#idk i just... i have a lot of thoughts about this
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do you believe me now? | 4
in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.
part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three
18+ (smut)
warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!)
a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses
(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!
“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”
You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him.
“That one is complicated.”
You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye.
“You don’t know.”
“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”
“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”
“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”
“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”
Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign.
You look at it.
And then you set your phone down.
“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness.
Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder.
“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”
Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside.
“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”
“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”
“Yes, I have.”
It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes.
“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”
You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment.
He looks good. Almost too good.
“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek.
“Something… naked?”
His grin widens and he shakes his head.
“Me naked or you naked?”
Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth.
“Mm… why not both?”
“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”
The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him.
“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”
He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.
“You sound sure of yourself.”
“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”
He grabs your wrist carefully.
“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”
“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.”
He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”
Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek.
“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”
“So business as usual?”
He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best.
“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”
A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.
Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body.
You cover his hand with your own.
“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”
Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion.
“What? No!”
“Are you going to cheat on me?”
“Absolutely not, I—”
“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”
“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”
“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”
It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies.
“Every time?”
“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks.
“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”
You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense.
“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”
“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”
You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this.
“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”
Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy.
“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”
You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel.
“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”
He kisses your palm.
“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”
“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”
Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.
“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”
He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him.
“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you.
“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”
“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”
Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly.
“You want to know what I’d do to you?”
“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds.
“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”
As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no.
“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”
You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful.
“What are you gonna do after that?”
“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”
Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly.
“Yes, please.”
He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting.
“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”
“Why careful? I don’t want that.”
He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine.
“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”
The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it.
“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”
It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for.
Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—
And then his phone rings.
You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present.
He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing.
“I’m sorry.”
Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.
“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster.
If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem.
“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”
He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest.
“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place.
You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand.
“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”
He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair.
“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”
You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him.
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Yeah.”
Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful.
Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front.
“I’m sorry,” he sighs again.
“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”
“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”
You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you.
But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame.
Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you.
In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul.
“Spencer?”
“Hm?”
It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin.
“I…”
Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential.
He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands.
“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind.
“I forget.”
FUUUUUUCK.
Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake.
He knows.
He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity.
Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like.
“Well, let me know if you remember.”
It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.
Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before.
You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.
But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it?
Maybe you have it all wrong.
Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you.
You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick.
24 hours go by.
24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up.
Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure.
Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)
Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off.
You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking.
“Hello?”
Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep.
“Shit, did I wake you?”
“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed.
“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”
“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”
“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone.
“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”
A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said.
“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room.
“Oh. Is everything okay?”
“As much as it can be.”
“Right.”
More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while.
“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”
“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”
“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs.
“What? Why?”
“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”
Laughter tapers off into gentler tones.
“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”
Blood rushes to your cheeks.
“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”
Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”
“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble.
“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”
When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no.
“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”
“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”
You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly.
“Guess whose bed.”
Silence.
“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”
“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”
“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”
“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”
Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.
“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”
“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.
“No, not you. You are always the exception.”
“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”
Spencer groans.
“You’re killing me.”
“What? What did I do!”
“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”
“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”
But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure. After a pause, he sighs in defeat.
“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”
“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?” you frown.
“Tell me what this is.”
“I—I don’t know what you mean.”
Lying to a profiler is usually pointless.
“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”
Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up.
“I don’t know. I miss you.”
He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones. It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic.
“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”
“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”
“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”
Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…
“I’m not taking anything out on you.”
“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”
Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand.
“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket.
“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”
“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter.
“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”
“I—”
“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”
The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges.
“What… what thoughts?”
“None that you need to concern yourself with.”
“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it.
“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it.
“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”
“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”
“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”
“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer.
Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—
“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”
“Take a wild guess.”
“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”
You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing.
“What are you doing with a box of condoms?”
He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you.
“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”
“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”
“You wanted them to be for you, huh?”
You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that.
“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”
It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before.
“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft.
“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”
“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”
You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest.
“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”
The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows.
“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”
“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”
“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”
“Do we have to?”
The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts.
“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”
“But you’re… you’re good, right?”
Thankfully he picks up on your meaning.
“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”
“And I’m good. So...”
“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”
You groan in frustration.
“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”
“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”
“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”
The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous.
“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”
“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”
“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”
You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them.
“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.
“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”
“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”
He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit.
“You want me to come inside you?”
“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice.
—
On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making.
“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”
“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now.
“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”
You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—
“’M not.”
Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that.
“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”
You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers.
“Where are you touching?”
“Um—over my clothes.”
Cute.
“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”
It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”
He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base.
“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”
Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut.
“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock.
“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”
“I am ready��” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”
“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.”
He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk.
“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”
“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”
The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump.
“Did you find it?”
“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”
“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”
“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”
He gets the general sentiment.
“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
“Mhm!”
“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”
“Yes,” you cry.
“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”
“Spencer!”
He knows.
“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”
The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist.
“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”
“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”
“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”
He’s barely kidding.
“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease.
“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”
You laugh. He blushes even more.
“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”
“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”
“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”
“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”
The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone.
“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”
“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide.
Or if it was something else. It could also be something else.
For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you.
—
A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here.
You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?
“Spencer?” you murmur.
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength.
“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?”
Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink.
“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”
“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”
“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”
Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous.
“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”
Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue.
“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”
“But…?”
Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared.
“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”
The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out.
“You regret your first time?”
Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does.
“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”
Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash.
Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins.
What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same.
You want to scream bloody murder.
But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”
Maybe that’s worse.
Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence.
“I didn’t realize you…”
I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back.
I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me.
I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later.
If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was.
“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help.
More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does.
“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”
Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?
What does one even wear to a breakup date?
“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound.
Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more.
“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”
“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right.
“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.
So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here.
“Goodnight.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid fic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fic
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i come barring a request for a poly!marauders🫡📃
idk you ever do this with ur cat but when mine meows at me i respond back and pretend we’re having a full conversation, and now imagine reader this with her cat and she’s roommates with lily so she’s used to but then the boys see they’re all thrown off and slightly worried.
now i bid you good day my lady 🫡
I've had this blurb like half finished for a while, but since we were all talking about our fur babies today, I thought it'd be perfect to finish and post! thanks for this cute request - hope it's what you were looking for
poly!marauders x fem!reader who talks to her cat
Remus felt sort of bad for Lily at the way the boys all deflated when it had been her who opened the door to your shared flat instead of you. Thankfully, the red-head just laughed and invited them all in.
“Sorry to disappoint boys.” She jested as they all made themselves at home on your couch.
“Oh, we’re always happy to see you, Lily.” James said at the same time as Sirius grumbled “you should be”, earning him a pinch in the ribs by Remus.
“Hey!” Lily called down the hall. “The boys are here!”
Remus winced at a painful sounding thump and a muffled. “Okay thanks! I’m almost ready!”
The boys were very excited, if James’ knee bouncing and Sirius’ impish smirk wasn’t obvious enough. Lily had been gushing about how sweet her new roommate was and how she thought you’d get along really well with the group of friends, and she’d been right. You came to two pub nights and the boys were hooked; constantly asking Lily for updates and if you’d be at the next one.
Lily had grown so tired of playing messenger that she asked you if she could give them your phone number, to which you had agreed.
The four of you had been in a group chat for nearly a month and a half before they felt brave enough to ask you out on an official date.
“Where are you guys going tonight?” Lily asked as she sat in an armchair in the living area where the boys were waiting.
“We’re going to the pub on 42nd.” James answered readily.
“The one with the board games and vintage video games?” Lily clarified.
“Yup. That way there’s something for us to do if conversation lulls, and something for James to do with his hands.” Sirius explained teasingly, causing James to blush and lean into his side as if he were trying to hide inside of Sirius’ smaller frame.
“Don’t tease the lad.” Lily admonished playfully. “He’s already likely nervous enough. I don’t think you lot have to worry about tonight though; conversation never lulls with her around.”
Remus tilted his head in bemusement at Lily’s comment but never got to ask for clarification before he heard some muttering.
“Would you stop that?” He could hear you mutter quietly; barely any ire detected in your tone.
“Please don’t do this, I’m already late.” You begged before a big crash took place. “For fuck’s sa- why.”
“You’re not allowed to get ready with me anymore.” You declared to your bedroom. Remus shared a look with Sirius and James before turning towards Lily who only shook her head and brought her finger to her lips.
“Don’t look at me like that!” You carried on. “If you want to be here to see me off, you need to behave yourself.”
It was quiet for a few moments. “No, knocking over my jewelry stand is not behaving.”
They listened to you shuffling around before you let out a big sigh. “I love you too, but you are stressing me out. Do you want to watch shows with Lily tonight while I’m gone? Hm? Let’s go ask.”
Finally, you exited your room and made your way down the hall, entering the living area before pausing to take in the fact that the four occupants of your flat were all staring at you with varying levels of bemusement and amusement.
And trotting happily behind you was a small cat seemingly none the wiser to the fact that it just made its mistress look like a fool in front of her dates.
You chuckled awkwardly. “How much did you hear?”
Lily snorted and pat her legs as an invitation for your feline friend, who happily agreed, hopping and curling up on the red-head’s lap.
“Enough to know that knocking over your jewelry stand is not behaving.” Sirius teased salaciously.
You groaned and moved to cover your face with your hands, but James was having none of that and quickly made for you.
“Don’t hide that beautiful face from us; it’d be a shame if the only one who got to appreciate your date night look was your cat.” He commented as he gently pulled your hands away from your face.
You still looked awfully embarrassed but acquiesced. “A bad cat, at that.” You spat to the ball of fur currently sitting with your roommate without any real malice.
“Oi!” Lily defended quickly, brushing broad strokes over the cat like the villain from Austin Powers. “Don’t speak ill of Princess Bernadette the Third.”
“Princess Bernadette?” Sirius asked bewilderedly at the same time as James murmured “the Third?”
“Birdie, Lily. My cat’s name is Birdie.” You corrected, not at all amused.
Lily raised her nose in the air. “When we stay home to watch Bridgerton without you lot, she’s Princess Bernadette the Third. Now off with you, we have Ball’s to attend, and you have gentlemen to court.”
Remus watched with a loving smile as you flushed furiously at that, laughing when it only deepened as Sirius suddenly stood and made his way for you, bowing with a flourish and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Shall we, m’lady?”
You gave him an eye roll but Remus could tell it was mostly for show as you bore a sickeningly sweet smile and accepted James’ elbow as you made your way to the door.
“Have fun you guys!” Lily called towards the door as Remus bent down to scritch Birdie on the chin.
“You too, Princess Bernadette, Princess Lillith.” He offered with his most posh accent and a quick bow before joining his two boyfriends and their date at the door.
#marauders era#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#reader insert#self insert#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter#poly!marauders#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders ficlet#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x you#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#james potter x reader#james potter x you#fem!reader#fluff#ellecdc fics
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One of the biggest things that makes me see Leo as trans is absolutely the size of his carapace in comparison to his brothers’.
And I’m not talking about height! I’m specifically looking at his shell here, because when you compare him to the others, particularly Donnie who is nearly the same height as Leo, it’s very clear that Leo’s carapace is much longer in proportion to the rest of his body.
Like - standing side by side, even though Donnie is shorter his carapace ends noticeably higher up than Leo’s does. And I like this not only because it really helps push the idea that Leo could very likely be trans (or intersex!), but it’s also just a fun design difference between them.
(It also lends way to future scenarios of Donnie eventually getting taller than Leo, but sitting down still has Leo being the taller one haha.)
#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt leo#trans leonardo#rottmnt headcanons#rise leo#trans leo#it’s like 4 am and I’m having trans leo feelings again sorry guys#totally get if other people disagree with me on this! but it’s always gonna be my no.1 headcanon fr#his complexion the vibrancy of his colors staying even in adulthood his general demeanor and this? this hc is LOCKED in my brain#plus the times Leo’s depicted in pink white and blue throughout the series like I KNOW it wasn’t on purpose but damn if it doesn’t help#(his nails are also the exact same as his toe nails/claws but I don’t super count this one tbh)#(even though it is TECHNICALLY another point in favor of trans leo)#(mainly because all the boys’ nails are very much more humanoid than turtle)#(just like how their tails aren’t really a factor either since we see them only in their baby forms and never again)#I really like the idea that he was a female red eared slider pre mutation#and Lou Jitsu’s dna paved how his humanoid features came out (aka a more masculine build and voice)#but his turtle features are all very much more in like with a female res#love the thought of rise bros meeting og comic turtle boys and Leo being like wait you guys are res too?? but…you’re not colorful……#one headcanon I have is that - you know the cute chirping and stuff we have the boys do?#I like to think that Leo’s chirping actually sounds more feminine to himself and his bros (so he tends to not do it)#idk I love thinking about this hc a lot and there’s no time like four am to talk about it huh?#future scenario has future Donnie going up to future Leo all smug like ah Nardo how’s the weather down there#and Leo’s all like good *sits down* why don’t you join me :)#Donnie: …*sits and stretches his neck out to be taller still*#Leo calls him a cheater but Donnie calls it ‘making use of his species’s advantages’#but yeah basically for many turtles the case is - bigger carapace? female. smaller carapace? male.#so it’s very interesting to take that knowledge and apply it here#did you know one of the turtles that this rule of thumb DOESNT apply to is alligator snapping turtles? male ones are the bigger ones there!#by a big difference too so Raph’s size makes a LOT of sense
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Twst Dormleaders + Jamil Accidentally Call MC (Y/N) a Mudblood During an Argument
A/N: This is a Harry Potter AU. I would highly suggest reading the previous: “Twst boys and their Blood Status”, to really grasp the understanding of this concept because if you don’t you may or may not be confused. If you aren’t familiar with the term “Mudblood”, it’s a very offensive word that pure-blood wizards and half blood wizards (ironically enough) use against muggleborns. The meaning is “dirty blood”. Now I know I said in the previous post that most of the boys would never discriminate against blood status, and that’s true but sometimes people can say what they don’t mean, especially when they’re angry. Now I might make a part 2 of this post as redemption headcanons on how they apologize, idk. Now just to clarify MC (y/n) is not dating them but the boys do have a secret crush on them and they’re friends.
Riddle Rosehearts
You two were arguing about how you are apparently getting “lazy” with your school work. But in your defense you weren’t being lazy because you had a lot on your plate, being prefect of Ramshackle and the “beast tamer”.
You two were in the Heartstabyl Lounge area studying because he wanted to help you
You kept picking up your phone every five minutes to answer texts from your friends or professors and Riddle was getting annoyed with you every passing minute.
“Prefect, don’t you know how rude it is to be on your phone when someone is speaking to you?” He says tapping his gloved fingers on the table with an annoyed expression.
“Hm?” You say while scrolling and not making eye contact.
Riddle rolls his eyes. “You’re supposed to be paying attention. I’m helping you for a reason. On your last potions exam you received a 70%. That’s extremely disgraceful for not only just for a regular student, but also a prefect!”
You finally put your phone down and make eye contact with him. “Will you just relax? A 70% isn’t bad. It’s still passing, and besides that topic was so hard to learn. Will you just cut me some slack?”
Riddle sees red when you say a mere 70% “isn’t bad”. He stands up and begins to raise his voice while making eye contact with you. “You can’t be serious Y/n! You’re supposed to be setting an example! Why are you even a prefect if you can’t even have the motivation to work hard and have perseverance! And besides the topic wasn’t even difficult, it’s just you’re not even trying!”
You get angry and stand up to meet his eye level. “Not trying? NOT TRYING? You have no idea what my life is like everyday! To have an idiot headmaster to make you do his job for him, solve problems that aren’t even your fault and stop overblots without dying! Of course you would be inconsiderate of my situation and scold me! Listen just because your mother was hard on you with your academics, doesn’t mean you have to act that way with me!”
Riddle loses it
“YOU’RE RIGHT, I WOULDN’T EXPECT A MUDBLOOD LIKE YOU TO UNDERSTAND THE IMPORTANCE OF SUCCEEDING IN COMPLEX WIZARD ACADEMICS!”
There was a pause
You stare at him for a long time without blinking
Riddle realizes what came out of his mouth, he knows that was he said was extremely below the belt. He clears his throat and averts his eyes.
Then his eyes widen with horror, a sight he was dreaded to see. Your eyes went red and glossy. Tears began to flow from your eyes.
“Y/n I-.” He was cut off by you swiftly packing your things and hastily leaving the room.
Riddle quietly curses himself. How stupid can he be? He made people cry before. But he’d never thought in a million years that he would make the person he secretly loved cry. Especially using….THAT word. He wants to make it up to you. But how?
Leona Kingscholar
You were angry at the fact that Crowley made it YOUR responsibility to make sure that Leona was going to class on time and participate in his studies.
Not only that, but you were angry at the fact that you barely got to spend time with him due to his excessive sleeping schedule. At first, you didn’t mind helping Leona get to class on time or that he likes to sleep. But after a while, it became a chore to “babysit” the lazy lion.
You were on your way to the botanical gardens, Leona’s self claimed napping spot, to tell him he needs to be in class.
You found him
“Leona.” You gently shook him.
He shifts and turns to you with a half open glare.
He lightly growls. “Go away Herbivore. Can’t you see I’m napping?”
You roll your eyes. “Yes I can see that and you shouldn’t be. You are meant to be in class.”
He ignores you
You huff in frustration and gently kick his side. “Up. Now.”
Leona growls loudly this time and sits up.
“Don’t you have any idea of how much this situation affects me? What do you get out of sleeping all the time? I want to spend time with you and you’re not making any effort on your part.” You say while crossing your arms.
Leona rolls his eyes
“Tsk. You’re such a nuisance. Not everything is about you. Now run along and play with the other annoying first year brats.” He turns his head while shooing his hand dismissively.
Your eyes widen.
“Are you kidding me?! Do you know how much pressure I’m in? You are so selfish! You act like you’re the king of everything and don’t even give a damn about things around you! You’re being heartless!
“Just leave, you’re being an annoying mudblood but you don’t seem to be aware of that.”
“W-what?….” You say quietly and shocked staring at him.
“I said leave!” He says shifting back into his previous sleeping position turning away from you.
You look down and tears make their way fast down your cheeks.
“F-fine…I’ll go.” You say trying to sound like you weren’t crying but failed.
You turned on your heel and quickly made your way out of the botanical gardens without looking back.
When you left Leona instantly felt a weight on him….a feeling called guilt. He curses himself and shifts his laying position to him now laying on his back looking up. He couldn’t believe that he just disrespected the one he secretly fancied. He knows he’ll get a scolding from Ruggie later.
Azul Ashengrotto
You and Azul were partnered for a potion project for Professor Crewel’s Alchemy class.
Many students didn’t like working with Azul due to his reputation, however, you were fine with working with him because you seen him from a different angle.
However with intelligence comes with a touch of arrogance.
Azul had a bad habit of being arrogant because of how intelligent he was. And just because you were friends with him, there was no exception.
You both were in one of the labs working on the potion
“Stop. Stop. Stop. You’re adding too much.” He says while blocking the top of the cauldron with his hands.
You look at him annoyed. He’s been doing this for the past 15 minutes. You were confident that you were following the instructions carefully.
“No I’m not.” “Yes you are.” “No.” “Yes.”
That went on for some time.
You were finally fed up
“Why are you so obnoxious, Azul? Why do you think you’re superior to me?” Azul rubs his temple annoyed. “That’s not the case. I’m just simply correcting you of your mistakes. That’s all prefect.” He says through his teeth.
“I barely make mistakes! I’m just as capable as you are when it comes to magic! Hell I’m just as skilled as you are!”
Azul then chuckles lowly.
“Why are you laughing?” You say with a hint of venom in your voice.
“Prefect, let’s not over-exaggerate and make unrealistic claims.” He says arrogantly as he mixes the potion.
“And what exactly are you implying?” He pauses and collects himself before he answers.
“Let’s just say you have a lot of room for improvement. Compared to you I am more gifted and boarder line perfect at my studies.”
You retaliated
“Well I can say the same for you.” He pauses and looks at you. “Oh? Do tell?”
“While you have intelligence you sure lack at physical education. Not exactly what I would call “perfect”. Azul’s eyebrow twitches when you mention the one subject in school he sucks at.
Physical education was a really touchy subject for Azul. He was constantly bullied because he was always in last place. He sucked at it when he was a kid, and he sucked at it now.
You smirk in satisfaction when you see his reaction and you continue to add ingredients to the cauldron.
“At least I’m not a headmaster’s lapdog!” He says in defense.
You stop what you’re doing and turn to him. “At least I’m not a scheming, lying sad excuse of a house warden who can’t let go of the past!”
“AT LEAST I’M NOT A FILTHY MUDBLOOD WHO DOESN’T BELONG HERE!”
You look at him with wide eyes.
Azul immediately realizes his mistake
“Y/n please I-.” He tries to walk over to you but you walk away. He hears faint noises of whimpers and sniffles coming from you. It was clear that you were crying. He sighs angry at himself
“Why did I do that?….now they’ll never love me back….”
Kalim Al Asim
You two were hanging out in the Scarabia dorm lounge. Kalim had tea and snacks laid out and you both were talking for hours.
Kalim wanted to ask you questions about the world you came from
Some were easy to answer but some of them were on the touchy side. Such as “What were your parents like?” Or “Were you happy with your old self before you came here?” Etc.
You were slightly annoyed but didn’t say anything
Then suddenly Kalim asks
“Do you know why the mirror chose you? I mean after all your boarder line just a regular human with the exception of a little bit magical ancestry.”
This question made you set your teacup down. You didn’t know why. So many people asked you this question. You didn’t know why you were randomly taken away from a world you were content in. The more you thought about it, the less special you thought you were.
“I-I don’t know Kalim, can you please not ask me that again?”
Kalim looks at you surprised
“But why? It’s just a simple question.”
“No it’s not, just drop it okay?” You say averting your eyes
“Oh I should’ve known….mudblood’s tend to be really sensitive about their feelings.”
Now it’s to be mentioned that Kalim didn’t know what the word “mudblood” actually meant. All he knew was it was a term used to address muggle-borns. In fact he thought it was a new use of slang because he over heard some other pure-blood wizards use that term in class. He didn’t know that it would offend you.
You freeze and slowly meet his gaze
Kalim looks at you. “What?”
“Don’t you EVER call me that again!” And with that, you get up and angrily march your way out of the lounge passing Jamil on your way out.
Kalim looks at Jamil shocked. “Did I say something wrong?”
Jamil shakes his head disapprovingly while rubbing his temple and mumbles, “Why are you such an idiot?”
Jamil Viper
You wanted Jamil to take a break. That’s all you wanted.
He was over-working himself because he felt obligated to. Even Kalim told him to take a break. But he simply wouldn’t accept it.
He wasn’t answering your texts and even calls, so you made your way to Scarabia
You searched for him everywhere until you caught sight of him making his way to his bedroom.
“Jamil!” I speed walked up to him and he meets your gaze with a tired and bored expression.
He exhales sharply. “What do you want Prefect. I’m quite busy.”
“That’s exactly why I need to talk to you. Why are you making yourself busy all the time? You haven’t been answering your phone.”
He rubs his temple annoyed. “And here I thought you needed something important……if you came here to waste my time, leave. I have no time for nonsense.”
He turns to enter his room but you grab his arm to stop him. “Why are you being like this. I just want to help-“
“Well you aren’t! So stop trying and leave! I don’t know why you would care about a servant like me!”
You were taken aback by his harsh response
“Is this what this is about?! I don’t care about your status!” You say. “I just want to spend time with you that’s all! You don’t have to be at Kalim’s side for every little thing!”
“WHAT WOULD YOU KNOW ABOUT MY SITUATION AND HARD WORK, YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A MUDBLOOD!”
Pause
You let go of his arm and take a few steps back
“Wait hold on I-.” Jamil tries to say, but you left teary eyed.
Jamil curses under his breath and goes into his room. His sits down on his bed and reflects on what just happened while putting his hands through his hair.
“Now they’ll definitely choose Kalim over me now…”
Vil Schoenheit
“Honestly Prefect, do you always leave looking like this?”
Vil has been scolding you for the past ten minutes because of the state of your messy attire.
You were rolling your eyes because of how dramatic he was being. After all, it was just your tie being undone and there were just a few strands of hair out of place.
“Stop being over-dramatic, Vil. It’s not a big deal.”
His eyes widen in disbelief. “It is VERY much a big deal. If you’re going to be a Prefect, you need to look your best. Your academics not only reflect your dorm and school but also how well kept you keep yourself!”
He begins to fix your hair and tie but you were being uncooperative and moved a lot.
“Stop moving!” “Get your hands off me!”
He stops and looks at you. “So you would rather look like a filthy potato and have me just leave you like this?”
“I want you stop acting like you’re my mother!” You say defensively.
“Well if you dressed yourself properly, I wouldn’t have to!” He retaliates.
“Do you take pride in being a stuck up person?!” You yell back.
“And do YOU take pride in being an unfashionable mudblood?” He says calmly while glaring down at you.
You look at him shocked with wide eyes
His glare softens and he clears his throat realizing his rude mistake.
“Prefect….listen…” Before he could finish you take off.
Rook , who was listening to the whole conversation, of course, seen you leaving and went up to Vil.
“That was a very unbeautiful thing to say, Roi de Poison. You have to apologize.”
Vil exhales sharply, “I know….i just wanted to help…I just wanted to show them how beautiful they are. But they won’t let me…”
Rook sighs, “By calling them the forbidden word?”
Vil’s gaze is down
“At this rate….they’ll never give me a chance…I have to make it up to them.”
Idia Shroud
You wanted him to leave his room. It was a very unhealthy life style in your opinion.
You guys always spent time in his room all because he didn’t want to leave due to his anti-social lifestyle.
Well this time, you wanted to change things a bit
You went to Ignihyde dorm, and you made your way to his room. You knocked on the door and he answered it.
“H-Hey Prefect.”
“Why don’t we hang out outside today. It’s a great cloudy day out.”
He pauses before he answers
“W-why?”
“Well, it’s different and you could get out more- “No.” He cuts you off.
“No? But why?”
He rolls his eyes. “In case you hadn’t noticed Prefect, I don’t do well with….outside.”
You cross your arms. “Well it wouldn’t hurt to try. Come on.” You take his arm and lead him outside despite his protests.
You both make your way outside of the dorm and go into the main court yard of the school.
“See? Isn’t this better?” You say with a smile.
He shakes his head slowly while looking at the ground.
You both go sit down on a bench and begin talking.
“Hey Prefect!” You look up and see Ace and Deuce. “Hey!” You smile and wave them over.
Idia rolls his eyes in annoyance. He hated interacting with other people, not only that, he was annoyed at the fact that Ace and Deuce always was interrupting your guys’s hang out time. Whether if it was showing up in person or texting. He was always jealous of them. Couldn’t they go one day without talking to you?
“So whatcha guys doing?” Asked Ace.
“Well we are just sitting here and talking.” You replied with a smile. “May we join you?” Deuce asked.
“Sur- “No.” Idia interrupts you. You look at him confused. “Huh?” Ace says. Deuce speaks up. “So is that a yes or- “It’s a no.” Idia says passive aggressively.
Ace and Deuce look at you confused. “Well…okay…see you later y/n.” Ace says awkwardly and leaves with Deuce. After they leave, you turn to Idia and glare.
“What the hell was that? Why did you do that?”
“Why do YOU feel the need to be at their aid every moment of every day?” He replies hostile.
“What’s your problem? Are you still mad at the fact that I made you come outside?” “No….its not that!” “Then what is it?! You’re being extremely weird.” “And you’re being an inconsiderate mudblood!”
“No YOU’RE the one who’s-….wait…what?”
He pauses and averts his eye realizing what he said. “Um…”
Your blood boils as you stand up. “Fine, you can go back to your room. I’m sorry that a mudblood like me wasted your time.” You hastily leaves the area.
“Wait hold on-.” He was left with his own thoughts. “……Ortho is not gonna like this.” He says quietly to himself.
Malleus Draconia
Malleus wanted to spend time with you so badly. However, your rigorous schedule wouldn’t allow it.
He would always try to make plans with you, like getting ice cream together, going on nightly walks, or even studying; but you always politely declined
The more times you canceled, the more annoyed and angry Malleus got.
Well he had enough and decided to confront you late at night. He got Silver to tell you to meet him at the court yard.
Once you got there, you were met with a very angry dragon fae.
“Oh Tsunotaro, did you need something?”
“I’m not liking the fact that you’re being so casual about this, Child of Man.”
You look at him confused, you genuinely didn’t know what he was talking about, you were completely oblivious towards his words.
“Have I done something wrong?”
He exhales so sharply in frustration that you could’ve sworn you seen smoke coming out of him. You know that he’s extremely upset.
“You always decline my plans with you. And yet you have the audacity to be so naive about it. Not to mention, I see you around those first years, you claim that you’re “busy” but you’re spending time with them….” He glares at you with his arms crossed. Then it finally hit you, was he jealous?
“Tsunotaro, listen-.”
“No, I believe that it is YOU who will listen, Child of Man. I go out of my way to make some time with you and this is how you repay me?”
You get defensive. “YOU have to make time??? I have to make time for so much! You have no idea what my life is like! I’m sorry that you’re so clingy to understand, but I have a life too. And besides I wouldn’t exactly call my time with Ace and Deuce “hanging out”, I would call it “babysitting”, because that’s exactly what I do everyday! Babysit! So I’m sorry if you’re so clingy and needy to the point where you can’t understand that I can’t babysit and entertain you too!”
He takes great offense to your words. Is that really what you see him as? A somebody to entertain for a while and drop them whenever you felt like it?
He glares at you. “Perhaps Sebek was correct….all of you mudbloods are the same.” He says lowly enough for you to hear him.
Your glare disappears and you stare at him in shock. “W-what?…”
He averts his eyes in shame when he sees your reaction. The idea sounded better in his head than out loud. He just wanted to hurt your feelings so that you could feel what he felt when you ditched him all those times….he was so tired of being alone.
“F-fine then….” You say teary eyed. “I should‘ve known a pure-blood wizard like you wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of me.”
“Child of man….wait-.” You ran off back to your own dorm. Leaving him there.
He gazes down at the ground. “What have I done…..they’ll never love me….”
#anime and manga#azul ashengrotto#disney twisted wonderland#disney#fypage#fyp2024#idia shroud#kalim al asim#leona kingscholar#fypシ゚viral#vil schoenheit#riddle rosehearts#jamil viper#harry potter au#yana toboso#twst yuu#twst rp#twst x reader#malleus draconia#twst wonderland#twisted wonderland#mobile games#fypfypfypfypfypfypdypfypfypfypfypfypfyfpfyfpfyp#fypppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp#tumblr fyp#fyppage#my fanfiction
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hiii! i’m new to this blog but i see you’ve got a free week (SO jealous) so i was wonderinggg if you’d be willing to do a leo x fem reader where they’re on a quest/mission or something undercover and have to make out to keep their cover? sorta like that one b99 scene with jake and amy ig😅
"Just to blend in?" -Leo Valdez x Reader (Friends to Lovers?)
A/N : Hi dear!, thank you so much for your request, to be honest i was kinda procrastinating a bit on writing this but! i just got new nails so i felt the motivation kick in y'know, so sorry if this is a bit late, I like the concept!, but the scene is not really like the B99 cause i thought this would suit the undercover quest more but its sort of the same concept!.
synopsis : (the request sent)
Word count : 1.7k+ (idk why its so long either dont ask me)
Riordan verse Masterlist⚜️
You groaned rolling your head back as the aggravating and irritating music hit your ears, an ogre was playing make believe DJ, you can hear its gruesome nails scratching on the pad. You accompanied Leo on a quest to locate an enchanted item used in antient time to help Forge weapon and armors, Both of you settled in the corner of the night club, You leaned back on one of those wrapped cocktail tables, trying to cover Leo behind you, who was working on a machine in order to locate the said item. "Where in the hell did you get these clothes!" You whined tugging on your unnecessary revealing clothes, "Hey!, It took a lot of energy to charm the store lady, Besides, We're in a nightclub atleast we blend in." He rolled his eyes wiping the sweat building on his forehead with the sleeves of his suit, You scoffed, gaze following a few monsters who danced around with the pitiful drunken humans, Particularly on one Laistrygonian Giant who hovered over a woman his hands dropped down to grip the womans hip, licking his lips with hunger in his eyes You wondered what the humans were seeing, Are the Monsters hot with the mist? (wait we're getting off topic). You nudge leo "Are you done?" You hummed, turning back to face him "Hm?, not yet, just needs a few changes" He fiddled around with the wires on the machine, You turned your head back, Blood turning blue when you noticed the Laistrygonian was looking right back at you as its sharp teeth bit into the drunken woman's neck who was squirming around, everyone around them continued dancing as if it was a normal thing, Your eyes widened as The giant glared at you, and looked at the DJ with a nod
"Leo, Leo!, Hurry up, I think-" You tapped leo's shoulder aggressively keeping an eyecontact with the Giant, "Hold on!, I'm Don-" The music became louder, Covering the stomps of the giant walking over to the both of you with furrowed brows. You hurriedly grabbed leo's sleeve, dragging him away making him stumble over a few people "Hey!" a drunk dude grumbled "Sorry!" leo screeched, You dragged leo over to a corridor which was fortunately empty, The both of you panting "You almost made me drop the machine!" He groaned settling down on the floor breathing heavily, “yeah?, would you rather to have died?” You gently hit him in the head “that was unnecessary” a overly dramatic pout covered his face “yes but it was well deserved.” You rolled your eyes snatching the metal device from his hand, a red blinking button on it "Its somewhere here" He hovered behind you, "I know idiot, Look out for monsters" You waved the machine out in the air to try and get the blinking to stop, "You're doing it wrong!" Leo tried to snatch it away from you "I know how to do-" The both of you fought over who gets to use the machine arms intertwined as he kept trying to snatch it back, Until both of your attention was grabbed by the Giant who was all the way at the end of the corridor "Warning, Tall angry dude is coming here!!" "Thanks for stating the obvious, idiot!!" then the Red button finally settled when the giant was just about to strike "Follow me!" You ran towards the door where the machine was pointing to, leo followed "Lock it hurry!" A loud thud could be heard from outside and the giant muttering to themselves "Where do we go now?" leo asked, inside the room were tons of doors, You waved the machine trying to get signal, a loud tugging on the previous door behind could be heard "Just hide!" You grabbed him shoving him in a random room, The room was dimly lit, stairs going down "This is a bad idea!" "What makes you think theres not more monsters there?" He stammered "Just-" You were thinking of a retort but you knew he was right, You hesitated before shrugging him off. "You're really stubborn y'know, Hey!" Leo groaned yet still followed you down the stairs.
The seemingly old stairs creaked under yours and leo's weight, carefully listening for any hits of a monster nearby, The faint noise of.. moaning? could be heard, growing louder as the both of you walk further down the stairs "What the hell?" You cursed under your breath near a laugh, tugging leo's shirt forcing him to keep a straight face so he doesnt attract attention from whoever was there below. Soon enough You were in a wine cellar, with bunch of drunk and horny teenagers who doesnt look a day over 17, there were 5 pairs of couples all scattered throughout the room practically eating each others faces off, "You've got to be kidding me.." You slammed your face, Leo couldn't help but snicker behind "A make out spot hah!" You glared at him forcing your way into the end of the wine cellar, There was no point in being quiet or sneaky though, all those people there were too busy fulfilling their.. Fantasies... "we should do that sometimes" Leo smirked, making you cough, Cheeks growing red and you turned to look at him trying to keep an intimidating face as leo made his hands do a kissy kiss, You rolled your eyes, cheeks a pinkish hue then you "Accidentally" gave him a quick jab to the stomach "Oh oops" "Owh!" he said clutching his stomach, frowning up at you, You examined the wine cellar trying to find any exit but there was none… or as far as you could tell “theres no exit.” You mumbled checking the gaps of the overfilled shelves if there was a way to get out “The monster is close, we have to hide somewhere.” You gave leo back the machine so he could try and figure out whats wrong with it “adam!..” a girl groaned from across the room followed by a growl of a guy “I swear to hades, I’m actually gonna puke” Leo couldn’t contain his laughter anymore
“Dont be dramati-“ Just like that you were cut off, the both of you could hear a door breaking open from upstairs, it wouldn’t take long for the giant to come to the room, the both of you looked at each other and hurriedly searched every corner of the wine cellar for a hope of escaping “nothing!” Leo mouthed from across the room trying to ignore the couple that had their faces basically attached to eachother “Come here! I think i found something!” you mouthed back and he hurriedly ran right back over to you “i think-“ Then a loud crash from the entrance above could be heard all the way to the room below, somehow didn’t attract the humans in the same room, the both of you looked at each other with a knowing look when the old stairs creaked again, the giant was headed down muttering to himself “tsk tsk tsk.” both of you looked at each other and back at the stairs, and you could see a hint of a musty big foot.. both of your eyes widened could no longer speak, "I have a plan.." You said hesitantly cheeks turning red, You could see the giants hip, revealing more of its body as it goes down
"What is it-" Leo was soon cut of when you pulled him by his tie and softly kissed him, You didn't expect the kiss to be soo... passionate?, You could see his eyes widen but went along with you and kissed you back, a hint of pink in his sunkissed skin, You could smell Leo's cologne up close.. It was so intoxicating(in a good way) You guided leo's hands to your waist trying to make it seem more believable, The both of you were clearly flustered, you just hoped that Leo's cologne was strong enough to hide the scent of the both of you, you tried to to focus back on the monster and trying not to melt into the kiss, from the corner of your eye you could see the giant peaking under the stairs examining the room and hissed "Tsk", Suddenly Leo pushed you back into the wall kissing you in a slow and playful rhythm, You were sure you were gonna explode any minute now from embarrassment "Shh, eyes on me." He whispered before taking another kiss, You couldn't tell what was real and what was not anymore, You thought he wanted you to keep your eyes on his so that the giant doesn't notice, right?, I mean this was your plan.. Why are you so flustered right now??? "Its just for the mission" You think to yourself, a hint of vulnerability in your heart, But you snapped back to reality when you felt his heart beating fast through his suit, he still kept tight grip on your waist, his other hand found its way to cup your cheeks, finally after what felt like minutes the giant finally went away with a huff, so the plan did work!, now it was time to stop kissing right?, But leo still hasn't noticed that the giant was long gone, and was still softly kissing you, You pulled away slowly, Your eyes kept in contact as you pulled away with a breathy gasped "Uhm.." "Ehem.." The both of you were flustered, You pulled away from his grasp acting like noting happened, trying to act busy examining the room again for a way out, but your mind could't help but replay the moment in your head, He cant lie and sat he didn't miss the way your lips parted just to kiss him back. Wait, what are you guys thinking? it was just for the mission, nothing else, no feelings attached, right? "Can we atleast talk about it-" Leo mumbled behind you, cheeks flushed, you tried to ignore him checking the shelves once more before finding a hidden button hidden underneath the off brand wine "It was just to blend in.." You finally answered, remembering the words he spoke to you earlier, still feeling embarrassed, not like you can confess when you're in a life and death situation, but still those words hit like a dagger to his heart, Yours especially, denying your feelings for him, oh if only you knew how whipped this boy was for you, There was a hint of disappointment mixed with embarrassment in the air, You couldn't even hold proper eye contact with him without the memories appearing in your mind, and the smell of his cologne lingered. "C'mon, lets get out of here."
Requests!⚜️ Riordan verse Masterlist⚜️
#kept you guys waiting for long enough so here#you go#percy jackson#luke castellan#fanfiction#pjo#leo valdez#pjo fandom#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#jason grace#percy pjo#leo valdez x reader#leo pjo#charles beckendorf x reader#charles beckendorf#percabeth#percy jackson x reader#percy series#percy and grover#percy and annabeth#percy jackon and the olympians#heroes of olympus#luke castellan drabble#luke castellan x reader#leo valdez drabble
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a dream and a dance. hjs.
han jisung x gn!reader — dreaming was a lot harder as an adult than it was back when you were but a small kid. but maybe—just maybe, you could indulge in this dream come true for once.
genre/s — fluff, pinch of angst, post-grad au(?) • 2.0k words
warning/s — alcohol, setting is in a nightclub, life is hard (idk how to explain this)
note — inspired by han's new skz-record: 1,2,3,4,5 ! also i know nothing about nightclubs but this was the theme that came to mind so im just basing off vibes 😭
Dream while you’re still young—while you still can.
Growing up, that line had always been an integral part of your life. You still remember the first time you heard it; the soft hushes of your beloved grandmother as she handed you a bowl of freshly cut fruit on a particularly hot day. The six-year-old you once were was staring at the person behind the television, starry-eyed, as you studied the figure’s actions with intent. You could faintly recall a question being asked in that hushed living room, something along the lines of whether or not you found what they were doing interesting. It was a hazy memory for detailed descriptions, but you could imagine your younger self positively replying with an excited squeal, one fit for a child of that age, which would’ve been followed by the line that you’d have kept in your heart for the rest of your life.
As one would, you’ve cycled through your fair share of these so-called dreams in the duration of your early lifetime. There was a time in third grade where you made up your mind to become a science teacher—the thought quickly being replaced just a mere two years later when you found a sudden interest in becoming a chef. Sixth grade you talked big for their age, claiming that they would open their own restaurant after graduating culinary school, despite not knowing a single thing about cooking other than all the hours spent bingeing MasterChef. You would always get a laugh out of the memory, knowing that it, too, was but a short-lived dream of a young mind still easily impressed by the world around them.
The pattern of switching life aspirations continued past elementary, and throughout your hectic high school years. With the constant new experiences you faced day to day, it was inevitable that eventually you would start seeing everything in a different light. It was part of the maturing process, you’d come to realize a few years later—getting hit by the epiphany that you no longer went through your 24-hour cycle the same way you did back when you were ten. It was a bittersweet revelation, one that ended with you looking up old shows you used to watch and playing episodes until the sunrise before forcing yourself out of bed to get ready for class.
That wasn’t the first time you pulled an all-nighter, but it was the first one that made you feel calm throughout the day despite severely lacking sleep.
College came around, and now you had to face yet another hurdle in your journey: admitting that you had absolutely no idea what you were doing anymore. You were attending university—check. You were in a program you personally chose—check. You had a decent social life—check; or maybe half a point, since you didn’t exactly have much time to hang out with any of them, instead opting for promises of catching up that were slowly building in number but barely decreasing. Before you knew it, the degree life was slowly eating all of the dreams that were left inside of you, leaving you with a semi-paved path completely devoid of color. What was once a garden littered with numerous flowers of the rainbow now had wilted into dehydrated brownish hues, layed lifelessly beside the narrow road.
Perhaps your grandmother was right. Dreaming was a lot harder as an adult than it was back when you were but a small kid.
Still, you pushed through, just to see the end. There was no use turning back when you had already crawled your way up this high. All that was left for you if you did was a fall so hard that you doubt you’d even be able to recover. The image alone made you shiver, prompting you to lift the glass of liquor towards your mouth, letting the sip travel down your throat and feeling the faux warmth it provided. Your eyes shifted to the clock propped up against the bar counter’s wall, watching the hands tick at a uniform pace. It was weird knowing that time always stayed steady. These days, it seemed all over the place—sometimes slowing, sometimes speeding. At this particular moment, it was like a flowing stream.
What kind of pace it was, you weren’t too sure.
What you did know, though, was that the numbers on the clock were barely visible; bright neon LED lights being the only thing illuminating the dark room they called a nightclub. The speakers were blasting some upbeat pop song, entertaining the crowd trying to lose themselves on the dance floor. You could only watch from your bar stool as a girl trips over thin air, obviously a little too inebriated, before getting caught by her friend, who was now fussing over her drunken state.
Burning liquid passed your tongue as you took another sip of your drink. Unlike that girl, you went to this place alone and on your own accord. In your mind, you contemplated why you chose to be here instead of a peaceful bar that didn’t involve a DJ and a dancefloor—but this works too. Maybe a part of you wanted to experience the thrill one last time before adult life completely takes a toll on you, so who were you to deprive yourself of the wish? Your university days had already ended just a few hours ago, with you stepping on stage to get your diploma. It wasn’t a crime to let yourself have fun after all the sacrifices you made for the sake of your damned future.
And so you continued to watch—getting lost in the sea of bright lights and the crashing waves of your thoughts, before a familiar voice snapped you out of the trance you put yourself in.
“What are you doing here, looking all miserable like that?”
You blinked owlishly at the face that entered your line of sight. A face that was very recognizable to you, despite the undoubtedly long time you’ve gone without seeing it.
“Han Jisung?”
“The one and only,” Jisung grins.
“Wow,” you breathed out, completely taken aback at the situation. “I haven’t seen you since our first year of uni! How have you been?”
You and Jisung used to be in the same major before he dropped out right before the start of your second year to pursue music. It would be an absolute lie if you said you didn’t miss him, especially since he was the first friend you ever made in university. You could still recall the moment he approached you in a class like it was yesterday—the Jisung of four years ago scrambling to take a seat after barely just beating the professor entering through the front door. The image of the freshly turned nineteen-year-old panting desperately evoked your concern, causing you to stare at him a little longer than necessary. But it wouldn’t be Jisung if he wasn’t observant, so he returned the stare without an ounce of shame and followed with a question if you had any spare water he could drink.
Luckily, your water bottle had just been filled a few minutes before class started, and thus a beautiful friendship was born.
Jisung took his hands out of his pockets before taking a seat at the empty bar stool to your right. “Life’s been great! Two semesters were enough for me to realize that the academic life just wasn’t for me,” he chuckles. “Oh, and congrats on graduating, by the way!”
You couldn’t help the small smile that found its way to your face at his greeting. “You knew?”
“Ah,” Jisung exclaims, leaning forward to rest his arms on the long table in front while still making eye contact to cement his presence in the conversation. “I attended the ceremony earlier, actually. You know—for Hyunjin and Seungmin. I also watched you stand on stage. That’s why I’m genuinely surprised to see you here like this.”
He looks around for a bit before returning to face you. “Where are your friends?”
You shrugged carelessly, not too bothered with the implication. “Not a clue,” you say with a light chuckle. “Probably out celebrating with their families—or maybe even with each other. Either way, I didn’t get an invite, but I already expected that.”
Jisung simply nods at your reply, and his lack of a reaction amused you more than it should. “And you? Out with Thing 1 and Thing 2?”
“Damn, they still call Seungmin and Hyunjin that? My legacy stood strong, huh?” Jisung barked out a hearty laugh before gesturing somewhere to the side of the club. “But yeah, our group’s over there in one of the sofa cubicles. You can join us if you want; it’s your day too, after all. We should be celebrating!”
You waved his offer away politely. “It’s fine, Jisung. I’m sure they wouldn’t want me crashing in. We’re not even close enough to do that.”
Jisung paused to think for a moment, his hand rising up to support his chin. Your eyes guiltily wander a bit higher, stopping at his rosy lips for a brief second before quickly going back to glare at your glass of liquor.
Admittedly, you once had a crush on the man beside you. Han Jisung was one of the more attractive individuals on campus back then, along with the rest of his friend group. The lingering gazes of people weren’t foreign to you, as you had your fair share of experiences with them when you used to hang out with him. Jisung was simply someone who caught others’ attention, whether it was intentional or not. Of course, you weren’t exempt from that notion. The only difference was that he was a good friend you didn't want to risk losing and that you weren’t interested in dating at that moment. Romance was another dream of yours you couldn’t reach, no matter how much you yearned for it. And so you buried your feelings in a grave, eventually getting forgotten once he left your life.
You could only hope that a zombie apocalypse doesn’t start soon.
“Hm, alright,” he eventually chimes. “I’ll leave you be, soon. But, on one condition.” It was your turn to ponder over his words.
“And what’s your condition, Han?”
Jisung attempts to hide the way he fidgets with his fingers, which you painfully caught on to too fast for your liking. He took a few more seconds to collect himself before sitting up straight and turning towards you to shyly say, “Dance with me?”
Your eyes widened into saucers, not believing what you had just heard. It was in an attempt to calm your racing heart that you accidentally froze into silence, your brain already deciding to keep 911 on standby in case you stopped breathing altogether. You internally cursed yourself for feeling a faint hope spark back in your heart, wishing for the romance you never let yourself indulge in. This wasn’t the time, nor was it the place, that you thought was appropriate to rekindle your teenage wishes.
Unfortunately, your lack of a response made Jisung inhale audibly, seemingly preparing himself to bolt away in embarrassment—if only you hadn’t noticed his actions too, the year of friendship coming back to you to recognize his habit. You quickly willed yourself to spit out any words you could.
"Well, that’s sudden,” you shakily voiced out, but decided to lighten the awkward situation with a cough. “What, think I’m hot now after gaining a few more years?”
Jisung exhaled in relief. “Not exactly,” he rubs the back of his neck, “you were already hot from the beginning.” You roll your eyes at his answer.
“Haha. You think you’re so hilarious, Jisung.”
“That, I do,” he smirks, regaining his confidence. Jisung lifts a hand towards you, opening his palm in an offering gesture. “So, what about that dance?”
You scoffed good-naturedly before taking his hand, pulling him up his seat to drag the two of you towards the center of the establishment that was still as chaotic as you left it earlier.
“Make sure you show me a good time, Jisung.”
“Oh, you won’t be disappointed, Y/N.”
Maybe—just maybe, you could indulge in this dream come true for once.
mastertag 🔖— send in an ask if you want to be added ! 🫶
@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @djeniryuu @lixxpix
#starseungs-library#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#han imagines#han jisung imagines#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#han x reader#han jisung x reader#stray kids fanfic#skz fanfic#han fanfic#han jisung fanfic#stray kids fanfiction#skz fanfiction#han fanfiction#han jisung fanfiction#stray kids fluff#skz fluff#han fluff#han jisung fluff#stray kids#skz#han#han jisung
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Been doing a lot of thinking about Shanks...
And the more I think about him, the likelier I find it that he's could be some kind of antagonistic force. (In my heart of hearts? I don't believe it. But speculation is fun!) This is a bit of a jumbled mess of thoughts, but I figure it'll be interesting to write it down and see how wrong I am at the end of the series.
So, here's two predictions I think are pretty likely:
Luffy will destroy Mary Geoise and, with it, Fishman Island and part of the Red Line—thereby creating the All Blue. (I think this is fairly self-explanatory considering Madame Shyarly's premonition.)
Luffy will find the One Piece, but Buggy will become the Pirate King. (Perhaps becoming the Pirate King has some greater meaning/responsibility that Luffy rejects? Whatever the reason, Buggy seems to be heading in that direction—he's essentially been used as a placeholder before, after all, as a Warlord and Emperor.)
When I think about Shanks' role in the future, it's very foggy. We don't know a lot about Shanks, obviously, but if Buggy is to become the Pirate King, then the way they've juxtaposed him with Shanks is interesting. Shanks and Buggy are, like, opposites in terms of ambition (by which I don't mean what they seek, but how they seek it, and how they feel about their ambitions altogether).
[Important note: There's some great posts (try here, here, here, and here) talking about Shanks and Buggy's history. The gist of it is that Buggy never truly believed in himself because of Shanks' obvious potential; that Shanks was a bit of a bully, intentional or not; and that Buggy set his sights on a lesser treasure, never aiming for the OP because of Shanks' existence—only for Shanks give up on heading to Laugh Tale, their dream, altogether.]
Shanks was always the one considered to be Roger's successor; he was the one who got the hat. He shared his aspirations with Buggy, promising they'd go to Laugh Tale together—and then gave it all up when Roger returned from Laugh Tale. Which, of course, hurt Buggy tremendously, alongside all of Shanks' other transgressions (such as the mishap with the Devil Fruit, and losing Buggy's treasure map).
Buggy's feelings for the hat, and for Shanks, sour and complicate as their lives go on, even as they find distance from one another. While I do think Shanks has a lot of regret for what happened with Buggy, he tries to look toward the future, hence the importance of Roger's legacy and the straw hat. Buggy, of course, knows the importance of the straw hat more than anyone—it's why he's so furious to see Luffy with it.
Keeping Buggy in mind, Shanks' meeting Luffy becomes more interesting. He gives up the straw hat he loves (that Buggy loves) to a little boy he supposedly loves—but why? Because he sees Roger in Luffy, because he believes Luffy is The One, or because Luffy ate the legendary fruit? Would Shanks, in a universe where Luffy wasn't chosen by the Gum–Gum Fruit, give up his arm to save Luffy? Would he give Luffy the hat? A classic question. I mean, I like to think that he would—I think Shanks comes across as a sentimental, kind man, if a little rough around the edges—but I don't know so.
Besides, simply giving Luffy the hat could be construed as an antagonistic act, as it potentially puts a target on Luffy: the right people will know whose hat that is, and will wonder why he has it. Oda frames it as an inheriting of wills, but it's not like he's not retconned things before! Either way, the feelings Buggy must have when he sees the hat not on Roger, not on Shanks, not on himself—but on Luffy? Some random kid? Fuck.
Fact of the matter is that we all know Shanks saved Luffy, in part, because Luffy ate the fruit. But what if that was the sole reason? What if Shanks saved Luffy simply because he knew that Luffy, as Mika, was the only one who could find/use the One Piece? Perhaps Shanks' plan is to use Luffy to grab power for himself. In a story about governmental oppression and the corruption of those in absolute power, it doesn't seem too far off. Especially if Shanks' past and his mistakes have warped him a little.
Extrapolating from what little we know of Shanks, and of Joy Boy and the Void Century, I'm not sure what Oda will do. The basic possibilities, as I see them, are:
Shanks is an ally to Luffy and gives himself up for Luffy's sake. Perhaps he dies while helping Luffy, potentially before they've had a chance to meet again. (I can see him dying in the fight against Blackbeard or Mary Geoise, for instance.) Or perhaps Oda makes it rhyme: perhaps he's sick like Roger, or something, and he acts in sacrifice, the way Roger did in unleashing the Great Pirate Era.
Shanks acts as an obstacle for Luffy to fight in pursuit of the OP. I think this one makes the least sense because the only reason I could see Shanks doing this is to test Luffy, but he already knows that Luffy is Joy Boy, so there's no point.
Shanks is antagonistic, but has a change of heart! By which I mean: Luffy does it again, folks! Shanks is using Luffy as a means to dismantle to world order, after which he can seize a lot of power for himself—but Luffy persuades him against it. (Look, this doesn't make sense with the Shanks I envision, but what do I know, huh?)
Shanks is the antagonist. I mean, I guess we don't know his background, do we? People have long suspected he's of noble birth, having been found in God Valley. Regardless of whether he's working for or against the World Gov, we have no idea how powerful Shanks really is. And, if he's got less than noble ambitions, a small, trusted crew makes sense, I suppose. Yet Blackbeard fills this role pretty neatly: a tale of betrayal in pursuit of power, playing the long game, etc.
Shanks doesn't die and everything is hunky-dory. Look, I don't want my favourite swashbuckling drunkard to die, but this sounds pretty boring, doesn't it? Shanks guides Luffy right to the finish line and everyone cheers! "The One Piece is the friends we made along the way! Yeah!"
SO, what do I actually think is going to happen?
I don't know. This is a mess. I have so many more thoughts but this is already too long. Send help.
(something about how shanks not wanting to become the king perfectly sets up buggy to take the position... something about luffy denying becoming king for freedom-related reasons... something about shanks potentially changing his mind and chasing the one piece because of the promise he made with buggy... something about how shanks never got to give the hat back to roger, so it would make sense if luffy also can't return the hat, and thus gives it to buggy instead... something about buggy finally getting closure... )
#idk what i'm talking about honestly#i just have a lot of thoughts#and feelings#this is NOT succinct and I am NOT okay#buggy's jealousy of shanks translates to luffy#and that's partly why him becoming PK as a stand-in for luffy makes sense#imagine luffy giving buggy the hat...#also I am NOT caught up to OP I'm just autistic as fuck and don't care about spoilers#one piece#text post#character study#shanks#buggy the clown#monkey d. luffy#one piece meta#my posts#shuggy#kinda
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I know I've twisted myself into a goddamn pretzel the past five or so years trying not to be 'too much' and backing off when I am
but
A good deal of why I started the #dr literacy tag is precisely because of this- I am beyond tired and fed up, with the kinds of things that people have ignored and left on my back- whether it's to do with Kokichi, or V3 overall. It's easy to deflect and call me 'delusional', and five years later never even consider the implications of having called me that over what I've been trying to grapple with, much less apologise to me sincerely and genuinely try to understand where I'm coming from and why it's so hard to discuss in the first place- not to mention why it's so easy to make mistakes not least because the way Kodaka plays with themes can be decidedly insensitive (and I was clearly out of my depth with that when I started this blog)
This isn't about all of you. A good number of people here have been wonderful about this, even if they don't understand all too well. But frankly such people are the exception rather than the rule, and the rule is that people don't bother to interrogate their own biases about Kokichi, or really grapple with the way him and V3's narrative might be constructed with bias. And this unwillingness to accept ambiguity and nuance results in some genuinely hurtful behaviour towards people who try to point out that, maybe, not everything was even his fault, or that his character and situation is far more layered than it appears on a first run of the game. Or even a second, or third.
So I'm gonna need people in that camp to swear that you'll do better about this going forward. No really. This situation I've been in didn't come out of nowhere, and while I've beaten the proverbial horse to death that I haven't always been fair or reasonable either, that does not mean I should just back myself into a wall and take the status quo that is 'Tsumugi is telling the truth and Kokichi is just a clown' as a 'fact of canon'. Because there's a very good chance that that might not even be true, and that there's even more tangled messes Kodaka left in the text to unpack that you never even thought of, and that really NEED extra care and nuance to fully understand.
I know you're probably sick of hearing this from me by now. But this is an issue that can never be helped until it's faced head on, and the effect of basically being pathologised over it (due to *checks notes* autism), is seriously damaging- the inability of people to address things as serious issues and themes rather than 'just the pet theory that came out of my nutty head', is something I cannot, on principle, force myself to accept. So please just think about the way you're approaching issues in the future. I will try to do the same.
#kokichi ouma#dr literacy#general fandom#no for real#I literally had someone tell me verbatim#'back away from the keyboard there's enough autism out here'#one of the friends of the person who called me 'delusional'#as if 'gullible' (while still wrong) was even CLOSE to that level#I'm not gonna stop being annoying about this it was WRONG#it was WRONG and I did NOT have to deal with the aftermath#of being cast as 'crazy and delusional' over things I did wrong#and over things that you didn't WANT to question in yourself#over how YOU were treating Kokichi and fans of him#who thought DIFFERENTLY about his actions than you#actions that we do not even SEE all of for that matter#just Own Up.#own up and do BETTER. peace#i just want to close this book but it never stop affecting me#and Idk if the person responsible for a lot of this will see it#but it's worth a shot anyway#again sorry the long rant#dangan salt team#ableism#Again.
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the albatross - m. murdock
a/n: hi everyone! so this is that weird and off putting reader i was mentioning earlier! she's not that weird but she's sort of odd so yeah. also i know bucky is the winter soldier but idk how else to tag this so oh well! i do have lore and stuff for readers time as a soldier so i'll include that in later installments! i was kind of in a writers block and this pushed me out of that. so enjoy! please please tell me what you thought and if you want more!
warnings: cursing, mentions of death, war, torture, pain, people being dead, reader having horrible people skills and ptsd, mentions of sex maybe? uhmmm in general reader is just sort of strange and this is her and matt's early relationship, so sorry if i missed anything !
word count: 3.6k
summary: you have spent the past ninety (give or take) years tortured and in pain. then, a handsome stranger comes into your life and changes everything.
pairing: matt murdock x winter soldier!fem!reader
now playing: the albatross - taylor swift
"i'm the albatross/i swept in at the rescue/the devil that you know/looks now more like an angel/i'm the life you chose/and all this terrible danger"
You’re working a morning shift at the bakery when he comes in. The pastries in the case are laid out just so, and you have been meticulously working on this sign for your fall specials. You are determined to focus on something that is not how poorly you slept, your hair tied up in a braid behind you as you work.
You’re determined to get these pumpkin stems drawn correctly; a green marker clenched in your hand. Your knuckles are white with the tension you are holding in your fingers. It’s around eight in the god damn morning, and you have been awake since around three a.m.
You don’t even hear the bell ring, nor do you hear the click-clacking of a cane on the tiled floors, you only hear an awkward clearing of the throat, to which you spin around, about to throw the marker at the customer, but stopping when you realize what you’re doing.
The customer smiles awkwardly at you, and you recognize instantly that between his glasses and cane, he is most definitely blind. You almost feel silly, until you remember everything, and you wish that there was more moments where you think you’re silly for being paranoid.
And there’s something else, too. You look at this man for a few moments, before realizing that he is so god damn hot. Which, is weird, because you have not felt anything for any man or woman in years, too busy focusing on other things, too busy thinking about everything that’s happened. But god, the stubble tracing his face, the way his dark hair falls, and the way his hand wraps around his cane..
But what gets you really is his lips. Maybe you’re staring, maybe you don’t care. But his lips are this pretty pink, and you find yourself getting lost in the nicest daydream you’ve had in a very long time..
And then, you snap out of that fantasy to remind yourself that you are working and don’t even know his name.
“Hi, sorry,” You cough awkwardly, “Was just focused,” You tell him, approaching the counter. You wipe your sweaty hands on your apron, before putting on your best ‘I’m a friendly bakery worker who just wants to sell you pastries, also tip me please!’ smile on. “What can I get you?” You ask.
“Do you guys have apple turnovers?” It is the first time this fall that is under 65 degrees, so you understand that there is some cravings for autumn snacks.
“Yeah, yeah,” You move towards the case to get some, “Just the one?”
“Three, actually. For the office.” He hums.
“Some big office,” Your voice is a sarcastic mumble, not really for the an to hear but he chuckles at it, and you almost think it’s weird that he an hear you but your brain tells you not to judge, since there is a whole lot the handsome stranger could judge you for.
“We’re a small business. Very friendly, very personable.”
You cannot help yourself, and you find yourself asking, “What sort of business are you in?” What the handsome stranger does not know is that you are insatiably angry at yourself for asking that because you had pretty much promised yourself that you were never going to have any sort of relationship—it wouldn’t be fair to them, it wouldn’t be fair to you. And as previously established, that wasn’t a problem, because you weren’t really attracted to anyone before this handsome stranger waltzed on into the bakery.
“I’m a lawyer.” He smiles. A lawyer.
“Well, Mr. Lawyer, your total is 10.75.” He pulls out a twenty and when you hand him change, he asks, “Which one is the five?” and you wordlessly pull out the five from the stack you handed him, before he puts the rest of the change in his wallet, dropping a five and a small card into your tip jar. “You have a good day now.” He hums, before making his way out of the bakery.
You watch intently, maybe a little too intently, and you hear the voice of your best friend from your teenage years in your head saying, ‘You hate to see him go, but you love to watch him leave.’ And a small smile finds its way to your face.
Then, you notice the card he dropped in the jar before fishing it out. On the front, it reads,
‘Matthew M. Murdock, Attorney at Law.’ On the back, you read,
‘Nelson, Murdock & Page, Attorneys at Law,
Hell’s Kitchen’
Accompanied by this is a phone number and an address.
You pocket the card, and before you know it, costumers are flooding in, and you ease into the day, forgetting about the handsome stranger until you leave the bakery at around six o’clock that night. You finish cleaning up from the day before letting the woman who works to prep for the next day. Then you leave, heading home to the too quiet, too small apartment.
You don’t have much in your apartment. You sleep with a gun under your pillow and you have a cheap TV on your dresser. You spend most of your time catching up on books or movies. You make yourself box mac and cheese before eating it right out of the pot, sitting on your kitchen floor.
As you cook the mac and cheese, you say his name over and over again, letting it sit on your tongue and escape your lips, thinking about him intently. You glance at your watch and decide that maybe it’s early enough that he might still be at his office.
You fish your tiny flip phone out of your pocket, dialing the number on the card and waiting. You’re holding your breath as the phone rings. A thought runs through your brain that maybe he gave you a wrong number and then your brain immediately reminds you that no man is ever going to give you his card, printed out, just to fuck with you.
“Nelson, Murdock & Page, how can I help you?” A voice asks, and you blink, hesitating for a minute.
“Uh, I’m looking for Matthew.” You say, and there’s some light shuffling, and again, this regret shoots over you until you hear a very smooth, very familiar voice,
“Hey,” His voice is like honey and you long to hear it clearer—The first time you’ve desired a better phone. “I was hoping you’d call.”
“Yeah, well, Maybe I just like the sound of your voice.”
“You know usually, that’s my line.”
“Wait, that works on people?” You hear his laugh on the other side of the phone and a shiver runs down your spine as you itch to make him laugh more.
“Telling people they’re beautiful doesn’t hit the same when you’re blind.”
“I guess not..” There’s a silence on his end of the phone, before he says,
“I never got your name.” For a moment, you consider giving him a fake name, but you find yourself giving him your name, the one that your parents gave you all those years ago. It’s foreign on your lips, a rare gem that you do not often give out. He repeats it and you swear you could almost die right then and there. “What are you doing tonight?”
You’re taken back by his forwardness, not anticipating that maybe this handsome stranger, Matthew, wants to be around you just as bad as you want to be around him. And then you look around at your dingy apartment, with your boxy TV, the gun under your pillow, and you, sitting on the floor of your kitchen, having just finished eating box mac and cheese with a wooden spoon that just for a second tastes like the one your mother used to cook with, the one you’d get tastes of sauces, soups, anything you could get your hands on.
And then you remember everything that happened after those days sneaking tastes of your mom’s cooking and you feel guilty for pursuing handsome Matthew, because he has no idea what he is getting into.
“Just finished dinner. Was planning on just relaxing.” Reading until around midnight and then getting an hour or two of sleep.
“Well, how about we go do something?” You detect a bit of hopefulness in his voice. You find yourself asking before you can stop yourself,
“Like, like a date?” And he laughs again.
“Yes, like a date.”
“I don’t know,” You start, “Usually I have to ask my father’s permission before I go out on the town with a boy.” You want to slap your hand over your mouth because you sound your age. Oh god.
“Really?”
“..No.” You hope he finds your weird, totally not a cover up, joke funny. And he laughs again, telling you,
“You’re funny.”
Yeah, really fucking hilarious.
“So, a date?”
“A date.” You consider this for a moment. A date might lead somewhere real. Somewhere dangerous. Somewhere you haven’t been in.. years. Years might be an understatement. Your heart thuds against your chest, and you find yourself full of that nostalgic thing you call desire.
“What would we do?”
“Anything you want.” He tells you.
“Anything? That’s dangerous.” Because this whole thing is dangerous, you want to tell him, maybe you should mention the whole age thing, the whole assassin thing, the whole brainwashing thing, the whole thing.
“Yeah? What dangerous things do you have in mind, doll?” You have to hold the phone away from your ear to breathe, because it feels like someone just took the winds out of your sails. Suddenly it is 1940 something and a boy is flirting with you, and you have to act like a lady in hopes that he will treat you right.
Odd thing to think about today, but you’re an odd person.
“What about ice cream and a bookstore?” You ask, and for a moment you want to hit yourself for not suggesting something cool like a club or something and then you realize that you have no idea what counts as a cool date in this day and age.
Did you know when you were a teenager and had the world at your fingertips, eighty (give or take) years ago?
But to your surprise, handsome Matthew just responds,
“That sounds nice. Do you want me to pick you up at your apartment?”
The idea of handsome Matthew being at your tiny apartment that is not suitable for a date makes your heart race.
“I’ll meet you at the ice cream place in an hour. You know the one near the bakery?”
“Yeah. See you then.”
“Yeah. See you.” And when you hang up, you realize just what has happened. For the first time since 1944, You have landed yourself a date with a handsome man that is genuinely interested in you and in your infinite wisdom decided that ice cream and books were the best way to impress him.. Books.. Blind man.
You lightly bang your head against the counter behind you, muttering to yourself how stupid that was. But you an only dwell on it for a moment before you are standing up and making your way over to your room to get ready.
You’re still in your work uniform. And you look like an idiot. So, you clean yourself up and pull on something presentable, something comfortable. There is no confusion as to the nature of this meet up, you two are going on a date and you asked a blind man to go to a bookstore. You feel like an asshole. And you’re aware that you’re putting emphasis on that, but still!
You go through outfits and outfits, trying to figure out what an appropriate outfit is for this first date. You end up in something casual, and you hope you’re not underdressed. Honestly, you know you’re making a fuss over something as standard as a date, but you are genuinely desperate to have this go well.
You finally decide on an outfit and make your way out the door, grabbing your jacket and stepping out of the apartment. You stop outside of your door before turning around and going back into your room to change your top.
But eventually, you do get to the ice cream place Matt and you had discussed on the phone. And there he is, in all his glory, wearing the same outfit he wore when you saw him in the bakery that morning, only, without his tie, and he looks more disheveled. Somehow it’s more charming to see him like this, more exhilarating to imagine a life with such a low stakes man (You’ll look back on this thought later and laugh)
“Hi,” You greet, and Matt smiles in your direction.
“Hi.” He hums, and again, you feel nervous! So, before he can say much else, you blurt out,
“So, This is my first date in a while.. So. Sorry about that.” You say awkwardly.
“A while?” He asks, tilting his head like a curious dog. You’re struck by the fact that he is around 70 years younger than you. “Like, a few months?”
A beat.
Handsome Matthew is much busier than you are, it seems.
“More like a couple of years.” And by ‘a couple’ you mean eighty some odd years, but Matt doesn’t need to know all of that right now. But he just hums and nods, before answering,
“That’s alright, I’ll be gentle.” Your face flushes, and with a nervous laugh, you ask,
“You mean we’ll take it slow?”
“Sure. Whatever. We’ll figure out the details of it all later.” His hand finds yours, and before you can protest he pulls you into the ice cream shop. Handsome Matthew orders chocolate chip cookie dough because he is perfect in every way, and you order..
“Butter pecan, please.” You get odd glances from Matthew and the seventeen year old minimum wage worker behind the counter, but neither of them say anything. You manage to beat Matthew to paying for the ice cream, and as you walk, he asks,
“Butter pecan? Really?” And you roll your eyes. Young people today, always judging.
“You’re lucky they didn’t have butterscotch, that’s my real favorite.” You respond, before taking a lick of the ice cream. Your handsome date, gives you another bizarre look.
“Okay, what’s your third favorite ice cream flavor?”
“Mm..” You take a few minutes to think about it, before deciding on your answer. “A tie between pistachio and coffee.” And at your answer, Matt laughs at you. You let out an offended gasp, although you’re not being serious, before asking, “what’s so horrible about that?”
“You have the ice cream preferences of an eighty year old,” He laughs and you laugh too, because oh, if only he knew.
“Sorry, my pallet is straight from the 40’s.” It’s a joke. That’s a joke. Not at all based in facts or actuality. You continue working through eating your ice cream and talking to your handsome date. “So, does the handsome lawyer have any family I should know about?”
“You think I’m handsome?” He grins, and your face flushes.
“Answer the question.”
“No siblings. My dad died when I was young and It’s only recently that I’ve been talking to my mother.” Interesting, you think, and then this dawning realization happens where you realize that the next thing out of his mouth will be the inevitable question, “How about your family?”
You consider lying but you decide against it. If this is going to lead anywhere good, you don’t want to base it off lies.
“Not much to say. I’m the sole survivor.” You shrug, keeping it vague. He frowns a bit before squeezing your hand.
“A couple of orphans, huh?”
You squeeze his back.
“Seems like it.”
You kind of aren’t over the death of your parents and your siblings and quite literally everyone you knew as a teenager and young adult—You’re not over so many fucking things that if you went through it all, you’d probably keep poor Handsome Matthew up all night.
But instead of talking about that, Matt finds himself walking with you to the bookstore. You hold the door open for him and begin to wander. You quickly move past the books on World War II, as if faced with an ex you want nothing to do with them.
You begin to look at the romance books, scrunching your nose at how cheesy and surface level so many of these young adult novels are. But then you remind yourself that you are a hundred years old. But you look like you’re in your late twenties, early thirties. As you’re looking at the books, Matthew makes his way to the aisle next to yours, and talks to you through the stacks.
“So, what’s your favorite book?”
“That’s like asking a mother her favorite child.” You answer quickly, and you hear him laugh. Your face flushes.
“Try for me.”
“Uh, I really love Great Gatsby. I’m kind of fascinated with the zombie genre, too, it’s sort of new and interesting, and uh, oh, I read this Neil Gaiman novel, uh, Stardust? I really liked that.” You confess. Matt listens as you fumble through novels, both of you making your way towards the end of the aisle.
“And movies?”
“Why is everything about me? I didn’t hear your favorite novel.”
“The Outsiders.” He responds, and you make a mental note to try and find it in the bookstore. “So, movies?”
You’ve had autonomy for around three years now, so.. Your movie knowledge has been kind of stunted, so you wrack your brain to try and come up with something impressive.
“I really like the Indiana Jones series, uh, oh, The Matrix, and..” You ponder your brain. “Oh! And King Kong!” You saw that one in the theatres for your thirteenth birthday.
“Like, the one that came out in 2017?” He asks, and again, you consider lying, because you actually have seen that one because when you looked up ‘King Kong’ it came out, and it really blew your mind how far CGI had come.
“No, the one that came out in ’33.” As if it is the most normal thing in the entire world.
“One of your favorite movies is one from 1933?” And the old woman in you wants to insist that you loved the decades you grew up in, and that seeing King Kong in the theatres was a marvelous thing because you could barely afford rent. And then you remember you shouldn’t reveal your history with the Great Depression to a man you’re on your first date with.
“Yup.” You assert, and ask, “You?”
“Star Wars, any of them, and the Princess Bride.” Again, you make a note to add it to your list.
“Interesting.” You hum, and you find The Outsiders, wanting to read it, to consume it, to consume him, and every thought he has. The two of you meet at the end of the aisle, too close to be platonic as his hands come to find your arms, and you shudder at the affection.
“Touch starved, huh?” He grins. You flush and roll your eyes.
“You’re so mean.” You huff, and he laughs. His hand moves up your arms and cups your jaw, enjoying the feeling of your warm cheeks.
“Well, you’re odd.”
“Odd?”
“Everything about you. Your movie tastes, your jokes, your ice cream flavors.” He hums, with a soft shrug. “It’s not a bad thing, I’m just.. Trying to figure you out.”
“You’d be the first to accomplish such a feat.”
He laughs at that, and he’s so beautiful.. That you cannot help yourself when you lean up and gently press a soft kiss to those beautiful pretty pink lips that had caught your attention that morning. He kisses you back, without hesitation.
You feel at peace for the first time in years, as if everything you had gone through, every moment of torture and pain, has been worth it because it leads you to this. To Handsome Matthew, who kisses you so tenderly that no matter how simple it is, you are left breathless and desperate for more. You lean into him, deepening the kiss, pushing him back a bit, his back pressed against the stacks. The book in your hands is crumpled, and eventually, Matthew pulls away, before pushing you back a bit.
“Easy,” He says breathlessly, and you need the reminder, because you try to catch your breath. Holy shit. “Easy, easy..” he repeats, his hands rubbing up and down your arms a bit. “I’ve got you, just breath.” He laughs, and you lean your forehead against your shoulder. Fuck.
“When can I see you again?” Is your only thought, and he chuckles gently.
“Whenever you want.” He promises, and you nod, before leaning up to kiss him again.
One day you’ll tell him everything. You’ll tell him all of the horrible things you’ve done and have had done to you, and you’ll tell him why the nightmares came, and why they won’t ever go away. One day, you’ll tell handsome Matthew why you sleep with a gun under your pillow and why you have no family and why you are so odd.
For now, you decide that you deserve a few nice things.
And when he kisses back, you realize that maybe he is just as infatuated with you as you are with him. Maybe. Maybe he is full of secrets and his own horrors that plague him while he sleeps, and maybe that’s the unspoken reason you are so deeply fascinated with one another.
Maybe.
Maybe you’ve spent the past ninety years going from fight to fight, to nightmare to nightmare. Maybe you’re owed some time in the sun with Handsome Matthew.
Maybe.
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x y/n#daredevil fic#daredevil fanfiction#matt murdock fic#daredevil#matt murdock fluff#winter soldier!reader#tortured reader#super soldier reader#matt murdock fanfiction#daredevil fluff#daredevil x reader#netflix daredevil#matt murdock fanfic
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Just Business?
Pairing: Alastor x Carmine!Reader
Part 2 to this imagine
Technically Part 3 if you wish to include these headcanons
Requested by @lokis-imaginary-friend: If you’re not averse to it I had a thought while reading this….what if y/n overheard this conversation and feels as though she’s being treated as a transaction. Idk I could just see some angst coming from this for y/n followed by whatever fluff you come up with.
Additional tags: @martinys-world
Fluff will come in a later chapter (hopefully). Enjoy!
You walked home with a spring in your step. You were happy to find the perfect set of pajamas for your boyfriend. Alastor didn't require much sleep, based on the nights you spent together and he'd spend most of them watching you, lurking among the swamp in his room, or tending to the hotel. Regardless, you knew he wanted to look his best even at more casual hours like bedtime. It was great then that you found the red silk pajamas that were perfect for him, especially since you found a matching robe that reminded you of his regular attire.
It'd been about six months since you'd been together and things were going well. Now that things were public too, you enjoyed your time more freely. The fact you two were going out interested many people, with gossip of it being all over the news. Thankfully, the paparazzi weren't stupid enough to film your dates. They must've heard the screams of that one photographer who was bold enough to sneak a photo of you on a picnic date by the Lake of Fire. Alastor was sure to broadcast his torment over a rendition of La Vie En Rose as a reminder not to intrude on your alone time.
You knew the kind of man/demon Alastor was before you became a couple. You heard the stories as well as his broadcasts. You were there during the sudden disappearances of various overlords and how it coincided with said broadcasts. No sane sinner would want to risk getting involved with someone like him. Due to how more curious than afraid of him you were and how touched and important you felt whenever Alastor threatened others who disrespected you, you had an inkling that your sanity wasn't all there. That was okay with you; you were already in Hell.
Your mother approved of him as did your sisters, which resulted in another reason you grew to love him. He enjoyed spending time with your family, too, judging from how he'd come to dinner, joke with Clara and Odette, and share light pleasantries with Carmilla. You could see they were really warming up to him and vice versa.
You might not have tamed the beast, but it certainly amazed you how much of him you got to have for yourself. It was almost too good to be true.
You were finally home after spending some time at the mall. You don't know why your mother needed you out of the house but you didn't question it. She was sometimes wary of those who did business with the family and would rather let herself handle things. If she was still talking with them, you'd do your best to sneak into your room.
Upon entering the manor, however, you heard your mother say some things that made your ears perk up:
"You won't do anything unless you know it'll benefit you. It's why you're with my daughter in the first place, right?"
Her daughter? Who exactly was she talking about, and to whom?
Her voice was coming from the library it seemed. You did your best to creep over and stood outside to hear more. What came next was certainly a shock:
"Y/N is quite a lovely lady with a certain sweetness and intelligence that I find endearing. If she so happens to come from a powerful family, then who am I to not want to get closer to someone who can mean a lot to me?"
You felt sick to your stomach just then. What was that; did you hear that correctly? He made it sound like you were just a pet to him - a mere plaything with a purpose.
A humiliating desire to cry swept through you, along with a small hope that your mother would put him in his place. She wouldn't take someone using her daughter lightly.
"If I were you, I'd do the same, I suppose,"
Now that's what brought out the tears.
What the hell was going on?
"You'll continue to treat her well. You'll continue to meet her, talk with her, and if it gets to that point, marry her."
Breathing became difficult as this unexpected betrayal weighed on your broken heart. Was this all just a plan between Alastor and your mother? Was this all a big matchmaking con that would lead to good benefits for them?
"You're smart enough to know that you should treat this like any other transaction."
You never thought your mother would have the gall to sacrifice your happiness for business purposes. She was always the type to lay her life on the line for you and your sisters. She did just that during the last Extermination Day when facing a team of Exorcists. To hear that the woman you grew up admiring treated you like a piece of property was too much to handle.
Let's not forget about Alastor! You actually believed he cared about you. Were all those times you went out on lunch and dinner dates, spent time with each other's loved ones, and shared intimate dances just part of a ruse to get you to fall for him? The fact you were nothing but entertainment with benefits saddened and embarrassed you because what everyone said about him was right.
You were right; this was all just too good to be true.
You now were fueled with anger and decided to use it to confront the two traitors.
"A transaction?"
Upon hearing your voice, Carmilla and Alastor turned towards the doorway where you stood defiantly with the Carmine glare on your face. Your normally well-composed mother expressed more worry than you ever saw her with. Meanwhile, Alastor kept his large grin as usual, but you could tell he was shocked due to how big his eyes were, and it almost looked too painful for him to smile.
"Y/N-"
"Is that all I am to the two of you?" You asked, blinking back tears. "A business deal - just a prize to be won? Is that why you needed me out of the house Mom? To discuss my dowry?"
Carmilla's astonishment kept her from speaking. She wanted to explain that this was simply a way to assure you a good future if you continued things with Alastor and that no harm would come to you, but she was at a loss for words seeing how betrayed you looked.
"And you Alastor!" You rounded on him next. The man you loved for half a year but now don't even know what to make of him. He's practically a stranger now. "I knew you weren't a saint, but I didn't think you'd stoop so low as to only date me for my family. I can't believe you'd use me like that!"
"Y/N," he began, getting out of his seat to go towards you with more emotion than you ever saw him, even with his smile remaining. "Sweetheart, you misunderstand -"
"You saw me as nothing but a prize," you uttered quietly, backing away from him with your head down. "You already have connections to the throne, so it's best to protect it with your connection to the biggest collection of weapons in Hell, right?"
His silence spoke to you more than any clever words he could conjure up for you. His silence spoke the truth.
You didn't stay much longer, especially since neither could bother to give you a proper response. You ran out of the house, ignoring their pleas to stay. You needed to get away and reflect on everything.
Alone.
#alastor x reader#alastor x you#alastor imagine#hazbin hotel alastor x reader#alastor fanfiction#hazbin alastor x reader#imagine#request#sequel fic#carmilla carmine#x reader#angst#carmine!reader#hazbin#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor
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AAAAAAND WERE BACK with more Subway to Stardew silliness NSNNDD.
Thank you to the folks over at @subwaytostardew for making this wonderful mod and letting me make silly art about it lol.
In any case time for some headcannon nonsense.
(click for better quality because Tumblr makes it crunchy)
If Stardew Valley were to have a box legendary I think it would be Cresselia. It's literally Lunar pokemon and represents the crescent moon so it being the patron legendary of Stardew Valley just makes a lot of sense to me. Also Cresselia is underrated NSNDN.
Maybe there would be a secret special encounter for Darkrai. (the other half of it and Cresselia's duo but is a mythical for some reason?)
Also the Lunar wing would be very neat item to have in-game ANSNDND.
If it were to exist within the mod I imagine the farmer would be like "oooo shiny feather. Maybe it's a pokemon feather? Emmet/Ingo would probably like it :D" so then they make it into a necklace, or maybe just give it to one of them outright without knowing what it is. So Emmet/Ingo sees it and just starts freaking the hell out cause their crush/friend just gave them a piece of a literal legendary pokemon meanwhile the farmer is just....clueless NSNDND.
Now onto some of the other characters.
As basically the resident nurse joy of Pelican Town I think Harvey would have some pokemon common in the medical field. Though, pokemon like Chansey and Audino don't really fit his whole "whiskey neat, coffee black, bed at three"/ref vibes so I thought Indeedee would be best NSNDNND.
I also decided to give some pokemon to the characters mentioned within my ask.
Willy is very fond of water types, clearly NSNS. Specifically fish pokemon like Lanturn, Seaking, Whiscash, Wishiwashi, or Dondozo. (Though his actual team probably has a good chunk of pokemon that are still water type just not fish lmao) The crowning jewel of his collection is a shiny Magikarp he fished up. Maybe one day it will evolve, but for now it just swims around the docks next to his house entertaining anyone that visits.
He also has a Bibarel. (which I imagine is the grown up version of that one Bidoof that snuck into Pelican Town) It acts more like an overgrown housecat than a battle ready pokemon but it is incredibly bulky so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.
Morris also has a few pokemon of his own. Most of which he keeps at home. But his main two he's seen with is a Gimmighoul and a Gumshoos. (IDK he just has Gumshoos vibes to me NSNDNND) They run around Joja pickpocketing people's gold cause Morris is just a dick like that.
"It's Wizard time mother fucker, FIREBALL-"/ref
Wizard likes psychic types, but I like to think he also has a fondness for fairy types too. Also, most of em has at least one strong fire type move just so he has an excuse to yell "fireball" and blast something NSND. His Malamar is named Illithid (a wack squid monster guy from DnD lol)
Sandy likes rock types, given that she lives in a desert it's probably the only type of pokemon she sees on the daily lol. She also has a key stone on her earring. With how colorful a keystone is when compared to sand I think she would be the most likely to find one there. Idk exactly if she'd mega evolve an Aerodactyl or a Tyranitar, if any pokemon at all. But I think she'd carry it around regardless. It's pretty :]
Also she has a shiny Rockruff. I don't rly have an explanation for that one I think it just fits the vibe lol.
And now, shenanigans.
Emmet then proceeds to grab the child and just.... speed walk away HSBBDBDJJR.
That's all I have for now, I'll probably throw some other pokemon at the bachelorettes and other bachelors another time but this alone took a solid week due to finals 😭/lh
Time for me to go to bed lol, have a good one 👍
#fanart#digital art#stardew valley#subwaytostardew#subway master emmet#subway bosses#subway boss emmet#subway boss ingo#subway master ingo#pokemon emmet#ingo and emmet#emmet and ingo#alternate universe#harvey stardew valley#stardew harvey#vincent stardew valley#morris stardew valley#wizard stardew#wizard stardew valley#willy stardew valley#sandy stardew valley#pokemon ingo#cresselia#indeedee#magikarp#gimmighoul#gumshoos#bibarel#malamar#rockruff
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Thought of a cute yet angst kind of drabble so here it is!
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Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader
Genre: angst, smut
Word Count: idk I forgor 💀
Summary: Jungkook made you mad so what's better than trying to communicate with his girlfriend? Bringing a huge boombox to her house to beg for her forgiveness.
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Okay. You have to admit.
Maybe you were being a little bit extra with what's going on, but who can blame you?
Your boyfriend of five years wasn't exactly ugly and you were a little insecure with how any woman throws themselves on him. So when you both went on a date weekend to the movies and he did absolutely nothing to stop his ex from hugging him and flirting, it irked you a little.
Well, a lot.
Enough to argue with him the whole ride home and block him on everything because he doesn't see his wrongs.
However, Jungkook did manage to find ways to try to talk to you by making fake accounts and stealing his friend's phones to text you.
You just needed space for a bit and that was okay, right?
Wrong.
So wrong because you missed him so much.
His smile.
His laugh.
The way he treated you like a princess out in public and in bed.
Because of your actions, you had to suffer the consequences.
Beside your bed was your newly charged vibrator that you bought before your fight with Jungkook so he could use it on you.
Before you have a chance to even think of using it, a knock is heard at your window along with two thumps that sound like pebbles. Your brows furrow when you leave bed to look outside your window to see your boyfriend standing outside.
"What are you doing?" You sigh when you open your window.
Jungkook looked tired and confused, but he had to get you back in his good graces. He brought flowers, candy, and a huge boom box sitting on the grass.
"I'm sorry baby. I've tried to call you and do everything but you got so mad at me-" he rambles before sighing loudly.
This was killing him to fight with you and it breaks his heart.
"I got mad because you let your ex hug you and flirt with you while we were together," You state rather bluntly. Thinking about the fight made you upset again.
"Baby, look. I love you and only you. No one else!" Jungkook tells her desperately.
Of course, you were convinced, but who knows if he'll do it again.
You cross your arms and sigh at his excuses.
Though, Jungkook wasn't done.
He places the flowers and candy on the ground before picking up the boombox and pressing play. He holds the boombox over his head and you could tell that he was nervous.
Playing on the boom box was Breaking My Heart By Mint Condition which had to be a song you two would always love to sing together.
You couldn't help but bite a laugh back and cover your smile.
It's cute because he most likely saw this in a movie or had the idea from a friend. You look down the street to see if your neighbors could hear and sure enough, their porch lights were turning on with the dogs beginning to bark from how loud it was.
You couldn't hold back your laugh anymore and broke from the serious glare you gave him.
"Jungkook, turn it off," you chuckle but Jungkook persists.
"Forgive me then."
Oh, he was insane.
"You're forgiven! Now come in before the cops get here," you shoo him over to you with a grin on your face. He turns the boom box off and grabs the flowers and candy before heading to the front door.
You welcome him inside with a soft kiss to his lips almost as if you've been craving his touch. He drops his bags to the ground with a loud thud before engulfing you in his embrace.
"You missed me a lot, didn't you?" He mumbles against her lips, pushing her back to her room to lay her on the bed. He doesn't even wait to tear apart his shirt, grabbing your hand so you could feel his chest.
"Shut up," you roll your eyes with a chuckle to follow. You sit enough to pull your shirt off so Jungkook can take off your bra for you.
One thing about Jungkook was that he loved your boobs.
He leans down to latch his lips along your nipple. sucking and nipping your mounds while he sneaks his hand lower down your stomach, getting closer to your pussy.
He pushes past your panties and rolls his fingertips through your lower lips. You couldn't help but release a sweet moan of his name in a whisper.
“Don’t tease me,” you whisper but he didn’t really care to listen. You made him suffer for a whole week. He was going to do whatever he wanted with you.
He trails his tongue from her nipple to her neck, biting her skin at her neck enough to leave a purple hue on her skin. He knew how much you liked to be known to other girls as his girlfriend so why not mark you up?
He presses his fingers to her clit, rubbing slow circles against her sensitive pussy just to get her wet enough for him. He needed to fuck her tonight. He craved it.
“How should I have you tonight?” He whisper before sliding his hand from her pussy to taste her on his fingers.
His eyes shift to the nightstand that held the vibrator and it was like a light bulb when off in his filthy mind. “Get undressed,” he pats her thigh before leaving the bed to take his pants off.
You didn’t waste any time pulling off your pajama pants to be left completely bare for him in the bed. How was he going to have you tonight?
Cowgirl?
Missionary?
Doggy?
Fuck, you needed him asap.
You reach down to touch your sensitive bud, rolling your fingers slow enough to get any satisfaction from this wait.
Jungkook tosses his boxers and pants on the ground and prys your legs open when he kneels between your legs. His dick was hard, long, and curved that you knew you wouldn’t last.
He grabs the base of his dick and spits on his length to rub it along his length.
“Come on,” you sigh, grabbing your boob with one hand.
Jungkook bites his bottom lip and alines himself to you before sliding in slowly.
A moan of content is shared when he rolls his hips in and out. His brows are furrowed and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth when he finds his rhythm that you both loved.
“Grab the vibrator,” he instructs, but that addition would make you fall even more apart.
You whine and grab the toy, turning it on medium before pressing it to your clit. You squirm a bit in his hold, clenching onto his length at the new sensation,
“Oh baby…” you cry.
“Feels good Hm?” He grins. God, he was deep. Enough to hit that sweet tender spot over and over again to make you see stars.
And Jungkook seemed to feel the same when his thrusts grow sloppy and his breathing grew quicker. The vibrator was tosses to the ground when you wrap your legs around his waist to keep him close, gripping the bedsheets when you finally climax.
“Oh fuck!” You squeal before exhaling in relief from cumming.
Jungkook slows his hips until he comes to an abrupt stop, having him groan from his throat when he cums. His body was sweaty but he wore a smile on his face nethertheless.
“Fuck, I love you. I’m so sorry for everything,” you apologize softly.
“Don’t be sorry. I won’t hurt you like that again,” he shakes his head.
He leaves the bed to start a bath, but you couldn’t help but to think how lucky you were to have a crazy yet romantic boyfriend who would get a boom box to win his girlfriend back.
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I couldn’t figure out how to end it but all well! This isn’t my best so best with me💀
Exciting news! I graduated college and I’m going to grad school now (yay harder school)
I will be around during the summer so more drabbles in the future
#bts#kpop#jungkook#bts jeon jungguk#bts x reader#jeon jungkook is just so hot tho#jungkook drabble#jungkook smut
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I think this shitshow with Toshiro stems from the trend of people INSISTING that interpersonal conflict must be a moral failing. Like I think there's something to be said about how people afford so much less patience to people who are autistic in the "wrong" ways, but also Laios and Toshiro just clash on a fundamental level that has nothing to do with that. Hell, you could read Toshiro as autistic as well. People related to Laios' side of the argument but instead of getting any nuance out of it they started projecting their experiences with ableist people onto Toshiro.
AGREE AGREE AGREE. i think that Fandom Brain gets people very used to thinking of conflicts in terms of "who is the bad guy and who is the good guy", so when they encounter a more nuanced conflict they don't really know what to do. i don't think toshiro is a bad person at all, in his conflict with laios he's just exhausted and starving and has been pushed to the limit and from his perspective, laios doesn't even seem that emotionally affected by the situation. i don't think what he said was right and it was pretty cruel, but i don't think he's a villain or deserves to be permanently hated as a character just bc he fucked up this time lol
also yeah you could definitely read him as autistic, and i think that highlights an issue in the autistic community in general bc like....... a lot of autistic people have conflicting needs which can lead to conflict between them/make them unable to stand being around each other. and it's not because either of them are neurotypical or bad people, they're just incompatible. like autistic people who loudly stim vocally and autistic people who meltdown when they have to be around loud noises, for example. it doesn't mean either of them is bad or not autistic, just that they have conflicting needs
i 100% agree with the last part too. i disliked toshiro at first myself bc i had been (and still do ngl) projecting onto laios hard and the conflict they had reminded me of times when people have been mean or angry at me irl for social blunders i've made unintentionally, or when someone i thought liked me/was my friend turned out to actually hate me. it's a common experience for autistic people and that scene resonates with that! but i think it also helps to take a step back from projecting our own traumatic experiences onto the scene and just look at it objectively. laios isn't perfect either and he's the one who actually starts the physical fight by slapping toshiro (i feel like i don't see many people mention this lol). i feel super bad for him in that scene but he's not a perfect victim and has done things wrong himself too
as an autistic person i've also been in situations where i can relate to toshiro too lol, like where someone is overly physically and emotionally familiar with me when we don't know each other well and i've wanted them to back off but haven't been sure how to say it without hurting their feelings. this kind of conflict is far from just being a "neurotypical vs neurodivergent" thing as a lot of people portray it in the fandom
idk i just wish people would think a little more deeply about the scene and put their own emotions and experiences aside to instead consider the conflict with the added context of the individual characters and their respective cultures + the situation they're in. people don't have to like toshiro but i wish they wouldn't paint him as a villain or make up awful shit about him just to justify their feelings when he isn't even that bad of a dude in canon yknow 😑. also we literally see him at rock bottom struggling and freaking out and i think that's important to remember. in a different context i doubt he would have ever said those things to laios
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Hi! This is a sort of weird question, but I’m writing a sci fi /fantasy book with two disabled main characters:
1. Cove is twelve years old and has something along the lines of Williams syndrome (possibly that, possibly Down syndrome—still deciding). He’s mildly intellectually disabled and has low muscle tone + an unspecified heart problem (which is stable but he still gets regular checkups for it). His power is turning into a giant at will. He might have PTSD for reasons that are potentially triggering, so I won’t go into details ^^’ He really likes the ocean and spicy food, and hates people staring at him or judging him
2. Lucas is sixteen and uses a wheelchair full time due to cerebral palsy. His hands tend to shake a lot too. His power is turning into a Sphynx cat. He’s a trans guy. Idk what he would like or dislike yet tbh, but I picture him dressing in black clothes a lot
My question is this—what are some ways these characters’ powers could like interact with their disabilities? So far I have that overusing his giant power could possibly put strain on Cove’s heart. and if Lucas wants to move around independently in his cat form, he’d probably need one of those animal wheelchairs for his back legs?
Also— is there anything else I need to consider while I write this story?
I’m not trying to get you to do all the brainstorming for me btw! I hope it doesn’t seem like that ^^’ I’m just looking for other people’s thoughts and input-
Hi!
I think that the powers you gave them are very cool! Often with disabled superpowered characters there's the trope of always having the ability be fundamentally connected with their disability. Someone shapeshifting into a cat is awesome!
The concept of Cove's transformation putting pressure on his heart is very realistic (if you can say that about shapeshifting, lol)! Both Down and Williams Syndrome come with cardiac problems, so you won't need to change that if you decide to switch the exact disability. I'm thinking that maybe he could try to slowly turn giant, rather than instantaneously? I imagine that turning back to being normal-sized could also cause some issues.
I'm unsure if that's a part of your story, but I think that having his family worry about him transforming because of his heart would be realistic as well. Wouldn't really classify it as infantilization because he's twelve, and I know that a lot of parents of children with DS are extremely cautious around the cardiovascular problems (not sure about Williams Syndrome here, but I think it would make sense as well)!
You mentioned PTSD, and while I don't see anything wrong here from what you said, I would just urge you to not have some weird "PTSD flashback = turns giant and extremely violent" (violent being the key word here) kind of scene. (If you have PTSD yourself then feel free to do whatever you want of course). But I think that him becoming bigger when he feels threatened as a defense mechanism of sorts would make sense.
For Lucas, I think that the idea of shapeshifting from a wheelchair user to a wheelchair using cat goes incredibly hard. As for the ways that it could interact with his cerebral palsy: if he has issues with his arms then he would use the wheelchair a bit differently. In the kitty wheelchair the whole energy comes from the forelimbs, so if his hands shake then he would be much more wobbly as a cat than as a human.
I'm not sure whether cerebral palsy in kitties is a thing, but you can look up cats with cerebellar hypoplasia. It's not the same thing but causes some similar symptoms! For example, the lack of balance that Lucas could have due to shaky limbs.
In my opinion your story sounds great! If you have any more questions with more specific details, feel free to send another ask :)
Sorry for the late answer! I hope this helps!
mod Sasza
#mod sasza#potato-head-kids#cerebral palsy representation#intellectual disability representation#fantasy species#wheelchairs#ptsd representation
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https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/748370073567313920/i-think-for-me-one-of-the-big-stumbling-blocks-i
People in the replies are jumping to a lot of really obnoxious conclusions about anon that really just ultimately illustrate anon’s point.
There’s all this stuff that is *assuming* anon is pro censorship when they never say anything like that (and in fact, i thought they suggested the opposite). They’re talking about how sex positivity and anti-anti attitudes get weaponized or misused in some fandom spaces to make people feel like it’s wrong for them to be squeamish and want to *personally* avoid men who are really vocal about their love of lolicon and slavery isekai, because guys who are that vocal about it have in their experience, tended to have that reflect real world attitudes.
I think it’s good to point out that plenty of people like these things privately and you’ll never know, and it’s the being super vocal about it around uninterested people that’s the red flag here. But people just assuming that anon holds every attitude they associate with some stereotypical anti, and that their message indicates some thinking to BE CAREFUL! about… really just proves their point that a lot of people have a bad tendency to only see this in terms of how things work in their particular corner of fandom, and don’t recognize how what can mean one thing in one, primarily female and queer space, doesn’t necessarily translate well to a space with a lot of entitled cis dudes. Assuming that personal discomfort with certain kinds of fiction automatically translates into being pro censorship (what) when that person said nothing else to indicate that, is one such assumption.
(Also one person was trying to suggest it was racist of anon to “single out hentai”… maybe the reason they mentioned hentai is because they’re *specifically* talking about anime fandom?!?)
Idk, it doesn’t help proshippers if we can’t see anything except via the narrow lens of pro vs anti fights on Tumblr and AO3, be able to advocate our positions. We are aware of how fandom blinders can blinker people in the opposite direction—antis who don’t recognize that rhetoric that they think is just all about shipping is also used by right wing activists to advocate banning books and drag shows—but it’s true in both directions.
Being uncomfortable with a lot of “sex positivity” rhetoric because you’ve mostly seen it used to tell you you’re wrong to be uncomfortable with dudes who are super outspoken and pushy about their porn habits is a really common experience for lefty women IME, both outside of fandom and in fandom spaces with more cis dudes. Most women I’ve met like that are vocally anti censorship, it’s about being able to take charge of their personal boundaries and not have them shamed. Proshippers pushing them away by loading more unhelpful and inaccurate judgments on them aren’t helping them and are just shrinking their movement, making it more likely it’ll be dismissed as just “very online fandom drama” (and if you’re that clueless, are they wrong, really?)
Also it’s just helpful to better understand why some people might find your enemies’ arguments more initially compelling than they should be.
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"Sexual liberation means sex with me specifically" was a plague in the 70s from what I hear, and I'm sure it has been a thing forever.
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and so now that i have your attention here are the couture looks i think fox would ABSOLUTELY rock. note these are from women’s collections bc a) fuck gender roles and b) men’s fashion is very meh. there’s no drama.
This is look 23 from their spring 2024 collection. despite my bitching about the awkward number of looks, this is a collection I do really like. Sigh. Fox would like this outfit for two reasons. First, the cut would emphasize his shoulders and thus make him more intimidating. Second, it’s very elegant, but not particularly elaborate, making him stand out in a room filled with whatever nonsense the Senate put on today (cough Palpatine cough).
This is look 28 from the same collection. A bit more elaborate, and again shoulders are emphasized. It allows for a more formal setting with retaining freedom of movement.
This is look 15 from FW2019. A lot more elaborate, but easier to hide weapons in and the pants allow for greater flexibility. Also: POCKETS. more importantly: SUBTLE POCKETS. for knives ❤️❤️
This is from Galla Lahav’s spring collection in 2017. I don’t know the exact look number because I found it through pinterest but I think this works for a dinner or something because it’s less outlandish and more practical. (Dinners are usually SIGNIFICANTLY less formal than things like balls and galas btw).
I’m stealing the coat and running. This is from Dior’s Spring 1998 collection, and I love the shawl/cape thing, but the dress? Eh. Not a fan.
Zuhair Murad AGAIN. they really said “let’s serve cunt constantly” tbh. This is look 2 from their FW2022 collection and I have actually used this in writing wherein Fox wears this (or a modified version of this, with knee-high flat heeled boots) to an opera. Sorry I just HATE thigh high boots with a passion.
YET AGAIN. ZUHAIR MURAD. This is very “oh no the Chancellor died! of natural causes im sure” which is why I love it for Fox. he’s got a femme fatale vibe. to me.
I cannot for the life of me remember where I got this one. If someone else could find it it would be HIGHLY appreciated. I like this bc it’s giving a Sith AU and idk man. The concept of Fox becoming a Sith fascinates me.
tagging @sevdalinkas because they said I could and also i genuinely thought i had more than this? alas those were all rtw not couture. SIGH.
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