#but I changed a lot so it’s it’s own thing now
Note
Hiiiiii!!!!!!! I recently got back into criminal minds and devoured all ur hotch fics like a MANIAC (you write. So unbelievably well. Im also in love w ur tasm peter stuff, you are just such a good writer thru and thru) and that one request where Jack calls reader mom for the first time really stuck w me so I was wondering if maybe I could request smth of the opposite? Like not-so-single mom!reader and hotch have been dating for a while and her lil girl calls him dad for the first time :3 🖤🖤
thank you for requesting! 💌 —your daughter calls Hotch dad for the first time. fem, 2k
“Come in, come in!” Hotch says, the door held ajar by his arm, forcing you to squeeze in and save the heat. “Quickly, honey, please, get out of the rain.”
Sarah bursts in through the door and away from the rain, her vinyl coat covered in raindrops, her boots wet with mud. “Aaron!” she says, pulling it into something softened and excited at once, though her ‘r’s are weak, closer to ‘w’s. “I missed you.” She jumps from one foot to the other.
He makes sure you’re safely inside before he abandons you. It’s not very kind to you, but he can’t help himself. “Sarah,” he says, without your daughter’s sweetness but heavily fond, “I missed you more, honey. How many days has it been?”
“Four!” she says, holding up four fingers as Hotch grabs her by the waist.
He doesn’t mind her wet coat, working an arm around and beneath her to shuck off her muddy shoes. They topple to the ground to unveil damp socks.
“Oh, no, your socks are wet. I did all the laundry while we were waiting, I have some warm ones for you in the dryer. Should we get you out of this coat?”
“Where’s Jack?” you ask.
“Eating. He was starving, couldn’t wait.”
You kick your shoes off and gather them with Sarah’s to line up by the door. Hotch takes off Sarah’s coat with some one-armed manoeuvring, aware of her smiley gaze following his every move.
“I,” you say, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek, cold lips to his rough skin, “am gonna go to the toilet really quickly. Hi, handsome.”
He savours your kiss and watches you go. He owes you a better greeting, he missed you just as much as he missed your girl. For now, he wipes the cold from Sarah’s cheeks and stations her comfortably on his navel.
He loves her like his own. He’s privileged to get the opportunity, and it’s hard not to feel that low level of awe whenever she’s around, because she loves him the same way. Sarah waits for him to smile before she wraps her arms around his neck, long enough to twine her fingers in the short hair she finds there.
It’s funny to love someone you had no hand in bringing into the world, but no less real. He’d do anything for Sarah. I miss you doesn’t cover it, but it’s a start. “I missed you,” he murmurs, not well-versed in baby talk but always willing to try for his kids. “It’s so nice to see you. Jack missed you too, should we go see him? I can change your socks.”
He ushers her back enough to see her. She has such loving eyes, not shy at all as she nods her head. “Can you make crackers?”
He beams. “Oooh, yes. Crackers and cheese and apple slices, I know what you want, honey. It’s ready for you in the kitchen.”
Things weren’t easy at first for either you nor Hotch. He works too much, and you both have priorities that can’t be shifted, but the connection between you was easy. Love, undoubtedly, pretty much the moment you met, even if it scared him. He never thought he’d get a second chance and he’s not sure you thought you’d find yours either, and yet loving you has been as helpless as loving your daughter. He doesn’t have a choice and he doesn’t want one.
In this time, you’ve found routine. He’s introduced the idea of moving in together and you’re excited for it, though concrete plans haven’t been laid. There’s a lot of questions and no need to rush into answering them yet. He has no intentions of letting you go now —Hotch will do anything it takes to keep his small family.
Today, right now, that’s crackers.
“Sarah!” Jack says when he sees them, jumping off of his chair to climb on top of it. He holds his hands out and Hotch leans down with a loving laugh to let his son hug her. “You’re back!”
“I’m back,” she agrees.
“Do you want some of my sandwiches? Daddy made me two.”
“Yes!” she says, wiggling to be put down and given what he’s promising.
Hotch fights to take her to the sink and wash her little hands, to her horror and whining. He says, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you gotta wash your hands before you eat.”
He puts her in her own chair, and it is Sarah’s chair, outfitted with a big pillow so she can see the table and marked by a pink star sticker, putting a placemat in front of her. Jack quickly pushes one of his sandwiches towards her. “There you go.”
“Thank you, Jackers,” she says.
Hotch smiles. Despite their different interests and ages, they’re quick to get along.
He shouldn’t pry while you’re in the bathroom, but he worries about you. “Honey?” he calls up the stairs.
“I’m just changing!”
“Yeah? Can you bring some socks for Sarah, please?”
You shout back something incomprehensible. He returns to the kitchen, where Sarah looks over the chair with pleading eyes and asks, “Crackers?” a piece of lettuce stuck to her chin.
“Ah,” he says showfully, turning to the fridge to grab the plate of crackers, sliced cheese, and apples he’d Saran wrapped an hour ago. He peels off the wrapping and places it in front of her. “Here, sweetheart. Do you want anything else? Maybe some chips?”
She laughs and grabs a piece of apple without answering him.
“What about you, sweetheart? Drink?” he asks Jack.
“Yes please, daddy.”
Hotch makes Jack a cup of orange juice and Sarah a sippy cup, hers diluted some with water. He places them down in front of the kids, crouching between their chairs, intending to stay and chat. “How’s that?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to listen for your light footsteps on the stairs.
“Thanks, daddy,” Jack says.
“Thank you, daddy,” Sarah echoes, reaching for him. Hotch offers his hand, startled, not quick enough to hide it. She doesn’t pay any mind to his expression, pleased to have her hand held and her big plastic plate of crackers to munch on.
“Why’d you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” you ask, passing him Sarah’s socks, and rounding the table to stand by Jack's other side. “Hi,” you add, ruffling Jack’s hair, “look at you, gorgeous, you got your hair cut.”
Hotch rubs Sarah’s knuckles, trying to phrase it, not sure how to tell you with the kids still there. Will Sarah feel embarrassed if he brings it up so swiftly? Will she feel like she’s done something wrong? Will you?
“What’s wrong?” you ask.
He decides to present you with the situation. He’s not manipulative, but clever. “Mommy got your socks, too. Can we take these cold ones off, is that okay?”
“Yes, please,” Sarah says.
You watch in confusion. Hotch gives you a quick look. Trust me for a second.
He eases the socks off of her feet, laughs when she laughs at his tickling, even if he’s not quite sure how to feel. Happy, he gives her toes a squeeze and bunches a sock up to pull it over her heel and up to her ankle. “One,” he says, repeating the process with the same tenderness. “Two. There we go, all warm again, Sarah.”
“Thanks, daddy.”
You breathe in.
Sarah puts some cheese on a cracker and offers it to Hotch, who eats it while you summon him away with silent parent talk. He kisses her forehead and wipes it clean as he goes.
“Did she do that when I was upstairs?” you ask quietly.
Hotch knows you. Loves you, but knows you intrinsically. He knows just by looking at you that you’re happy, but you’re worried about something, and it’s not hard to guess what it is: he might not want Sarah to call him daddy, and telling her not to might break her heart, and yours too.
“She did.”
“She’s never… expressed that interest to me.”
“Sometimes they think about things more than we know.” Jack still surprises him as he did when he was a toddler.
“She just loves you,” you say.
“I love her. She can call me whatever she wants to.”
You hold his wrist, taking a step closer to him. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.” He murmurs now you’re close, ducking his head to yours, two halves of the same heart looking at one another’s hands. “I love her more than anything in the world. I want to make her crackers for the rest of my life.” Hotch puts his index finger to the soft skin under your chin. “Maybe by tomorrow she’ll forget she called me daddy and she’ll never say it again, but… I want her to. Is that okay?” he asks.
You lean up to kiss him and you nod into his lips, which makes it hard but not impossible to kiss back. “She loves you so much,” you say quietly. You’d only wanted a quick peck.
He might’ve said he loves her more than anything, but there’s a level on which he holds her and Jack where you sit too. He loves you. You made Sarah who she is all by yourself, and you’re so lovable standing in his reach. You’re perfect.
Maybe he’s feeling sweet because Sarah called him daddy.
“I think Jack confused her,” he says.
“Maybe. You are, you know, her dad. You do everything a dad would.”
Hotch slots his leg between yours and leans back to force you into his favourite kind of hug. You laugh slowly, hug the same, your arms sliding up over his shoulders to wrap behind his head, your hand cupping his hair.
He closes his eyes and feels your waist.
“You don’t have to worry,” he says.
“I don’t worry about you and Sarah, I know you love her. I guess I just worry about us. Not that you don’t love me, Aaron.”
“Big changes,” he guesses in a whisper.
“Big changes.”
He encourages you away to hold your face. He hopes that waiting with you in quiet for a while can explain it better than words.
Your shoulders finally relax.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble#criminal minds
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do you believe me now? | 6
in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader are finally honest with each other. complete with tears and more than a few make-up kisses.
series masterlist
this series is 18+
warnings/tags: angst but mostly fluff, i think this qualifies as hurt/comfort, HHEHHEHHEH, lots of kissing, so cheesy, you jokingly imply he's a slut, i need him expeditiously
a/n: thank you guys for being patient with me!! ilysm!! i edited this until i hated it but i hope it's satisfactory for YOU guys..... as always please please let me know what you think!! and i already started the next part hehehe
The car ride is the worst of your life.
Neither of you speak.
And you find yourself wishing, pleading to god that one of you will say something to fix this—but each minute ticks by and the streets get familiar and a quiet song ends and you realize you were silly to ever think a twenty minute car ride would change anything.
Spencer was the luckiest you’d ever been and your relationship is floating away like a balloon you forgot to hold on to—nothing more than a red dot lost to the vast blue.
Maybe for him it’s easier. You’re pretty sure it is, as you risk one or two glances at his unreadable profile that turn into lingering, obsessive looks because you’re panicking and realizing you’ll maybe never see him this close again. It’s funny and terrible how quickly you’re remembering what it was like to see him at the coffee shop for the first time—how he was nothing but a beautiful stranger, completely unknown to you and worlds away. Now you’ve had him, sort of, and you’re turning into the girl who could never have him all over again.
When he turns onto your street reality begins to sink in. Your heart is a short fuse inside your chest as he pulls into a spot and parks the car. The rumble of the engine cuts. The headlights stay on.
For a moment, everything is quiet. You wish you could insert your own reality into the silence—one where you’re simply enjoying each other’s company and there’s no sense of impending doom to take your breath away.
“Do you want to talk?” Spencer asks, looking pointedly ahead where the lights shine off the back of some other person’s car. A wayward moth dips and swirls into the high beams. You watch Spencer track it with his eyes.
“I’m not sure what to say,” you admit quietly. The weight of everything you’d like to say sits in your stomach like lead, too heavy to divulge. It’s only been a few weeks of having to carry the truth around with you and your muscles are already fatiguing. The idea of carrying it around indefinitely makes your eyes sting. You’re already exhausted.
Maybe a stronger person would find that last bit of energy to make a final push, to save the relationship just before it falls apart.
But you never claimed to be strong.
Deep down, you must’ve known you weren’t ready for a real relationship. You can’t handle all of this pretending to be okay with things that hurt. Even if that's the grown-up thing to do.
“I tried. I really did, I’m sorry—I’m—”
Before you can get the words out your throat tightens around them and you bury your face in your hands.
The sound of his seatbelt unlocking and whirring back surprises you—but you’re even more surprised when he undoes yours. Still, you move your arm so it can snap back into place and then he’s pulling you into him.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, one hand on the back of your head as you lean over the small gap between the seats, unable to stop yourself from shedding more tears. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry.”
He’s sorry.
For not loving you?
If it’s not your fault he doesn’t love you back—then whose fault is it? Who’ll take the fall?
But still, he’s holding you so carefully, like you’re made of porcelain. Something to be protected. Or at the very least, something to be mourned even after it’s in pieces.
As you lean against him, lulled by the slow in and out of his breath, the inverse of yours, and the way he slips his thumb over the back of your hair in silence for a few minutes—you wonder what’s missing. Why he’s not satisfied.
“I don’t understand you.”
The words come out flat, muffled by his coat, garbled with leftover tears.
“What was that?” Spencer asks gently, still playing with your hair. You sniffle, adjusting your head so your cheek is to his shoulder and your lips are no longer smushed.
“I just… I want you to explain it to me.”
“Explain what?”
You sit up just enough to meet his eyes. The movement seems to take him by surprise, but he keeps his hands on you—one slipping to your cheek and the other still loyal to your back. He brushes his fingers over the delicate skin beneath your eye and you cover them with your own in an effort to get him to stop treating you so kindly. But even now, when you’re mad at him for being so gentle in the way that he hurts you, you can’t help but seek the familiar callus on the side of his trigger finger. It’s an odd thing to anticipate missing, but you’ll miss all of him. You can’t imagine holding a hand without that familiar anomaly—a cairn to show you where he’s been and who you’re holding.
He curls his warm hand around yours and you hold your joined fist out for him in emphasis, speaking louder than either of you were prepared for.
“This! You! I understand that we don’t feel the same way about each other and maybe I can’t change that. But then you do this and I don’t understand why. I don’t understand why this isn’t enough for you, because it’s enough for me, and I just—I don’t know what else I can give you. I don’t know what else there is. I don’t understand why I’m not... enough.” The tears are back and flowing freely, but you forge breathlessly ahead, because you’ve finally found a way to be honest and you’re not going to stop now. Spencer is frowning, lips parted and clearly confused or shocked or something, but you continue your confessional before he has the chance to interrupt. “I want to be enough, but you didn’t even give me the chance, and I don’t think it’s fair that we’re breaking up when you didn’t let me try. Maybe if you just told me, if you explained what’s missing I could fix it and you could love me back, and—please. I just want to try. Please, Spencer.”
A car engine revs somewhere far away, echoing down the street. It reverberates for several seconds, unimpeded by any other noise. Any word, any breath.
His voice is thin when he responds a moment later, still studying your face with a kind of scrutiny that is so indecipherable you don’t know how you expect him to respond.
“Love you back?”
You blink.
Your stomach drops.
For all that you’d revealed, for all that you’d willingly humiliated yourself with your pathetic supplication—you’d meant to keep that four letter word to yourself.
What a way to make an exit from your relationship.
Spencer is still looking at you, keeping you pinned to your seat, and as much as you wish it wasn’t the case he’s not going to let you off the hook this time. He’s going to demand an answer, and you have a 0% chance of bursting into mist before you have to provide an explanation, so you have no choice but to say something.
What, exactly, you’re going to say—you don’t know.
“I didn’t…”
“You didn’t mean it.”
The response comes so quickly, sharp as a slap, that you jump back slightly, a deep frown twisting your brow. Spencer makes no effort to keep his hand in yours as you slip from his grasp.
“That’s not what I was—”
“Just say what you mean.” Silence. “Tell me.”
It’s like he’s got an ice pick to your chest. It’s like he wants you to humiliate yourself even further, to punish you for your messy indiscretions.
“Spencer…”
It’s a warning. You’re giving him a chance to stop this before he hurts you sadistically. Before he becomes unrecognizable.
He swallows.
“Please.” And then, a second later, when you’re still trying to process the quiet pain in his voice and suddenly faced with the unexpected question of who is hurting who, “please, just… tell me if you meant it.”
For the first time tonight, you notice how exhausted he looks. Slightly gaunt, even paler than usual. Shadows pool deeper in the hollows of his face. His eyes look glossy, dark crescents below awaiting to catch tears you realize you’ve never seen fall. The tonal shift has you so disoriented, so out of your body like you’re seeing yourself in his own injuries—the truth becomes the only humane answer. Even if it hurts you.
“Yes. I meant it. You know I mean it.”
“I don’t know that,” he says on a shaky exhale. “How would I know that?”
And he’s got the ice pick back at your sternum. It’s tipped in poison. The mallet trembles in the air. So does your voice.
“You told me you didn’t feel the same. You said it was new for me and different and I was going to make things complicated and you treated me like I was a stupid kid, and—and it doesn’t even matter. This was dumb. I’m sorry I said anything, I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing. I just.. I can’t do this.”
You’re about to open the door, every muscle tense as you wonder what the hell is wrong with you. What reduced you to the weepy, pathetic girl, begging a boy to love her despite knowing it doesn’t work like that—the same girl you’ve looked down your nose at in every film and TV show and in every high school and college hallway since you learned what self-superiority meant. Before you knew exactly what it felt like to be her.
“Wait.”
He says your name.
And of course you pause.
You want a reason to stay. If you had more self-respect, you wouldn’t. But you know you’ll give him as many chances to give you an excuse as he’s willing to take. You knew that before your fingers met the metal of the door handle.
“Just—hold on a second. Can you look at me?”
You sniffle and wipe your eyes with the heel of your palm before turning around to face him once more. You wonder if anyone will ever have the kind of power he has over you ever again.
The despair leaves only wisps of itself on his face—mostly he looks like he’s thinking hard about something. It’s jarring.
“You’re talking about our phone call on Sunday, right?”
You nod petulantly with a quick teary eye-roll because obviously that’s what you’re talking about.
Something lights in his own dark eyes as he inhales, parts his lips as if to speak, and stops himself again. Like he’s got news that he’s not sure how to break.
“The things I said, on that call… I wasn’t talking… about you.”
Your insides feel like tangled yarn as you stare at him uncomprehendingly.
“I mean, I was. I was talking about us. But not in the way you think, it was—” he stops, rubbing his eyes and taking a frazzled breath. “I know what it’s like to be the one who cares more. I have to assume that I’m the one who cares more because when I don’t, I ruin things. And with you, I felt like—the stakes were so high, and I thought it’d be safer for me to not say anything until I knew you felt the same. But I know that’s not fair to you so I tried to tell you over the phone that if you didn’t feel the same way it was okay. And now I’m—I’m realizing the way I phrased it was incredibly unclear and misleading, and somehow I fucked it up in a completely new way. But I wasn’t referring to you. I just didn’t want you to feel stuck with someone who can’t give you casual when you have so much ahead of you. I had no idea you felt that way about me. And I am so, so sorry that I hurt you. I never meant for that to happen.”
You blink.
And for some reason, begin sobbing.
Spencer freezes for a moment, then tells you to stay there and you barely have the capacity to wonder what he means as you hear his own door opening then slamming shut again. A moment later he’s on the passenger side, opening your door and leaning in.
“Hey,” he whispers, gently pulling your hands from your face and making you turn your head to look at him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But that’s good news, right? Why all the tears, lovely? What’s wrong? Please talk to me.”
You take a shuddering breath.
“This is all my fault, I ruined everything because I was too scared to tell you before and now—and now—”
Stroking your cheeks to wipe away the tears is a futile effort because they just keep coming, but Spencer does it anyway, and he speaks so kindly, so evenly it somehow hurts deeper.
You were terrible to him. And he had been prepared to accept that. He thought you didn’t love him, and he was still willing to be the subject of all your cryptic frostiness and inexplicable cruelty.
“It is not your fault. You didn’t ruin anything. I’m still right here. We’re okay.”
“But we’re breaking up, and—and I was so mean to you. That’s not okay, Spencer.”
You finally look at him. He’s close, eyes warm and wide as he looks directly into your own teary gaze, shaking his head earnestly.
“You were confused, honey. So was I. It was just a misunderstanding. But… I know I was unkind to you. I cannot express how sorry I am for that, and the last thing I want is for us to break up, but if you think that’s what’s best, I’ll… I’ll understand.”
His voice is dangerously thin by the end, strained with impending tears of his own. But he’s eternally kind—backlit by the streetlamps and beautiful like an angel. Whatever you want, he’ll give you. Even if it’s this.
“I don’t want that. I don’t.” You sigh, closing your eyes briefly against the world as you realize the impending breakup had been a delusion all along. That you were going to let your insecurities and some sick pride end the relationship for you. All that despair had been for nothing. Or—maybe not nothing. You realize he still hasn’t said it back. But you won’t be a coward. It’s not worth losing him. You open your eyes. “I just—I want us to be on the same page. And if you don’t love me yet or if you don’t wanna say it, or if you can’t, I get it—it’s okay, but if you don’t could you maybe just tell me? So that I’ll know—”
Before you can process it Spencer is leaning in, head angled to accommodate you, pressing his lips to yours so softly your breath catches and your stomach flips. Maybe softer than he ever has before, and it’s like taking a deep breath after holding it through a dark tunnel. You exhale a tentatively soft sigh against him, releasing air you don't have along with the fraught tension in most of your body. All too quickly he’s pulling away, hands still cupping your cheeks and thumbs stroking over your skin. When he speaks it’s not quite a whisper, but secret-soft.
“How could I not be so in love with you?”
Suddenly you can feel the world turning underneath you. Or maybe you’re just dizzy from lack of oxygen. Either way it feels good. A drop of warmth makes a splash in your stomach and slowly spreads through every vein and capillary until you’re sure you’re glowing gold.
“Really?”
“Of course really. I’m—” he takes a breath of his own, and you realize how difficult this must be after what happened the last time he professed his love for a girl. Your chest aches for him. His voice is low and solicitous, but it wavers slightly. “I should have told you sooner. I wanted to, but I was worried—I was worried the way I felt for you was… too much. I am so in love with you it scares me. I still don’t know what to say or how to act around you. When I’m gone, sometimes I imagine quitting my job, just so I can come home and see you sooner. When I have a gun in my hands, I start thinking about all the things I would do to keep you safe, or—or just because you asked me to. And if what you wanted was for me to leave you alone, I would have done that. If you wanted me to drop everything and everyone to be with you I would have done that. And I know you’d never ask those things of me. But any of them, I’d do in a heartbeat. Which is… it’s a little scary, huh?”
The final sentence is a nervous self-effacing chuckle, which you can match in sound only—one breathy attempt at a laugh from your slackened jaw.
When that’s the only response you can manage, he clears his throat.
“Too honest?”
You shake your head as if in a fog.
“No. Not too honest. But I’m just… I’m trying not to cry again.”
He smooths over your hair fondly. His own eyes are shiny and full of wonder as he studies you for a short while, like you're doing something much more awe-inspiring than sniffling in the passenger seat of his car. Then one hand is dropped to your shoulder and the other braced against your seat back. Finally, he pulls back to a more reasonable distance with a shaky sigh. It’s a sound of relief. You want to hug him, and all the past hims who have ever been hurt by anyone.
“You, um—you need to rehydrate. Do you have anything that will rebalance your electrolytes? If you don’t I can go to the store—”
“You don’t need to do that,” you assure him with a small, watery laugh, loosely grabbing the wrist that brushes your shoulder.
“But you need to take care of yourself. And I know you haven’t been drinking enough water because you never do.”
There’s a lingering overwrought shakiness to his voice, but it’s still the most relaxed he’s sounded since he came home, and you realize that the worst is behind you. The storm that you’d been so sure you couldn’t weather is somehow clearing up.
“I can’t believe we almost just broke up.”
He hangs his head, dropping it to the curve of your neck and groaning.
“Don’t say that. Let’s not think about that right now. Just—” when he raises his head again, and shakes it slightly to get his hair out of his eyes, they’ve cleared, like he’s on a mission to change the subject. “Let’s go upstairs. Will you let me take care of you?”
You give him an exaggerated nod, still sniffing, and the smile that grows on his face is like seeing the sun rise above the ocean. You love his smile. You love him.
Spencer kisses you on the cheek.
“Okay. Let me lock the car and then we can go up.”
As soon as you get into your apartment and turn on the light Spencer goes to the kitchen. It’s a small unit, but antique and nice enough, though you prefer Spencer’s. There’s still some tension as you observe him filling a glass with water, kicking your boots off by the door—but not necessarily the bad kind. You’re not sure exactly what it is.
“Where are you going?” He asks as you pass the kitchen area to turn on a standing lamp in the opposite corner of the room.
“I don’t like the big light.” A warm glow emanates through stained glass as you flick it on.
“I know that. I just didn’t realize it was a higher priority than your wellbeing.” His tone is sardonic but he’s already switching off the overhead lighting for you. You give him a wry smirk as you finally approach and take the proffered glass from his waiting hand.
“Ambience over everything, baby.”
His brows pinch at the cavalier sentiment—you never call him baby, so you're sure he knows it’s a joke—and he shakes his head with a humorous little huff of air through his nose, watching as you drink deeply. Your hand is shaking. Spencer notices and covers it with both of his, taking the half empty glass with one and grabbing your hand with the other.
“Adrenaline,” he murmurs, kissing your knuckles. “It’ll go away soon. Did you get enough?”
You nod, smiling small but genuinely. Emotionally exhausted or not, you’re happy.
Spencer strays, not far, to set the glass on the counter. Then he turns to face you, bracing his palms on the ledge and just watching you for a moment with the kind of smile that makes you nervous in the best way.
He beckons you to him with nothing more than a quick tilt of his head, and you shuffle across the floor in your socks til you’re toe to toe. Without your shoes on, he feels much taller. Still he just watches you for a moment—not that you mind. Your view isn’t half-bad. The faint warm glow from the lamp casts shadows over his face, highlighting all the perfect angles, deep brown eyes framed by dark lashes, and lips that still make you feel like a girl with a crush when you look at him. His hair is getting long. You’re unreasonably glad you still get to look at him like this.
“Hi,” you whisper—something about the intimate dark of the room feels like a place for secrets.
“Hi, pretty.” Spencer tucks hair behind your ear, eyes soft wherever they focus on your face like if he even looks at you too sharply you might break. “Have I told you how much I missed you while I was gone?”
He knows he hasn’t.
“Even when I was being a heinous bitch?”
Spencer laughs and it makes you smile too. The way his smile changes the landscape of his whole face will never feel any less like observing a natural phenomenon. It’s unfair how beautiful he is, and how you’re keeping him all to yourself in the dark on the fourth floor of an apartment building in DC.
“Even then. Not sure that’s the wording I would have used.”
“I missed you too,” you admit softly.
He maps your face with wandering eyes like he’s done a hundred times. Vaguely you wonder if he sees the same kind of beauty in you that you see in him. If he sees landmarks in your flaws and stars beyond the observable universe in your eyes.
Spencer sweeps your hair over your shoulder, fingertips grazing your neck.
“Can I kiss you?” He murmurs.
Butterflies fill your stomach and you nod shyly, unsure of what would come out if you tried to speak.
His free hand settles on your lower back and brings you into him until you’re chest to chest. With his other on your jaw, he bows his head, and you angle yours up, allowing your eyes to flutter shut.
Spencer kisses you so gently it aches in your chest, still cupping your face and stroking your cheek. You can’t help wrapping your arms around his middle—before he’s pulling away far too soon.
And he’s laughing.
“What were you drinking?”
You frown, flustered and trying to remember a time before his lips were on yours.
“Water.”
“Before that, baby. At the bar.”
You think back even further, head muddled even more by the endearment so that it takes you a moment to recall.
“A Shirley Temple. Derek brought it to me. Why? Is that bad?”
“No,” he says, still smiling as his lips brush yours. “You’re perfect. You taste like candy. It’s cute.”
Oh. You feel warm as he presses another kiss to your lips—and this time you insist on him staying awhile. He’s happy to oblige.
Spencer kisses you soft and careful at first, and then deeper, but still so slow, until you can’t help the way you’re bunching the fabric of his shirt between your fingers and rising on your toes to try and get impossibly closer. He kisses you the way you’ve been needing him to since he left, long and unhurried and sweet—and takes everything you give him, siphoning away all your leftover turmoil and angst until you’re weightless. You’re deprived of oxygen, you’re dizzy, and you don’t care at all.
“I love you,” you breathe against him before he captures your lips again with a hum that flips your stomach, his hand rubbing over your hip.
“Say it again,” he mutters against your mouth a second later, brushing hair away from your face.
It comes out a little mumbled this time between kisses, but it comes out all the same.
“Love you.”
He sighs into you—relief that mirrors your own.
“I love you.”
It seems like the kind of thing that will never stop sounding perfect from his lips.
A final deep kiss shortens into a series of smaller ones, and then he’s pulling away slowly, brushing the corner of your mouth affectionately.
Both of you require a few deep breaths—a moment to let your sparkling eyes wildly chart each familiar curve and convex and shade and shadow of the other’s face—before either of you can speak. Spencer breaks the silence first.
“I’m sorry.”
You frown, stirred from your brainless bliss by his unexpected apology.
“For what?”
The fiery glow in his eyes dampens slightly.
“For what I said at the bar.”
Oh.
That.
It feels like a lifetime away—memories seen through someone else’s eyes. Words like blows from a less familiar mouth.
You look away. For a while, you’d forgotten about that. Ideally he wouldn’t have reminded you.
At least he doesn’t make you look at him. He just strokes your hair, watching you examine the tiled counter. His voice is soft and soothing, like he’s appealing to a scared rabbit. Or maybe something angrier and with more teeth.
“You’re not immature, or badly behaved, or thoughtless. I was having an emotional reaction, I got defensive, and I lashed out. It was unfair and unkind of me to throw those things back in your face when I know how much trust it takes for you to be vulnerable with me. There’s nothing I can say or do that will adequately make up for that, but I want you to understand that I didn’t say any of it because it was the truth. I said it because I didn’t understand how you were feeling and I was hurt. I was insecure and I acted juvenile. I am so, so sorry, honey. You don’t have to forgive me, but you do need to know that none of it is true.”
Once you bite your lip long enough to be sure you won’t cry again, you speak.
“It’s okay,” you insist with a cheerfulness as natural as hard plastic, something in your chest twinging. “I was mean too. Like you said, we were both confused.”
“It is not. I made you cry.”
Sometimes you forget that he’s not like other people. He’ll never accept anything less than the barest truth. So you look back up at him and speak with a level of honesty that you hope satisfies him.
“I forgive you. You didn’t mean it. And I have insurance because Derek said he and Emily would kick your ass if you’re mean to me again.”
You hear the sad humor in his voice. His hand runs up and down your back.
“If I’m ever mean to you again, I personally invite you to kick my ass. And then let Derek and Emily have their turn.” He thumbs at your cheek, studying you in silence for a moment. “I can’t tell you how much I wish I could take it back.”
You stand up a little straighter. Spencer tracks you with his eyes, noting the way you smile slightly.
“You’ll find a way to make it up to me.”
“I’ll do anything for you,” he admits, barely a whisper and the truth of it so heavy you can feel it too.
But for tonight you can’t contend with more weight.
“You know what you could do right now?”
The mischief in your tone is obvious, and he hesitates, like he’s not sure he wants to let you move on from this so quickly. But eventually he plays along, pressing his thumb into the dip of your back and speaks lowly, just as you’d hoped he would.
“What’s that?”
You smile slyly.
“You could kiss me again.”
“Hm… I don’t know, three times in one night? Sounds a little excessive.”
“Do you want to be forgiven or not?” You huff. He smiles lazily, already dipping his head to press his lips to yours.
“I thought I was already forgiven.”
“Apologies can be retracted.”
“Ah.” His next words are mumbled as his lips ghost yours. “Well we wouldn’t want that.”
Spencer puts you out of your misery, not bothering to warm you up to it before he’s kissing you with a deep need. It’s still languid, and not hungry, exactly—it’s more like an aching, mind-numbing thirst. It’s all-consuming, overwhelming to have all of his burning focus pinpointed on you like this. Both hands come to cup your face and you wonder if he wants you in ways that he doesn’t entirely understand, just as you want him. You wonder if anything could possibly sate this desire to possess him completely and for him to possess you, to trade corporeal forms—or if it’s just something you’ll have to live with like a metaphysical itch you can’t scratch. As he forces you to tip your head back for him, using his height to his advantage, breathing deeply against you and attempting to push himself impossibly closer, you begin to think he understands exactly how you feel.
As soon as you’d sensed he wanted it, your lips had parted for him. He knows he could have any part of you. He knows how eager you are to give yourself to him. You’ve done everything to prove it, and yet you’ve never needed him quite like you do ask he pushes off the counter and slowly backs you against the wall, protecting your head with a hand as the paintings rattle ever so slightly. You gasp into his mouth and he kisses you greedier still, but his hands don’t stray from your cheeks.
Not until, that is, you hook your right leg around his left, and he catches it, fingers wrapping under the bend of your knee.
Never in your life have you regretted picking jeans rather than a skirt more than you do right now.
But to your disappointment, Spencer slows down to a halt—pulling his lips from yours like they’d been stuck by molasses until he’s far enough away to study you wildly, panting just as you are. His hair hangs over his smoldering eyes. He’s disheveled. It’s sexy.
“What?” You whisper, voice surprisingly hoarse.
He looses a dry, abashed laugh. The flush he’s sporting is incredibly charming.
“I’m supposed to be playing nice with you.”
Spencer says it like it’s a mild hindrance. Something frissons in your core. You smile a little wider as you continue to catch your breath, which seems to please him.
“Playing nice?”
“Being gentle. I’m not supposed to push my favorite things against walls when they’re delicate.”
Your face heats at the way he speaks of you—if it weren’t Spencer, if you didn’t know he really doesn’t think of you as an object, you’d be pissed. But instead all you can think about is how good it feels when he calls you his.
“According to who?”
His eyes dart between yours and then down to your lips several times before he averts them to the wall beside you with an intensity that could burn holes through the plaster. Is that how he looks at you?
“According to me. I think… god, you're going to hate me for this. But I think I need you to kick me out.”
You drop your leg at the same time as you do your heart.
“What?”
“I know,” he says, over-apologetically, “I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let that escalate. But we can’t… do anything tonight.” Before you can protest, he rushes to explain himself. “It’s just that it’s been a long day. It’s been a long week, actually, and I doubt either of us have slept very much, and I think you’re really drained, and probably not thinking super clearly. I don’t think you’re in the best place for decision making.”
You look pointedly down to where he still has you pressed to the wall.
“I think I’m in a great place.”
At that he steps back, but lets his hands find yours and pulls you away from the wall—just not quite as close as before. His nose bumps against yours as he speaks low and sweet.
“I understand that you want me to stay right now. But it’s not a good idea to associate fighting with physical pleasure. That can set some really dangerous patterns.”
“We’re not fighting,” you plead, matching his tone as you look up at him with big eyes. His fingers lace with yours.
“You’re right. Maybe fighting was the wrong word. But we had some pretty intense conversations today, didn’t we?”
Reluctantly you nod.
“Right,” he agrees. “Same premise. We need to be able to have those conversations without getting distracted.”
In a last ditch attempt to get him to change his mind, you give him your best approximation of the imploring, wide-eyed gaze he sometimes uses on you. Something not entirely smile and not entirely smirk twists the corners of his mouth. When he ducks down to kiss you quickly, you reciprocate, but you lack the enthusiasm of earlier.
“Hey.”
“Hm,” you respond, dejectedly.
“Don’t get all grumpy because I don’t put out.”
That puts a disgruntled little smile on your face as he probably knew it would.
“I guess you just gave it up easy to all those other women.”
He grabs your chin and gives you a final peck.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never been with other women.”
“Mhm,” you grumble good-naturedly, pushing away from him and going to the door to undo the deadbolt. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
“Wow. I really must have overstayed my welcome if that’s the goodbye I get.”
You turn back around, brows raised.
“Oh, I was prepared to be very welcoming. This is your doing.”
“Uh-huh. Come here.”
Happily you skitter back across the few feet of wooden flooring and wrap your arms tightly around him one more time, pressing your cheek to his chest. He’s ready, winding his arms over yours and rubbing your back. It’s eerily similar, you realize as he presses his face into the concave of your shoulder, to when he’d left on that most recent case.
But at the same time—everything’s different.
And you won’t make the same mistake twice.
“Hey,” you smile, resting your head on his shoulder. Spencer pulls back to look at you, a similar grin on his face.
“Hey what?”
“I remembered what I was gonna say.”
The grin widens. He knows exactly what you’re talking about.
“Tell me.”
“I was going to tell you that I love you. And—I hope you’re not one of those people who’s uncomfortable being told that often. Because if that’s the case I’m really going to annoy you.”
“I’m not that kind of person,” he assures. “Tell me as often as you can.”
“But you should say it back. It’s more polite that way.”
“I love you,” he murmurs, in a voice more serious than your teasing tones had been but still soft and sweet around the edges. “You know, people talk about love as if it’s completely irrational and illogical. But with you… I think the world actually makes more sense than it used to. I understand things I never did before. You’ve taught me a lot.”
It’s like a lightshow in your stomach. You wonder if he has any idea the effect his casual musings have on you.
“You already knew everything.”
“Not everything,” Spencer whispers. “Not about the things that matter.”
And you’re fresh out of teases. All you can do is look up at him with big eyes again, in awe of the fact that you get to keep him after all.
“Will you text me when you get home?” You request, voice reverent in the wake of an admission you could never hope to top.
“I will. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
You nod, because it doesn’t even matter if you had other plans tomorrow. They’re as good as cancelled.
Spencer kisses your cheek, and you get the sense that things are still being left unfinished. There’s an unresolved tension that you can’t shake, even after all the apologies and kisses and sweet words. Still, he made a point with his talk about not mixing argument with pleasure, and you’d like to respect those wishes because you respect him—even if every atom of your being shakes with desire to keep him locked in your bedroom, hidden away from the world together, for as long as you can possibly manage.
Eventually, you loosen your hold, and you let him go. He lingers at the door, hands in his pockets, just watching you and mirroring your small smile as you hold onto the counter with an iron grip to keep yourself in check. After he finally peels his gaze away from yours and silently closes the door behind him, you stand there, staring at the wood for at least a minute.
Once you manage to shake yourself from your revery with a deep breath, you grab your glass from earlier and stand in front of the sink, watching it fill with a white jet of water. It’d be a shame to admit it to him, but maybe Spencer is right. Maybe you do need time to emotionally digest today. After all—that was technically your first argument. It seems to have left you sort of wound up. Not in a bad way, per se—maybe you just need to take a shower, let the hot water roll over your shoulders and wash away the frenetic energy that clings to you.
Still, something tells you that you won’t be getting much sleep tonight, even if you do take the world’s longest shower. You’re simply too high-strung. You wonder if having Spencer here would fix that or make it worse. But ultimately, he’d made the call that it was a bad idea for him to stay, and you’re generally inclined to trust his judgement.
The thought makes you laugh into your cup as you drink. Even after the debacle that was the past week, you trust him to know what he’s doing. Maybe you need to rethink that, at least temporarily, until he’s had a chance to redeem himself.
Just then, your front door is opening with absolutely zero warning and slamming shut again before you can finish whipping around. Your heart threatens to choke you and you almost drop your glass, clutching your chest.
“Jesus, you—”
But the words die in your throat as Spencer storms toward you, shrugging his coat off with a white-hot chill in his eyes. It’s enough to freeze you in place, heart drumming against the confines of your ribs.
“You really need to start locking that door,” he breathes, tossing his jacket on the counter before grabbing your face and crashing his lips into yours, palms pressed to your jaw and fingers pushing into your hair. You stand there, hands hovering in air before you gain the wherewithal to blindly set the glass down behind you. Your heart is pounding as you immediately submit to the kiss, whining softly against his lips and cautiously seeking stability in the fabric of his shirt. Spencer pulls away only briefly, allowing you to gasp for much-needed air. His brown eyes are like molten gold on you, pupils blown wide and wild as he scans your face, taking heavy breaths of his own. “Anyone could just walk in.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic
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I'm the dad now
"Come on Dad, this is gonna hurt both of us. Just stop fighting and let go. You're not gonna win."
The hairy man was alone in the bathroom fighting with himself, screaming in pain, grabbing his neck and trying to comfort himself. He spoke to himself, which may sound schizophrenic, but this wasn't the case. He was being possessed for the first time by his teenage son, Joe, who had big troubles at school for skiping classes. Joe wasn't usually the type to skip school, but there was this bully he wanted to get back at. He found way to possess someone, but it took a lot of practice to do. You couldn't just possess someone asleep, but them being awake was the thing that made it so hard. They fought and the more they fought the harder it became to stay in the body. But after many many hours of possessing multiple students of his for just a few seconds, he finally felt like he could be ready to possess his bully now. If it weren't for the letter from school that came in mail this morning. Joe opened it and saw that they asked his father to come by for a meeting with the principal. "Oh, no. My dad can't see this. I have to do something." An evil and slightly reckless idea followed.
And as you guessed correctly, Joe's idea was to just possess his father and go to the meeting himself. Did he think about the consequences? No. But that didn't matter now, because his father still faught for his body pretty hard. The only lucky thing for Joe was that his father won't remember the process of possession.
"I win dad. I am stronger. You have to sleep now and let it go!"
Few minutes of fight followed and then quiet.
Joe laughed with tears in his eyes. Sweat all ower his body from the fight. "You could have atleast made my possession a bit easier than this, dad."
Now was the perfect time to hurry up, dress dad's body and meet the principal. But Joe's teenage mind went to a different place. His dad can be late. It's about Joe's life. Not him. He only has to show up
Joe P.O.V.
"Damnnnnn dad! You have really been hitting the gym recently, haven't you? Maaan look at me" I didn't expect this to be so hot. I was a bit grossed out possessing my own dad, but now I might actually enjoy this.
"I never noticed, how really handsome you are, daddy." Hairy pecs, beautiful biceps. You're a real man, I'd like to be some day. Well... not someday. Now."
"It's actually not your biceps now, dad. It's all mine. Just look at it. So amazing. The boys at school would be so jealous. No they WILL be jealous. Just wait till I show them who I am now."
"Oh dad. Why the hell have you been hiding all this from me. I would have never thought about possessing that fucker Bill. Why should I even bother now about some dumb school shit. I can be an adult man for fuck's sake. I am the man now. I am my DAD."
"These muscles are so firm and tight. I wonder how many times a week you have been going. Might get used to it now." Wait, am I really thinking what I am thinking? Do I want to stay like this. No, this must be the after efect of possession, not just a desire to be the hairy dad of mine.
"Haha, I'm so heavy now that I'd most certainly beat all the boys in the football club. Well maybe not the quarterback, but everyone else I might. Maybe I should get Trevor to possess him. We could enjoy being two studs together. I would be a bit older, but I'm sure he won't mind. Especially not while we are exploring our new bodies."
"Which brings me to this awful towel." I dropped it on the floor where it belongs
"Wohohooo, much better. Damn dad, the razor stays clean all the time for a reason right? I won't change that don't worry. I'm pretty sure Trevor likes his men hairy. Not like he would know what a man's touch is like or even sex. But tonight he will. I will let him scratch my beard, kiss my biceps, massage my back."
"Oh boy, I have to go take care of this beast now. Don't want to cum in the principals office. Haha, I love being my dad."
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I LOVE THE FICS LATELY AND ALL THE TIME !!
one of them being the cc being obsessed with her gf , now i wanna see a kate martin being obsessed with her gf !!!
Always take rests !!!!
Work Song . KM
pairing: kate martin x reader
A/N: i’m not sure if anon wanted soft, tooth rotting obsession, but i yearn for sweetie pie kate so i hope it’s ok :’)
Boys workin' on empty
Is that the kinda way to face the burnin' heat?
kate was exhausted to say the least. practices, games…everything was really weighing down on her. she had so much on her plate all the time and it often got to be too much for her to handle. there was a lot of stress on her recently, being drafted and being the new girl on the team. she bared the overwhelming feeling of having to impress everyone, prove that she could handle it. and deep down she knew she could. kate was strong and smart and resilient, but her biggest fear was letting people down. letting you down.
that’s why, during times like this, she turned to you. her biggest supporter, her number one fan, her everything. you had been with her since the beginning. you were there for every meltdown and all the late nights spent in tears when kate felt like a failure. you were there for every loss and every win, there to clean up her nasty bruises and cuts. and now you were here to guide her through this huge change in her life. she wouldn’t be able to count on her fingers the amount of times you had truly saved her in the midst of all this. kate struggled with change, hated how she felt like she needed to start over with a whole new team and a whole new life. but you were there to remind her that nothing was going to change, you would still be with her every step of the way. all she needed was you, the most important thing in her life.
you were the reason she got up in the morning. you were the reason she kept pushing even when she felt like giving up. because she knew that at the end of the day, you’d be there with her, arms holding her tight to ground her. that you’d never leave her and, for that, she wanted to make you proud.
I just think about my baby
I'm so full of love, I could barely eat
she was gone for the week, in another state for an away game. but a week was 7 days too long for kate, she couldn’t stand being away from you. she remembers the night before she left, how she was packing her things unwillingly as you made sure she had everything in her bag. you were trying so hard to get her excited, it was going to be one of her first games upon her pro-ball debut and you had assumed she’d be ecstatic. but instead she was sulking (typical kate), talking about how much she was going to miss you.
“i can’t believe you’re about to go live out your life long dream and you’re sitting here pouting” you teased. she knew you were right, and she really was quite excited, but the thought that you wouldn’t be there killed her.
normally you would attend like you always did, but you needed to take the week to focus on finishing up school. kate admired the way you prioritized your studies, but there were times like these in which she cursed your determination. all she wanted was to see you out there, amongst the crowd, cheering her on. a big ‘20’ plastered on your shirt to show your support and a gratifying smile on your face. you were her lucky charm, she would say. but now she here, far from home and missing her girl.
it was the night before the game and kate and the team had opted for a nice dinner out. something to hype everyone up and to boost morale…well that’s what she was told. but it did little to cheer her up and get her excited. she dreaded leaving her lonely hotel room, somewhat dim and weary without you there with her. it had been a long time since she stayed in a room without you. kate had to fight her own mind to attend dinner with the girls, just wanting to stay in and facetime you instead. nevertheless, she managed to get dressed up and make an appearance.
the entire night she was miserable, as expected. she wanted to join in on the conversations, talk about what her teammates were talking about. but she couldn’t help but feel sorry for herself. she was still jet lagged, tired, nervous, and definitely missing you. she couldn’t even eat her food because she couldn’t focus on anything else but the image of you. memories of your relationship flooded her mind as she messed with the food on her plate, all she wanted was to go back home.
not able to stand it anymore, she made some excuse about being sick so she could leave. she packed up the leftovers to bring back to her hotel room and bid everyone a good night. her time would be much better spent texting or calling you than feeling sorry for herself at the table.
finally, she made it back to her room. without a second thought she was changing her clothes and crawling into bed, pulling out her phone and pulling up your contact. she had no hesitation in clicking on the ‘facetime’ button.
the phone rang several times, making her worried that you had already gone to bed for the night. but, on the 4th ring, the call went through and your face appeared on the screen. it was a gorgeous sight, she thought, seeing you there. you had taken off your makeup already, pulled your hair back, and tucked yourself into your shared bed. oh how she longed to be in that bed right now. you had instantly smiled when you saw kate’s face, making her heart ache for you.
“hi baby!” you chimed.
and that’s all she needed to hear. all of her worries, doubts, all of her anxiety was out the window now. she had just wanted an ounce of your attention all day, and at last, she could relax finally having it.
There's nothin' sweeter than my baby
I'd never want once from the cherry tree
“what did you say?” kate whispered, so shocked that she could hardly speak.
tonight was not a usual one. you had come home upset and stressed out, the past few days you’d been struggling with your mental health. it wasn’t often that you had difficult days, but when you did, kate was at your side and ready to help you in whatever way you needed. but tonight you felt inconsolable.
with kate becoming more popular in the media with her upcoming career, there had been a lot of press coverage. you actually hadn’t had an issue with it, you were thrilled for her to see that she was getting so much attention. but with the praise and positivity online also came the negative parts as well. you had seen a few articles and instagram posts concerning yours and kate’s relationship. seeing your name in bold headlines caught your attention. it was a bunch of nonsense, really, some random person online blabbering about nothing. they were clearly bothered by the fact that you and kate were very much in love, writing about how ‘kate could find someone much better’ or how she ‘should be with someone in her own league’. you tried to remind yourself of how foolish that was, kate loved you deeply and wouldn’t ever think of leaving you for someone else. but, with your history of self image issues and mental health, it was hard to believe it yourself.
“i said,” you were both sat on the couch, thighs barely touching. tears streamed down your face as you had your head turned away from kate. you had seen another one of those damned articles earlier and it seemed to be your breaking point, sending you into a fit of sorrow “i said i don’t know why you’re still with me”
the statement had caught her quite off guard. how could you possibly think such a thing? had kate done something? were you suddenly falling out of love? her heart was shattering as she sat there, desperately trying to figure out what had gotten you upset.
“baby,” her hand found its way to your cheek, gently guiding your head to turn back to her. your eyes were red and your lashes damp as you locked eyes with her “how could you say that? i love you more than anything in the world-i don’t understand”
“i just…i’ve been seeing all of those posts about us, kate” sobs racked your body and you hiccuped to try and catch your breathe “i see all the things they say about us and i can’t help but feel like you deserve more than me”
she had known about those posts for some time now, since she saw you inspecting one the other day. it broke her knowing you were indulging in all the ridiculous things people were saying about your relationship.
“hey hey hey” she wrapped an arm around you, forcing you to move closer to her “i don’t want anyone but you, got it? you have no idea how fucking in love with you i am”
a scoff fell from your lips briefly before you shook your head. you wanted to believe her, but your mind was so convinced otherwise “you’re just saying that”
“well allow me to enlighten you then?” she prodded, wiping the tears from under yours eyes. with reluctance, you nodded.
“i have never loved someone so much in my life” she began “i don’t even know where to start because there’s so much i love about you that it would take forever to say it all. i love the way you love me. how you take care of me all the time without me having to ask. how you make me breakfast in bed and how you brush my hair before we fall asleep. i love how you send me pictures of cute things you see in the store when you should really only be getting groceries. i love that you cry during movies even if it’s supposed to be happy because it shows how deeply you love things. and i love that you always think of people, even though that sometimes means you forget to take care of yourself. but i love that too, i love that i get to be the person that shows you how much love you deserve. that i get to sit here on nights like these and tell you how wonderful you are. because it’s true. honey, you are the best thing that has every happened to me and i’d be fucking crazy to let you go”
she let out a deep sigh, having lost her breath from her confession. if she had anymore air in her, she’d still be rambling on and on. the two of you stared at each other for a faint moment, her blue eyes gleaming back at you. your bottom lip quivered as another tear rolled down your cheek, although this time, it was a cry of joy.
“kate martin,” you muttered, almost speechless “i love you so so much”
she just chuckled softly and smiled at you. she guided you into a much needed hug, feeling your head tuck itself underneath her chin and your arms fall over her shoulders.
“i love you a thousand times more��
'Cause my baby's sweet as can be
She'd give me toothaches just from kissin' me
it was dark outside already, signifying the late hours of the night. you weren’t sure what time it was, definitely late enough that you should be asleep. but instead you and kate were both still up.
the orangey glow from your bedside lamp illuminated your bodies, creating silhouettes on the bedroom wall. kate was laid against the bed, back against the headboard and head tilted back. you were hovering over her as you straddled her waist with legs on either side of her figure. your head dipped down to her exposed neck, lips connecting lazily to her supple skin. eager hands roamed her shoulders and down the sides of her torso. her hands did the same, anxious to touch you wherever she could.
this was another instance in which kate unfortunately had to be away from home for an extended period of time. like every other time, she thought about returning home to you every second that she was gone. she hated not being able to touch you, to feel you, to know that you were right by her side. you had also been yearning for her arrival and hated her absence just as much. so when she was on her way home, she knew she would be having her way with you that night, no matter how late it might be. it may have been well into the early hours of this morning at this point, but the need to be with each other was a far greater need than sleep.
when she stepped foot in that house, she was already dropping her bags at the door and ridding of her shoes. sock clad feet marched quietly up the stairs as she began imagining kissing you for the first time in over a week. she pushed the door to your room open ever so gently, taking in your inviting presence. you had been fighting sleep, she could tell. your eyes peeking through low eyelids, hair messy from laying against the pillows, your lips turned in a sloppy smile. what a sight for sore eyes.
she was tempted to tell you to go to sleep, to get some rest that she knew you needed. but you were already sitting up and crawling over to her side of the bed where she now stood. one of her oversized tshirts hung loosely on your body, your lacey panties emerging from the bottom. before she had the chance to do so much as greet you, your hands were gripping her shirt and tugging her into you. soft lips molded into hers as you frantically kissed her. she took it as a sign that you needed her just as much as she needed you. so she let herself indulge, slithering into bed with you. articles of clothing were discarded to floor. your shirt thrown over your shoulder, kate’s sweatpants and top banished to a pile next to the bed.
now you were here, idly making out, taking each other in as much as possible. one might think you hadn’t seen one another in years by the way you both were acting. your bare chests were pressed together, creating arousing friction. kate’s fingers dug into the soft skin of your ass where her fingernails left small indents. she was breathing heavily and groaning as you left dark purple marks along her collarbone and the tops of her breasts, a reminder of your devotion. her hands pressed deeper into you, guiding your hips in a smooth rhythm of grinding against her lap. the room felt hot from the breathy moans and content sighs.
once you decided you were done marking the skin of kate’s chest, you made your way back to her lips. both of you were too tired to do anything other than this, just needing to be close to each other. not that you needed much else, having her lips on yours was enough to keep you satisfied. it was like your lips were meant for hers. they fit so perfectly together, moved against yours in the most delicious way.
kate let out another moan as she felt your lips grace hers. the sensation sent shivers through her veins. kissing you had to be the best feeling in the world to her. sometimes she felt sorry for the rest of the world, because what a sad life it would be to not know what it would be like to kiss you. and at the same time she felt so damn lucky that it was her, and only her, that got to know what this felt like.
When my time comes around
Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth
No grave can hold my body down…
“i hope you know that i’m absolutely head over heels for you,” she said next to you “you do know that, right?”
you hummed in response, nose scrunching as you looked at her. the amount of guests at your wedding must have been well into the one hundreds, but right here in this moment, it was just the two of you.
underneath a sky full stars was the makeshift dance floor of your wedding venue, marbled tiles beneath your feet. twinkling lights lit up the quaint garden of your backyard that you and kate both decided would be the perfect place to hold your reception. it was the middle of your first dance as a married couple and it was the most perfect moment of your life. your dress swayed behind you in the breeze, hair cascading around your face elegantly. kate looked even more beautiful than she normally did, if that was even possible. both of her hands rested on your waist and your arms looped around her neck as you danced across the floor slowly. your wedding playlist sounded in the distance and your families were watching you with teary eyes, but you and kate were only focused on each other.
“i do,” you replied “i hope you know that i’m also madly in love with you”
“i do” she had repeated like she did during her declaration of intent at the ceremony. you would never forget the look on her face when she’d said it for the first time “i’m never going to get tired of this”
“of what? our first dance?” you laughed, head falling back briefly “hate to break it to you, babe, but i think it’s gonna have to end at some point”
she laughed too, shaking her head. she pulled you in closer as her eyes wandered over the features of your face.
“no” she grinned “of looking at you”
your face was already turning a bright shade of pink, you could feel it as you smiled, but you didn’t mind one bit. you let your arms fall from around her neck as you heard the song of your dance come to an end.
your hands traveled up to take her face in your hands, something you have done often, a small action of your love. they directed her face to drop down to your level. you got onto the tips of your toes to meet her half way, kissing her passionately like your life depended on it. both of you smiled into the kiss, hearing everyone around you cheer as your dance concluded.
and, god, did it feel good to be loved like this.
…I'll crawl home to her
༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶
A/N: i feel like this started out so good, but then i kinda fucked it up at the end, but i hope you all like it !!
#wcbb#wcbb x reader#iowa wbb#kate martin x reader#kate martin#las vegas aces#wnba#wnba imagine#wnba x reader#rpf x reader#wlw#wlw imagine#lesbian#lesbian imagine#foreingersgod#i love kate martin
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Consider:
The Bats all have personalized ring tones for one another, but everyone has both a civilian and a Bat ring tone. The civilian ones are chaos, with everyone choosing whatever they want for their various family members and friends. BUT! Everyone has a single Bat tone that all other team members use for them.
The catch? Bruce forbid them from choosing their own Bat ring tones because he proposed this plan back in Dick's Robin days and he IMMEDIATELY picked "Toxic." The choice was not well received.
Bruce: Dick, I will not be alerted to the fact that you're in danger by some Britney Spears song.
Dick: First of all, it is not some Britney song, it is the Britney song. That song finally won her a Grammy.
Bruce: *sighs*
Dick: Second of all, it won't tell you when I'm in danger... it'll tell you when Robin is.
Bruce:
Bruce: I'm taking the Walkman out of the Robin kit.
Dick: *offended gasp*
(Yes, Dick is old enough for a Walkman. No, you will not change my mind. Yes, the Tim-and-on siblings all find that hilarious. Yes, Jason has to be VERY careful not to mention that he borrowed that Walkman for years because he was uncomfortable taking expensive electronics out and about with him.)
Anyway!
Dick then proposes a slew of other songs for the whole team to use, all of which are pop culture references, e.g. the Scrubs theme because they're not Superman and also they're a dysfunctional family of coworkers; the theme from the Godfather because "let's be honest, B, we are basically our own mafia"; Where is My Mind" because lol identity shenanigans, etc. The list is endless. Bruce spends weeks groaning every time one of his sons texts him.
Eventually, they compromise on the version of "The Entertainer" from The Sting because they're hiding in plain sight to enact a mission defending good people in a hard world. Bruce, Dick, and Alfred are all so pleased with this that they each take a different section of the song as their ring tone.
Then Barbara becomes Batgirl, so she gets a section... and then Jason becomes Robin and gets one, too... and then Tim, then Steph, and then Cass is taken in, and... uh oh. That's a lot of people for one song.
But it's family tradition! They can't stop now. That would be so unfair to the new kids, B!
So they start using alternate arrangements of the song. Bruce has mellowed slightly on the "no choosing your own" thing. As long as it's a version of "The Entertainer" (within reason) he'll allow it.
Tim retroactively changes his ring tone to a weird groove-ska arrangement Bart randomly sent him on YouTube because have you met Tim Drake? Of course he went for hilarious obscurity. (Bruce grits his teeth and approves it after lots of prompting from Dick and Alfred). Steph makes it her mission to find a weirder one (Bruce agrees because he's too tired to deal with accusations of favoritism).
Cass creates her own arrangement on theremin because apparently she knows how to play the theremin. No one is sure why. Upon inquiry, she just says, "spooky noises are fun," but does not elaborate further even when she's asked to do so. A Batgirl's gotta have her secrets—Babs taught her that.
When Jason starts working with his family again, he pays an aspiring music producer within Red Hood's ranks to create a minor key remix of the original Robin II ring tone. His siblings (minus Cass) are VERY jealous he has his own personalized arrangement. Dick, Tim, and Steph end up paying this goon who owns Garage Band to do ones for them, too. Duke does the same when he joins the team.
Meanwhile, in a fit of little brotherly pique, Damian steals Tim's original ring tone. He hopes to rub salt in the Robin replacement wounds. He fails! Tim finds it beyond funny that Damian's ring tone is groove-ska. So Damian quietly pays the amateur producer to make him one that's cooler than Tim's. He pays a ludicrous amount, though, because Steph paid for one cooler than Jason's and Tim paid for one cooler than Steph's.
(Dick wanted one cooler than Jason's too, but he had $63.02 in his bank account at the time and Bruce flat out refused to use the Batbudget on "a super cool ring tone that's better than Jay's." Eventually, Dick just paid himself for an averagely cool one. In installments.)
At this point, the Bats have single-handedly given this fledgling producer enough money to quit being a goon and start an indie music studio. His first customers are mostly superheroes from out of town who like what the Bats have going on and want their own team ring tones. Harley and Ivy get in on that action, too.
Then, as word spreads, every local crook/henchperson with a side band (there are many) flocks to the studio to have their stuff produced by one of their own. Gotham rogues suddenly have an unemployment problem, while the city finds itself with a flourishing indie music scene that puts Metropolis' to shame. The entire state of New Jersey is celebrating the dual victory.
Dick has never been so glad someone doesn't like Britney Spears' magnum opus.
#batfam#bruce wayne#dick grayson#jason todd#tim drake#damian wayne#stephanie brown#duke thomas#cassandra cain#barbara gordon#harley quinn#poison ivy#the bats are all secret goofs and I love them#actually some of them are openly goofs#cough dick grayson cough#he's living his best life#jacey writes
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Honestly I'm astounded that nobody has taken that name yet.
Do you dislike the look of vanilla Skyrim horses? Are you tired of riding some kind of Clydesdale/Belgian/Cob thing around fantasy Scandinavia for no clear reason? Do you want your beloved and loyal horse to stand out from the crowd as much as you do? Well great news, this mod covers all of those things.
Basically I made some significant edits to the horse model including a fuller, longer mane and tail, redone feathering, somewhat more realistic conformation, and entirely redone ears because at a certain point it was just easier to make new ones. None of the changes affect how the horse fits the vanilla rig so it still bends and moves without distorting weirdly. The textures are entirely painted from scratch and have new normals to go with them that are meant to give the horses a somewhat softer, more natural look that still fits with Skyrim's general vibe. I used references of primarily North Swedish and Dole horses, but also borrowed from the wider range of colors and patterns in Icelandics because I couldn't give up the pintos.
Current features:
Asymmetrical coats/markings, because I fully redid the UV while I was messing with the mesh (mostly because mirrored pinto horses in video games are the bane of my existence)
Five attractive but generic solid-coated textures that appear on most NPC horses in the world.
Unique texture for each purchasable player horse
Unique texture and model for Frost (he's now a mealy chestnut as his papers claim, and his conformation was adjusted to be more stallion-like with a neck crest and slightly heavier build. He also has. you know.)
Unique Shadowmere
Unique Karinda (this mod does NOT add Karinda into the game, but her texture should show up if you have CRF or another mod that does add her, as long as it doesn't alter her texture or base model)
Unique unsaddled stable horse in Markarth because uh, I just felt like it
Future plans (because I was in serious danger of never publishing this mod if I didn't stop there for the initial release):
Unique textures for some of the more popular modded followers that have their own horses (currently on the list are Lucien, Kaidan 2, and Khajiit Will Follow. the only reason these aren't out yet is that I'm bad at making patches but I will not let the machines defeat me)
Unique Hearthfire horses (the ones purchasable through the Steward)
A light horse variant for Beyond Skyrim - Bruma
More unique textures in general for specific horses (Cicero's cart horse, that one bandit horse in Whiterun, the rest of the unimplemented horses that some mods add back to the game)
MAYBE new stables for holds that don't have them with even more horse color options, but if I do add this it will be completely optional so as to keep the mod as compatible as possible.
Compatibility:
This mod should be compatible with just about everything, as long as it doesn't also change the colors or models of the horses.
Recommended mods:
Convenient Horses (it's popular for a reason, just overall a great mod)
Name Your Horse SE (does exactly what it says on the tin, a very simple mod that adds a lot to the horse-owning experience)
Simple Claim Horse (handy if you like the non-purchasable horse coats better, also lets you name horses you found instead of bought if you have NYH. or you can use it to cheat with wild abandon, I'm not gonna tell you how to live your life and with this mod neither is the city guard)
Huge thanks to SassiestAssassin, who has been an incredible help in navigating the learning curve of editing nifs (and is continuing to be a huge help with solving my inability to make patches), and also has a lot of fantastic mods you should check out.
Download:
Nexus Mods
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behind the screen 𐙚 sungchan smau #35
✧ camgirl reader x roommate sungchan
✧ synopsis. in which sungchan discovers his favorite camgirl also happens to be his roommate
✧ wc. 2222
✧. warnings. written and smau. smut. live streaming, handjob, edging, praise, slight crying, sub!sungchan
behind the screen masterlist
you leaned back against your headboard as you watched people join your stream, your fingers tapping anxiously against your thigh as you watched the screen. your face looked back at you, body clothed with a delicately laced bra. nervous was an understatement, this wasn’t how you’d imagined you’d reveal your identity in the past but you had no choice, now your name was out there realistically there was nothing to hide.
you smiled as sungchan sat down beside you, his hand landing on your thigh. neither of you were dressed, he lacked a shirt and you lacked everything that wasn’t your under garments. you both knew how this stream was ending but for the meantime you had to focus on the important matter that stood in front of you. somi.
“shall we begin?” you smiled sweetly at the camera, trying to calm your nerves. you felt sungchan hand curl around your own, his thumb gently rubbing over the back of it, he soothed you non verbally and you were incredibly grateful, you weren’t sure if you would’ve been able to do it without him.
“i definitely don’t look professional enough to be discussing something so important”
“you look beautiful” sungchan lifted your hand to his lips and kissed the back of it gently, he let his lips linger there for a moment before he placed it back down into your lap “i’d listen to anything you’d say whilst you’re dressed like that, like okay ma’am” his eyes dropped down to where your bra cupped your breasts tightly, you rolled your eyes, laughing a little before focusing on the stream in front of you.
“i don’t really want to go into all of it but i also don’t want to sit and allow someone to create a false image of me online. somi seems like she’s a little mad and honestly i’m not even sure what she’s that mad over, i’ve spent the last few months attempting to ignore all of her pointless jabs and unnecessary comments, but it’s harder to do that when she does it so publically. granted, my real name is y/n y/l/n and i did used to have a job under her fathers company but that’s about the only true thing she wrote in her statement. as far as i know i haven’t manipulated anyone especially sungchan”
“she’s an ungrateful bitch” you shook your head, pressing your lips together as you attempted to stop yourself from laughing at sungchan’s sudden comment.
“nothing ever happened between me and sungchan till a few weeks ago and i think that’s normal? at least to me it feels normal for friendships to change over time, especially if you see the person everyday. sungchan was the man who joined me on stream a few weeks ago too and he was the man who won the competition to meet me and that was honestly the most insane thing that had ever happened to be honest someone should have recorded my reaction to opening the door and seeing him standing there” you were rambling and sungchan found it cute, he found it even cuter that your rambling was about him.
“anyway, regarding the other person mentioned, jake, most of you know him due to his streams and before i met jake i had a lot of respect for him but once we met that all just fell down the drain. i didn’t want to have sex with jake and he seemed to not like that, the moment i told him i wasn’t interested he became harsh towards me, if anything he seemed bitter so in the end i just began to ignore him because i didn’t want to deal with someone like that” sungchan squeezed your hand again, sitting silently as he listened to you talk.
“i lost my job which i kind of expected to happen to be honest but it’s whatever, i have streaming which i really enjoy and i have sungchan who i also really enjoy so i think i won here” sungchan laughed again.
“i think i won” you turned your head to look at him, smiling brightly up at him as he grabbed your jaw with his hand, you smiled wider as he kissed you.
“i think that’s all i have to say” sungchan nodded, going to pull away before you pushed your fingers into his hair “now please fuck me”
“straight away?” he laughed, kissing you again. your hands found their way onto his chest before you pushed him away and smiled.
“you’re right, there was something i wanted to do”
“oh?” you turned back to the stream and smiled
“i want to try something new” your fingers trailed over the skin of his abs, nails lightly digging into them. you looked back at him, pressing an open mouthed kiss against his shoulder “do you wanna play with me channie?” you kissed his skin again, leaning up a little as you nipped at the skin under his ear “i promise i’ll be good to you”. the deep breath sungchan let out told you everything you needed to know, of course he’d let you do what you wanted to him. in his mind, you didn’t even have to ask.
“anything you want baby” he breathed out and you smiled, shifting your position on the bed so you were sitting on your knees next to him. the camera captured the scene perfectly, he sat with his legs out and his back against your headboard, his briefs being the only thing on his body as you knelt next to him, your undergarments clinging to your skin as you smiled sweetly to him and traced the lines of his abs with your nails.
you trailed them further down his skin, pressing the tips of your fingers under his briefs before pulling them out. sungchan watched you carefully, unsure of what you were planning to do but he let you do it, sitting back almost obediently as you touched him. his body shivered as he felt your nails rake over his nipple, gulping whilst looking down at you. the innocent smile on your face only made things harder for him.
you leaned forward and kissed at his skin, your parted lips allowing your saliva to leave a wet trail behind you as you moved along his chest. it felt hot against his skin yet he shivered again, unable to keep himself still at the feeling of you against him. sungchan gasped when he felt your tongue flick over his nipple, your hand clawing its way down his body and into his briefs one more, this time releasing his cock from their restraints and wrapping your hand around it. you pumped him slowly, gently running your thumb over his tip before bringing your hand back down to the base. sungchan’s head fell back against the headboard, his thighs tensed as your tongue flicked over his nipple again. he never would’ve pictured himself in such a vulnerable position but he loved every second of it, this side of you was so incredibly hot to him.
sungchan sighed as he felt your hand squeeze the base of his cock, you pressed one last kiss to his skin before lifting your head and looking down at his cock. he throbbed in your hand, groaning when you squeezed him again.
“your cock is so big, channie” there was a slight moan in your voice as you spoke to him, it caused sungchan to groan again “almost too big for my hand” he let out a deep, shaky breath, barely being able to listen to the crude words you were saying to him as you jerked him off. the way you spoke to him and the way you touched him overwhelmed sungchan immensely. he struggled to hold himself together as he felt his orgasm approaching far too fast.
yet, once he announced he was close, all of the feelings were stolen away from him and his senses were replaced by the sound of you laughing sweetly whilst looking up at him. he felt speechless, his mouth going dry when you placed your hand around his cock again, only this time your hand moved faster and your eyes stayed on his. his parted lips let out a sweet whine and his eyes stayed open as he looked down at you. sungchan felt as if he was a complete wreck, unable to keep himself together as you let go of his cock again. you were edging him.
“baby” he moaned out, hissing as you grabbed his cock again. your eyes trailed over the stream that was active on your laptop, his eyes shined under the light of the screen as he looked at you through it. you admired the comments, how envious they were of the boy sat next to you and how incredibly hot it was to watch you edge him the way hyou were.
“they love it, channie” he whimpered again as you squeezed his throbbing cock, it was slick with precum by now, it made it easy for you to drag your hand up and down it with ease, a wet sound echoing throughout the room with each pump of your hand.
when you looked back at him you could see the weakness in his eyes, a glossy layer covered them as he let out a shaky breath. sungchan was not prepared to have you act this way toward him, yet he had no time to process it as your hand moved on his cock again. each time you grabbed his cock it took less time for you to let go again, the constant teasing had his legs shaking and his stomach tensing. he could barely handle it, his body growing weaker with each quick pump of your hand. what drove him more insane was the little giggles you let out every time you let go of him, the fact you were so clearly enjoying it so much ruined him.
“are you going to let me cum?” sungchan’s voice was broken, it thrilled you to hear him so ruined and weak because of you, tears beginning to fill up in his eyes.
“i don’t know, do you deserve it?” sungchan nodded instantly, his lips beginning to swell due to him biting them endlessly. you hummed, smiling again before turning your head to the stream “does he deserve it? i don’t think he does” you shook your head, faking an innocent smile as you read the comments.
you leaned your head against sungchan’s shoulder, hand still wrapped tightly around his cock “seems like they feel bad for you channie” you turned your head, kissing his shoulder before looking up at him “it’s your lucky day” your hand sped up on his cock again, you watched him as a single tear slipped out his eye and fell down his flushed cheek. cooing at him, you smiled and kissed it away, not stopping your hand that was driving him over the edge of insanity.
“i can’t” he cursed after speaking, his head falling back against the headboard once against as he bucked his hips up into your hand, barely hanging on as you brought him closer. there was a fire burning inside of sungchan’s stomach, his skin burned as his orgasm threatened to break him.
“you can do it baby, i know you can” you kissed his skin again, bringing your other hand up to lace through the messy strands of his hair, soothing him as he let his orgasm take over. sungchan wasn’t sure how long you were edging him for but with the intensity of his orgasm, it felt like forever. his body grew slack, his abs tensing as his cum splurted all over them.
“you done so well for me channie” you praised him, your fingers still soothing him as you helped him through his orgasm, only stopping your hand once you knew he had nothing left in him. you giggled again at hi fucked out state, in awe of how pretty he looked on the verge of crying.
sungchan didn’t expect you to your end your stream after that, you hid your goodbyes, promising to go live again that week as an extra treat for your views. once it was off and your laptop had closed you settled next to him with a cloth, gently wiping the cum off of his body whilst kissing his skin. sungchan, in his own mind, was not submissive, but if you were going to take care of him like this every time he was then he was sure he was going to change his mind.
“how are you feeling?” he looked down at you, smiling in a daze at your question.
“incredible, you?” you giggled at his sleepy words, cuddling into his side and looking at his face.
“i feel great channie” he smiled before stopping, his fingers gently touching your cheek. there was a comfortable silence between the two of you but it also felt as if there were unspoken words floating in the air. you stayed like that for a while, just watching each other as the moonlight washed over your skin from your window, it was only when you broke your silence that sungchan let out what he wanted to say.
“are you oka-?”
“i love you”.
behind the screen tag list
tag list. @midmourn @svnghan @strayhowls @minnieslover @shortnstupid @palchokitty @ilovechanhee e @hikict @wccycc @revehosh @teddywook @hoonieq @glaieuls @kvstjwonnie @starrypen @thinkabt-vivi @kyusqult @nanascupid @professsionalsimp @beomgri @xenkimmie @dinosluver @jaehmarks @hellonikitty @wolfiecaro @snoopyana @rosesfortaro @zhangyixingxing1 @hrts4tyun @forrds @mamathefifth @wonbinkisser @alwayswook @boogyu @haohoonz @wheatrice e @cvpidxo @soobsfairy444 @nadrs @wonbinfiles @tsumusakusa @chichiuu @bbgmingyu @outrologist @lilriswife4life @https-yeonjun @emoseob @riizenextdoor @h3lluh @shiannprincess101 @ioveslgn @iselltulips @w0nslvr r @vernonburger r @boopdidoo @planethyuka @joshuawifey @dearmyouth @bludzk1llzyuzu @andb1ue @reenfluffmarshmallow @jnkthy @luh @au-ghosttype e
#✧ melody posts#✧ behind the screen#riize smut#riize smau#riize sungchan smut#riize sungchan smau#sungchan smut#sungchan smau
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Broken - Chapter 1
Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader
Summary:
A year has passed since Joel and Ellie have returned to Jackson when he finds you on patrol, half frozen and half burning up. Jackson takes you in and nurses you back to health, welcoming you as the newest member of their community. The more time passes, Joel realizes that you and him have more in common than he likes... Until one day, everything changes and you get a gift that he'll never get.
Word Count: 3964 words
Warnings: Cursing, near death experience, mention of blood, insomnia.
Chapter 1 - A Brush With Death
Joel didn't know there could be so many types of snow. Texas didn't get all that much of it, at least not where he lived. He'd seen his fair share of the white stuff when he lived in Boston, but somehow, snow is different out here in Jackson. It could have been just an illusion, that it had only seemed different because Boston was different, crowded and dirty and falling apart at the seams, whereas Jackson is open, wide and free and clean.
Whatever it is, snow feels different here. Today, the flakes are big and heavy, a lot more like rain but not yet quite like sleet. They're coming down in chunks, flakes stuck together in tiny little icy clumps that fall to the ground in quiet and wet, prickling thumps. It's not as enjoyable as the soft and powdery kind that came down during his patrol yesterday. The shreds of ice prick his skin as they get blown across his face where his bandana doesn't reach. He rubs a gloved hand over the slither of exposed skin, but it remains itchy, irritated by its icy attackers.
Joel grunts and squints through the white flurry. "Can't see a damn thing in this damn weather," he grumbles, but carries on regardless. His horse lazily trots through the snow. Joel can't help but wonder what the animal thinks about this weather. Probably having as much fun as I am, he thinks and runs his glove over his eyes again. Some snowflakes got caught in his eyelashes. He feels the icy flakes melt on his eyeballs as he rubs the glove back and forth and shudders. Not a pleasant sensation.
He trudges through the snow for a few more minutes, but it doesn't let up. If anything, it looks like it's getting worse, more and more flakes fluttering through the air until visibility drops below 20 feet. "Alright, that's enough." His voice comes out in puffs of hot air. Joel flicks his tongue and softly tugs on the left rein. His horse immediately obeys. They do a 180, careful not to slip off the road. There's no point in staying out here in weather like this. Not if I can't goddamn see, he thinks. Once they're turned around, things are a little better. With the wind on his back, the brim of his head provides enough protection from the flakes and they're no longer blowing straight into his eyes.
15 minutes later, he's made it about half-way back to Jackson. The snow is coming down so heavy and quick that his horse's tracks are nearly covered again, the sheet of white almost seeming as undisturbed as before. Joel scans his surroundings as they trot back, peering across the black and white landscape in search of anything out of the ordinary, but he finds nothing. Now that his sight is undisturbed, the scenery is almost hypnotizing. With the wind on his back, the soft falling of the heavy flakes mixes into a soothing background noise. He notices his eye-lids getting heavy, straining to stay open as they run over white and more white, an endless canvas of the same coated trees and bushes.
It's no wonder then that he almost misses the set of tracks that cross his own in the snow, slurry and less precise than his horse's hoofmarks on the ground. It feels like a trick of his eyes at first, but Joel's instincts have had too many years of training. He perks up and flicks his tongue again, softly tugging on the reins so his four-legged companion stills. Joel peers down at the ground, inspecting the tracks. They're fresher than his own; the flakes didn't have enough time to fill the gaps on the snowy surface yet.
He slides the rifle off his shoulder as his eyes follow the tracks to the bushes on his left. Awaiting an attack, his gloved finger has already wandered down to the trigger, but he doesn't shoot right away. "What in the...?" His question hangs in the air along with little clouds of hot breath. What the hell am I lookin' at?
It's hard to make out at first. Animal? It's big and lumpy, but the contortions don't fit anything he's ever seen. Its coat is puffy and bloated and white, blending in it with its surroundings almost too easily. Joel's eyes travel over the unfamiliar creature until he suddenly realizes what he's looking at. "Aw, shit!" The curse comes out in a hiss as he slides off his horse.
What he thought to be an animal at first is nothing less than a human. He approaches the lump on the ground with a raised rifle, pointed at what he now makes out to be the head. This could be a trap, a voice inside him thinks, but something tells him it's not. It's nothing more than a gut feeling, but he still approaches the figure carefully.
"Hey." The person on the ground doesn't respond, doesn't even stir. "Hey," he repeats, this time a little louder. He nudges his foot against what he judges to be a leg, but again, there is no response. His gut and brain discuss for a moment before he leans down. In one swift motion, he's removed one of his gloves and shoved his hand into the fur that encircles the head. Immediately, he can tell that his gut was right. Heat simmers below the person's coat like a hot furnace. His cold fingers run over the naked skin until he finds the spot just below the chin.
A breath of relief leaves him when he feels a pulse softly thrumming against his fingertips, but it's weak. Carefully, he lifts the head and gently turns it so he can look at the face. It belongs to a woman, pale and ashen, tinging on blue. It's the look of someone who has no time to waste. "Alright," he mutters and hoists his rifle again before he places one arm under the woman's torso, his other wrapping around it firmly from above. "C'mere." He grunts as he attempts to lift her body off of the ground. She can't weigh much, but the angle is awkward and his shoes don't have much tract in the snow.
It takes him a couple of tries, but eventually, he manages to heave the limp body across his saddle. Once it stays up, he awkwardly climbs into the settle behind the woman. Her legs are dangling off to one side, her arms and head to the other. It's not ideal, but it'll have to do. "C'mon!" He kicks his horse's sides and they dash off, back towards Jackson, back to where there's doctors and medicine. He just hopes it's not too late.
You come to with a gasp, eyes flying open as your torso shoots upwards. Your first few moments of consciousness are overwhelming, a complete chaos of blurry vision, a dizziness that's threatening to push you over and the drumming of your own pulse in your ears, loud and deafening over the frequent beeping noises in the background. Your fingers dig into the material of the surface beneath you, a frantic search of something familiar, something that'll tell you where you are, something to steady you.
Before you've had any time to adjust, something's touching your shoulder, followed by a pressure that's pushing you backwards. You panic and grasp at the things that are forcing you down before realizing they are hands, but the realization doesn't slow your panic, it only fuels it. You flail, fighting against your attacker with flying limbs, scratching and screaming and putting everything in it that you've got. There's a sharp pull in the crook of your right arm, but you don't relent, determined to fight off your assailant.
Despite your strenuous attempt, you lose the fight and fall backwards. As your head slams backwards, your world suddenly regains focus, as if someone turned up the sharpening setting in one swift go. The dizziness remains, but despite your blood still rushing in your ears, you can also hear a voice.
"It's okay! You're okay! You're safe!"
You blink rapidly a few times. Your eyes are swimming in and out of focus before they settle on the person in front of you. It's a man dressed in faded blue scrubs. The arms that are pinning you down are his arms, but despite the threatening gesture, his face is full of concern, not threat. You slowly take in your surroundings as you catch your breath. You appear to be in a hospital room of sorts. It's got all the equipment that comes with the territory, beeping machines and all, which you realize are the source of the frantic beeping you heard just seconds ago; their rhythm gradually slowing as your breathing becomes more steady.
The man holding you down releases his grip on your shoulders and moves around your bed to your other side. You follow his movements closely and jerk back when he reaches for your right arm. In response, he takes a step back, hands raised.
"I just wanna help. Can I do that?" He points to your arm when you don't respond. Your eyes briefly flit down to follow his finger. There's blood leaking out of the crook of your arm; the bloody needle of an IV dangling on your bed's railing not far off. Must have pulled it out when I was panicking. It's your first coherent thought since coming to.
You give a court nod and he resumes his work immediately, tending to your wound with concentration. While he works, your eyes work over the room again.
"Where am I?" Your voice comes out rusted and croaky. How long has it been since I've been out?, you wonder and try to think back to the last thing you remember, but you come up blank.
"You're safe," the nurse responds. He's wrapped your arm up in a neat bandage - clean, you notice - and moves over to a cabinet where he retrieves a freshly packed IV needle. "Can I?" He nods at your left arm and you hum in agreement. You watch him insert the needle into your skin before you speak again.
"That's not what I asked." He finishes up his work by attaching the lines of your IV bag to your new access point, checking for air bubbles and tangles, then places his hands on your hand railing. His eyes find yours. "Look, you're safe, and that's all that matters right now." You want to interrupt him, but he holds a finger up. "No, just wait. Someone will be by to explain everything shortly. I'm not at liberty to say. But I promise," he leans in closer, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. "I promise, you're safe here. Okay?"
It takes a moment, but you nod and sink back into your pillow. Safe my ass, you think. When's the last time that anywhere was really safe? But what choice do you have? Your body is in no shape to fight, let alone to flee. Besides, this hospital bed is the most comfortable thing you've laid on in months. Might as well enjoy it while you can. Who knows what's waiting for you.
According to the clock on the wall, half an hour passes before the door to your room opens again. This time, it's not the male nurse but a woman that enters. She carries herself with the confidence of someone who's word counts. You prop yourself up as she approaches you, stopping a few feet away with crossed arms.
Neither of you speak for a moment. You eye each other, seizing the other woman up, a silent first introduction that seems to go well when she drops her arms to her sides and her body language switches from closed off to more open. Still, you're the first one to speak.
"You in charge?"
"One of the people in charge, yes."
"One of them?"
"There's a council, elected by the town's members." She seems to hesitate but then crosses the remaining distance between you two before holding a hand out.
"I'm Maria. It's nice to finally meet you." You can't help but raise an eyebrow, yet shake her hand anyway.
"Finally? You heard of me?"
"Oh, we heard plenty! Can I?" She nods at the open space on your bed in front of you and takes a seat when you gesture for her to sit down. "You were quite the talk of the town, the way you arrived. On the brink of death." She smiles at you and, to your surprise, it looks genuine. "Happy you pulled through."
There's an uncomfortable silence where you don't know what to say. You fiddle with the blanket between your fingers as quiet settles over you two.
When Maria reaches out to lay a hand on yours, you instinctually flinch back, but then allow the touch. You see a hint of sadness fluttering across her face, but she quickly hides it behind a sympathetic smile. "I don't know what you've been through, but it can't have been pretty. We're willing to offer you a place to stay, a new home if you want it, but we got rules."
A place to stay? A home?
What's the cost? you think, but don't say the question out loud. "Most of all, you've got to be willing to put in the work. We all chip in here," Maria says as if she overheard your thoughts. "Do you think that's something for you?" She gives you a moment to think about it. A smile spreads across her face when you finally nod.
"Great. Now relax, regain your strength. We'll figure everything out over the next couple of days. I'll come by and introduce you to some people so we can figure out where to place you, okay?" Maria slides off your bed and heads for the door. You can see her wringing her hands in anticipation, a mixture of concern and gladness on her face when she turns around to you once more. "You're safe here. You don't have to worry anymore."
She gives you one last smile and then she's out the door. Yeah right, you think. We'll see about that.
There's 57 cracks in the ceiling. You know this because you've counted them yourself, every single night since this house was first appointed to you. Despite the comfortable - clean, one might add -bed, the roof over your head, hell, despite the damn blackout-curtains, you can't find any sleep.
Your insomnia isn't new. The last good night's rest you've had was probably 22 years ago, before all hell broke loose and the world turned into the shithole it is today. You don't remember a day since where you didn't go to bed hungry or worried for your safety. To be fair, it was better when you had her. Despite worrying for two, it was better when she was there, her tiny body curled up against yours-
You stop the thought when the familiar hole aches in your chest. You try not to think about it, about her, because it always ends up hurting, the pain chipping away at the sides of the hole and making it larger with every relived memory.
"Fuck." You whisper, but it's almost as loud as a shout in the dead-quiet of the house. An entire house for a single person. It seems bizarre to you after having lived in tight quarters for so long, presumptuous even. It feels wrong. And lonely, a small voice chirps in the back of your head, but you swat it away like a fly.
"Alright, enough." There's no point in staying in bed any longer. Dawn is approaching outside, the faintest whisper of light slowly creeping over the horizon and casting long shadows across your bedroom. You roll out of bed and slip on your shoes, never having taken off yesterday's clothes. They provided you with an entire new wardrobe when they granted you residence, PJ's included and all, but old habits die hard.
You make your way downstairs where you brew yourself a quick cup of coffee. Out of all the amenities your new home comes with, this one just might be your favorite perk. Where your adrenaline betrays you during the day, you finally get to rely on caffeine again instead. It's one of the small pleasures you grant yourself every now and then, when a night has been particularly rough.
You lean against the kitchen counter in the semi-dark as you drink your coffee, savoring every sip. The world doesn't seem quite so bad in these moments, in the morning quiet with a steaming cup between your hands and the warm liquid running down your throat, warming you from the inside out and filling your body with fresh life force.
It's then that you hear two mumbled voices outside. Fuck. You mouth the word, cursing the fact that you left your gun upstairs. Carefully, you set your cup down and then open the top drawer next to you, taking out a large chopping knife.
Knife in hand and slowly, so as not to make any sound, you tip-toe towards your front door while keeping your back against the wall. You hear the voices growing louder through the thick glass panels that frame the entrance of your house.
"Seriously, Tommy, why me? Just 'cause I brought her in? It's not like we got a special connection or somethin'."
"Then you'll make one! It's not that hard."
You manage to peer out of one of the glass panels and realize with some relief that it's Tommy Miller, Maria's husband, and Joel Miller, his brother.
The fuck they want here so early in the morning?
"Look. When you and Ellie got here, you were all fidgety for the first few months, and I don't blame you with what you've been through. Hell, some nights even I don't sleep thinking about all we got to lose here." You watch as Tommy and Joel climb the front steps of your porch. "But you saw what this place is. What it means, what it stands for. We got something good going here, Joel. I know you can see that. I just want you to help her see that too."
There's a moment of silence between the brothers while they're staring each other down. "Fine." Joel sounds exasperated. "But why me?" An expression takes form on Tommy's face that you can only describe as 'knowing'. You don't like it. "Because," he starts and raises a hand to knock on your door. "You and her, you got the same kind of twitchy."
Before he can bring his fist down on the cold wood, you open the door in one swift motion.
"Mornin', boys."
They turn to you with a stunned look on their faces. Tommy in particular looks a bit strained, obviously wondering how much you heard.
"Saw y'all walking up on my porch when I came through the hallway," you offer in explanation and watch in amusement as relief washes over the younger brother's face. "What's got you comin' up here so early in the morning?"
"Ah." Tommy smiles broadly and slaps his older brother on the back. "Jeff got sick and Joel here needs a replacement buddy for his rounds. Thought maybe you could fill in for him, seeing as how we haven't found a job for you yet." He smiles at you expectantly, but his smile wavers a little the longer you let him wait for a response.
"Fine," you eventually say, mimicking Joel's tone from earlier. "Lemme' just get my jacket."
The first few rays of sunshine trickle over the land as you ride out of Jackson. You keep a steady, albeit not hasty pace next to each other. Despite what you overheard, Joel doesn't make any attempts of forming any kind of connection. You just ride together in silence, keeping a lookout for anything out of place. You're a little too proud to admit it, but the fresh, cold air feels really good on your skin. You make a mental note not to thank Tommy for this little set-up. Twitchy my ass, you think. What's it to him anyway?
The first half of your morning patrol passes by uneventfully. Joel leads you to what you can only assume was a camping site back in the day where he wipes some snow off of a picnic table and pours steaming hot coffee out of a thermos flask into two cups; one for him, one for you. Despite your morning coffee, you gladly accept the little tin cup and sip on the hot liquid.
You both drink your coffee in silence. You don't mind it, in fact, you almost embrace it. Everyone else you come across in Jackson is just so happy all the time, so open and welcoming and smiling that it makes you sick. Joel's stoic silence, in comparison, is refreshing.
"So, you don't talk very much, do you." You blow on your coffee as you watch his face. He turns to you and his eyes lock onto yours where they remain for a moment. "Not really, no," he says finally. "You mind that?"
You can't help but scoff. "God, no. It's refreshing, really. Everyone else is just so... chipper, like, all the time. It's maddening." You wrinkle your nose in disgust and hear a deep chuckle coming from Joel's chest. "That they are."
When you've both finished your coffee, you get back on your horses to start on the remaining half of your patrol. It starts snowing softly, a few flakes here and there, and for a moment, you almost feel something resembling peace.
"Aren't you supposed to be bonding with me?" you quickly say before the feeling can take root. Joel looks over at you. "You heard that, hu?" "Sure did." Now it's Joel's turn to scoff. "Then you heard it was Tommy's idea, not mine."
You purse your lips but nod, your pursed lips eventually growing into a smile. "I can work with that." It's the last words you speak while the two of you control the perimeter. Even though you're not looking, you can tell Joel's smiling out of the corner of your eye.
Back at the stables, you help take the saddles off of your horses and brush them down. You're on your way to leave when you hear Joel behind you. "Y'know, this place really is safe." You don't turn around, but have stopped walking, an indicator that you're listening. "Didn't believe it m'self when I got here, but Tommy's right. They got a good thing goin' here."
"They?" You've turned around after all. Your eyes seek out his. "Thought you're a member of Jackson?"
A dry smile plays around Joel's lips. He turns from you to pick up one of his horse's behind legs. "Sure am. 'S just they're better than I am, is all," he says as he scrapes the bottom of the hoof.
You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. The silence stretches between you two and it becomes clear that he's said all there is to say. "Alright." You turn and start your walk home, back to your house that's too big for just one person, but is one of the few places where people will leave you alone. Safe or not safe, it's the only place you've got to go to.
Joel straightens as you leave the stables. He watches as you make your way across the snowy grounds, away from the people and back towards the residential area. He watches and wonders what your story is before returning to the task at hand. None of my business, he tells himself and resumes his work.
Series Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist
Feedback is always appreciated! If you have any requests, feel free to send them my way. I'm always happy to practice my writing! :)
Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters!
#joel miller#joel tlou#tlou joel#joel the last of us#the last of us#the last of us hbo#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fanfic#tlou fanfiction#tlou fanfic#tlou fic#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us fanfic#the last of us fic#ellie williams#ellie tlou#ellie the last of us#joel and ellie#ellie and joel
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In Defense of Shoko in 261
to be so honest, i’m really doing my best not to come off angry while talking about this. but to me this conversation is not just about shoko, but about the way women are treated in media, and especially in shounen manga in general.
people are upset about the way shoko reacted, or rather didn’t react, to yuuta’s plan because it seemed too unemotional and uncaring. if she had shown emotion or protested, people would still be upset because she would be seen as unable to do the necessary thing in a time of crisis due to her feminine emotions or whatever.
this is the dilemma of not just female characters, but real life women. there’s never a right reaction.
additionally i feel that some of the things being said about her are expecting her to only exist as support for gojo, and not as her own character, which i see way too often with female characters in shounen manga.
in any case, i stand by my cancelled wife, and here’s my defense of her. spoilers below the cut.
Since when has Shoko ever been outwardly emotional like that?
if shoko is upset about yuuta using gojo’s body as a weapon, there is just no way she would outwardly object or show any signs that she’s upset. that’s not who she is and she’s shown that. there have been several times where she’s not displayed the emotion one would expect from her, so why would that change now?
when shoko sees geto, one of her closest friends, if not her closest, for the first time after finding out that he massacred an entire village, you would expect her to be feeling a slew of emotions. maybe confusion, maybe anger, maybe hurt, maybe betrayal. maybe even concern for her friend.
but shoko acts like it’s no big deal at all. she’s just seeing her close friend on a regular day. because she’s not the type to get outwardly emotional. whatever she’s feeling right now is kept somewhere else entirely, far away from the surface.
additionally, in the scene where everyone got frustrated that gojo didn’t react about nanami, we have this from shoko.
talking about geto. not reacting. guys shoko is just not a reactive person like that, and that’s totally fine. a lot of people are like this (including myself but thats not the point)
but that doesn’t mean the emotions don’t exist, or that shoko has no way of reacting or coping or showing that she’s going through anything at all. one way is through smoking.
smoking is something shoko picks up again before the shibuya incident, when the entire jujutsu world is growing more stressed with the increased presence of special grades, particularly the disaster curses, the incident at the goodwill event…and at shibuya, the situation was very high stress, yet she keeps a cool demeanour. the only sign that she’s upset at all is that every time she’s shown, she’s smoking.
the only times we’ve seen shoko’s feelings, it’s been completely internal. the most notable being this scene:
this is the most emotional we’ve ever seen shoko, and if you’ll notice, she’s completely alone.
shoko keeps her feelings well hidden from everyone, so it’d be completely against her character to outwardly show if she was upset by yuuta’s plan.
Since when has Shoko shied away from questionable medical/jujutsu practices?
shoko was eager to dissect yuuji after he “died” like it was some sort of science project and not a human being…please note im saying this as a completely neutral statement, this is not to say whether shoko is a good or bad person, just that she is and how she is.
sure, it’s a bit questionable that she’s looking at a dead teenager on her table and wondering what information she can get out of him, but at the same time, there could be useful information in yuuji’s biology that shows what makes him a successful vessel, at least as far as shoko is aware. useful knowledge that could be used to find another suitable vessel to continue killing sukuna’s power, one finger at a time.
she even says to gojo “who do you think i am?” when he tells her to make her examination of yuuji worth it, implying that this is a trait that those around her are aware of.
she’s practical and methodical, logically thinking rather than emotionally thinking, but most importantly, she’s not the type to display her feelings.
she’s exactly the type to understand the reasoning behind yuuta’s plan and accept it as a logical last ditch effort, and she’s also the type to store her true feelings about it away to process over a cigarette (or several) at a more convenient time. asking her to do anything else would be asking her to change as a character.
i hope this doesn’t come across as me being unsympathetic to gojo’s dehumanization and being turned into a weapon, i think it’s upsetting for sure (but i respect the narrative choice, i think it’s an interesting way to bring out themes). mostly, i think that shoko, both by the narrative and by the fandom, is only perceived in geto & gojo’s shadow, and i wanted to draw attention to her as a person.
i’m sick of reading the “shoko’s a cold-hearted traitor” comments on different platforms bc i think it’s not true, and i think asking her to act differently removes her autonomy as a character and forces her to be nothing but a supporting role to gojo, rather than her own character.
hopefully this makes some sense dkskld
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Here’s a translation of what Bagi said at the end of her stream.
Bagi: I really wanted to say that QSMP was an opportunity I’ve never had before in my life. Because I impeded myself from taking those opportunities, in the sense of communicating with other creators from countries. When I was a kid I learned and practiced a little bit of English but I never practiced after leaving school because I never had the opportunity and I ended up accepting that I’d never go back to speaking in English because I didn’t practice and if I needed to do it then I’d be shit because I wouldn’t be able to communicate. So when Cellbit spoke to me saying, “Look we really want you to participate in QSMP with us.” I said, “Dude, my communication with people from other countries is going to be very difficult.” And there he said, “You don’t need to worry the translator works really well.” And honestly the translator worked really well because it allowed me to not just communicate with people from various countries, in my own native language, but also allowed me to learn words & terms in other languages.
And I think that I learned a lot culturally speaking because various people from various countries could share their cultures. Which to me is something that is more valuable than anything else. We consume a lot from our own culture and what we see on TV but actually co existing with people from different cultures every day for various hours a day was very cool for learning many new things. I think that QSMP was an experience that wasn’t just very fun but for me, as a player, was an experience that changed my life. Because now I have friends from various parts of the world, I have various people who I met personally who I love, and various more that I still want to meet and be able to do many things together. We lived many cool moments and even if they were characters we were playing, as if they were small scripts we were playing, even then we still lived emotions that were very real. We lived through suffering together, happiness together, and much more. We shared many cool emotions together and so that created a great relationship between the content creators.
From getting along and starting to directly interact on the server to, for instance, people accompanying me late nights while I dug a whole, that refers to the players as much as it does to the administrators as well who’d stay up late digging the hole and updating twitter, doing many things with me. When I only wanted to log on the server, do Lucky Ducks, dig my whole, there was always people to participate and do things with me. And so it was always a lot of fun and it was always people from various places. (…) Because I already knew Cellbit and Felps for a long time but getting close to Pac and Mike was very crazy and it was very fun. The entire experience was very fun. And that’s it.
I think what I’m most grateful for about the QSMP was all the people that connected us. All the people who participated and permitted us to create genuine connections during the game. Because it’s only a game but at the same time everyone who is participating are real people with real feelings who share real things, you know? So it was very cool. I met many fun people who were very cool to spend all this time with. Not just the creators but the team. Everyone. So it was very cool. Very cool.
And I think that the most important thing of all is that you live through experiences in your life with various people and experiences come and go but the mark you leave on people and the mark they leave on your life is permanent. And so experiences come and go, people come and go, but the mark people leave is permanent. The mark that all these creators, all the team, all the actors of QSMP as well, of the eggs, of the characters, left a permanent mark on me that I’ll never forget because it was very cool. I hope still to find the creators, live many fun things with them still, and that’s it. I think I’ve participated in many cool things, I’ve done many cool things in my career and QSMP definitely was one of them. I have many good memories created with the server and people who participated with me. It was very very very fun.
(Bagi also said she wants to have a chat with Elena one day to discuss what she said about the Rebels with Walter Bob there as well)
if i made any typos no i didnt goodbye.
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A flower blossoms for its own joy: How will you bloom?
A PAC about your blooming moment and how you will get there.
Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Open your eyes and choose the photo that speaks to you.
3 piles left to right.
This is for entertainment purposes only, take what resonates. Feel free to check other piles if it doesn't resonate :)))
Pile 1
I'm seeing that we have some shy people here or people who put a lot of thought before saying something in the sense that they don't want to provoke someone. The message here is to be little unapologetic about certain things. You don't have to be worried about how others perceive you. "Say the weird thing!" I know this can be hard especially if you're not around the right people but the trash will take itself out if you are more open about your likes and dislikes. This is the way you will find the people that are truly meant for you, by letting go and cutting some people off. Also, I'm seeing that you need to practice gratitude and mindfulness. Keeping a journal can help. Travel to places you have always wanted to visit. The last thing that you need to do in order to "blossom" is to accept help. I get that it is nice being independent but being humans we need community. I'm not asking you to be very social and have too many friends, cuz remember the earlier point of not gaf about what other people say; yeah just do enough so that you're comfortable :) Remember that this is going to be a new chapter in your life so the key is balance.
I think you can imagine your blooming moment by now. For some of you I'm seeing the presence of a significant other. This will probably be a slow burn.
Here's a moodboard for you:
Songs:
Thank you for reading!
Pile 2
I'm mainly getting the vibe that you don't take care of yourself enough. Like no skincare, self care or you're not eating healthy. I'm not asking you to follow strict regimes to become flawless, I'm just saying that maybe something's missing, some deficiency perhaps (?) idk. I also get the vibe that you are tight on money or grew up in a low income household. There's a lack of self love in this pile. You feel like you don't deserve love or that you're low maintenance because of your past relationships. (That's just not true!) The remedy for all of this is investing in yourself. You don't have to go broke looking after yourself; keep a journal, write down your thoughts, write down positive affirmations, maybe change your wardrobe (clothes carry energy), have a candle light dinner with yourself, etc. I'm also seeing that you could be really good at handicraft so maybe you should start a business. You could even be a good photographer. You just need to start posting you're a true artist!
If you do things that make you happy and calm you're going to get closer to your blooming moment. You're going to have a really beautiful house. Your house will be adorned with pottery, paintings, etc. I get a self-satisfied vibe :)
Here's a moodboard for you:
Songs:
Thank you for reading!
Pile 3
I'm getting that this pile is very different from the last two. You probably have everything anybody could ask for or, you are working towards it. You are really close to blooming but that will need just a little more effort. You will bloom if you acknowledge your roots. You have to be very humble and thankful. Maybe you have lost track of your identity due to the grind and the struggle. Taking short breaks from time to time could be a good idea. You will bloom when you include others into your plans. Try giving gifts to friends just because. Tell them that you are glad to have them in your life. Go camping or hiking, reconnect with nature. For some of you I'm seeing an ancestor that protects you because you remind them of themselves :)) Apart from this I see that you're good at your job and leave on the dot which may have ruffled the feathers of a few people. But you don't have to worry about that. Just be your usual self. "Your coworkers can very rarely be your friends so make time for the friends that you already have." - words from your ancestor.
I see you happy and smiling in your blooming moment. Shaking hands with important people, doing what you love to do :)) Your ancestors and spirit guides are smiling too <3
Hers's a moodboard for you:
Songs:
Thank you for reading!
#pick a card#pick a pile#intuitive readings#divination#tarot#tarot reading#tarotblr#psychic readings#tarot community#duskyvenus
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hiiiii!!!! i was wondering if u could share some of the most common to least common bpd symptoms?….and maybe ones u struggle with??? <:3
ive been thinking i have bpd for awhile,, (since i was 15,i’m almost 18 now) BUT i dont wanna self diagnose bc i don’t wanna offend anyone……is that offensive? to self diagnose? idek <:p
there isnt rlly least 2 most common, bpd is a spectrum and has a wide range of experiences!!! but i will list the diagnostic criteria 4 u, and explain it in a way some1 first learning abt bpd can understand ^w^
u must experience at least 5 of the 9 symptoms from the criteria in order 2 be diagnosed!!!
1: frantic efforts 2 avoid real or imagined abandonment; this does not include suicidal or self mutilating behavior covered in criteria 5.
this means an intense fear of abandonment. if u have bpd, being abandoned by those u love is most likely ur biggest fear. ik its mine!!! xD this can look like a number of things. this can include an avoidant attachment style, pushing ppl away becuz u feel a need 2 abandon them first b4 it happens 2 u. u might do the opposite and cling rlly hard. u might resort 2 manipulation tactics n threats 2 try 2 get them 2 stay even if its not in their best interest (not every1 w bpd does this, and not every1 w bpd doing this is doing it on purpose. ive done this in the past b4 i reflected on my own behavior and realized it was wrong. we r not abusers by default and we dont have bad intentions.) u might beg them 2 stay, promise them things, try 2 change urself 4 them, yell at them 4 wanting 2 leave. its terrifying what the fear might do 2 u.
2: a pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by extremes of idealization and devaluation.
this ones pretty simple, consistently unstable relationships throughout ur life!!! but it might get a lil confusing at "extremes of idealization and devaluation", so ill try 2 explain that using a term from the bpd community, "splitting". splitting is when u switch from one extreme view of a person, object, character, pretty much anything, 2 the opposite. it USUALLY means going from loving some1 2 hating them, but it can mean the opposite (hating 2 loving), and it can apply 2 anything, not just a person. a good example of splitting is when ur fp (favorite person, another term from the bpd community) disagrees with u abt smth, or u see them hanging out with other ppl, u mightve viewed them as perfect b4 and now u feel an intense hatred and can only see them as a bad person. 2 other ppl, experiencing such a drastic change in perception over smth so small is seen as ridiculous, but rlly its entirely valid. its part of the disorder, its okay.
3: markedly and persistently unstable self image or sense of self.
u dont rlly know who u r a lot of the time, u dont have a strong sense of identity, if any at all. u might change styles often, change the way u talk, the jokes u make, ur beliefs, ur interests, ur hobbies. u might find urself basing ur entire personality on those around u. a common experience is that when ur favorite person or favorite ppl leave u, u dont know who u r anymore, becuz ur entire sense of self was mirrored from them. its like being a chameleon, but ur constantly mirroring other ppl, and ur nevr rlly ur own person.
4: impulsivity in at least two areas that r potentially self damaging (the examples listed in the DSM-5 include spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, and binge eating, but i will provide moar examples!!!); this does not include suicidal or self mutilating behavior covered in criteria 5.
this ones also pretty simple!!! but personally i find that i become moar impulsive while in a bad headspace, or while im having a bpd episode/suicidal outburst. moar impulsive actions may include property damage, physical fights, running away, cutting contact with ppl, getting in contact with ppl who u know r dangerous, etc. those r all i could think of off the top of my head and they may not be the best examples, srry!!! :(
5: recurrent suicidal behaviors, gestures, threats, or self mutilating behavior.
i would like 2 say that self harm doesnt just mean cutting!!! self harm includes burning, hitting, ripping out hair, picking at skin, stabbing, and many moar. personally ive always been a cutter and i started when i was 9 or 10, but i want every1 2 know that all self harm is valid and this is a safe space 2 discuss it. im not gonna make any1 feel ashamed of it <3 also!!! suicidal threats and gestures may come across as manipulative, but that is almost NEVR our intention. we may act out in suicidal ways becuz its the only thing that gets us any sort of attention or care that we desperately need. i dont give a shit abt "ew theyre threatening suicide 4 attention, lets ignore them" becuz attention is a basic human need, and some1 threatening suicide REGARDLESS of their intentions is always a concern. whether its a call 4 help or not, they need help. dont disregard their mental health becuz their suicidal ideation doesnt present in an "acceptable" manner. all suicidal ideation, IS suicidal ideation. whether its passive, 4 attention, active w a plan, its all valid and requires attention and care.
6: affective instability due 2 a marked reactivity of mood (eg, intense episodic dysphoria, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely moar than a few days)
intense mood swings!!! u can feel happy one moment, and then switch 2 being depressed or anxious, and then go back 2 "normal" 10 minutes later. sometimes it just happens 4 no reason!!! absolutely fucking sucks
7: chronic feelings of emptiness.
this one is hard 2 explain and can mean varying things 4 different ppl. 4 me, it means i will never be happy in the long term (maybe with medication, but.. rawdogging life? bad idea) nothing gives me any sort of long term joy and i dont feel like i have a purpose. its like theres a hole in my chest that will nevr be filled. nothing will make me complete.
8: inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger (eg, frequent displays of temper, constant anger, or recurrent physical fights)
angy
(also not every1 w bpd gets in2 physical fights or r angry at other ppl often, some ppl r moar angry at themselves)
9: transient, stress related paranoid ideation or severe dissociative symptoms.
paranoia is a symptom of bpd!!! although its shortlived in nature, and as stated above, stress related. dissociative symptoms can also present in a variety of ways!!! u can present with a fractured sense of self which may actually lead 2 u developing headmates iirc, but with them usually appearing as other versions of urself. or u might just dissociate due 2 stress or ur brain wanting 2 remove traumatic memories, 4 me dissociating feels like the whole world is fuzzy and blurry and i cant form any thoughts or emotions. i have dissociative amnesia and experience memory loss when this happens, which sucks becuz i dissociate at least once everyday. my memories r incredibly spotty and unreliable, its liek my brain is made of swiss cheese!!!
personally, i experience all of the symptoms from the diagnostic criteria, and they all effect my life on a daily basis. but that isnt 2 say that u need all of them in order 2 have bpd, as i said b4, u only need at least 5!!! there r also different types of bpd (not medically, theyre labels created by the bpd community) look in2 it if u resonate with some of the symptoms but not all of them!!! a lot of ppl who suspect they have bpd but dont present in a stereotypical way often relate 2 the term "quiet bpd", i recommend looking in2 it!!!
self diagnosis is entirely valid, and most of the ppl who r offended by it r neurotypical or they dont have the disorders that ppl r self diagnosing with. it stems mostly from ableism towards autistic ppl, specifically autistic ppl who self diagnose becuz they know theyre autistic but dont have the resources/time 2 get a diagnosis from a professional. if u believe ur borderline, and u've done ur research, i believe u. self diagnosis is not actually offensive 2 those who have mental disorders, im pretty sure the bpd community is accepting of self diagnosis!!! and if u cant find a community of ppl who r accepting of ur self diagnosis, just know that i believe u and this is a safe space 4 self diagnosis and ppl w bpd :3
bpd is also incredibly hard 2 get diagnosed with. its one of the most stigmatized disorders and often mental health professionals have a bias against it. sometimes, professional diagnosis is not an option 4 us. i knew i had bpd 4 years b4 i was able 2 get diagnosed. good luck!!!!
#jack.txt#birdie#damagedcoda6669#bpd#bpd awareness#borderline personality disorder#mental health#bpd safe#tw s3lf harm#tw self h4rm#tw sui ideation#tw self harm#tw sh#tw suicidal ideation
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i’m cranking these out like it’s a full time job
can we get some fluff w johnny where we steal his shirt and he just finds it’s the cutest thing how we practically drown in it
love youuu 💙💙
hehe i wuv him sm
johnny cage > rain
notes: i may not be a skinny queen but swimming in one of his shirts would actually cure me of all ailments forever,.,.., WHY ISNT HE REAL!!!!!!!!! @spacepl4ant
[ masterlist ]
• you and johnny had grown attached since meeting at wu shi academy. sure, you knew about his existence because he's a celebrity, but you had gotten to know johnny as a person as well as his screen persona... not that there was much of a difference.
• regardless, tuesdays were "train til you drop" days, oftentimes fighting or practicing routines for literal hours until you couldn't feel your limbs. everyone dreaded it but knew deep down it was necessary. this particular tuesday just so happened to be raining like crazy.
• you and the boys sparred and swung attacks at each other until the sun set, everyone drenched in sweat and rainwater. you all sat underneath a dense tree. kung lao shook the water from his hair, raiden was wringing out his shirt, kenshi didn't seem to mind too much and johnny was... well, using the rainwater as some kind of strange gel as he slicked his hair back.
• "talk about training your ass off," he groans, stretching his arms. "i can't feel a single part of me." you jab his side, making him whine and swat at you.
• "you complain too much," you wring your hair out onto the grass. "that being said, i'm cold and hungry and tired and i wanna go back to the dorms so i can change."
• "i like your thinking," johnny waves off the group and the two of you skip down the gravel path to the students' sleeping quarters, where your separated but loosely divided rooms held what little items you were allowed to bring with you. it was a common practice to walk around campus together, sometimes even arm in arm as you playfully waltzed down the paths. the other boys gave you a lot of trouble for it, whining about the married couple you pretend to be. neither of you stood up to defend yourselves. if anything, johnny found it a nice idea.
• in truth, you drove him wild. he just split from his ex-wife, someone that wanted to place roots down and slow down in life. but you, you were spontaneous, fun loving, and an absolute firecracker. you set his heart going, and he couldn't help but harbor a little crush on you. he couldn't tell you that, not now anyway, with the tournament coming up he knew better than to put an extra weight on you.
• "earth to superstar—" you groan, waving your hand in his face and shaking him of his thoughts. he hadn't even noticed the two of you were already at your sleeping place, and how you're now half dressed in your undershirt and shorts. "just checked my stuff. i don't have anything clean or decent. guess i'll just be soggy for dinner."
• johnny can't seem to focus when you're in a damp tank top. "bummer."
• you frown. "this is when you offer one of yours."
• his eyes are distant. "my what?"
• "jesus, cage, what's gotten into you?" you playfully punch at his chest, which does little to affect his stance, and slide the door open to his own bed arrangement. bending over and shuffling through his obnoxiously nice luggage bags, you find one of his dress shirts. it's a fiery red with small flame patterns.
• "i didn't say you could go through my stuff," he warns you in a teasing tone, head hovering over your shoulder. "you might find something you won't like in there."
• "please," you puff as you flick the shirt of its wrinkles. "i've seen a few rose toys in my day." he chuckled, turning away for a moment.
• he gives you the decency to change by staring into the corner, shamefully dreaming of what you may look like without anything on. he shakes the thought violently as you let out a sigh of contention with the shirt.
• "i get that you're a big guy, but lord," you mutter, tugging and shifting the shirt on your body. "you're bigger than i thought."
• "that's what sh—" johnny turns around with a smirk that quickly drops to the floor. you were wiggling about trying to make the shirt look like your own, but johnny was just so pleased with how it sat on you as it was. his shoulders were broader, leaving the shirt to swim around your own and expose a good deal of your collarbone. his waist was small, giving you some grace by hugging your hips almost as if it was your own top. in that split moment, johnny ponders if the "you're so hot i got a nosebleed" trope was real, wiping the bottom of his nose.
• "suits you," he pulls himself together abruptly with his award-winning grin, patting your shoulder and careful to avoid making contact with your skin, as badly as he wanted to feel your warmth. "after all this, come by my place and i'll get your own wardrobe after my style, how's that?"
• you scoff with your hands on your hips, shifting your weight to one leg. johnny fights the physical stutter at your chest creeping out of the top. "mister playboy here giving out charities to us poor folk. you don't have to do that, really."
• his voice is deadly serious. "i want to."
• "you're an odd one," you point a finger, sitting onto his bed with crossed legs. you fall silent observing his thousand yard stare, how glassy his gaze seems to be when it falls on you. "why do you look at me like that?"
• "like what?" his mouth is dry, eyes fixated on yours.
• "like you wanna kiss me all the damn time," your answer is teasing, not entirely serious but you don't miss the twitch in his lip at your statement.
• "and if i do?" he's testing the waters, something about you in his clothes is making him more bold than he swore to be.
• his answer makes your heart flutter, not expecting a direct comment like that. it changed the air of the room, and you suddenly feel a little more suffocated and insecure under his analytical stare. "why don't you?"
• "because i'm worried i'll want more. you look great in my clothes, by the way."
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How about some kinky angst where !!slightly!! dark!mommy Wanda who jumps the gun a little fast and often sets tasks that she knows are going to be too hard so she has a reason to punish you, but only because she gets too wrapped up in enjoying her dominance that she forgets what’s important in being a domme.
Anyway, reader catches on somewhat and starts feeling like nothing she ever does is good enough, and that she’s doing everything wrong so what’s the point in trying?
And so one day after reader fails to complete another task up to wanda’s impossibly high standard, reader starts mouthing off and in wanda’s eyes, is just being a massive brat so she tells reader to get over her lap and starts to spank her, but when she doesn’t get any argument from reader, not even a single sound in response to the hard hits, is when Wanda finally realised something is wrong. She tilts readers chin over to look at her and when she sees a numb face, is when she really starts to worry.
“Detka, whats wrong?” She asks, but reader just dismissed her with ‘nothing’. So she presses again, “somethings obviously wrong, tell mommy what-“
“Nothings wrong!” Reader interjects. “Just get on with the punishment so it’s over. Please…” readers voice is mostly flat but with a twinge of pain.
“Malyshk, I can’t continue this when something is clearly wrong, so what is it?”
“JUST GET IT OCER WITH! Please… I just wanna be good again…”
And there it is. That’s when Wanda realises she has been making things impossible for reader and now reader feels like she is only good when she’s being punished. And angsty apology ensues, and it ends with a fluffy cuddle session calming reader down from crying and Wanda having to calm herself down too, lots of reassurance and a promise on wanda’s life to change.
- bunny (new anon, not new to your blog 🩷)
Oh so i'm starting off my morning SAD
This is good bunny, I would hate writing this because I love Wanda too much but a slight dark!Wanda would absolutely do this, too wrapped up in her own head and dominance to remember that her subs comfort is the number one thing she should be thinking about
The apology would be so sweet though, and Wanda would never do it again, your safety and feelings always at the front of her mind with every scene
UGH my heart hurts
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WIBTA for calling out my friend's spending habits?
✈💸 to find later
I (NB 20s) have been struggling to find employment for a long time. I've been struggling a lot with money- I'm technically indebted to my bank due to an overdraft I dipped into during my last weeks of university while paying off surprise fees, and in the entire year since have been unsuccessful in paying it off for any meaningful length of time. The stress has been immense and I've been avoiding like the plague any kind of personal purchase or leisure activity that might cost me anything. It's a mindset that's been making me profoundly miserable and that I'll probably struggle to get out of for a long time.
However, in the past few weeks, I've managed to land what I can only describe as my dream job. It doesn't start for another couple months, and the pay won't be fantastic (it's an internship), but without a doubt it will change my life. Desperate to do something nice and give myself a break, members of my family agreed to lend me money via plane tickets to do a nice trip this summer and see my best friends abroad, my last big hurrah before entering the full-time workforce for the rest of my life (and being able to pay them back). And I've been really excited! I've been saving even harder than usual, scraping up cash and politely asking grandparents. It won't be easy to support myself in another country in my financial situation, I understand that, but I'm at a point where I think I can do it for a short time and not be a burden on the people who are hosting me.
However, the only issue comes with my friend (NB 20s). I've known them for years, we're extremely close, and we've been waiting for a chance to see each other again for most of that time not knowing if it would ever happen due to my financial situation, so this is the opportunity of a lifetime. They really want to host me, for at least 2 weeks, and do all these nice things together we've been planning. But in the past month or so they've all but drained hundreds of dollars from their bank account in art commissions and room decorations for themself, all of which they've been excitedly showing off to me and our other friends, all the while running out of money entirely. They can't pick up work from their (seasonal) job anymore, either, so there's no way for them to earn back the money now, and recently they've started having to push their commissions just to cover their student loan payment this month. In ordinary circumstances I wouldn't mind and would try and help them out, but I won't be in any financial position on the trip to cover their bills as well as my own (at least not regularly), and I feel like this would have been so preventable if they'd just... picked less wildly expensive things to buy as a treat, knowing the circumstances.
They've said they're also stressed and need to buy themselves nice things sometimes, which I totally agree with! I'm not that much of a party pooper, they are in a rough situation themself right now and the stuff they bought does make them genuinely happy. But it also sucks to watch them then have to struggle to pay for bills and necessities because of it, and I feel really selfish for thinking of it in the framework of our time together later as well. I've done my absolute best to be able to spend at least a few weeks having a great time with them not worrying and pinching pennies while taking care of myself, but now I'm worried we're just going to spend the trip with both of us stressed out of our minds and stuck at home struggling to pay for gas. I'm an anxious person, and the few times I've tried to bring up my worries in a more gentle way, they've vehemently reassured me everything will be fine, but now I'm leaving in just over a week and everything seems like it's getting worse instead of improving.
I know I should be just glad to spend time in their company, even if it is just at home, but I can't stop feeling like the way they've been spending money in the leadup to this has been really irresponsible and preventable. But even if so, it made them happy in the moment so i should be happy for them too, and surely it's just straight up none of my business? It's also not like they can take it back now- it's already happened, and they can't earn the money back if they wanted to. I feel like if i called them on it at this point it'd just be a dick move and come across pointless and jealous, but I also can't help but think it's unproductive to let this gnaw at me the entire time, like I should really be communicating this kind of upset and talk it out first in case it comes to a head and boils over and ruins our whole time together.
I'm aware I'll be long into the trip by the time this posts but it'd be nice to look back and see other perspectives.
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the thing about fhjy ending is that like. the promo dropped september 26th. it was like my fourth week of high school and second week of college. i still vividly remember freaking out about it in my high school library at 8am but trying to be cool in the process.
the proper trailer came out december 13th. luckily i was at home this time, but i remember shrieking and flailing and giggling like the biggest loser imaginable, because i was so goddamn excited. thank god i was home alone.
the first episode came out january 10th. i watched it about half an hour after it dropped, because i was at bowling practice when it actually did, and between coming home and getting dinner, i was a little late. i watched with the biggest grin on my face and live blogged the entire thing.
and now it’s may 22nd, and i just finished watching the finale. i loved it, obviously. i went on a roller coaster of emotions that surprisingly didn��t end with me fully sobbing, though it got pretty damn close. i laughed and i teared up and i cheered and i kept that same goofy little smile on my face most of the time.
i graduate in two weeks. this show has been with me for basically my entire senior year - through my entire bowling season, the musical i state managed and the play i helped create, every college application and subsequent admission, my actual college selection, every single dumb little thing you have to do when you’re a high school senior. in a way, i can’t separate fantasy high junior year from my own real life senior year.
it sounds cheesy, i know, but this season has really meant a lot to me. it’s strange now that it’s ending. i don’t really know what to do, now. focus on whatever never stop blowing up is, i guess.
i still love the bad kids forever, by the way. even if we aren’t going to see them in action for the next god knows how many years. they’re very dear to my heart. that isn’t changing any time soon.
#this is so dumb but i needed to say something#idk if it’s just me being dramatic but like… i feel like im going to be missing a part of myself#dimension 20#fantasy high#fantasy high junior year#reese’s pieces
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