mmm,” You mumbled.

He pushed against you again and you sighed. You arched into him and let him lift your leg. He prodded your entrance and impaled you slowly. It was painful as you were barely aroused. You just wanted to be done with it. You knew he didn’t want you; he’d just gotten himself riled up and needed a release.

When he was at his limit, he gasped. His fingers slid off your clit as he began to thrust and he was toying with the crook of your leg rather than any part of your cunt. You grabbed the corner of your pillow and turned your face into it. He moved faster and faster as he quickly approached his peek.

You held back the tears as he jolted your entire body. You felt the warmth burst inside of you as he gave a pathetic moan. He spasmed a few times and slipped out of you. He rolled onto his back and gave your ass a tap.

“Mmm,” He hummed. “That was good.”

“Y-yeah,” You carefully shimmied to the edge. “I gotta go clean up.”

“Dirty girl,” He purred and you quickly fled to the bathroom, his cum dripping down your thighs.

You closed the door and sat on the toilet. You wiped yourself clean with tissue and let out the pressure which had built in your bladder. Finished, you remained as you were. You hung your head and covered your mouth with your hand as you began to cry. You were such a coward.

#Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #fic #au #dark fic #dark!fic #the little things in life #mcu #marvel #captain america #series #suburban au

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marvellouslymadmim · 3 years

Note

Hey! Aspiring fanfic writer here; I was wondering if you could talk a bit about your writing/editing process and how long it all takes.

Thanks!

Welp, roughly the same extremely long amount of time it takes to actually answer an ask, tbh 🙃

So...I only know how my brain works, and I can only tell you what works for me might not work for you, and that's OK. I'm breaking into two separate bits, because I almost never do writing and editing at the same time.

And as far as a timeline, honestly it just depends. On life factors, what my hormones are doing at the time (jfc like the week before my period, I have zero creativity, motivation, or attention span), if I'm having trouble with a particular scene, if I'm getting consistent positive feedback (yes, I can totally admit that I write faster when I know a particular reviewer is following along with every update), etc.

WRITING:

First, you gotta just...be fixated, I guess. Particularly if it's an AU, I sit with it for a long time before I ever write a word. I go over scenes, think about how the world changes, what stays the same, what *has* to stay the same to keep the characters true to their canon personalities. I sit with the characters for a long time, too--not just the main characters, but the supporting cast, too. In order to predict someone's future, you have to know their past. Most of our present actions are actually reactions to past events, when you think about it. The better you know your version of the character, the easier every other aspect of writing will be. I don't know how it is for other people, but I don't ever "feel" like I'm writing. I feel like I'm "witnessing", and the characters are simply doing whatever they wish. (***this is gonna be a thing during the editing process, too, so hang on to that)

Then once I have a general idea, I choose a title. Generally, I do not even start a word document until I have a proper title to put on it. The title is part of the theme and aesthetic to me, and it grounds me in the overall arc.

Once that's done, it's time for outlining. I generally wait until I feel this weird almost tingling in my left arm (weirder still bc I'm right handed) and I'm practically vibrating with a need to WRITE THIS STORY NOW. Then I put on some Bear McCreary (honestly, any videogame soundtrack will do, as they are literally designed to help you maintain focus and keep pace) and fucking go to town. For me, it helps to do this with pen and paper, so that I can go back up and squiggle little notes in the margin, rearrange the order, etc, far faster than I could on a computer.

Important note: the outline is not the end-all be-all. Some things don't make it to the final print. Some minor storylines get tossed or characters simply...take a different path than I expect. I will continue re-writing and updating the outline as I go along. On average, I usually have 5-8 outlines per story, and they're often 3-10 pages long. I also have a posted outline, which is a log of all the scenes that did make it to the final product.

Then, it's the actual writing, at long last. I have found that I write best at the start of my day, before the noise and static of daily life comes in. So I wake up around 5am and spend 90minutes writing before beginning my workday routine. I have the Word app on my phone and may continue adding bits in throughout the day at work, if I get a moment. However, after 5pm my brain is usually fried and no more creativity happens. On weekends, I try to have one morning where I "sleep in" til 6am, and then write until at least 10am, sometimes 2pm, if I can get away with it.

The hardest part still is knowing when to transition and when to skip to the next chapter/scene/whatever. This is like...zero percent helpful, but I liken it to Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart's definition of pornography: "I know it when I see it." It may seem like a scene is circling, and sometimes it means you gotta leave the room a bit earlier bc the scene has already served its purpose. Other times, it means ya gotta stay with it a bit longer, because there's something the character is trying to say. Give them patience, and give yourself patience, too. Explore the scene and its dynamics. You won't know til you know and even then, sometimes you won't be entirely sure. That's ok, too. Part of the process. Remember editing will happen and you can decide then (hell, you can literally re-edit after it's been published, I've done that before too and added a note on the next chapter for any readers who might have read the first version 🤷🏻‍♀️ not ideal but still functional).

EDITING:

I do simple edits (spelling, grammar, etc) just about every morning as I reread what I wrote the day before, which is a refresher course for the day's writing session. But big "real" editing generally doesn't happen until right before posting.

Now, here's the ***issue from writing: sometimes, something just "doesn't work" in a scene. Again, you'll know it when you see it. The words a character is saying feels clunky. The pacing feels off. Something just...ain't right. More often than not, it means either I haven't truly sat with a character long enough to know their true motivations/backstory, or I am not giving characters the proper time/space/impediment to make the actions or say the things they're currently making/saying. I'm trying to force the flow, rather than letting it ebb and breathe when it needs to.

Absolute ProTip: You spent HOURS writing this scene. It's got some REALLY GOOD moments and lines in it. It doesn't work but you can't just delete it. It's your LIFE. I struggle with this A LOT, and I have found a solution: create a second "outtakes" document to cut and paste those scenes into. Sometimes I still keep moments or bits of dialog. Sometimes I later use bits in a later scene. Sometimes I never look at it again but I still feel secure in knowing that if I wanted to go back and use the original scene instead, I totally can. I don't think I've actually ever gone back to the original, tbh, but it reduced my anxiety about deleting the scene and starting over.

So back to the scene that doesn't work. I take it apart, figure out *at what exact point* it stops working, then work back up a few lines to see where the shift actually begins. More often than not, it's because I'm having characters express their feelings in ways they actually wouldn't. (people very very very rarely actually say what they're thinking/feeling, and you have to relay it in other ways). So I have to keep the internal monologue of what they're actually feeling/thinking, while figuring out how that actually translates via tone, body language, and what they do and don't say.

The "something ain't working stage" can take LITERAL WEEKS. I sometimes have to walk away for awhile, or tackle it only on days when I know I have hours upon hours to truly work on it. I keep circling back around, and eventually, the knot works itself out. Persistence, and insistence that "good enough" isn't actually good enough, are key. (this is why you have to fixated on the story you want to tell--because some days, it's going to take every ounce of that obsession to keep you going and keep you on the track of telling the story you wanted to tell, rather than settling or switching to an easier tack)

Sometimes, editing is a breeze. I don't change much, I may go a little more into the character's inner world here or there. Once you've been doing this for awhile, you'll just know when a story hits all its marks--and you'll also know when it's not, when it could be more or do more, and you can figure out how to get it there. There isn't a precise formula for it, it's more like cooking without an actual recipe to follow--a dash here, a bit there, you'll know it when you taste it.

And I'll leave you with this unsolicited bit: just write. Write often, write about everything, write what makes YOU passionate and happy, and absolutely write for yourself. Edit the fuck out of it, if you need to. Get a beta reader, if you need to. Get someone to just bounce ideas off, if you need to. And don't post it until you're truly ready and it's something you genuinely want to share. If someone gives constructive criticism, take in on the chin and move on (keep the notes, if you think they're valid, and toss em if you don't--you'll never be everyone's style of writer, so know that sometimes, people just won't be the target audience). Know that you'll grow and you'll learn and you'll find your own voice and like any skill, you'll develop a second nature about it--all those parts where I say "you'll know it when you see it" or "you'll feel it" absolutely come from spending a literal lifetime (28 years) writing stories, and thirteen years of writing fanfic in particular. It's ok if you don't see it or feel it right away. It takes practice. And you will have an audience at every skill level, no matter what (finding that audience? different story altogether...).

All totaled, this process can take anywhere from 3months to over a year. Stories are like children, I've found: they each develop at their own pace, and some may need more time and assistance than others. But they're still pretty wonderful. (except the bratty stories. they're the worst 🙄)

#thanks anon!#asks #writing asks #writing reference #i guess?#i hope it helps!!#fic writing

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barrysjumpsuit · 4 years

Text

the killing in kildare - an outer banks/criminal minds crossover (jj pov)

this came to be thanks to a post by @pixelated-pogues and @poguesoftheobx and tbh my main motivation for this was jj being an asshole to feds

word count: 3k

warnings: mentions of (canon) abuse, some abuse/fighting, mentions of canon murder, this is purely unedited so prob typos and bad grammar idc

summary: following the murder of sherriff peterkin, our favorite BAU team comes in to assist the kildare county police department with their case

a/n: i hate this and rewrote it twice, but here ya go!!! couldn’t make it a true criminal minds bau type case due to the canon but i did my best. also there’s mayward if u squint

---

“We haven’t had a homicide here in ten years,” Deputy Shoupe was explaining as he led the BAU team through the police station. “All sorts of weird shit going down lately. We’re at our wits end.”

“And all this happened after Routledge’s disappearance?” Agent Hotchner asked, weaving his way through desks as Shoupe unlocked the conference room door.

“Yes sir, his kid - also John Routledge, we call him John B - thought he’s out there, but we’ve officially deemed him dead after he didn’t show up after a couple months, now the kid says a local killed him. Have a seat.”

Shoupe gestured to the chairs surrounding the table, and the team sat down, Hotchner and Rossi near the head of the table. They all listened while Shoupe explained what went down over the course of the past year - Big John’s disappearance, which turned out to be linked to his hunt for the gold of the Royal Merchant. Word had it that a man named Ward Cameron, the elite of the island, was responsible, or at least involved. “That statement came from Routledge’s kid, so I’m not sure how true it is,” Shoupe explained.

Turns out, Shoupe believed it was the younger Routledge who murdered Sheriff Peterkin. A local reported him running around, covered in blood. He had become involved in the treasure hunt with his friends, wreaking havoc around the island in the process. There were strange men who reportedly chased the kids, who later turned up dead in someone’s nets, sporting wounds from a gaff hook.

“And now Pete…” Shoupe continued, trailing off. “That kid’s on the loose. We haven’t seen or heard anything about him in a few days. We think he got away, but I still have officers out keeping an eye open.”

It wasn’t the type of case the BAU would normally take on, but it was interesting. A hunt for treasure, mysterious men and local residents turning up dead, and the murder of the Sheriff.

There were a few questions and a brief silence as the team looked over the photos and files they had been given. Morgan finally spoke up, his voice filled with determination. “We’ll find whoever did this.”

JJ laid on the dock, swinging his feet which dangled off the edge. The tips of his boots barely skimmed the water. In one hand, he pinched a joint between two fingers. His eyes were closed, and occasionally he sucked on the joint, enjoying the calmness that overwhelmed his system, easing the anxiety that had been overwhelming ever since he saw John B disappear the night before.

They had finally eased off the search once there was word of his escape. He was out of Kildare County, out of jurisdiction.

With no more cops hanging around, JJ could finally return to the Chateau. He knew he couldn’t go home - his dad had probably realized that JJ had stolen the keys to the Phantom by now, and JJ would be a goner. Being at the Chateau was familiar and comfortable.

Both Kiara and Pope had returned home to be with their families. Ever since two nights before, JJ had been at the Chateau, Kiara having dropped off food from The Wreck to last him a few days.

JJ was too caught up in his thoughts to hear the footsteps making their way down the dock until someone spoke. “JJ Maybank?”

He knew the voice of a cop when he heard it; JJ bolted upright, immediately jumping into the water, his joint long forgotten as he plunged under the water and started swimming.

Arms suddenly wrestled him. “We just want to talk, kid,” someone said, and JJ threw an elbow their way. Whoever had jumped in and grabbed him was too big, and wrestled him back to the dock. “Grab him, Spence.”

Hands pulled JJ back onto the dock. “You’re not in any trouble, JJ.”

JJ struggled in his hold, but more hands were on him, and he knew he couldn’t get away.

“Alright, you got me, congratulations,” he said, throwing his hands up. “John B didn’t kill Peterkin, he didn’t kill anybody.”

“Hold up, kid,” the first man said. JJ saw that they weren’t dressed like normal cops, and the man soon confirmed his suspicions. “My name is Derek Morgan, this is Spencer Reid, we’re with the FBI. We just have a few questions.”

“Ask away,” JJ said, exasperated. He was cornered on the end of the dock by the two agents.

“We’d like you to come with us,” Agent Reid explained. “To take an official statement. You won’t get in any trouble and you’ll be able to leave whenever you want.”

“If your friend is innocent, we want to help him, all right? That’s what we’re here for.”

Maybe it was the weed, or maybe it was the fact that John B was gone and safe. Whatever the case, JJ nodded, allowing the agents to walk him to their SUV to take him back to the police station. He was more than aware of all the looks everyone gave him. JJ greeted them, in typical JJ fashion, and he was brought into an office.

A blonde woman was sitting at the conference table, papers and files spread out before her while she spoke on the phone. JJ recognized the photos of the two square groupers that were killed, hauled up in nets by some fishermen. His stomach turned at the memory of them breaking into John B’s house.

The agent set the phone down onto the table before sticking out her hand. “My name’s Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me JJ. You’re a friend of John B’s?”

JJ laughed. “JJ, that’s a good name, I like it.” He smiled with satisfaction as Jennifer’s face flushed red. “Look at that, we even look alike, we’re both blond bombshells.”

“This is JJ Maybank,” Agent Morgan interjected, a smile tugging on his lips, too.

“Well, all right, JJ. Can you tell us what happened? From the beginning? We found that the officers here tended to have a… biased report, so sorry about that.” Her eyes shifted slowly towards Deputy Shoupe.

“Nah, it’s all good. I have a bit of a reputation here, so that doesn’t surprise me.” JJ couldn’t help but throw a wink towards Shoupe. “Ol’ Shoupe and I here know each other pretty well.”

There was a pang of satisfaction inside JJ as Shoupe sighed. “Just shut up and talk, Maybank.”

“Aight. So, JB’s dad was looking for this gold his whole life, ya know? He went missing at sea about a year ago. Then this month, after Agatha, my friends and I were out fishing and we found a sunk boat. It belonged to Scooter Grubbs, and we were like ‘oh, how did he get his grubby little hands on it?’” he paused, clearly proud of the joke he made. “Anyway. Scooter turned up dead and we found a compass in the boat. It was JB’s dad’s. So we were like ‘holy shit, it’s a ghost compass’. But after we found that compass we were chased by some guys, total square groupers - they tried to shoot us! Then they next day we went to ask Scooter’s wife about it but found the guys there, then they came to JB’s house looking for him and the compass. Then we found a map and tape recorder to John B from his dad in this creepy ass tomb the compass told us to go to, and we knew something was up.”

JJ paused for dramatic effect. Everyone, even Shoupe, was watching and listening intently, Jennifer scribbling down notes as a tape recorder played on the table. Agent Morgan was visibly amused by JJ’s storytelling.

He continued with the story. “So we found the shipwreck, right? But there wasn’t anything on it. So we were like damn, someone beat us to it. But then John B started mackin’ Sarah Cameron-”

Agent Reid made a confused face at his slang.

“Mackin’. You know, making out, dating, Sarah Cameron. Turns out, there was a letter left by Denmark Tanney. He was the sole survivor and hid all the gold at the Crain house. But this is where it gets good,” JJ said, leaning forward, as if the story wasn’t thrilling enough already. “Ward Cameron must have known that John B was looking for the gold. He had him move into his house and must have overheard him talking to Sarah about the gold. The gold was gone. Ward loaded it up in his plane. While this was happening, John B went to Lana, Scooter’s wife, and she told him everything. About how Big John and Ward were looking for the gold, and they were about to find the merchant, then Ward shoved John and split his head open and dumped him over the side of the boat.”

“We have agents talking to Lana Grubbs right now,” Jennifer said, and JJ nodded vigorously.

“Good. Oh yeah, JB said Ward took him fishing and tried to kill him with a gaff hook. That ring any bells?” JJ looked from Morgan to Reid, and then to Jennifer, who just nodded. “So turns out Scooter found his body and got the compass. Then he was coming back when Aggie hit. After JB found out, he was pissed, man, and we went to the runway to stop Ward from stealing the gold. He was taking it and Sarah to the Bahamas. JB went out to try to stop him. He said Peterkin showed up to arrest Ward, but then Ward’s kid Rafe - he’s a crazy motherfucker - shot Peterkin, John B ran because Rafe was gonna shoot him too, then Ward called our friend Shoupe and said John B shot her and denied everything.”

“Did you witness anything at the airport?” Morgan asked, walking to sit down beside JJ.

JJ shifted uncomfortably, filling with guilt. “No, we ran once Peterkin showed up. I’m on probation. I didn’t need to get caught out there. As far as I know, the only people who were there were Peterkin, Ward, Rafe, John B, and-”

He stopped speaking as Jennifer’s attention was immediately diverted, her eyes locked on something outside the window. JJ’s head whipped around, seeing the one person he never wanted to see ever again. All of his cockiness and charm was gone the second he laid eyes on his father.

“Reid, lock the door,” Jennifer said quietly as Shoupe and Morgan slipped out of the office, leaving the three of them. From outside, JJ could hear yelling, the voices of his father and Shoupe unmistakable.

“Don’t let him anywhere near me,” JJ said suddenly, almost pleadingly.

“Who is that?” Agent Reid asked, and Jennifer nodded as if acknowledging that she was thinking the same thing.

JJ muttered, “My dad,” wheeling his chair out of view from the window.

“We won’t let him near you, okay?” he heard the woman say, and JJ just nodded. “I’m going to call the rest of my team to see how it’s going, you can stay in here. It’s safe here. We’ll be back soon with some more questions for you.”

JJ nodded again, opening his eyes and watching the two agents leave the room, closing and locking the door behind them.

He sat alone for a while before pulling out his phone. He noticed he had several missed calls and texts from Pope and Kiara; he called Pope back, greeted by the frantic sound of his voice. “Dude, where the hell are you!”

“Bro, the FBI is here looking for whoever killed Peterkin,” JJ said, not answering his question.

“You’re talking to them?” Pope asked in a worried but hushed tone. “JJ, you’re actually talking to feds?”

“Hey, they wanna help John B, man. Help him and put away the Camerons.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“I told them everything, Pope. They’re talking to Miss Lana too. Who knows, if you or Kie back me up-”

“JJ!” Pope was yelling now. “JJ, do you know how many laws we’ve broken? No, JJ.”

JJ opened his mouth to say something, but quickly hung up the phone as the door opened and a two stoic, official looking men walked in.

“I’m Agent Hotchner, this is Agent Rossi,” the taller one stated. His tone was flat and hard, and JJ instantly didn’t like him.

“Are you here to take my story again? The recorder’s right there bro, I don’t even think she turned it off.” He pointed to the tape recorder, which was still running.

“No, we’re here to ask if you would happen to know where Rafe Cameron could be hiding.”

“His house? It’s really big, you might want to check everywhere.”

“We did a full sweep of the place,” Agent Hotchner said in the same disinterested tone. “Any friend’s place? Anything like that?”

JJ sighed. “He’s this guy’s bitch. Some basehead named Barry. If my dad’s out there, ask him about where to find him, he buys coke off him. Rafe does, too. The two of them jumped me a few days ago.”

“Do you know where he lives?” the other agent asked, his voice slightly softer. “His father isn’t speaking, we’ve arrested him but can’t find his son.”

“Where’s Ward? I’d like to talk to him.”

“I’m afraid we can’t let you do that, son.” Agent Rossi pulled out the chair next to JJ and sat down. “Where does this Barry guy live?”

JJ sighed. “Shitty little trailer on the west side of Sunshine street. Ironic, huh? Dude’s full of sunshine.” He paused as Hotch watched him through narrowed eyes. “Second place south of the Dollar General, you can’t miss it, it’s a shithole.”

“Thanks, JJ,” Agent Hotcher said, and the two men left, closing and locking the door behind them again.

Sighing, he kicked his feet up onto the chair that Agent Rossi had vacated, rubbing at his temple. He had barely eaten since John B left, and barely slept. His high had worn off, leaving him tired and with a subtle yet persistent headache.

“I want this fuckin’ thing to be over,” he muttered to himself.

A voice made him open his eyes and walk over to the window. Ward Cameron was walking through the main space of the station, his large strides quickly covering ground, followed by two officers. He was yelling at Jennifer, the agent hardly flinching as he berated her. The glass muffled his voice, but JJ could tell he was pulling either the wealth card or the my-daughter-ran-away-from-home card on her.

“Hey Ward!” JJ yelled, pounding his palm against the glass. “Ward!”

The man’s head eventually turned to see JJ, and seconds later, he was at the pane of glass, yelling at him.

“You’re a fucking murderer, Ward!” JJ yelled, ignoring the words Ward was throwing at him. Your friend could have killed my daughter. You ruined her life. You ruined my life. You’re a liar. JJ countered with words of his own. “You killed Big John! You killed those men! You tried to kill my best friend! Your son killed Peterkin! You don’t care about your family, Ward!”

The last sentence made him snap. Jennifer and two officers were trying to restrain Ward, but he shoved them off, picking up and chair and throwing it at the window.

Luckily, the window was made for scenarios like this. Ward couldn’t touch JJ, and both of them knew it. They kept yelling until they finally cuffed Ward, leading him out of view, JJ’s face still pressed against the window, his body shaking with rage.

He flinched as the door opened, and Agent Reid came in, standing in the doorway sheepishly.

“What do you want?” JJ muttered, plopping back down in the chair he had been sitting in before.

The agent shrugged. “Just thought you might want to talk, is all. Nothing you’ll say leaves this room.”

JJ regarded him through squinted eyes, his arms crossed across his chest. “Why do you think I need a therapy session?”

Reid shrugged again. “Thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask. You’ve been through a lot recently. I can tell there’s more going on than what you told us.”

He sighed. “Everything just went to shit so quick. My best friend was framed for murder, he left, and now my dad wants to kill me the first chance he gets. And once they get the Camerons I’ll be expected to resume life as normal.” He threw up his hands for effect. “Life was never normal, life was never good. It’s fucked, man.”

JJ sat with Reid for another hour or two. The small talk had eventually drifted into an awkward silence, broken by more yelling.

“I didn’t do it!” JJ heard from outside the office. He could recognize Rafe’s voice anywhere, and it filled him with rage.

Reid had forgotten to lock the door. In one fluid motion, JJ was on his feet, throwing the door open, running and tackling Rafe, knocking him from the agent’s grasps. Grabbing his shoulders and throwing him against the ground, JJ collapsed to his knees, one on either side of Rafe.

He was helpless with his hands cuffed, and Agent Morgan pulled JJ off Rafe, restraining him. “Easy, big guy,” Morgan said cooly. “We’ve made the arrests, JJ, your friend’s name is cleared. You can get out of here.”

“What?” JJ asked stupidly, looking to a woman he had not yet met. She had long, straight black hair.

“You’re free to leave. Your story matches up with what Lana Grubbs told us, and we were able to recover a gun from the Cameron residence that matched the type used in the murder of Sheriff Peterkin.”

At that, she followed the others, leaving JJ standing in the middle of the police station. He could hear muffled shouts of Rafe, which dissipated after a door slammed.

It was over. JJ almost didn’t know what to do, so he just left.

A body collided with his, then another. He struggled at first, but recognized the arms wrapped around him, and melted into Pope and Kiara’s embraces.

“They made the arrests,” JJ found himself saying. “JB’s gonna be okay.”

tagging @jellyfishbeansontoast @pixelated-pogues @kookkyra @poguesoftheobx @shawnssongs @stargazingstarkey @letsgofullkook @jjmaybcnks @ims0golden @jjsmentalpolaroids @queenk00k @sortagaysortahigh @thegreatestofheck

#outer banks #criminal minds #jj maybank #marie writes

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writing-for-amusement · 4 years

Text

Commission for Confidence, 11

Summary: Y/N has been struggling with her self-esteem for years. After incessant pushing from your best friend, Y/N decides to commission an artist to draw her, expecting everything to happen via Internet. However, when your phone is stolen, you try to cancel the commission, but Peter Parker has other ideas. He quickly becomes enraptured by you, and a friendship forms easily. Will it lead to something more? Or will your past fears get in the way?

A/N: The long awaited chapter! I’m so sorry, you guys, I know that I left a lot of you waiting. This semester completely wiped out everyone I know (even people that attend other universities have been like, ‘yeah this semester was the worst’), and I’m really going to try to get stuff out during break! This chapter might not be as long as I wanted it to be, but I figured, why not give you guys something with actual substance? (It didn’t have much in the way of substance until like 10 minutes ago lmaoooo) Anyways, here it is, let me know what you think and what you think should happen next!

Also, I’m taking some one-shot requests! Send me an ask; I’d prefer if they were winter/holiday themed, just for the heck of it, but you can ask for anything! (Send me nsfw requests tbh, I’m raring to write some)

As always, a strikethrough means that the tag didn’t work

Permanent Taglist: @pparkerwrites, @jordyns-library, @natblidaclexa, @peterseuphoria, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @beccaboo929, @softrdj, @icecoldban, @paintballkid711

CFC Taglist: @scatterbrainedgenius, @wildlfirecracker, @pastlives-purplesouls, @maybemona, @hotchocolattee, @willowtree42095, @134340-cm, @this-is-just-for-fanfic-lmao, @poc-gotbang, @sincereleygmg, @toastedpopsicles, @imstupidsblog, @casual-vaporwave, @xfangirl-trashx, @thefutureartteacher, @randomkpoplover97, @spaghetittiesbcimgay

Word Count: 3529

Warnings: some minor injury stuff, cuteness, some fluff, some anxiety/self-esteem things (v minor), things get a little steamy

Two weeks later, you were mostly healed, and you had been talking to Peter nearly nonstop. You had been able to meet up for coffee very briefly, and occasionally he would send you the works in progress he was creating to get some feedback. Peter also gave you written updates about your commission, but he hadn’t sent you any drafts.

You were getting ready to go to bed on a Wednesday when someone knocked on the window of your fire escape. Quickly grabbing your steel baseball bat, you hesitantly walked from your bedroom to your living room. Your other hand was holding your phone, poised to call the police. But your fear was unnecessary.

Spider-Man was waiting next to your window, his eyes widening as he saw you approach. You could tell that he was grinning at you, and you made sure to obviously roll your eyes at the superhero. Instead of unlocking the window, you stood next to it and feigned thinking about letting him in.

Spider-Man tapped again, and you could tell, just on instinct, that he was pouting at you. So, you gave in, unlocking the window and opening it for him.

“Thanks,” he said with the weird voice changer. “Thought I’d freeze out there.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed playfully, “it’s not that bad. I’m sure you generate a lot of body heat anyway, especially with that suit.”

“Maybe,” he chirped. “You tell me.”

Then, he was wrapping you in his arms in a hug, and your brain briefly short circuited. After a moment of thought, you hugged him back, trying to calm your pounding heart, and trying to register if he did run hot.

He did run hot, and as you didn’t want to move away, you cursed yourself for being touch starved all the damn time.

“You do,” you said into his chest, your voice muffled.

“That’s what I thought. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t cold,” he stated happily, not moving to let you go. His heartbeat was steady in your ear, and the longer he was wrapped around you, the more he seemed to relax.

“You alright, Spider-Man?” you found yourself asking.

“Yeah,” he sighed slightly, shifting a bit. “Just tired, you know? There isn’t too much crime going on lately, but that makes it feel like the other shoe is about to drop, ya feel?”

You huffed a chuckle into his chest and tilted your head up to look at him. “I understand what you mean.”

“What about you? How are things going with that guy you told me about?”

You sighed into his chest lightly before saying, “He’s one of my best friends.”

“But?”

“I don’t know, Spider-Man, that’s all I’ve got. I really like him, he’s a wonderful friend and a wonderful person. I doubt he’d be romantically interested in someone like me.”

“Not this again,” Spider-Man groaned slightly. “You’re wonderful, Y/N.”

"I know that,” you told him. “But I think he’d be more interested in someone else.”

“You don’t know that.”

You shrugged again, finally pushing away from him. “Like I said before, people aren’t really interested in me.”

“You don’t know that, either.”

“You don’t know that people are romantically interested in me.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow. “Other than the statistical probability, how do you know? Huh, Spider-Man?”

“I’m interested in you,” he said quietly, almost sheepishly.

You blinked in surprise before letting out a laugh that you hoped would mask your pounding heart. “Thanks, Spider-Man. That actually does make me feel a bit better. Do you want some water or something?”

As you turned to go into the kitchen, Spider-Man grabbed your hand and essentially twirled you into his chest. You looked up at him in surprise as he tilted his head down to press your foreheads together.

“I mean it,” he admitted softly.

Your heart pounded in your veins as you placed your hands on his chest. He was so familiar somehow, so comforting. You were unsure of how to react and your skin felt like it was on fire, so you did the most logical thing. Tilting your head to the side a bit, you pressed a kiss to his masked cheek.

Spider-Man’s eyes, which had closed during the forehead press, opened quickly, going almost comically wide. He saw you pointedly avoiding his white gaze, your lip between your teeth nervously. After a few more moments of silence, you broke away from him and cleared your throat.

“I, um, sorry,” you stuttered slightly, walking into the kitchen. You grabbed a glass of water and gulped it down, sighing in relief as it cooled your throat.

As you turned around, you saw Spider-Man right behind you. His mask was pulled up over his nose, and you could see his lips. He stepped closer to you and your body was frozen. Your heart, however, was setting your skin on fire.

Spider-Man pressed his lips against yours softly. When you responded in kind, he was suddenly kissing you hungrily, as if he’d wanted to for as long as he’d been alive. He wrapped strong arms around your waist and squeezed as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Kissing the superhero felt so… right.

After a few more moments of passion, Spider-Man pulled away from you. What you could see of his face was flushed adorably, in an achingly familiar way. He yanked his mask back down and you could hear the difference in his breathing because of the voice altering device he had in his mask.

It did hurt a little bit, in the corner of your heart, that he still wouldn’t use his real voice with you when you had just been making out, but you pushed it away. Swallowing dryly, you felt like the world was just a little sharper.

“I, um, I’m so sorry,” he stuttered. “There’s a… big thing going on right now, a robbery. I have to go, I’m so sorry, I promise I don’t kiss and run.”

Words were escaping you, so you simply nodded. He beamed at you through the mask before pressing a kiss to your forehead and hurrying to the window. After wrenching it open, he was gone into the night.

You stared after him for a few moments before you slowly made your way to the window. The cool air wafted over your burning skin; you savored the moment of relief as you filed the event away in your mind.

Shutting the window, you went to a cold, empty bed. Alone.

The next few days were uneventful. You went to work, ate food. You texted Peter, even talked for a few hours on the phone for no reason, but that was it. Nothing major happened, and Spider-Man didn’t visit you.

On Saturday night, you were curled up on your fire escape and reading a book in the light of your reading lamp. You were aware that it was getting late, but you were too engrossed in your book to really care. Not only that, but you were incredibly comfortable under your fuzzy blanket.

A body landed on your fire escape and you let out a yelp of surprise, scrambling to your feet and holding your hand over your chest. The body was still in the shadows, but you raised your large book in your hands to throw, just in case.

A weak chuckle made its way to your ears on the wind. “It’s me,” Spider-Man said.

“Jesus Christ, Spidey!” you swore, taking the two steps needed to be closer to him.

He chuckled again, the voice changer off and making him sound too familiar. “Hope you don’t mind that I’m getting blood on your fire escape.”

“Peter?” you breathed out, helping the man to his feet. “Jesus fuck, Peter, what happened?” you slowly helped him through the window to your apartment.

“I’m surprised you’re not yelling at me for stupidity,” he told you after a wince.

“You’re bleeding,” you explained as you let him drop into a wooden chair. “I’ll yell at you when you’re not bleeding everywhere.”

He huffed out a laugh. “That makes sense.”

You shook your head and hurried to get your first aid kit, mentally pausing for a moment to thank yourself for learning how to do stitches and taking a decent amount of first aid classes.

When you got back to him, Peter had taken off his mask and his suit was loose around him. You could see the bruises and cuts covering his neck, chest, and arms. There was a bad bruise on his jawline. The pain was obvious, written all over his chest, and it hurt your heart.

You sighed as you pulled the suit down more, uncovering more bruised and cut skin. With a steady hand, even while you were completely aware that he was watching you, you cleaned the cuts. There were only a handful of them that you thought would need stitches, so for the moment you bandaged them to stop some of the bleeding.

“What happened?” you asked Peter quietly while bandaging the other cuts.

Peter hissed as you tenderly pressed on a bruise. “Had a nasty fight with Doc Ock. Thankfully, no bullets with that guy.”

You huffed slightly as you wiped some blood from his chest. “If you came to me out of the blue with a bullet and showed me your secret identity, I’d be fucking upset, I do admit. Next time,” you gave him a small smile, “if you do come with a bullet, I’ll be prepared.”

“Thanks,” Peter smiled weakly at you.

Giving him some warning, you quickly sterilized your needle and got ready for the stitches. Peter watched you through his eyelashes, barely flinching as you passed the needle through his skin. You tried to block it out, you truly did, but his gaze was so intense that you nearly messed up a stitch.

“Do I make you nervous?” Peter murmured as you finished with one set.

“Do you want an honest answer, or do you want a lie?” you asked, glancing up at him only briefly. You started to stitch up another cut on his chest.

“Honesty, always.”

“Yes,” you said quietly.

“Why?”

“Do I make you nervous?” you asked instead.

“Yes.”

“Why?” you asked, finishing a stitch.

“Because you’re amazing.”

You scoffed and did another stitch. A few more, and you’d be done. You were a little surprised that you were so good at them, but perhaps because it was so methodical, you were doing better with it. Still, no matter what, you were glad you were almost done.

As you finished, wiping off the last bit of blood, Peter’s gentle hand raised your chin to look at him. He smiled at you, but his eyes were serious.

“Y/N,” he murmured, “you are amazing.”

You gave him a small, disbelieving smile, and moved back from him. “Let’s get you some ice for those bruises, and some water. Are you hungry?”

“No,” he said quietly, “not really at all. I’ll take that water, though.”

You hummed in acknowledgement and hurried to the kitchen. Preparing the ice bags, you wrapped them in some tea towels. Then, after pouring a glass of water, you carefully balanced everything in your arms and walked back out.

Peter had moved to the couch, his suit discarded, and was only in his boxers. You carefully kept your eyes from tracing down his body while you handed him all of the ice packs. He let out small hisses as he placed them on the most prominent bruises, before taking the glass and sitting back. It took him all of thirty seconds to down the glass and place it on the floor.

“Sit with me?” he asked gently.

You sat next to him, careful to put a bit of space between the two of you. Peter seemed upset at that, and instead gently tugged you over to him. Rather ungracefully, you fell into his side. Even though he winced with pain, he squeezed you closer to him.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering with sleep. “You’re my favorite.”

You huffed with amusement and felt sleepiness come over you too. You wrapped your arms around him and snuggled into his chest. He hummed, the vibrations ringing through his chest almost like a purr, and you both quickly fell asleep.

You woke up a few hours later, noting how early it was. Peter was awake and watching you both sleepily and intensely, if that was even possible. He gave the plush of your hip a squeeze with his large hand before rearranging the both of you.

Peter slid you over his body while shifting to lay on his back. He settled you on top of his chest, staring up at you, before wrapping his arms back around your waist. Then, he turned his head slightly and fell back asleep, even snoring lightly.

As easy as that!

You kept your scoff to yourself and decided to instead live with what was going on. After snuggling into his bare chest, you hesitantly pressed a kiss to his heated skin.

At that moment, you were glad he was asleep.

You weren’t sure what to do with these pesky feelings of yours. Truth be told, you couldn’t even be sure if Peter returned those feelings; you hoped he did, but past experiences warned you to never, ever assume.

Then again, he had kissed you…

But then again (again), he had only kissed you as Spider-Man.

And he ran. Well, he ran to fight crime, but still.

“Maybe he only kissed you to make a point,” that voice in your head whispered.

“I can feel you thinking right now,” Peter’s sleepy voice mumbled.

“Sorry,” you muttered, tucking into yourself a bit.

“What’s on your mind?” he breathed.

“I don’t want to ruin your sleep.”

“You could never ruin anything.”

“You’d be surprised,” you muttered bitterly, sighing a bit.

“C’mon, what is it? You’ll never get to sleep if you don’t tell me about it.”

You sighed and sat up, crossing your legs and hunching over slightly. “I just… don’t know how to deal with it.”

Peter slowly sat up as well, wiping the side of his face. “How to deal with what?” he asked as he stifled a yawn. After a moment of looking at you closely, he took one of your hands and scooted closer.

“Deal with my feelings,” you admitted softly as you quickly glanced at him and away.

“Which feelings?” he asked, matching your tone.

This was it. It was time to take the plunge and tell him.

“I know that we’ve only known each other for several weeks, but… I really like you. A-and if you don’t, that’s okay, really! I just… don’t know how to handle it because you’re so cute and handsome and sweet and nice and funny, and fuck, I just… I don’t know.”

Peter blinked slowly at you as you avoided your gaze. “I kissed you,” he deadpanned.

“Yeah, but you were Spider-Man, there could have been all sorts of factors for that.”

He seemed shocked at that sentence, and you closed your eyes to prepare for the inevitable. You prepared for him to laugh, or to tell you it was a joke, or to leave.

Instead, Peter leaned forward, cupped your cheeks in his hands, and pressed a long kiss to your lips. It wasn’t chaste but it wasn’t deep, and it made you feel as if all was right with the world. It was the best kiss of your life.

Peter drew back and you slowly opened your eyes. His gaze was warm and comforting; one hand moved down to cup your neck, while his other thumb passed lightly over your lips. You pressed a small kiss to it, making Peter beam.

You thought he was going to say something. He didn’t.

He simply moved forward again and kissed you deeply.

Feeling as though you could be contributing more to the experience, you let your hands move, sliding them to his shoulders and then around his neck. He let out a hum of happiness as you pulled him even closer to you, and Peter took that as permission to kiss you with more fervor than the previous two.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you melted further into him. One of his hands slid down from your neck to your hip, giving you a soft squeeze exactly as he nipped your bottom lip. Letting out a small whimper, you tangled a hand in his hair.

Peter let out the most delicious growl as you did, surging forward and carefully lowering you to the couch. Your leg wound around his torso as he perched himself over you, his lips only moving from yours briefly. He ran his tongue across your lips, urging you to open your mouth, which you gladly did.

You felt like you were on fire, in the best way possible. Still, your mind was racing, and you were starting to feel overwhelmed by all the emotions. The next time he nipped at your lip, you regretfully pulled away.

Adorably, Peter followed your lips slightly, making your heart skip. As you pulled back a bit more, though, he sat back slightly, his eyes overflowing with concern.

“A-are you okay, is everything okay, did I do something you didn’t like?” he blurted in a panic, starting to move back from you.

You quickly grabbed his face in your hands and pressed a small, gentle kiss to his lips. “Everything you did, I loved, okay? I enjoyed it very much. It’s just… so much right now. It’s almost like everything is firing at once, and I love it, it’s just that I think I need to breathe,” you reassured him.

Peter let out a sigh of relief and leaned a bit closer to you. “Is this okay?” he asked in a whisper as he put his forehead on yours.

You hummed and nodded, inhaling and exhaling slowly. Slowly, your heartbeat began to return to normal and the world came back from the sharp yet soft glow it had taken on after Peter kissed you.

After a handful of minutes just sitting with your foreheads pressed together, you opened your eyes again. Peter seemed calm, the serenity on his face warming your heart even more than his kisses from earlier. You moved your hand to rest lightly on his knee, only to be shocked by something vaguely cold and squishy.

Looking down, you erupted into laughter. Peter’s eyes flew open, concern etched into his eyebrows. As you leaned back with laughter, you held up the melting ice pack.

Peter blinked before he laughed, pulling one out from behind his back. That made it all the more amusing to you, and both of you were laughing for a good three minutes.

As your laughter came to an end, you felt yourself being pulled into Peter’s arms. He cradled you to his chest, nuzzling your neck with a hum.

“Peter,” you chuckled, “it’s late. We should go to sleep.”

“Hm,” he pretended to consider your suggestion. “Alright, let’s go!”

As you prepared to climb out of his arms, Peter stood up easily. You, obviously, followed his body upwards. You flinched in surprised, clearly not used to being in the air. With an incredulous look, you stared at Peter’s face while he walked to the bedroom.

“Peter!” you nearly shrieked. “Put me down! I’m too heavy!”

“Not at all,” he said simply, not allowing you to budge.

“No, seriously, Peter, I’m too heavy!” He stopped walking at that point.

“You are lighter than an ice cube, don’t worry. Do I look like I’m struggling?”

Your arguments died on your lips as you realized that he didn’t even look close to breaking a sweat. As you grew quiet, Peter slowly began to walk again. As you looked up at him, at his jawline, your hand came up to cup his chin. He grinned down at you and squeezed you a bit before reaching out to open the bedroom door.

As he crossed the threshold of your bedroom, you stretched up slightly and pressed a kiss underneath his jaw.

A dark, delicious growl left Peter’s mouth as he looked down at you with a smirk. Then, he gently tossed you onto your bed, where you landed with surprise on your back. You propped yourself up on your elbows almost immediately.

You blinked up at him and he growled again, only for it to dissolve into a whine as he flopped onto his back next to you. Peter’s fluffy hair made you chuckle, and he opened an eye to look at you as you turned on your side, a hand propping your head up.

With a smile (and the echoes of those growls in your mind), you gently began to pet his fluffy brown curls. “What’s wrong?” you murmured.

Peter let out a similar whine and threw his forearm over his eyes. After a few moments, he admitted, “If you keep looking at me like that, or touching me like that… it’ll be hard to keep myself from absolutely devouring you and making you scream my name.”

#peter parker x plus size reader #peter parker x insecure!reader #peter parker x reader #commission for confidence #artist peter parker au #plus size reader #plus size reader insert

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slxkpop · 5 years

Text

The Sweet Taste of Candy (Chapter 1/?)

Pairing: Unknown

Genre: A bit of everything tbh

Word Count: 2.7 k

This is a mini series about Jimin who is a complete, utter, slutty ass mess. He has issues that he doesn't want to face, so drugs is his way out :) and this story does indeed, include smut. Enjoy!

Waking up is the hardest thing to do. Every night his mind drifts into nothingness where he’s able to create a world of his own from scratch, where he’s able to do whatever he wants. To feel however he wants without reality influencing him. To wake up into this world that was so heavy and dark never ceased to bewilder him; he who did not belong here.

“Can you fucking get up already?” The stranger standing above Jimin shoved his body to the side to ensure he was alive. Jimin rolled over, almost lifeless in his underwear. He squinted his eyes open and pushed his light blue hair back, revealing his forehead.

“Look you gotta go. My wife is pulling up with my kids soon so hurry up” The man struggles with his zipper as he speaks, soon letting it go out of frustration. Jimin had no recollection of what happened the night prior, but as always, he was being rushed to pick up and go. He wishes he could’ve gotten up earlier to at least clean himself up, but his pounding headache told him to get more rest.

“The acid is on my nightstand. Don't forget it, I don't want that shit in my house.”

Getting up, Jimin found his pants on the floor alongside his phone and shoes. He pulled up his joggers and checked his phone which has almost 10 messages from Taehyung. The blue-haired boy sighed and rolled his eyes. He looked around for his shirt but he couldn't find it anywhere.

“Hey, do you know where my shirt is?” Jimin said in a quiet raspy voice.

“I left it on the sink in the bathroom.'' As he entered the small room, he noticed that his black shirt was soaked, and what seemed to be traces of vomit was left on it. He gagged slightly while picking up the dampened fabric; most of it was rinsed out by water but the bathroom still reeked of throw up.

Jimin made his way to the living room with all his belongings in his hand, including his shirt and a pack of acid.

“Hey, can you lock the door on my way out?” He said with a soft voice. The fair man led him to the front door, where they stood looking at the pouring rain. Assuming he wouldn't be getting an umbrella, he took a step out of the house about to leave. He turned around to look at the stranger one more time and smirked while reaching down towards the mans pants to pull up the undone zipper. The blue haired boy then tilted his head and winked at the man as he turned around to leave the house.

“See you”, was the last thing Jimin said to the stranger as he watched the man’s wife and kids stare at him from the driveway.

“Jimin, its fucking pouring, why are you walking around shirtless?” Taehyung yelled through the rolled down window, he didn't think he’d find his friend wandering the streets shirtless in the middle of the afternoon.

“My shirt was soaked before I even left the house so I decided to not put it on” Jimin looked at Taehyung blankly while opening the car door.

“Whose house where you in this time?” Taehyung never understood how Jimin could so easily jump from place to place. He didn't understand why his blue haired friend jumped from place to place. Taehyung always welcomed him into his home with a warm heart.

“I don't know, some dude I met last night.” Taehyung sighed. Why did he even ask?

“I'm taking you home.” Taehyung peered to the side to look at Jimin. He was a mess. His skin was pale and it looked like he hasn't had a good rest in days.

“It's not my home! It's yours so don’t fucking say that!” Jimin turned to Taehyung who looked shocked at the sudden aggression.

“It's your home too, you know you’re welcomed at any time. I told you to just stay with me, you don't have to pay rent or anything” Jimin looked towards the window after he plugged his charger into his phone and tensed up at the thought of being in a house.

“Don’t say that soft shit. I'm not going to live in your house for free-”

“So you’re going to go around, high off of your fucking ass, staying at different people’s houses every night? At the risk of literally fucking dying?” Another wave of anger pulsated inside of Jimin and his impulses took hold of him.

“Taehyung shut the fuck up. Let me out of the car!” Jimin started banging on the window with a closed fist and tried to pry open the car door.

“We are literally in the middle of a road. Calm down, what are you even trying to do!?”

Taehyung tried to grab Jimin's shoulder to get him to stop.

“Don’t fucking touch me! Don't ever touch me!” Jimin’s wave of anger bursts as he reaches over to Taehyung, grabbing the steering wheel and pulling it towards himself. The car jerks to the right before Taehyung can grab the wheel and push Jimin off of his side.

“Jimin what the actual fuck is wrong with you?! Are you on fucking crack?!” Jimin adjusted himself back in his seat after realizing what just happened.

“I don't know! I don’t fucking remember!” Jimin’s chest closes at the thought of what he just did. He almost killed his best friend and he suddenly feels sick, as if his body just took the toll of all the stupid shit he has been doing at once.

He takes a deep breath and tries to subsume his emotions.

“I’m sorry… just take me home” Taehyung sighs as the atmosphere calms down. Thinking that Jimin would purposefully put his life in danger terrified him and he knew that he needed to get his friend help as soon as possible.

A person's home is somewhere where they can feel safe and relaxed. A home is not just a convenient space to have, it also helps mentally. At home you disconnect yourself from outside life and are able to have a peace of mind, which is very important if you want to stay sane.

Jimin plopped himself onto Taehyung's soft sofa, closing his eyes in leisure.

He felt unhappy to be back in Taehyung's residence, but the comfort of the pillows against his body was nice. Being in a house wasn't pleasant, in fact he felt more paranoid now than he ever was out in the street.

He started to get uncomfortable and shifted his position, trying to feel relaxed again.

He breathed unsteadily, feeling as if the room was closing around him. His muscles tensed up and he shot his eyes closed trying not to think about the walls. Walls are associated with feeling trapped, being trapped reminds him of blood-

“Hey Jimin, are you okay?” Taehyung suddenly reached out for Jimin's shoulder causing the blue haired boy to gasp out. He was still panting and clenching his hands tightly trying to calm down.

“Taehyung, I really cant fucking be in here. Either let me go or let me take another

tab” The brunette looked at Jimin and took the condition he was in, into consideration.

If he let him go, Jimin would just be wandering the streets again, walking around hopelessly until he found someone to take him home.

God knows when Taehyung would find him again.

Or he would go to the club, and work as a dancer where they would offer him even more drugs. There, he’ll have a cluster of creeps willing to take him home and spend the night. House him and let him sit pretty as his system stays hopped up on drugs. How can he feel so comfortable being so vulnerable around strangers? Letting him take another tablet seemed like the most reasonable option but Taehyung didn’t want to feed into his addiction.

“I won't let you take acid but I have weed you can smoke. Do you think that would be enough for you? The stuff I have has a pretty high potency.” Jimin nodded gently, body yearning for it as though it would cure some unseenable sickness. His face was eminently pale, skin glistening as a small sheen of sweat built up on his flesh.

Taehyung hurried to his room and came back with a pre-rolled blunt and a lighter. At the sight, Jimin visibly relaxed, watching the hot orange light at the end of it flicker to life. With his first pull the familiar burn in his throat released the tension he sat with, his body unwinding as the walls start to appear just a bit less scary.

The amount of narcotics he has taken made Jimin’s tolerance ridiculous, but he still got a buzz out of the blunt. But it was enough to ease his anxiety.

“Are you okay now?” Jimin took one last pull before tapping a bit of ash into a tray before stubbing it out. Taehyung looks at him, observing his friend very carefully. He notices how Jimin’s face appears to have gotten thinner. There was a slight tremble in his hands and his pupils never seemed to return to its normal size, even when he peered at his phone which produced bright light.

“Yea, I’m fine. Whatchu lookin at?” Taehyung averted his gaze to the object nearest to him, hoping he didn't look away too fast. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and moved away from Jimin, he didn’t realize how long he was staring at him. He had watched him until the blunt turned into a roach, he didn't want to come off as rude.

“Nothing. I was just noticing how you look different.” Taehyung managed to spit out the thought he was thinking since he encountered his blue haired friend.

“Different in what way? Is it good?” Jimin tilted his head away from Taehyung, smirking at him alluringly. Seeing this expression on Jimin's face wasn't new to the brunette.

“I mean your whole atmosphere feels different… You look really good with blue hair” Taehyung was trying to compliment him but all he could think about was how concerned he was for his health. He did look good with blue hair though.

“My atmosphere is different? I feel the same.” Jimin whispered before licking his lips.

His mind was fuzzy and he didn't see his caring, childhood best friend. He could only see another hot stranger. Jimin’s eye patterns visibly changed. His gaze catching onto all the ‘not so friendly’ parts of Taehyung. His neck, his arms, his constantly moisturized lips. His jaw and strong brows. He looked so concerned but there was absolutely nothing wrong happening right now. Frustration seeped into Jimin’s features.

“Jimin are you okay? You’re acting strange-”

“But haven't I been acting strange this whole time? My atmosphere is different, RIGHT?” Taehyung furrowed his brows further. The other’s presence felt overwhelming and he couldn't help but feel intimidated by his friend.

“J-jimin, that's not what I meant. You’re just-”

“I'm just what?”

“You just feel- distant!” Taehyung watched Jimin cautiously since it seemed like he was going to get attacked again.

“So should I make it so that there’s no distance between us?” Jimin’s eyes burned with a crazed gleam as he quickly pounced on to Taehyung’s lap, grabbing both of his wrists.

“Jimin what are you doing!” Taehyung was struggling to push Jimin off of him, he wouldn't budge at all.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Jimin’s tongue came out to further wet his lips before using it to sweep down Taehyung's neck. His friend’s breathing was ragged as he licked up towards his ear. Jimin’s teeth joined in as be began to nibble on it. Taehyung closed his eyes tightly at the feeling, fingers curling into a fist in Jimin’s hold.

“Don't pretend this isn't why you’ve been searching for me for weeks. What other motive would you have?” Taehyung wouldn't let himself be caught up in Jimin's words. He knew all his friend felt right now was lust but he couldn’t give in, even if it was terribly tempting.

“Jimin don’t fucking say shit like that! Seriously get off of me!” As Jimin began to explore his jaw, adrenaline began to burn in his body. Taehyung forcefully flipped Jimin over with his whole body, sending them both onto the floor. The sudden harsh contact made the buzzing in Jimin's head stop for a second. His eyelids didn't feel heavy and he was able to see and think clearly again.

He took a moment to formulate an apology.

“I’m sorry. Again.”

“Jimin, you need help. Like for fucking real. During the time I searched for you I was looking into rehabilitation doctors and therapists. I really think you should go. I met up with one in person and he seemed like a genuinely good guy who wants to help people.”

While above Jimin on the floor, Taehyung reached behind him and started shuffling through his back pocket.

“Look, this is his card. Please look into it, okay?” Taehyung got off of Jimin after handing him the business card. Jimin stayed on the floor, holding the card up to read the doctor's name.

Dr. Jeon Jungkook

“What a shit name”

Thankyou for reading the first chapter!! More will soon be uploaded. Also, keep a look out cause i will be doing a story in the future.

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atxbambi · 5 years

Text

hi hey hello!! and this is my bby bambi with skeleton physiology.. which is just as creepy as it sounds, yup. but honestly bambi is a sweet heart, a lil timid angel that’s easily frightened and tbh still incredibly socially awkward and scared of his mutation but he’s here to work on that.. but he’s a soft bab ( also he’s a youtube gamer & vlogger + twitch streamer and he’s got a couple million subscribers so.. he’s kinda popular - but him online and him in person are vvv different )

either way, under the cut i’ll give a rough summary of his background ( which is angsty and cruel so you’ve been warned ), but if you want to read the full thing + see his profile, then here and here are your links! and so is the link to his power, here! and feel free to like this post if you would like to plot <3

basics: apinya “bambi” kessawai | 20 | skeleton physiology

so his parents died when he was a child of 4 and they were killed by people that hated mutants, and after that he was moved to busan to stay with grandparents that he didn’t know at all and they basically had no desire to deal with him

aka cue years or harsh words, neglect and just roughness.. and just, they never really praised him or nurtured him he was just very used to harsh words ( and because of this as well as other things i’ll talk about, basically when they used to shout at him or make him scared he’d get really sick which got worse as he got bullied at school as well )

he was 9 when he found out about his mutation which made itself very known during break at school when kids were beating him up and he shifted into a skeleton and the skeleton took over and hurt them back, protecting him but bambi had no idea what had happened

it took him hours to shift back and his grandparents locked him in the car over night and didn’t let him out for nearly a whole day

after that he was removed from school and “home schooled”, but tbh it was more bambi teaching himself things because the teachers that were hired hated him or he scared them when he accidentally shifted or partially shifted - his grandparents kept him majorly locked up for the most part too and they shouted or beat him when he shifted or partially shifted and because of that it made it harder to control as well because the skeleton form, as much as it is him it is also like a different person and bambi does believe he’s protecting him but even bambi is terrified of it

either way, he had little to no social interactions over those years too and it was only at 17 he ran away after his grandfather started choking him and he passed out but when he woke up he was in someone elses house surrounded by strangers that were looking after him

so basically the skeleton took over, got him out of there, and another family found him when he was reforming his skin and took him in - which was majorly because their oldest child could read memories and she read his and basically they adopted him tbh

so that’s the first time bambi’s ever felt kindness and softness, like it was to a point still that he’d flinch when they touched him or he’d panic if he couldn’t control his mutation but they’re a lovely family and basically they’re helping him to control it and teach him it’s okay and he doesn’t need to be scared

and yea, he started his youtube channel a lil over a year after that too when they encouraged him to try it too and yup now he’s going to the school with his now adoptive older sister

mini fun facts:

bby can’t swim to save his life; he’s scared of large bodies of water a lot tbh

also a vegetarian bab for moral reasons and tbh he doesn’t do well being around people cooking meat bcos it makes him feel sick ( i realise now him being sick is a reoccurring theme but yea um it’s kinda a situation )

his name is bambi too bcos obviously thai have nicknames but also because that’s the name his parents gave him because when he was a child it took him so long to learn to walk and he was always sliding around that they started to call him it; and the first nickname he had before that was kasi

so personality wise:

timid, sweet, soft, gentle.. literally couldn’t hurt a fly and too precious for his own good i guess

like he’s just easily scared like a child a little, and he has very bad social anxiety and depression still ( i’ll mention it quickly that he does self harm and has for years but he has no lasting scars because when his skin regrows the scars mend ) - but because of his social anxiety which is worse than his depression now - he’s just scared tbh like it’s hard for him to function socially sometimes because of what he’s been through and how little social interaction he’s had compared to others that grew up with it so he feels like.. inadequate, i guess?

also, when he gets scared he starts feeling sick, like sometimes it’s just dizzy or nausea, but when he gets properly scared he normally ends up throwing up and getting really ill for a day or so because his panic makes him unwell ( like honestly could be as simple as you sneaking up on him at the wrong time too ) - but he’s been told by multiple doctors that in the future it’ll get better, but for now it’s something he’s just got to be aware of tbh

#at:intro #murder tw #anxiety tw #vomit tw #self harm tw #abuse tw #posting this before i head out!!

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sneakydraws · 5 years

Note

can i tells us some stuff abt your ocs? they look really interesting

This is literally the ask I have been waiting, hoping, praying for oh my god I am bursting at the seams with love for my OCs but I’m just too dang embarrassed to spontaneously talk about them so thank you!! so!! much!! anon!! Mentions of homophobia, transphobia and abuse incoming, but nothing graphic. Okay here we GO

The basic premise of the universe is that it’s set in the near future and the existence of people with magical abilities has just been revealed to the world. Think Harry Potter world right (like five-ten years or so) after the wizarding world has stopped being secret. Except this universe’s magicians don’t really form a unified society - it’s more of a loose web of connections and smaller groups, which means they’re not organised enough to fight for their rights or fair treatment like I’d imagine HP wizards would.

The nature of their magic is also quite different - there’s still some details I’m figuring out but the gist is humans kind of pair-bond with spirits, which allows them to release and use their inherent magical potential. These spirits pass on to their human’s offspring if they have any, and if two magicians have a child, it a) will probably not survive to infancy and b) if it survives, it’s significantly more powerful than a normal magician.

This worldbuilding is honestly only relevant to a couple of characters but I wanted to talk about it so forgive me haha moving on to the characters!

Joe and Sarah lived in the same orphanage for a short time and pretty much consider each other siblings. Sarah lived in the orphanage her whole life and doesn’t know her parents, while Joe was rejected by his family when he came out as a trans guy and subsequently ran from home. Sarah had had a knack for sneaking out of the orphanage already so when Joe hit 18 she went with him. Joe runs a bar now that is famously open to LGBT youth (that’s the official excuse for having a lot of openly trans OCs in one place tbh) and he will often help trans kids specifically get surgery/hrt with the help of Rose in exchange for an IOU. He’s got some vague ambitions and is generally a bit shady. Sarah discovered a love for kicking ass and is highly respected in the cool-as-fuck underground fighting scene. She’s probably the coolest person in the story ngl

Margaret/Maggie is a trans girl who scrapped up enough money in her home country of Russia to get to the US, hoping to find some way to transition. Terrible plan, really, but she was lucky enough to find Joe eventually. She’s bubbly to the point of coming off as unsettling for some and has a lot of charisma, easily winning people’s affection. She’s a magician but was never really trained to use her powers so the only impressive thing she can do is conjure up a badass unrealistically sized axe. She’s the oldest out of all these OCs and started out as a Soul Eater self insert!!

Martin grew up in the town where Joe and Sarah eventually settled down with an absent father and a less-than-ideal mother. In high school, while struggling with internalised homophobia (he’s bi) he fell for an older guy and got involved in a pretty damn abusive relationship. He eventually broke it off but the asshole outed him so his life really didn’t get much better until a while later, when (still in hs) he met Sarah and, via her, Joe, who came to be a huge support for him. In last year of hs he met George and writing their edgy, weird romance has been my guilty pleasure ever since. He eventually dropped out of hs without graduating and though not perfect, his life got significantly better. Still kind of a giant mess tho

George comes from a pretty wealthy background with his mother a retired Very Important Person in this universe’s police/guard structure (it’s very vague and fantasy inspired, don’t think about it too much please). When he was little, his cousin was orphaned and adopted as his older sister, and his parents quickly shifted their hopes from their completely unambitious son to her. He’s still a highly skilled swordsman though, and spent most of his education in stuck-up boarding schools. When last year of high school came around he convinced his parents that moving into the shithole of a town that joe&co live in is a great idea, really and they actually let him do it!! So he spends his last year blowing off school, making connections in order to one day take over the town’s police/guard thing and making out with Martin once he stopped being a coward about it. Eventually he does take over the police/guard thing and despite being an uninterested dickbag about everything he doesn’t do too badly. I actually base a lot of his personality off of myself but like, if I didn’t have social anxiety? So he’s permanently tired and judgemental and vaguely annoyed at the world and utterly devoid of ambition but has somewhat of a gold heart maybe.

Blue is a girl who also comes from a wealthy background and knew George since they were little kids. Her parents were quite abusive and she has a lot of trauma related to her childhood but she managed to escape her home after hitting adulthood (i know there’s a lot of running from home. it’s entirely because i was 13 when i wrote these characters.) but since she had basically no knowledge of the world she looked for the only person she knew, which is George. She eventually managed to find him and while he did help her their relationship is extremely strained, mostly because though George knew about her situation and arguably had the means to at least try to do something about it he stayed silent due to his own hangups. There’s more and George’s sister is involved as well but that’s the gist of it and there’s a LOT of resentment between them. She’s a magician but the stress of her childhood caused her powers to be a bit unstable and she’s only beginning to get a proper hold on them with the help of Maggie and Aurelia

Julia and John are twins who also escaped an abusive home (told ya) and, much like Maggie, came to Joe to seek help with John’s transition. Julia is very protective of him but is dealing with her own problems, mostly stemming from her feelings of insecurity and weakness which morph with her anxieties about femininity into a powder keg about to explode any moment now. John on the other hand is a shy, awkward boy who mostly just wants peace and quiet in his life and he finds those in Aurelia, with whom he quickly becomes close and they eventually start dating.

Aurelia lives with her mother and works in their inn, hoping to one day be wealthy enough to support her mother and the people she holds dear. She’s a magician and mostly uses it in very lowkey ways, in the kitchen or around the house, kind of an oldschool witch. She’s very community-oriented and eager to help any newcomers. Very hardworking to the point where she can push herself too far, kind and caring but also headstrong and pretty stubborn.

okay i should go walk my dog and also probably…….. do schoolwork…….. but there’s still important characters i’ve left out who i’d love to talk about so let me know if you want to hear more because i’m so!! fuckin!! excited!!

#long post warning lol i sure do hope the readmore works #Anonymous #ask

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card-gays · 7 years

Note

Which of your ships could you see getting married and/or having children? And which ones would, at most, just move in together and maybe get a pet?

I love this question!!! But some preamble first: some couples are in lifelong romantic relationships, but don’t actually want to get “married” in a legal sense. Which I only mention bc I do have some ships like that~ And, since I definitely have too many in general, I’m only gonna do a few here. Other than that, you can feel free to ask if there’s one I don’t mention that you want an answer for. ^^ One in particular I left off was Prideship. Which sounds funny considering it’s My OTP, but I know I’m gonna have a mile long answer for it, and I wanted these to be about the same length so.. lol

(Also, prepare to see how different combos weirdly change my ideas for whether or not certain characters have kids/get married.)

So here we go-

THE COMMITMENT CHART!!

Peachship (Anzu/Yugi):- Anzu and Yugi I can easily see going from dating to getting married. They’re not exactly traditionalists, but they plan on being committed long term, and they love the idea of saying so publicly to everyone they know with a huge commemorative party. So why not! Like, especially after they’re both well established in their careers enough that Yugi can work from anywhere and just location hop with Anzu if she’s going to be abroad for work for more than a few months, or if they need to move so she can work at this one really prestigious theater… Either one of them would absolutely pop the question once they’re sure they’re happy living like that. And the Mazaki-Mutous would be a wonderful couple. As for kids… idk. I know Yugi’d be happy as a homemaker, so that’s taken care of, but I think Anzu would have to have branched out into acting or something first. I’ve heard being a professional dancer and a parent is really difficult, what with the travel, and while she’s said over and over her dream is dancing, her not mentioning kids makes me think Dream First? So I imagine her dream would have to shift to a different career before she’d consider it. After that? Probably yeah.

Rishid/Otogi (Totemship maybe? god help me):- Rishid and Otogi seem like they would be a really really really fun couple, but while I don’t have a hard time seeing them being a serious couple, the endgame couple/marriage headcanons elude me… because I don’t have a very firm grasp on Otogi? ^^” So I can definitely see and headcanon as far as “they date for a few years, have a great time together, and definitely get as far as moving in and getting a dog", but that’s about it. They are absolutely a pair that’d just be enjoying it as it happens, so I can easily think of them as being a long term committed couple, I just need to work on seeing the details. This is absolutely an open invitation for you guys to throw some headcanons at me. xD

Identityship (Rishid/Ryou): (I don’t get the ship name but I saw someone already made one and I’m taking it for now xD)- Okay so… I don’t even know how, but this ship’s really gotten me wrapped up in it. and it’s gonna have to be it’s own post because it’s A Lot. I think it takes awhile for them to get to the Dating stage because they’re both really careful people due to their pasts, and they both really want to be sure it’s not going to be anything that could get between Rishid and Malik’s bond as siblings. But the moment they’re sure everything’s in the clear, they’re near to inseparable. Ryou is a Cuddler if ever I’ve seen one, and Rishid never really had a chance to realize that was something he is Totally About until that first time cozied up on a couch for a movie. They probably move faster than they should for a bit, moving in right away, letting their ~pillow talk~ bridge into talking about their future a lot relatively soon, but somehow for them it just Works. Probably because they’re both totally honest about it. The only hiccup I can see is imo Rishid would absolutely want children, whereas Ryou’s got some anxieties about being 50% responsible for a small human bean. But, considering Ryou’s roadblock are fears capable of being worked through, instead of just not wanting any, I can see him getting on board with the idea all by himself the easiest if he’s with Rishid. I mean… the guy’s not only got experience helping to raise a kid, he’s got experience helping to raise a kid who is partially possessed. As far as well equipped partners go? Rishid’s got that pretty darn covered. (and as for the fears Ryou’s got about what kind of parent he’d be? Rishid’s right there with all the reassurances anyone could need) Their wedding would be simple, I think, but sweet. The people closest to them, a few of their own traditions mixed together in a lovely ceremony, and then Lots of pastries. (who knew Rishid shared his weakness for cream puffs…)

Visionship (Isis/Mai):- Okay so like…. these are No Kids Please people to me. Like they enjoy them, love them even, but… from someone else. Their nieces and nephews (in the traditional sense but also their friends’ kids) are adored and spoiled beyond belief by Isis and Mai, but they are not having kids. They’d rather travel the world and live in peaceful luxury, feeding each other fruit while sunbathing as people look at them in envy and awe. Or blowing exorbitant amounts of money on clothes and makeup and jewelry and perfume. Backpacking across Europe or relaxing in Spain, etc. They’d have a wonderful life together, with 0 regrets to the path they chose. Funnily enough, they are also probably the first of all of them to actually get married. It’s formal, it’s gorgeous, and honestly almost everyone cries when they first look at each other to walk down the aisle together because they are So In Love. The reception is a Party And A Half though. So whichever one of them (or both, if both) wanted to wear a dress definitely has a second one to have a great time dancing in…. Mai probably throws the bouquet, just so she can make sure Malik catches it and watch him have a meltdown trying to hand it to someone else.

The next three are just different combos of the same three people (Yugi/Ryou/Jou), and actually could all function together, so I’ll list them in one go!

Wishship (Jou/Yugi):- I see Jou and Yugi bouncing back and forth on the idea of a formal marriage because it’s not That important to Yugi (though he does want a cake) and Jou’s never really considered it so long as they’re gonna be together anyway. That said, they are fairly sure about wanting kids. Yugi’s always been an “either way is fine” kind of guy, and since Jou is really about adopting some precious kid of his own one day, Yugi is completely for it. If they did get married, they’d probably pick something fun and informal. Small and sweet ceremony, “reception” at a rented out arcade (thanks, Mokuba!)… Who’s ready for some laser tag? Family and friends of the grooms divided up into two teams, with Jou and Yugi as team captains. The losers still get cake but the winners get bragging rights. GO! (the fate of the match actually comes down to Shizuka, a sharpshooter, and Rebecca, the princess of finding cover)

Heartship (Ryou/Yugi):- By contrast, Ryou and Yugi are very sure about wanting to get officially married, and probably talk a lot about it well before the actual engagement. They know they don’t want to get married right away, but hey, they’re comfortable talking about ideas for it anyways…. They land on saying their vows beneath the projected ‘sky’ of a planetarium, with a similar motif for the reception. Their engagement and wedding bands, too. It’s all very sweet, though the vows get kind of existentialist. xD But because (as mentioned above) Ryou’s got some anxieties about it, and because it’s not super important to Yugi, I’m not sure about them with kids. Which is fine. They adopt some cute pets and have fluffy-children instead, plus they make great uncles to their friends’ kids! It’s a wonderful life.

(side note: Atem would be a bit jealous of the planetarium vow idea when he first hears about it. it’s Such A Good idea. Kaiba would offer off-handedly a honeymoon on the rebuilt space station when Atem mentions it. And Atem nearly drops his fork in surprise because they’d never talked about…. that’s the first time he’s…)

Jou/Ryou/Yugi (Cuddleship?):- This is where it all kind of comes together. xD Jou would consider the whole wedding thing a bit more seriously with Ryou involved, because while for Yugi it’s not a very big deal (so he wouldn’t mind if they didn’t do it), it is a pretty big deal for Ryou. So while the three of them initially plan to just be long-term committed with each other, with Yugi and Ryou being married officially as well, their planning would lead him to wonder if, you know, there really is much of a difference between what he wants out of not getting married and what he’d get if he was officially married. And the thing is? There’s really 0 difference for him. So if it really makes a difference emotionally to Ryou, yeah, he can do that. And (answering the very first question Ryou has when he says it) he can happily do it, wants to do it. “It’s just a promise made in front of a bunch of people, instead of in private. I’m okay with that.” Tbh he probably sort of catches some excitement for the idea before he even decides to tell them about it. He still doesn’t get the difference, personally, but he’s really excited and all about what it itself means and how happy Ryou and Yugi will be to plan it with him. As for kids….. okay, anxiety aside, Ryou honestly loves them? They’re messy and expensive and loud and all but made to give you a heart attack… but he loves them, and he’d want to have one. And with two other parents around to help, after a couple years, he feels comfortable bringing it up himself and saying he’d like to talk seriously about possibly adopting a baby. (they do. and name her “Amane”)

#Anonymous #headcanons #cg's ships and commitment #peachship #rishidotogi #tentatively tagged #totemship #watch that already be a thing #identityship #visionship #wishship #heartship #cuddleship

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