#because i am thinking of my guy from the third category. leaves. what a fucked up individual.
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is it true that the range of npcs created for campaigns as a gm is "some fucker i wasn't expecting to make a name for" to "slightly modified expy of a character i already know" to "has an extremely elaborate backstory & personal narrative that i'm terrified of my players not finding out"
#also sprach#because i am thinking of my guy from the third category. leaves. what a fucked up individual.#technically they're also an expy of a character i already know but that second role is filled by#a way way more direct expy in the campaign leaves is from. leaves has a full-on different name from their source character#among. most things about their character.#like the similarities are only familiar to people who'd know leaves' source character & also maybe have spent some time in my head#over the past few months#and people in the former category are few enough already
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ೀ- everytime (a.anderson)
pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader
warnings: idk ?? i don’t think there is any , please lmk if there is
summary: basically inspired by “everytime” by ari with a little changes, i recommend listening to this song before reading this if you haven’t already
a/n: first drabble or one shot!! i don’t really know what category it falls under, pleaseeeee be nice, i am working on my vocabulary and grammar also reblogs,like and comments are highly appreciated!!! enjoy :) also the ending is kinda rushed lol
you’re done with her, you swore you were done with her. you’ve been saying this forever and surely you finally felt like you meant it. you’re on and off relationship with abby was like an rollercoaster, just when you guys have been really good there was another argument. you’re needy and stubborn and you only want abby to yourself and to spend time with you only. you know that she’s a busy women with her basketball team and she can’t always suffice to your needs. you tried to plan small things to hangout with her like movie dates. she always said she would try to make it but she never did, you partly understood, but this time was the straw that broke the camels back.
a week ago was you and abby’s two year anniversary. this meant a lot to you, you could barely contain your excitement. you planned a dinner date at fancy restaurant that you’ve been on the waitlist for months. but of course you and abby had to get into another argument the night before your anniversary, and it was bad. it’s not like you guys broke up that night but she did end up leaving your house when she was supposed to stay for a week.
you woke up the morning of your anniversary expecting missed calls from abby, apology texts, and an a happy anniversary text but nothing, which was weird because she always apologizes after an argument (even thought it never her fault). you relaxed for the rest of the day until it hit 7:00 o clock. you put on makeup, curled your hair, and but on a sexy black dress, grabbed your purse and headed out.
9:27pm and you were still seated at your table on your third glass of champagne and had already order two appetizer. you swiveled your head to door everytime you heard it open, nope wasn’t her. maybe your read into this all wrong, maybe she broke up with you without actually breaking up with you during your argument last night, i mean she was pissed. she called you controlling. she is a busy women, she mention something about basketball practice today, but she said she’ll be here, it wasn’t an “i’ll try to,” she said she will! what did you expect , she didn’t even wish you an happy anniversary.
“can i get the check please?” you mumbled sheepishly to the waiter as she passed you by. you were embarrassed, this was embarrassing. getting up from your seat you contemplated texting her, calling her, cussing her out maybe? asking her what was her fucking problem. whatever, she obviously doesn’t want too speak to you if she missed out fucking anniversary.
a week since the anniversary has passed and you’re obviously not over her, you never went this long without talking to abby. all of your breakups with her never lasted longer than three days, and she was the one who always wanted to get back together. when your with your friends you tried to not show a change in you demeanor, but you couldn’t help it. abby brought out the best in you, she made you cheerful, tender, and amiable, you became a better person all around. but maybe you brought out the worst in abby, maybe she finally had enough and decided that she was done with you.
⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆
it was like it was calling your name. the whole week was fulfilled with lonely nights, only acompanied with your second half full bottle of vodka. you leisurely walked over to your vanity desk and took big gulps finishing the rest of the bottle. familiar taste but it still burns.
*ringtone from your phone*
you walk over to your phone with the bottle of vodka it one hand. you squinted your eyes looking over the brightness of you screen.
*CRASH*
abby. what the fuck, why was she calling you? it’s been a week, did she miss you? maybe it was an accident, maybe she was calling to apologize, all these thoughts and your the sound of your ringtone ended. but then she texted you.
abby: come over, i miss you
you pondered whether you should reply or not, but your drunk self got the best you.
y/n: fucj you
abby: are you drunk ?
y/n: are you ???!?
abby: stay where you are , i’m coming to get you
y/n: you dpnt even hsve my location
abby: baby you still have your location on
you were drunk and you missed her but you didn’t want to give in that easy, so you left your phone in your apartment and started walking out the door. to where ? you don’t even know you just didn’t wanna see her.
you didn’t even make it two blocks until you abby’s car pulled up on you. “what are you doing? get in the car,” prompted abby as she slowed down the speed of the car so it could match the pace of your walking. “leave me alone!” you yelled words obviously slurred. “i’m sorry baby, i made a mistake.” you stopped walking - fuck, why is she like this, why does she make your stomach go all crazy with only five words? you hesitated but you got in the car. why does god keeping bringing you back to her, everytime?
#Spotify#abby anderson#ariana grande#every time#abby x fem!reader#abby x reader#abby the last of us#the last of us#kinda rushed i’m sorry#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 𝓶𝓲𝓪 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓼 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆#what else do i tag#i wish i wrote more than this#i spent like 3 days on this#please don’t be mean to me#don’t be rude#sweetener
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P.H. // Part 3; Need To Know
Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
A/N; Chapter 3!! Yay! I will not lie I got kind of lazy and burnt out when I finally got to the smut scene, and for that I am sorry. I’ll make it up to you guys with a future chapter.
Summary; Reader can’t get her mind off of Spencer, which causes distractions at work. Until one day when he catches on.
Category; Smut (Minors DNI!!!)
Content Warnings; Swearing, Kissing, Mentions of masturbation, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Oral (Male receiving), Drinking, Mentions of being shot, Kinda Sub!Spencer, Virgin!Spencer (but not by the end of it)
Word Count; 7.2k
Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous | Next
‘Wanna know what it's like (like)
Baby, show me what it's like (like)
I don't really got no type (type)
I just wanna fuck all night’
Spencer Reid. The object of my attraction, the man I fell harder for with every stolen glance I could manage to throw his way. I was obsessed, and that infatuation only grew stronger every day that I saw him at work.
When we went out to bars after cases we ended up in an inevitable game of Never Have I Ever like a bunch of high school kids. With Emily and Derek in the group it almost always turned sexual. It started with innocent things such as; Never have I ever kicked down a door -- to which Derek drinks. There were some targeted jabs, I got Spencer a few times when I brought up an activity I was certain he had done -- just to keep him involved.
However he never drank past that. He never took a sip when Emily made a sexual innuendo, or when she brought up one night stands, number of partners, most bizarre location to engage in intercourse. Nothing of the sort got him to break. I figured he was a private guy, never one to boast about his sexual experiences.
It was frustrating, to say the least. It got to the point where I couldn’t think about anyone but him. I couldn’t engage in any sexual activity without my mind shifting to him, the way he might slip his fingers in and out of me, or how skilled he was with his mouth instead of the person I dragged home. No other person could even begin to compare to the remedy I concocted in my mind. I didn’t have any information to base my fantasies on, either.
I had it bad. So bad, that at one point I spilled hot coffee all over myself in the breakroom over the littlest interaction.
Spencer came in just after me, mumbling a small hello before reaching to grab a mug for himself. In the process of doing so his shirt rode up, exposing a small expanse of his lower stomach that had me sputtering as I clumsily missed my cup and instead poured the coffee all over the counter. It ran down and soaked through my pants; yet it wasn’t nearly as hot as the way I felt on the inside.
I couldn’t help but wonder the noises he’d make if I were to suck dark purple marks across that plain of skin...or if anyone ever had before.
The small burn was a fine price to pay for my inappropriate thoughts.
Him being the sweet guy that he is, offered to help me clean up. This proposal ended up with him taking paper towels and patting down my thighs -- not realizing just how suggestive the action looked to me.
“Sorry,” He whispered, looking up at my face from his position below me. He was kneeling on one knee, with a hand planted firmly on the outside of my thigh. His voice was soft yet raspy, and oh how I let my mind wander.
“Not your fault,” I said quickly, and borderline ran out the door before he could protest or add anything on.
I headed straight to the bathroom to wash my face, try and stop the effect he had on me from becoming too physical.
If I got that worked up over a small piece of skin showing, nothing could have prepared me for the first night we shared a hotel room.
I was in shambles all night, ever since the moment Hotch handed me a room card and explained we needed to double up.
Emily usually roomed with JJ, Hotch and Rossi got their own, and Derek refuses to bunk with Spencer -- if he could avoid it. Much to my luck, this time he did because Garcia was needed for this case, meaning she and Derek would be sharing.
Leaving me with Spencer.
I stood there helpless, eyes burning a hole into the place that Hotch was previously standing. I was panicking on the inside, my body going into fight or flight mode as I went through scenarios in my head.
I was 99% sure I would be embarrassing myself tonight.
“Hey,” Spencer said, putting a hand on my shoulder.
I jumped and shrieked a little bit, and slapped a hand over my heart. “Oh my god, Reid. You scared me.”
“Sorry,” he laughed. “Sorry I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay.”
He nodded, eventually realizing that he was still indeed touching my shoulder. He dropped his arm, only to bring his hand back up to rub over his chin.
My eyes darted down to it, watching at the way his veins stood out. It wasn’t the first time I admired them, there were moments when he was going over maps with two fingers where I wondered what they would feel like on my-
“____?”
“What?” I asked, a little too loud for the setting.
“Did you hear me?”
“No, sorry.”
“I said we should go inside,” he laughed softly, trying to sooth the tension.
I agreed, stepping past him to start walking to our room. I opened the door with trembling hands, wondering just how hard the following nights at the hotel would be.
“I’m gonna go see Emily and JJ. Ask if they wanna go to the bar,” I said quickly, throwing my bag down just inside the door.
“Oh. Okay. Have fun! Don’t stay out too late. You should get a full night’s sleep.”
“I won’t be long. Don’t wait up!” I called, not looking back to see him before half jogging out of the room.
-----
“I cannot go back in there.”
“Oh, because of your little crush,” Emily laughed, much too loud for the early hours of the morning.
Clearly Spencer’s advice about coming back early didn’t plant itself in my head.
“Yes, because of that,” I confirmed. I was staring down at my drink, wallowing in self pity. It was too awkward to even step foot in there, I’m sure just by the sight of him I’d explode.
“What is it about him that gets you hot and heavy?” JJ teased. “No shame, just curious.”
I fake laughed, ignoring her question.
Everything he did was so intoxicating. Even the most mundane things got my blood pumping hard. Each time he let a small gasp through his lips or when he would whisper to himself, a shockwave went through me, igniting a fire deep inside that was near impossible to put out.
But he was so oblivious. He hadn’t a single idea of the effect he had on me. And that was the most frustrating part.
The first time I noticed my extreme attraction to him was shortly after I joined the team, it was only the third or fourth case I’d had with them. Spencer and I walked to a coffee shop to grab some for everyone, and on the way back he was infodumping.
About what, I can’t remember, for I was too fixated on the way his hands wrapped around his cup as he talked. He’d wave it around, and in doing so his fingers would trace little patterns onto the outside of it. I didn't mean to stare, I just got distracted.
I started noticing more little things after that.
Like the way he licked his lips while deep in thought, his mind consuming him to the point where he looked so concentrated and determined. It was hot, to put it simply. I wanted nothing more for him to be licking my lips, to feel him take such care with my body.
He had always been attractive in my eyes, the young boy was nothing but pretty. Even when his hair was shorter and he gelled it back, pairing the look with his glasses -- that he unfortunately wore less often nowadays.
It was nearly painful to be around him all day every day. My head would constantly be spinning with anxiety, only causing more and more headaches to present themselves. It was like a punishment, one I certainly deserved for the tasteful thoughts I had during work hours.
My crush went from an innocent little thing, to full fledged fascination.
‘I just been fantasizin' (size)
And we got a lotta time (time)
Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’
Avoiding him as much as I could seemed like a decent plan at the time. If I kept my interactions low, I could distract myself with other things, and not focus on the way his lips pursed as I conversed with him. I raced up more time staring at his mouth rather than completing actual work by my six month stay at the BAU.
“I’m so fucked,” I nodded, coming to a bit of peace with my downfall.
“Well, you could be. If you told him how you feel,” JJ encouraged.
“No way in hell,” I protested, shooting my head up to make eye contact with her.
“____, there is a very, very high chance he feels the same. And if he doesn’t -- which he does -- he’s too sweet to let that impact your friendship.”
“We hardly even have a friendship. Whenever he tries to talk to me I end up running away. He probably thinks I hate him or something. He probably wants nothing to do with me.”
No objection from Emily or JJ there.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” Emily asked, changing the pace of the conversation.
“He never speaks to me again. I die of embarrassment.”
“You’re both adults, ____.”
“We are 27!” I shook my head, exasperated. “I hardly even feel like one sometimes.”
“27, exactly. I’m sure by now Reid has gained some experience with talking to women. You’ll be fine.”
“I have absolutely no way of knowing how things will go.”
“Just give him little tests,” JJ suggested. “Like touch him. On the shoulders, compliment him more, really go up to him and make a move. That way if he doesn’t feel the same you can play it off as being platonic.”
I groaned and rested my head on the table dramatically. “You both kinda suck at advice. What am I supposed to do? Waltz into our shared room and confess my love for him? Ask him desperately to dick me down?”
Even though I definitely wanted to.
They laughed at that, saying they were going to bed and wished me luck. Emily advised I should try and ‘get some’ from somebody else, and maybe that would take my mind off of things.
After stalling some more I eventually made my way back to the hotel room, hoping that Spencer was already asleep so I wouldn’t have to face him. But once again, luck wasn’t in my favour.
“Hi,” he spoke softly from his bed.
“Why are you still awake?” I asked, trying my best to stifle a yawn. I threw my sweater down on my bed, before grabbing my go-bag and retrieving my pyjamas from it. “It’s almost one in the morning.”
“I wanted to make sure you got back okay.”
“I told you not to wait up. Naughty boy,” I joked, finally turning my attention fully over to him.
Which could've been a mistake, based on the way you saw it.
He was dressed in flannel pants and a black t-shirt, along with his hair tied up that I’d failed to notice earlier. I froze at the sight, seeing the way his cheeks were dusted a slight red, and lips pink as ever.
His hair was tied up, and I almost dropped dead at the sight. I’d never seen it before. Sure, he sometimes wore an elastic band on his wrist during the work days but never have I seen him actually use one.
“I’m gonna shower and then head to bed,” I said in an effort to keep my voice steady.
He didn’t respond, only turning his head back to the book that was in his hand.
Thankfully when I returned he was asleep, meaning I didn’t have to see him before bed.
The next day was torturous. I couldn’t get the image of him out of my head. The view of him so relaxed on his bed was ethereal, the soft glow of the lamp hand illuminated his skin in all the right places. Did he pull his hair back often? Did he casually sit at home with it up? How did he look in different angles or positions? Are there other things he wears or does that I haven’t seen?
The image was just so domestic that I couldn't stop thinking about it even if I wanted to.
I was afraid to fall asleep, in fear that my dream may turn adventurous. Quitting my job and moving to a new city seems more preferable than having a sex dream about your coworker while they were in the room.
I was hyper aware of every move he made, always keeping tabs on him in the back of my mind so we wouldn’t accidentally run into each other.
Apparently when I was paying attention on how not to see him, I failed to notice how he had filled out recently. He wore looser pants in the past, ones that didn’t allow much shape to show through.
The next day at the precinct I was in for a surprise though, one that was sure to make me fall to my knees.
And I would have, if it wasn’t for the fact I was already seated in a chair.
Spencer walked in clad in pants that were far too tight to be appropriate for work. Or maybe I was overreacting.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath, soaking in his appearance of the day.
It was hot outside, so he decided not to wear his usual vest and tie combo, choosing instead just a white pattern button up and grey tie.
I heard Emily snicker beside me, which earned her a light kick in the calf to shut her up. She got up then, winking at me dramatically before leaving the room to presumably go check in with Derek.
“Hey ____, can you come here for a sec?”
I got up without a word, and walked over to the other side of the room where he was standing at the map hung up.
He went off about the unsub’s possible comfort zone -- things that I’d need him to repeat later because I wasn’t fully listening,
I stayed leaning against the table, just two feet behind him which gave me a perfect view of just how tight those pants really were. They hugged his hips deliciously, I wanted nothing more than to rip them off in that moment. I nodded along dumbly, changing my sight from his ass to his back, to his toned arms that were shown off from him rolling up his sleeves.
It was a fair sight, I don’t really think I could be blamed for staring.
A few weeks after that he got a haircut. His longer curls were gone -- yet not forgotten -- and were replaced with a mop of messy waves that framed his face perfectly.
It was like a new blow to my stomach every time I got used to the change.
“New haircut?” I asked the obvious on the first day back from a long weekend.
“Yeah...thought I should change it up,” Spencer replied, picking up his coffee mug to make himself a cup.
I nodded, the room settling in a short silence.
“Do you not like it?”
“No!” I exclaimed, Spencer furrowing his brows in response. “I mean, yes. I do like it. Sorry.”
“Oh, okay,” he laughed. “Thank you.”
“You could pull off any hairstyle, trust me,” I said, before walking back to my desk.
People that we met seemed to feel the same, because he got stopped more often at bars and at shops that were needed to visit. People would give him their numbers, leaving him a blushing mess. It got obnoxious, to the point where I was at my breaking point. My shoulders were always slumped, and my forehead creased with jealousy.
I stayed closer to him when the team went out, in an effort to get other girls to stop making moves on him.
They hadn’t noticed his beauty before, why should they get the privilege to advance on him now?
It was selfish, really. It may have been good for his self-confidence, but not so good for my own feelings.
I made sure to compliment him more often, telling him I liked his sweater vests, and ‘oh my Doctor Reid, is that a new tie?’ It was a win-win really, for both of us. I was building up my comfort level with him, and he knew that I did not, in fact, despise him.
When Spencer got shot on a case a few weeks later, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to show him that I care about him.
It was an easy job, since the bullet only semi-grazed his shoulder blade. Only needed deep cleaning once a night, for a few weeks so it wouldn’t get infected.
“Fuck,” he breathed with a groan, one that sent shivers throughout my veins.
“Sorry,” I answered quickly, keeping my gaze on the task at hand and not on his face that was just so close to mine.
Here I was in Spencer’s apartment, in his bathroom, helping him clean off his wound.
“I’m sorry but you need to stop moving, it’s just making things worse,” I explained.
“It hurts!”
“I’m sure it does! But I can’t do an effective job in cleaning it if you keep thrashing around like that.”
I saw him pout, and lower his head. The gears in his brain were turning, trying to come up with a possible solution.
“You’re going to need to hold me down.”
“What?!”
“I’m not gonna be able to stop moving,” he said, looking over his shoulder to where I was sitting behind him on the floor. “Come on.”
He stood up and left the room, gesturing for me to follow. And I did, collecting the supplies I’d need as he led me over to his living room.
Before I could protest he removed his shirt fully -- not like how it was bunched up by his neck previously.
I stopped in my tracks, eyes taking in every inch of skin that he freed. He was lean, as I predicted, but still toned in areas.
Spencer laid on his stomach down on the couch, motioning for me to come beside him.
“Get on my back.”
“Are you insane?”
“____,” he pleaded, looking up at me. His arms were crossed by his head, he was using them as a makeshift pillow. “I just want this to be over as fast as it can be.”
Right.
“Okay,” I agreed, and began to place my materials down on the coffee table to my right. I then swung a leg over his lower back, straddling him just how I’d imagine doing so before -- only the other way around. “Is this okay?”
He hummed, digging his face as far into the fabric of the couch as he could.
‘I got a lotta new tricks for you, baby
Just sayin' I'm flexible (I will)’
I took that as a yes, and poured some of the disinfectant onto a swab. Bracing myself with a hand on his other shoulder to pin him down firmly he shivered, breath shaking ever so slightly. I tried to catch him off guard with the swab, choosing a random time to press it into his wound.
He was definitely surprised, because he whined loudly into his hands and clenched all of the muscles in his back.
I couldn’t help but wonder if he made similar noises during other activities…
“Just a minute more,” I soothed him, running my free hand over the smooth skin of his back, doing my best to calm him down.
His breathing only became heavier, and was nearly shaking from the burn. I felt bad, having to see him go through this but I’d be lying if it wasn’t doing things to me. I couldn’t help but get a little bit excited when I got the chance to be near him, to be closer than we had ever been before.
It was intense, I was almost sure he could feel my arousal through the fabric of my pants and underwear.
I was an awful person.
Going home that night to sleep was a struggle. I felt guilty, for using his pain for my perverse temptations. Yet as soon as my fingers were buried inside myself I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him above me. The way he might sound, spewing out similar noises that I’d experienced earlier that were still fresh in my brain.
I wasn’t proud of it, and I thought every one of our interactions after that would be even harder.
Going back to work seemed fully impossible, I didn’t have any hope in myself to stay useful while he was parading around, completely oblivious to the effect he had on me. I became more sexually frustrated every day. It was nearly infuriating to see a look of innocence plastered on his face, meanwhile he would do things that made me go crazy.
‘Wanna know what it's like (like)
Baby, show me what it's like (like)
I don't really got no type (type)
I just wanna fuck all night’
“Penelope, I think I might die soon if I don’t get laid,” I said, rapidly opening the door to her cave.
“____-”
“No, I’m serious. I can’t get my mind off of-”
I stopped in my tracks, finally noticing the presence I hadn’t already accounted for.
Spencer sat in a chair to my left, just out of view that you couldn’t see him if you didn’t turn your head. He was in the middle of bringing a chip up to his mouth, but was stopped mid-air with his mouth hanging open.
“Sorry,” he said, scrambling up fast, bumping into things as he collected his satchel with shaky hands. “Sorry I’ll go.”
The door shut with a slam, and left Penelope and I in silence.
“Well, fuck,” I whispered, earning a booming laugh from her. “It’s not funny.”
“It is funny. It’s hilarious,” she giggled, doing a little spin on her chair.
I groaned, and sat down beside her on the edge of her desk.
“Maybe now he’ll make a move on you.”
“Oh shut up,” I slapped her arm, beginning to laugh along with her. “If he was avoiding me before, I’m sure he’ll never speak to me again.”
Ever since I helped Spencer with his injury the first time he’d been semi ignoring me, not trying to actively partake in conversation. We only talked when necessary, but didn’t exchange any extra words when I came over for an hour to help him with his wound.
I was almost happy about that, it meant I didn’t have to embarrassingly throw myself at him all day long.
I was perfectly fine admiring him from a distance, just how I’d done so for years.
However, there was a part of me that was rightfully sad. Did I cross a line, or make him feel uncomfortable? Maybe from spending so much time together recently he gathered I really wasn’t that interesting.
“Don’t say that,” Penelope frowned.
“Why not? It’s the truth,” I shrugged.
“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”
“How I feel?”
“Don’t even try and wedge your way out of it. Emily told me, don’t be mad,” she said, with the sweetest look on her face that I couldn’t be upset.
“Bitch,” I playfully mumbled.
“Besides you literally were about to say that you can’t get your mind off of him.”
“Uh, no, I was not. I was going to say someone. A general someone. Not Reid.”
She hummed, turning back to her screen to finish up some work Hotch had sent her to do.
“Okay fine. Pen, I’m gonna die. It’s insufferable. I can’t handle it anymore.”
“That’s exactly why you should tell him!” She encouraged excitedly, always a swooner for young love.
“I would scare him. He’s probably scared of me, actually.”
“Oh come on, I’m sure his little virgin heart can take it.”
“What?” I asked, suddenly giving her all my attention. “Virgin? Is he seriously a virgin?”
“I don’t know, truly. I just kinda figured. He doesn’t talk about anyone or anything to do with sex.”
I nodded. That makes sense. With him radiating pure sex appeal in my eyes, the thought never even crossed my mind that he might be a virgin.
But that just made it all the more exciting.
“But hey, if he’s really a 27 year old virgin I’m sure he’s extremely horny,” she laughed.
“We are at work. Let’s calm it down before I actually combust,” I shook my head.
My palms were sweating at the very thought of him doing anything remotely sexual -- which I thought about a lot. Surely he’s had to at least...taken care of himself. I’m sure it was a gorgeous sight, his hand wrapped firmly around his dick and face contorted in nothing but pleasure.
My thoughts were interrupted by none other than the man himself, who barged into the room to say we were taking off for a case in 30.
The flight there was quiet and boring, we left at night so there wasn’t so much we could do when we got there besides head up to our hotel.
“We’re sharing a room,” Spencer said, walking over to me from where he was previously with Derek.
I was standing in front of the vending machine, doing my very best to not eavesdrop on the mens’ conversation, which was only taking place about 20 feet away. Spencer was speaking in a hushed yet agitated tone, and Derek was matching his energy. It seemed they were bickering, but about what I didn’t know.
“Says who?” I panicked.
“Uhh...Hotch did.”
Great.
“Oh. Alright,” I followed him down the hallway, our room was the last one at the end.
I waited for him to open the door, and when he stepped out of the way to let me inside I brushed past him.
When I turned around Spencer was standing there blocking my path, causing me to bump into his chest.
“Hello...” I said confused, taking a step back.
“I…”
“What?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. “Spencer what are you doing?”
He didn’t answer with words, instead reaching up to push a piece of hair out of my face. My breath hitched at the contact, sending me into a short frenzy on the inside. He was inching closer, now his body was getting just close enough so that I could feel the heat radiating off of him. He was glancing back and forth between my eyes, searching my face for an expression of discomfort.
He didn’t find any.
“I was talking with Derek. About you,” he whispered. “He said you’ve been coming on to me.”
My heart nearly missed a beat at his words.
“I've noticed your odd behaviour, you don’t act the way you do with anyone else on the team. You run away from me, and at first I thought you just didn’t like me, but now...I think it’s the opposite. I see the way you look at me, you know.”
“And how do I look at you?” I questioned nervously.
“Like you want me. Tell me. Who were you talking about earlier today? Who exactly can’t get your mind off of?”
I paused, eyes almost bulging out of my head at the implication.
“If I'm reading this wrong, let me know. We can pretend this never happened.”
“Get on the bed and take your clothes off.”
He did just that, moving beside me to shove his pants down his legs, followed by ripping off his shirt, as I did the same. We couldn’t take our eyes off of each other, too busy drinking in our appearances to think straight. He sat down on the edge of the bed in just his underwear, and spread his legs just wide enough to give me space to stand between them.
“Tell me what you want.” he breathed, watching me as I walked towards him.
“You,” I answered simply, climbing into his lap and connecting my mouth was his. “All of you.”
He didn’t protest, only doing quite the opposite. He moaned greedily into my mouth, sucking every last bit of life out of me. He was hungry in his movements, not allowing for a single beat of fresh air for either of us. I was more than happy to return the energy, for I’ve dreamt for too long about what he might taste like. And it wasn’t disappointing, the sensation was far better than I could have ever cooked up in my head.
After a minute he became impatient, and started bucking his hips up to meet mine. I did the same, grinding down on his hardening dick that felt...impressive to say the least.
“I’ve thought about you for so long,” I spoke against his lips, taking a break between kisses.
He groaned back at me, moving his hands from my cheeks down to my hips to hold me flush against himself. He whimpered when I was fully against him, he had to break away to keep his breathing somewhat managed.
“Please, I need you so bad. I’ve thought about you too.”
“What exactly did you think about?” I asked quietly, trailing kisses all across his face, and then started heading down his jaw and neck.
“L-lots of stuff.”
“Tell me,” I demanded, looking up at him from my new position kneeling on the floor. “Please, tell me.”
I brought a hand up to his boxers, ghosting just over his bulge while remaining eye contact.
“Everything. All of you. ____, Please.”
‘You're exciting, boy, come find me
Your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me"’
“Let me do something first,” I said, pushing against his stomach to encourage him to lie back on the bed. He did so, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at me.
He watched my every move, not a second was missed by his eyes that stayed locked onto my form. I dropped my head down to kiss across his left thigh, and toyed with the waistband of his underwear with my right hand.
He was so vocal, and I hadn’t even done anything yet. I knew we had all night, but I’d waited too long for this to take my time.
‘And we got a lotta time (time)
Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’
I pulled his underwear down just enough to reveal his dick hard and red as it stood up against his stomach.
“You don’t...have to,” Spencer stopped me before I could carry on.
“Do you not want me to?”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s just…” He stopped, and bit his lip while staring off to one of the walls.
“Has anyone ever done this with you before?” I asked, almost unsure of whether or not I wanted the answer.
“Done what...exactly?” he asked, refusing to look back at me. His cheeks were red in embarrassment, and he was too focused on the distance to see the wave of excitement that flashed over my face.
“Spencer,” I said sharply, prompting him to turn his attention back to me. “Are you a virgin?”
His lack of answer told me enough. He blushed impossibly deeper, and started squirming in place. Just as he was about to speak up for himself I stopped him with, “That’s so fucking hot.”
“What?”
I climbed back up his body, just far enough so that I could grab his jaw in my hand and pull him down to meet my lips. It was even more hungry and passionate than the previous ones we shared, full of such fire I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to kiss anyone else ever again.
“You’re so sexy,” I moaned, hot and needy into his mouth.
He was good, which wasn’t unexpected from my end. His lips were always so plump and pink, they just had to be semi skilled.
“Thank you,” he replied, in a typical Spencer Reid fashion.
“Do you want to stop? Or keep going? Take a minute and think about it. I don’t want to pressure you,” I reassured him, but on the inside I was begging for him to want to continue.
He pulled back for a second, running a hand over the back of my head to keep me from going too far. His eyes were closed, focusing only on his breathing as he thought about his answer.
“I want to keep going. Please,” he decided on, nodding his head. “I just, I dunno, didn’t expect to get this far tonight.”
“Believe me, neither did I,” I smirked, smashing my lips back against his and returning to my spot kneeling between his legs. I pushed him back harder than before, sending a small oof sound from his chest as his back hit the mattress.
“Has anyone ever touched you here?” I asked, finally wrapping my hand around his dick,
It only made sense that a pretty boy like him would have a pretty cock, too.
“O-only once,” he breathed, with his head thrown back. He was staring at the ceiling, staring at the dots to distract himself from the feeling and to not come too soon. “Long time ago.”
“If you need me to stop, tell me,” I said, before licking a broad strip up the underside of his dick.
I paused at the head, swirling my tongue around before continuing my mission back down around the other side. I kissed his base, leaving more near his hips. He whined positively -- probably feeling a little ticklish -- and I took that as a good sign to suck a deep purple mark there.
Just like I’d thought about doing months ago.
I left a few more just up to his belly button, marking him up with the intent to claim him as my own. He’d see those marks for the next few days, and every time he would think of me on my knees for him. I kept pumping him in my hand as I did so, and every time I groaned into his skin his dick twitched with appreciation.
“Oh god,” Spencer moaned as I took him into my mouth unexpectedly, bunching up the sheets in his hands beside his hips.
I looked up to see him now staring down at me, jaw slacked and panting heavily. The sight was enough to elicit a moan from my own mouth, which led to him fluttering his eyes shut at the vibrations that shot through his body.
“Stop, stop!”
“What’s wrong?” I asked worriedly, immediately pulling up.
“Nothing, I just really want to feel you and I don’t think I can last much longer.”
Understandable.
I wasn’t expecting him to last long anyways, I just simply wanted him inside me.
“Do you happen to have a condom?” He shook his head. “I’m clean and on the pill. We should be fine. Is that okay?”
He mumbled an ‘uh huh’ as he watched me stand up, as I pushed my underwear down my legs. He immediately reached out to me, bringing me back in and starting placing kisses across my stomach and hips, mirroring what I was doing to him earlier.
“Good, because if you don’t fuck me right now I think I might die.”
‘Yeah-yeah, oh-whoa-whoa (oh, ooh, mmm)
Baby, I need to know, mmm (yeah, need to know)’
He laughed lightheartedly, fixing himself to be sitting up near the headboard. In the process he kicked off his boxers fully, along with his socks.
I followed after him, not letting him stray too far from my reach.
“I heard that women take longer to, erm, get ready,” he muttered into my skin, hiding his face in my neck. “Let me help you?”
“Please,” I whimpered, though I knew I was far from unprepared. I reached behind myself to unclasp my bra, and as soon as it fell down my shoulders Spencer attached his mouth to my left nipple. “Please touch me.”
He moaned into me, bringing his hand down to my core to run his fingers through my folds. He let his middle breach me, moving so agonizingly slow before curling his finger up. I moaned loudly, letting my eyes shut and body fall slack against him. His free arm wrapped around my waist, giving me the support I needed to stay upright.
“So that’s your g-spot?” He grinned against my skin, and I’d be damned to admit it affected me way more than it should have. He sounded so innocent, so eager to learn.
“Uh-huh.”
He explored my skin greedily, brushing over every inch of my chest he could reach. His thrusts became faster every time he re-entered me, encouraged by the grunt that fell from my lips with each one.
“Have you ever done this with a girl before?”
“No,” he replied, moving from my breasts to my collarbone, leaving a dark purple mark in his path.
“Could've fooled me,” I felt him smile against my neck at the praise -- duly noted.
He flipped us over swiftly -- much to my surprise -- and continued with his actions on both my clit and entrance. I did my best to stay quiet, biting down on his shoulder to prevent any noises from leaking out to stop him from getting too cocky.
“Spencer,” I moaned, raking my fingernails up and down his back. “Stop. Please fuck me now, I’m ready.”
“Are you sure you want to? We can stop,” he reassured me in a voice that seemed far too innocent for the activities taking place.
“Spencer, I’m sure. I’m so fucking sure you have no idea.”
I was so turned on I could cry, the pure want running through my veins was starting to send panic signals throughout my whole body. Before I could beg him any further he replaced his fingers with his dick, catching me off guard. He ran the tip over me for a few seconds before gliding in easily, with little to no restriction at all.
“Ah!” I called, gripping onto his shoulder for dear life.
“I’m so sorry, oh my god did I hurt you?” Spencer asked frantically, removing his weight from me and tried sitting up.
“No. God please move, I need you so bad,” I pleaded, pulling him back down before he could get too far away.
He nodded. He started slow. So slowly that I wanted to scream and beg at the top of my lungs for more. However I was above giving him the satisfaction of that -- at least for now.
“You feel so good,” Spencer panted, hips shaking as he slid in and out at a torturous pace.
I pulled his lips back to mine for another kiss, drinking in everything he was willing to offer. I whined every time his body rubbed against my clit in a way that had my toes curling and eyes rolling back.
“This is so much better than I’ve imagined,” I moaned, breaking free from his mouth to lay back against the pillows. I wrapped my legs around his waist, aiding him with the speed of his thrusts. “Please, Spence, oh my god go harder.”
He moaned loudly, and lowered his head to my collarbone in an effort to muffle some of the noises he was letting out.
He followed my directions well -- and I took notes for the future.
The sounds of him bouncing off the walls was amplifying my pleasure to a new degree, it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. His hips snapped forward impossibly faster, leaving him a whimpering mess above me. Our chests were pressed together, the sound of skin slapping and gliding over each other filled the dimly lit room.
“You’re doing so good for me,” I whispered into his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses here and there.
He moaned freely at all of the praise, and every time I urged him on he’d pick up his speed a little bit. He was now moving faster than I thought I could handle, slamming into me at the perfect angle.
I felt him everywhere. In my stomach, insides of my thighs, chest -- where he was now palming at one of my breasts -- and the crook of my neck. I hugged my arms around his middle to keep him locked against me, preventing his hips from heavily backing out.
“I’m really close,” He groaned, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “S-should I pull out now?”
“No,” I demanded, tightening my legs to keep him trapped. “Come inside me.”
He nodded with a particularly loud moan, and snaked one hand down my body to meet my clit. When I gave a sound of approval he quickened his wrist, rubbing me with just the right amount of pressure to send me closer to the edge.
He came with a final shout in my name, resting his full body weight against me as I rocked my him against him to help him through it. I finished soon after, at the feeling of him releasing himself in me. It was so warm, like a comforting blanket that overtook all of my senses.
It was possibly the best orgasm I’d ever had, it was so profound that I couldn’t see, or focus on anything else.
We laid there for a few minutes, my hand running through his hair and his ghosting up the side of my hip. It took a while for us both to catch our breaths, we were too immersed in the moment to break apart from one another.
“That was literally the best sex I’ve had in my life,” I breathed, staring up at the ceiling.
“Same, but I don’t have anything to compare it to,” Spencer replied, and we both laughed weakly.
“That was okay for you? Your first time? Not really the traditional approach.”
“It was perfect. I wouldn’t have asked for anything different,” he pulled himself up with a smile, before pulling out and flopping down beside me.
“But seriously,” I sat up, resting my head on my palm to get a better view of him. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone as I am with you.”
“____,” he blushed. “I-”
“No! No, let me finish. Please.”
He nodded for me to go ahead.
“Not only are you just insanely sweet and so charming, you’re so handsome. Like I can hardly even look at you half the time. You drive me insane, Spencer you have no idea. Holy fuck I’ve never wanted someone so bad before I met you. You’re intoxicating. I can’t get enough. I’ll cringe about this later but I just need you to know.”
“This may not be the most common way...but do you want to go out with me? L-like on a date?” Spencer asked. He was blushing so heavily, his chest was painted pink and ears were turned red.
“You just came inside of me and you’re nervous about asking me on a date.”
“____!” Spencer exclaimed, facepalming himself.
“Yes,” I grinned. “I’d love to go out with you.”
-----
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u know how denki from bnha asks ochako out for lunch but gets ignored? can he ask male reader out and it seems like he’s getting ignored but at the end y/n flirts with him and is like “your turn now”?
pickup lines
pairing: denki kaminari x male!reader
summary: denki pursues y/n with pickup lines.
category: fluff
warning(s): none
word count: 1153
"do you have a band-aid?" denki kaminari asks y/n out of nowhere after class ends.
"are you hurt?" y/n frowns. they didn't have hero training today, and he's pretty sure nothing as eventful as someone getting injured happened in class.
"because i scraped my knee falling for you," kaminari finishes, smiling at how genuinely concerned y/n was.
"don't worry me like that," y/n rolls his eyes playfully.
kaminari sighs. is that his only response to his pickup line?
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
"man, i don't think he's ever gonna like me," kaminari cries.
"stop fucking whining, dunce face!" katsuki bakugo, the ever-so loving friend that he is, shouts at him.
"c'mon, bakugo. our friend's hurting," eijiro kirishima, the genuine angel that he is, frowns, putting a comforting hand on kaminari's shoulder.
"thank you for understanding, kirishima," kaminari lets out a fake sniffle to show how touched he is.
"well, it's not my fucking fault you're a dumbass!"
"how am i a dumbass?" kaminari frowns.
"you're giving up after one stupid ass pickup line? lamest shit i've ever heard."
"bakugo kind of has a point, but i wouldn't call it the 'lamest shit i've ever heard'," kirishima says thoughtfully.
"what? i thought you were on my side," kaminari pouts.
"i was, but you did just start talking to him today," kirishima says.
"but--"
"no fucking excuses! stop bitching about something that you've only just recently grown the balls to start."
"what exactly did you say to him?" hanta sero cuts in, finally done with his homework that kirishima and bakugo had finished together earlier and that kaminari forgot about.
"do you have a band-aid because i scraped my knee falling for you," kaminari mumbles, hiding his face with a pillow.
sero bursting into laughter so intense that he doubles over doesn't help lessen kaminari's embarrassment.
"kaminari," sero wheezes. "y/n's the pretty boy of our entire year. nowadays, his type is super popular, so girls and guys constantly fall for him. you're gonna need to up your game."
"sero's right," kirishima nods, carefully considering the facts laid out before him.
"siding with the enemy again, kirishima?" kaminari whines.
"well, y/n's been getting really popular. the girls might even be more into him than they are todoroki right now."
"and that's exactly why one pathetic pickup line isn't gonna have him falling at your fucking feet," bakugo rolls his eyes.
that's how kaminari set a goal to flirt with y/n at least once a day. hell, he even got a notebook to keep track.
when bakugo, kirishima, and sero first found out about said notebook, they burst out laughing.
after the first few days, they realized that kaminari was serious about it. he was filling it out more diligently than he did his homework.
"this is why you're failing all your classes, fuckhead," bakugo scoffed.
then, on the sixth day they decided to actually read what was inside.
day 1:
line: "did it hurt when you fell? fell from heaven?"
y/n's reaction: this is the second time he has taken the pickup line for its literal meaning, which is saying a lot because it's only the second time i've used one on him. when i said the second part, he responded playfully. was the playfulness him flirting back? what does it mean???
day 2:
line: "you looked super cool during practice today"
y/n's reaction: "thanks, you too"
okay, first off, i know he was lying. i short circuited and looked like a total loser.
second, i think i was too casual. that doesn't even count as flirting. that's like what kirishima would say to bakugo. unless if that's him flirting with explodo-boy?? i can't really tell sometimes
day 3:
line: "even covered in sweat, you're the prettiest."
y/n's reaction: he just rolled his eyes with another playful smile
well, don't blame me! i got nervous, and the day was ending. i needed to make up something! one line a day, and i'm not about to mess it up on the third day
day 4:
line: "you're really hot"
y/n's reaction: he lightly punched my shoulder like a bro would do :(
okay, i know it was just a blunt statement of fact, but it still counts as flirting right?
day 5:
line: "wanna grab a bite some time?"
y/n's reaction: "since uraraka-chan's rejected you, i'm the replacement?" he was smiling and rolling his eyes again!
my first time trying to ask him on a date and he says no. also why does he keep rolling his eyes :( and he's so not the replacement! i asked her to lunch like a whole week ago
day 6:
line: "do you have a map? i keep getting lost in your eyes"
y/n's reaction: he rolled his eyes again! what the heck?? :(
also, this whole not giving up thing is taking a toll on me. rejection hurts
"if you think 'you looked super cool during practice today' is flirting, i--" sero starts.
"i know, i know!" kaminari interrupts with a deep frown. "and why're you looking through that?!"
"what are you, shitty deku?" bakugo asks with a (shocking) lack of volume. he's too stunned by the amount of genuine effort that kaminari's putting into this, albeit weird.
"what?" kaminari's frown deepens if possible. what's he talking about?
"the notebook," sero says, pointing at it as though it were obvious.
"just because i have a notebook doesn't mean i'm midoriya."
"yeah, but obsessively writing details in it is weird," sero points out.
"don't be so mean, guys," kirishima cuts in. kaminari's about to thank him before he continues to say, "maybe it'll help him practice writing letters that we can actually read."
"my handwriting's great, thank you," kaminari defends with a huff.
"now that kirishima mentions it, you write better notes for this than you do for class," sero says, amazed.
"whatever," kaminari groans. "do you guys think i should give up? he's already rejected me."
"he didn't exactly reject you. he just... avoided the question," kirishima says with a pitying smile as he points at day five in his notes.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
the end of the seventh day is approaching, and kaminari can't think of anything anymore. he thinks that maybe he should give up. y/n hasn't been reciprocating, so maybe he just doesn't see kaminari that way.
with those thoughts haunting him, he decides to leave it be.
he sits at his desk as the class is dismissed for the day, defeatedly staring at his notebook.
he's about to stand up and shuffle out of the classroom like most of the other students are when he feels a presence next to him.
"if i sat on your lap, would that make you an electric chair?" y/n asks with a coy smile.
"what--" kaminari blushes a bright red at his words.
"didn't want you to miss a day in your log," y/n winks as he points at the notebook.
"you knew about--?"
"your move, pikachu," y/n presses soft lips against a red cheek before waving goodbye.
❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥
a/n;
ahhh idk if it's bad or not but i hope it's okay anon!
#kaminari denki#denki kaminari#bnha#boku no hero x reader#boku no hero academia#x male reader#denki kaminari x male reader#kaminari denki x male reader#idk how to tag sorry#male reader insert#fluff#mlm
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Just gonna leave this here: a quirk that turns Hawks into an actual hawk version of himself that can talk, and his poor s/o must be his falconer until the quirk wears off. Alternatively, Dabi getting chibi’d. MANY LOLS TO BE HAD. And also burnt pants pockets, if I’m not mistaken.
If Hawks was a bird, I’d imagine his appearance would resemble a Brahminy Kite aka red-backed sea eagle. Yeah, I know they’re not exactly hawks but it’s such a perfect look for him. Though I’d imagine his front plumage to look more blonde than white.
The news reporters were already swarming him. At least give him a chance to breathe; this was probably more shocking to himself than it was to them. It’s also just a little intimidating to have so many people several times his height squatting down and shoving mics into his little beak.
“Did you see the villain that did this to you, Hawks?”
“How long will this quirk last?”
“Will you be able to carry on with hero work in this condition?”
“What do you have to say to your fangirls right now?”
“Would you be willing to have a photoshoot with us and promote our bird shop?”
He raises his wings (man, it’s weird when they’re your only upper limbs) and attempts to calm everyone down.
“Relax, everyone. I’ll have this all fixed up soon, I promise! And don’t think I’ll be taking a break from hero work just because I’m small enough to perch on your arm. You villains out there better stay put!”
The flashing cameras hurt. His eyes felt more sensitive than ever.
Of course, that was a bit of a lie. Hell no, he isn’t fighting any competent villain while he’s a literal bird, but he already knows that the Hero Commission isn’t going to let him sit back even while he looks like this.
-----------------
What the fuck were you watching.
A group of reporters were crowding a bird that had just hopped out of your lover’s hero outfit which was piled on the floor. And they were calling the bird Hawks.
And then the bird spoke. With Hawks’s voice.
No way.
A bit less than an hour after those surreal interviews, a rapping sound was heard at your window. Lo and behold, the same bird you’ve been looking at all over the Tweeter feed was waving at you as he waited patiently to be let in.
You didn’t know where to even start as he waddled in, unsteady on legs that bended in ways he wasn’t used to, and large talons that scratched every surface.
“Did ya miss me, baby bird?” Wow, he really just used his seductive voice.
Your discussion with him about what he plans to do while in his current form is as awkward as you expected, with one extra curve-ball thrown in.
Your face looms over his smaller head. “What do you mean you need me on your patrols? Patrols that you shouldn’t even be doing right now?”
He shakes and puffs up his feathers. “You’ll be my partner in crime! Well, more like you’ll be the one carrying my goods around and answering calls while I take down bad guys. And I have to make sure I always have a good takeoff spot, since I’m not as quick and limber of a flyer as I usually am. It’ll be safe, I promise.”
-----------------
It wasn’t very safe.
Sneaking up on a villain in a sketchy ally was not safe at all. Hawks was unknowingly digging his talons into your skin as he kept his body low, his wings only half-folded in case he needed to fly at any moment.
With a signaling squeeze (ouch), you swung your arm as he leapt off and flew toward the unassuming criminal.
It was...ridiculous, watching what was an intimidating man make high-pitched yelps of surprise and swat at the hawk flapping around his head. All respect as a villain is probably lost if you’re subdued by a bird that isn’t even half your size.
“Now!” Hawks shouted while he had the man’s arms pinned behind his back.
You rushed in to click the handcuffs around his wrists.
“That’s your third arrest, baby bird! You oughta try for a hero license!” He praised you with a wink.
“Thanks, but I’d rather have this entire fever dream end as soon as possible.”
His phone vibrated in your pocket and you withdrew it to see which sidekick or Commission member was calling him this time. Instead, a strange name popped up.
“Who is...‘Burnt Bitch’?”
Hawks swooped in and snatched the phone out of your hands before you could even blink.
“Aheheheh, sorry love! This is a personal call that I gotta take myself!” He flew out of your sight, leaving you to handle the humiliated and angry villain by yourself.
-----------------
Hawks swore when he scratched his screen as he attempted to answer the call. Dammit, Dabi sure was a master of contacting him at inconvenient times.
Having finally pressed the button, he gave his usual greeting to the fiery villain. “What’s up, Dabs?”
“So you’re a literal birdbrain right now, are you? Pretty hilarious.”
That...was not Dabi’s voice.
“Um, why do you sound like a chipmunk?”
“...I’m just using a voice changer,” the squeaky villain said. “I shouldn’t make myself too obvious when talking to you.”
Hawks scratched his head, flinching when he nearly poked his eye. “You’re just now deciding to do that, and you couldn’t pick a voice that I’d actually take seriously?”
“Like you’re one to talk. I’m impressed you managed to answer the phone without any hands. You’re meeting up with me at the usual spot tonight.”
“...Tonight?”
Dabi groaned, which sounded more like those low meows that angry cats do. “Did I stutter? Those holes in your bird head work, right? And you better not laugh when you get here.”
Click.
Hawks’s inner eyelids blinked rapidly at the phone. What would he laugh about?
-----------------
Oh.
That’s what.
Hawks rested on a trash can as he watched Dabi emerge from the shadows behind the abandoned building. He was pretty far away, his form slowly getting bigger as he got closer. Although...Hawks is pretty sure that he should look a lot bigger from that distance. Maybe the angle of his giant eyes was screwing up his depth perception.
It was only when Dabi was right in front of him did Hawks realize that the villain was the size of a toddler.
He tried not to let any laughter slip past his beak, and failed miserably.
“What did I fucking tell you?” Dabi growled in his helium voice. Oh god he wasn’t using a voice changer on the phone.
That made the bird hero laugh even harder, wings outstretched as he tried to keep his balance. “Wh-wha...” He struggled to speak between wheezes. “What the hell happened?”
Dabi shuffled in his kiddie hoodie. “Some dumbass thug thought it would be funny to chibify me. I thought it would be funny to turn him into ash, so I did.”
“Really? Do you know if it wears off overtime or did you just kill the poor guy without asking questions?”
“......”
“Holy shit!” Another fit of squawking laughter. “You might be adorable forever!”
A blue flame appeared in his tiny baby hands oh my god he’s so cute!
“Unlike you, I can still use my quirk, so keep talking if you want to become the fried chicken you love so much.”
"You-” Cough. “You don’t even need your fire.” Hawks's feathers were fully fluffed out as he tried to breathe. “If you keep talking with that high voice, I’m gonna keel over!”
A tiny scarred hand around his neck finally silenced him with a startled screech.
“You tweety little bastard.”
Hawks cracked up again as he choked.
-----------------
Shouta Aizawa has come across many strange sights during his late night patrols. Some of them gruesome, some of them obscene, and some that are just too weird to even be questioned.
Finding a child concealed in an oversized hoodie in a bout of fisticuffs with a bird of prey was in the third category.
He couldn’t even tell who was winning. The kid would sometimes get a hold of the bird for no more than a few seconds before a sharp beak digs into his hand and forces him to let go. It was the strangest wrestle that the underground hero had ever witnessed.
“Aww, try again, little baby! You almost had me that time!”
Wait a minute. That voice...
Right, Hawks was still doing work even though he was a damn actual hawk. Well, he probably doesn’t need his help with an unruly brat.
Aizawa walked away from the scuffle and continued his scouting. There are real dangers out here that need to be taken care of.
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He is 6′3...
How will the great Ushijima Wakatoshi handle rejection?
Ushijima x Reader
I have been wanting to post more but I’ve been watching Naruto all day because I had the genius idea to rewatch the series from the very beginning... My plan to post more will have to wait until later. Anyways this was in my drafts, I have so much fun writing Ushijima because he’s just so unique. LOL idk what this is.
WC- 1,841
~~~
“Oikawa is going to look so good out there.” Mei sighs pleasantly, grabbing your arm tightly as the two of you walk into the city gym. You roll your eyes at her tiny crush before grabbing one of the programs from the vendors.
“Save those noises for him stupid.” You tease and hand the clerk three hundred yen for the magazine. Mei gasps and slaps your arm out of embarrassment and you laugh hard as you try to get away from her. “It’s going to be fun to cheer for them.”
“(Y/N) you have to be here, you don’t even get a choice.” Mei narrows her eyes at you playfully, knowing fully well you wouldn’t be here to support her in the conquest that is Oikawa Toru’s love had it not been for student government obligations.
“Honestly Mei, Oikawa is cute but let's be real all the third years are hot.” You thumb through the magazine before landing on your own school's page. “Like Hanamaki and Matsukawa and Iwaizumi could all get it as well as Oikawa.” The comment comes out so nonchalant that Mei doesn’t even have time to process what you’re saying. Quietly you continue to flip through the pages when your friend’s hand slaps your arm. The program falls to the floor and you let out a yelp as you stinging clutch your bicep.
“You’re gross!” Mei squeals innocently and you roll your eyes once again as you bend down to reach for the paper. “Should a student council president speak like that?”
“You can’t tell me you wouldn’t fuck them if you didn’t know them.” You deadpan and your friend turns red at the question, vigoursly shaking her head. “Hush, I know you would.” Letting out a huff you look at the page you were on, nodding in approval at the ace of Karasuno. “Let’s play fuck or not fuck, but only with the third years.” Your eyes land on the Shiratorizawa page and you let out a disgusted sound before flipping the page to DateTech.
“Wait you missed the purple school.” Mei points out and you shake your head.
“Fuck the purple school.” You mutter childishly and Mei tilts her head in confusion. “Those stupid kids always think they’re better than everyone just because they go to Shiratorizawa. Like news flash, their school is no better than ours.” Your eyes narrow out of irritation and Mei’s eyes light up in realization.
“Is this because of that boy-“
“Yes, it is because of that boy and their student council! They can all choke!” Your voice raises and you grip the magazine tighter. Mei looks at you and then freezes when she notices the team standing behind you. “What- ah shit.” You curse lowly when you turn around and face the entire Shiratorizawa team who no doubt heard everything you’d just said.
With the confidence only a bitch such as yourself could have you stare at them, daring any of them to say anything to you. The following moments are silent and tense as you continue to wait, cocking your head intimidatingly. You refuse to break eye contact with any of them as your eyes narrow but when you realize they aren’t going to say anything you simply roll your eyes and turn back around.
“Let’s go I wanna go say hi to Oikawa before the game starts.” You announce childishly, turning your nose into the air.
“Oikawa!” Mei squeals and happily allows you to drag her towards the bleachers.
Tendou clasps his hands behind his back and innocently pears up at his friend as another wave of silence falls over the team.
“Wakatoshi-kun isn’t that the girl that you bumped into the other day causing her to fall on her ass in front of our student council which then lead them to laugh at her and ask her why a middle schooler was trying to enter a high school student council meeting?” Tendou asks with wide eyes and Semi visibly flinches, the cringe due to the lack of gracefulness his captain has. “And then she turned out to be the student body president of Seijoh and as she was cussing you out she had no idea who you were so then she got her ass handed to her by our student body president and he threatened to sue her?” Semi did not think the story could get any worse and it in fact did. Reon’s jaw drops as he stares at the two who look like they are simply discussing the weather.
“Yes that would be her.” Ushijima answers truthfully and Tendou nods his head in confimration before sighing and throwing his hands into the air.
“She has a right to be mad.” The red head defends and the two start to walk away leaving a very confused Reon and Semi behind as the rest of the team trails behind the other third years.
“Okay, fuck.” You point to the ace from Karasuno and Mei nods her head in agreement as she pulls out her phone.
“My friend down in Tokyo has a really hot third year at her school.” The picture you’re looking at causes your jaw to drop, his messy black hair and large build almost has you melting into your seat. “Fuck.” Mei giggles and confirms for you. “Fuck.” She points to the wing spiker of Wakutani and you have to think for a moment before nodding your head. “Obviously Oikawa belongs in the category too.” She blushes deeply as she stares at the captain of your school’s volleyball team.
“Defenitely and he’s a nice guy too so that is bonus points.” You continue to flip through your own pamphlet, not noticing the group of boys walk past you. More especially the boy who stops in front of you. The eyesore of maroon glaring down at you causes you to raise an eyebrow as distaste to fills your mouth. “Yes?” You barley give him the time of day, glancing at the tall boy once before looking back down at the paper in front of you.
“I need to talk to you in private.” The almost sounding command causes a noise of confusion to leave your lips as you scowl up at him. You almost start to laugh. However, your eyes drag up his body and you narrow your eyes to try to hide any interest. A tracksuit should not look so good on an asshole. With an irritated sigh, you place the magazine down in your seat after you stand up beside him, your glare hardening as you wait for him to move. He only blinks, his face stotic, before the two of you walk down the stairs to one of the abandoned hallways.
“I am Ushijima Wakatoshi.” He introduces and you continue to stare at him blankly, most of the time your stare would cause any sane person to look away but with your luck, olive eyes simply stare back at you. “I want to apologize, it seems I have offended you.” His apology has your eye twitching, your hands bunch into fists as you refrain from poking his chest.
“I had to write an apology letter to you snotty assholes when you were the one who bumped into me!” You seethe, subconsciously feeling guilty for taking your anger out on him. Ushijima stares down at you, your teeth gritted together like a small dog, he tilts his head slightly to get a better look at you.
“I was distracted by you, I apologize.” He restates and you look up at him as if he was sporting three heads.
“Why are you even apologizing to me, why do you even care?” You bite, crossing your arms over your chest pettily and Ushijima starts to look elsewhere to refrain from looking at your chest.
“I noticed that I upset you and I wanted to say I was sorry.” His answer causes your heart to skip a beat and you feel like your world is slowing down, a rose tint covering the boy in front of you. This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening.
“Oh, umm,” You bite the inside of your cheek in thought as you stare down at your feet, unsure of what to say. “Thank you for apologizing. I am also sorry for calling you the names that I did. I wasn’t even really mad at you, moreso your student government.” You mumble, unable to look him in the eyes.
“I accept your apology.” Ushijima acknowledges and you feel your eye twitch again at his bluntness. “I will take you to lunch one day as an apology for the embarassmnet you suffered from.” Before you can quite literally tear his head off at that comment, Ushijima places his hand on the small of your back. “After you.” He nudges you towards the stairs and you clench your fists by your hips.
“Alright.” You refrain from snapping as you walk back towards your seat, the intimidating Ushijima Wakatoshi on your heels standing over you protectively. Not that you could see it anyway. When you finally get to your seat, you pratically throw yourself into the chair. Ushijima is still standing in front of you and you can feel the irritation bubblign in yoru chest. “What?”
“I will give you my contact information later so we can discuss a meeting point for lunch.” He gives you a slight bow before walkign back to where his team is and you can only watch as he walks away, your eyes burnign holes in his back.
“What the fuck.” You gasp out loud as you turn back to face Mei, who has an equal expression of horror written on her face.
“He asked you out?!” She squeals so loud you’re sure half of the gym had just heard her.
“No! Are you insane? You think I would say yes to him?!” You spit and Mei shrugs while glancing at the magazine in her lap.
“I mean he is 6′3.” Her eyes are filling with mischeif at your weakness for height and you try to hold your stubborn glare.
“I am stronger than this, I don’t care.” A lie straight through your teeth and you turn your nose at her.
“And his thighs are so-” Your eye twitches as she continues to go on, staring down at his picture on the page.
“Mei.” You call out calmly.
“Yes”
“Keep talking and I’ll make sure that you have no chance with Oikawa.” You threaten and Mei’s eyes widen.
“You wouldn’t.” She gasps in horror and you hold your stare, her hand clutches at her chest dramatically. “You would! (Y/N)!” Sadly you can’t keep up the facade for too long and your face falls as you fall into a fit of laughter. Mei only slaps your arm and flicks through the magazine pettily.
“That’s an interesting person for your affections.” Tendou teases Ushijima, his red eyes watching you from afar. “Did your apology work?”
“No.” The ace responds, his face hard like he didn’t take a slap of rejection across the face.
“Don’t worry Wakatoshi-kun, there’s always tomorrow!”
#ushijima wakatoshi x reader#haikyuu ushijima#ushijima x reader#haikyuu fic#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#seijoh manager#idk what this is
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Island Dreams - Chapter 17
Chapter 17 for you all.
It's finally moving in day and they have some fun and their relationships takes another step forward.
Rowan gets into an accident and he finds himself married :)
I hope you will enjoy this.
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Moving day had arrived and gone. Aelin had been sad about leaving her house but the idea of living with Rowan was far more exciting. In the end they did manage to move everything on the Saturday. After Lysandra had gone back to London, Aelin had asked her to ship all of her boxes there and that felt like the final step. She was definitely not going back. This was it. This was her new life. Hopefully with Rowan in it.
Moving boxed had been exhausting and now it was Sunday and she was staring at the mess that was her bedroom and was trying to decide where to start to tackle the indecent amount of boxes.
Luckily Rowan had solved the book problem for her. Her thirty five boxes of books had joined his extra book storage in the attic. He had joked that he might eventually turn the place in a library and Aelin had responded telling him that it was a brilliant idea.
She was busy unpacking her clothes when Rowan’s head popped in her room announcing that lunch was ready.
“You are wonderful.” She joined him in the kitchen isle and was ready to tuck in in another one of his wonderful meals.
“Did your aunt teach you to cook?”
“She did.” He answered without elaborating any further. He had briefly mentioned once that he had lost his parents but never expanded on the subject and she was not going to press him on a topic that was clearly going to cause him pain.
She ate the food with a happy face and Rowan thought he would be happy to cook for her forever just to watch the smile of satisfaction painted on her face.
After they polished their meal, Aelin offered to help clean. It seemed only fair. Once done she went back to her room and deal with the boxes that were still staring at her. All of her clothes were spread on the bed and she was trying to divide them into categories. At the bottom of a box she had also found a couple of her old scrubs and nostalgia had hit her hard.
One box was full of knick knacks and she pushed it aside. Definitely low priority. One last box had pictures frames to be hanged on the walls. Most of them were of her and Lysandra but at the bottom she had found one of her and Chaol that had survived the purge. She threw the thing on the bed and went back to her mission: organise her wardrobe.
A few hours later she was half way through her boxes and she had not noticed Rowan leaning against the door staring at her with a half smile.
Aelin was sitting on the floor and seemed defeated.
“Unpacking not going well?”
“I hate it. I never realised how much stuff I had. When I packed everything I had Aedion and Lysandra and all we did was just dump stuff in boxes. They were trying to get me out of that house as soon as possible.
Rowan sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes caught the photo abandoned on it. He took it “Is this him?”
“We took that the night we got engaged. I have scrubs on because he proposed at the hospital where we met. That photo survived the purge. It needs to be destroyed.”
Rowan noticed the pain in her eyes. No matter how much she hated her ex husband, he could tell that whatever they had it had mattered to her and she was still hurting about it.
He put the photo down and noticed a black dress. He leaned forward and grabbed it out of curiosity.
“I bought for a charity event. Wore it once and never had the chance to use it again.” She explained when she saw him staring at it in curiosity.
In reality Rowan was imagining her in that dress. All of a sudden he was glad he was sitting down.
Aelin saw his stare and grabbed the dress from his hands, a wicked smile on her face “Stay there,” she told him, leaving him alone in the bedroom.
When she came back ten minutes later Rowan noticed her and almost had a heart attack. She was stunning.
The dress hugged her curves perfectly, it had a cut on one side exposing her leg up to the knee. It was sleeveless and the top of the corset reached just under her collarbone.
She turned around and showed him the whole thing and Aelin noticed desire burning in his eyes.
“What do you think?”
He took a step to her and his hands were on her waist “That I don’t want you to wear this dress outside. I want this view all for myself.” His voice was rough and a bit breathless.
Aelin laughed and kissed him and Rowan pushed her against the wardrobe and pinned her there. Her hands went to his butt and pushed him closer to her body.
His hand sneaked through the cut of the dress and cupped her butt and gasped when he realised she was not wearing anything underneath.
“You will be the death of me.” He breathed against her neck where he was depositing hot kisses making her shiver.
“Against a wall is another one of my fantasies…” she whispered in his ear and she felt his hand move in between her legs.
“Good.” He added locking his mouth on her “it’s another one of my special skills.” Rowan deepened the kiss, her mouth opening to him. Her tongue gently brushing against his.
His fingers slipped between her legs and gently brushed her sensitive spot. Aelin moaned and arched her back against him.
Then all of a sudden the magic broke as he pulled away from her, kissed her forehead and walked away.
Aelin’s growl of frustration was loud “Whitethorn!” Aelin shouted following to the living room “You can’t.” She groaned, frustration now rising high. What was his problem? “You always do that, you tease me, you get me all hot and then you leave.”
Rowan gave her a tight smile and took a step closer, his mouth to her ear “So that when I can finally have you it will be amazing.”
“And very short.” She lashed back “Because I will be so horny that I will have an orgasm at your first touch and it will last seconds.” Her eyes now fixed on his.
“Who said that we can’t have a second a third and why not a fourth time? I have stamina.”
Aelin growled and ran back to her room and slammed the door quite hard.
She groaned for another few minutes while she changed back in her comfortable clothes. “Damn he is infuriating.” She threw the dress in one of the drawers and lay down on the bed staring at the ceiling. She wanted him so badly that she was sure she was going to combust very soon.
She took a deep breath and then got up again and finished to tidy up everything.
An hour later the boxes were finally gone and she had finished decorating it with her stuff and the pictures and eventually it started to feel like her place. She looked at the place and smiled happily at the final job.
She picked up the flattened boxes and left the room. Rowan was in the living room reading a book on the sofa and she ignored him as she passed behind him and headed outside to bin the boxes.
When she came back Rowan was looking at her.
“All done?”
She stormed to her bedroom and slammed the door again.
Later on when she was sitting on her bed reading, she heard a knock on the door and Rowan’s voice telling her that dinner was ready.
She gave in and joined him in the kitchen not without giving him a cold stare.
“I am sorry,” he said.
She sighed “it’s okay.”
He gave offered her a plate with some food “I didn’t mean to piss you off this much.”
“I am not.”
He scoffed “Yes, you are.”
She slammed the fork on the table “Fine. I am. I am, because damn it but I want you, okay? It’s been driving me nuts.” She finally let out her frustration “And I get it, we have a promise and I will wait but this is new. Chaol never made me feel like this. None of the guys before him did. You do. You set my body on fire with just a touch and all I want is for you to slam me against a wall and fuck me so hard that I forget my name.”
“I am really good at that…” he smirked and Aelin’s heart lightened. She could not be mad at him. Not when he smiled at her like that.
“Someone has a high opinion of himself.”
“I definitely can make you forget your name. To be honest, I am positive I can do that just with a kiss.” He kept eating never averting his gaze from her.
“You can do that by just be beside me sometimes.” She admitted. That’s how mad about him she was.
“Dinner is lovely, by the way. Thank you.” She finally conceded.
He smiled at her warmly. And like that their little fight was over.
“So, what do you do in the evening?”
“Read mostly. As you can see I don’t have a tv.”
“I have a laptop with Netflix.” Explained Aelin and he looked at her with confusion.
“Netflix is a website where you can watch movies and series. I pay a small amount every month. They add loads of content very regularly.” She took a bite of the chocolate cake she was sure came from his aunt. “We can watch something together.”
“I guess we can do that.”
“Perfect.”
After dinner Aelin had offered to clean up the kitchen since he had cooked. Once she was done she joined him in the living room and brought her laptop with her. She sat beside him, a blanket on their legs and the pc on it. She snuggled close and started browsing Netflix. “We can watch Brooklyn nine nine. It’s one of my favourites. It’s a bunch of detectives in New York. It’s hilarious but has some great storylines as well.”
“We can watch something new. You don’t have to rewatch it just for me.”
Aelin turned to him “I rewatch it regularly. I love it so much.”
“Okay.” He said kissing her head.
Ten minutes later she noticed that Rowan was actually quite involved “I like her.” He said pointing at Detective Santiago.
“She is awesome.”
“Those two are ending up together. I bet on it.” He commented pointing at Santiago and Peralta and Aelin squeezed his hand.
“I like the new captain.”
Aelin looked at him but his stare was fixed on the screen and she loved his relaxed face. Her hand caressed his hair and his eyes closed at the contact. Then trailed down and traced his ear and finally placed a very brief kiss on his neck.
“She is hot. Santiago I mean.” And Aelin laughed.
They binged watched the first season that Aelin decided to call it a night. She was tired from all the moving.
“We can continue tomorrow.”
He nodded happily.
“Good night, my heart.” She said kissing him.
Their home arrangements slowly set into a regular rhythm and Aelin adapted to his way of living. She still felt like a guest and she wanted to make sure she was not disrupting his life too much. He would cook and she would clean the kitchen. She would help him with chores around the house.
In their free time Rowan took upon him the task of teaching her to cook. They began with something very simple. Aelin was a quick learner and she also managed to prepare lunch a couple of times without burning down the house.
One night he was in bed and sleep was evading her. She tossed a few times and then her arm extended to the empty side of her bed. She sighed. Since she and Rowan had gotten back from their little holiday she had missed his presence at her side at night. His arms around her and his warmth.
She closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep..
“Damn,” she groaned in frustration throwing the sheets at the bottom of the bed. She sat up and decided to get up.
After pacing for a few minutes in her bedroom she walked out of the room and reached his.
“Rowan?”
“Are you okay?” He asked switching the light on and sitting up in his bed.
His hair was tousled from sleep and she thought he looked sexy.
“I can’t sleep.” She said not moving from her spot on the doorstep. She would not move until he gave her permission.
“Come here.” He said patting the bed beside him.
She smiled and joined him. He lay down again and she snuggled against him and smiled when she felt his arms wrap around her, one around her chest and the other lower around the waist. His head tucked in the crook of her neck.
She turned to face him “Since our trip I miss not having you beside me at night.”
“Do you now?” He huffed against her skin.
Aelin nodded and squeezed closer. Gods it felt so good to be in his arms.
Rowan sighed “Do you want to sleep with me?” Then he heard how his sentenced sounded like “I mean you can stay in my bed and sleep in here if you like it.”
Aelin looked up at him and smiled “I’d love to.” A kiss on his nose “But I am leaving my stuff in my room. I can’t move my things again.”
“It sounds like a plan.”
From that night Aelin had officially moved in his bedroom. She had finally started sleeping soundly again. They had added another milestone in their relationship.
It was of the weekly mornings when Rowan had gone to teach his swimming classes and she was in charge of the bookshop and she was loving it.
Aelin looked at her watch for the billionth time in the past ten minutes. Rowan was late. He would always come back at the same time but that day he was late. Over an hour late now and panic began to settle in her. He hadn’t texted her and that was unusual as well. He had always texted even if he was going to be five minutes late to open the shop. Which he knew it was not going to be an issue since he had given her a set of keys a while ago.
She paced and could not concentrate on anything. In the end she caved and phoned him. The phone rang a few times. She was about to hang up when he answered.
“Rowan Whitethorn, were the fuck are you?”
A woman’s voice replied at the other end and Aelin’s heart started racing. Why was another woman answering his phone? He would not cheat on her.
“Hello?” Said the voice on the other side and Aelin woke up.
“Yes, who are you? Where is Rowan?”
“My name is Dr Jamieson. Are you a relative of Mr Whitethorn?” And she almost felt sick. She had done plenty of those phone calls to know that it was not a good sign. She sat down on the chair behind the counter and placed her free hand on her knee to stop it from shaking. “Mr Whitethorn has been admitted to the hospital following a car accident.”
Aelin’s brain stopped working. She could not think and definitely she could not breath.
“Is… he…”
“We should discuss it here at the hospital. Are you a relative?”
Aelin froze. She knew hospital policy and they were not allowed to disclose the situation of the patient to someone who was not family. And they weren’t and a roommate was not in the list of the people allowed. Fuck. Her brain was too shocked to think properly.
“I am his wife.” Her mouth uttered and she froze “I am on my way there. Is he still in the A&E?”
“He has been taken for a CT scan. When you arrive ask for me.”
Aelin thanked the woman and took a deep breath and coerced her brain to start working again. Quickly she closed the shop and went back home to get her car.
Within ten minutes she was at the hospital, dropped the car at the parking and ran as fast as she could to the A&E.
At the reception she asked for Dr. Jamieson and to tell the woman that Mrs Whitethorn was here. She had to remember her act.
Five minutes later the doctor arrived and shook her hand.
“How is he? Can I see him? Is he out of the CT?”
“Mrs Whitethorn, your husband will be back from the CT exam quite soon. He was involved in a frontal crash. The paramedics found him unconscious and his head took a hit. We believe it was from rebound from the seat belts. Very likely his head hit the window pretty hard, that’s why the CT scan. He has few bruises on his ribs and torso due to the seat belts. Nothing is broken but he will be sore for a while.”
“Have you checked his abdomen for internal injuries? Are his legs fine?” Her A&E training kicked in and she went through all the possible injuries from such an accident.
The woman in front of her looked at her with the type of look that Aelin used to give to family members that tried to tell her how to do her job.
Aelin sighed “I am a cardio thoracic surgeon. I have worked in an A&E long enough and seen enough accidents…”
“I had a feeling. You did not ask the usual questions family members ask.” The doctor gave her a faint smile “I guess he will be in his room by now. If the CT comes back clear you will be able to take him home tonight but he will need to be at rest for a while.”
“Thank you.”
The doctor accompanied her to his room and she stopped outside for a moment. She took a deep breath and finally opened the door of his room.
A sigh of relief left her when she saw him awake.
“Hey…” she ran to him and kissed him while tears ran down her cheeks. She had been terrified.
He tried to hug her back but his body protested at the idea of him moving.
“Don’t move. You bruised your chest and your ribs.” Then she looked at the cut on his head and noted that luckily was not deep enough to require stitches. Gently she kissed it “No stitches.” And she sat down on the bed beside him and took his hand in hers.
Dr Jamieson entered the room while she was kissing his forehead.
“Mrs Whitethorn, your husband’s CT is clear. He has a very mild concussion and might experience some headache. If…”
“If he gets dizzy, has double vision, gets confused or struggles to stay awake bring him back to the A&E. I know the drill.”
The woman smiled and nodded “I will have your discharge paper ready in an hour.” And she left and Rowan was staring at her with wide eyes.
“I can explain,” she said knowing full well the reason of that stare “Hospital policy is that they can’t disclose information to non family members. So I had to lie. I couldn’t say I was your sister because well, it was not believable so… my only option was to say that I was your wife. I am sorry.”
Rowan started laughing but he stopped when his ribs caused him pain “It’s fine, I think it’s cute.”
“I think it’s the concussion speaking.” And she kissed him again “I was terrified.” She took a deep breath “although before that I was mad at you for being late and not telling me anything. Then I phoned you and a woman picked up. Until she told she was a doctor I thought you were cheating on me.”
He leaned his forehead against hers “Never. I would never do such a horrible thing to you.”
“We are going home soon, and once we do, you will have to listen to me.”
He tried to reply but she put a finger on his lips “No. I don’t care. I am the doctor and you will do as I say. You will stay at home and rest. I will look after the bookshop. And this is not open for debate.”
“Looks like I got myself a very stern wife.” He kissed her.
“Jokes aside, how do you feel?”
“A bit of a headache and very sore.” He leaned back on the pillow.
“How did you get in an accident. You are such a careful driver.”
He flinched “I left the school, at a roundabout an idiot with a van did not respect his turn and I drove straight into him. The car—”
“Shh… we’ll deal with the car later.”
An hour later the doctor came back with the discharge paper “I prescribed some painkillers. He will need rest. No work for at least three days.”
“Thank you doctor.” And the woman left again.
“Come, let’s get you back in your clothes.”
Rowan pushed his legs off the bed and Aelin helped him remove his hospital gown.
Of course he was naked under it and she almost gasped at his bare body.
“Dear wife, never seen your husband naked?” He joked and she tried to keep her eyes up. As a doctor she had seen naked men plenty of times, but seeing him was different.
“Ok, let’s try to put the t-shirt on. This may hurt.”
And it did. Because of his bruises he was in pain and lifting his arms was not an easy task.
“Slowly…” they finally managed and he decided to ignore the hoodie. It was not cold outside. Then she helped him with his underwear and trousers. He leaned against her and she tried to hide her massive blush when she caught a peek by mistake. Gods, the man was perfect.
“How is your shoulder?”
“It’s fine.”
Aelin looked at him with the expression of a doctor who caught his patient lie.
“Look.” He moved it in circles and she noticed that he was moving it easily and without discomfort.
“If you are lying, your are dead, dear husband.”
He kissed her “I love you, my dear wife.”
Before heading home Aelin stopped at the pharmacy and got the medicines the doctor had prescribed.
Once at home, she pushed Rowan to the bedroom. He protested saying that it was day and he could stay on the sofa but he discovered very quickly that Aelin in doctor mode was a bit of a despot.
“Just for today. Tomorrow we’ll organise the living room so you can camp there during the day but today I am home and you will stay in bed.”
“Fine.” He yielded.
She went to his drawer and got some clean bed clothes.
“Not again.”
“You are not coming to bed with that t-shirt. First, there is blood on it. Second it’s dirty and I changed the sheets this morning.”
“You are so mean.” He complained.
Aelin grabbed a tube “wait.” She told him when she noticed he was about to try and put the t-shirt back on “This gel will help reduce the bruises and reduce the inflammation.” She spread a bit of the gel on his chest with circular motions being very careful not to cause any more pain. Once she was done she helped him put the t-shirt back on “We’ll put a bit more tonight before bed.”
“I have my very own sexy personal nurse.”
She grinned in response “Yes, and you’d better listen to her.”
She helped him to get into bed and then left the room and came back with a glass of water and some pills “Take these, they will help the headache and reduce the pain in general.”
Rowan followed orders and she then sat happily beside him on the bed.
“Do you want me to get you a book?”
Rowan shook his head “I don’t feel too great to read just now.”
She caressed his head and kissed his forehead “just sleep a bit, then.”
“We can watch one of your shows.”
She grinned. Rowan did not have a tv but she had Netflix on her laptop so she had introduced him to some of her favourite series. At the moment they were to season two of Brooklyn nine nine and Rowan seemed to love it.
“I’ll be back.” When she did she had a bed tray and her laptop. She made sure Rowan was comfortable and not in a position that would cause him pain. Then she placed the tray on the bed and her laptop on it.
She put her pyjama on and snuggled under the blankets with him and curled up to his chest, and her arm around his waist.
“Are you okay?”
“Perfect.” He kissed the top of her head.
“Are we continuing with Brooklyn nine nine?”
He nodded and she started Netflix.
A few hours later Aelin woke up and noticed they had both fallen asleep.
She closed her laptop and placed on the floor on her side of her bed.
Rowan woke in that instant.
“Shhh go back to sleep.” She soothed.
He lay down again and she snuggled against him. Her hand went gently on his chest and brushed it gently. She had been terrified when she was told he had been in an accident. Until she saw him in his room awake she could not push away the terror in her heart.
She felt his heart beat steadily and she finally relaxed and eventually fell asleep as well.
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Heaven In Secret - Bryce x MC | Part II
Book/Pairing(s): MC x Bryce
Word Count: Part II - 850 words
Rating: 18+ due to swearing and mature scenes in later chapters of the fanfic.
Summary: This fanfic is based on the imagined scenes after Bryce asks MC to leave separately in the latest open heart: Third Year Chapter. I know that Bryce is back to ‘normal’ in the most recent chapter but a few people liked Part I so!
Category: Mini series, angst and a little bit of fluff. I promise the angst will die down after this!
Warnings / Trope: Swearing, mature scenes
*gifs are not mine
Song: illicit affairs - taylor swift | Make sure nobody sees you leave. Hood over your head, keep your eyes down. Tell your friends you're out for a run, you’ll be flushed when you return. And you know damn well for you, I would ruin myself a million little times.
Casey was ready to go home, crawl into bed and cry it out. She wasn’t one to be upset over a guy. Even if that guy was Bryce Lahela. But this was different. She was ready to go to bed and hope tomorrow, she’s wake up and pray for a miracle that all feeling of Bryce would be gone. That is until Bryce turns up at her door.
tags: @lahellacute @dalishessence - if you want to be tagged, let me know!
Bryce walked into the living room of Casey and the rest of the intern's penthouse. He had been in here thousand of times before, parties, secret meet-ups with Casey, late-night moments when Casey was alone in the house whilst the group were working night shifts. But there was always a catch: he would find himself sneaking out almost every time.
"Bryce, why are you here?" Casey bit her lip as she tried to keep herself together. Looking at him felt as though it physically hurt her chest. Her mind was racing at the reasons why Bryce showed up at her door. Was he going to break up with her? There's nothing to break up, she thought to herself. You aren't even together. "If you're here to fuck with my head some more, just leave now."
Bryce sighed, running his hand through his hair again. "It's not like that, Casey."
"Then what is it like, Bryce? We've been chasing each other for two fucking years. Two years. After everything we've been through... countless nights I spent at your apartment whilst you vented about your family, almost dying and all I could think about was you, then holding you in my arms when you broke down after Danny's funeral?” She winced at the mention of Danny, trying to suppress the trauma from that day. “And this is how you act? Making me leave separately as if I was a hook-up at the hospital, like some dirty little secret? I'm sick to death of being a secret. I don't want to be another girl you picked up at the hospital, have your way with and leave.” A single tear ran down Casey's cheek, which she quickly wiped away with her sleeve as she turned away from Bryce.
“I just.. I don’t want you to get in trouble for mixing your dating life and professional life.”
“Cut the bullshit, Bryce. If that was the case, you wouldn’t have just had sex with me IN the hospital. Stop with the lies or leave. I deserve to know whether you’re going to leave me out to dry. Tell me the real reason. Please.” Her eyes were pleading. If he was going to hurt her and leave, she wanted it to be done with.
"Because I'm fucking in love with you Casey! And I don't know how to fucking handle it,” Casey’s eyes widened as Bryce’s rubbed his forehead. “I've never felt this way with anyone before. But your residency is over in the next few months. You're gonna leave here. You're going to be a brilliant doctor somewhere. You've going to leave Edanbrook behind. You're going to leave me behind. I just couldn't handle watching you leave. So it was easier to act like I didn't care.”
"You don't get to make that choice, Bryce. You don't get to hurt me to protect yourself."
"I know. I didn't mean to. I just... I've never felt like this. I've never had someone like this.. I've never had these feelings for someone. I feel jealous when I see other guys talking to you when we go out, like even Ethan goddamn Ramsey looks at you like you're a novelty." Bryce threw himself onto the couch angrily, shoving his head into his hands. “I just... I’ve always been so sure of myself. But when it comes to someone like you, I just keep thinking that you’re everything someone could want. You could have your entire pick of the whole damn hospital.”
"Bryce. Do you not think I get insecure? You don't think I hate the way nurses talk about you in the staff area when I'm there? Talking about how much they want you? Or how some of them have been with you in the past? How girls look at you all the time? It's because I am in love with you. This is why it hurts so bad. It's why I can't be your secret anymore."
Bryce looked up, meeting Casey's eyes. "You're...in love with me?" He looked at her, his mouth dropping open as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.
"Are you fucking kidding me? I've been in love with you for months, Bryce. Ever since you came into the hospital bed and held me when I thought I was going to die. I knew it from then on. The only thing that comforted me in possible death was knowing I was going to spend my last moments with you."
"Case..." Bryce stood up and moved closer to Casey and to his disappointment, Casey took a step back, her eyes closed as she swallowed the lump in her throat.
"I can't Bryce.. I can't shake the feeling that you're just going to hurt me again. Ever since I left the garden rooftop, I can't help but think I'm just another girl you fuck and that’s it, even after everything you just said. You said it yourself, you've never been one to commit. I need you to leave.." Casey went to walk past Bryce, heading for the door to open it for Bryce to leave.
#choices#pixelberry#Bryce lahela#Bryce x mc#mc x Bryce#open heart#open heart: third year#Bryce lahela fanfic#Bryce lahela fanfiction#mc x Bryce lahela#Bryce lahela x mc
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Perfectionist
SUMMARY: You had been caught up with your art for so long that you forgot about your school duties...but fortunately, your crush and friend Izuku Midoriya comes over to lend you a hand.
TW: nothing tbh? cursing and a bit of suggestive content?
Genre: fluff, humor? just pining in general
Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x artist!gn!reader.
a/n-please read: i’ve noticed that my activity of likes and reblogs on my content has lowered recently. is there anything you guys would like me to write in particular? please let me know ^^ (i already published an aizawa oneshot and will be doing one for shigaraki later on.) as always, please leave a like, reblog, comment and/or follow me if you enjoyed! xx
If you could describe your art in one word, you'd choose the word perfectionist. It wasn't like you liked being a perfectionist, but that's just how you were.
While some artists worked for recognition, fame, and others simply enjoyed making art, your case was... a little bit different.
When you did art, you strived for excellence. Perfect. Not one mistake. A smudge of dirt? Unproportional objects? It looks terrible. Think you can do better? You have to make it perfect. That didn't mean you did art out of obligation. It was your favorite hobby, but your perfectionist tendencies with your art knew no limits.
Though, you really wished that the perfectionist tendencies you had with your art would translate into your daily routine. Because outside of your art, you were a fucking mess.
You weren't the tidiest person, and your parents had given you hell because of that in your childhood. While you were responsible and kept your word, there were other instances where things slipped from your mind and you felt like the biggest, useless idiot in the world.
Today was one of those days. After a tiring school day from U.A, you retreated into your dorms, determined to spend the rest of your free time into your art.
You had rolled out your mixed media notebook, opened your soft pastel package and opened your laptop with a compile of several reference images, and got to work.
Your artwork's inspiration was the one and only- Izuku Midoriya-, who happened to be your long term crush and close friend.
His green hair sparked so many ideas and inspiration in your mind, you had to control yourself and pay attention in class and not drift towards his messy hair. His wide and bright green eyes made your stomach twist like an acrobat, making you feel like so flustered that your face would heat up to no end.
You let out a soft laugh and shook your head, deciding to stop all your endless thoughts of Izuku. It was time to focus on your artwork. You were about two hours or three into your work, blending with your finger and smoothing outlines when your phone rang.
A shocked gasp left you when you noticed the caller ID. It was Tsuyu!
''Fuck!'' you cursed. You had forgotten that you were going to help Tsuyu out with a school project! Fuck, fuck, fuck!
''Oh my god Tsu, I'm so sorry-'' you began to apologize quickly, feeling shame and regret bubble in your stomach.
''It's okay, Y/N. Ribbit. Don't worry about it, Uraraka came over and she's helping me out. Though, you should start on that school project Aizawa-sensei gave you,''
Panic began to take over your body as your breathing became heavier and slower.
''Um, y-yeah. You're right. Th-thanks for reminding me, I'll see you tomorrow.'' You quickly ended the call and threw your phone on your bed. Muffling a scream, you began to pull at your hair as you walked in circles in your room.
''Oh my fucking god,'' you breathed. ''Why do I screw everything up?''
You bitterly stared at the incomplete artwork that sat on your desk, Izuku's bright smile staring up at you. You had been drawing Izuku in a sunflower field, but now it seemed that your project would be paused.
Your choice had been based on the thought that Izuku was like a sunflower. He was beautiful, warm, and bright, and he would always face the sun. Determined to reach light and happiness. And where there wasn't any sun, he would reach out to those who surrounded them. Izuku was an inspiration- he would always help those in need, no matter who they were or the consequences he would receive.
A strangled noise of sadness escaped you as you began to close and put away your art supplies. Once your desk was clear, you began to pull out your school materials. You glanced at the time and much to your dismay, it was 9 PM.
It was so late! And you still had to write down that essay that Aizawa had tasked you with- the history and categories of quirks.
''Oh god,'' the words left your lips as a weak whimper. ''How am I supposed to finish this and get some sleep?'' you sighed as you rubbed your temple. ''I guess I'll just pull an all-nighter.''
A defeated sigh left your lips as you began to write the essay, feeling your eyebags become deeper and more pronounced with each hour of sleep that you missed. It wasn't until three hours later that you heard a soft knock on your door. You jumped in your seat but made no noise as you approached your door.
''Who is it?'' you called out warily. Who in their right mind would visit your dorm at midnight?
''Oh, it's me, Izuku, Y/N!'' Izuku's cheerful and soft voice called out.
A bright smile took over your lips as you opened the door. ''Hey Izuku! What brings you to my dorm at midnight?'' you cock an eyebrow at him, smiling at his bashful reaction.
''U-Uh, I just wanted to help you out!'' he stammered. The tip of his ears burned red and you chuckled. ''I thought you might need some help with your essay...?'' he cocked his head to the right and smiled sheepishly.
Eyes widening, you nodded vigorously as you opened the door wider to let him.
''Of course!'' you exclaimed. ''Thank you so much! I was caught up with my shitty artwork, so I totally forgot about the essay,'' you huffed, shaking your head in disapproval.
Izuku offered you a small smile and opened his mouth to intervene, but he was too late since you had already sat down and looked at him expectantly.
''So, I have about a third of the essay done, but I'm not good in this area,'' you scratched the back of your neck sheepishly. ''Do you know about quirks and all that stuff?''
Know about quirks? Izuku nearly scoffed. He was an expert in quirks! His entire life had consisted of writing down notes, rambling like a madman, studying his favorite heroes, and their quirks. Quirks were such an interesting and diverse subject, how could he not know about them?
''Of course!'' he said with a bright smile. ''So we should start with the origin of quirks and that means...'' Izuku continued talking, but the way his eyes shone with passion and how his green curls bounced constantly had you distracted.
How could you focus on what he was saying when the mere sight of him left you speechless?
''-N? Y/N?'' Izuku's confused expression snapped you out of your trance. You straightened your posture as you blinked and nodded several times.
''Huh? Oh, sorry Izuku,'' you smiled awkwardly. ''I got distracted.''
He nodded and continued to explain and this time, you tried your best to listen to his words and not focus on his bright green eyes. They shone like the most beautiful emeralds-
Stop it! you scolded yourself. Focus.
Once Midoriya finished his explanation, you had a decent grip and idea of the subject and the two of you began to compose the essay. Hours flew by as the two of you chattered and wrote down parts and bits of the essay in your notebook.
''Okay!'' you exclaimed. ''I think we have everything covered...now I just have to glue it all together and make it cleaner...'' your voice trailed off. Staying up late drained the energy out of you, and you could feel your eyelids drooping.
''Y/N?'' Izuku cautiously reached out his hand and tapped you on the shoulder. ''Are you feeling okay?''
You coughed awkwardly as you nodded and began to write down the essay quickly, despite the lack of energy in your body. You refused to meet Izuku's gaze.
''Yeah!'' your voice was unnaturally squeaky. ''I'm just a bit tired, but I'll get this done quickly.'' you offered him a quick smile before returning your gaze to the paper.
Midoriya nodded and stayed at your side as you wrote down the essay, much to your dismay. Now that the two of you were quiet, you became painfully aware of how close Izuku was. Your arms brushed against each other and his warm breath hit the side of your neck. You slightly squirmed in your seat. His breath made you ticklish.
The last thing you remember from that night is writing the essay but the more you wrote, the tired you felt and before you realized, you had fallen asleep on Izuku's shoulder.
The boy frowned when he noticed you had stopped writing only to realize that you had fallen asleep against him. His face reddened and his heart sped up. You were so...so...close to him!
Your body was so warm. With a shaky breath, he inched forward and made sure to not wake you up. Izuku figured that you had worn yourself out today, so he decided that he would finish your essay. He spent another hour sitting next to you, trying his best to replicate your handwriting and carefully choose his words to finish the essay.
Once he was done, Midoriya slumped back as his body relaxed. He carefully maneuvered around you and picked you up. Once he had laid you on your bed, he quickly turned off the lights and ran out of your room. It took him a lot of courage and strength to carry you and now his face was beet red. Izuku sighed loudly as he speedwalk towards his dorm. Your perfume was all over him and now he couldn't think of anything but you!
━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━
When your phone began to ring with your alarm, the first thing that you noticed is that you were in...your bed?
You groaned as you tried to collect your memories from yesterday. Midoriya was the first thing that came to your mind and a smile tugged at your lips.
The essay! You jumped out of bed and stared at the piece of paper on your desk, only to find it complete? Your eyes widened as you stared at the details of the handwriting. Midoriya must've finished it! you thought as you shoved it inside your backpack.
''Oh man...'' you mumbled as you raced around in your room, preparing to head out for class. ''I have to thank Midoriya for this! He's so thoughtful...''
You raced out of your dorm and picked up your speed when you noticed that nearly everyone had already left for class.
Once you reached the U. A building and spotted a familiar green-haired boy, you raced towards him and wrapped him in a tight hug.
''Hey, Izuku! Sorry for dashing in like this, but thank you so, so much for this! I owe you one!'' you continued to blabber and once you finished, you pressed a soft and tender kiss on Izuku's freckled cheek.
You pulled away with a wide smile. Izuku's jaw had dropped open and he could only stare in you in shock as his entire face bloomed bright red.
''Oh! I'm sorry! Did I make you uncomfortable?'' you mumbled. You wrung your hands together and lowered your gaze to the ground. You felt your once ecstatic heart drop to your stomach.
''No! No, no that's not it Y/N!'' Izuku's voice was squeakier than usual and you raised your head with a frown. ''Um, I'm very glad,'' he smiled softly.
''Could you um...'' he scratched his head and lowered his eyes to the ground.
''Could you make it up to me with a-a da-da...'' he stammered several times. You grinned and tilted your head to the side.
''Do you mean a date?'' your grin grew wider when you saw his bashful expression.
''Yeah...'' he mumbled.
You giggled happily and pressed a kiss on his cheek. Izuku's eyes widened and you could sense the waves of heat from his face.
''I'll be glad to go on a date with you, Izuku.''
i hope you guys enjoyed!! have a good day!
#mha izuku#izuku x reader#izuku midoria x reader#my hero academia#midoriya x y/n#mha midoriya#midoriya x you#midoriya imagine#my writing#my hero academy fanfiction#my hero imagines#my hero fanfic#izuku midoriya#izuku midoriya x reader#izuku midoriya x you#gn!reader#gender neutral reader#artist!reader#reader insert#mha x y/n#mha x you#mha x reader#veles' writing
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Germs [Reid x Reader]
this gif isn’t mine
Summary: Reader is sure the resident BAU genius doesn’t like her, but she’s not sure why. But even if he did like her, he’s a germaphobe, so he wouldn’t be comfortable with the things she wants to do to him...would he?
Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader
Word Count: 5.6k
Rating: Mature
Category: Fluff and Smut
Content Warning: Brief mentions of torture and violence, usually criminal minds stuff, nothing explicit. Light choking, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, language (maybe?)
A/n: I have come out of fan fiction writing retirement for this one. Let me know what y’all think!
masterlist
y/n - your name
y/l/n - your last name
italicized text is Reader’s sassy inner thoughts
---
I’m not sure if I believe in hell, but if there is a hell, I’m sure it feels exactly like Louisiana in July. Every time I walked outside I felt like I was walking into soup. Gross. I couldn’t help but feel guilty over my sigh of relief when I walked back into the local precinct the team was currently working out of.
Young women are dying, and I’m worried about a little bit of heat.
But, fuck, it was hot.
Speaking of heat, I thought as I threw open the door to the conference room only to run smack into the hottest thing I’d ever encountered.
“Shit,” I exclaimed before I thought better of it. “I’m so sorry.” I ran my eyes up, up, up, all the way up his body until I met his eyes; those beautiful honey brown eyes that threatened to have me acting like an idiot if I stared into them for too long.
Dr. Spencer Reid’s cheeks were tinged pink, his posture stiff, his fingers clutching the file he was carrying for dear life. “Don’t worry about it, Y/n,” he sounded uncomfortable, which made my stomach drop. “My fault.” With that, he quickly maneuvered around me and headed off to complete whatever genius task he had to complete.
My eyes followed him until he was out of sight before I mentally shook myself. ‘C’mon, this is pointless,’ I thought. ‘He doesn’t even like you.’ Which I really thought was true, the good doctor went out of his way to avoid me whenever possible. ‘Plus, he’s a germaphobe.’ This thought was confirmed true. He didn’t shake people’s hands, the only people I’d seen him touch during my time at the BAU were members of the team that he’d known for years, and some of those even seemed reluctant.
Admittedly, I didn’t know a lot about germaphobia; since I couldn’t ask the only genius I knew, I did the next logical thing. I googled it. Every person I’d read about seemed to experience germaphobia differently. Some people could have sex, but others were grossed out by the very idea. Knowing my luck, Spencer Reid and his beautiful hands, and his soulful eyes, and his cheekbones that could cut glass was in the repulsed by sex category. Which is fine! Right, it is fine to not be interested in sex; the only problem was I was very interested in every part of him.
Maybe he thinks I’m gross. Maybe I stink? Maybe he’s just repulsed by my very presence. Regardless, I couldn’t see Spencer Reid ever shoving me against a wall and fucking me senseless.
I sighed, making my way over to the conference table, pulling out a chair before I flopped into it. I could feel the exhaustion settling into my bones. We had been in Louisiana for almost a week now and we were still no closer to finding our unsub. He was a white man, he worked in a lower-paying job, and he hated women.
Obviously, that didn’t narrow it down much.
The unsub was targeting women in clubs and bars, following them outside before he bashed them on the back of the head. After that, he threw the girls over his shoulder and took them to his car; he moved them to a secondary location before he tortured them. The first two victims had survived. They were traumatized, but they were fighters; they both said the same things, ‘he kept my eyes covered the entire time,’ “I never saw his face,’ ‘I did whatever he told me to do.’
We thought the killing of the third victim had been an accident, but that accident had excited our guy enough that he changed his ritual; the killing was crucial now. We had 4 bodies, 2 live victims that couldn’t tell us anything, and no leads.
Sighing, I leaned forward, bringing the heels of my hands to my eyes. I hated feeling helpless. The answer to who this fucker was is in this evidence somewhere and I will find it. If it’s the last thing I do.
The doors swung open again, pulling me from my thoughts. Hotch lead the parade of people, followed by Morgan, JJ, and Dr. Reid. Our unit chef looked gravely serious…not that that necessarily meant anything, in the 6 months I’d been with the behavioral analysis unit I hadn’t seen him have any other expression.
Morgan pulled out his phone, hitting what I suspected was speed dial number 1. “Hey baby girl,” he said, without his usual swagger; even he was tired. “You’re on speaker. You’ve got me, Hotch, JJ, Reid, and Y/l/n.”
“And I have the always wonderful Emily Prentiss, and the dashing David Rossi on the line, effectively putting my favorite people together again, as they should be,” Garcia quipped. I don’t think she meant to include me in her list of ‘favorite people,’ but it made me smile anyway. “Okay, crime fighters, what’s the play?”
“We’re still no closer to finding the unsub,” Hotch began. “He’s highly organized, methodical, and paranoid; but he hasn’t killed in 3 days, this is a break from his escalation pattern. He’s going to strike soon.” Hotch leaned over resting his palms on the shiny fake wood of the conference table. “Our best chance is to send an agent out there as bait.” There was a general murmur of agreement before he continued on. “Garcia, we need you to find all of the night clubs, bars, and whatever else you can think of in the updated comfort zone.”
The sound of keys clicking made its way through the speaker. “Assuming we’re excluding the places he’s already hit, that leaves us with 3 possibilities.”
“So far he hasn’t struck a place twice,” Prentiss chimed in. “Do we think he’s going to hold to that pattern?”
Reid moved over to the board where the map of the county was displayed. “I think so. This guy is too careful to risk going to a place where he’s been before. The chance of him being recognized is too great, especially when everyone is on high alert.” He gestured to the area he had circled on the map. “His pattern seems to be focusing in on this center point right here,” he said, placing a pin in the map. “This area means something. Garcia, what is the closest club or bar to the intersection of Washington Avenue and Harrison Street?”
“That would beeeeee…The Blue Fox.”
“That’s where he’ll be,” Dr. Reid said confidently, his eyes moving to Hotch’s face.
The older man nodded. “It’s our best lead so far, we have to run with it.”
“It’s Friday night,” Rossi pointed out. “We’ll have to act soon.”
Hotch nodded, seeming to be lost in thought. “We need to send agents in there tonight. We know the victims were all on dates or flirting with a man right before their abduction. He targets women that are happy with their companions then waits til he can separate them.”
“Who are you planning on sending in, Hotch?’ JJ questioned.
“Y/l/n is the youngest, she fits the build of the previous victims the best.” His heavy gaze rested on me. “What do you think?”
Like it was even a choice. “I’m in.”
Hotch nodded, accepting my answer. “Good. You’ll partner with Reid.”
“What?!” I squawked, much to my embarrassment. I cleared my throat before I continued. “But, Reid and I…I just thought Morgan would be the obvious choice.” Fuck, I’m just digging a bigger hole.
Morgan gave me an easy smile. “You’re just saying that because you wanna see my moves, little mama.”
Hotch cleared his throat, bringing our attention back. “Morgan is too intimidating; the unsub might not move in if he feels too threatened. You’ll go with Reid.” When he was met with silence he continued on, “alright, let’s get to work.”
-
And that is how I wound up in a club in Louisiana on a Friday night, in a tight black dress, with Spencer Reid beside me. After he walked into the club holding my hand. He doesn’t hold hands, I cringed internally at the thought. He must feel so uncomfortable.
He waved the bartender over, ordering a drink for me and a water for himself before turning to me. “I thought a drink would loosen you up a bit. You look nervous.”
I am nervous. “Right. Thanks.” I drummed my fingers on the bar, my gaze sweeping around the club for anyone who seemed out of place and especially creepy. Most lone men at clubs and bars were creepy, but we need especially creepy.
“Is that because you don’t think I can have your back?”
My head snapped back around. “What?”
Spencer paused to accept the drinks from the bartender, sliding him the money. “In the conference room. You seemed upset that Morgan wasn’t going to be your partner,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Is that because you think I wouldn’t have your back?”
Fuck. I blushed to the roots of my hair. “No, Spencer! God no! It’s not that, I know you’d have my back.” I took a sip of my drink before I said anything else. “It’s just that…you don’t seem to like me very much, and I know you have a thing about germs, and I thought maybe that’s why you didn’t like me.” I was babbling; I was absolutely babbling. “I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, that’s all. Morgan has never seemed uncomfortable around me, so…” I trailed off lamely.
The corners of his lips quirked up in amusement. “So, you didn’t want to partner with me on this because you didn’t want me to be uncomfortable?”
I nodded, fidgeting with the straw in my drink.
Spencer moved closer to me, his right hand coming to rest on the small of my back. He seemed as calm as he could be, meanwhile I suddenly had trouble breathing.
It’s for the case. He has to do this for the case. Calm down.
"What do my issues with germs have to do with this?" he wondered, leaning closer to me. I could feel his breath on my neck; my skin broke out in goosebumps.
Double fuck. “Well, we’re supposed to be…together. And you think I’m gross. What if you have to kiss me?” TRIPLE FUCK. “Not that we’d have to kiss,” I tried to backpedal. “But we might, you never know. And I just didn’t…I don’t want you to dislike me more than you do.”
The teasing smile slipped from his face, the fingers on my lower back flexing slightly. He regarded me with a tilt of his head. "You're serious?" At my shaky nod, he continued. "Y/n, I don't think you're gross."
“You don’t?” I squeaked.
He lifted his hand from my back then, sliding it up to my shoulder, his free hand moving from the bar to rest on my hip. Spencer brushed my hair back before he leaned forward. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I felt his lips touch the tender skin of my neck. My eyes fluttered shut, unable to suppress a gasp at the contact. Spencer Reid’s beautiful lips slid down to the place where my neck and shoulder met, then I felt his teeth nip the skin before he placed another kiss there. He worked his way back up towards my ear, the hand on my hip moving slightly so he was almost grabbing my ass. “I don’t think you’re gross,” he breathed, causing me to shudder. I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Germs don’t bother me in that way, especially around people I know. I wouldn’t have a problem kissing you, baby.”
I was going to need new panties after this. Spencer Reid, awkward, sweet, Dr. Spencer Reid just called me Baby.
“…Oh.” Really, y/n. Oh; you went with oh?
The good doctor pulled back, his face close enough to mine that I could see that he had freckles under his eyes and that those beautiful eyes got more golden towards the center. "Oh."
-
Michael Watkins was the name of our unsub. He was a short white man with a receding hairline and a bad temper. His last relationship had ended 3 months before the first attack; Spencer was right to pick this bar. Shortly after he tried to make my pussy combust with his neck kisses, Reid suggested I walk to the bathroom, assuring me he’d be watching if anyone followed.
Watkins’ hand was in my hair, dragging me outside before I made it to the ladies’ room. I felt a jolt of fear as I struggled to escape, strands of hair being ripped from my head. I shouldn’t have worried, because no sooner had the outside door opened than I heard the velvety voice of Derek Morgan. “FBI! Put your hands where we can see them.”
He attempted to run. Why would anyone try to run from Derek Morgan?
After the medics confirmed I was okay, I was sent back to the hotel while the rest of the team went with the local police to book Watkins and try to get a full confession.
“Good work,” Hotch said, his hand clapping down on my shoulder.
The highest praise I’ll ever need.
I hopped into the shower right when I got back to my room, not wanting Watkins’ touch on me for a moment longer.
Spencer’s touch, however,…That was a touch I wouldn’t mind having on me. But he’d barely looked at me once he made it outside. I knew he was being affectionate in there because of the case, we were playing a role. I knew that. I still couldn’t stop the twinge of hurt I felt.
But he doesn’t think I’m gross. That had to count for something.
I had just got done blow drying my hair enough so that it wouldn’t look too crazy when I woke up when there was a knock on my door. Figuring it was Emily, I didn't consider the fact that I was in my pajamas, and my face was scrubbed free of makeup.
It wasn’t Emily. Spencer Reid stood on the other side of my door, his eyes running down my body before he met my bewildered stare again. “You look comfy,” he commented with that damn little smile on his lips again.
“Oh. Yeah. I took a shower.” Way to go, y/n, you’re really killing it tonight.
“I see that,” he said, his cheeks going a little bit pink. “Can I come in? I thought we should talk.” Was he nervous? Why would he be nervous?
I ushered him in, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the bottom edge of my bed; his body angled towards the headboard. I briefly debated about where to sit before I joined him. Don’t make it weird, y/n.
He cleared his throat before he began. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight. I just wanted to make sure we got the guy.”
Right. “Oh, it’s okay, Spencer. I get it. I wasn’t uncomfortable.” I picked at the frayed edge of my sleep shorts, my eyes dropping so he didn’t see anything on my face that betrayed how I was feeling; you can’t be too careful around profilers.
His hand reached out to cover my own fidgeting hands, one of his hands covering both of mine. His hands were so big. His fingers were so long, the veins in his hands were so pronounced. I bet those fingers would feel really – FOCUS.
“I’m also sorry you thought I didn’t like you.” His thumb had started to move slowly over the back of my hand. “I do like you. I like you a lot, actually. I just…” I brought my gaze back up to meet his eyes. “I just get nervous sometimes.”
“You didn’t seem nervous in the club.”
“No,” he chuckled. “I wasn’t nervous then because it was my job. I wasn’t worried about misreading a signal…doing the wrong thing…I’m not the best with social cues.” I had noticed that about him before. “But I am a really good profiler.” And he’s humble too, apparently.
“I know that you couldn’t fake your reaction to me in the club. Your breathing became quicker, I felt your pulse jump under my lips when they were on your neck. I saw how blown your pupils got." He shifted closer to me then, bringing his other hand up to push my hair behind my shoulder like he did earlier in the night. "Just like they are now."
He leaned closer to me, his voice was lower, and it made my stomach flutter. "You're clenching your thighs together, Y/n. Your shirt may be baggy, but I can see how hard your nipples are too." His tongue ran out to wet his lips. "If I'm wrong, just tell me now. If I've misread this, I will leave right now, and we can pretend this never happened." Spencer brought both his hands up to cradle my face; despite how wet my panties were, how tight my nipples are, how badly I wanted him to touch me, this gesture made me feel special. He was holding me like he actually cared about me like I was precious. "But, if I'm not wrong, and you want this too, Y/n, tell me. Tell me you want this too and I won't stop touching you until you scream my name."
I let out a soft whimper then. Like it’s a choice. “I want this,” I leaned into his touch. “Please, Spencer.”
His thumb brushed over my cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. “Please, what, baby?”
“Kiss me.”
No sooner had the words left my mouth than his lips were on mine. His lips were softer than I imagined, they were firm and almost…questioning. When I nipped at his bottom lip, something seemed to break free inside of him. His lips slanted over mine with a hunger I had never felt. His tongue ran over my bottom lip before I opened for him. Spencer’s tongue moved into my mouth while his hands moved; one hand moved back to grip my hair at the base of my skull, tugging firmly, the other moved down to my neck, not applying any pressure, just resting it there in a gesture that felt possessive.
The need for oxygen broke us apart, his lips moving across my cheek to my jaw, then down to my neck. “How could you think I didn’t like you?” he mumbled into my skin. “You have no idea what you do to me. None.”
I threw my head back when he sucked on my pulse point, a moan ripping from my throat. “W-what…what do I do?”
Pulling back from me, he gripped the bottom of my shirt, looking at me for consent before he pulled it over my head. His eyes were firmly on my chest, his lips parted, his breathing heavy. He pushed me down slowly on the bed; I was on my back and he was hovering over me. I felt his mouth place hot, wet, kisses from my collarbone down towards my breasts. His right hand landed on my breast, his thumb brushing back and forth over my nipple while his lips moved closer and closer to my left. I tangled my hands in his hair, urging him forward.
“You want to know what you do to me?” he raised his head slightly, making sure my eyes were on him when he flicked his tongue over my nipple, causing me to gasp. “What do you do to me in your little skirts, with your little smiles, and your little laughs?” He gave my nipple a sharp pinch. “You’re all I fucking think about, y/n.” With a growl, he finally took my nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. He switched to the other breast while he adjusted himself over me, bringing his pelvis down to rest at the seam of my body between my thighs. I shifted restlessly under him, trying to grind my pussy against him. He was so fucking hard.
With a groan, he lifted his head and started kissing his way towards the middle of my chest, moving down to the curve of my stomach. “Do you know how many times I came back to my hotel room after spending all day with you and was so hard I had to cum before I could think of anything else?” he peppered kisses down my body as he spoke.
My eyes shot open at this confession that he seemed to think was no big deal. “What?” I couldn’t believe this. “You…you touched yourself and thought of…”
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and panties, taking my raised hips as an invitation to remove both from my body. "You. I thought of you." He threw my clothes on the floor, pulling my legs open. His eyes moved over all of me, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed hard. “I thought about kissing you. About making you squirm for me.” He ran his fingers up and down my thighs, his mouth running slowly over my inner thighs. Spencer’s hands hooked around my upper thighs, moving me to where he wanted me. “But, most of all, I thought about this pretty pussy.” He placed a kiss on my clit, chuckling at the wanton moan that came from me and how my fingers tangled in his soft brown curls.
“I thought about all the different ways I could make this pretty pussy cum all over me.” With that, he ran his tongue up my slit before flicking it over my clit.
Dr. Spencer Reid was good at everything, so of course, he was good at this too. His mouth moved over me, watching my reaction to see what I liked best. His tongue moved in circles around my clit before slipping down to my opening. His tongue plunged inside me, fucking me, while his thumb came over to rub my clit.
“Spence- fuck- Spencer, please.” My hips tried to shift restlessly, but his arms were iron bars holding me still. He slowly moved his left forearm to rest across my hips, bringing his right hand down to my throbbing pussy. He pulled his mouth away from me, much to my dismay. He pushed one finger, then another into me. My head thrashed wildly, and my thighs started to shake. “Spencer!”
He just smirked and curled his fingers, hitting the spot inside me that made everything in my body pulse. “What, baby?”
My breaths were coming in gasps, my voice was a needy whimper. “Make me cum, Spencer. Please, please make me cum.”
He needed no other encouragement. His fingers continued their steady thrust in and out of me while his mouth covered my clit again. He alternated between flicking my clit with his tongue, then circling it before pulling it into his mouth, sucking lightly.
“Spencer.” I felt my orgasm rising. “Spencer don’t- don’t stop. I’m gonna cum, please make me cum.”
He kept his pace steady, sucking on my clit, moaning at my words. His eyes had been closed, but at that moment they opened and met mine. Then I felt his teeth ghost over my clit, I saw the want in his eyes. That was my undoing. My back arched, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. I heard myself say his name over and over again. Spencer pushed his fingers inside me, massaging me through the most powerful orgasm I had ever had. With one final kiss on my oversensitive clit, he withdrew his fingers, putting them into his mouth to suck my orgasm off of them.
He kissed back up my body, and I tried to respond, but I was still so shattered. I had never felt anything so powerful before. He cupped my face in one hand and kissed me slowly. I returned the kiss, moving my hands to the buttons of his shirt.
Spencer broke the kiss, pulling back to look at me again. “Hang on, baby.” His hand came up to still my own. “We can take a second. It’s okay. Just breathe.”
This beautiful man smiled at me then. I felt my heart flutter when he leaned down to pepper soft kisses along my jaw, his thumb coming up to wipe a tear that fell from the corner of my eye that I hadn’t even noticed.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that. He shifted to lay beside me, whispering reassurances to me while I came back down. This was just one of the ways that Spencer was so different from every other man. I didn't feel rushed, or pressured. I could feel how hard he still was, I could feel the tension in his body, but he simply kissed me while he cupped my jaw.
He made me feel…cherished.
I moved my hands to tangle in his hair again, deepening our kiss. He didn’t move my hands away when I started to work on the buttons of his shirt. The fire that I thought had been calmed by my orgasm had come roaring back. Spencer moved his hands to his belt while I finished with his shirt. His shirt came off, tossed in the same direction as my clothes. I pulled his pants and boxers down his legs, watching his cock spring free.
Everything about him was painfully beautiful. His angular cheekbones, the jaw that looked like it was carved from granite, even the toned muscles of his body. He had a small trail of hair that went down from his belly button to his groin. His cock laid against his stomach, the head glistening with precum.
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, kneeling beside him, running my eyes over his body.
His soft hand came to grab mine, pulling it to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand, smiling softly at me.
I moved to straddle him, lower on his thighs. I took him in my hand, moving up and down, twisting my wrist as I neared the tip, swiping my thumb over his head.
“Baby,” he groaned. “Y/n, as much as I want you to do…whatever the fuck you want with me, I’m so close. I feel like I’m going to explode.” I bit into my bottom lip, unable to totally stop the smile spreading over my face. “Please, I need to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock.” He moved his hands to my hips, urging my body forward.
I raised up on my knees, taking him in my hand again, lining him up with my entrance. The tendons in his neck were strained, his fingers gripped my hips so hard I knew I was going to have bruises tomorrow. As I slowly started to sink down on his cock, Spencer let out the sexiest groan I had ever heard. His eyes were fixed where our bodies were joined, watching his dick slid deeper inside of me.
“Come on, baby,” he whispered. “You’re doing so good. Just a little bit more.”
He was so long, he wasn't overly thick, but just thick enough to cause a pleasurable stretching when he breached me that was almost painful. I gasped out a sound that might have been his name when he bottomed out inside me. I slowly circled my hips, adjusting to him. Spencer’s nails dug into my hips as he forced himself to stay still.
“Please move, y/n. Please. You’re so fucking tight.” He groaned as my walls fluttered around him. “Do you like it when I talk to you? Does that make your pretty pussy wetter?” He smirked at my whimper as I tightened around him.
I began at a slower pace, trying to tease him. Spencer quickly lost patience with that; he thrust his hips upwards, meeting my movements, his hands pushing me down onto him. I leaned forward, bracing on hand on his shoulder, the other on the bed. He pounded into me while I tried to match his pace. Spencer’s hand moved from my hip up to wrap around my throat. I nodded, forcing my eyes to stay open as he moved inside me.
His fingers squeezed slightly, pulling my face closer to his. Our lips met in a sloppy kiss. My thighs burned from matching his movements. “You feel so fucking good, y/n.” His grip on my neck tightened ever so slightly, which only heightened my arousal. “I want to feel you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”
He flipped us over quickly, never pulling completely out of me. Spencer moved to push my legs further apart, the change in angle allowing him to fill me deeper than I thought possible. His hair was sticking to his brow, his cheeks were flushed, his breathing erratic. He was the most fucking beautiful thing I had ever seen.
One hand held my leg, the other went down to my pussy, his thumb moving over my clit at a rapid pace. “Tell me what you need, Pretty Girl. Tell me how to make this pretty pussy cum all over me.”
I whined at his words. “Spencer, I-“ my voice broke off. I was so fucking close. "I need you." He seemed to understand my broken plea. He brought his body down, his chest flush against mine. He rocked into me at such a fast and hard pace. His hand still in between us rubbing circles around my clit.
I felt his lips ghost over my ear. “I want to fucking hear you, y/n.” His speed increased, his thrust getting choppier. He was close. “I want this whole fucking town to hear what you sound like when I make you cum. When you cream all over my dick, I want you to scream my name.” With that, he moved his mouth down my neck. He bit the same tender area he had kissed in the club, where my neck met my shoulder.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck yes, Spencer!" I felt myself begin to splinter apart. “Please make me cum, fuck please.” My babbling finally broke as my orgasm tore through me. I couldn’t hear his deep groan when I came, my scream was too loud. I felt the vibration against my neck. It was only as I started to float down that I realized my nails were dug into his back. With a few last thrust and my name on his lips, I felt Spencer pulse, cumming inside me.
We lay there for a few minutes, just breathing before he rolled off of me. I felt overwhelmed, so I was relieved when he tugged me over to him. He wrapped his arm around me when I laid my head on his chest. I felt his lips on my forehead. “It’s very important for women to urinate after sexual intercourse to avoid UTIs, but you have another minute or so before that becomes more urgent.”
I couldn’t control my laugh at his comment. "Thanks, Doc." I kissed his chest. "Only you could make me cum so hard I almost blackout, then go back to being…you." I slowly untangled myself from him, going to the bathroom to handle business. When I returned, I found Spencer where I left him, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, one hand resting behind his head, the other over his heart. He looked so lost in that moment.
“Spencer?” I asked, crawling on to the bed. “What’s wrong?”
He didn’t pretend that something wasn’t bothering him. “When you said that I just go back to being me…Do you not like that?”
My heart broke a tiny bit at the question. “Spencer, no! I love that! I love your little facts and statistics!” How did he not know that? “The best part of my day is listening to you talk. Just being with you is wonderful.” I cupped his face, bringing his gaze to mine. “Sure, I like what we just did; but I liked you before that. I want both.”
Fuck. “Assuming you want me,” I rambled quickly. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, I know that it doesn’t always-“
He cut me off by pressing his lips to mine in the sweetest kiss I had ever felt. It was filled with hope and promise and…Spencer.
“It means everything to me, Y/n.”
-
I didn’t see the rest of the team until the next morning when we all boarded the jet; I was so ready to go home. I personally didn’t think anything appeared that different. Spencer sat beside me on the couch, but that wasn’t weird…right? We were just co-workers, sitting beside each other super casually. Had we spent most of last night and a little bit of this morning screwing each other’s brains out? Certainly. But you couldn’t see that…right?
Morgan’s chuckle is what confirmed I was so wrong. “Hey, y/l/n,” he called, smiling so hard it looked like his face would split from his amusement. “You missed a spot.” He pointed towards his own neck.
There was a beat of silence before Hotch snorted. SSA Aaron Hotchner, the man who never found anything funny was laughing at me.
I felt myself turn tomato red, angling my body towards Spencer’s, burying my head against his shoulder, away from the rest of the team.
“I bet you’re glad pretty boy was your partner now, huh?”
I may have wanted to melt into the floor in embarrassment, but it was sort of worth it to see the blush on Spencer’s cheeks.
--
#spencer reid#dr spencer reid#Dr Reid#Spencer reid fic#Spencer reid smut#dr spencer reid smut#dr spencer reid fics#criminal minds#criminal minds fan fic#criminal minds smut#Spencer reid x you#Spencer reid x reader#Spencer reid x y/n
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Let me start off with saying, these two fanfics are my favorite of all time. They are incredibly well written, exciting, and overall amazing. I am writing this review because 1) I’m bored and 2) This fic deserves a proper review. And I admire Forestwater. That too. I will be reviewing both parts, The Adventures of Tigger and Eyeore and Tigger and Eyeore: Camp Campbell and beyond. I am also splitting this into two posts, so yeah. Also, Trigger warnings for Swearing, Smut Review, and All Caps. The other post will have trigger warnings on it as well. So, enjoy!
So, the first chapter. What happens? Gwen arrives, reading, and David scares her on accident. She thinks he’s a camper, which I started bursting out laughing. He does act and looks like a camper, which makes sense. Anyways, our amazing lead, Gwen, realizes he’s another counselor, and is shocked. She reflects on not being able to Campbell, and they begin to get to know each other. Honestly, this is such a nice scene. Don’t ask me why, it’s so nice. Like, just the way they interact is so soothing and nice. It’s a good first chapter!
Second chapter! This was super cool to see what could have been. I really love this scene with Gwen and David, as it has them interacting about what they would do, what they are free and just… talk. It’s nice. Also, expanding on Gwen’s love of trash T.V is amazing. Thanks for that, Forest. Amazing Gwen introducing the amazing Bob Ross, and it’s perfect. Whatever, amazing chapter.
Third chapter. The 4 S’s? Amazing. If y’all don’t know what that stand for here's the paragraph. It’s amazing, read it:
“Oh, no. She really should've checked with David to make sure whatever he had planned didn't include the 4 S's: Stab, Smash, Shatter, or Seriously Fuck Shit Up. Glass bottles fell under at least 3 of those categories.”
Also, David said the tucked away line was gold. I think I physically squealed at that. Honestly, not too much happens other than the fire thing, but you know, good chapter!
Fourth chapter. Wow, I’m getting through this faster than I thought I would. They are in forest?!?! At night?!?!? Alone?!??! … Nice. Capture the flag! Good idea!... Do I not have any more criticism for this chapter? It’s just amazing and well written? Also Gwen read Twilight? Oh who am I kidding, of course she did. WHEEZE…
Chapter five. Amazing. Perfect. Fucking perfect. David being terrified of scary stories, the bastard trio being the bastard trio, and a behind the scenes look at what would have happened during the credits. The Gwen and David leaving for Spooky Island after dusk and being scarred for life is amazing.
Chapter 6 fuckers. Really good chapter! We gotta love David falling in love with Gwen. Love it. Also, jokes hit home. Good job! Also, um, I love Gwen’s self doubt issues? Not like, love it, I’m not glorifying it in any way, but I…. to do that. Let’s be frank, I think I suck ass, so I relate to Gwen. Me too, girl, me too. Also, the magazine thing was so well done? I don’t know how to explain it, it was just a good scene of David looking over Gwen’s magazine’s and wondering if she thinks she needs it. And Gwen’s nicknames for the kids? Very nice. I know I’m not paying attention to the big plot points and shit, but the details and small things make me very happy! I like the small things, and I enjoy it. This is my review, ok? I get to pick what it’s about.
Already on Chapter 7! And OH MY GOD, BON BON MY BELOVED. Amazing! Lovely! I’m crying and I'm so happy! This might actually be my favorite chapter? Like, I love this one. And David plays Wheel of Fortune? Hello, that’s amazing. This is just fantastic? I don’t know specifically why, but Gwen and Bon Bon have the best damn dynamic. Gwen’s taste in men is trash, ok? Except David. That’s it. But anyways, Gwen discussing her exes with Bon Bon was a perfect scene. I kinda love Bon Bon acting as a more advice figure? Forest, if you are listening, please, if she ever comes back, more of that. Gwen patching David up is nice and sweet, and I just overall love Bon Bon??????
Chapter 8 is sad David. I just love David talks about how Gwen sees herself and tries to help?? Like, I don’t know if you guys read “Taking Charge” By Azeran on Ao3, but that’s a very good example of David recognizing Gwen’s unhealthy behavior and trying to help. Once again, Friend Forest (Can I call you my friend? Are we just mutuals? Idk?), I kinda love the idea of this fic, and would love to see a chapter about that, or maybe even…. A smut chapter????? Haha, just kidding, Unless? Wow, that was super long just ranting. Sorry, Sorry. Time to talk about the actual story. We love Gwen’s want to kiss David’s forehead. Amazing. They are practically dating. Alright, hurrying this up, I’m just going to make the next paragraph about the next few chapters.
More Gwenvid stuff, and it’s amazing. Gwen has more self doubt, which I relate too, and David comforts her! Perfection. We also love Gwen slowly loving her job, it just feels so nice. Also, David being kind of unintentionally racist is really funny from Gwen’s point of view. Like, it wasn’t funny in the episode, but it’s so good in this fic???? Ok, two chapters down,sorta. Gwen being a mom to Harrison and Nerris, which is amazing, and David walking in at the worst time made me laugh. Good job once again! Rest of the chapter is them chatting, and I am a sucker for it. Then, the special scene. Order of the Sparrow, Max and David fighting, but in this point, it’s in GWEN’S point of view. I love this. Too much. I just-
Aanonfoofinfliwehfuehfifuheifuhriuheriufhew
Sorry, getting off topic (sorta). This chapter shows Max’s softer side and how Gwen cares for David. It’s just… incredible. And then…Chapter 12. OH MY GODS. What the hell. I was so excited, and I was right. When I read this the first time, I was not disappointed. Can I just… say how much I love this? It’s such a good fic, and the finale was as promised. Gwen expresses her self doubt, they chat, and then…
GWENVID.
Ok, I’ll make a whole separate post about why I like this version of Gwen so much, but Gwen’s so… real. I sympathize for her, feel for her, I just know what she’s going through. I just feel sorry for all she’s gone through. Then, they... ehm…. Do the horizontal tango. The dirty. The morning delight. Smut. Boom. Not going to lie, well written. You did good, Forest, you did good. Thanks you for.. That. It was good quality.
So Tl:DR, This fic is fucking amazing and possibly the best one in the fandom. Good job, @forestwater87 Yay!
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i’m so perpetually frustrated with the audience members who criticise 1917 for having “no backstory or development for the characters”
like, yes, it’s subtle. because they’re friends and friends don’t talk to each other like “oh, yes, remember all these details of my life i’m conveniently and clearly reiterating for an omniscient third party?” but fuck dude, if you pay attention and know basic facts about war or do your goddam research, there is SO MUCH DETAIL TO THEIR BACKSTORIES
like, just from one TINY DETAIL, you get so much: schofield’s wounded stripe on the left sleeve of his uniform. to get a wounded stripe in world war 1, you had to be officially listed in dispatches as being a CASUALTY, not just having been in a field hospital, meaning the wound was BAD. but, wait, what kind of wound could be so well-hidden and subtle? it could be a gunshot wound or trenchfoot, but there were also two categories that could earn a soldier the wounded stripe: gas, or shellshock. it’s therefore entirely possible that he was suffering from trauma rather than a physical wound before he met blake. given that 60,000 rounds of field artillery and 45,000 rounds of heavy artillery were fired in the first DAY of fighting, and one german described the experience of the shelling as “the earth shook, the sky seemed like a boiling cauldron [...] the ability to think logically, and the feeling of gravity, both seemed to have been removed”, shellshock is a very plausible diagnosis.
so, we know he fought in the somme, and we know which battle he fought, meaning he had been at the front for at the very LEAST 7 months. SEVEN MONTHS. that is a LONG time to be in the trenches, and it is a STAGGERING amount of time to have withstood the horror and still come out of it soft, gentle, and compassionate - think on THAT when y’all say schofield is a flat character. think about what kind of a person could kill and see people killed and live in the constant, crushing, claustrophobic terror and boredom and nothing of the trenches for most likely LONGER than that and stay kind and quiet. NEED i say any the fuck more, NEXT
just from that, we then know that blake did NOT fight in the somme, meaning he arrived at the front some time after november 1916. and, judging by his excited and fearful reaction to the front line trench before a predicted push, there’s the distinct possibility he had never seen a battle, meaning his arrival can be placed after the 18th of december 1916 and that he was still deeply innocent.
if he arrived in december and the film begins on the 6th of april, that ALSO means that they had known each other at the most for just over 3 months, very possibly less, and that they had formed a very close bond in that time.
which brings me to my next point: where are their other friends? all the other soldiers are shown to have close-knit groups, so where are theirs? why is it only them? why are they even friends in the first place? why is blake, a new recruit who had only just arrived, already the same rank as a veteran who had been there for very possibly up to or more than a year? why is a veteran hanging around with a chattery, bushy-tailed, never-seen-battle replacement? why isn’t he hanging out with his own cohort of soldiers who has been there the same amount of time as him and could much more easily relate to his trauma and exhaustion? WHY is a middle-class-sounding guy even hanging around with a lower-class farmboy in the first place?
the most plausible answer? all of schofield’s friends he went through training with are dead - probably in the somme - and he’s purposefully isolated himself to grieve with his survivor’s guilt. he was most likely wounded, lonely, and agonisingly depressed for months until a cheerful replacement arrived at the front and befriended him. and THAT’S where schofield’s fanatic devotion to him comes from, and THAT’S what “he saved my life” means, more than in the literal sense - he was lost, and broken, and numb, and blake saved him.
furthermore, because boy have i got more, blake’s backstory, in case someone out there has seen this film and still wants to hit me with that fucking “we know nothing about these characters”: we know he has an older brother, we know he has a female dog called myrtle, we know they live with their mum in a farm in the countryside with a cherry orchard, and we know his father isn’t in the picture and that he most likely hasn’t been for a long, long time, judging by blake’s lack of bitterness and daddy issues, his closeness with his mother, and the fact he isn’t in blake’s family photo. we know, from interviews, that he enlisted as soon as he came of age because his brother was an officer and he idolised him, and we know he was barely this side of 18.
another thing? the story about wilko. blake knows stories about men schofield has almost certainly known for far longer - but he didn’t interact and wasn’t told, and blake did, and he was more familiar with all of them and had stories to tell that schofield would have known if he’d been sitting in the same circle when the gossip was told. how’s THAT for subtle characterisation, chumps.
and if you just think about it, there’s so much depth to blake’s overly trusting nature - because he’s still naive, he’s still innocent, he’s still young. schofield tucks the things most special or necessary away in his inside pocket, where’s it most safe, because he’s learned lessons the hard way; blake puts them carelessly in his trouser pockets where they could fall out. schofield keeps his rifle with him even as he’s going to fetch water for the german pilot; blake discards his rifle and leaves himself vulnerable. if you just LOOK, it’s all there!
FURTHERMORE, we know schofield is in his early 20s and older than blake. we know he has a much more refined accent, and we know from interviews that he’s from cookham, berkshire. we know he has two daughters and a wife (or a sister and nieces, it’s open to interpretation, go to town), we know he suffers from shellshock, we know he most likely couldn’t face going home on his last leave and instead stayed in france and gave his medal away to a french captain, we know the subject of home is deeply triggering for him, we know he refuses to talk about his daughters, we know that his family haunts him as much as he longs for it, and we know that he didn’t receive any mail from his wife - interesting, considering blake received a letter just telling him his dog was having puppies.
and don’t even get me started on the “lack of character development”. watch me scream here about that.
also, some more backstory because now i’m on a fucking roll: lance corporals were typically the second-in-commands or heads of sections, of which there were 4 within each platoon, each comprising 12 soldiers, it's likely blake and schofield were in command of different sections in the same platoon. where does that come into play? well, scho seemed to slip very easily into a position of authority when the convoy got stuck in the mud, didn’t he? MOVING ON.
more? i have more. another little tidbit: lieutenant leslie asks schofield and blake if they are his relief, and then asks when the fuck they’re getting there when they say they aren’t. he and his men are exhausted and it was said by another soldier that “they had been blown to hell a few nights ago” - they’ve clearly been at the front a long time, which, again, is interesting, considering front line soldiers were typically rotated back into reserve after 8 days. clearly, it’s been a lot longer than that, meaning order and routine have completely broken down and a new type of despair, hopelessness, and mess has taken root. there, more backstory again.
“oh, it’s just a shitty saving private ryan” “oh, it’s definitely no all quiet on the western front”. FIRST OF ALL, it fucking IS all quiet on the western front, have you literally even read it? baumer goes to such lengths to hardly ever use the word enemy because he doesn’t view the soldiers in the other trenches as bad, just as other innocents swept up in a war that no one should be fighting. he spends a whole chapter sobbing over the only man he’s ever killed in close combat. it’s a hundred times slower than 1917 and it hasn’t even GOT a plot. what the FUCK are you talking about?
oh, and it’s just saving private ryan? show me WHERE. a bunch of soldiers have to go into enemy territory to rescue a soldier because all his brothers have been killed in action and his family wants him home. two soldiers are sent into enemy territory with a letter to stop an attack. i am LITERALLY struggling to think of any more similarities than that and even THOSE are fucking reaching.
also, it’s literally a different war. who are you and why are you saying these things to me i am BEGGING you to please use your fucking head for just a few seconds and actually THINK
“it was so convenient that the river just happened to take him to the devons” ??? “the river. it goes there” did you just entirely miss everything lauri told him? the river quite literally flows exactly past where he is supposed to go, that’s the entire POINT, that’s WHY he jumped into it, because he KNEW it would take him there, oh my GOD
“if the convoy was going exactly where he needed to go, why didn’t erinmore tell him to meet it?” i know it might be a shocking concept, but even a general may not have known exactly the route a convoy of trucks was going to take, especially in the confused wasteland the germans had left behind in their retreat. in fact, he might not have known about the convoy at all if they were coming from a different sector of the front - WHICH, guess what, THEY WERE. captain smith mentioned they crossed no man’s land just outside bapaume, which was much further south, in the old somme battlefields. scho and blake’s trench was somewhere near boyelles, 11km north of bapaume.
“it’s unbelievable that scho would just sit quietly and relax in the convoy truck, and then get out to give orders and take command, after what he’d just been through - and, plus, he would have gotten to écoust quicker if he’d just walked” there’s this thing called trauma. shock. dissociating. compartmentalisation. just shutting down in the face of too much grief when you don’t have the time nor capacity to let yourself feel it, acknowledge it, register it. in the script, scho is said to “almost disappear into the noise of the men.” and, honestly, the emotional illusion of regaining a scrap of control over a situation he was utterly out of control of would have been enough to prompt him to get out and give orders - but as it is that wasn’t the only thing driving him: he was desperate, and an NCO, and he needed to go. AND “he would have gotten there quicker if he’d walked”?? ???????? first of all, he didn’t know that? second of all, scho said it would take them nine hours AT THE MOST to get there and, given the fact they weren’t attacking until dawn and it was most likely morning when he and blake set off, he wasn’t in a TERRIBLE rush. THIRD of all, it was a direct order from a captain. FOURTH OF ALL, do you really think he felt like walking all that way when a truck was RIGHT THERE?
“there are too many coincidences” films are built on coincidences. they are conveniently put with a character who will end up being their soulmate at the end of it all. they conveniently uncover information that would take people in real life months to find. coincidences drive stories - one of the greatest tools of screenwriting? “don’t write what would happen, write what could happen.” what could happen is that scho finds a teenage girl and an orphaned baby sheltering in a ruined town - in a war. what could happen is that a convoy of trucks heading north towards the battle of arras logically uses the road running alongside a farmhouse. what could happen is that scho jumps into a river that he knows runs east. i just don’t understand what you’re trying to say
“oooohh for soldiers on a life-or-death mission to save one of their brothers, they sure do take their time to sight-see” they’ve seen absolutely fucking nothing but the walls of a trench and the reserve camp for months. also, it’s pretty much just common sense to clear out a building before you turn your back on it and keep walking. also, they had 8 hours, scho ended up getting there in under two hours, and blake is allowed to feel more than one emotion at a time and to be excited about exploring new places, ESPECIALLY when it’s almost certain that neither he nor schofield had ever even been out of england. war or not, the french countryside was still beautiful and blake is allowed to appreciate that. next question
“how was there a milk pail full of milk if there was no one around to milk the cow” german soldiers were stationed in the farmhouse before they got the order to move out. “they’re not long gone.” they left an hour before hand, someone probably milked the cow before they knew they were leaving. you don’t have to read the script to have a functioning braincell
“unbelievable that they weren’t killed by the tripwire explosion” it detonated in the tunnels, not in the bunker. they wanted to collapse the escape routes first and foremost. please, i am begging you, use your head
“why did they pull an enemy out of the plane” basic human decency. i cannot believe i have to explain this concept. soldiers in the first world war were especially conscious of the humanity of the men in the other trench. you say blake had no character and then get mad when he’s shown to be so kind and selfless that he’ll burn himself rescuing a german. i don’t know what you want from me, get out of my kitchen
“schofield was an idiot for stopping to interact with lauri and the baby” he was concussed. he knew there was somewhere he had to be but he didn’t remember what or where until he heard the church bells. also, for people who criticise the “lack of character development and backstory”, ya hate to see character building moments. it clearly wasn’t the first time he’s recited that poem to a baby. make the connection dipshits
“the germans shot like fucking stormtroopers, how did they not hit him?” point one: one of them was blind drunk. when muller is ranting while scho is strangling baumer, he says that maybe they should head back and that maybe they won’t realise they’ve been missing. the implication? either they’ve gone AWOL, or they’re stragglers from the retreat back to the new line. either way, at least one, and very possibly all of them are off their fucking faces, considering the one by the burning church tripped over his own goddamn feet chasing scho. point two: not in a thousand years would they have expected a lone english soldier to just pop up out of nowhere in ecoust. it was so unexpected that you really can’t blame them for being flustered and confused.
“how the FUCK did the letter survive the river in one piece?” he put it in his tin. there’s literally an entire 30 seconds of the convoy scene just devoted to showing scho tucking it in there. i don’t understand how i have to say this
“it’s too gruesome” aside from the hand in the corpse and the dead horses, where? where? also, it’s the first world war. i can’t believe what i’m hearing. who are you people
“it’s not exciting enough, it’s slow, it’s dull” IT’S SUPPOSED TO SHOW THE CONSEQUENCES AND AFTERMATH OF WAR INSTED OF THE SHALLOW EXCITEMENT OF IT YOU DUNCE
in conclusion, suck my ASS anyone who says they didn’t have backstory or development or that there are ~raging plot holes~. FUCK
anyone who doesn’t want the actual soft and only good person in the world William Schofield to live a happy life in peace just isn’t valid and that’s all i’ll ever say on the matter you fucking degenerate scum rotten tomato reviewers
#in which i just fucking lose my mind and go fucking apeshit#1917#will schofield#william schofield#1917 movie#mine#also my mum pointed out that they both have scenes where they try to haul the other up and say 'we have to go we have to stand up'#and the other says 'just let me stand / just let me lie here'#fuck#there's SO MUCH THAT I'M STILL ONLY JUST SEEING AFTER 5 WATCHES
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Supernatural - a retrospective
This is super self-indulgent, and I have so much else I’ve promised-- I owe a long-fic rec post, and ao3 comments, wip work, and that’s just my fandom stuff I’m behind on. *sigh*
But it’s late on a Saturday and now I’ve finished Supernatural, I want to share what I think are my top few eps, and a few other comments. I promise some of this will be different from the “greatest hits” you probably usually see, and I’ll try to make it worth your time. *wry smile*
Look, we have to have categories like: “Most Likely to Live in My Head Rent-Free for the Rest of my Life” and “Most Likely to Inspire Unnecessary Fanfiction” that are different from “Favorites,” because that’s just the cursed energy this show has. ;-)
My top five
#5 - 13.01 - “Lost and Found”
Written by: Andrew Dabb | Directed by: Phil Sgriccia
In fandom, this is most often referred to as the start of the “Grieving Widower” arc, tongue-in-cheek. Also has Alexander Calvert (Jack) walking around completely in the nude for the first third of the ep. (Neither of these are why this is in my top 5, but he has a good story about wardrobe for his ‘first day.’)
I didn’t expect much out of this episode the first time I watched it, but I’ve gone over this ‘section’ of the show maybe 3-4 times in my Netflix catch-up, and I watch this one in full every time. From Jack being...not at all what anyone expected and an unsteady vindication, to the stunning cinematography (there’s a post that compares shots to Brokeback Mountain, but I think the shots here might be better), to the sheriff who takes the time to remind her deputy that “...there’s no such thing as ‘weird.’ Everyone’s normal in their own way,” to the slow reveal of exactly how hard the events of the previous night (12x23 - All Along the Watchtower) are hitting Dean and Sam and in different ways...(how long the episode takes to reveal to you how Dean fucked up his hand, and what he was saying when he did. Augh!) The Winchesters are trying to rally, but they have been taking hits for a long time, and the cracks are showing.
#4 - 15.06 - “Golden Time”
Written by: Meredith Glynn | Directed by: John F. Showalter
Supernatural has a terrible track record with representation in all stripes. It is infamously consistent in killing off anyone minority, female, or non-White. One of the interesting things about the chaotic meta-narrative of season 15 is you can see the lack of fucks some of the writer’s room had to give about not even being subtle about tearing down that type of ‘White-male-hero-journey” now that they were in a literal “what will they do, fire me?” situation.
I’m a Cas fan, and this episode, which gives him an actual, ‘case-of-the-week’ hunter’s narrative where he gets to save the day on his own, successfully, was wonderful. I love that for him! But more than that, for me, this episode is emotional to me for other reasons-- the way Dean and Cas circle around each other on their angry phone call (with the body language! They are broadcasting so LOUD and neither can see because they’re on the phone!), Sam’s story here, where he’s inheriting things from Rowena that allow him in turn to save Eileen, to Cas’ speech and quick anger at the lake when you reflect on his entire journey of self-realization from a soldier of blind faith to an agent of free will... “You selfish little men in your positions of authority...” I just... *clears throat, grabs tissue*
#3 - 6.20 - “The Man Who Would Be King”
Written & Directed by: Ben Edlund
Speaking of Cas’ journey... I know some folks don’t like the angst and drama of the ‘Heaven and Hell’ plots of Supernatural, but I am here for it. Oh, did we need another reason to include this episode? This has some of the most metal quotes I have heard from any TV show. Ever.
I mean, look at this:
“If I knew then what I know now, I would have said: Freedom is a length of rope. God wants you to hang yourself with it.”
“Explaining freedom to angels is a bit like explaining poetry to fish.”
The delivery of: “It's not too late. Damn it, Cas! We can fix this!” “Dean, it’s not broken!” is one of those Supernatural bits that will live in my head until the end of time. All of Edlund’s episodes are among my favorites, but this (along with “5.04 - The End”) was on another level.
#2 - 5.16 - “Dark Side of the Moon”
Written by: Andrew Dabb & Daniel Loflin | Directed by: Jeff Wollnough
I think of this episode every time I hear Bob Dylan sing “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.” This is kinda a giant montage episode, but the connecting concepts are so...satisfying.
“Heaven is your favorite memories.” “ It’s called the axis mundi. It’s a path that runs through heaven. Different people see it as different things. For you, it’s two-lane asphalt.” “This is your idea of heaven? Wow, this was one of the worst nights of my life.” “I don’t think I realized how long you’ve been cleaning up Dad’s messes.” “It’s awesome to finally have an application—a practical application—for string theory.” “Everyone leaves you, Dean. You noticed?” “Why is God talking to me? Gardner-to-gardener, and between us, I think he gets lonely.” “You son of a bitch, I believed in... ” Whoosh.
#1 - 4.01 - “Lazarus Rising”
Written by: Eric Kripke | Directed by: Kim Manners
So...this is the episode where Castiel, angel of thee Lord, shows up. And that’s primarily why it earns the no. 1 spot, because 80% of my enjoyment of Supernatural from this point on was Cas-adjacent. Plus this entire episode just hits. ALL OF IT. Dean’s homecoming. Ruby, my darling. Bobby’s entire vibe. Pamela Barnes, easily one of the most interesting women Supernatural ever introduced. Cas being so hot to say “Hi” to Dean he forgets he wounds people.
But beyond that-- the way the show writes their ‘oh, by the way, angels’ narrative! If you haven’t seen this episode, would you believe me if I told you that THIS EPISODE, the episode where Supernatural said “canonically, Judeo-Christian Heaven is real, btw” involves no churches but does involve a séance, a soulmark handprint brand, and a himbo angel that “gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition”...but they were all “no homo, guys” for years?
Truly no one was out here doing it like Supernatural even back in 2008.
Others--
15.18 - “Despair”
“Most Likely to Live Rent-Free in My Head for the Rest of my Life”
Written by: Robert Berens | Directed by: Richard Speight, Jr.
You know why this episode is here. It broke reality. I could be wrong-- but I’d put good money on this episode being the subject of academic theses in the future. That doesn’t automatically make for interesting story, but...
Has there ever been a case, in a mainstream US TV show where a major lead character (Cas) came out as queer so late in the game in a narratively-important way? I’m not aware of it, but I might just be behind on my television.
This episode has great writing, and (blessedly) amazing direction and blocking anyway. Check out the above gif - that is some next level foreshadowing going on in the cinematography, and this isn’t even the most remarked upon shot in this episode. (Seriously, I had to search for 40 minutes for this gif, please respect my game, lol.) Everyone who was involved in 15x18 is giddy talking about their investment, from the costume designer to the actors to the director to the writer...
...And then a bunch of them steadfastly have avoided posting much Supernatural-related since. So that’s...loud. There is a bunch of subtext in this episode that is screamingly loud; there is a bunch of text in this episode that makes several things clear fandom has been chattering over for years and years. The meta-commentary around this episode continues, months later. There are over 700 fics on AO3 with this episode tag.
I have more to say about the themes of ‘free will’ and ‘love’ and ‘identity’ tied to this episode, but seriously-- you’ve probably read 17 versions of it on Tumblr already, so.
This is the last time we see Cas, and the last time Supernatural can claim anything close to narrative consistency. For that alone, it’d earn free head-space.
Runners-up: “4.20 - The Rapture”; “5.04 - The End”; “7.21 - Reading is Fundamental”; “8.21 - The Great Escapist”; “9.06 - Heaven Can’t Wait”; “12.19 - The Future”; “14.08 - Byzantium”
6.17 - “My Heart Will Go On”/8.07 - “A Little Slice of Kevin”
“Most Likely to Inspire Unnecessary Fanfiction”
Written by: Eric Charmelo & Nicole Snyder (6.17); Brad Buckner & Eugenie Ross-Leming | Directed by: Phil Sgriccia (6.17); Charlie Carner (8.07)
Usually the show kills off it’s “one-episode” female characters, but do you know one time it didn’t? When the Moirai (the Fates - specifically Atropos, the shearer of the Threads of Fate) showed up in canon in 6.17. She was posited to have “two older sisters that were bigger than her- in every sense of the word,” ...and Castiel had to back down when she challenged him to a cosmic game of chicken over the Winchester’s lives.
Then they never returned to that idea again.
“A Little Slice of Kevin” is on here for the opposite reason -- an amazing idea that was really underwritten in the episode it showed up in. Dean Winchester has been dragging himself across the fabric of universes; the literal Word of God is in play in a warehouse in Middle America; Cas is back from Purgatory, but what does that mean, micro and macro? As a person on the street, what would it mean, or feel like, to learn you were a Prophet of the Lord, uncalled? That what you are, everything you are, is a cosmic contingency?
Maybe Fate has an opinion on all these shenanigans?
Perhaps all that doesn’t make sense, but it certainly made an impression on ~2012 me. To this day, it remains the WIP I can open up and fool myself with the ‘twist.’ I wish I remembered where I was going with it so I could finish it.
Runners Up: “2.20 - What Is and What Should Never Be”; “5.04 - The End”; “6.15 - The French Mistake”; 12.12 - “Stuck in the Middle (with you)”; “13.05 - Advanced Thanatology” “14.03 - The Scar”; “14.10 - Nihilism”; “15.15 - Gimme Shelter” ... and “15.20 - Carry On” (obviously)
Fifteen seasons. There were plenty of other episodes I loved that didn’t make these limited lists. But overall -- thank you, Supernatural, for the run. Even if I’m upset at the ending, I can appreciate the game. If you watch the show, what were your favorite episodes?
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Mama Mina
Category: Friendship Fluff
Fandom: My Hero Academia
Characters: Denki Kaminari, Mina Ashido
Hey, everyone! Here’s another story for @bnhabookclub‘s weekly SFW prompt, “You can’t ignore me forever!” Enjoy! :)
Denki’s lips were drawn up in a cheerless pout as he lay sideways on his bed, repeatedly bouncing a ball against his opposite wall. With languid, practiced motions that were more muscle memory than actual attentive efforts, he flicked his wrist to lob the ball at the same spot on the wall he had been for the last hour. He watched with dull lidded eyes as the squishy rubber toy sailed across the width of the bedroom, struck the smooth painted surface, dove down at a forty-five-degree angle to bounce once on the polished wooden floor strewn with dirty socks and worn tee-shirts, then returned to his waiting hand. Shwip. Thunk. Thwock. Slap. The sounds echoed, just as depressing and lifeless as the ambiance.
“Stupid,” he muttered aloud as he hurled the ball across the room once more. “Absolutely useless. What’re you even here for, Denki?” The ball slammed into the wall as he subconsciously applied more force to the throw; in turn, its arc changed dramatically and crashed into his face instead of his hand. The ball ricocheted off his nose to collide with his desk lamp, causing it to spin wildly around and knock into the plastic cup holding his writing utensils. He cursed as he rolled onto his back with both his hands tenderly holding his bruised face, trying to ignore the added insult of his pencils and pens sliding over the desk and clattering to the floor. In the background of that and his groans, he could hear the rubber ball bouncing and then rolling over the wood to come to rest somewhere under his bed. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
Denki usually tried to stay positive. He really did. That was his thing, after all, being the plucky optimist. He had drained his supply of sanguinity, however; the cistern was as dry as a desert, not a drop of confidence to be found. How could he be self-assured, after making an absolute fool of himself in the third round of the Sports Festival? It had taken literal seconds for Ibara Shiozaki to obliterate him in their one-on-one battle. Denki had never suffered such a grievous insult in his life. Of course, it wasn’t her fault. It was all his stupid fault.
He pushed the balls of his palms into his eyes, trying to force the tears that were brimming there from leaking out. He failed miserably at that as well. The salty liquid rolled down his flushing cheeks to bead on his chin, then drip down and absorb into the collar of his tee-shirt.
“Ungh… Goddammit,” he sniffed and rolled onto his belly to shove his face into his pillow. In the back of his mind, he thought suffocating himself was preferable to the uncomfortable twisting in his gut and the stinging in his eyes. Unfortunately, the fabric of his pillow was much too breathable. The world is against me. Without removing his face from the cushiony construct, he slipped halfway off the bed to grope blindly around for the rubber ball. Continuously chunking it relieved some of his nervous energy, at least.
He stopped when someone knocked loudly and insistently on his bedroom door.
“Denki!” Mina’s high-pitched voice was still loud even bleeding through the wood. She rattled the doorknob experimentally to find it locked. “Denki, lemme in! Let’s talk.” What the hell is she doing here?! “Me and Eiji and Hanta are all here to hang out. Your mom called us!” Of course she did… he thought sourly. “Hanta’s setting his PlayStation up downstairs! Come on! Let’s go play!”
He removed his face from the plush pillow to shout, “Dun wanna!” He scowled when the pink-skinned girl jiggled the metal knob again, more persistently this time.
“Denki, come on, you’ve been moping in here all day. It doesn’t do any good to sulk like this! Come onnnn! Let’s talk it out!” Denki snorted derisively and threw himself on his side, facing the wall and pouting childishly. If he were in a healthy state of mind, he might appreciate her kind gesture; however, incensed as he was, he could only be petulantly exasperated by her insistence. She continued to bleat invitational prattle before his doorway, and he decided not to waste the energy on responding. If I ignore her, she’ll go away. “Denki. Denki. Denki.” She began relentlessly chanting his name and punctuating each shout with a rattle of the knob. Grumbling unflattering words under his breath, he wrapped the pillow around his ears. The breathable fabric didn’t muffle nearly as much sound as he wished. “Denki. Denki. Denki. Denki. Denki. Denki.” He curled up so that his knees touched his chest.
Go away, he snarled in his mind. I don’t want to talk about how stupid I am. Leave me alone!
“Denki, you can’t ignore me forever! DenkiDenkiDenkiDenkiDenkiDen-”
“Fuck! Okay, I’m coming, just cut it out! Sheesh,” he yelled and threw himself off the bed. Somehow the angry motion was coordinated, and he landed on the flats of his bare feet. His stomps were purposeful and thundering as he stalked open to the door to unlock it and throw it open. “What?” he hissed at the smiling, bubbly girl, chest heaving and cheeks flushed with misdirected self-loathing.
“Denki, are you sad?”
“No! I’m not sad! Now, will you leave me alone?!” he huffed and went to shut the door in her face. In his heart of hearts, he knew that wasn’t right, but Goddammit, the last thing he wanted to do was talk about it. Sometimes a man just needed to brood in peace. Her pink hand flew up to slam against the wood, demonstrating surprising strength as it stopped it in its tracks.
“I think you’re lying.”
“So what if I am?!” Instantaneously, his cheeks flushed a rose color. Dammit, that isn’t what I wanted to say! Her face deadly serious and those black-and-gold eyes boring into the quivering depths of his soul, Mina leaned into the doorway. Denki gulped and subconsciously leaned back in the face of such unwavering resolve.
“I’m coming in,” she asserted simply. Denki deflated with a whine and trudged away from the door to throw himself face-down back on the bed. His groan of acknowledgment was muffled by that annoyingly breathable fabric of his pillow. He heard the soft scrapes of her socks over his floor. They were followed by the gentle click of the door behind her. Denki hugged his pillow as he moped over how rapidly the situation spiraled out of control; it was just par for the course for him, he supposed. Silly, stupid Denki with no spine-
“Denki. You know that none of us think any less of you for what happened at the Sports Festival, right?” He visibly cringed as she heartlessly jabbed at the core of his depression. Snorting, he rolled on his side such that his back was to her. Morosely, he curled his thin body around the pillow.
“Yeah, right. You guys probably thought it was hilarious. She wiped the floor with me.” His bottom lip wobbled pitifully just talking about it. It had been so humiliating. Finally, he thought he had his chance to show that he wasn’t just the dumb guy that fried his brain and mumbled “Yayyyyy,” but he had blown it in the most mortifying way. Kyoka was probably sniggering into her hand while she gossiped about him to Momo-
“Well, Hanta-”
“He was up against Todoroki, and he even got a good shot in,” he countered matter-of-factly. Angrily, he squeezed the plush body of the pillow but had not the raw strength to tear it to little shreds of fabric and cotton like he wanted to. “Stop lyin’ to me. You can say it. I’m useless and stu-”
“You are not stupid!” He jumped violently as her voice cracked like a whip in the relatively quiet bedroom. He yelped like a wounded dog when she wrenched him onto his back by the shoulder. Like it was a shield, he kept the pillow hugged to his body and stared owlishly up at the fuming girl. Her pink lips pressed into a thin line, and her fingers clenched into her hips. “So what if you’re not Bakugo or Todoroki or even Midoriya? You still earned your way into this hero course!” she scolded him. He just vehemently nodded along. Frankly, he was a little terrified she would whap him upside his head if he continued with the self-pity. Her face softened slightly, and she bent over him to ruffle his blonde-and-black hair affectionately. “You have your own merits, and believe it or not, we all know them. You’re loyal and care a lot about your friends.” She smiled brightly down at him as he blushed shyly. “Sure, it didn’t work out this time, but you’ve still got so much time to prove what you’re made of. Stop saying you’re stupid or useless, because you’re not. None of us think that.”
“Really?” he asked her with big, round eyes, and she nodded firmly.
“Pinky-swear!” she grinned and held up her pinky finger emphatically. “Not even Kyoka,” she added with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows, which made him gulp and flush further. Still hugging the pillow but not as tightly, he sat up from the bed and rubbed the back of his neck. He had to admit, even though she had just basically reprimanded him like a stern mother, he felt loads better. He smiled warmly when she grabbed his hand and looped her pinky with his.
“Thanks, Mina.”
“No problem!” He chuckled, and she stepped away when he slung his legs around to hop of the bed. She stood on her tip-toes to muss up his already wild hair again. “Now get yourself dressed and come get some breakfast. Your mom said you haven’t eaten anything.”
“Mina, it’s like… two in the afternoon.”
“Brunch, then! Regardless, food! You need sustenance!” she insisted and jabbed him in his belly with her index fingers a few times. He squirmed at the tickling prods and skittered away from her to his closet.
“Yes, Mom!” he snorted, finally dropping the pillow to begin rifling through the closet for a suitable tee shirt. Mina hummed contentedly and strolled to the door, kicking aside a few of his discarded socks and underwear towards his dirty clothes hamper.
“Yup, that’s me. Mama Mina! If you’re not downstairs in five minutes, I’m coming back up to drag you by the ear,” she warned as she stepped out of the door.
“I’m coming! Promise!” he laughed, and she flashed him a teasing wink before shutting the door behind her. Amused, he stared at the wooden entryway for a few seconds, just smiling admiringly. “Mama Mina,” he huffed under his breath and shook his head before wrenching his shirt off and tossing it across the room into the hamper. The smile never fell from his face the entire time he was getting ready.
It just felt really nice to know he had someone looking after him.
“All right! Time to kick some ass, Denki Kaminari!” he told himself with a devilish smile. He cracked his knuckles and his neck, then did a couple pre-game stretches. He then all but bolted out of his bedroom and down the stairs. His friends greeted him with a chorus of “hello’s.” He snatched up a bag of Doritos from the kitchen counter and vaulted over the back of the couch, snatching up a controller and sticking out his tongue confidently.
“’Sup, guys? Ready to looooose?”
“As if!” Hanta cried and shoved him in the side of the head. “You’re the one who’s going down!”
“How do I play this game, Mina?” Eijirou frowned at the flickering screen.
“Just shoot the zombies, Eiji.”
“Shoot the zombies,” the redhead repeated unsurely under his breath and squinted at the television. Denki shoved a handful of nacho chips in his mouth and rolled onto his belly, legs still slung over the back of the couch, before holding the bag out to Mina. She took it graciously and patted him on the top of his head, making him smile widely.
I have really, really good friends.
Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!
Tag List: @deliathedork @sadistiks @simplybakugou
#bnhabookclub#weekly prompt event#kaminari denki#denki kaminari#ashido mina#mina ashido#my hero academia#mha#my hero#boku no hero#boku no hero academia#bnha#mha fanfic#mha fanfiction#bnha fanfic#bnha fanfiction
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Silky Smooth | Bucky x Steve x Reader (Fluff, mild Angst)
Category: Fluff, mild Angst
(Suggested) Age: 15+
Trigger Warnings: Intended (playful) pain
Ship: Bucky x Steve x Reader
Summary: Bucky Loses A Bet Resulting In Him Having His Legs Waxed
Request: “All of you making a bet over something (most likely stupid) and Bucky losses said bet. The consequence for losing the bet is the one who lost gets their legs waxed. Now Bucky was all cock sure when he lost, claiming that the pain of waxing won’t be bad. But little did he know what he got himself into. So, when you and Steve are warming the strips up between your hands Bucky gets nervous. But you won’t stop till his legs are smooth. And with that you place the first strip on and start. He howls.”
Contains Spoilers for: N/A
Word Count: 1,920
—
“A sports day?” Wanda asks, eyebrows quirked.
“Yeah. I think it’ll be a great team building exercise!” Tony grins, watching the variation of responses from the team.
“I personally think it’ll be quite fun.” Thor thinks aloud.
“Second that! I wanna prove I can kick Tony’s ass, let alone these two super soldiers.” (Y/N) adds, mocking the term super.
“Put, alright, snowflake, I can kick your ass at any kind of sport.” The billionaire responds, Steve and Bucky chuckling.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Stark.” She laughs.
“Ooh, this is gonna be juicy.” Nat rubs her hands together, mocking anticipation as she glares down Clint who returns the stare.
“So, are there teams or are we on our own?” Sam asks, also intrigued at the idea.
“On our own for sure.” Tony finalises.
There’s a moment of groaning and laughing before Iron Man begins reading out the different events he’s planned.
Sparring
Swimming
1500m Sprint
Shooting
Laser Dodging
Wall Climbing
De-coding
Long Jump
Boxing
Obstacle Course
“The hell is laser dodging?” Bruce asks, raising a brow.
“Dodge the lasers.” Sam shrugs, Bruce giving him a bitch face.
“No shit, Bird Boy, but what does it entail?”
“One of the studios will have laser beams flying across it, you have to get to the other side without touching any of them.” Tony explains.
“That’s Nat’s dream.” Clint chuckles.
“Damn straight, I’m gonna kick all your ass’ at that.”
“Except (Y/N)’s.” Bucky laughs, the woman shrugging.
“True.”
“So, what’s the prize?” Wanda asks. “There’s got to be some incentive to get me to partake in a sports day against you crazy lot, so what’s the prize?”
“Ooh, how about free rein of the music at Tony’s parties for the next year?” (Y/N) suggests, Tony instantly throwing a cushion at her from the other sofa he’s sat on.
“Not a chance in hell, (L/N)!”
The woman laughs as she curls further into Steve’s side, her legs resting over Bucky’s as she sits on the sofa between the pair.
“The winner gets a trip to Hawaii, on me, with a plus one.” Tony offers.
“I want a plus two if I win.” (Y/N) quickly responds, wiggling her brows as she gestures to her two partners.
“Fine.” He groans.
“And the loser?” Sam asks.
“The loser has to clean the whole tower every day for a week.” Thor laughs.
“That’s mean! You can’t do that!” Clint whines.
“You planning on losing, Barton?” Nat asks, grinning ear to ear.
“In your dreams, Romanoff.”
“How about loser has to have ice-cold water thrown on them?” Wanda suggests.
“Nah, over too quickly and we’re used to worse.” Bruce shakes his head.
“Loser has to have their legs waxed.” (Y/N) grins the most evil of smiles at everyone in the room.
“What won’t hurt you girls like it will us men.” Sam frowns.
“Good thing none of us girls will be losing then, huh, Bird Boy?” She teases, his evil eyes turning to the two super soldiers he calls his best friends as they laugh at her words.
“Best friend or not, pal, girl’s got a point.” Steve chuckles, fingers playing through the woman’s hair as she migrates too laying on his lap.
“You have an hour to get ready. We’ll meet here. Go.” Tony announces, and everyone heads off to get changed.
///
“Damn girl!” Tony whistles across the room.
“Back off, Stark.” Steve responds with a joking tone as the billionaire evidently checks out the super soldiers’ girlfriend who’s in her tight yoga pants and sports bra.
“Not my fault your girl is dressed like she wants-“
“Alright! Alright!” Sam interrupts this time.
“If I’m gonna kick your ass, Stark, I’m going to pick an outfit that is suitable and looks damn good.” (Y/N) states, Nat wolf-whistling at her words.
“Good lass.”
“So, anyway,” Tony groans. “You’re all going to do individual tasks. I have a rota, this is the rotation and where you’ll all start.”
Sparring - Steve
Swimming - Nat
1500m Sprint - (Y/N)
Shooting - Bucky
Laser Dodging - Sam
Wall Climbing - Thor
De-coding - Wanda
Long Jump - Bruce
Boxing - Tony
Obstacle Course - Clint
“So after I’ve done the obstacle course I go to sparring?” Clint questions.
“Yup.” Tony nods.
“Why the hell do I have to start on the fifteen-hundred sprint?!” (Y/N) whines.
“Because I know how much you love running, sugar lips.” The man mocks her, knowing full well that cardio is her least favourite part of the job.
“Fuck you.”
“There’ll be rules in each of the rooms that tell you what you need to do, and you have fifteen minutes at each station. Friday will announce when it’s time to switch. You have five minutes between each activity to get to the next one. Get it? Got it? Good.” He explains, everyone nodding.
“This is the most organised you’ve ever been.” Pepper comments, walking through the room to grab some files. Her comment receives a few laughs from people.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Ready, team?”
“Sir. Yes, sir.” (Y/N) salutes, receiving a playful nudge from Bucky.
“Pack it in.” He laughs.
And with that, everyone heads to their starting stations.
Steve goes to the gym to spar with Maria, Nat heads down to the swimming pool, (Y/N) heads out to the field along with Bruce and Clint, Bucky heads to the shooting range, Sam to the studio on the tenth floor, Thor outside - frowning when he realises the task is to scale the whole of Stark Tower, Wanda heading to the computer lab, and Tony heading to the gym on twelfth.
Just over three hours later - including (Y/N) bumping into both Steve and Bucky in the elevators and getting a kiss, or two, or three - the team are done, catching their breath in the living room, drinking water like it’s about to be taken off of them forever.
“That was a workout and a half.” Sam breathes, more or less gasping for air.
“Was good though.” Tony grins, also breathing hard and heavy.
“It was exhausting, and I’m a queen at cardio.” Nat groans.
“It’s like having a bunch of children.” Thor laughs, Clint giving him a death glare.
Once they’ve all caught their breath, gone to shower and gotten changed, they reconvene in the living room where Pepper is sat on the coffee table, a grin on her face that shows her excitement to announce the results.
“So, I’ll read out ninth place to second place, leaving the winner and loser to be confirmed.” She states, everyone nodding.
“In ninth place is Clint, eight place is Bruce, seventh place is Wanda, sixth place is Sam, fifth place is (Y/N)-“
“HA! Told you, Bird Boy!” (Y/N) yelps in excitement.
“Yeah, yeah!” The man chuckles.
“Fourth place is Tony, third place is Steve, and second place is Thor.” Pepper finishes.
“Leaving Bucky and Nat…” Clint hums, the woman in question looking quite nervous.
“That’s a difficult one. I’d expect none of them to be in last place.” Wanda comments.
“In first place is…”
The suspense in the room is almost like they’re awaiting the most dreadful news.
“Miss Natasha Romanoff!”
“JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES!” (Y/N) all but screams, eyes wide at her boyfriend who’s also looking shocked.
“There’s no way I could’ve come last, I completed every task in less than ten minutes, and I know full well that Sam took bang on fifteen for de-coding.”
Everyones eyes turn to Tony who has the most mischievous look on his face.
“Rules are rules.”
“You son-of-a-bitch!” Bucky groans, jumping up to go at the man only to be stopped by Steve.
“Now, now.” The blond soldier chuckles.
“Anthony Edward Stark, did you cheat the scores?!” (Y/N) feigns a gasp. “That is my boyfriend, you know!”
“And you’re telling me that you wouldn’t like to see your boyfriend have his legs waxed?” Tony responds, wiggling his brows with the biggest grin on his face.
The girl hesitates at that and can’t help the smile that crosses her lips.
“(Y/N) (M/N) (L/N)!” Bucky groans, playfully slapping her.
“Now, now, children.” Nat mocks.
“Buckle up, Barnes, you’re in for a fun night.” Tony announces, looking like a kid who’s just received a puppy for Christmas.
“Fan-fucking-tastic.” The soldier groans, Steve and (Y/N) both kissing his cheeks and flashing a sympathetic smile. “It won’t be that bad, I’ve seen videos of people just overreacting.”
“You sure about that, sugar?” (Y/N) teases.
“Certain. It’s like a slap to the leg, and I’m a super soldier.”
Famous last words.
///
“How you feeling, Barnacle?”
“Quit calling me that.” Bucky groans as Tony grins down at him, (Y/N) readying up the wax strips. Her and Steve grinning at the opportunity to strip their man’s legs silky smooth.
“How you feeling?” (Y/N) asks, a shy smile on her face.
Bucky gives her a resting bitch face that answers her question.
“Come on, it’s kinda funny.” She attempts, a shy smiling coating her lips once more.
The man tries to refrain from grinning but fails miserably, unable to not smile at her own.
“You’re lucky I love you, you know that?” He comments, chuckling to himself.
“I am well aware.” (Y/N) beams, leaning down to kiss the man, kissing Steve on her way up also.
“Show time!” Nat announces, (Y/N) readying the first strip of wax onto his leg, the man now in boxer shorts and a t-shirt.
“This’ll be easy as piss.” Bucky mumbles, head resting in Tony’s lap - the man wanting to first-hand witness the pain that the soldier has no idea is coming.
“James,” Steve hums.
“Yeah?”
“Remember I love you.” He chuckles, reading up the second strip.
“You guys are a bunch of pussies. This’ll be fine.”
And then he screams. And when they say scream, they mean, (Y/N) literally jumped out her skin after yanking the strip off of his leg, Steve’s arms grabbing her to stop her falling backwards.
Everyone else, especially Sam, Clint, Tony and Nat, are in absolute hysterics.
“HOLY JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! OW!?” The brunet howls, eyes wide at his girlfriend, panting for breaths.
(Y/N) can’t help but giggle, still calming her racing heart as Steve chuckles and cuddles her.
“Thought it was easy as piss, Barnes?” She asks, quirking a brow at her lover.
“It is! I just wasn’t expecting that one!” Bucky groans, throwing his head back into Tony’s lap.
“Prepare yourself then, jerk.” Steve comments, laying down the next wax strip on his boyfriend’s leg, (Y/N) preparing the third.
“Stevie…” The brunet whines, attempting to give his lover the best puppy eyes he can muster up.
The blond only grins, shaking his head.
“Afraid not, darling. I’m far too entertained. Three, two, one-“
“NO!”
And then he’s screaming again. And again. And again.
Until his legs are smoother than silk.
///
“I hate you.” Bucky mumbles for the nth time that night as the trio are lay in bed, the soldier himself curled up in the middle, taking (Y/N)’s usual spot since he feels vulnerable, as he worded it.
“Sorry, what? Didn’t quite catch that the first fifty times.” Steve chuckles, stroking his lover’s back and pressing numerous kisses to his head.
“Softer than me now, Buck.” (Y/N) teases, watching him frown up at her but unable to hold it as she leans forward to kiss him. “Love you.”
“Love you too.” He reluctantly responds. “Love you, Stevie.”
“Love you too, jerk. Love you, sweetheart.”
“You too, Stevie. Goodnight both.”
“Goodnight.”
“Night.”
#MCU#Avengers#Marvel#Love#Romance#Sports Day#Stark Tower#Tony Stark#Steve Rogers#Clint Barton#Bucky Barnes#Natasha Romanoff#Wanda Maximoff#Bruce Banner#Thor Ordinson#Thor#Pepper Potts#Cute#Relationship#Wax#Waxed#Legs waxed#Steve x Bucky#Stucky#Stucky x Reader#Steve x Bucky x Reader#Friendship#Captain America#Iron Man#The Winter Soldier
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Pregnant trans male characters, and the ‘mpreg’ label
The other day, while daydreaming about The Witcher (as is my current pastime-slash-obsession) I made a post that said this:
I have such a strong urge to write trans!Jaskier pregnant with Geralt’s magically helped baby it’s ridiculous
However, should I do it, I flat out refuse to tag it as mpreg and you can fucking fight me on it.
It seems to have resonated with some people (there were likes, at least) but it also confused some others, and so I figure I might as well seize the occasion to expand on something I’ve been chewing on for a while. (I’m pretty sure I’ve at least brushed the topic in conversation with either @kawuli or @trovia before, possibly both. Unfortunately, I can’t find these posts/texts anywhere :/)
So, why am I okay with writing a male character being pregnant but not with labeling the story as mpreg (“male pregnancy”)? It’s actually a very straightforward thing: it’s about trope rules and expectations.
Here’s the thing: from what I’ve read in the past (and judging from the tags of mpreg fics I see on AO3) the classical mpreg trope comes in two flavors:
Temporary magical womb
A/B/O fics*
The first flavor features cis male characters receiving the (afaik, always temporary) ability to bear a child without, for some reason, having any other modification made to their bodies or thinking about the logical and/or practical aspects of that pregnancy. In fact, this part of the story is pretty much entirely ignored, I assume for convenience’s sake.
The second flavor, based on outdated information about wolves (judging by the Alpha/Beta terms), make use of imaginary biologies to cast the child-bearing guys as a “third biological gender” which in my experience amounts to ‘cis guy with a self-lubricating anus and a womb’.**
In both cases, male pregnancy is inherently assumed to be something impossible and outlandish, something Other that can only be achieved by breaking the rules of our universe…which means, in short, that it ignores the fact that trans men exist, that not all of us get rid of our birth genitals and that testosterone doesn’t automatically prevent pregnancy in a trans guy.
Now, mpreg as a trope was born in the ‘80s, so that was definitely before trans identities entered general social awareness, and considering it’s not like people are well educated on trans matters on average, I assume the way this trope works is mostly due to ignorance rather than malice or transphobia specifically.
However as a trans guy, and especially a trans guy who would like to be pregnant some day, if the stars align that way, I cannot and will not put the mpreg trope in the same bag as what it could be like for a trans man to decide to be pregnant. In mpreg fics that actually try to engage with the logistics of their tropes, the focus is (again: from what I’ve seen) on the mechanical aspects of it, and how the character feels about that new thing their body is suddenly capable of doing, sprinkled with the classical and at times kind of sexist pregnancy tropes (cravings, mood swings, etc.).
But as a man who can and would like to get pregnant someday, my questions are very different. Yes, some of them are mechanical, but overall? I know how a womb works, so barring HRT related complications, I have some idea of what to expect, and I know any medical professional will be prepared to handle that aspect of things. The questions I have, and therefore would like to explore/would like to see explored run more along the lines of: what if the hospital personnel is hostile? What if people around me disapprove and leave me without a support system? What if someone hates the idea of me doing this so much they decide to get physical about it? What if I have to resign myself to being misgendered for nine months straight in order to carry the pregnancy to term? What if my child is bullied for who their parents are and the way they were conceived? What if discussing the topic of me wanting to be pregnant reveals some kind of previously unsuspected transphobia in my partner, my family, my friends? What if I decide to go through this and it costs me my job, my house, my life?… I’ve never seen any of these questions ever being asked, or even imagined in an mpreg fic, and given that nowadays the mpreg trope is almost exclusively found in A/B/O fics, I don’t expect them to ever crop up in the genre.
The reason I refuse to label any potential trans![male character] story as mpreg is because whether you look at it from a literary angle or a political one, mpreg is not what I’d be writing. Mpreg is impossible/imaginary in all its aspects. Writing a trans male character going through a pregnancy would, for me, be very rooted in reality, or at least a possible state of reality, and I refuse to label my own body, my own life and my own worries like they’re only possible in a world that is not only not real, but also completely ignorant of people like me.
—
* For those of you who don’t know, A/B/O stands for Alpha/Beta/Omega and it’s a trope based on pseudo animalistic biologies in which the Alphas are naturally dominant, the Betas are naturally submissive, and the Omegas are…well, it varies from fic to fic, but as far as I’ve seen the Omegas are generally the more-or-less-cis men capable of carrying children. (Also they seem to have the same kind of effects on Alphas that Bella Swann had on Edward Cullen, but I’m mostly going by tags and summaries here so I could be wrong).
** At this point, you may be thinking ‘whoa, that guy doesn’t seem to like A/B/O fics!’ you are right. However, this isn’t meant as a condemnation of those fics. Write what you want and all. I’m just here to talk about the sub-category of A/B/O fics that feature mpreg and how that trope is handled in general.
#Jaskier#Mpreg#On fanfiction#Matt writes#My Posts#Queer stuff#Trans specific#Meta#My meta#I'm tagging the Jaskier tag bc that's where I posted the first post and thus where most people would have seen it I guess#also he's the one I'd like to write pregnant so#20n
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