#let me know if this needs any more tags please!
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🧺 Any More 🧺
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024
Requested: spencer realizing that he’ll never love someone as much as he loves you. (whether that be because of a case or what have you), his mind is absolutely blown with how much he worships you and how much you love and care for him and he shows you that with the softest most sickeningly sweet sex you and him has ever done. <3
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Discussions of case details, case burnout, very close friends to lovers, oral (f receiving), vanilla sex (p in v penetration). Discussions of mental health, and two idiots in love.
A/N: I'm hitting the prompt Vanilla for this one, so please don't be scared off by the KinkBingo tags! I had a lot of fun writing this one (and adding Pride and Prejudice quotes into the smut scene because HELLO). Let me know what you think in the replies~♡
Masterlist || Bingo Board
You hadn't seen Spencer in 100 days. Which in the grand scheme of things wasn't that long, trapped in the purgatory of a ‘what if’ the way you had been for the last eight years.
You'd lived without him for longer than 100 days before. He'd been in prison, you'd been on assignments, you'd lived an entire life before meeting him, but now somehow 100 days was too much time, and you were exhausted. You understood why Spencer had to take some time away from you, from the team in an official capacity after everything he'd been through. You supported him even.
But when even your free time didn't overlap anymore, you wondered if your relationship would ever be the same again.
Spencer was a friend, your best friend, probably. You'd arrived on the BAU team, he'd rattled off some statistics, stammering the way through them, and you'd immediately warmed to the man. He was brilliant, funny, and fiercely loyal, and you tried your best to protect him even when the job seemed designed to break people like him into thousands of little pieces.
You'd tried to convince him to leave before, after Maeve had died. You didn't want to see him heart broken again, but no one else had seemed to agree.
“Reid needs purpose,” they'd said. “Reid needs something to do.”
What Reid needed was to not end up dead before he had a chance to be happy, and happiness didn't come often in your field of work.
You'd been almost vindicated a year later when he'd been shot again, almost fatally. Vindicated, maybe but distraught and inconsolable. Morgan had to carry you screaming and clawing out of his hospital room multiple times. It sounded stupid enough to yourself that it was only then you realized your feelings for the man.
You wanted to be Spencer Reid's happiness, which was why you were so lost without him.
He was coming back on Monday, and at least you had the weekend to sort your feelings out about everything.not just about him, but about the job you'd found didn't fit you well enough anymore, about the team you loved like family, about the relationship you knew would likely never come to fruition.
You dumped your bags at your door when you'd arrived in your house that night, pushed yourself into your bedroom and let yourself collapse on your bed, balling up into as cozy a position as you could. You didn't even bother taking your jacket off, you just let your brain haze over and sleep rush in.
Three quiet raps at your door lifted you up and out of bed again, not an hour later.
You grabbed your phone, grabbed the second go-bag you kept at your house, put your shoes back on, and opened the door, expecting Emily and a new case.
“Where are we going?” You said, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, not even looking up at your guest.
“Hopefully, nowhere? I brought takeout.”
Your eyes widened then, taking in all 185cm of Doctor Spencer Reid, tweed jacket and plastic bag full of chow mein included.
“Spencer,” you breathed out, like a sigh of relief, letting the bag drop to the floor next to the first one and letting yourself into his arms.
He held you carefully there for a second before leading you back into the apartment, wrapping an arm around you and ruffling your hair. It was brotherly, and it made you sick to your stomach.
“What are you doing here?”
“Emily said you were back from a case,” he started, unpacking the takeaway from the containers. “And it feels wrong to eat this without you.”
You rolled your eyes and followed him into the kitchen, pulling two forks out of the drawer nearer you and stabbing them in the top of your two cups.
“Hey, I can use chopsticks now,” he said, defending himself against an inside joke. Spencer was always useless with his hands.
“I don't care if you can use them, I care that they don't accidentally end up stabbing me,” you said, taking yourself back to your bedroom, Spencer following.
“You'd hardly die from being stabbed by a wooden chopstick, maybe a papercut or a splinter but-”
“But you're just bad enough that I don't want to risk it.”
You kicked off your shoes again and climbed onto your bed. Spencer followed.
“Remind me again why we aren't sitting on your couch?”
“Uncomfortable.”
“Or at your breakfast bar?”
“Glorified filing cabinet right now. Eat.”
He shook his head but complied, leaning back against your pillows as you both began carefully eating. Silently, you pulled your laptop onto your bed, opened it up, and pressed play on a movie, one you'd seen more than once, and you'd forced Spencer to watch before as well.
In a comfortable, friendly silence, you finished your food. You stretched out in a yawn once and then curled into his side, letting his mumbling voice, repeating the movie lines as they were spoken, lull you softly into sleep.
Spencer knew he had to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to wake you. The movie had finished hours ago, he'd closed the laptop and turned off the bug lights, but he couldn't leave.
Unlike you, he hadn't counted the days that you'd been apart. He hadn't needed to. He knew you'd be waiting there for him when he returned, knew you'd give him a smile and a pat on the back, and immediately start bouncing ideas off of him. It was what he loved about you.
As he laid next to you in your bed, a place he'd absolutely been before, his heart thumped. Just once, but hard.
Even in sleep, you looked exhausted. Your shirt was crumpled, hair a mess, you were still wearing makeup, and he knew he'd probably get an earful for letting you sleep like that in the morning. You were a mess, and he still wanted you.
The thought came to him suddenly, another painful thump of his chest echoing in his mind. He rubbed absent mindedly at his chest as if experiencing heartburn. In the dim light of the room, he let his head drop to the pillow and wrapped two shaky arms around you and pulled you in closer.
The two of you were a picture - both in suits, both with badges still somewhere on your person, both dearly clinging to the person they feared losing the most.
When you woke the next morning, it was actually the afternoon.
“Spencer,” you groaned, melting under the heat of his embrace. Somehow, during the night, he'd rolled on top of you, pressing you into the bed with a delightful pressure, head nuzzled into your neck, arms tucked around your waist.
“Spencer, we should get up,” you said again, forcing your eyelids apart as your mascara tried to glue them together.
“Mmmmhh,” he groaned, moving to pick himself up off you for a minute but lowering himself again. If asked, he'd blame your hand in his hair, stroking the rogue curls gently, as if he were a prized pet and you their carer.
“Spencer, its 2pm.”
“On a Saturday.” You laughed at how pouty his voice sounded, but he complied and rolled off of you slightly, arms still wrapped around you.
“Come on. Get up. I've got some clothes that might fit you, let's get you out of the tweed.”
He huffed but nodded and lifted himself halfway to upright, eyes still closed lazily as he let in the light millimetre by millimetre.
“God, my face feels horrible,” you said, itching at your nose. “How did we even sleep so long like this? My belt is still on, Spencer, my belt.”
“If you were still wearing a weapon, then I'd be worried,” he smiled.
You shot him a sarcastic look and finally detangled yourself, only to clasp his hands and pull him forward as well, letting him trail you to your closet.
“Here, change in the bathroom,” he nodded and walked away, following directions with eyes still closed, as if it were really his apartment and not your own.
100 days without him, and it was as if it had only been 100 hours. Your entire body chemistry changed when he was around, the stick holding your spine rigidly in place, dissolving into calm, into a smile and a free giggle. It felt right again, and you almost forgot you'd ever felt wrong.
After briefly changing, you swapped place with Spencer, who'd exited the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and wet hair.
“Dry it for me?” He asked, sitting on your couch, and you nodded your ascent. A shower and a quick change later, and you were doing just that.
As much as he tried to keep his head upright, it kept lolling onto your thigh, yawns stretching out of him as he nuzzled closer to you.
“Spencer, you're like a big kid, keep your head up.”
“I'm not a kid,” he laughed, hooking his arms behind your knees and nuzzling closer into your soft sweats. “I'm just tired.”
“You're right. A child would probably be better behaved.”
“Our child would be,” he sighed, but you'd already turned the hairdryer back on, drowning out everything. Everything but that thump again. A child, he was thinking about children, and more importantly, he was thinking about your children. With him.
He'd always imagined himself with a family, knowing it would ultimately stay in his imagination. But for a second, his visions changed. It wasn't just a child or two. It was you. Thump.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
He only released the image when you finally pushed his head off of you and stood, turning away from him to get a glass of water from your kitchen.
“So, any plans today? Books to read, papers to mark, undergrads to run away screaming from?” You let the ice water cool your hot cheeks, but kept your back to him. You were hot, embarrassed, and you were looking at him in a sickeningly sweet way that could only be described as love struck or struck dumb.
“No, no, I finished all my obligations at the college yesterday,” he said, following behind you and picking up your cup when you set it down, taking a sip himself.
“I was… I was actually hoping we could spend some time together? Unless you had plans, which is totally fine-”
“No, Spencer, yeah, I have no plans, that's…. Well I have to do laundry, which is a bit boring but, no. No plans.”
“Laundry?”
“Two week case in Florida, I don't know how you didn't smell me yesterday, Spencer. I'd be running for the hills.”
He laughed and stepped away again, grabbing the two go bags by the door and coming back into your space.
“How about we get this done now so we can spend the day in a Who-Trek marathon?”
“Make that a Who-Greys Anatomy Marathon, and you have yourself a deal.”
He pouted again, and you snorted at the sight, taking another sip of water to calm yourself before you could react safely to that face.
“Come on, you know you've been dying to know what happens next at the Grey Sloane Memorial Hospital.”
“I thought it was called the Seattle Grace Mercy?”
“Oh we better get to that laundry now. You have a lot to catch up on.”
Grabbing a bag in one hand and his free hand in your other, you made your way down to your building's laundry room. But despite the man by your side and the relaxing day threatening to stretch ahead of you, a gloom caught you in the corridors.
You'd worked for two weeks, practically solid. You'd killed a man two days ago, or at least someone on your team had multiple shots having been fired. Another day on your job, another unsub felled, and everyone else was content with this just being a part of the job description.
It felt like each step towards the laundry room, each thing you did that was normal, that was regular, threw back in your face the pain you endured to save lives.
The bag in your hand weighed you down, pulling you lower and lower by the second.
You reached the laundry room, and you found the weight almost unbearable, stopping just before you could step in. You didn't have to think about what came next though, because suddenly the bag was out of your hands and Spencer was sorting your laundry for you.
“It's a Saturday, so your neighbour's won't complain if we separate the darks and lights into two machines, will they?” He asked, not looking up at you as he worked pouring out the fabric softener and the detergent. “Y/N?”
You hadn't noticed the lightness in your body until the tears hit your cheeks, the weight gone with his support.
“Y/N, what is it? What's wrong?” He said, hands cupping your face, because of course he was immediately at your side.
“I-I can't do it, Spencer…” your voice shook, pitching upwards, your vision blurring with tears.
“Can't do what, Y/N? Talk to me please, let me help?”
“I can't do laundry!” You said, finally bursting into a full fit of tears and burying your head in his waiting chest.
“L-Laundry?” He said, trying not to laugh, but the smile slipping out anyway now you were holding him.
You only sobbed again, nodding into his shirt, aware you were probably leaving snot all over it but not being able to care. It was your shirt anyway. You would just have to add it back to your laundry pile.
The thought set you off on another wave of sobs, and Spencer set about comforting you again. Keeping an arm wrapped around you, he put his quarters into the machines and set them off before quickly ushering you back up the stairs into your apartment.
“Y/N? Y/N, please talk to me,” he begged, smoothing your hair out of your eyes as you tried to gather yourself.
“I don't…. I can't….” You took a breath again, aware of the way your breathing hitched in your chest as you did.
“I don't think I can do this anymore,” you said, and his eyes widened quickly.
“This? Y/N, if you mean this as in us, then I can't-”
“This job,” you clarified, hands digging into the soft flesh of his arms further as he held you, finally sitting back on your couch.
“The job. Okay, the job. That's okay. We all feel like this at some point.”
You sniffed again and refused to meet his eyes.
“But this isn't like the other times this - It's like my whole b-body is protesting, and I can't sleep, and if I don't, then I might get sloppy and an unsub could-”
“Y/N, focus on my voice. You're spiralling. Listen to my voice, let's take some breaths, and think about this for a second.”
He guided you through some breathing, a hand on your back tapping out beats even as his voice grew quiet.
When you finally relaxed, you were sat on top of him, his hand rubbing circles into your back.
“I think it started when you left,” you whispered. “When you went to Mexico, and then, you know,” you've voice thickened, and you couldn't get the words out.
“And then these last 100 days they've just been…difficult.”
“100…difficult,” he echoed, almost breathless as he listened to you.
“It's like I can't do it without you. I never had to try to do it without you, and now I get what people say when they say this job is shitty, because it is when your best friend isn't there.”
You gave him a weak smile and wiped away your tears, trying to climb from his lap. But his firm arms held you still, and you didn't really want out anyways.
“When I get home, everything is different, and I can't make myself do anything. If you weren't here, I wouldn't have done that laundry. I'd let it sit and avoid it for weeks. Do you understand?”
“Y/N, lots of people feel depressed sometimes-”
“It's not - Spencer, I don't think this is something I can medicate my way out of. I don't know what to do because I can't do my job without you, and I can't be happy doing my job, and if I leave my job I'll be without you and then-”
Your voice cracked again.
“And then I still won't be happy.” The words were barely a whisper, but they were a plea, too. You weren't sure what for.
“You can't be happy without me?” He asked, but it was more a statement than anything else. Spencer felt horrible in that moment as his chest rattled, gleeful that he was your happiness.
“I love you,” he said, outloud finally after eight years.
“I love you, too, Spencer, but-”
“No, Y/N. Listen to me. I. Love. You.” The thumping of his heart set the tempo for the choir that was his senses to begin singing, as he finally leaned forward and kissed you.
“I love you, and I don't care if you're working at the BAU or if you're avoiding laundry at home. I, god, you're amazing and wonderful, and you're a human being, and you've our yourself under so much pressure for the last decade to keep me alive, to keep all of us alive really and….”
He took another breath, leaning into kiss you one more time.
“And you deserve a break.”
“W-When we take breaks, people die.”
“Did anyone die when I was teaching for the last three months? When JJ went on maternity leave?”
You shook your head, but your brain was still a mess.
“You all had reasons, I-”
“You have reasons, too. Y/N…. Y/N, let me be your reason.”
For a moment or two, Spencer truly thought you were going to say no. He thought you would get up and walk away, or better yet, ask him to leave and never come back.
So when you pressed your lips to his, he was sure that this was a dream.
But to you, it was salvation. Spencer Reid's love was the lifeline you'd been thrown, and it was buoyant enough to make you start floating.
His hands kneaded the flesh at your hips as he pulled you closer still to him, his tongue slipping into your mouth to explore every part of you there.
“Y/N… love…you,” he mumbled with each spare breath he caught, and you only detangled your lips to hear him say it again as he pressed similarly heated kisses against every inch of your exposed skin.
When Spencer's mind lost its ability to create original speech, he leant back on a lifetime of information, of learning love through books and people and marathons with you.
“I know that all I know right now is that I love you. And I know that I always will,” he whispered, lifting you and carrying you back to the bed you'd only crawled from an hour hence.
A hand slid under your shirt, and slowly pushed it over your head, letting it slowly drop to the floor as he held you tenderly.
“To me, you are perfect.”
His mouth found one nipple, and he gently kissed, then suckled at it, hands softly caressing your stomach, feeling along every ridge of you as you writhed under him.
“Of all the FBI Units, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.”
“Spencer,” you said, voice still thick with tears, but these ones more tender, more joyful.
His hand eased your sweats over your ass and off, his hips settling between your legs as if he found the place he was made to lie forever.
“The truth of it is, I’ve loved you from the first second I met you.”
His mouth trailed lower until his tongue hit your clit, brushing against it languidly, as if it was his deepest desire to taste you and nothing else ever again.
His tongue flattened and flicked and pushed inside of you as you replayed his words again and again and again. You found yourself repeating them with him.
“I love you,” you echoed as he pushed a finger inside of you.
“I.. love you,” you gasped as he added another.
“I love you,” you screamed as your back arched up off the bed, finding your pleasure in his tongue, just ad you'd found love in his words.
“You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love….” He freed his cock from his pants, and took it in hand.
“I love…” With another kiss, he pressed the tip of it against you, asking for permission silently as you nodded your head.
“I love you.” He pushed in slowly, but it wouldn't matter how he did it because now you knew how he felt, and you didn't want to return to a time of not knowing.
Hooking your legs around him, Spencer dropped his forehead to yours and looked you directly in the eyes as he began moving. In and out, he thrust, mouth open in a moan of pleasure, likely mirroring your own.
The poetry, the movie lines, they were gone now, and Spencer was left with nothing but you, and love, and love for you.
“Spencer,” you moaned out, and he felt his chest swell. Pride. His name on your tongue, his body pressed to yours, claiming you as his ad you claimed him as yours.
He came with a shudder and you were not far behind, his undoing sending a shiver up your spine as his fingers grazed your clit again.
You sat panting for a minute, still attached, still forehead to forehead.
You weren't sure if it was him who giggled first or if it was you, but you were glad it was one of you.
You spent the rest of the night, the rest of the weekend, wrapped in his warmth, dressed in his love, taking each day a step at a time as you basked in his adoration.
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#mgg#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid smut#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid fandom#spencer reid criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#dr spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader fluff#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x self insert#x reader#cmkinkbingo2024
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out of service; part nine of sore loser ⋆ masterlist
summary: you're between a rock and a hard place | content/warning: art's redemption chapter let's go!!! explicit language, inaccuracies about university and tennis, angst, arguing, injuries (and descriptions of said inguries), patrick barely features in this one | tags: @midwestprincesss
"I'm going to be frank with you. You've been failing your classes."
You were picking at the skin on your fingers with a passion, taking another deep breath to try and control the tears you could feel already pooling in your eyes. "You're also aware of your scholarship's terms and conditions," your professor continued, "so you are aware that if you do bad academically, you could lose the scholarship?"
The torture on your hands had seized and moved on to you now picking the soft pieces of lint from your sweatpants. "Can you look at me, please?"
Your professor called your name softly, urging you to look at her. When you did, she spared you a sympathetic smile. "You are aware that you could lose your scholarship, right?" she asked again. You only nodded, the thought causing a knot form in your already dry throat. "Worst case scenario is they make you drop tennis so that you have more time to work," she continued. "I talked to your coach and—"
"You can't make me drop tennis. Please," you spoke up for the first time since you've entered her class. She sighed, biting at the inside of her cheek and giving you a small nod. "I understand you don't want to give that up," she tried, "and I know how hard you've worked to get where you are now. But something's got to give. It's either you step up and work on your grades, or your coach has to take you out of the team."
"I'll work harder, I promise. Just give me some time, please," you pleaded. Your professor only nodded with a placating look. "You're a smart girl," she stated, "you've just been a bit unorganized lately. You need to find your balance again."
The walk from her class to your dorm felt like a thousand miles, your mind swarming with thoughts. You always knew how to keep your head above water when it came to balancing the different aspects of your life, but recently, everything felt off kilter. It had now come to the choice of one or the other, and you didn't want to make that decision.
You made a detour to one of the practice courts, finding Art and one of his teammates practicing. You sat on one of the benches, hands rubbing over your legs as you watched them play. After a while, he bid his friend goodbye before making his way to you, plopping down next to you.
"Do you want me to practice with you?" he asked. You shook your head. "I didn't come to practice. I just came to clear my head," you said quietly, looking over at him. The small tresses of hair sticking out the front of his backward cap were slightly damp with sweat, a light pink dusting his cheeks as he took a few deep breaths.
"You alright?" he asked, watching as you slowly nodded. "Do you want me to go?" he asked, and you shook your head no. You clearly had a lot on your mind, but he decided to leave you, the two of you sitting in silence.
★ ⊹ ˚.
You drew in a deep breath, tightening your grip on your racket as you eyed your opponent. She had a smirk on her face as she bounced the ball in her hand before lifting her racket. You braced yourself, finding your footing. You were tired. Tired of the sun sitting idle above your head, tired of barely gaining any points. tired of this smug bitch looking down at you and tired of not winning.
It's a flurry of movement after she serves, the both of you playing like your life depended on it. On the pavillion, Art was watching attentively as the two of you moved. He could tell you were exhausted, your form becoming sloppy and unfocused as you desperately tried to keep up. He could see the desperation in your eyes, the frustration, and the need to win. You were starting to make dumb mistakes, and it was costing you.
It happened so fast, the one moment your opponent was hitting the ball with a force that had you scrambling to try and keep up, and the next, you were losing your footing, stumbling forward with nothing but an outstretched hand to break your fall.
You had tried to shake it off, tell yourself and everyone else you were fine, but as soon as the pain shot through your wrist and up your arm, you were writhing. The pain was almost blinding, soon turning to a dull ache that numb every other part of your body. It hurt so much, and you couldn't do anything but cry; cry because it hurt, because you had embarrassed yourself, because you couldn't play. All you could hear were the gasps of the crowd and the people approaching you in hurried steps.
★ ⊹ ˚.
You felt so overstimulated. The tears have dried on your cheeks and left tacky tracks on your face. Your eyes were red and swollen and hurt every time you blinked. The cheap plastic of the examination bed squeaked with every slight movement and prompted you to sit still, your right hand laid carefully on a pillow in your lap while the other one was being held in Art's much warmer hand, his thumb rubbing over the top of your hand carefully.
You looked down at your hand, at the dark blues and purples blooming around your swollen wrist as the dull ache settled bone-deep. You sniffled, tears once again settling in your eyes. Art's grip on your hand tightened as he brought your uninjured hand to his lips, placing a light kiss to the top of your knuckles. He looked at you apologetically as he saw the hopeless look on your face.
"I dunno what happened," you stated with a broken voice, watching as he continued placing kisses to your hand. "It's okay," he said, but you only shook your head.
The nurse returned with a fresh icepack, carefully placing it on your wrist before she looked at you forlornly. "I think your wrist might be broken, dear," she whispered as she placed a hand on your shoulder. "We're gonna have to get you to a hospital for an X-ray just to be sure."
You only nodded, watching as she walked away to call your parents. You looked over at Art, who still had your hand clutched in his, an expression matching yours on his face.
You had left the hospital late that night with a cast, a bag of painkillers and Art still by your side looking equally exhausted. "You didn't have to stay, by the way. I could've asked my roommate for a ride," you said watching as he opened the door to his car for you. "I don't mind," was all he said, waiting for you to get in.
When finally got back to your dorm, you thanked him, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. When his arms wrapped themselves around you, it was like everything came crashing down, a whole day's exhaustion and pain building up until there was no way but for it to pour out.
You found yourself sobbing in his arms, your face leaving wet tracks on his shirt as he held you tighter. You pulled away begrudgingly, taking your hand and rubbing angrily at your wet face. "I'm sorry," you said, looking down at the wet marks left on his shirt rather than his face. "It's okay," he said, his hand holding the side of your face and making you look up at him. "You're gonna be okay," he tried.
You sighed deeply, biting the inside of your cheek. "I fucked everything up," you said. He tried to calm you down, but you were already rambling. "What if I can't play anymore?" you asked rhetorically, "I'll lose everything. What am I supposed to tell my parents?"
"You're gonna be fine," Art repeated. "How do you know that?" you asked, frustrated at his calm demeanor. The angry tears made it hard for you to see, so you rubbed across your face again. "I know because I'm gonna be here," he answered, gently prying your hand from your face and looking into your reddening eyes. "Tennis isn't everything."
"It is to me," you answered quickly. "This is my only shot. It's all I have." Art's hand still held onto yours, feeling the way you squeezed it tighter. "That's not true—"
"Tell me I'm still good," you interrupted. "That I'll still be good," you pleaded. He said your name in a soft, placating voice. "Please," you begged. He sighed. "You're still good," he said softly, pulling you closely and placing a kiss to your forehead. "You're still good," he repeated against your skin.
You relished his soft touch and the feeling of being in his embrace, your good hand bringing his face down to yours to meet in a kiss. An unspoken desperation and gratitude passed from your lips to his and as if he could feel it, he hadn't tried stopping you, tongue greedily yet softly licking inside your mouth.
His mouth left yours, carefully grabbing your right hand and bringing it to his mouth, kissing the inside of your wrist over the hard plaster of the cast. Your mouth hung slightly open in a search of a breath as your left hand held the side of his face before his lips met yours once again.
★ ⊹ ˚.
#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#art donaldson#challengers x reader#challengers#likedovesinthewindd
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˖˚˳⊹ — pretty boy summer masterlist
this is the masterlist for the pretty boy summer collab, a collection of shouto-centric x reader fics! warnings for nsfw and potential dark content; minors please dni! links to each will be added as the fics are published. if you're interested in joining, check out the collab post for guidelines—sign ups are open until june 15!
heliotrope @auraxins
as the son of the town mayor, you have certain duties to uphold. one must find a wife, sire an heir, and prepare to inherit your father's legacy. you most certainly are not supposed to fall in love with a travelling cowboy; but how can you resist a face as pretty as his?
— content: male!reader, wild west au, nsft, period-typical bigotry, star-crossed lovers, hurt/comfort, trauma bonding (more tbd)
#HEARTBURN @shibaraki
who knew your run-ins with the suspiciously accident prone pro-hero shouto would capture the hearts of the general public—or that a bit of harmless flirting could have such inconvenient consequences?
— content: afab reader, meet-cute, social media + shipping, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff + humour
lights, camera, chaos @pikatsum
You and Shouto are forced to make your first televised appearance as a couple. What starts as an embarrassing invasion of privacy completely upends itself once you realize just how cutthroat the world of reality TV can get.
“You should know,” said Shouto, “this isn’t a genuine case. The “criminals” are all actors and my team has informed me the situation was drafted in a writing room. You will be perfectly safe.”
Somewhere, you imagined that harried production assistant was hissing into her mic, ‘We can cut that, right?’
“Oh.” you said, still feeling a bit lightheaded as you flipped through the “case file,” sucking down a depressingly-bland smoothie of blended greens, protein powder, and the barest hint of strawberry, “That’s… good.”
— content: tags pending...
the sun glares @bkgpackets
As a college student, you’re always looking for some quick cash to last you the semester. Luckily for you, pro hero Shouto is in desperate need for a temporary personal assistant for a few months. Your initial plan of keeping your head down is knocked off course when he begins to request stranger and stranger items, like takeout with your company? You’re persistent but keeping to yourself proves to be difficult when his eyes take you in like a moth to an open flame, you’d run any light in the city to answer his calls.
— content: pro hero shouto x college student/personal assistant reader, shouto is a menace, fluff, angst, hurt/no comfort
rank em up @whatisreggieshortfor
Ashido and Uraraka just want to play a silly lil game with you. Who says they can’t have ulterior motives?
— content: what's ranking among friends, established relationship/not-so-secret relationship, chat fic, sfw
Under the Festival Lights @kimkaelyn
After a mission finishes earlier than expected, you and Shouto take advantage of the sudden free time to enjoy the local festival. Unbeknownst to you, it is a lover's festival and you happen to be harboring feelings for your dual-haired companion.
— content: pro hero au, pro hero fem reader
Nightswimming @threadbaresweater
summary pending...
— content: shouto x f!reader, summer romance vibes, no quirks au, most likely sfw + extra heavy petting
one night (fruit) stand @mangostarjam
You wake up from a one night stand with the most gorgeous guy in the world and leave thinking you'll never see him again. So why does he keep showing up at your farmer's market stall?
— content: pro heroes, aged up, fluff, misunderstandings, Just Some Guy/quirkless reader, misunderstandings, more tags tba
Best Intentions @knightofwands-upright
You know him like the back of your hand, only something is off about your relationship. Shouto has never taken you on a public date, posted to social media about you, or let you meet his family. How could you be so far apart but so close at the same time? Are you content with being a secret?
— content: mature rating, nsft elements, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending
three-part honesty @seiwas
honesty, you've realized, is shouto’s most cunning trait—a quality that's endeared you over the years now rendering you into a stuttering, fumbling mess like never before.
— content: sfw, f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!reader, post-canon, aged-up pro-hero!shouto and assistant!reader, reader wears a dress, workplace romance, development of feelings, confessions, boss/assistant dynamics, co-workers to lovers (ish), fluff.
title tbd @lees-chaotic-brain
summary pending...
— content: body swap au, more tags tba
title tbd @birinboom
summary pending...
— content: tags pending...
title tbd @bluebird-in-the-breeze
summary pending...
— content: tags pending...
title tbd @harbingerofchaosposts
summary pending...
— content: tags pending...
title tbd @foxboot
summary pending...
— content: tags pending...
loads of fun @andypantsx3
After moving into your first apartment together, Shouto seems more amorous than ever. You're not sure why—but when he catches you doing a load of laundry, more than your clothes are about to get tumbled.
— content: nsfw, pro hero au, domesticity kink, gn + afab reader, established relationship, fluff, emotional sex
#shouto x reader#todoroki x reader#todoroki shouto x reader#bnha x reader#todoroki x you#shoto x reader#shoto x y/n#shoto x you
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Theoretically if I were to host an event in which the Scum Villain Fandom tried to write PIDW would people be interested?
I discussed this with my good friend @spaced-out-scribbles a while back but here few details that I have in my head, please stop me if someone has already done something like this before
As we all know PIDW, written by Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, was the source material that Shen Yuan transmigrates into
So wouldn't it be funny to have a "canon" source material for people to reference?
Step 1 would be to compile every reference to PIDW in SVSSS to figure out how long Binghe's white lotus arc lasted and how long actual plot occured before it devolved into shitty smut
Step 2 would be to compile a list of fic writers and maybe artists perhaps that would be interested in recreating PIDW based off of the information occuring in Step 1
A discord server is put together with everyone interested in this project
There could maybe be a list of people assigned to each referenced arc that would maybe hold applications the way that a zine would perhaps? With people applying to write specific portions of PIDW if they wanted to write the marriage of a specific wife or a portion of a specific arc
And anyone else that wanted to participate is assigned a random wife number and told to go wild with the longest, shittiest description of how Luo Bingge was a total stallion lead, and married his new wife of the week
All of these fics and/or accompanying art are submitted to a GIANT ao3 collection (bonus points if everyone involved creates a pseud that's named as Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky for this project) and with everyone's contributions all put together you get a semblance of what PIDW would have looked like
Bonus points if no one else has any idea what happened in a previous wife plot, so the story is not at all coherent towards the later chapters, because I fully believe Airplane had no idea what the fuck he's written before as he got to the end of PIDW
Someone is assigned to write the final shitty ending that made Shen Yuan so mad he died and transmigrated
If anyone wants to contribute to PIDW after the project, the collection could remain open but moderated to make sure chapter numbers/wife numbers stay consistent and that's about it
Obviously this would be a huge project to wrangle and would need a lot of people involved to actually make it work and take a lot of time, so if this is something people are actually interested in, it would more than likely not be able to come to fruition until the start of 2025 at the absolute earliest with all the prep work it would take to get a project like this accomplished but I thought I'd throw it out there to see if people would be interested, so reblog to spread the word if this is something you'd like to see!
Once again, if someone has already done something like this please let me know, I've only been in this fandom for like a year and a half so I'm aware that a lot of fandom events have occured before my time in the fandom
#svsss#luo binghe#sammi speaks#airplane shooting towards the sky#pidw#proud immortal demon way#poll#tumblr polls#fandom event#fandom#fan event#if this gets enough yes votes ill make a separate blog or hell even a Twitter account and send out a formal interest check/timeline
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A Guiding Hand 5
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, violence, abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won’t let you give up so easy.
Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background
Note: I'm a sleepy baby.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
Another unit done. You’re not certain how you’ve kept it up but you’re just waiting for your motivation to fizzle out. Each activity, each page, you teeter on the edge of oblivion. Workbook Five is almost complete and Six will be the final for the course. There’s a shell of disbelief around you. You really did it.
Well, not quite yet.
You sit back and stretch your neck and shoulders. Your teachers always told you to stop hunching but your shoulders always curled forward and your neck sunk anyway. Not out of defiance, just to make yourself small, maybe even, invisible.
You stand, fingers cold and slightly numb. It’s a rainy day and the cold seeps in as your mother keeps the radiator off. You tuck your hands into your hoodie sleeve and find your slippers, a faded old pair that used to be somewhat fluffy.
It’s quiet. You haven’t heard your mother at all. It’s not too unusual. After a binge, sometimes she just sleeps all day and night. You don’t like it, you don’t like that it’s normal, but it’s just how she is. How it is and always will be.
Well, you’re trying to change yourself. You can’t change her or this place.
You open the door slowly and peek out. A habit. You emerge quietly and rub your nose with your cuff, sniffing behind your sleeve as you shuffle into the kitchen. You do your best not to make too much noise as you fill the kettle. You have a few more bags of green tea, the you’re all out. You need to go back to the grocery store but the food credits won’t come until next week.
You turn the dial on the stove and lean against the front as the kettle sits on the back burner. You close your eyes, groggy and slightly dizzy. You’ve been staring at numbers for so long, you don’t even know what time it is. Morning at night, you can’t tell by a glance through the gray window.
You yawn again. Maybe chamomile might be a better choice. You lift your head and lean back on your heels as you mull the decision. The floor creaks with your weight as you shift indecisively. You’re not even sure you have any left.
As you back up, you collide with something, someone, else. You grunt as suddenly there’s a clamp around your neck and you’re shoved forward against the stove. You brace the edge, careful not to touch the top as the heat from the burner radiates across the metal.
Lee’s chuckle brushes over your hair, “there you are, girl. You been hiding.”
“Eek, no--” you squirm and writhe.
He’s too strong. He pushes harder and you’re forced to bend, precariously hovering over the stove, the kettle not far from your cheek. You squeak as your slippers scuff on the floor between his feet.
“Please--”
“You should be begging,” he snarls, “little girl like you, messing where she shouldn’t be.”
“I’m sorry,” you squeal, “you were hurting her--”
“Ain’t none of your business, is it?” He jolts you and you nearly hit your head off the back of the stove. He grabs your wrist with his other hand as he pinches your neck tighter. “Your mama likes it rough, don’t ya know? Walls ain’t that thick.”
You whine and struggle to resist him as he brings your hand up, angling it towards the kettle as you hear that water starting to hum. You can feel the heat roiling from it. You push back against him, pressing your hand to the back of the stove to get better leverage.
“Want me to hurt you? Is that it? Tired of just listening,” he snorts, your hand shaking close to the kettle as you babble, “suppose like this, won’t be too bad.”
He wiggles his pelvis against you and you hiccup in fear. You twitch and he shoves your hand against the kettle. You cry out as it scalds your skin, steam hissing through the spout and towards your face. Your eyes well and you gnash your teeth.
“Pl-please,” you plead and he lets go of your arm, framing your hip instead.
He pulls you back against him, “Mmm,” he shakes his hips again, “think I could. You ain’t bad from behind.”
Horror erupts up your throat as you scramble desperately, trapped by his weight. You grab onto the handle of the kettle, even as your burnt flesh screams, and you hurl yourself back. He staggers as you swing the heavy vessel in his direction but it only splashes on your slippers as he dodges away from you. A flare of anger lights up his blue eyes.
“Ha,” he sneers at you, “you’re funny, girl. Got a whole lotta fight for nothing. Far as I can tell, ain’t no other man around to want you. Not even your daddy.”
You lower the kettle, breathless and terrified. The sting of his word wounds more than the blistering flesh on your fingers. You shake your head.
“Leave me alone,” you croak.
“Hmph,” he curls his lips, “just you wait,” he eyes you up and down.
You stand, paralysed by the stove. He stomps away and you watch him go, not daring to move. When you hear your mother’s door slam, you shakily set the kettle on the countertop. You turn your hand over an examine your palm, the sight of it adding to the agony.
You don’t know how you can write now.
📓
You tap the mousepad twice to get it to react. Your poorly wrapped hand makes everything double the task. You huff as you switch hands, awkwardly navigating to the email icon. You expand the window and find a new email. Professor Smith.
‘Thank you for your last submission. I have reviewed your work and would like to provide feedback via Zoom if possible. Please provide times which work for you.
Looking forward to speaking again.
Take care,
Raymond’
As usual. He is very direct. You can almost appreciate that about him and yet it does not rein in your paranoia. Feedback via Zoom? Why? Can’t he just write it down? Did you do something wrong?
Ugh. You slump and stare at the keyboard. It can’t be avoided. You haven’t even started Six because of your hand. Maybe a review would be helpful. Besides, it would be a waste to give up now. It wasn’t so bad before, was it?
You hit reply and key in your response slowly with one hand.
‘Hello Professor,
I can do anytime tomorrow.
Thank you.’
It isn’t the most academic or professional response. You don’t know what else to say. You have no schedule to adhere too, you can only hope your mom isn’t making a racket.
You send and close up the laptop. You have to rewrap your hand. It’s really hurting but you’ve been rationing the Polysporin. You just want it to heal quick so you can finish your work.
📓
Professor Smith confirms for nine in the morning. You make sure you’re awake but your head is pulsing. Your sleep schedule is all off. You opt for a plain long-sleeved tee over the hoodie, trying to appear as presentable as you can. Nothing you own can compare to his tidy attire; you recall his sweater and stiff collar. Often, you find yourself wilting over how he must think of you. Just like everyone else does, you suppose.
You get set up. Your room isn’t too bad. You’ve been trying to keep up on it. Your laundry is in a basket although the bookshelf is getting a bit cluttered again. Oh well, he won’t be able to see much around you.
You open the laptop. Ten minutes to go. You can hardly sit still. Your anxiety peaks as you hear your mom’s voice from down the hall. It’s early for you, but even earlier for her.
There’s a knock at the door, “honey, do we got any coffee left?”
“Mom,” you get up and go to the door, cracking it open, “I left enough for a pot in the tin. I’m still waiting on the credits.”
“Oh,” she smiles through the narrow space, “Lee musta used them the last of it.” She smiles. She’s drunk. She hasn’t just woken up, she’s been awake all night. She turns and waddles away unsteadily, “baby, we got no coffee.”
You sigh and shut the door. You go back to the computer. Please don’t make a ruckus. You don’t need another scene.
You click the meeting link and fidget. You’re not ready. Are you ever? Life is just doing things you’re unprepared for.
You wince as Professor Smith appears on the screen. He greets you by name and you return a ‘hello, professor’.
“Good morning?” He asks brightly.
You shrug, “yeah, I guess...” you look one way then the other, uncertain, “how are you, professor?”
“Great, thanks for asking,” he reaches for a tall mug and takes a sip before exhaling, “so, I suppose you would just like to get this over with.”
“Um, no, er, I...”
“Not saying anything about you,” he assures as he leans forward, crossing his arms over the desk. His eyes scan through his lens and you realise he must be reading something on the screen, “you’ve done wonderful work. I especially wanted to high light a few things.”
“Oh, uh, yeah, I probably made some mistakes,” you clumsily click around as his image remains in the corner of the screen. You hiss as your fingers throb and open the workbook.
“On the contrary, it’s perfect. In fact, you’ve managed to bring my own error to light. I was certain at first it wasn’t me but I went in a redid the work for Problem Eight. Clever.”
You sit back and nod, surprised.
There’s a thump and your mom’s voice, met by Lee’s rumbling timbre. Muffled enough that their words can be deciphered but you worry it is still heard through the microphone. You clear your throat and move closer, sitting up as you bring your injured hand to rub your neck.
“A lot going on?” Smith wonders.
“No, sir, sorry, I wasn’t expecting it,” you shrug and scratch your cheek, the gauze rough and loose.
“Oh my, what’s happened there? Are you alright?”
You pause and jerk as another bang sounds and your mother’s cackle erupts, stopping sharply
“Yes, sir,” you quickly hide your hand, “I had an accident. Um, I was going to ask... it’s taking me a while to type...”
“By all means, we may discuss accommodations,” he assures, “I am, as ever, patient. Most importantly, you must take care of yourself.”
“Sir,” you nod and your door rattles in the frame. “Um...” you glance over your shoulder. Why now?
“Are you certain this isn’t a bad time?”
“I’m sorry,” you face the laptop, “I didn’t think--”
“Hey, you lazy bitch!” A hard rap shakes the door behind you, “get out here.”
You go wide-eyed and stare at the screen. No. Please. Not again.
Professor Smith’s brow ripples and his jaw squares, “it seems you’ve got some chaos over there.”
“It’s just... I... one sec,” you bring the call full screen and search for the controls and hit mute. You stand up and go to the door, trying to block it out with your body. You open it as Lee smirks back at you, “we’re all outta coffee. Why don’t you go and get us some?”
He holds up a ten dollar bill and flicks it against your nose, “y’ain’t got nothing else to do.”
“I’m busy,” you say, “can it wait a few minutes?”
“Busy?” He snips, “with what? You can watch your damn TV when you get back.”
“Sorry, but I can’t--”
“Lee, she’ll go in a bit,” your mother preens from down the hall.
“I got a damn headache, she can drag her ass out right now,” he barks back at her, “it’s my money, ain’t it?”
“Please, I’m... just after.”
“Why? Whatcha hiding?”
“Nothing, it’s school--”
He shoves the door and you stumble back, hitting the bookshelf with your shoulder. He bulls past you and looks around, his eyes narrowing on your laptop. You turn to see the professor watching intently from his side of the call and you scurry to catch up with Lee and stop him. He elbows you away, tossing you against your bedframe. You hit it and crash to the floor.
“I see, you entertainin’,” he scoffs and hits the keys several times.
“Who are you, sir?” Smith asks, his tone cool but dangerous.
You hear the little blip that signals the mute is off, “should ask ya the same. Whatcha doin’ talkin’ to young girls, eh?”
“Is she your daughter?” Smith challenges and gets a chortle in return.
“Nah, just a whore like her mother, ain’t she? You’d know better than me.”
You get to your knees and grab at his hand, “please, he’s my professor.”
“Don’t lie to me. Irene,” he spins as he hollers for your mother, “come see what your daughter’s doin’." He pauses to grit over his shoulder, "If ya gonna be whorin’ on the internet, you should at least try to get some money outta it.”
“Huh, Lee, leave her alone,” your mom appears in the doorway and you crawl past Lee, keeping low as you reach up to keyboard and feel around.
Professor Smith says your name but you hold the power button until the laptop fan slows and quiets. You sit back on your heels and look over as Lee peers around your room. Your mom sways in the doorway.
“Who was that?” She asks.
“I told him, it’s my professor--”
“You ain’t smart enough for all that book stuff,” Lee growls, “go on and keep lyin’.”
“Why do you care?” You sniff.
“Honey, don’t be rude.”
“Mom,” you whine, “he shouldn’t be in here.”
“Lee, baby, I’ll go get the coffee,” she redirects. You hang your head.
“I want her to go,” he turns and throws the ten at you, “the way she leach of ya, it’s the least she can do.”
You wince, “it’s okay, mom, I can go.” You grab the desk and stand, swiping up the bill. You need to get out of this apartment. Staying will only make him angrier. Staying will only make she shame worse.
#raymond smith#dark raymond smith#dark!raymond smith#raymond smith x reader#the gentlement#series#fic#a guiding hand#dark fic#dark!fic#au
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cry baby | chapter nine
Summary: The makeover.
Warning: ???
Word Count: 939
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A/N: She's a short one but I hope it's okay! Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B
Tags: @buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @thetorturedbuckydepartment
Each day that followed that evening in the bar, you battled to maintain your composure at work or amongst your friends. Your anxiety was only fueled by the continued whispers of accusations and suspicions. You needed a distraction, something to pull you out of the spiral of worry and guilt. And, you knew the ladies just for the job.
One evening, after a long day, you sent a text to your group chat consisting of only you, Natasha, and Wanda. You missed your girl's nights in with them, the times you shared laughter, stories, and secrets. As you typed out your text, an idea struck you - a makeover. You could use a refresh, something to break free from the cloud that loomed over you.
The next day, you arrived at their apartment with excitement and anticipation. “Ready to become a new you?” As you entered the apartment, Natasha teased as she gestured toward the many outfits and makeup products in the living area.
The apartment was cozy and inviting, the rooms filled with colors and their personal touches.
“Let’s get started!” Wanda exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as she entered from the kitchen, drinks in hand. “First things first, we need to pick out some outfits!”
You spent the next couple of hours trying on clothes, you laughed as your friends debated which of their styles suited you best. After some compromise between them, they settled on one of Wanda’s sleek, red leather jackets paired with Natasha’s dark jeans and a pair of combat boots - a look that you thought screamed confidence and strength.
You sat down as they got to work with your hair and makeup. Nat worked on your hair while Wanda focused on your makeup. “You know,” Natasha began, her voice gentle as she brushed your hair. “This isn’t going to make you any stronger, you’re already the strongest out of us all.”
Wanda nodded in agreement. “You’ve handled everything with grace, this is just for fun, okay?”
As they continued their work, you tried to stop your eyes from welling from their words. You knew this wasn’t about your physical changes, it was about embracing a new mindset, one where you could face the world without crying.
~
When you were done, you hardly recognized yourself. Your hair was styled with braids and a bandana, and your makeup accentuated your features. It gave you a bold, darker look. You felt like a different person, like someone who wouldn’t have trouble saying no to anyone.
“I don’t even know what to say,” you murmured, turning to face your friends. “Thank you,”
“Don’t thank us yet,” Natasha grinned. “We’ve got one more surprise for you.”
She led you to the front door as Wanda picked up an extra helmet and her keys. “We’re going to the bar,” she said, gesturing you to follow them. “Time to show off your new look.”
~
A hush fell over the bar as you stepped into the familiar room. An intensity rose as all eyes turned toward you and your friends. They flanked you as you walked toward your usual booth, their presence giving you an extra boost of confidence.
You noticed Steve, Bucky, and Sam were already at your booth. Their eyes widened in surprise as they saw you. The rest of the bar had similar reactions, quiet gasps and murmurs of appreciation filled the air.
“Wow,” Steve said, standing up to hug you. His expression shifted as he noted the lingering stares from the others in the bar. His protective instinct reveals itself. “You look amazing, Sis,”
Sam nodded in agreement, a playful smirk spreading across his face.
You blushed, “Thanks, it’s all thanks to Nat and Wanda.” Giving your friends a small smile, you gestured you were going over to the bar.
As you settled by the bar, Bucky’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the attention you were attracting. A group of men at the bar began whispering, and he noticed their glances toward you. He stood up and walked over to you, his large frame looming over you.
“You okay with all this attention?” he asked, his voice low as he leaned in closer. His gaze flickered back to the men, his jaw tightening.
You nodded, trying to keep your eyes dry.
He sighed staying by you as you ordered drinks for your group. The scanning of the room from Bucky didn’t stop, he sent uneasy glances toward anyone who looked your way.
You tried to explain to him how the makeover had made you feel like a tougher version of yourself, more like Natasha and Wanda. You hoped that maybe not looking like the ‘weak link’ would make you no longer be, just that.
After what felt like a while, he leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper. “So, you’re telling me,” he muttered, his breath warm against your ear, “you’re not going to cry if someone like… Rumlow came in here now and got this close to you?”
His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, and a shiver involuntarily rushed down your spine. “Bucky, I…”
He didn’t let you finish, your gaze locked with his as his face was mere inches from yours. Your heart raced at the intensity between the two of you. “What about this close?” he asked as he moved his hand lower, grazing his fingers lightly over the exposed skin on your neck.
You swallowed hard, trying to steady your emotions. “No… I know you’d never let him this near.”
A smile spread across his face, his expression softening. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, “That's my girl.”
---
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#cry baby series#cry baby#bucky barnes x cry baby#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#bucky x female reader#bucky fanfic#james bucky barnes#bucky fic#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x rogers!reader#biker!bucky#biker au#steve rogers x sister!reader
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Pt.6 || She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid x Goth!reader]
First part, Previous part, Next part
A/N: Ah okay this took a bit longer than expected. I really wanted to do this justice but that took a while oops. I really hope you enjoy it. A bit more good vibes towards the end. There are more plans for part 7 with backstory so hopefully that will be up and going soon. Maybe some spice? If people want? Let me know. Remember to please reblog when you can!
WC: 3,4K
Tags: alt reader, little hurt comfort, past relationships, making up, hurt comfort-ish, fluff.
Warnings: Mentions of past relationship, toxic relationships, hinting at nsfw
Your POV
When Spencer left the office it took a few moments for Penelope to return. Being alone in the room, surrounded by computers and Garcia trinkets, it was still incredibly lonely. You felt horrible, tears were threatening to fall from your eyes. Like they had been the entire day. You felt like a dick. Spencer had been nothing but nice, kind, looking at you with those big brown eyes like you were the only person in the world. It was just unfair that when you finally had something, someone, to look forward to talking to, that it was all taken away. You were at fault too of course. It wasn’t just the situation, you actively pushed him away but only to keep him from getting hurt.
The door opened, Penelope walked in looking concerned. “Boy genius looked upset. What happened? What did you tell him?” the two questions you really didn’t want to answer. “I just told him I needed time to work on something. Fix something.” You answered after swallowing thickly. “You didn’t tell him about Tommy?” You told Penelope before about how bad your ex was, how he had snuck into the building and left you a ‘gift’. It was always about Tommy. He made sure of that. Popping back into your life when things went well. Squashing any form of happiness down, stamping it into the ground.
The thing with Tommy was that when you had been together he had been almost dismissive when it came to showing it. Your relationship felt shallow, like you didn’t know the person you had been with. Only discussing the basics, never truly getting to know each other on a deeper level, when you did it was a rare occasion and you both used it against each other. You had a different kind of passion though. There was undeniable tension in the way you teased and called eachother names. It was a love hate relationship if you had ever seen one. Hate seemed to be your way of love with him. It lasted 6 months.
You don’t even remember how it came to be, because it happened on a drunken night out with a mutual friend. A former friend. Who made a comment about the way you berated eachother like an old married couple. You made a comment about how you’d never do him. He made a comment about how you would be lucky to have him. Jabs were made, words were said. Then suddenly, the next morning, you woke up in his apartment with your clothes discarded on the ground and black lipstick marks on his neck. Somehow it happened, and you don’t remember hating it, nor the time after. That was the start of it.
You do remember hating the end of it. Every week ended with a fight, and not in the way you had been used to. This didn’t have the usual quips and remarks, no it was truly using sore spots to anger each other. Every week he would try to make up, apologize, buy flowers or make dinner. But every week would end the same as the one before it. You were stressed, sick and tired of the continuous flip flopping of his personality. His words were venom, and every week it settled deeper into your body, festering, feeding this growing idea of leaving him. When you finally found the courage, the right time, his reaction shocked you.
He hit you.
He apologized profusely after that. Trying to reconcile once again but that was the straw that broke the camel's back. You packed up the few items you had at his apartment and left. Still he didn’t seem to be able to let it go. Every so often he would pop into your life. Like he had done the weekend before, leaving a gift on your doorstep. Something to remind you he was still there, watching you, following every step you took and swooping in as soon as you got close to someone. Making you relive the entire thing. This time it was a small paper gift bag with a tag that stated he missed you, inside was a jewelry box you didn’t even open. It sat there on your doorstep for 3 days until you caved and brought it inside. Still though, it sat on your dining room table, unopened.
“Yeah… He uh… I don’t want Spencer to be caught in the middle of it. I don’t know how far Tommy is willing to go.” You shook your head slightly, trying to shake away the memories. Penelope stared at you, mouth slightly agape “And you didn’t think that the FBI agent could help you with your problem?” she managed to bring out, there was clear confusion in her face. “Yes, but I need to do this myself. I don’t want to burden Spencer with this. It’s my thing, and I won’t let him ruin something good again.” You took a deep breath, knowing you might have ruined your chances with Spencer just now. It made your heart ache, terribly so. “I can hack his phone, tell him to back off, put a virus on it so it opens every porn site known to mankind as soon as it gets close to you?” Penelope’s tone being serious made you crack a smile. “Let’s keep that as our plan B.” There was a hint of humor returned in your voice.
You thought about it, you really liked Spencer. Tommy was standing in the way of things for you and you needed to get him out of your life once and for all. You looked to Penelope, “I just hope I didn’t lose my chance with Spencer.” You admitted before you were enveloped in a tight hug. “I’ll keep an eye on him, let you know if our boy genius comes back.” She said as you returned the hug. She was a good friend. The best. Always looking out for you and you so hoped she felt the same about you. You thanked her before you took your leave. Promising to keep her updated on what you were doing.
You: ‘Is Spencer back?’
You texted Penelope the question as you sat in the lab waiting for the centrifuge to finish. It was Wednesday, you had been able to talk to Tommy that Sunday. Talk was a big word. He took your contact as an admission that you still liked him. That you wanted him back. When you told him to leave you alone he got angry. Which threw you right back to the fights that you had with him before. It was like nothing changed for him. Things had changed for you though. You finally realized he didn’t care about you, he didn’t want you back, he wanted the idea of you.
Spencer hadn’t shown up to work again since Thursday.
Penny: ‘No, I wanted to go check on him. I can’t get a hold of him.’
Penelope replied to your text. The ding of your phone pulling your attention back to it. The fact that Penelope, the sweetest, most caring, technologically adept person you knew couldn’t get a hold of him meant he really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. ‘I’ll try and text him again.’ You sent the message to Penelope before quickly changing to Spencer’s contact. Your previous messages sat unanswered.
You: ‘Spencer, can we talk?’ Sun, 16:30
You: ‘Are you coming into work today?’ Mon, 8:38
You: ‘Spencer? Could you please answer me? I want to talk about what happened.’ Mon, 12:45
You: ‘I fixed it.’ Mon, 12:46
You: ‘Please text me when you see this.’ Tue, 15:24
It was ironic. These messages were so similar to what Tommy had sent you when you first broke up. You really didn’t want to become like him. Just when you had finally gotten rid of him. You sighed, typing out a new message. Hitting send you quietly waited for a reply. Turning the chair you had been sitting in. Looking at the phone screen every few seconds, anxious for an answer. Watching the minutes pass by felt like it was taking forever. Until the phone buzzed alive, the screen lit up with a message.
You: ‘Spencer, everyone is worried. Just let me know you’re alive.’ Wed, 12:36
Spence: ‘I’m okay’ Wed, 12:40
You breathed a sigh of relief, the nerves settling down. Finally, he was speaking to you again. Or well, texting you again. Which was better than nothing in all honesty. Missing spencer for 6 days has been torture. No conversations, no lunch together, not even a quick pop by the lab just to get the notes on a case. You didn’t think you could miss someone so much. Especially when you had only known each other for a few weeks.
You: ‘I’m coming over after work. I need to talk to you.’
Spencer: ‘What? You don’t have to. I really don’t need you to check up on me.’
You: ‘It’s not about checking up on you. I want to apologize in person, explain what happened…’
Spencer: ‘You don’t even know where I live.’
You: ‘So text me your address. Or I can ask your colleagues for it.’
Spencer: ‘...’
Spencer: ‘Alright.’
You: ‘I’ll get you something to eat on the way over. Anything you want.’
Spencer sent you his address, and a request for chicken tandoori from a place near his apartment. A smile crossed your lips, he had needed time but he was accepting you coming over. Maybe, you could make up. There was just a little glimmer of hope. You quickly texted Penelope that Spencer was alive, and you were going to check up on him later that day. Explaining you were going to talk about what happened, to hopefully get on his good side again. Maybe have a shot at going on a date again, though that was probably too soon. You realized you had hurt his feelings, terribly so, but it was to make sure you could get rid of Tommy. Without him hurting Spencer in the process. You didn’t know what he would be able to do. An explanation was necessary, for sure.
So you stood in front of Spencer’s apartment door. Bag of Thai take-out in hand. You had texted Spencer before you left the Thai place, letting him know your ETM just to make sure he was prepared for you showing up. Nerves had begun to coarse through your body. The fact he could still be angry with you was weighing deeply in your mind. Though accepting your coming over was a step in the right direction it didn’t mean he’d necessarily want to listen to what you had to say. You just hoped he would be willing to listen. To have a conversation.
You reached your free hand up, knocking on the apartment door. Waiting a few seconds before hearing movement inside. The door opened and Spencer stood in the entrance. His hair was disheveled, a slightly large cardigan hung from his frame, just a t-shirt underneath. His eyes were tinged red. He looked… not so great. Tired. You had really hurt him. A sinking feeling in your stomach, it was terrible to see him like this. You never wanted this. “Hey.” The word came out strained. “Hi.” Spencer said in return, his eyes looked you over. You realized you weren’t looking so hot yourself either. Comfy clothes had been your go to for the past 2 days, a sadness settling in your bones at not seeing Spencer, not hearing from him. A way too large zip up from some band you didn’t listen to anymore, with holes at the cuffs from nervously picking at them in times of distress. You had foregone makeup too, not feeling the motivation for it the past days.
“I brought the thai you wanted. We should eat before it gets cold.” You said, holding up the take away bag with a sad smile. Spencer took a step to the side, “Right, thanks.” He said as you walked past him into the apartment. It was somehow exactly what you expected from Spencer but still surprising. There were books everywhere you looked. The massive shelves that lined a wall were filled to the brim. There was a leather couch in his living room, where a blanket laid haphazardly over the arm. A small table sat next to the window, a chessboard atop with a game configuration.
It smelled like him.
“I really like your apartment, it suits you.” You complimented as you had your look around. Taking everything in as Spencer walked to a small dining room area. “Thanks.” Spencer’s answers were short. Annoyingly so. You walked over to the table, placing the take out on the table. Watching as Spencer got plates and cutlery out and handed you your set. You got all the food out, separating yours and Spencers out and placing them on different sides of the table. You wanted to face him when you apologized. So when you both sat down you took a deep breath. “You w-” “I am s-” Both Spencer and you spoke at the same time. It was so similar to when you had both spoken that Thursday before. You let out a soft laugh, it was borderline ironic that when you wanted to apologize it happened in a similar fashion as when you upset him.
Spencer looked at you with a hint of confusion, maybe a bit of disdain at your laugh, “You wanted to talk?” he said as he piled his plate with the chicken tandoori that smelled so flavourful. “Yes. I wanted to explain, apologize…” you said, slowly putting some rice and chicken masala on your own plate. “I am sorry about what I said. I was afraid you would be caught in the middle of things that would put me in a bad light. Or maybe make you realize I am not worth the trouble.” You started, “I have an ex, Tommy, who ehm… how do I even explain this.” You felt nervous, this was the first time you had actually said something about Tommy to a guy you might like. “Tommy wasn’t the greatest. And when I finally broke up with him he couldn’t let it go.” You watched Spencer’s expression change, you couldn’t place it though, it wasn’t pity. Pity is what you usually get when you tell people about your emotionally abusive ex. No, this was different.
“He stalks you?” He said before you could continue. You were a little surprised he found that out with the words you used. Before remembering that’s what he does, behavioral analyst. Finding answers through just the smallest of details. “I hope he won’t anymore.” You answered, “I talked to him. He found out about you. After we went to the museum together he had left me something.” You continued, “And it made me realize that I didn’t know how far he was willing to go to keep me from meeting someone. I did not want you to realize I am not worth the trouble of dealing with a stalker. Or, for you to get hurt because of something he did.” you fell silent, Spencer was so too. His eyes on you felt heavy. Analyzing every little move, facial expression. “Why didn’t you tell me? I don’t… I don’t think that. I wouldn’t think you aren’t worth the trouble.” He sounded just a little upset. Like the mere thought of you not being worth the trouble was appalling to him. “But you still could have gotten hurt.” You protested. “If I was scared of getting hurt I wouldn’t have joined the FBI.” He answered so seriously. It made a wave of relief wash over you.
Spencer took a bite of his food, which reminded you that yes, you were here to eat too. “So… You’re not mad at me?” You asked before taking a small bite of your own food. It was nice, Spencer was right to order from here. “I’m not… I was sad, a little confused at first. I knew you were hurt too… which is why I wasn’t mad. And I am not mad now.” He explained after swallowing his bite. “I am hurt that you didn’t tell me. That you think I would leave at the first signs of trouble.”
You nodded your head, he had a right to be hurt. “I’m sorry, I was just, people tend to leave. Or I don’t let them get close enough to really know what was going on. It caught me off guard that you were the first. How quickly it happened too.” your voice still sounded a little strained. Speaking words and thoughts that had subconsciously taken up your mind. Ones that you didn’t give the time of day before to fully develop, to acknowledge. Penelope sent him on purpose, she must have known, or had an inkling that the good doctor would break down your walls. His disarming nature, sweet demeanor, his smile. Everything about him made you feel safe. It was terrifying.
“So what did you say to get him to back off?” Spencer asked, seemingly a little interested, though his voice was a little soft. You cleared your mouth, “Well… I don’t know if it worked just yet.” you started. “But, I eventually made him realize how stupid it is to threaten a person who has access to lab equipment and various kinds of poison. Oh and also that if he so much as glances at me again Penelope will put a virus on all his electronics that will cause them to irrevocably be loaded with porn and viruses.” You felt just a little devious, a small smirk playing on your lips. You looked up at Spencer who had his mouth slightly agape, his eyes wide as he processed your words. He looked surprised until a soft chuckle escaped his lips, “Remind me to stay on your good side.” He laughed.
You missed that sound more than you would like to admit. More than you expected.
“I don’t think you could ever get on my bad side.” You said it, eyes softening as you looked at Spencer. His eyes mirrored yours. There was a kindness in them with a hint of sadness still. “I wouldn’t even want to try.” he said those words almost like a whisper. They were imbued with tenderness. It made a shiver run up your spine, a warmth settled in your stomach. “Can we go back to normal?” You asked, putting down your utensils on the table, “Please?” You didn’t want to plead but you didn’t want to lose Spencer. The only thing on your mind was wanting to be close to him again. You waited, watching as Spencer thought for a moment. The silence was nerve wracking. The only thing you could feel in that moment was your heartbeat. The seconds felt like minutes instead. You waited in bated breath hoping he’d be willing to make up. Hands fidgeting with the holes in your sleeves. Teeth assaulting the inside of your lip.
“Yeah… I’d like that.” You let out the breath you had been holding, relief washing over you at his words. Shoulders sagging down as finally relaxation took over fully. “Thank you, I couldn’t stand not hearing from you every day.” you spoke and you watched Spencer visibly relax too at your words. “It was hard to ignore you.” He confessed. “You better never do it again then.” Yeah, this started to feel normal again. “And you better finish your food. You gotta get up early to meet me before starting tomorrow.” You teased, taking a bite of your own food. “Or you c-'' Spencer stopped himself, a small blush tinging his cheeks. It was a little surprising, you didn’t understand what he wanted to say, but he looked extremely adorable blushing. “If you want, we could watch a movie after?” He said, it wasn’t what he wanted to say at first, but it was something that he wanted to spend time with you again. “I’d love to.” You nodded your head yes.
So after dinner, you sat on his couch together. Both dressed in your shabbiest clothes. Your head leaned against his shoulder, a blanket wrapped around the both of you. The smell of Spencer completely enveloping you. Completely at ease. Though still wondering what he really had wanted to say.
Tag list: @luvkatryna @emma-e-a @littlemadamred @cultish-corner @styleiconsize0 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @depressedbutartsy @mikariell95 @jasf444 @queermaxwooo @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @sammy-4103 @thedevioussmirk @pleasantwitchgarden @khxna @mega-kittyglitter-1 @superlegend216 @seninjakitey
#criminal minds#spencer reid#criminal minds fic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fluff#alt reader#goth reader#she blinded me with science#tumblr writer#hurt/comfort#part 6#multi part fic#spencer reid x goth reader#spencer reid x alt reader
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Fallen London Fans for Gaza
okay! we’ve had a lot of people interested in an event like this, so here we go.
this event will focus on raising money for this verified gofundme:
the google form to sign up to contribute art is here. there is also a link to a discord server for the artists on the form. EDIT: if you do not want to join the discord, fill out the form anyway, and message me on tumblr so we can work something out.
the google form to request art is here.
this event does not have an end date at this time! if that changes, I will let you know, but for now, you can donate or sign up to contribute art at any time.
what are the request rules?
no requesting a specific artist.
no sexually explicit requests. if you and someone else would like to facilitate an exchange of explicit art or writing for donations on your own, more power to you! but please do that outside of the discord and/or google forms.
please be patient! requests may take some time to be fulfilled, the people working on them are humans with complicated lives.
unless you receive something genuinely harmful (eg something racist), please do not complain to the artist about not liking what you received.
you can absolutely donate multiple times! it would be great.
these rules are also listed on the google form, along with clarification on specific questions.
if you have any questions or problems, reach out to me at any time.
how will the request process work?
you will donate any amount of money to the linked gofundme campaign
generally speaking, the more money you donate, the more detailed art/writing/etc you will receive in return. specifics are up to the person fulfilling the request, though.
you will then attach proof in the form of a screenshot (with any identifying information removed- please don’t dox yourself) to the request form.
answer the other questions on the form and submit it. I will then share it with the artists in the discord server, and one of them will fulfill your request. they may reach out to contact you on tumblr or other platforms if they have specific questions for you.
when posting your creations, please use the tag “fallen london fans for gaza” and/or @ me! I would love to share what you made.
#aelan speaks#fallen london#fallen london fans for gaza#palestine#gaza#aid for gaza#aid for palestine
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05/30/2024 Daily OFMD Recap
TLDR; David Jenkins; Taika Waititi; Rachel House; GuzKhan; Police Menacing Max: Pride Month; Tell Tale TV Awards Reminder; Emmy Considerations: #Emmy4ConONeill Day; June 3 Fuckery with AdoptOurCrew; FanSpotlight; Mermay; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Today's Taika
== David Jenkins ==
Well, Chaos Dad Chose violence today.
Source: David Jenkins' Twitter
== Taika Waititi ==
Rita's new Music Video came out at midnight last night, and I was planning on just having this one picture, but now I gotta put in the whole video so you can see Taika in his Laundromat glory.
Source: Rita Ora's Instagram
youtube
Source: Kiaora29's Twitter
== Rachel House ==
Rachel out with friends <3
Source: Rachel House's Instagram
== Guz Khan ==
Quick Guz Khan sighting!
Source: Guz Khan's Instagram
= Reminder to Vote =
You can vote for the Tell-Tale TV Awards every day! Please do! Let's get OFMD and Rhys and Ruibo an award! Vote here.
Source: SaveOFMD Crew Instagram
= Upcoming Emmy Considerations =
Today 5/31/24 is the push for #Emmy4ConONeill! You can get useful graphics on the Our Flag Means Fanfiction linktr.ee or make your own! The biggest goal is to make #Emmy4ConONeill Trend!
Rhys is up next on June 1! and Taika on June 8!
== June 3 Fuckery with Adopt Our Crew ==
Our friends over at @adoptourcrew will be pushing #DontStreamOnMax with any other relevant hashtag (#OurFlagMeansDeath, #SaveCoyoteVsAcme) on June 3rd during the Stockholder Meeting! Feel free to come out for the fuckery if you can!
Source: AdoptOurCrew Instagram
== Max Menacing: Pride Month ==
Thank you to @patchworkpiratebear for sharing these, there's lots of posts you can go to and polite menace max on for trying to make money off of pride month after cancelling OFMD and other queer shows. Feel free to hop onto your favorite platform and "unleash hell".
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/reel/C7mTElVseN1/?igsh=MWVubW8wM3lzZmZseA==
Tiktok: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeVFwdJb/
Twitter: https://x.com/StreamOnMax/status/1796211911052161511
==More Under the Cut==
== Fan Spotlight ==
= Cast Cards =
Tonight's cast card is our very near and dear Jes Tom! Thank you so much @melvisik for making sure they get their spotlight!
== MerMay ==
Today is the final day of Mermay! Have you filled out your Bingo cards? If you've done any please be sure to tag @bizarrelittlemew! I've really enjoyed this month's prompts and so many wonderful submissions for them! Thank you again Ida for putting this together!!
= xoxoemynn =
Our dear friend @xoxoemynn put together a fic for Mermay 2024! Please check it out below!
= Snejpowa =
Oh you glorious person you, @snejpowa this is going to make me cry. The intensity in those eyes, and the detail, my heart 😭
Day 30: Nine Guns
= Blueberreads =
Huzzah! The absolutely brilliant and delightful @blueberreads is keeping us fed with more MerMay Pixel gifs!
Day 30: Nine Guns
== Eros The Artist ==
The lovely, creative, and talented @erostheartist has done it again! This time with Izzy and the color teal prompt. I love the swallows, lovely connection to Izzy.
Day 26: Teal
= Spencer Does Art =
Poor Edward.. I love the dripping eye make up on this one it really is haunting. Thank you as always to the fantastic @ spencerdoesartt on IG!
= Stjernegaupe =
More vector art from the lovely @stjernegaupe. I saw Calypso's Birthday on Samba's Instagram stories the other day! Congrats!
Day 17: Have you ever been sketched? / Day 18: Calypso's Birthday / Day 19: Rowboat / Day 20: High On a Rocky Ledge / Day 21: Sandwich
== Love Notes ==
Hey Lovelies. It's finally here, it's Friday! I know this has been a bit of an up and down week for everyone, so please remember to take a break this weekend and get some much needed rest. I'm running behind on all the things today so I'd just like send you some love notes from the wonderful @ TheLatestKate. If you don't already follow her, please head over there and do so because she brings me so much peace when she posts.
Happy Friday crew, <3
Source: The Latest Kate's Tumblr
== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==
Well, couldn't resist the Taika lean back and stare gif tonight, my contribution of ridiculous pairings is poor Rhys and the anal beads (and not knowing what they are).
Darby Gif by the absolute ultimate Rhys Rhysource, @wastingyourgum
Taika Gif by one of the best folks @eddie-redcliffe
#Youtube#ofmd daily recap#rhys darby#taika waititi#david jenkins#rachel house#guz khan#adopt our crew#our flag means death#ofmd#save ofmd#long live ofmd#finish our stories#polite menacing#emmy considerations#emmy4cononeill
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the belly dress 💗
“zahara is wearing saturngalore’s first cc recolor—the belly dress. the belly dress is a strapless bandeau dress with a body heat map design that highlights the abdomen or “belly”. the dress was intentionally designed to be a bold and colorful statement piece that emphasizes and normalizes fatness in all its glory. it comes in over 20 swatches with unique color combinations that range from very subtle to the more visually striking. how will you wear your belly?”
this recolor is inspired by these dresses made by the plus sized fashion brand @/sized, my own personal desire of seeing an actual fat body on heat map dresses, and an failed edit attempt from last year. i made this dress last august but i was too nervous to release it. but now, im incredibly excited and proud to personally release something that is specifically so fat-centered like i promised in this post. the dress looks best on fat sims so hopefully this encourages y’all to create more fat sims!!! if you need any help with making fat sims, pls check out my resource list and wcifs! enjoy!!! <3
base game compatible (bgc)
ea recolor, mesh not needed
20+ swatches
teen-elder
both frames
custom thumbnails
disallowed for random
all lods
please tag me if you do use my cc! i would absolutely love to see it! also, please let me know if you encounter any issues with my cc! here’s my tou. thanks!
download via simsharefile (sfs) or on my patreon - ALWAYS FREE!
tysm to cc rebloggers! @public-ccfinds @sssvitlanz
#ts4#the sims 4#sims 4#ts4cc#ts4 cc#black simblr#black simmer#s4cc#sims4#sims 4 cc#s4mm#ts4mm#ts4 maxis match#ts4 dress#ts4 clothes#sims 4 maxis match#publicccfinds#🪐 cc#saturngalore#zahara broussard
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to love a friend - gojo satoru
synopsis: Thanks for looking at the cherry blossoms with me Satoru.
character: Gojo Satoru
tags: gojo satoru x reader, gn! reader, one sided crush, angst, no happy ending, use of y/n, no curses au!
a/n: apologies in advance for any mistakes, english is not my first language, curse you gege this is all your fault, not proofread it's like 1 am y'all I'm just sad and stressed lmao
a/n 2: took some inspo from the song: 8 Letters by Why Don't We.
You are the one who knows me best and the one who hurts me most, yet here we are seeing each other.
“Why do I pull you close but then ask you for space?”
“Am I just hurting myself?”
“Why is it so difficult to tell you that I love you?”
Isn't it amazing?
Like every day we meet without missing a beat, days where we love and hate each other.
“Are we going to change it?”
We don't know yet.
“Can I touch your heart?”
“How can I get closer to you?”
Surely I won't be able to, knowing how you are like with a heart that's as hard as stone and cold as ice. Yet, you made mine fragile like glass I am at my limit and anything can easily break it.
“Will the day that I deserve you come by?”
Let me be your love.
It's always you, you're always the one who hurts me, you make an impact in my life.
“Why can't I make an impact in your life?”
I know that if I curse at you it won't hurt, I know that if I yell at you it won't matter and I know that if I leave you won't miss me.
I know you don't love me and I still want to keep trying to win you over even if it's in vain.
“Could you do me a favor, Satoru?” Although I wanted to look into your eyes at that moment, mine only focused on the cherry blossoms and the soft pink petals that fall softly and delicately touch the ground.
I know he doesn't care about me but I still want him to do one last thing for me, I know I've bothered him too much but this is the last thing I ask of you my friend.
“What do you want me to do idiot?”
“Could you take me outside to see the cherry blossoms?”
I know I'm asking a lot of you, but please just do this for me. I fell for you many years ago and I want to be in your arms this time once and for all.
“Sure, I'll take you right now if that's okay.”
“Perfect.”
Every look, every touch makes me want to give you all of me, but I can't and I never will be able to, I know, I know that I don't deserve you and that I'm not enough for you, but at least my dream will come true.
You took me by the hand to the backyard of my house, helped me go down the stairs and stopped every time I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I'm sorry to give you so much work for this last favor.
We walked to the other side of the garden and sat under the cherry tree, as always sitting next to each other. I didn't like it but since this is the last favor I ask of you, I might as well change things. With some effort I got up from my place and let myself fall gently between your legs sensing that you were startled by how sudden everything was, I took your arms and put them around my shoulders so that you could give me a hug.
“Sometimes I wonder, what would happen if I found a soul like mine?”
“What do you mean dumbass?” Those ways you call me don't hurt me anymore Gojo, nothing hurts me anymore.
“I would like to find someone who loves me like I love that person, I want someone who loves me for who I am and not for what I do or what I can give them, I want someone who understands me and is there for me when needed, I would have loved to meet someone like that.”
“You and your love things.”
I know you don't understand them because you don't feel it the way I feel it for you Satoru, I know you don't feel it and you won't.
The sky was painted in dark colors and the clouds looked even more beautiful than before. I adore sunsets and even more so if it's with someone I love, even if that someone doesn't love me like I love them.
I wanted to tell you what I felt at that moment but I know that if I do you will live with that guilt that you did nothing to love me more and I don't like when you feel guilty, I wanted us to have a future in which we continued playing and being side by side like we've done since we were children but Satoru I can't do it anymore.
If I could be half of what you think of me, I could learn to do anything and maybe then you could love me for who I am.
I always thought I was bad but look at you, you are the best, how much I adore you and how much I love you.
Thank you for all these years my faithful friend, my confidant and my love, I will never be able to thank you for everything you have done for me, but at least I enjoyed all these years by your side my beloved, but it is time to go, maybe it hurts you that I'm leaving or maybe not, but I want to think that I am special to you and that at least in some way you love me, even if it's just as a friend.
Thank you for letting yourself be loved without knowing it.
“Thank you for seeing the cherry blossoms with me Satoru, thank you.”
“No problem, I don't mind doing this with you Y/N.”
You very rarely called me by my name, thank you for doing it in the end Satoru
“Satoru, I adore you.”
For the last time I felt my face get wet from the hot tears that I shed for the last time and for the last time I was able to see the cherry blossoms.
Closing my eyes along with the last beats of this sick heart.
Thank you Gojo Satoru, I love you.
The white haired boy felt his friend's body go limp in his arms, tightening the hug on the other body to feel its warmth.
“Did you fall asleep Y/N?”
His friend was finally in eternal slumber, it's a shame that the blue eyed boy didn't notice and slept next to his already dead friend.
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Beleza "Bel" Muscadine Lore
Gender: Trans masc/genderqueer/(a bit complicated, more info under the cut)
Sexuality: Gay (mlm)
Pronouns: He/Xe/They
Height: 6’2
Age (in 1989 and after “The Big Bloop”): 25/26 (one year younger than Vanilla, “one year older” than Tippy)
Star sign: Aries
Backstory below!
Bel’s backstory
They were born into a wealthy family who cared just a little too much about reputation and appearing perfect. His mother and father had met in Mexico, when his rich father decided to take their family back to Portugal. (His mother is from Mexico, his father is from Portugal) Bel was born intersex, but forced to take estrogen and was raised as his parents’ daughter. Throughout their childhood, they were preened to be a little princess for their family. They were forced to be dainty, proper, and most of all perfect. Beleza’s parents put a ton of pressure on him and would even use physical punishment on him if he strayed away from pure perfection.
If xe cried, xe would be punished. If xe did something impolite, xe would be punished. If xe wasn’t smiling, xe would be punished. If xe dared to defend ximself against xis parents, xe would be punished severely.
So Bel did the only thing he could do… learn how to lie and manipulate. He would turn out to be a master manipulator and a pretty convincing liar. He would be so convincing in fact, that he even tricked Dio into trusting him. We’ll get to that in a little bit though!
Over time, Bel had come to realize that he hated being a girl. He didn’t exactly feel like a man either, but he was definitely more masculine leaning. Bel knew better than to tell his parents that… but of course they found out and punished him severely.
It was the final straw for Beleza… They had planned an escape for years. Playing pretend with their family, putting on a facade of being a perfect, demure, darling little princess. Then one day…
SLASH!!!
Beleza sliced their arm as deep as they could to draw as much blood as possible without killing themself. The room was perfect. Their room was perfect… only perfect in a different way now. Bel had sliced up his pillows and sheets, smearing his own blood on his bed, the walls, the floor, leaving a trail out to the window. With a shaky exhale, xe dressed xis wound, and escaped the prison of perfection… but not without leaving a note xe had written with xis left hand. Bel had figured if they wrote with their left hand, which is their non-dominant hand, carefully enough, then it would look like somebody else’s handwriting. The next day, their mother opened the door to find the gruesome scene. A loud, shrill, guttural shriek left his mother’s throat. She fell to her knees as their father and siblings came running to find what their mother had found.
As Bel’s mother sobbed on her knees, their father found the note. After he had read the note, rage and mourn filled his heart.
Beleza had written that they were kidnapped by a jealous rival, and were going to be disposed of soon. Previously, Bel had made up a story about seeing strange people following them. Their parents were a little worried but didn’t think too much of it. Beleza completely fabricated this story about having a rival who would talk bad behind their back, but made sure not to get their parents too involved in order not to give themself away.
His parents would never see him again. Their hearts were broken and they mourned the loss of their poor perfect little daughter…
Beleza stole money from his parents and left to start a new life as the person we know today: Beleza Muscadine. His birth name will never be shared because that is not who he is anymore, and it is rude to ask. Bel was able to get top surgery, but couldn’t get the exact body he wanted.
One day, they found that there was somebody with a stand who could enchant transgender people to be the exact gender they want to be. The only problem was, that person lived very far underground. The only way you could get to them was if you knew somebody who knew somebody who knew how to guide you to their exact location. It was a very well kept secret, but a life saving one at that.
Bel was able to convince those people to tell him how to get there. It was a long and exhausting journey, but he was able to find this mysterious underground stand user. He was in awe at this person. They had their face covered, they were blind, they were kind to him. They were old and wise, asking Bel everything he wanted to be. Bel told them everything as they took off their face covering, revealing how ancient and how beautiful they were.
Bel was granted the transformation he always wanted; masculinity with a pinch of femininity, androgyny mixed in, both fully functioning sets of genitals (salmacian/sex neutral now, no longer intersex), a masculine jawline, and toned muscles. When they got to his chest, Beleza stopped them… he wanted to keep his top surgery scars. They really meant a lot to him, he was able to grant that for himself. The wise old stand user understood and continued with the rest. Bel awoke and looked in the mirror.
Beleza was everything xe ever wanted to be. The joy, the euphoria, xe had never felt so pleased in xis life! Unfortunately, nothing is free…
Beleza had to give a few years off of their life for this joy. The old stand user has been alive for quite a long time doing business with people.
Later on, Beleza got a job as Dio’s right hand man. Dio adored Bel and so did many of the other servants. They’re very outgoing and care a lot about their appearance and what other people think of them. Dio would whisper to Bel in their ear, “Don’t forget… you’re my favorite.”
Not only was Beleza Dio’s favorite servant, but he thought their stand, Gilded Cobra, was one of the most amazing stands he’s ever seen.
(copy and pasted from one of my rambles)
Bel was one of Dio's servants way back in the day. He was actually his first second in command before Vanilla came along. Bel immigrated from Portugal to Egypt and got a job as Dio's servant for some extra cash and a luxurious place to stay. Vanilla was taken in by Dio, fed, bathed, and given a place to stay under the condition that he will remain his servant for the rest of his life. It was Bel's responsibility to teach Vanilla the ropes and prepare him for being a servant. Vanilla learned all of the things to do, the chores around the mansion, and the daily/nightly routines to follow.
Bel was even the first to introduce Vanilla to Jonathan's head. Vanilla was horrified until Bel had explained everything. He explained to Vanilla how to care for him, what to and not to do, how to pick him up, how to place him back in his resting tank, and everything. However, Vanilla was the one to discover that Jonathan could eat food and it would disappear.
Soon he felt like he was competing for Dio's affections and praise. Bel was always the first to be praised for a job well done. Xe was well liked, xe was popular, xe had the ability to smoothly persuade the other servants beneath him to do his bidding, and most of all, xe was Dio's favorite servant. This tore Vanilla up inside. He wanted so badly to have that love and praise he was deprived of for so long.
Bel found out that Vanilla was jealous of them rather quickly. They absolutely relished in that fact, and would hang it over Vanilla's head. Bel and Vanilla would hurl childish insults at each other and make fun of each others' sense of fashion. Every now and then, they would piss each other off so badly that they would physically attack one another.
Dio, being kind of a jerk, would actually enjoy seeing these men fight over him. However, he knew that the two of them hating each other wouldn't do any good when it came to getting work done around the mansion. Dio scolded them both and told them that they needed to at least get along in public and in front of the others. Vanilla was still extremely jealous of Bel and wanted to be the center of Dio's attention. Unfortunately, his fixation on Dio's affection took a toll on his mental health as a whole.
Bel was still very popular, especially with the gentlemen. Bel could have any fella he wanted, but for the sole purpose of messing with Vanilla, he always stroked Dio's massive....... ego. Vanilla would suck up to Dio so much that the other agents and servants really disliked him. In their eyes, he was pathetic and served no other purpose being there aside from being yet another one of Dio's boy toys.
One day, something strange happened with Bel. He just... suddenly stopped caring about tormenting Vanilla. Bel started developing more of an interest in money, flashy items, and gaining power over others. Dio praised him for being greedy and prideful, but told him not to let all that power go to his head and remember who the real king is.
"Remember who the real king is..." Those words rang in Bel's ears and made xim very upset. Xe stewed in his thoughts for a few days, looking around the mansion and taking note of all the treasures. Vanilla followed xim around as stealthily as he could. Of course, Vanilla is very clumsy and trips over his own feet. Bel heard Vanilla and gave him a scolding for knocking over expensive items.
That morning, Bel waited until Dio was asleep in his coffin. There are several booby traps that they have bypassed many times before. They snuck their way into Dio's true slumber chamber. Ever so carefully, they opened the lid to his coffin. With wooden stake in hand, Bel plunged the weapon into Dio's-!!!
Hand! Dio had stopped the wood would-be vampire slayer with the palm of his hand. Dio awoke from his vampiric slumber as soon as he heard the lid to his coffin open. He had pretended to be asleep to see what would happen. If Dio hadn't been quick enough, Bel surely would've slain Dio.
They both stared at each other for a while. Bel, completely wide eyed and stunned that his plan didn't work... Dio, glaring with his glowing amber eyes straight into Bel's soul... After a few long moments of staring at each other, Dio uttered the words,
"Get out..."
Bel released their grip on the wooden stake, still stuck in the palm of their once-master's hand. They knew he didn't mean "get out of my chambers"... he meant "get out of this mansion."
Instead of killing Bel, or having the rest of his minions tear him apart, he decided to have Bel exiled. Bel was to never return to the mansion for as long as he lived. He was no longer welcome there. Not as a servant, not as a guest, nothing. Bel had very little time to get all of his things and leave. He was gone before Vanilla even woke up.
After that, Vanilla became the man everyone knows today. He picked up the slack Bel left behind. Although he is not as charismatic, attentive, or persuasive as Bel was, Vanilla still got a lot done around the mansion and then some.
Links:
Beleza
Dream about him
Full body Bel
Full body uninfluenced Bel
#bel jjba oc#beleza muscadine jjba oc#sugar crash void bash#tw blood mention#tw death mention#tw kidnapping mention#tw abuse mention#tw self harm mention#jjba oc#villain oc#jjba villain oc#oc backstory#bel my dear#let me know if this needs any more tags please!
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WARNING:
This comic contains BLATANT depictions of INJURIES, BLOOD, and CHILD ABUSE.
This is not directly related to the current running story, but I was hit with a mood to share some... rather unpleasant character lore...
#art#comic#tw: blood#tw: injury#tw: abuse#tw: child abuse#If this needs any more tags or warnings please let me know.
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With over 20 members currently on the QSMP and more on the way, it's almost impossible for a single person to stay up to date on everything that happens, even with help from QSMP's official Twitter recap accounts.
For people who are interested in QSMP's story, characters, and/or streamers but don't have time to watch hundreds of hours worth of VODs, I've created the QSMP VOD Timestamp Archive.
If there's a particular lore moment you missed live and can't find, search for it in the archive!
Timestamps include quotes, notable lore events, and funny interactions. Interesting or important moments from each stream are bolded for emphasis. I'm also adding short summaries for lore-heavy / eventful stream.
I've organized the document so it should be easy to navigate, and you can CTRL + F to search for specific streamers and/or events.
Complete VOD playlists, recaps, and additional resources are also included in the document for people who might be feeling overwhelmed by the amount of QSMP content out there. It's never too late to get into the series!
If you have a streamer you watch consistently, consider writing down important timestamps to help fellow fans! You don’t have to take detailed notes like mine – even one or two timestamps can be a real lifesaver. If you have any helpful timestamps you want added to the list (or even a 1 sentence summary of a particular stream), send it to me via DM so I can add it to the archive.
I am just one person, so unfortunately this archive is by no means comprehensive, but I'm constantly updating things and adding more streams and timestamps to the document. I've been working on this project for a while now, so even though it's not complete, I hope people find it useful!
[ VOD Timestamp Archive ]
#QSMP#Quackity#QSMP Resource#QSMP Masterpost#QSMP VOD Timestamp Archive#Also I saw the comments and tags y'all left on yesterday's post... thank you....#That made me smile a lot :')#It's nice getting feedback and it's nice knowing my stuff is helping people#I know most of the people featured here are the same 5-6 people I'm trying to diversify but good god there's so many frickin streamers on th#I wanna watch Maxo more but his streaming schedule doesn't match up with mine very often#also. My Spanish needs work.#But I'm giving it my best shot!#Also if you have any feedback or suggestions on the organizations please let me know#I'm going to try and start linking to the official QSMP stream summaries they post each day#and then I'll retroactively add those to past streams#because god fobid you try and find anything on Twitter#after 24 hours its wiped off the face of the earth practically
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Request for some Cleo and bigb hurt and comfort based on what happened in last life
I offer no comfort, only hurt :)
#zombiecleo#bigbstatz#last life smp#trafficblr#bobbs art#ask answered#cw violence#cw blood#cw gore#i dont know if these are the right tags#please let me know if I need to add any tags#i know the attack was from behind but the drama here is whats more important
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another Ravenwood RP thing based on this concept I briefly touched on before. Antony ends up dead (again) as a result of this whole ordeal, as Melvin's undead form attacked him (it's kind of a long story but yeah. an undead/possessed Mel is the one they're fighting in all of this fdjkgdfg - he does get reverted back to normal eventually, don't worry).
kinda pushed myself out of my comfort zone a bit with this one, considering that like, "Mel" ended up going for Antony's throat and the idea is pretty gory in nature. but I'm quite squeamish so I couldn't really bring myself to draw much detail. still a super messed-up concept tho. ugh my poor boy;;;
this RP is always just really intense tbh, but I've been trying to get over my fear of sharing some of the more angsty or painful arts regarding the stories me and my friends come up with. these kinds of arts are usually the ones I put a lot of emotion into, so hopefully that comes through the most... even if I don't do a great job explaining things sometimes ><;;
please do not remove caption or repost.
also on deviantart
#oc#antony papadopoulos#rp#ravenwood rp#tw gore#tw blood#tw injury#cw gore#angst#if I need to add any more tags please let me know#either in the replies or through an ask#i'd be more than willing to accommodate ;o;
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