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agentmarvel · 7 months

Note

Can we have headcanons of fem!reader wife x 141 guys and how they each handle her leaving for girl’s night out in a really skimpy dress?

I think they’d all have hilarious reactions.😂

Omg yesssss

NSFW under the cut

MDNI - 18+

♡ Price:

Oh lord, that man is NOT letting you out of the house.

"Where ya think you're going in that?"

gets a little pissy when you remind him you have one girls night a month, and you have every right to wear whatever you want

"Doesn't mean you have the right to show anyone else what's mine, love."

will physically block the door with his whole body, knowing you won't be able to move him unless he allows it

he isn't mad - no, quite the opposite! it's taking every ounce of his self-restraint not to rip that damn thing in half and have his way with you right there on the foyer floor

"John, move. I don't want to be late!" - "Shame... You should've thought about that before you put on something you know damn well I can't resist."

he thinks it's cute when you argue with him, but you both know this ends up with your front pressed up against the door, panties pulled to the side, and his cock buried to the hilt inside you

after he cums, he pulls your panties back into place and gives you a harsh swat on the ass, not caring that your make up is a little smudged or that your legs are jello while he's giving you that smug look he wears so well

"Enjoy your night out, Mrs. Price. Hurry home."

♡ Gaz:

he's on you before you even walk out of the bathroom after you finish your hair

wraps his arms around your waist, puts his chin on your shoulder, tells you how pretty you look

"This dress new? Haven't seen it on the floor before."

ohhhhh, he is so down bad for you, even after as long as you've been together

makes it a point to grab a quick selfie bc he knows it's a solid confidence booster, and he wants you to feel as beautiful as you look

it doesn't really cross his mind that anyone would try anything on you - you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, and he knows who you'll come home to; he knows who's bed you'll be in tonight, who's name you'll be calling in the dark

he even helps you pick the right shoes, even though you know he picks his favorite pair in hopes of seeing you in just those when you get home

ever the gentleman, he walks you out to your car, reminds you to drive safe, call him if you have too much to drink, etc.

he does, however, make it a point to send you some downright raunchy texts and a photo of his more... physical reaction, just in case you needed some motivation to come home a little early

when you get home (early), he's still riled up; he's too impatient to wait for you to make it upstairs, much less to unzip your dress for you, so you end up riding him on the landing until he's too tongue-tied to keep telling you how hot you look

♡ Soap:

you're not making it out of the house. Period.

the SECOND Johnny lays eyes on you, it's over

he's grabby as hell, digging his fingers into any part of you that he can - squeezing your ass, your hips, your thighs, tits, tummy, anything - while he navigates you to the nearest surface

"Yer so fuckin' pretty, baby. Never seen something so fuckin' perfect in my god damn life."

it doesn't matter if you end up on the couch, the kitchen counter, in the back yard; he's eating your pussy like a death row prisoner's last meal until you're crying, trying to wrench his head away with the hair tangled in your fist

he has your dress bunched up around your waist, straps pulled down so he can play with your nipples, but uses the whole garment as leverage while he fucks you stupid

you should've known better than to put a t-bone in front of a starving dog and expect it not to bite

"Go ahead, bonnie; text your little friends, tell them you're not gonna make it, yeah?"

♡ Ghost:

"'course, love. Have fun, be careful, call me if you need a ride."

Simon isn't too worried initially; he knows there isn't going to be a single soul in that bar willing or able to face his wrath should anything untoward happen. but then he actually sees what you're wearing, and all bets are off

that's why he follows you, he tells himself, it has nothing to do with the insatiable urge to destroy your ability to walk tomorrow

nothing trumps your safety, in terms of his priorities. he's simply here to look out for his wife, right?

wrong. he spends the next hour and a half watching you from a darkened corner of the bar while his palms itch with a need to touch

opportunity knocks when you excuse yourself from the table, and he follows you into the restroom, slipping in before you have a chance to lock the door

you're not surprised to see him (duh, you know him better than just about anyone), but you are surprised to find yourself bent over the sink, looking Simon in the eye through his reflection. he's fucking you mercilessly, spewing absolute filth while he pulls your head back by your hair

"My perfect little whore, hmm? Waltzing around in that tiny dress, wearing my fuckin' ring, rubbin' it in everyone's faces that you only open those pretty legs for me."

he wants to cum on your face, but you pout about the possibility of it getting in your eye, or worse, on your dress, so he settles for letting you swallow it instead

his impulses return not much longer after you return to your table; instead, he texts you that he's ready to head out, and you are all too quick to oblige

#john price x reader #john price x you #john price imagine #john price headcanons #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick imagine #kyle gaz garrick headcanons #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x you #johnny soap mactavish imagine #johnny soap mactavish headcanons #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley headcanons #jj writes

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silver-itallics · 4 months

Text

My Favorite Inside Source pt 2

Part 1!

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader

Warnings: smut, masturbation, toxic behavior, mentions of rape, heavy choking, Leon being a grumpy old man, p in v, light mentions oral and fingering (f receiving), guilt (kinda)

!! Contains dark content !!

"do it and do it again..."

Leon is silent for a few moments. You're looking at him like he hung the stars. Really all he did was hang your knees over his shoulders last night.

"What?" He blurts.

He never was the type to think before he speaks. But this doesn't throw off your rhythm, though. Maybe there's more cotton in your head than there is a brain.

"I wanted to say thank you." You repeat, holding up the pan of bacon. "I had a good time last night."

You didn't seem like you had a good time. Leon looks down, confirming that you're still not wearing panties. That's because he stuffed them in his drawer, and your blood is still on his sheets.

For once, you're not the one looking stupid. Leon knows he looks like an idiot, but he can't stop staring at you like you're in one of those old carnival freak shows. But this just makes you laugh. You turn back to the stove, finish off the bacon and put it on a plate.

"I actually wanted you to do that. Sorry I freaked you out. No one has ever tried to do something like that to me before," you're grinning, despite the fact that your words could send you to a psychiatric ward.

Leon just stares wide eyed at you, as you sit him down on his ripped couch, putting a plate of food on his lap. First, you're his rape victim, and now you're his housewife? He's not sure if he should be thankful or not. Definitely not.

He pokes at the plate as you set a cup of orange juice near him. "You shouldn't be thanking me," Leon mutters. His voice is cold, shaggy bangs hanging in his eyes. He can't see, but that's the point. He just wishes you'd disappear.

"I know it's messed up, but…" you blabber on about the fantasy, and Leon tunes you out. You're just like him, in a way; you're both stupid, and neither of you know when to shut up. But at least you're not a monster. If anything, you seem like a sweet kid.

Kid.

Fuck.

"How old are you?" Leon asks, completely interrupting you. Slowly, you blink at him a few times. You look like you're going to say something to him about interrupting you, but instead you just answer.

You explain how you're in college, only a semester in. A smile crosses your face again as you chatter on.

Leon groans, covering his face. The plate in his lap tips, but you catch it before the scrambled eggs splatter on the floor. You take it from him gently, setting it on a cluttered table nearby.

"Did I do something wrong?" You ask, kneeling at his side. Your smaller fingers massage the muscles in his knees, and Leon has to try to push your hands away as politely as possible. He's so touch starved he might get hard just from the innocent gesture.

"No. You didn't do anything wrong," Leon sighs. He's the one that's gone and fucked up, yet you can't seem to understand that. The only thing you've done is started to follow him around like a baby duck does to its mother.

You look at him with big, watery eyes and he bites his lip to stop from groaning in annoyance. Before you can say anything, he cuts you off again.

"Don't you have school today?" He asks, trying to get you to take the hint to leave.

"It's Saturday," you reply, squeezing Leon's knee.

"Go buy me a six pack of beer from the gas station, then," he suggests. Please, please leave, Leon pleads in his mind.

"I'm not twenty-one yet," is what you reply. Leon should've known. God abandoned him years ago.

He doesn't want to yell at you, but he does. "Christ, kid!" Leon finally lifts his head up, grabbing his wallet on the crowded table. He shoves a twenty in your hands, the force pushing you back and startling you.

"Go buy some candy or something. Knock yourself out." He stands up, hoping that'll force you to leave. Maybe he'll take an angry shower. Sometimes that helps.

You clasp the dollar bill in your hands, looking like a deer in headlights. "Do you want anything?" You ask cautiously.

Leon turns, giving you a glare. "Go." With that, you scurry out the door to find the nearest gas station.

As soon as you're out of the door, Leon needs a fucking drink. You've definitely got the same type of parasite that he has, but yours is a more obnoxious, loud one, while his is a silent killer.

He's not sure if he'd rather go at the hands of this parasite or his own.

In his room, Leon yanks open one of the drawers in his nightstand. The one that has the "emergency whiskey" as he calls it. Instead, he finds your stupid panties that he shoved in there on a whim.

He reaches forward, hooking a finger in the lacy fabric. Underneath is a flask of whiskey, which Leon downs in a few seconds. As he does, Leon unfolds your panties from the ball he crumpled them into.

They're pretty. He never really looked at them last night. The panties are white lace, with a small bow at the front.

Leon blames the parasite when he lifts them to his nose. He inhales the same sweet musk from the night before. You.

Your pussy is probably your best feature, in look, feel, and now smell.

The drawer snaps closed, the contents disappearing along with the panties he'd thrown back in.

He needs a shower.

The warm water soothes his muscles, but comfort isn't something Leon is used to. Warm reminds him of you. Your cunt, your tits, you sleeping on his chest.

He switches the water to cold.

That's better. The water makes him feel a little more awake, more coherent. Things stopped making sense the moment he slipped those pills in your drink.

As Leon washes himself, he starts to think that the shower is helping with the thoughts of you. Then he gets to his crotch. He's not gross, most of the time, and actually washes his dick.

But the moment he takes it in his hand, he's imagining your smaller hands around it, the teary eyes you were giving him earlier. Which reminds him of the way you sobbed around his cock, and makes everything worse.

Leon can feel himself getting hard in his own hand. He's literally remembering raping you and getting hard?! Well, you did squeeze him tighter than any chokehold he's gotten put in, but that's not the point.

He slams his head against the wall of the shower, causing one of the three shower bottles to clatter to the floor. Your knuckles tap on the door, startling him even more than his own thoughts. You must be back from your trip to the gas station.

"Are you okay, Leon?" You yell over the running water.

The way you say his name reminds him of when you said it before, hands on his chest to try to push him off. He stiffens even more.

"Fine," he yells back. Nothing about this is fine. Why are you still here? And why is he getting hard to the thought of you again? That was supposed to be a one time thing. Or a never thing, really.

Hearing your footsteps recede, he takes his cock in a firm hand, stroking like he's done so many times before. His hand isn't as tight as you. For a moment he wonders how wet he can get you next time.

His fist squeezes hard on his dick, causing Leon to wince. What the hell's gotten into him? Reluctantly, his hand starts moving again, loosening his grip. He cums with a low groan to the thought of your tits.

Panting, Leon watches his cum wash down the drain. He wishes he could wash you away.

Apparently that won't be happening, as when he gets out of the shower and dresses himself, you're in the living room. You're eating gummy bears, sorting them into piles by color. One of the stupid toys out of a kinder egg is on the floor nearby. God, you're really a child. Not really, but you act like one. Can't believe he stuck his dick in you, now he's watching you make Frankenstein gummy bears.

You look up when Leon enters, immediately looking away because he's only wearing sweatpants. He rolls his eyes, but tries to ignore the way your shyness makes his heart thump.

"Why are you still here?" He really needs to work on watching his mouth. And not raping girls he found in bars, but that's a personal issue.

You look a little sad for a moment, but smile as you pick up some coins and a dollar off the table. Leon stares at you with a look of disapproval.

"I gave you a twenty," he scolds, like you're a child. Mentally, you probably are. Physically, you've got some nice tits.

"I know. Inflation is really bad nowadays," you bite the head off a green gummy bear and stick it to the body of a red one.

"What the hell did you even buy?" This is getting ridiculous.

"Uh, a bag of gummy bears, a kinder egg, and a soda. Oh, I also got you this!" You smile, taking a coke and two chocolate bars from behind your back. They're both different kinds because you didn't know what he liked. Leon watches as you set the items on the table.

"I told you not to get me anything," he's standing over you like he's trying to intimidate you, but you don't seem to notice. When he's not angry with you, you think he is. But when he is, you don't care. You're even worse than a child.

"I know," you chirp. "But I didn't want you to be sad while watching me eat."

Leon goes quiet. Really, it's a nice gesture. Even if it's his own money. He sits next to you on the couch, doing his best to put as much space between the two of you. You eat until you feel like you're on the cusp of a stomach ache, and fold up the bag of candy, then put it on the table.

Then you're lying your head on his shoulder, melting into him. Leon wants to push you away, but he's more shocked when you speak. You seem to do that a lot. Surprise him. He never liked surprises.

"Do you know where my underwear went? I accidentally went out without them," you chuckle, like it's funny. It's not. You're stupid, parading your pussy around in a tiny skirt. Don't you know that gets the wrong kind of attention? But Leon isn't the greatest person to give that type of advice, considering he's the one that gave you the wrong kind of attention in the first place.

"I lost 'em," he lies. Leon doesn't even know why he does. Maybe he wants to keep them, or just wants to get a glimpse of your ass when you walk around his house. He used to take an hour to get it up, but now he's popping a boner at the sight of you. Why don't you just kill him already? Y'know, you probably are already. Slowly, and quietly. He won't know he's done for until his eyes fall out of his skull. Maybe you'd finally leave if that happened.

But like that parasite, he can't seem to get rid of you. Like you're a tumor on his frontal lobe, he can't get rid of you without it killing him or changing him permanently. Seems like you've already done the second one, though. He never thought about taking someone unconscious or even without consent before you. You're like the forbidden fruit, but full of maggots and rot.

What the hell are you even doing to him? He's screwed. But probably more screwed up than anything.

But the worst part is: you won't leave.

The sun set a long time ago, leaving you two in the near dark with some cowboy movie playing on the TV. There's a take out box in your lap from a cheap Chinese restaurant that Leon ordered from. He's not really sure why he did it. You were complaining that you were hungry, and he wanted to shut you up like a baby with a pacifier. Did the trick for about fifteen minutes, but now you've got that look on your face that means you're thinking. Leon didn't know you could do that.

"Leon, what are we?" You ask, clicking your chopsticks together after shoving an ungodly amount of noodles into your mouth.

Leon almost powers down at the question.

His silence makes you start to ramble.

"Well, I was just wondering… because I've never really had sex with anyone. We hit it off last night and I-"

Sex. You think that was sex? Good God, he's really messed up. Or just chose the wrong victim. Leon isn't sure if he'd rather you go to the police or do what you're doing now. Honestly, he'd rather you try to lock him up. Maybe that'll control him. He wouldn't get out of his job either way.

"That wasn't sex," he snaps at you.

You wilt like a dying flower. Leon can't look at you when you make a face like that. He feels too guilty.

"I never said you had to have feelings for me. There's like, friends with benefits," you're trying to convince him to put a label to you. Leon wishes he didn't even know your name. That way he wouldn't have any reminder of you. But you're like a tick, digging your fangs into him so you stay stuck to his skin.

Leon remembers some shitty therapy session he had after a mission. They told him to take deep breaths when he's upset. Ground himself. But Leon isn't a man of therapy. He believes he can't really be fixed. So he yells at you. Again.

"Why can't you get it through your thick skull? You're a victim!" He sets his food down. His appetite disappeared a long time ago. Standing up, he tries to get away from you. But there's really nowhere to go. Especially with the way you draw him in like a magnetic force field.

You stir your food a few times, not sure how to feel. On one hand, you're angry that Leon doesn't seem to get your intentions. But mostly, his words hurt.

"I told you: I wanted it. I don't really mind it… whatever you call it," you sigh, setting your food down as well. When you start to clean up after him is what makes Leon's heart ache.

He's so mean to you, but you come back like a dog playing fetch. Each time, you drop the ball by his feet, a smile on your face. You run and go get the ball no matter how loud he yells or how hard he hits you. You remind him a little bit of himself in that sense. He wants you surgically removed.

"We can even do it again if you want. I'll let you," you try to plead with your eyes, doing everything in your power to get Leon to like you. He doesn't really like anything, especially himself.

Your words make him feel sick, leaving the older man to ignore you most of the night. But without a verbal cue to leave, you stay. You're not sure why you do it, but the next thing you know is you're fast asleep on Leon's ratty couch. At least you're smart enough not to sleep in bed with him.

Reluctantly, you sleep on Leon's couch. The springs dig into your back and you can barely get comfortable. Leon didn't give you a blanket either, so you're cold. The only one you found isn't even big enough to cover you.

Leon can't sleep. Your words repeat in his head, over and over. You're like an itch- the more he thinks about you, the more it bothers him. But he can't force himself to stop thinking about you either.

With a groan, he pushes up out of bed. He needs a beer. His emergency whiskey is gone, since he drank it this morning, also because of you.

Past his bedroom is the living room, then the kitchen. You left the light on in the kitchen as a night light, illuminating your form on the couch. You're an obstacle blocking his way from greatness. Technically, a cold beer. Same thing.

He inches forward, and you shift when a floorboard creaks under Leon's weight. Why is he even so scared or cautious? You're just a kid, couldn't do a thing if you woke up. The thought goes directly to his cock, reminding Leon exactly why he's been so guarded around you.

While he's caught in his thoughts, you move onto your stomach, that tiny blanket doing nothing to cover your ass. God, he wishes now that he gave you some clothes, since your puffy lips are poking out from underneath your skirt.

His mission is immediately forgotten.

Leon beelines for you instead, moving faster than he has in ten years. Pushing your legs wider, he kneels between them, hovering over you. Were you always this pretty? Or maybe he just likes you when you're sleeping. Fucking creep.

One hand holding himself up on the arm of the couch, he reaches around you to toy with your nipples. Last time, he was just searching for an object of pleasure, anything would do. But now he's got this little attachment to you.

This relationship, if it can even be called that, is closer to folie a deux than love. The madness of two. You've got this shared sickness between you both and only the other one can quench it.

Which is a very eloquent way to explain that Leon doesn't know why he wants to fuck you. Or why he's gently rubbing his bare knee over your core.

He's rough still, but he pays more attention to you this time. In his mind, you're almost a person. Almost.

Leaning down, Leon pulls his hands away from your tits, prying your thighs open instead. Slowly he licks you open, tasting the sweet slick you produce. It's not like candy, as Leon's a pessimist. He doesn't like to sugar coat things. But he can't stop his tongue from dipping in your slit and down to your clit until you're squirming and whining.

He wants you awake this time.

Maybe you'll fight like last time, maybe you won't. He isn't sure which he likes better. You're sweet, and it almost seems like you'd do anything for him. He wants to earn that privilege. Even if he's nowhere near worthy of your trust.

You moan softly, struggling to break through the barrier of sleep. Leon's tongue moves faster, holding your ass cheeks apart so he can watch the way you clench around nothing. When you cry out is when he knows you're awake. Your hips shift much more, he's not sure if you're fighting or if his tongue just feels good.

"Leon..?" You mumble, looking over your shoulder with glassy eyes. All you can register is the tingly feeling you've got between your legs. Then he stops.

You're flipped over on your back, Leon above you. He didn't know he still had strength like that. Guess being horny gives you superpowers.

This time he actually undresses you. He's treating you better than garbage, but only slightly. Leon's callused hands are still rough as he pulls and pinches your nipples.

Once you're conscious, you seem to be into it. Leon's not used to that. He's used to being pushed away, ridiculed for his taste and constantly manipulated. Maybe that's why he keeps you around: because you treat him nicely. Or just because you don't leave.

But what Leon is good at is self sabotage. He's excellent at it, actually. Once your skirt is off, he pushes two fingers in your hole without bothering to trim his nails earlier. You can feel him scratch your insides as he stretches you out.

He watches you squirm and cry in pleasure and discomfort, ultimately deciding it's not enough for him. Leon pulls himself out of his boxers, spitting on his hand before pumping a few times.

"You said you wanted this, yeah?" He asks, but it's a little late for asking permission. Before you can nod, his bulky hands wrap around your throat. At the same time, Leon pushes his dick inside all the way to the hilt. You feel like you're being torn in half and twisted like a pretzel at the same time.

"Thought you wanted this," he says again, taunting you. He pushes all the way inside just to pull almost all the way out at a slow pace.

You'd scream if his hands weren't blocking your airway.

Leon knows the difference between choking for pleasure and choking to kill. He's knocked his fair share of people out using the same method he's using on you. You can barely focus on the feeling of him moving inside you when you're worried he's going to kill you.

You trust Leon to an extent, but you know he's unpredictable. Which is why you squirm, thrash, and kick as much as you can.

"What, can you not handle it? Can you not handle me?" He lifts you up by the neck just to bring your body back down to the couch as he speaks. Leon feels like he's losing it as his hands clamp down on your fragile windpipe.

If he was choking you for your pleasure, he'd just squeeze the sides of your neck to cut off your blood flow. Make you a little dizzy. But right now, you can't breathe.

After having no oxygen for a few seconds, you start to run on instinct, panic flooding your body. Leon can feel your walls tighten around him as you weakly thrash in his grasp. For a few seconds, he likes it. But your nails are clawing at his arms, eyes wide and mouth open.

You're terrified. Of him.

The same person that refused to leave his apartment all day is looking up at him in pure terror. Leon slows his thrusts when he realizes all the usual pigment in your face is gone. He doesn't choke you for more than a minute, but it feels like eternity.

You gasp, hands flying to your own throat as soon as Leon lets go. Tears flood your eyes in relief. As much as you talk about wanting to be raped, for some reason, Leon's brain is hellbent on making you hate it. Teach you a lesson, maybe.

He means to say he's sorry. He wants to. But the only words that come out of Leon's mouth are: "you're an idiot for staying."

Part of the sentence is an apology in itself, but he's too much of a coward to come to terms with his feelings. In his job, he was always told he was too emotional. But everywhere else, he's too cold.

Leon shallowly thrusts in and out of you, looking at your tits instead of your terror-stricken face. You're still moaning, but the sound is strained and scratchy, not sweet and soft like usual. Turns out toys aren't as fun if you break them.

You don't cum, even if you tighten around him. Your brain is still too fearful to fully relax enough to orgasm. But Leon does. Maybe he gets off to the fear in your eyes. Just a little.

But really, he likes the power he has over you. Nobody else listens to him, but you do. Why do you do that? You're really unlike everyone else. You treat him differently. Which is why he has to treat you differently too.

He has to break you, but not completely. Just enough for you to understand that he's no good. He's a rotten old perverted man that only has a good ten years left. Only if he doesn't get snapped in half on his next mission.

Leon pulls out, groaning quietly as he busts on your stomach. Your skin is painted in white, like he's claiming his territory. You don't speak and he knows that's a bad sign.

He tucks himself back into his boxers, standing up. You expect him to leave and Leon plans to. At first, he did. But you're looking at him with those big, sad eyes of yours. Leon thinks you look like a trembling baby bunny. Seems like his attempts to push you away don't work. You just rely on him more.

"Stay right there," he mumbles before disappearing for a few minutes. Leon comes back with a washcloth and a glass of water. There's also a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel tucked under his arm.

The bruises in the shape of his own hands are starting to form on your neck. Why can't he just leave hickies like a normal person?! This job has fucked him up so bad that all he does is destroy.

Leon sits across from you, a guilty look in his eyes. You can tell he's sorry, but he refuses to say it. He sets the glass of water near you, wiping the cum off your stomach with the wet washcloth. The action is the closest thing to aftercare he's ever done. Mostly because he doesn't get treated very nicely after sex either.

He reaches out for your neck again, causing you to flinch. Leon curses under his breath, wishing he could be better. For himself mostly, but now for you.

"Why do you stick around?" He asks in a strained voice. Leon almost sounds like the one that got choked with how he's struggling not to cry. He picks up the bag of peas and unwraps the towel to show you what's underneath.

"Ice pack," he explains, trying to get you to lie down so he can place it on your neck. You take a few seconds, but eventually you relax enough to lie down. Leon adjusts the ice on your throat, hoping it'll help with the bruising and the pain.

"I'm not a very good person to stick around," Leon says, speaking more than he has before. He's also being more vulnerable than usual.

"It's okay, I'm used to it," you explain, trying to comfort him. But your confession just makes everything ache more. You're worse than any concussion or cut he's ever gotten.

You make him deal with his emotions.

Leon gives you a look that you can't decipher. His expression holds so many things that he wants to say, that he wants to do. But he doesn't let them out. He just needs to drink himself to sleep and bottle up his feelings to make himself feel better.

"Night, kid," he pats your knee before rising with a soft grunt.

Leon disappears for a few seconds before returning with a few things in his arms. He throws them at you, landing on the couch in a heap.

Then he turns and leaves.

You reach out, touching the soft fabric he's given you. When you hold it up, you realize what it is.

Clothes and a blanket.

Maybe he isn't so bad after all.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon smut #leon s kennedy #resident evil #dead dove do not eat #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #x reader #dark content

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just-venti-ng · 8 months

Note

Hello writer!! I saw that you were taking requests for good memories and bad memories of (word). So forgive me because I am feeling angsty but can I get both a good memory and a bad memory for the word secret/secrets? I will leave it to you to make me cry and laugh at the same time 👌☺️ (Just kidding unless you want to 👀). I hope you have a wonderful day and that life treats you well! See ya around 👋!!!

(ah, I missed you, anon! I'm not sure if you'll ever see this since it's been so long, but if you do, I hope you enjoy! It's kind of a long one!)

"It will be our little secret, then."

That's what the bard had said once upon a time under the shade of a stout oak with a finger to his lips, his feet dipped in the water of a nearby pond where he'd often go to leisurely strum his lyre.

It was the boy's favorite spot—the only place he really felt he could escape from it all in this petite little nation, sealed off by the wind.

Every smile he graced his people with was honest; genuine. And yet only here where the fireflies dance and the water reverberates his songs right back at him did his joy truly glimmer.

To think the little spirit was the boy's only witness.

"And once the revolution has ceased and we're all free to go where we've always pleased, we'll share with them this gift at a most extravagant feast!"

****

Barbatos stares at the feather cupped within his newfound hands, its edges appearing to have been tipped in blood.

How is he meant to show this to them all when the one who wished to see it most is—

"Dead," says a rather gruff voice tinged with disbelief. "You're supposed to be dead."

Barbatos twists around slowly, careful not to lose his balance. It is an odd thing, standing on your own two feet when all you've ever known is how to float.

"Sir Ragnvindr!" He calls cheerfully, putting his arms behind his back and giving a clumsy little bow. "How pleasant to make your acquaintance once more!"

"Inconceivable..." the redhead—Sir Ragnvindr—mutters, his voice a tad thin as it splinters at the ends with barely-contained anger and grief. "Just who are you, anyway?"

"Why, I'm your trusty bard and friend—"

But right as Barbatos takes a necessary breath in order to say his bard's name, he's unkindly interrupted.

"Don't," Sir Ragnvindr snarls. "Don't... say his name." He pauses, his mouth drawn up into a tight frown before he finds the will to speak with the same conviction once more. "I don't know who or what you are, but you certainly aren't him."

Barbatos feels his insides shrivel as those words echo within this new, hollow vessel of his, cutting deep into the skin he's only just donned. He hasn't had time to let it thicken against pointed phrases like this.

I don't know who or what you are...

But as an elemental being born from a single shred of the thousand winds, he supposes he's never needed such a thing as skin before. He certainly can't allow it to hinder him now, even if the melody has been harshly ripped from the song that is his life and left it sounding empty. He as the harmony must rewrite that melody and carry on.

"And why can't I be him?" He asks somewhat coyly, taking an experimental step forward.

"Because he—" At last, Sir Ragnvindr's voice wavers. Wavers and cracks under the weight of watching the most stubborn boy he ever had the displeasure of meeting take his final breath.

"You died," he corrects with a shuddering breath. "I watched it happen with my own two eyes. I etched your final words into my memory, into my heart itself, but I—"

The man clutches at his chest as if to say it should've been me.

"I can't see the world on your behalf," he finishes, the grip on his shirt tightening as if trying to wrench his own heart out of his chest. "N-not... not when you were so young."

You and I both, the spirit silently agrees. You and I both.

With that, Sir Ragnvindr glances around, clearly searching for something familiar. "Wh-where...?" He stutters out, looking around more rapidly by the second. "If you're really him, where is that bumbling pixie that always followed you around, huh?"

First of all, rude.

Second of all...

To think the spirit was that integral to the bard's life that its absence makes those who knew said bard feel incomplete...

It's sweet in the saltiest way, like seawater might taste to a man dying of thirst.

But if that man has never known the difference...

"That spirit," Barbatos starts slowly with a gentle yet sorrowful smile. "Gave its very life so that I might live on. Its power combined with that of the fallen god was enough to resurrect me."

And if Sir Ragnvindr was reluctant for even a moment, it all dissipates into a cloud of fluff whenever Barbatos reveals the feather hidden behind his back.

"It gave me this in its final moments—a surprise it brought for us all whenever we achieved victory at last."

Sir Ragnvindr's face crumples after that as he looks to the clear blue sky with shining red eyes. He closes the distance between them as he pulls the bard into a hug, not knowing it was all a lie from the start.

And the feather slips through Venti's fingers, flying off with the wind like a secret better left untold.

#genshin impact #genshin impact venti #genshin venti #venti #venti genshin impact #ask venti #venti ask blog #nameless bard #old mondstadt #sir ragnvindr #you know the guy from Venti's story quest cutscene that looks a lot like Diluc's ancestor #I just call him Sir Ragnvindr for convenience #I hope that was an interesting read ^^#please tell me what you think :D #genshin fanfic

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kiwimelonsugrr · 2 years

Text

daddy’s girl (dark sebastian stan)

WARNINGS dark!alpha!sebastian, bucky x reader, sebastian stan x reader, oral sex (female recieving), dominant/submissive, unprotected sex, hints at breeding, drug use, alcohol use, alcoholism, lots of smut

this is my fic from wattpad that i’ll start posting on here!!

Hiding.

That's what they called it. They said I'm in danger, but when am I not in danger? This is the second time in two years I've gone into hiding. At some point you have to wonder if they are doing this for you or them.

I rip my clothes from the hangers in my closet. The once pressed dresses and shirts are now getting crumpled as I stuff them into my suitcase. I don't even know where I'm going. All I know is I'm leaving. Tonight.

Happy fucking birthday, Milana.

What fresh twenty-one year old wants to be running, basically being kidnapped on her birthday? I'll answer that. NO ONE.

My stupid fucking parents decided their precious daughter should be taken by some raggedy fuck boy who's covered in tattoos. And has a nose ring. It looks so stupid. I don't know who told him to do that to his face, or his body, but they should've stopped it.

Knocks on my large wooden door interrupt my thoughts as I'm shoving as much as I can into my suitcase. Whoever it is can wait a damn minute. If my life is getting ripped out of my grasp then I can decide who can come into my room and who can't.

"Milana," my mom's voice begs. I stop for just a split second before I remember who stood there next to my father and watched me scream and cry.

"Go away!" I yell out. I listen for her high heels clicking on the floor, but it never comes.

I sit on top of my overflowing suitcase, yanking the zipper as hard as possible. It takes several tries but finally it closes. I slip on a pair of tennis shoes, happy that at least if I can't be with my family I can wear whatever I want. Like my favorite all white Nike Air Force Ones. My mom says they're not proper enough, but you know what isn't proper, kicking your daughter to the curb on her birthday.

I grab my book off my nightstand, carefully placing it into my tote bag. I check to make sure all of my essentials like my wallet, phone, and sunglasses are already in the bag before swinging it over my shoulder. I yank open my bedroom door, my suitcase in one hand and the door knob in the other. My mother is standing there. Her eyes are flooded with tears but none have fallen.

She could at least cry for me.

"Don't," I brush past her, well more like shove past her, and drag my suitcase down the hallway behind me.

Heels click on the floor signaling my mother is hot on my heels. I know how this goes. It's how it always goes. Dad tells me I'm in danger. Dad says "baby girl for your safety you're going on a trip." Dad brings in a bodyguard. Dad tells me to go pack my things. Mother, she stands there silently right next to him, watching.

"Milana, please. Just let me talk to you, darling." My feet abruptly stop and my mom almost slams into my back before taking a few steps away as I turn to face her. "You must know we're doing this because we never want to harm you or put you in danger's way."

I bitterly laugh, rolling my eyes. "Maybe you should think more about your daughter's emotions and feelings and what she wants rather than what you want."

I turn back around and continue my trek down the long hallway. I stop at the top of the stairs, looking down over the foyer. My father's loud voice carries through the open room, springing off the chandelier and straight into my ears. I turn to the right, going down the stairs, my suitcase thumping against each step.

Fuck this house. I don't even care.

My father tries to pull me into a hug, but I take a step back from him, turning to the new man in my life. A deranged looking man, who probably weighs less than me. How the fuck is he my bodyguard again?

"Let's go Sebastian," I grumble under my breath.

He shakes my father's hand and turns to follow me outside. A beat up car is sitting in the driveway. The least they could do is give us something comfortable. Sebastian takes my suitcase from me, tossing it into the trunk before closing it harshly. I slide into the passenger seat, placing the sunglasses over my eyes as he gets in.

My parents are trying to talk to me and I respectfully flip them off as Sebastian gets in. The engine revs to life, but he rolls the window down to tell my father he will have my best interest at heart and protect me at all costs. Bunch of fucking bullshit.

Sebastian starts pulling down the long driveway as I look out onto the property. We pass by the garden and tears finally start pricking my eyes again. I'll miss my personal escape. I quickly suck the tears back in as we exit the gate and begin our journey.

I reach over to turn the radio on and smile when my favorite artist, Harry Styles, begins playing. I hum along to the song, tapping my fingers along to the beat.

"What the fuck is this shit?" Sebastian angrily interrupts in the middle of the song.

"Hey! That's my favorite song."

"Let's get one thing straight. We are both in hell here. You listen to me, no more nice girl.I'm not doing this for you I'm doing it for your father, so you'll sit there and behave like the little princess you are." He shoots me a glare before flicking through the stations on the radio, landing on what sounds like a death metal song.

He nods his head, mouthing the words. If that's what you could even call them. It feels like hours in the car. We sit in silence besides the hum of the radio. He doesn't speak to me and I sure as hell don't want to talk to him. I don't want to be here if he couldn't tell and frankly I don't think he gives two shits about what happens to me. I don't know why my father thought this would be a good idea.

We abruptly pull into a deserted gas station. A light flickers in the window, bright red letters saying open. I'm glad we stopped because I've had to pee for the past three hours and I'm starving, but he really could've stopped somewhere that doesn't look like it's crawling with diseases.

"Come on. Go get something to eat and drink. I'll meet you in there," he slams the door before I can respond and begins pumping the car full of gas.

"Can't we stop at a diner at least or something? Whatever they have is probably filled with herpes," I cringe at the thought and watch him dramatically roll his eyes at me.

"Go, Milana." He turns away from me, not giving me a chance to argue further.

I angrily turn around, stomping my way into the store. A dirty, old gentleman greets me from behind the register and I give him a small smile before turning down an aisle. I stroll through the aisles looking for anything suitable to eat. There's no way I'm getting some food that man made. He looks filthy. I grab a bag of Doritos and walk over to the water, grabbing an extra for Sebastian. I can at least try to be civil if I'm going to be stuck with him for who knows how long.

A presence behind me almost makes me pee myself when I turn around. I look up to see Sebastian standing over me. He grabs the bag of chips and water from my hands, his face giving me what looks like a disgusted look, but I can't take my eyes off the damn nose ring.

"Fucking disgusting," he grabs a bag of sour candies and I follow him up to the register. He lays it all on the counter and points to the cigarettes behind the register as I throw a candy bar on the counter. He looks at it before looking over his shoulder at me. "The fuck is that?"

"It's my birthday, at least let me have some candy. Damn," I turn away, looking outside the windows.

The sun has completely disappeared since we left my family's home. You can see the stars shining bright out here unlike in the city. Hopefully we're going somewhere where I can see them all the time. They're the one thing I miss.

He shoves the food in my hands after he pays and leads me outside. I climb back in the car, looking at my dinner for the night. A bag of Doritos and chocolate.

Happy fucking birthday, Milana.

#bucky barnes #bucky smut #bucky fluff #bucky fic #sebastian stan #sebby stan #sebby baby #marvel #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan smut #sebastian smut #dark bucky x reader #dark bucky barnes

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theninjamouse · 2 years

Text

A purely self indulgent birthday reflection cause hey it's my birthday in 13 days. Forgive me if it's a bit rambly, I wrote it very late last night

I'm 30 years old this month. I've done a lot in my time on this earth. Doesn't always feel like it, but looking back, yeah. I've done a lot of things that most people haven't.

I traveled to Italy with a group of high school girls in my freshman year to perform in the New Year's Day parade in front of the pope. I wore a kilt. The air was freezing and my knee went numb from kneeling as strangers took pictures of us. I accidentally drank coffee and was terrified that I had broken my church's word of wisdom. I got an oversized hat that is now faded and dull and tucked safely in my chest of memories of that trip.

I worked at Disney World as a character performer. My wrist was fractured in my first 6 months by a man twice my height who decided to high five Mickey Mouse as hard as he possibly could and snapped my wrist back. I wasn't allowed to make noise on set, so I held in my scream until I stumbled backstage. To this day, 10 years later, that wrist still gives me pain when I overwork it or when the air pressure changes. I performed in front of thousands, I hugged even more. I had people cry with joy in my arms, I comforted those who saved money for years just for the chance to meet a character and found themselves falling apart because I was someone SAFE I was someone they loved and trusted. I've played peek-a-boo with babies that shrieked that bubbling laugh that only babies have. I've directed the hands of a blind girl over my character head and watched her smile so bright I was nearly blinded. I've tripped over my own dang costume and landed flat on my back and got up to people cheering when I bowed to show I was okay. I've been with Stitch and cupped my hands around a baby duckling to help it over a little curb because my hands were the only ones protected from the agitated momma duck. I have a tattoo of the last day I spent with Stitch on my thigh now because he was my favorite.

I begged the managers to train me in a show. A parade. Anything. I was told that it was up to faceless Casting who had never met me, didn't know that I would train and practice and do whatever they asked of me. I was never given a chance.

I was assaulted in costume, time after time until the final straw was an old man, drunk at 11:30 in the morning who humped me from behind, grabbed my chest and tried to rip my character head off. I was told I should've spoken to the restaurant manager on staff who had already left when this happened. I wanted to file a police report. I was told there was no point.

I put in my two weeks three days later. I received a curt acknowledgement and no thank you for four years of my life spent there. To this day, there is a part of me that absolutely aches to return. That wants to believe that things would be different now. I don't know if my broken body would allow it anymore.

I've skydived. Ten times I've skydived and nine of those were solo jumps. The first time I jumped alone, the terror that grabbed me by the neck had my whole body shaking as the plane climbed higher and higher. When it was time, the door opened, I was instructed to climb out onto the wing. The wind was so strong that my entire body lifted the moment my feet left the little step and I could only hold on with hands that were shaking so bad I knew I wouldn't last for long. I held on until I was told to let go and I-

Fell Down and all the weight, all the pain, all the fear was sucked away with the plummeting wind and I felt ALIVE in a way that I hadn't for years. I only free fell for a few seconds. The harness dug so tightly into my chest and thighs when the parachute caught that I was covered in deep purple bruises for weeks and I showed off those bruises with pride because I had DONE it, I had fallen through the air and landed and survived and I knew I would do it again and again and again.

I've climbed up aerial silks to dangle up in the air, twisted in the smooth fabric. I've climbed and climbed because I had to be strong, I wanted to be a performer that people would watch with awe because just because I left Disney, didn't mean that I had lost the ability to perform, right? I pushed myself too far, I damaged something in my elbow and I am afraid that the pain will never go away.

I've watched my younger brother lose his words. I still remember when he used to speak, in that way that little kids do. He was diagnosed with autism and several other medical conditions. My mom used to record videos of him and ask him questions for the doctors to examine his health and mental state. She asked him what his favorite movie was once. He answered "Space Chimps!" Then he said, "Happy, I'm so happy!"

That was many, many years ago now. He's an adult now. He doesn't speak now, not much more than basic words that we have to prompt him to use. He has seizures now. I've had to drag his thrashing body out of the bathtub to save him from drowning. I've pulled my car over and leapt out of drivers seat to help him lie down and watch for the signs that I need to call an ambulance. Last month, he had a seizure so bad that I saw light drain from his eyes and for a solid fifteen seconds, I was certain I had just watched my baby brother die. Then he breathed in and I nearly fell to my knees but I couldn't because there was still work to be done to make sure he was okay.

My other brother, the youngest of the family has autism and crohn's disease. Whenever we go on outings or family trips, he's glued to my side because I'm the oldest and I raised him when my dad was not allowed to live with us and I was the oldest of five and I had to be an adult at 14 years old. Whenever I visit, he wants me to hold him while he gets his shots done every Sunday at home. They're easier than the ones he used to have to do every month. Those were the hard ones, when I had to hold him down while the doctor tried to insert the needle, listen to him scream and tell him through my streaming tears that I was so, so sorry that he has to go through this. He got taller than me this year. He still ducks his head to my shoulder when he gives me a hug.

I've lost both of my grandmas. The one I was closer to just this year. She taught me to love stories and movies and books and I made it back in time to say goodbye. I had promised her a photoshoot with her and my grandpa. It wasn't the one I wanted, but I did it, with her stuck in bed, tubes attached all over and her smile wide and eyes present. She kept reaching up to touch my red dyed hair. She told me I was beautiful.

I've never seen myself as anything other than horribly, unbearably ugly.

The family dog died a week after she did. I couldn't attend her funeral because I had to go back to work several states away.

I quit that job soon after. I ran from a project that I am terrified to return to because my pain made me act rashly and I am still so afraid to show my face there again.

I spent 45 days in the woods in New York state working as a photographer for a youth camp, assaulted by allergies, a flooding room and mice and snakes making their home in my room. I traveled to the big city alone, stayed in a sketchy airbnb alone because no matter what, I wanted to see Alex Brightman in Beetlejuice the musical and I did not care that I was being stupid with my safety because there was a part of me that did not care if I didn't come back.

I saw it twice. I cried both times. It's a really, really good show. There's a bakery in Times Square called Angela's with the best strawberry shortcake I've ever had.

I have written over 760,170 words in stories written for Undertale. I've poured my heart and soul into my writings and I've met the most unbelievably kind people because of it. My best friends are in my life now because of those words I've written. I had my first relationship because of the words I've written. I've clung on to this little game and the stories that have come to life because of it with the desperation of someone drowning because it has saved my life over and over again. I have so many stories I want to tell, I have so many I want to publish as a physical books I can hold in my hands.

I've voiced ads on the radio. I voiced Frisk in an Undertale video that makes me a blushing mess to watch because I didn't realize what the full context of the video was. I still want to voice act professionally.

I've traveled all over the states as a photographer. I found a ghost town in the mountains of Montana and walked through the foggy and deserted streets and caked my work shoes in mud. The air up there was the freshest I've ever smelled. I once drove fours hours to do pictures at a school with 9 kids in total. I showed them all my gear and explained how it all worked and let them take pictures of each other. Maybe one of them will grow up to love photography, become one as well. Maybe not.

I've had so many close calls while driving drowsy that it's honestly a miracle I haven't crashed.

I think I need the same surgery my mom had for a hiatal hernia. I don't have the insurance or money for that, so I deal with fits of vomiting a few times a month and wiping my mouth and going back to work.

I just got a job with a traveling photography company for dance competitions. I want to hope that this is finally, finally the break I have fought for for seven years.

I am so scared that I will never fall in love and that no one will ever love me as a partner.

They say that your 30's are when you really start to figure things out. I don't know what it will bring. I'm scared and I'm tired all the time because I believed for so long that once I turned 30, it was all over.

But I'm still here. And I'm finding that life doesn't end once you hit 30. I'm trying to look at life as taking things event by event as they come. I'm trying to let go of the 'What If's' that have kept me running and paralyzed for so long. I've grown and I've changed and yet I still feel like the little kid leaving home for the first time at 18, with no idea of what was going to happen next.

I guess there's nothing to do but see what the big 30's will bring. I'm getting the feeling that my life is only beginning.

Happy birthday to me.

#the ninja rambles #long post #hey ninja who asked for this absolutely no one thank you #there's even more stuff but i've written enough i think #i'd like a little birthday cupcake please

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sgtjamesrogers · 1 year

Text

one line, any fic!

tagged by @novasforce :)

some no pressure tags for- @marnz, @dicktective, @shhhenanigans, @fromcainwithlove, @transhorrors, @antagonistenthusiast, and @spector27.

pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the mid point, pick a line, and share it! Then tag 10 people.

i'm only slightly afraid to revisit some of these. and i probably will not do all ten, because some of these don't need to be looked at again.

MASOCHIST - published to lj (!!) in 2010, ao3 in 2011.

"So, this is your big idea of fun? Sitting in the humidity watching snot noised brats play on dangerous metal playground equipment? I think you have the mistaken impression that because I foolishly told you my sob story last night in a fit of insanity that I secretly adore things like frolicking kittens and sparkly vampires."

"Like there's anything actually fun that you'd rather be doing," Luke tossed back at him, making a dismissive noise at him with a crooked grin.

"I'd rather be having a drink," Reid says in an undertone, resisting the urge to put his head in his hands, feeling a dull ache building behind his eyes.

TO LOVE A BEAST - published to lj for the lurebigbang in 2010.

And then there’s the gentlest of touches through his hair, long nails just lightly skimming his scalp. That’s so nice that Luke makes a contented little noise, burrowing back into the arm that supported him. The arm the supported him. Luke sat straight up, suddenly wide awake. Reid’s arms still held the position Luke had been lying, almost across his lap, supported by one arm like a child. He looks at Luke a little sheepishly, letting his arms fall into his lap.

QUALITY PROGRAMMING FOR CHILDREN 101 - first fic published only to ao3 in 2011.

“Jack, we talked about this.”

“No, you talked about this, using your patented long winded, ‘beat around the bush and also my head’ style of conversation, all I did was grunt noncommittally when you finally finished,” Jack responded with a smile at Eliot as he clapped along, and generally had the time of his two year old life. It was almost enough to make David feel guilty about outlawing Barney, except when he looked back at the tv and saw the wide moving mouth and crazily spinning eyes, and nope, absolutely no regrets.

SAME OLD LANG SYNE - published very, very pre-catws, if you can believe it.

The Soldier is gone now, but this man who wears James's skin, he's still not Steve's Bucky either. He no longer has the urgent need to dispatch with Captain America at any means necessary, but neither does he retain any of the memories before that long and terrible fall. It ties Steve in knots that Bucky doesn't even remember his own favorite color, or how he liked his burger cooked, or the way he used to wake Steve back in their Brooklyn; yanking the blanket off him with a mischievous grin and pulling him by his ankles to the end of the bed, where he'd meet Steve's grumbling mouth with his own.

A BEAST OF BURDEN. - published 2013.

"Fuck it," he says finally, ripping his side of the blankets off of himself and stalking over to the door and slinging the door open hard enough for it to bounce back off of the wall protector. The kitten automatically scurries in, leaping up onto the bed of the bed, and Louis follows it like he's approaching the gallows. He flops face down into bed, and falls almost immediately asleep.

When he wakes up, sleep grit in his eyes and mouth and reaches over to check the time the lockscreen of his phone is himself, asleep with Audrey Hepburn perched on top of his head, but that's honestly par for the course at this point.

KEEP BURNING ME UP (WITH ALL OF YOUR LOVE) - published 2014

"But you don't have paprika," she says, eyes closed.

"I have paprika," he groans, like he knows what's going to come out of her mouth next.

"But not real paprika," Barbara answers with a satisfied smile, as if that settles it.

SHOULD'VE BEEN HOME YESTERDAY - published 2/2020, in progress.

The lamp is tragically grotesque, with four taxidermied mice holding miniature instruments clustered around the stem leading upward under the lampshade; a splash picture of a mountain range. Roy thinks that one of the mice has a mustache.

“But wait, look—“

Roy gave the pull chain a tug, and a muffled speaker hidden on the base plays a tinny ‘ Born To Be Wild ’ by Steppenwolf. He grins at Jason’s immediate revulsion; it’s almost cartoonish in the pout of his mouth as Roy sings along tunelessly, using the purple gatorade in his fist as a mic.

AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD? - published 6/2022

“I… can’t get over how good your quads are, dude,” Chris whispered finally, clearing his throat. “You could really crush somebody’s head between these.” Adrian slid back down over Chris’ hips, beaming.

FOR THE LONGEST TIME - published 10/2022, in progress.

With the pack safely in his back pocket again he crouches and curls one firm hand around the back of Hughie’s neck, kissing him sweet and deep.

“See? You wanna taste like that every day?”

Their lips brush as Butcher speaks, and Hughie feels his body starting to light up again.

“Mmmmaybe?” He sighs out, just barely opening his eyes and giving Butcher a malevolent grin. “You better kiss me again so I can be sure.”

#thaaaaank you for the tag friend :)#god i haven't looked at some of these for Many Many a moon #jesse writes fic #tag game

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forabeatofadrum · 1 year

Note

You know what fuck it actually, answer all the writers asks that you haven’t already answered yet PLUS another #25 if you have already answered it bc you can be proud of multiple scenes HAPPY EL WOOWOO WEDNESDAY

I should've seen this coming. I am putting this under the cut because this got long. Again, I should’ve seen this coming.

I’ve already answered 5, 8, 9, 13, 18 and 25.

1) is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

I MEAN... look at my many, many WIPs. I think the main reason for holding off a fic is because I got stuck, or because I want to prioritise other fics. I’m trying to not take on new projects, but instead focus on older ones (famous last words, probably).

2) what work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

Anything written pre-2015, unless I have rewritten them (like This Charming Man or the SBL/Glee crossover). That, except for JTWLYT, even rewritten it’s bad. I don’t mind, You gotta start somewhere, right? Because otherwise I don’t really mind any fics. Like, I wrote a Glee/Animal Crossing fic once and it slaps.

3) what order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

Mostly chronological, but it doesn’t really matter. So yeah I write what I have in my mind. For example with Ljubim te, I of course knew there were going to be 24 chapters since it’s the Advent, so I plotted out a little bit what happens in all chapters and by now each chapter has at least something.

4) favorite character you’ve written

Jack motherfucking Zimmermann, even though I have abandoned my boy and I haven’t written proper Check, Please! fic in all of 2022. I want to finish two Zimbits WIPs this year, though. Maybe the attic vs. roaches debate breaching containment will bring me back to this fandom. Aly, what would you rather have? A person living in your attic, or 1000 roaches living in your attic?

6) something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now

Oh I change things without shame. I do point it out in the author’s note, in case someone notices.

7) when asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

This is a difficult question. WAIT NOT ALY THIS IS ME AFTER POSTONG THE ASK I FORGOT TO ANSWER THIS ONE I WILL DO THAT LARER CAUSE I NEED TO GO TP UNI NOW!!

OKAY ALY I AM BACK (and also hello to others!)

So, this is a difficult question because I have the Fear of Being Perceived by people I know IRL. Not necessarily because I think they will judge me, but this is just something I’ve ever had. This is also why I am not going to karaoke night tonight. As a result I do not tell people I write, but not because I am embarrassed. I have just always kept my online and offline lives separately, you know? And this has only grown over the years. I have, like, one person I know IRL follow my personal blog and I created this blog because I do not want him to see my stuff. It’s literally in the bio of this blog. This is also why my name isn’t on here, although I do not mind when people use it in asks or replies. It’s not foolproof, I am aware, but it’s how it is.

But I am also fucking proud of my work and I an enthusiastic. This is why I love ask games like this or communites on Discord. I put a lot of time and effort into my work so of course I love to blabber about it. The person I mentioned above? Yeah, he knows I write fic. But I made him promise to not go look for it. Now I did meet some people who unabashedly talk about what filth they post on AO3. And I told these people I write fic to. But I am always feeling that hesistant feeling. I told them vaguely about Bakery fic and So Much Better, but I am never going to send them the link so if they want to find it, they can, but I will not be the one giving my AO3 away. (Rip. I never kudo their fics either for this reason, cause my AO3 account will pop up).

Aka it is just kind of weird.

10) write in silence or with background noise? with people or alone?

I CAN NEVER WRITE WITH PEOPLE AROUND. This is why, when I visit my parents’ house for the weekend, I write less. I recently told Jenna (@thnxforknowingme, not Ushkowitz) that I am shook that she can write at work. I cannot relate.

I don’t like silence in general. I always have sound on, but it doesn’t really matter what. I am currently listening to The Last Five Years lockdown version, but I also just put on video essays that I have seen before, or gaming music, or YouTuber content. Only when I have a specific song/playlist for a fic, I tend to actively choose what I put on, like the playlist for River fic was on repeat during the writing. And Nothing Matters When We’re Dancing is my song for “damn Baz, you live like this”/Time After Time. That kind of stuff.

11) what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

Uh. Everything. But I am also not too harsh on myself. I was 13. I am 24 now. And my English has improved. Fun fact, I did not know the difference between make out and break up for a very long time.

OH AND I LEARNED HOW TO DO PROPER PARAGRAPH BREAKS

12) your weaknesses as an author

Movements. Setting. That kind of stuff. When two people are in a scene and talk, I love the dialogue but I am constantly like “oh God, what else is going on in this scene?”

I am writing a scene for Ljubim te with Kurt and Sunil in a restaurant and I am constantly like “DON’T FORGET THEY NEED TO EAT!!!”

14) do you make playlists for your current wips?

Not right now. I don’t make playlists for my fics that often, unless I want to integrate the music into the fic (again, see River fic). Or I make a playlist AFTER I am done, like my Myosotis playlist.

15) why did you start writing?

Fanfiction? When I first read Harry Potter when I was around 11, but I used to write stories before that. Shout out to TEENZZONE and my first ever gay character that I made when I was 10 and then I got scared cause oooooh homosexuality scary!!! ooooh taboooo!!!! and erased it and made him marry a lovely woman named Daisy but then years later I was like “fuck it he’s bi then”

16) are there any characters who haunt you?

Oh, uh? The first ever gay now bi character from TEENZZONE I guess. Fuck, was Danny his name, or was Danny the guy who came before Daisy? Look, I was 10. Ik zat in groep 7, of misschien zelfs 6. It’s been 14 years.

17) if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

It doesn’t have to be perfect. I am not a published author. This is all for fun. Besides, I read a lot of fic that maybe aren’t “that good” in the eyes of whoever decides what’s good, but I still enjoy them and that’s what matters in the end. I write for me and me alone and hopefully people like it too and we will all have a banging time.

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

Not

Jk jk

I often have a little section in my doc with “Information”, like a timeline or people’s names or what is happening when. The one for Ljubim te has the names of my OCs and the street names of where Kurt and Blaine live. I am thinking of also making a timeline, because there are some time jumps between chapters, although I also try to point out what month it is in the chapter itself.

20) do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?

Depends on how inspired I am. I write when I have an idea. Sometimes things snowball from there, sometimes it’s to only add one line.

21) what do you think when you read over your older work?

Define older. As I said, everything before 2015 I pretend I do not see, but after that I actually reread a lot of my stuff. Hence the “I write for me and me alone” mentality. I reread Mendacious this week. And I haven’t read the Anyway series in years and I kind of want to.

22) are there any subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?

There are too many to list, but from the top of my head: non-con/dub-con, detailed slavery or kidnapping or something like that, graphic violence, MPREG, fic with one being a minor other an adult.

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

GIRL MY MAIN STARTING POINT FOR KLAINE FIC THESE DAYS IS “WHAT PART OF MY LIFE CAN I LIFT FROM??”

Mendacious: a conversation I had with one of my friends about internalised homophobia

River fic: lol (my broken friendship) (it’s almost Real Blaine’s birthday) (ah, then it will have been 4 years since I last saw him)

Ebb & Flow: my love for Splatoon 2

Bakery fic: me being obsessed with a documentary about rich people in Dubai

Ljubim te: I miss Ljubljana

So yeah, sometimes it influences the plot (Mendacious and River fic) and sometimes it is more a starting point for me to build upon, but it’s my liiiiiiiife it’s not or neverrrrrr-

Also, okay, I am writing this Snowbaz fic called Just Some Guy from an outsider POV and that is coming from me very much believing that Baz is not that hot. Simon is just in love with him. Sorry Baz fans.

24) have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

Expert? I wouldn’t say that, but I do learn about obscure things like Broadway orchestra subbing. And of course I had that entire chapter about neurobiology in Myosotis sylvatica. But I can’t say I am an expert on things.

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

You can get some All the pretty things lore as a treat.

“As if in every lifetime you and I have lived, we’ve chosen to come back and find each other and fall in love all over again, over and over for all of eternity. And I just feel so lucky that I found you so soon in this lifetime because all I want to do, all I’ve ever wanted to do is spend my life loving you.”

This is how All the pretty things ends. Obviously it is not my writing. This is a direct quote from Glee. I may hate the proposal but they went hard with the speech. But I knew I needed to end the fic with this quote, since it actually inspired the entire premise of the fic. They hop through all these dimensions and in every one of them they find each other to go on to the next. And they grow stronger in the process. I do not know if this fic would be this fic without this quote.

For my own writing, I am really happy with the “emotional climax” of Paradiso 1 and Time After Time, but shhhhh spoilers, you gotta read that for yourself. But a shareable part that I am admittedly obessed with is from The Naked Truth:

We’re acting like a bunch of hormonal teenagers, but I don’t care. We’re high on energy and love. The moment we get to my flat and I close the door behind us, I press him against it and he laughs.

Again, there’s so much laughter.

Is this what love is like? Endless exuberant laughter? I revel in the sound of his joy.

I wrote this because I used “he laughs” or “I laugh” or “we laugh” A LOT in this fic up to the point that it was making me wonder if it’s bad writing, so I just put it in the story. Hooray.

ALY I FUCKING DID IT.

#ask #blurglesmurfklaine

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kingsuckjin · 3 years

Text

Season of the Witch- TEASER

☾ Pairing: love triangle Taehyung x jimin x reader

☾ Genre: yandere, smut, horror, thriller

☾ Rating: 18+

☾ Warnings: STALKER SHIT, Tae is insane and has really dark and obsessive thoughts about Jimin, there’s some sexy stuff in here too, hints towards make oral sex and just sex, violent themes I guess and hits of murder.

☾ Summary: all Taehyung ever wanted was Jimin, and he had always done whatever it took to stop whatever or whoever got in his way, you were going to be no different. Surely Jimin didn’t love you as much as Taehyung loved him… right?

"So," Jimin sucked in a deep breath from across the table of the diner and nervously adjusted in his seat before looking across the table at his best friend. He wondered why he was so nervous, why he was dragging this out, why he thought Taehyung wouldn't understand.

"So, you brought me here to talk about something?" Taehyung cleared his voice, doing his best to try to hide his own nervousness and butterflies mixing in his stomach as he played with a little pink packet of sugar on the table.

"Since you're my best friend and I want you to know what's going on in my life..." Jimin's eyes flickered to his melting vanilla milkshake he no longer cared about. He felt like he needed to look at anything but Taehyung, just in case he had the same reaction as last time, although that was years ago when… Jimin refused to let his mind go back to it.

Taehyung bit at his lip and put down the sugar packet he had been playing with upon hearing Jimin's words. He looked down at the little chipped places in the diner table, chipped at by time itself. He knew now what was coming, and it wasn’t what he had wanted to hear… it wasn't going to be anything close to "I love you". He braced himself for the impact, heart ready to shatter into his ribcage and start sobbing in front of Jimin.

"I've- I've met this girl…" Jimin floundered at first, but the rest just slipped out of his mouth naturally as if he had been born to say these words "she's the one, Tae."

Jimin's sentence had come out in slow motion for Taehyung, as if the world wanted to drag this out just to hurt him more. Although Taehyung knew it had been coming seeing as Jimin had been quite distant recently, just like before, it still left Taehyung swallowing down the pain. A sad whimper too high and soft to be his own partially escaped his throat before Taehyung caught it, cut it off, and drowned it out by clearing his throat. He could feel how wide his eyes were, he felt his pulse quicken and blood heat to an uncomfortable level under his skin. He wanted to crawl out of his own outter flesh and slink away unnoticed by the man sitting across from him. He didn't know what to do, but he had to say something, so said the only thing he could think to say.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure." Jimin confirmed with a nod "you- you aren't going to say what you said last time?" Jimin furrowed his brows with worry.

Taehyung had been through so much with Jimin last time he had uttered these words to him. Jimin should've known better than to go and do this again, Taehyung shouldn't have to warn him again, Jimin should be scared, he should be too scarred to do this to Taehyung again. But would Taehyung say all of this to his friend? No. Warning him of the future heartbreak didn't work last time, it only made Jimin push Tae away and he wasn't about to make that mistake again… he didn't have to, this time around he was prepared, it would be easier now.

"Of course not." Taehyung sat up straighter in the diner booth and watched Jimin's surprised reaction. "It was wrong of me to say all of that last time, especially after what happened."

Jimin's face fell into a pout for a moment as he remembered but pushed it out of his mind. It still hurt him, but now at least he had you.

"You deserve to be happy and you deserve someone." Taehyung forced the best smile he could as he wished that someone was him. He had always wished that someone was him, ever since the both of them had been in high school. Taehyung said a silent prayer every night that one day Jimin would just come to his senses. Taehyung's mind drifted away to the time where he thought Jimin was almost his, the night it was so close he could taste it, he did taste it, he could still taste Jimin's sticky smooth peach schnapps flavored lips and tongue on his.

"-she's such a good dancer too. I can't wait for you to meet her." Taehyung had only caught the tail end of Jimin's rambling. Jimin's smile and enthusiasm when talking about someone that wasn’t him made that warmth in his veins turn into a fire in his stomach, Taehyung was angry. The muscles in hands clenched to try to hold himself together. His hands had felt so tight that they ripped the packet of sugar he had open that he hadn’t realized he had picked back up off the table.

Taehyung looked down at the little pile of sparkling sugar on the table that Jimin ignored as he went for a drink of his milkshake. He watched as his friend's lips wrap around the straw and thought about how perfect they would look and feel if they were wrapped around his-

Taehyung let his eyes fall back to the sugar on the table but that was no help either. He now thought about Jimin's lips coated in the tiny crystals, kissing him, tasting sweeter than the night they almost- Taehyung was sure he'd have a breakdown right here in this diner if he didn’t stop thinking about that night.

"How's the art stuff coming along?" Jimin decided to ask, he hadn't heard Taehyung talk about painting in a while now. He knew it had been Tae's favorite hobby since they were teenagaers, and he was good at it too.

Art stuff. Taehyung knew he didn't care about it, he didn’t even pretend to. Jimin didn't come to the first and last art show his paintings had been featured in. It was a disappointing blow to Taehyung, so disappointing that he gave it up.

"Yeah, I've been exploring other hobbies lately and haven't had time for it. Work and stuff too has been keeping me busy." It wasn't a lie, it was the truth, however Tae wasn't about to start naming his new "hobbies" Thankfully he didn't have too, Jimin's phone went off.

"Oh! Oh man, It doesn't feel like we were here that long does it? I've got to be at the dance studio in fifteen minutes." Jimin couldn’t help but smile as he said it, anytime he mentioned or thought of the dance studio at all now he couldn’t help but smile.

Jimin quickly held his hand up to flag down a waitress but Taehyung stopped him.

"I've got it, you're in a rush." Taehyung urged.

"Are you sure?" Jimin questioned "I'm the only one who ordered anyt-"

"It was just a milkshake. Just head out." Taehyung urged once again, forcing a boxy smile.

Jimin thanked his best friend with a cheerful crescent moon eyed smile that Taehyung would die to see everyday.

Once Jimin had left Taehyung grabbed a napkin from the napkin holder and in the blink of an eye, had stolen the straw from Jimin's half finished milkshake. Under the table, he wiped the excess milkshake from the straw, careful not to touch the end Jimin had put his lips on, and tucked it into his small bag he had brought along with him before flagging down a waitress and paying the bill.

Once Taehyung had gotten out to his car, what Jimin had told him began to catch up with him and really sink in past his bones and into his soul.

Jimin now had a girlfriend.

"Fuck." Taehyung muttered to himself and let his head fall onto the steering wheel. Was this it? Was it all too late? Taehyung should’ve been faster about making Jimin love him.

"FUCK FUCK FUCK!" He let out as he slammed his head against the wheel a couple of times, anger and disappointment radiated through his body.

This wasn't supposed to happen, it wasn't supposed to be like this ever again. Taehyung thought he had taught Jimin a lesson, that lesson being he shouldn't love anyone but him.

Taehyung was protecting Jimin. He was protecting him from his own self, not just from the heartbreak. He knew Jimin's heart was filled with warmth and love that he wanted to share, but why couldn't he just share it with Taehyung? Taehyung, the best friend who was always there for him. Taehyung, the man who strived to be everything Jimin wanted. Taehyung, who would, has and will kill for the man he loves.

Taehyung didn't know what you looked like yet, but he imagined the satisfaction of taking you down just like the girl before you.

He felt a smile grow and spread across his face.

He knew shouldn't be worried, it would be easier this time now that he's getting the hang of this black magic thing. It could be as easy as stomping an ant.

A laugh sounded throughout the quiet car and only grew louder and heavier the more he thought about your death.

Taehyung knew that in the end all you were would be another lesson, another reason for Jimin to never get close to anyone ever again, only him. It would always only be Taehyung, and he figured Jimin would have to learn that eventually.

#park jimin #jimin smut #park jimin smut #kim taehyung #taehyung smut #kim taehyung smut #jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x taehyung #vmin #yandere jimin #yandere taehyung #bts smut

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yourmidnightlover · 3 years

Text

rock

Summary - spencer wants to figure out what's wrong with you, only to be reminded what day it is and he remembers why you've been so distant.

TW: talk abt: rape, recovery, therapy, case stuff; mention of: drug addiction, rape, miscarriage, being shot, death lol

WC - 4,283

!DISCLAIMER! - i am in no way trying to romanticize recovery from a traumatic event or being upset/depressed/anxious. this is kinda my way of getting through my own issues, so please don't think that's what i'm trying to do in any way. i also don’t know how i feel abt this ending since i wrote it so long ago but oh well!

i just realized there are a few spoilers so i'll put *asterisks* around them. those parts are just explaining how the reader's always there for the team.

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you had always been the rock in spencer's life.

mentally, at least.

when he had nobody there for him when he was going through his addiction with dilaudid, there you were. you helped him through it when everybody else on the team acted as if they never noticed.

you were the one that encouraged him to get help, and pushed him to follow through. you made sure he ate and talked to someone when he had his urges again, even if it wasn't you.

you let him come over and cry about what had happened, and how unfair his life was. you consoled him and would tell him how nothing was his fault. how he didn't deserve anything bad in his life.

*and when emily 'died', he went to your house every day. you held him as he felt himself falling apart from losing her. you didn't even worry about yourself needing to be consoled, because spencer needed you to be there for him.

*when she came back you were the one to convince him to forgive her. you talked sense into him. you reminded him how much he pleaded to have her back, and then he did. so he managed to forgive her... because of you and your logic.

*and you weren't just there for spencer. while, yes, you made a special effort to be there for him, you were there for everyone on the team.

*when derek was arrested back in chicago and the team found out about his past, you were the one he leaned on for comfort. you and penelope. you let him cry on your shoulder and yell at you about how twisted a man would have to be to do something so cruel to a child.

*when jj was kidnapped and beaten to a miscarriage, you were the first she told. you didn't say anything. you knew there was nothing you could say that would relinquish the pain of losing a child. so you let her cry. you let her hug you for what felt like hours. you let her grief her unborn baby for as long as she needed.

*when penelope was shot, nobody cared to check up on her after the fact except you. you went to her apartment for weeks just to make sure she was okay. eventually, she was able to let loose all of her frustrations on you, and you took it like a champ. she ranted about how she just wanted to be loved by someone attractive and how unfair and cruel the world is, in spite of how much good she tries to bring into it.

*when hotch lost hailey, you took care of his files. you offered to watch henry and let hotch cry to you about losing her a few times once you broke past his tough exterior. you even cried with him and jack. you made them dinner whenever you could, and helped him look for good nannies to help care for jack.

*when rossi lost carolyn, you went to her grave with him on many occasions. you brought him his favorite scotch, which was very pricey, and his favorite cigars, also very pricey, and tried your best to recreate 'the rossi special' upon his directions. it helped him feel in control of something when he needed it.

*and when emily came back from the dead, you helped walk her through her own grief. she lost herself, and buried her emotions. you helped her dig up her old self, and grow into an even better woman. you even took care of her cat when penelope couldn't manage. you helped emily grieve her own death when she wanted to deny it ever happened, and she was forever grateful for you.*

you had become like the team's built-in therapist when something bad happened, and you loved it that way. you loved being the one the team went to when they needed it. it made you feel as though you had a purpose, which was something you desperately needed.

but when you went through your own trauma almost a year ago, you refused help from anyone. you knew you should've asked someone for help, or at least someone to cry or talk to when you needed to.

the team had been working on a case for longer than expected, 8 days now, and everyone was really frustrated. you had released the profile 7 days ago, and there was still no new information. it was as if the unsub had gone dormant, and you all couldn't bear that thought.

when the team released earlier than normal from the precinct and you all went to the hotel you had been staying at, you decided to get a drink from the bar quickly. you went alone, wanting to review a few of the case files during the process and not needing a distraction.

you ordered a jack and coke, and opened the case files to begin rereading them, seeing if you had missed anything.

victims were kept for 24 hours, filmed, raped, restrained, cut in pieces, and thrown in the trash like garbage. it was absolutely disgusting, and the worst you had seen in a while. the victims were low-risk and most of them had a place of authority.

the unsub had been profiled to be someone who was bossed around by a woman, narcissistic and egotistical, wanted to feel more power and authority.

the problem is, that profile was most people living in the area. even penelope couldn't dwindle down the suspects.

and alas, you had missed nothing. nothing new appeared or caught your eye. you gulped down the rest of your drink and paid for it before packing up your things to head upstairs. you tossed the file back into your bag and began the trek to the elevator.

you were interrupted by something hitting the top of your head, rendering you unconscious.

the team had woken up, and after waiting around for half an hour, spencer realized something was wrong. he had morgan bust into your room, only to find the bed unslept in. you were missing. and the worst part... you fit the unsubs type.

spencer felt his heart drop at the realization he had taken you. and it seemed as though there was no trail as to where you had gone. penelope checked the cameras, only to find that they were hacked right after you left the bar, and then they resumed after you were taken.

at least they had a time frame.

later that day, after everyone hasting to figure something, anything out, spencer had gotten an email. he opened it and expected it to be relentless spam, only to realize it was a live feed video. a video of you. he instantly called penelope in hopes that she could trace it.

she said she could, but it would take some time because the amount of routers it had been going through.

while they were waiting, you noticed you were alone. you knew who the unsub was too, thanks to his baffling stupidity and narcissism that lead him to believe he wouldn't get caught.

"officer johnson! it's officer johnson!" you looked around the camera for a second, noticing something moving. "he-he here," you cried out. "i love you," you said to the camera to nobody in particular, but someone in mind.

you were terrified. spencer could see it in your eyes. he could see the tears you tried not to shed. you didn't want to please him, but you couldn't help but feel the absolute horror and fear coursing through your body at a relentless pace.

"hi there, missus fbi," he teased, finally walking into the frame with a ski mask over his face, clearly not aware that we knew his identity.

spencer told garcia who he was, and she began her digging. officer johnson's great grandparents had owned a farm that was since then refurbished. it was an hour away.

officer johnson had known that you two had chemistry. that's why he sent the email to spencer. he saw the longing glares, the 'innocent' touches, the smiles you would give each other, the longing looks you shared. he wanted to torment him.

so when he began undressing you and you turned your face away from the camera in hopes of sparing some of your own dignity, spencer felt his heart breaking for you. it broke even more when he heard the yelps, and screams, and please, and "no!'s" you elicited during the act.

they caught him before he cut you, but not before he finished the first part of his plan. your skirt was ripped, and your shirt was practically in two pieces. spencer had given you his jacket to cover yourself as much as you could.

you stayed silent the ride back. you didn't even let spencer hold you like you normally would after a tough case. you were ashamed. embarrassed. you felt worthless. you felt pathetic. you felt stupid. you felt helpless. you felt like you were drowning. you felt like you were without a life raft.

you knew you could talk to the team about it, but you felt so disgusted by the thought of what happened to you that you only talked about it in your therapy sessions.

hotch had given you two months off. he wanted you to grieve, and go to therapy, and try to cope with everything that had happened.

and you did try to do that. you tried your hardest to get over it and move past it, but nothing helped. not the journaling. not the talking. not the crying. nothing was working.

spencer gave you a little space at first, but he then decided to try to help you as you had helped him. he went over to your house almost every day, and sat outside your door after you wouldn't let him in.

you knew he was there... you sat on the other side.

"i-i know that you probably don't want to see anyone right now. and i'm uh, i'm sure you feel alone right now, or like you can't talk to anyone," spencer sniffled. "but pl-please just uhm, just know that i'm here when you want to talk about it. i'm here to listen to you when you need me to. i-i don't want you to be alone during this time, y/n. please, just let me in," he begged.

that was normally what he would say almost every night he went to your house. he would sit outside for hours after he would ask you to let him in without fail. until one day you let him in.

spencer felt so much relief when you opened the door, only for it to be smashed when he noticed your eyes looked red and puffy, your cheeks were stained with the tears you had been crying for so long. your cheeks were sunken in, and there were dark circles underneath your eyes that were once full of life and happiness. your eyes no longer had that gorgeous sparkle in them.

spencer vowed he would get them back.

as much as spencer wanted to wrap his arms around you in that moment, to comfort you and tell you that he was there, he wanted you to make the first move. he wanted to tell you how strong you were and how proud of you he was for getting through that. he wanted to tell you how much he loved you.

he wanted you to make the first touch, because he didn't want to further upset you. he didn't want to trigger a repressed memory, or bring back the feelings of what had happened.

but spencer's touch was nothing like the officer's. spencer's touch was soft and gentle. spencer's touch was feather-light and endearing. spencer's touch was love and home. the officer's was brittle, and rough, and repulsive.

"hug me?" you sniffled as your eyes welled with tears again as they had been for the past three weeks.

"of course," spencer slowly wrapped his arms around your shoulders as yours found his torso.

he walked inside with you still in his arms and slowly shut the door. without breaking from the hug, you both walked to the couch and sat down.

you didn't say anything. you just needed spencer to keep hugging you, so he did. he did whatever you wanted, needed, from him. eventually, you fell asleep in his embrace on the couch.

when spencer looked down at you, now sleeping against his chest, he couldn't bring his heart to remove himself from you. so like any whipped man would do, he carefully picked you up bridal styled and carried you to your room. he took his shoes off as well as his sweater vest before cuddling back up next to you.

as if it was a reflex, you cuddled up into his chest when he neared you again and got underneath the covers. spencer slept the best he did in months with you. and you slept without officer johnson in your dreams for the first time since that day.

ever since then, spencer had been making sure you were eating and drinking. he took you to your therapy sessions and stayed over most nights you had asked and he was able to.

they had a few cases during the two months, so every moment he could, spencer was with you. he coaxed you back to your normal-ish self. he watched as that glimmer in your eye began to slowly grow brighter everyday. he watched as your smile came back, and your tears didn't come so frequently.

the first time he had heard you laugh again, spencer had thought he was dreaming. he wished he had recorded that moment. he was more grateful than he's ever been in his life that he had an eidetic memory, because that sound would forever be engraved in his brain.

when you returned to work, you clung to spencer. he had become your tether to reality, and hope. he had become your rock during the recovery.

over the months, everyone slowly began to forget what had even happened. things went on as usual, and the team forgot the traumatic experience you had gone through. even spencer might've let the experience get lost in his brain.

so when it became 11 months and 3 weeks since the abduction, you began to distance yourself once again.

you politely declined going out with the team a couple days before the anniversary, something you never did. you insisted that you were just especially worn out from the case you had just been on.

spencer had to finish files given to him by derek anyway, so he didn't get to witness the encounter.

once the day of the anniversary came upon you, you found yourself feeling sick to your stomach. you couldn't help the tears that would fall from your face every so often. you knew why you felt this way, but you wanted to push past it.

you had gone into the office wearing a pantsuit and blazer, wanting to avoid the normal office skirt you happened to be wearing the day it happened. you stayed at your desk and quietly did your case files. you didn't even greet spencer as you would every day. you gave him a kind smile, but you would normally give him a hug, or at the very least an eager wave upon his arrival.

spencer just assumed it was one of those days where you just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. it wasn't spencer's fault he thought this. he didn't even look at his calendar to check what day it was. he just knew they had paperwork.

but he did have this day marked in his calendar. he had it marked so he would remember to be extra kind to you, and do your files for you, and come to your place with your favorite wine and takeout. he wanted to help you through the one year anniversary, but he forgot to check his stupid calendar.

you thought he didn't care. you thought the man who you loved, and the man who helped you through everything that had happened had had enough of your complaining and grievances. so, you didn't tell him about it. you didn't bother him with the terrible thoughts clouding your mind because you thought it'd burden him.

so when you finished all of your case files early, you asked hotch if you could leave early, at 2:00, because you had things to tend to. he allowed you to do so, but this rose a flag for spencer.

he saw you exit without saying goodbye to him, something you hadn't done the entirety of knowing him. you had always told everyone to have a nice night and to be safe before leaving, but not today.

finally, he looked at his phone for the first time all day, only to feel like the worst person in the world to realize what day it was. spencer felt absolutely horrible at this revelation and ran into hotch's office as quick as he could after packing his things.

"hotch!" he exclaimed upon opening his office door.

"go. she was practically in tears," hotch informed him. "and reid," spencer stopped in his tracks to turn and look at the stern man, "please make sure she's okay." spencer gave him a soft grin and a nod before turning around and bolting out of the office.

you had gotten home and immediately burst into tears. you shut the door with your back, and slid down it. you had never understood why people had done that in movies until now. you just couldn't wait to break any longer, so you settled for your front door.

you held back no wail, or scream as you cried in front of your door, your knees pulled up to your chest as you held them tightly.

you wondered why you had to go through that. you wanted to know what kind of karma there was for someone who had always tried to do the right thing to be hurt... and for nobody to even care. nobody wanted to console you, or to make sure you were alright.

you had checked up on everyone on every anniversary of their struggles. whether it be a death, abduction, anything, you had been there for every single anniversary or reminder. and nobody was there for you.

nobody was there for you to hug, or to lean on, or to cry to, or to scream at, or to rant to. nobody was there. nobody loved you enough to care about that.

but then you had to remind yourself that they all had lives.

but the person who is your life didn't even care.

spencer didn't care.

and that's why you truly lost it.

he acted like it was just another day. he acted like it wasn't the anniversary of the day you thought you were going to die. the day you wanted to die. the day you felt your most low, and humiliated. the day you lost all hope. and he didn't remember.

if the man with an eidetic memory didn't remember, it must be extremely insignificant. so therefore, you must be extremely insignificant.

spencer raced to your house. he wanted to be there for you today, and he failed. he felt like a failure as a friend. he hated himself for not being there for you when he knew you would need him. he knew how you clung to him in your time of need. you thought he was worthy enough to hold onto when you needed someone, and spencer felt elated at that.

but now he wasn't there for you. and you needed him.

he had quickly stopped by the store and your favorite takeout place to get the things you'd want. he got your wine, chocolate, food, flowers, and a teddy bear that had a sweater vest on him - you've always loved his sweater vests.

when he got to the steps of your house, he felt his heart drop. as he walked closer he heard the wails of your crying right by the door. he could sense the heartache from the edge of your porch, and felt himself feel even worse, which he didn't think was possible.

he instantly ran to the door and knocked profusely. you sniffled one last time, feeling embarrassed that someone had heard you crying your heart out. you had figured one of your neighbors heard you and wanted to tell you to keep it down, so you wiped your tears and the stray mascara from underneath your eyes and opened the door, keeping your eyes lowered in embarrassment.

"y/n," spencer announced sadly, a tear falling down his face. you looked up in confusion from hearing his voice. you noticed his tear and reached up to wipe it away on instinct.

"why're you crying? are you okay?" you asked, forgetting all of your own problems at the sight of spencer crying. spencer let out a small chuckle at your concern.

"i'm alright, aside from the fact that i'm a terrible friend," he admitted as his smile quickly faded upon seeing your stained cheeks. "i brought your favorites," he offered, holding the bag of goodies in one hand and the takeout in another.

"y-you... why?" you asked, wanting to make sure you weren't misreading the situation for him trying to comfort you.

"why?" he asked in disbelief. "because it's the anniversary. i can't tell you how sorry i am, y/n. i swear i marked it on my calendar and planned for us to take off so i could take care of you. i-i just woke up late and never bothered to even check my phone. i kn-know it's no excuse... but i am so, so, so sorry," he rambled out, already tearing up.

you grabbed his arm gently and pulled him inside before you started crying in front of your neighbors. you took the bags from his hands and placed them on your coffee table.

"i thought you just didn't care," you shrugged as you took a seat on the couch, prompting him to sit beside you.

"y/n..." he sighed as he realized how terrible he screwed up. "i will always care about this. i will always care about you. don't ever think differently. i'm just incredibly... dumb sometimes. i can't believe i made you think that," he trailed on. "i will never not care about you, y/n. i swear it. i will always, always care about you. i will always love you," he froze as he realized what he just revealed. your eyes widened, and squinted, and roamed his face, trying to figure out if he meant the words he had just sped out. "i truly do, y/n. i i’m in love with you and i'm so sorry i made it seem otherwise."

it took you a second to absorb everything that he had said.

"you too," you solemnly admitted. "i’m in love with you too. and i could forgive you... for almost forgetting," you gave him a small smile.

"i'm glad you could forgive me. i don't know what i'd do if you didn't," he relished. "you actually love me?" you nodded with a small smile.

"i have for a while," you turned your head to the bags on the table.

"oh! right!" he said, reaching for the gifts. "i got your favorite takeout, your favorite wine, your favorite chocolates, flowers, and..." he trailed on as he revealed each item. "i saw this teddy, and i couldn't resist," he smiled.

you took the bear, taking in its appearance. it had a light blue, navy, and white diamond pattern sweater vest and brown shoes on. it looked like spencer, just teddy bear form. you smiled widely at the sentiment.

"it's you," you grinned as you took it in your arms, hugging it tightly as you saw spencer nodded with a smile mirroring that of your own. "i love it," you chuckled.

"i would understand, the fur is really soft," he relished in the thought.

"i don't think he'd be as good of a cuddler as the real thing, though," you grimaced. "but he'll do for when i don't have you here i guess," you shrugged with a smile.

"i plan on being here as long as you'll let me," he said softly.

"always," you grinned, setting down the teddy bear and trading him for the real spencer reid.

"always," he repeated, taking you in his arms and squeezing you tightly as if you'd float away at any moment. "now let's dig into this food while you talk about your feelings, if you want that is," he said after releasing you from the hug.

"i think i want to," you nodded. "and spence?" he turned from getting the food out of the bag to look at you for a second. "thank you for being my rock through all of this."

"i'll always be your rock, y/n."

@averyhotchner @greenprisca @muffin-cup

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst

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eunoiaflow3r · 3 years

Text

hard 2 face reality // spencer reid x fem!reader

spencer reid x reader

aaron hotchner x reader

part one - part three

a/n: a lot of people asked for part 2 to “not ur friend.” omg i didn’t expect it to blow up like it did. sorry this isnt the fluff conclusion you guys wanted...but i’m willing to make this a series maybe? idk it’s up to you guys. thank you for your feedback and support. (see notes at end)

also i tagged all the people who commented on part one.

warning(s): language. angst. not proofread. will be mistakes.

word count: 2.9k wow.

request(ed): yes. very requested. thank you @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks for this idea.

summary: after hearing something she shouldn’t have, she has to deal with explanations and tough decisions.

hard 2 face reality by poo bear ft. justin beiber and jay electronics.

—————————————&——————————��—

sometimes it’s hard to face reality...even though you might get mad at me.

It’s ironic sometimes.

The twists and turns of life and the paths it puts you down. Sometimes you believed in fate but right now it only felt like a pain in the ass. Whoever was controlling your strings you hoped they would just give you a break, but no. There was always something more.

Last night, you had a dream. There was a memory within the dream. You and Spencer were cuddling on the couch watching a movie and his fingers were combing through your hair. From where you were, it was more like you were witnessing it instead of actually living it. You were just watching yourself fall harder for the man behind you. You were content. Happy even. You forgot all about your issues and problems and conflicts. You forgot about what Spencer said and the things he had done. You just forgot.

You watched as he took his fingers out of your hair and pushed you away. The you that you were watching was confused and so were you. Why would he do that? What was wrong with him? This wasn’t the memory.

Dream Spencer got up, put his shoes on, grabbed his bag, and was halfway out the door. Before he left completely he said, “We’re just friends. You’re not enough for me. You never will be.”

Dream you just sat there and stared blankly.

Your eyes opened and you stared up at your ceiling in sorrow. The tears just kept coming and you tried to keep yourself quiet but it was so hard, and you were so tired. You hated to admit it but you were in love with him. You were in love with a man who didn’t feel the same way. A man who did nothing but play you and pretend you were nothing. A man who lied.

How did this happen?

How did you end up in a position where you were in a cold bed crying about a man who was unphased? Someone who didn’t find anything wrong with their actions? How could you love someone who would never find the way to love you back and treat you right no matter how hard you wished? No matter how hard you hoped?

How could you do this to yourself?

And to think - in a few hours you’d have to wake up and see him again. After everything you realized and have come to terms with you’d have to see the man who was responsible for the ache in your heart.

————————————&———————————

When Spencer woke up the first thing he thought about was work. How he didn’t really want to go but he knows he has to. He thought about how heart wrenching the case he’s been on for the last week has been. He thought about how today he might actually be able to solve it...and then he thought about you.

He’d be seeing you.

Hotch invited you to help with the case. He figured your skill set would be exactly what they needed to solve it.

And yeah, you there definitely was for the better of the case but was it for the better of him?

He had no idea what to do. You were mad at him. You weren’t answering his phone calls or his texts and he figured out that you heard the conversation and he gets that maybe calling you a grandmother was wrong, but really what did he do?

He knew he missed you. He missed being able to rant to you, and you consoling him. He missed the movie days you guys had...but he could watch them on his own...right? He could figure out his own problems...he didn’t need anyone to help him. Especially not you. Not someone getting upset about the smallest of things.

That was so rude of you. Why would you ignore him? Why wouldn’t you reply to his texts are calls?

He thought that that was pretty selfish of you.

And yeah sure, maybe calling you clingy was a lie but was that really something to ignore him over? To throw it all away for?

Should've been adjusted to my life, had the opportunity to stay away for the last time...now you’re standin’ right in front of me. It hurts me to know that I lied. Tryna protect your feelings... you read in between the lines Hope your heart has started healing

You arrived.

He saw you, bag over your shoulder, going straight towards Hotch’s office and ignoring him.

Not even a hello? Not a good morning? You hadn’t even looked at Emily or Morgan either. What had they done? What had he done?

From what he could tell you had been crying, but you covered it well. If it was anyone but him they wouldn’t have been able to tell but he could. Did you miss him too? Were you hurting?

———————————-&————————————

“Is something going on between you and Reid?”

Hotch was looking at you expecting an answer but you didn’t know what to tell him. According to Reid nothing had ever been going on.

“No. I’m really just trying to focus here.”

Hotch nodded. “Good.”

Truth is, it was very hard to ignore Spencer. He seemed so oblivious that it made you feel sorry for him. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t feel sorry for him. He wasn’t the one crying his eyes out at night and cussing out rom coms when they came on the television.

And you could tell he didn’t feel the same. He didn’t look how you felt. He looked conflicted, but he didn’t look sorry or hurt. His normalcy pained you. Had you really meant that little? Maybe you were over exaggerating things. No. You deserved an explanation - but you weren’t ready to hear it.

A while ago...

“Okay Y/N cover your eyes!”

You giggled. “No, Spencer why?”

“Just do it! I promise you’ll like it.”

You were sat criss crossed on the couch and Spencer was behind you with something in his hands. Before you could look at it he told you to close your eyes and he hid it behind his back. You smiled and closed your eyes waiting for whatever the surprise was.

You felt his fingers move your hair out of the way and you felt a coolness along your neck.

A necklace.

“Okay open.”

You could feel him grinning. You opened your eyes and looked down at your chest. You nearly gasped. On the end of the necklace was a miniature glass sculpture. When you met at the museum you told him that they were your favorite.

He remembered.

You held it in your hand and turned around to kiss him. He was a bit surprised but held your face in his hands and kissed you back.

“L/N!” You were snapped out of your head. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Sorry.”

The necklace. You can’t believe you were still wearing it. It felt like the only thing holding you together which was strange since glass was so fragile. The metal necklace part felt like it was burning you. The happy memory burned you. You took the necklace from under your sweater and ripped it off your neck. You couldn’t wear it anymore. It hurt you, but you couldn’t hold on.

Reality is kinda hard to face, like actual facts is for flat-earthers. Rains a requirement for flowers to grow, and pains a requirement for power to grow. It’s a miracle how one can change, from one what was just hours ago.

When you got home that day you were happy and running on adrenaline. Yeah, you had to see Spencer...but you helped solve a case. You helped save someone. It was tiring, and gruesome just like what Spencer said but the feeling you get after helping someone? Unexplainable.

After changing out of your work clothes and into some jeans and a shirt, you’d thought you’d treat yourself to dinner. Maybe that would help you forget. Forget and move on. Besides, it was a nice little diner and you used to be a regular. You had wanted to bring Spencer but he never wanted to go. He never wanted to go out.

His loss.

When you got there the familiar scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafted through. You had missed this. When everything was so simple and uncomplicated. When you could be you. Not wondering if today was the day Spencer would decide to come over or not. Or to even call. You could finally breathe. You weren’t in your stuffy apartment. You weren’t in a Spence filled work place. You were where you considered home in a city away from it.

“Y/N, hey!” Em the waitress called you over. You would consider her a friend. You two had always talked when you came through.

“Hey!” She went in for a hug and you hugged her back.

“Where have you been?”

You sighed. “Busy.”

She nodded. She understood. From there she asked you where you wanted to sit. You were just going to request the counter since you were alone, but when a little boy came up to you yelling your name, and wrapped his arms around you...you didn’t have the time to answer. It was little Jack.

“Hey buddy!” You hugged him back.

You looked around for Hotch. What a coincidence. He smiled and waved you over. You and Jack walked over to the booth and Hotch stood and hugged you. “I’m so sorry about Jack.”

“Oh no, it’s fine!”

About two years ago Hotch hired you to babysit Jack every once in a while. You needed the money. You were making enough from the paintings you sold but you needed more to finish college and save up. You weren’t going to some big expensive college or anything but still.

A little while later you met Spencer and it just became and inside joke.

“Would you like to eat with us?” Hotch asked.

“I don’t want to intrude Hotch...”

“Aaron.” He corrected while smiling. “Please, join us.”

And you did. You ate dinner with Aaron and Jack and you were having fun. This past month you had been moping around feeling sorry for yourself but you were actually happy. There was still that pain in your chest, and a part of you that longed to call Spencer and talk to him - but you wouldn’t. You couldn’t.

After dinner Em invited you to go clubbing with her on Saturday. At first you were going to turn her down but you thought...why not? You didn’t have to stay up waiting for Spencer to call anymore. You didn’t have to cook or plan to order in in case Spencer decided to stop by. You didn’t have any plans.

“Sure Em, I’ll be there.”

“Great.”

She walked behind the counter and looked from you to Hotch. Like a suggestive look. Like a “ask him too!” look. And you weren’t ready for anything, and wasn’t even sure if you liked Aaron that way, and you still were in a gray area with Spencer...but you thought it’d be rude not to ask.

“Aaron...”

He nodded, urging you to go on.

“Do you want to go with me Saturday? I mean...I don’t really want to be alone..Em has a girlfriend and it might be fun.”

He laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Yes Y/N I’ll go.”

When you got home and ready for bed you had this weight in your stomach. There was a lump in your throat, and your fingers tensed. You thought about Hotch and it made you feel like you were cheating on Spencer. But you weren’t. You and Spencer weren’t together. There was no need to feel guilty.

He didn’t.

———————————-&————————————

That Saturday came soon enough and you weren’t sure if you were ready. Physically yeah, you showered and got ready...but emotionally? Mentally? Was this a date? Had you asked Aaron out? Were you ready for that? Had you moved on from Spencer? No, of course not. But Aaron wasn’t a distraction either. You could never do that to him no matter how bad you felt. Never.

Your doorbell rang and when you opened it you were surprised to see Hotch...not in a suit. It fit him and you could admit it...he looked...really good.

“You clean up nice.” You said laughing a bit to yourself.

He looked you up and down. “So do you.”

He looked a bit taken aback and you could see he was a bit flushed and that made you a bit happy. You liked giving people that kind of reaction. It gave you just a bit of confidence you needed. Especially tonight, where you’d try not to think about Spencer.

When you got there you were glad it wasn’t too busy. The music wasn’t that loud either and you were glad because then you got to dance without immediately getting a headache. Your first dance was with Hotch but then he saw one of his friends from college (he’s a lawyer now) and then started talking to him. You didn’t mind. You actually kind of liked being alone. It gave you you time to think. But not about Spencer.

No. Not tonight you wouldn’t.

You wasted too many tears on him to be thinking of him while you were supposed to be having fun. He didn’t deserve your thoughts. He didn’t deserve your tears. He didn’t deserve movie nights, or cuddles, or sex, or kisses, or waiting, he didn’t deserve -

Spencer.

Spencer Reid.

You thought you were dreaming, but you weren’t. He was just a little bit away from you with JJ on his arm. “Just coworkers.” You wanted to say it didn’t hurt you, you did, but your heart broke. In a million little pieces. Had he not want to get serious with you because he was in love with her. It makes sense, everything about that makes sense but it didn’t hurt any less. It didn’t make the tears in your eyes stop, it didn’t make the ache in your chest dim but at least it made sense.

Know it hurts to see the truth in your face, circumstances bring you down to your knees. Go on and cry an ocean, but don’t drown in it. Enough to put your heart at ease. Oh don’t lose your self esteem. I apologize for being a man. It’s way harder than what it seems.

You grabbed your bag from Hotch and told him you needed to go outside for a minute. He asked you if you wanted him to go with you but you needed to be alone. You wanted to be by yourself to fight these tears. You couldn’t cry in front of him.

He gave you his coat which was much too big but still appreciated.

Once you were outside you took your phone out to check your face. Your nose was red but the few tears hadn’t ruined anything. You were fine. You were going to be okay. Everything was alright.

Until it wasn’t .

“Y/N?”

Fucking Spencer.

You turned around to see Spencer Reid walking towards you with a confused look on his face.

“Hey.” he said. Hey? Hey?? What the hell were you supposed to say to that? Hey?

He cleared his throat. “Things are weird, right?”

“Weird?” you scoffed.

“Y/N, it’s been a month! I don’t understand what I did! You just stopped talking to me even after I tried to apologize! What more can I do?”

He stopped for a second, “Is that Hotch’s jacket?” He stepped forward to take a look at it but you flinched away. “Don’t tell me that’s Hotch’s -“

“You were hiding me Spencer. You said the equivalent to hanging out with me was of visiting a grandmother. You never wanted to hang out unless it was on your terms and you called me clingy and suffocating when I NEVER asked you for more. I NEVER went out of my way to ask you for anything and you treat me like this? Like I’m replaceable? After everything we’ve been through? After all we’ve talked about and experienced? What’s your excuse for that Spencer? What could you possibly have to say that would explain that?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again.

“If I were to have called you and said ‘Yup, everything is fine Spence we can go back to normal.’ It would have gone back to normal! YOUR normal! A normal where I’m hidden like a side chick but you get to be in public with JJ on your arm! Fucking JJ! And yeah, we never put a label on it but YOU made it clear that we weren’t to fuck other people. That was YOUR decision! She was the girl you said I didn’t have to worry about and here we are.”

Spencer was silent. He looked to the floor, and said nothing. His fingers ran through his disheveled hair and his lip was quivering.

“So this is because of JJ?” he asked.

“Fuck you.”

————————————&———————————

He watched as you walked into the club and back out again with Hotch. Before you went in his car though you walked over to Spencer and put the necklace into his hand. Silently you walked over to Hotch and got in the passenger seat.

Spencer didn’t know what to do.

This was your necklace. He gave it to you. It was yours to keep. Yours to wear, cherish, and hold. Why would you give it back? It was supposed to make you happy and help you remember him. Instead it was in his hands unworn but the girl he had hurt. What was he supposed to do?

JJ found him outside but he said nothing to her the whole ride when he took her home. He was thinking about you. He was thinking about what you said. You were right.

When he got home he looked at the box of things you gave him. There were polaroid pictures of the two of you and he started shaking as he cried. What had he done? How could he have been so selfish?

You were right.

Truth was he did like JJ, and he had been hiding you. He had been treating you unfairly. He had been a jerk and he had done every single thing you said he did.

He was all of the names you were calling him in your head.

Every single one.

He held the glass sculpture necklace in his hands and could feel his tears running down his face falling on it.

Even though he fucked up, and had something weird with JJ, he realized...he was in love with you.

Sometimes it's hard to face reality.

—————————————-&————————————-

literally wtf is this. what in the love triangles - anyway. ik you guys wanted fluff so...part 3? idk. should reader have a thing with hotch? should she choose hotch or reid?

feedback always appreciated. it pushed me to write this.

taglist: @hotchsbabygirl @pinkdiamond1016 @thefemalestorywriter @sizzlingclamturtlesludge @samyilf123

comment tag list: @peculiarinsomniac @mgg-theprettiestboy @187-reid @realalpacorn @wooya1224 @minami97 @studywithrosie01 @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks @meowiemari @thedaughterofhotchniss @reniescarlett @lovelyspencerreid @ashwarren32 @fantastic-fans @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @psych0crybaby @drreidsconverse @castbyfox

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shlutnutt · 3 years

Text

𝙍𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 5.

this is my first ever smut and probably any writing in general so dont expect it to be the best loll.. hope you enjoy though :) !!!

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴!! : 𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘵, 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘦𝘹?, 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘤𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨

ight so boom.

Mr. March continued staring at your pretty face, analyzing and tracing every single one of your soft unique features with his gaze, completely mesmerized and in hunger. You weren't in the mood due to some hotel customers ding dong ditching every door they'd lay their eyes on causing lots of complains. The feeling of annoynce started to rise within you causing you to attempt to snap him out of his dreamy fantasy. His room dark and quiet, the chat you were both having, was soon ready to turn into an avalanche.

"What the fuck, James. Stop staring at me." you snapped raising your voice slightly with confidence. His mesmerized stare quickly transformed into a deep frown, feeling absolutely disrespected. His goal was to intimidate you, to make you beg for forgiveness as he got up from his creaky antique sofa heading behind his work desk carefully leaning down opening one of the bottom drawers. Fully invested you follow his every move, eager to find out what's in his creative murder mind this time.

"Listen to me Y/N... Didn't we talk about disrespecting daddy? I thought we did. Didn't we?" James questions in pure elegance and lust, jingling the heavy handcuffs he had in hand. Your breath got caught in your throat, immediately regretting your previous outrageous comment, predicting what were to happen next giving the best to your ability to not make a single comment, facial expression, or nervious body language to prevent giving him any sort of satisfaction. Making James upset was one of your many favorite hobbies, knowing the effect it has on him and will most definitely have on you also, its like going on a never ending roller coaster, only that this roller coaster is full of teasing and is absolutely stunning. Silence filling the room with an unbreakable stare you both hold, you slowly press your legs together feeling your innocence get wetter by the minute. "Get up" demands James, scanning your every move as you get up from your seat and slowly walk towards him nervousness filling every single flesh in your body. "Yes, daddy?" You automatically innocently question, remembering how much he loved that word slip out of your lips.

The two of you now inches away from eachother, a small seductive smirk appearing on his delicate pink lips. Leaning down to your ear James sassed "You think you can go 5 rounds today, my dereast?" Unsure you responded to his rhetorical question "Of course I can why would you thi-" James smashes his lips onto yours, leaving you breathless. Carefully and discretely putting your hands behind your back as he handcuffs you. He chokes you, hard. Making sure he leaves marks for days, you squeeked in shock realizing that your hands had been handcuffed and your under James' harsh chokehold. March breaks the kiss only to pull your chin down slightly opening your mouth spitting on your tongue and going back to kiss you, tasting him in your mouth, your lips feel painfully numb from the harsh kisses you two shared, shifting slightly from his lips you feel a harsh stinging from James' harsh touch against your cheek, you groan in pleasure loving how aggressive he's gotten with you.

"Get on your knees, my pretty little slut" Still handcuffed you drop down to your knees almost immediately, soaking wet and ready for whats to come next.

"Listen to me, beautiful. You are not to make a single sound. Okay? If you do, I'll make sure I bring everyone from this entire hotel into this room and let them watch how I fuck you." You look up at him totally mesmerized by his masculine beauty ignoring his comment for a second, you pause a little just to admire the man who's soul you were about to suck. You open your mouth signaling James that you were ready for his hard member. He begins grinding his hips lightly against your tongue, you grew in desperate need as his clothed member brushed up and down your tongue. You've been doing a great job following James' intructions until a delightful deep groan slipped out of James, making you want to orgasm in that instant. He was aware of the effect that had on you so he proceeded his deep groans and began taking off his buttoned up shirt, revealing his sweaty toned chest and abs. You were driving crazy and attempted to unzip his pants with your teeth in which you failed miserably, "So needy.. hm?" James exhales, his cock still rubbing on your face completing your attempt for you allowing his member to spring up lightly tapping his stomach and back down to your forehead . You didnt think twice before slipping his tip into your mouth, teasing him lightly as a result from him teasing you beforehand.

"Oh fuck, Y/N.. You're doing so good." James praises. You now sucking him fully and uncontrollably, his deep lustfilled moans traveling through the dullness of his room. You groan slightly to his moans completely forgetting about his previous warnings, you feel him pull out of you and harshly pulling you up by your throat. Without a word leaving his lips he harshly throws you onto the bed and uncuffs you, searching for another pair of handcuffs as he aggressively handcuffs you again onto the antique bed frame this time that sat behind his bed. A smirk not leaving your lips as you teasingly exclaim "Come on, daddy. Let them watch how you fuck me." James seem to be distracted with something which you paid no mind to but immediately teleports your way and rips all of your clothes apart throwing every item of your clothing to their own direction, leaving you butt naked. Your wetness now leaking onto James' bed who doesn't stop staring at your innocence for a second.

"You're so wet for me already, gorgeous?" James teases as he swipes two fingers through your folds collecting your juices making you clench in pleasure. You watch him as he sucks your juices off of one of his fingers, leading his other one to your mouth allowing you to taste yourself as well. You sucked his finger dry, as he carefully watched you. "Mmm, I would like some more" You hear James groan as he leans down to your leaking innocence and shaky legs, slowly opening your thighs allowing him to have full access to whats been needing him the most. James licked your cunt once causing you to moan pathetically not caring about his previous demands. The pulling on your handcuffs and James' tongue ultimately exploring your sweet insides, driving you closer and closer to your high giving you a huge feeling of ecstasy sending shock waves through your entire body it was unbelievably astonishing.

"Knock, knock! I gathered everyone... Mr. march. We're ready for the meeting.." You hear a familiar feminine voice say in utter confusion as they hear your helpless moans from the other side of the hotel door. Your eyes opening wide in shock, knowing exactly what the psycho eating you out had just done. You feel him get up, you stare at the ceiling for a few seconds in pure embarrassment knowing what was to come as you see James unzipping his pants once more, sneaking his hands under your sweaty naked body to flip you over all in one swift motion. You were now faced down on the humid bed, your back arched in natural tradition. You look back to James slapping your ass.. hard. Causing you to close your eyes tight feeling the harsh sting as he kissed it afterwards. You later hear shifting sounds from behind, making you look back once again. You encounter James with a sharp classic knife in hand, pure lust in his eyes as you see his chest moving up and down aggressively. James had a knife play kink. He loved to see your body quiver in fear as he traced the blade down your body lightly cutting you at times, he admired licking your blood clean as you cry under his touch. He's James Patrick March, nothing too surprising coming from him.

"Are you ready for our guests, my pretty little thing?" Another rhetorical question drops from his lips. Your body aching in eagerness for James, you hear footsteps and whispers from behind you. You don't dare look in pure embarrassment. Closing your eyes tightly in discomfort you feel a familiar thick touch against your folds, making you softly whimper in need. James smashed himself into you not giving you any time to adjust to his size, rapidly thrusting and groaning against your powerless self, your orgasm soon approaching to the experience you were feeling. The crowd watching, James fucking you nonstop and pressing the blade up and down your back softly while you're handcuffed to the bed frame made the desirable experience surreal, making you cum. Your juices coating James' member as he pulls out to lick you clean and go back in. A few people from the crowd had left in disbelief and shock as a few others stayed to enjoy the show such as Mr. Wu and the pornstars, taking mental notes. James fucked you again and again, making you cum again and again until he was on his last round.

Round number 5.

Your body completely exhausted melting to James' aggressive penetration into your now sensitive warmth, made you beg for him to stop. Causing him to thrust a couple more times, before pulling out and nutting on your back. The warmth of his cum on your back giving you a feeling of relief. "Uncuff m-me.. plea- please.." you suggested barely even being able to speak. "Of course sweetheart, you should've asked before" he smiled at you innocently as if he wasn't going to punish you for if you asked such thing. He uncuffs you, wrists red and nearly bleeding, you collapse onto him and hug him tightly tearing from your exhaustion. James realizes you've begun getting vulnerable under him and asks everyone to leave.

"Bath?" James asked innocently, as if he didnt just made you cum 5 times all in one night.

"Yeah.. bath" you answer. Smile forming on James' soft cheeks, dimples appearing.

"Hey, can we not do that again?" you ask. James looks up from his blade which he had been fidgeting with to your face in confusion. "The everyone watching me thing." you specify. Causing a chuckle to fall from his lips. "You told me to, dear. Remember?" You then laugh, remembering that you in fact did tell him to, pushing him playfully which causes him to look up at you, serious expression on his face. You look at him also, breaking the eye contact quickly realising you've fucked up.

"Round 6?"

"Oh God, no James."

#evan peters #smut #ahs fanfiction #ahs imagine #ahs hotel #ahsfx #american horror story #james patrick march #dirty talk #kinkystuff #kinkyaf #imagine #imagines #fanfic #james march #jpm #jpm x reader #x reader

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samtrapani · 2 years

Note

since we're playing it that way–do all the odd numbers :)

i can't even say you're a menace bc i did the exact same to you >:(

mafia trilogy ask game [prompts from here]

1: what is your favorite game from the whole trilogy?

i answered this here :)

3: which character do you connect with the most?

i also answered this here :)

5: which characters do you dislike and why?

as everyone says, remy duvall. he deserved exactly what he got, maybe more.

7: your favorite ship and why? (OCs can be included.)

from my sick twisted mind, the oc ships i like best are probably my awful throuple of cherry/henry/vito (aka. vito is their boyfriend) and nicky/leo (aka. years of pining and then the realization that leo knew all along)

from the canon-only standpoint, salieri/morello, henry/vito, sam/paulie, henry/eddie, henry/luca, and eddie/falcone (most of these are @meme-streets YOU YES YOU fault, even though like. it's probably my fault i brought them up mostly oops sorry harry <3)

9: the last Mafia game you played/watched, you so happened to get trapped in. how would you react and what would be the first thing you did?

the last one i played was 2! and i would probably freak out because i'm pretty sure as much as i'd like it to not be so, everyone in-game would be casually r*cist to me (including the boys. let's be real. i'm not white and not cis. i'm going to be in for a hard time lmao.) honestly, i'd probably go and bother vito first, because he seems the least likely to be like ah, what the fuck? and i'd steal all his clothes because they'd smell really good.

11: which character do you think is underrated?

joe. i don't know, despite being the secondary protagonist, joe does not get as much love as he should in terms of shipping and as a character. also, eddie, because i just know that judging by all the promotional material, he was supposed to be a part of the core group of vito, joe and henry.

13: Which character(s) do you think you would NOT get along with?

donovan. i don't know why, i just feel like we wouldn't gel, oops.

also, probably luca. you don't put people who act together in the same room, they'd probably rip each other's throats out, and as much as i love him, i'd hate him for it.

15: your favorite head-canon(s).

i answered this here :)

17: favorite quote(s) from the Mafia trilogy.

IT'S ABOUT DAMN TIME YOU CAME OUT OF THE CLOSET

when leo picks vito up on the street corner, the one that sticks out at me is: "i've forgotten more about this business than you'll ever learn."

that + tommy's ending speech (both from the original game and the definitive edition. i prefer the original one, but the newer speech is also pretty good.)

19: which character(s) do you think deserved more cutscenes/missions?

luca! he was a good villain, and i think that they should've expanded a little more on how much of a slimeball (affectionate) he was. also, i just really, really want more luca content. he's my little weasel man.

also sergio morello, for the same reasons! idk. i like them mustached, trans, and the most sadistic people on earth.

21: who is the first character that comes to mind when you think of Mafia?

h,,,henry. i'm sorry like half of my answers are henry. yes i am THAT "oh god not this guy again" person when it comes to it.

23: what’s your favorite Mafia DLC?

sign of the times! it was such a shift in tone from the main game, and it genuinely scared me playing it. also, it showed a softer side of lincoln, and i have many, many feelings about anna, thanks.

25: this one is a bit silly. who is a character you would not mind dating?

i say henry, and the crowd boos and pelts me with tomatoes

okay, the problem with dating henry is that he's too closed off, and i think after betty's death, he'd have even more barriers up, which would eventually drive me insane because i desperately need physical and emotional affection and henry is the last person on earth for it. (but i'd still date him, we'd just have a messy breakup.)

honestly, from a realistic point of view, every last one of them would be horrible to date, except maybe frank colletti.

i'd take my chances with vito, though. he seems like he'd know how to treat me right <3 and vito's a genuinely sweet person beneath it all, even if he's damaged goods, but like. in this game? who isn't :")

27: a cool idea for a DLC.

shut up about henry shut up about henry a henry dlc, i'm so so sorry. i'm still bitter we got whatever the hell jimmy's adventures was rather than an actual look into the miserable life of one mr tomasino :(

also a dlc to bridge the gap between what was vito doing before he went to new bordeaux. i think the promotional materials for mafia 3 cover the base of it (the postcards), but there are a few years before he actually enters the city, and just going to different cities and doing "errands" for leo would be kind of cool.

29: how did you come across the Mafia Trilogy?

i've always had a thing for anything related to american organized crime, specifically the mob (and like, it's my special interest), so when i found out there was a video game about the mafia? i wanted it. and now about almost thirty OCs later, look at me. ruined by this franchise :)

#harry you're a menace >:3c #memestreets #answered #mafia 2 #mafia 3

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spacesuitsforemergency · 4 years

Text

The Rise Of Iron Maiden

Chapter 6: Whatever It Takes

Word Count: 3.1k

Originally Requested by: @amateurwriterbigdreamer

Previous Chapter: The Return Of Iron Maiden

Next Chapter: The Time Heist

A/N: this chapter was so fun to write, hope you enjoy! This is probably my favorite chapter so far

“Come on, I feel like I'm the only one eating.” Dr. Banner pushes a plate forward. “Try some of that. Have some eggs.”

“I am so confused.” Scott stared in awe.

“Yeah...” you blink.

“These are confusing times.” Banner says seriously.

“Right. No, no, that's not what I meant.” Scott shook his head.

“What exactly is going on here?” Tye gestured to Banner...or...Hulk...Dr. Hulk...

“No, I get it. I'm kidding! I know. It's crazy. I'm wearing shirts now.” Bruce says happily. You stare at his current form, somehow part Banner and part Hulk.

“Yeah! Wh...How? Why?” Scott stuttered.

“Five years ago, we got our asses beaten. Except it was worse for me. Because I lost twice. First, Hulk lost, then Banner lost. Then, we all lost.” Bruce explained.

“No one blamed you, Bruce.” Natasha reassured him.

“I did. For years, I've been treating the Hulk like he's some kind of disease, something to get rid of. But then I started looking at him as the cure. Eighteen months in a gamma lab. I put the brains and the brawn together. And now look at me. Best of both worlds...” he motioned to himself.

“What is this Hannah Montana bullshit...?” You whisper to Tye as three children walk up behind Bruce...or Hulk.

“Excuse me, Mr. Hulk?” The girl asks shyly.

“Yes?” Banner turned to face them.

“Can we get a photo?”

“100%, little person. Come on, step up.” He took off his glasses and held his phone out to Scott. “You mind?”

Scott nods and takes the picture, leaning over to give the phone back. “Don't you wanna grab one with me? I'm Ant-Man.” He offered. “They're Hulk fans, they don't know Ant-Man. Nobody does.”

“Wait, no, no, he feels bad. No, he wants you to...he wants to...” he turns to the kids, the boy shakes his head. “You want to take a picture with him, right?”

“Stranger Danger.” The other boy adds.

“He's even saying no he doesn't. I get it. I don't want it either.” Scott tried to shrug it off.

You and Tye cringed in second hand embarrassment as the scene unfolded in front of you, Natasha rolling her eyes and continuing to eat her breakfast.

“Anyways...” Tye muttered when the kids finally walk away.

“About what we were saying...” Steve added.

“Right. The whole time travel do-over? Guys, it's outside my area of expertise.” He shook his head as he turned back to face you guys.

“Well, you pulled this off. I remember a time when that seemed pretty impossible time, too.” Natasha smiled.

•

“Okay, here we go. Time travel test number one. Scott, fire up the uhhh... the van thing.”

You stand with Banner and perfect the controls, Tye, Steve and Nat standing aside to let you two work.

“Breakers are set, emergency generators are on standby.” You alert him.

“Good. 'Cause if we blow the grid, I don't wanna lose Tiny here in the 1950's.” Banner snickered. Everyone looks at him with concern.

“Excuse me?” Scott asked, panicked.

“He’s kidding!” Tye said, only half sure.

“You can’t say things like that.” Natasha laughs nervously.

“Yeah uh...just a bad joke. Scientist humor.” You reassure Scott, and he seems satisfied with your answer.

“You were kidding, right?” Natasha whispered to you two.

“I have no idea. We're talking about time travel here. Either it's all a joke, or none of it is.” You shrug.

“We're good! Get your helmet on, Scott. I'm gonna send you back a week, let you walk around for an hour, then bring you back in 10 seconds. Makes sense?” Bruce sends a thumbs up to Scott.

“Perfectly not confusing.” Scott nodded sarcastically.

“Good luck, Scott. You’ve got this.” Steve called over to him.

“You're right. I do, Captain America.” Scott smiles proudly. Bruce presses a button, and Scott is sucked into the Quantum Realm. “On the count of three. 3...2...1!”

The Ant Man suit comes back, but inside of it is a teenager.

“Uh, guys? This...this doesn't feel right.” What you presumed was teenage Scott Lang, said worriedly.

“What is this?” Steve asked.

“Oh hell no.” Tye shook his head.

“What’s going on?” You ask Bruce as he fiddles with the controls.

“That...who is that?” Natasha asked.

“Hold on.” Bruce said, panicking.

“Is that Scott?” Natasha asked, lookingback and forth between the teenager and the scientists.

“Yes, it’s Scott!” Teenage Scott shouted.

He’s sucked in again, and when he reappears there’s an old man.

“Ow! My back!” Old Man Scott Lang groaned.

“What is this?” Steve repeated.

“Can I get a little space here?” Bruce shooed at them.

“Yeah yeah. Can you bring him back?” Steve persisted.

“I’m working on it!” Bruce nudged you aside, now taking full control of the panel. You step down, standing between Steve and Tye.

“For the love of the lord...” Tye pinched the bridge of his nose. “Obviously we’re working with a couple of geniuses.”

“Hey, this isn’t me.” You raise your hands in surrender, as another form of Scott appears.

“It’s a baby.” Steve blinked.

“It’s Scott!”

“As a baby!”

“He’ll grow.”

“Bring Scott back!”

“When I say kill the power, kill the power.” Bruce motioned for you to go to the generator.

“Oh god. Oh my god.” You mutter nervously, walking to the generator.

“And...kill it!”

You pull the lever, and everything shuts down. You sigh in relief when you finally see the normal Scott Lang.

“Oh thank god.” Natasha took a breath.

“Somebody peed my pants.” Scott blinked. “But I don't know if it was "baby" me or "old" me...Or just "me" me.”

“Time travel!” Bruce cheered. You and Steve don’t say anything, Tye and Natasha give him an identical look of displeasure. “What? I see this as an absolute win!”

•

“Hey there, Iron Maiden.”

You turn to see your dad standing in the doorway of your old room, where you were currently searching for said Iron Maiden suit. You swear you left it in your closet before you left.

“What are you doing here?” You glare at your father.

“Thought you might want this.” Tony hands you a briefcase. You take it and slowly open it, seeing a polished up version of your suit.

“You...?”

“I’ve been doing some thinking and...you’re right.” Your dad admits. “This chance...it’s worth it.”

“So you’re going to help?” You ask hopefully.

“You seem desperate for it. Let me guess: he turned into a baby.”

“Yeah how did you...?”

“That's the EPR Paradox. Instead of pushing Lang through time, you might've wound up pushing time through Lang. It's tricky. Dangerous. Somebody should've cautioned you against it.”

“You did.” You chuckle lightly.

“Oh, I did?” He winked playfully at you. “Thank God I'm here. Regardless, I fixed it. A fully functioning Time-Space GPS. I just want peace. Turns out, resentment is corrosive, and I hate it.”

“Like father like daughter.” You chuckle.

“We got a shot at getting these stones, but I gotta tell you my priorities: Bring back what we lost? I hope, yes. Keep what I got? I have to, at all costs. And... maybe not die trying will be nice.” He negotiates.

“...sounds like a deal.” You agree. He reaches out to shake your hand, you grab it and pull him into a hug. He hugs for a moment before straightening up.

“Oh, and don’t parade that around. Pretend like you had it the whole time, I don’t have one for the whole team. We are getting the whole team, right?” He raised an eyebrow.

“You bet your ass we are.”

•

“Kind of a step down from a from a golden palace for an Avenger highness and whatnot.” Rocket mutters as the truck arrives at New Asgard, which was in a small fishing town in Norway. You hop out, following them along the docks.

“Hey, have a little compassion, pal. First they've lost Asgard, then half the people. They're probably just happy to have a home.” Bruce tells him.

You were on your way to try to convince Thor to rejoin the team, so that you would have a better shot at succeeding. Tye was with Natasha to go get Clint, Rhodey was back preparing with Nebula, Tony, Natasha, Scott, and Steve.

A girl called Valkyrie points you in the direction of Thors residence, and you follow the raccoon and the Hulk into a house.

“What the...Woo! Something died in here.” Rocket grimaced at the smell, and you scrunched your nose up in disgust.

“Hello? Thor?” Bruce calls through the house.

“Are you here about the cable?” Thor calls from somewhere. Your jaw drops when you see him. He’s definitely...put on a few pounds.

“The Cinemax ran out about two weeks ago, and the sports were all kind of fuzzy.” Thor rambled on as he grabbed a beer.

“Thor?” You ask, and he turns to look at you.

“Boys! Y/N!” He cheered happily. “Oh my God! Its so to see you!” He then pulled Rocket into a hug. “Come here, you little rascal!”

“No, I'm good. I'm good. That's not necessary.” Rocket pried himself away from Thor, dodging and standing on the other side of you.

“Hulk, you know my friends, Miek, Korg, right?” He gestured to a rock guy and some alien, playing...ew, Fortnite. Thank god Tye and Jaime weren’t here to witness this (they would probably physically fight them).

“Beer's on the bucket. Feel free to log on to the Wi-Fi. No password, obviously.” Korg then goes back to his game. “Thor, he's back. The kid on the TV that called me a dickhead again.”

“NoobMaster.” Thor growled, as of spewing the name of his greatest enemy and grabbing the headset. “Noobmaster? Yeah, it's Thor again. You know, the God of Thunder? Listen, buddy. If you don't log off this game immediately, I am gonna fly over to your house, come down to that basement you're hiding in, rip off your arms AND SHOVE THEM UP YOUR BUTT!!! Oh, that's right. Yes, go cry to your father, you little weasel!”

“What is going on?” You whisper to the guys.

“We’re witnessing the human embodiment of the word ‘loser’.” Rocket muttered, Bruce lightly nudging him. “What?”

“Buddy, you alright?” Bruce ignores the non raccoon.

“Yes, I'm fine! Why, don't I look all right?” Thor asked.

“You look like melted ice cream.” Rocket crossed his arms.

“So, what’s up?” Thor chuckled.

“We need your help. There might be a chance we could fix everything.” You explain.

“What, like the cable? Cause that's been driving me bananas for weeks.”

“Like Thanos.” Bruce says softly.

Thor’s smile slowly fades, and he grabs Bruce’s shoulder. You watch as Thor goes through about a million emotions as Bruce reasons with him, explaining in proper detail why he should come.

“There’s beer on the ship.” Rocket finally adds, and that perks Thor’s attention.

“...what kind?”

•

“Drifting left. On the side there, Lebowski.” Tony says to Thor as he passes him, going up to Rocket, where Tye’s assisting him with building the glass platform. “Ratchet, how's it going?”

“It's Rocket. Take it easy. You're only a genius on Earth, pal.” Rocket points a wrench at him, before turning to Tye. “Alright kid, where’s that drill?”

Tony continued to strut down the hallway, finding you in a side room with Natasha, Rhodey, Scott, Bruce and Steve.

“Time travel suit? Not bad.” Rhodey admires your work.

“Scott, I made it close to your Ant Man suit so you don’t get confused.” You say slowly, as if he were a child.

“Yeah, Thanks.” Scott scoffed, before shrieking. “Hey, hey, hey! Easy, easy!”

“I’m being very careful!” Bruce insisted.

“No, you’re being very Hulky.” Scott sighs. “These are Pym Particles, alright? And ever since Hank Pym got snapped out of existence, this is it. This is what we have. We're not making any more.”

“Scott, calm down.” Rhodey said.

“You’ve got to chillax, man.” You nod.

“Sorry. We've got enough for one round trip each. That's it. No do-overs. Plus two test runs.” He waves around, and accidentally pressed a button. “One test run.”

You walk with him to the test chamber helping him prepare with Rocket, the others watching from a control panel.

“All right. I’m not ready for this.” Scott said shakily from his nerves.

“I’m game. I’ll do it.” Clint piped up. You and Rocket groan, since you just finished setting everything up for Scott.

You help Clint with the suit, telling him the controls while Rocket adjusts everything. Then, you step back to the control panel with the others.

“Clint, now you're gonna feel a little discombobulated from the chronoshift. Don't worry about it.” Bruce instructed.

“Wai-Wait a second, let me ask you something. If we can do this, you know, go back in time, why don't we just find baby Thanos, you know, and...” Rhodey made a hand gesture, suggesting that you strangle baby Thanos with a rope.

“Ooh, I like that plan.” Tye grinned, Rhodey also smiling and patting him on the shoulder proudly.

“First of all, that’s horrible...” Bruce said, disgusted at their joy from the idea of killing a child. “...And secondly, time doesn't work that way. Changing the past doesn't change the future.”

“Look, we go back, we get the stones before Thanos gets them... Thanos doesn't have the stones. Problem solved.” Scott shrugged.

“Exactly!” Tye nodded.

“Bingo.” Clint piped up.

“That’s not how it works.” Nebula rolled her eyes in annoyance.

“Well, that’s what I heard.” Clint shrugged.

“What? By who? Who told you that?” Bruce asked.

“Terminator, TimeCop, Time After Time-“ Rhodey began to list.

“Star Trek, Donnie Darko, Men in Black III.” You added.

“Quantum Leap and Meet the Robinsons.” Scott said.

“A Wrinkle in Time, Somewhere in Time-“ Rhodey nodded.

“Hot Tub Time Machine. Butterfly Effect. Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. Basically, any movie that deals with time travel.” Tye said, as if everyone was stupid for not knowing.

“Die Hard? No that’s not one...” Scott mumbled.

“This is known.” You say.

“I don't know why everyone believes that, but that isn't true. Think about it: If you travel to the past, that past becomes your future. And your former present becomes the past. Which can't now be changed by your new future...” Bruce explained to everyone.

“Exactly.” Nebula nodded.

“So...Back To The Future's a bunch of bullshit?” Scott asked, horrified.

“So my childhoods been ruined.” Tye mumbled, to which you and Rhodey nodded in agreement.

“Alright, Clint. We're going in 3... 2... 1!” Bruce presses the button. You all watch in anticipation, then Bruce hits the button again.

Clint appears again, breathing heavily. Natasha rushes over to him, the rest of you circling him.

“Hey, hey. Look at me. You okay?” Natasha asked.

“Yeah, it worked. It worked.” Clint held up a baseball glove.

•

“You ready for this?” You ask Tye, playing with your food, too nervous to eat.

“No.” He laughed bitterly.

“At least we don’t have to help them track down the Stones.” You sigh. The Avengers were all racking their brains, trying to track them all down. Since you and Tye knew nothing about the Stones, you were excused from the meeting.

“Yeah. God forbid we use a couple brain cells.” He chuckled.

“What if we screw it up?” You ask after a few moments of silence.

“That’s what I’m worried about. We only have one shot to bring everyone back.” He sighed.

“Hopefully the one we’re assigned won’t be hard to get.” You kick your feet up and drape your legs across his lap.

“Please, as if anything with this job is easy.” Tye scoffed, shoving your legs off of him.

“I’m just happy to see everybody again. Did you notice Clint’s fresh cut?” You grinned.

“And the tattoos.” Tye nodded. “And Thor kinda...bulked up.”

“He plays Fortnite now.” You nod.

“Excuse me?” Tye raised an eyebrow, before pretending to gag.

“It’s...disturbing.” You giggle.

“Guys!” Scott ran into the room, a panicked look on his face. You and Tye stand, waiting for him to continue. “We got it.”

You both rush out to the room they’d been planning in, seeing the plans on the holographic screen. After they thoroughly explain the plan, everyone headed to bed for a good nights rest. Tye stays behind, eyes scanning the screens.

Jaime is counting on him, his best friend is counting on him to bring him back to life. You’re counting on him to bring back Eduardo and Peter. Scott and Clint’s counting on him to bring their families back. Steve is counting on him to bring Bucky back. Everyone’s counting on him to bring everyone back, and it terrifies him.

“What are you doing, kid?”

He looks over to see Natasha in the doorway, a concerned look on her face.

“Just...triple checking.” He mumbled, trying to slow his breathing and calm his nerves.

“Hey, it’ll be okay.” Natasha walked over to comfort her son. “You’ll be with Y/N, you know how she is. Nothing ever goes wrong with her around.”

“It went wrong on Titan.” He muttered, then shook his head. “It’s just...Jaime, he’s like my brother. I need to bring him back.”

“We will bring him back. We’re going to bring everyone back.” She reassured him.

“Thanks...mom.”

•

“All right. We have a plan. Six Stones, three teams. One shot.” Steve says as everyone suits up. “Five years ago, we lost. All of us. We lost friends...We lost family...We lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams, you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. One round trip each. No mistakes. No do-overs. Most of us are going somewhere we know. But it doesn't mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we're gonna win. Whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes.” You all repeat, forming a circle and putting your fists in the middle. You look at everyone, each person has determination in their eyes.

“He's pretty good at that.” Rocket looked up at you.

“Right?” Scott said excitedly.

“All right. You heard the man. Stroke those keys, jolly green.” Tony told Bruce, who would be staying behind to make sure everything went smoothly on this end.

“Tractors engaged.” Bruce nodded.

“You promise to bring that back in one piece, right?” Rocket asks about his shrunken ship in Clint’s hand.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Okay. I'll do my best.” Clint nodded along.

“As promises go, that was pretty lame.” Rocket mumbled.

“See you in a minute.” Natasha smiles brightly at Clint and Tye.

“Good luck, mom.” Tye nodded.

And with that, you enter the Quantum Realm.

#the rise of iron maiden #eduardo dorado jr x stark! reader #marvel #request #young justice #avengers endgame #natasha romanoff #clint barton #james rhodes #nebula #rocket #tony stark #steve rogers #scott lang #tye longshadow #bruce banner #thor odinson

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hellsbellschime · 4 years

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How is it "shipping it adult Sansa with Sandor" when shippers' favorite comebacks to their critics "our ship is canon 💅 eat that!"? If they were shipping it with adult Sansa it would mean they're just like any other shippers writing their various AUs, no one would mind them then, see how no one cares about Stannis/Sansa, Tywin/Sansa, Willas/Sansa etc. We couldn't care less what people do with their creative work.

But canon is where 28 yo Sandor commented on 11 yo Sansa's developing breasts, canon is where he harassed her, where he was verbally, emotionally and physically abusive towards her. Every word out of his mouth was condescending to her. Canon is where he tried/wanted to rape her when she was 12. Oh wait, they don't think when this grown ass man waits in this girl's bedroom while drunk, pushes the girl on the bed and put a knife to her throat is a rape attempt. Just like they don't accept him saying to Arya "I should have fucked her bloody and ripped her heart out before leaving her for that dwarf" as confession. (Yes he was goading Arya. But 2 things show his mindset: First, he could've just say "I should've killed her, kidnapped her" literally anything else but his mind went straight to rape b/c that was his intention. Second, he regrets Tyrion "gets to have her" and not him. Pleasee...)

No, whoever it is they are lying. Do they think we forget their wonderful interpretations of the text? How they think her throat being dry and tight is a symbol for her not being ready for sex but she will be later winkwink? How they call her nightmare in ASOS, a nightmare triggered by Marillion's rape attempt, a rape attempt that once again includes a drunk men using songs as metaphors for sex (or in her case rape), a sex dream? How they call unkiss "sansa desiring/fantasizing about sandor"? When we all know unkiss is another manifestation of her classic trauma response. She rewrites her memories to make things more bearable. Just like she did it with Joffrey and Arya b/c she was still supposed to marry him and Arya being the guilty one is more bearable than her future husband being a sadistic asshole She separates Petyr the man who "saves" and protects her from the Littlefinger the man who molests her in her mind. She prefers a man who beats her, Ser Arys, to all the other men who beat her b/c he beats her less hard and talks to her cordially. That's Sansa, she paints things more favorably in order to deal with them. Is it any wonder she turned sandor's attack into a song of a knight stealing a kiss from a maiden rather than admitting a man who protected her occasionally also assaulted her? Just like all the other men who protected and/or tried to save had also ulterior motives: Dontos, Littlefinger, Tyrion, Sandor all the same. She was terrified that he'll kiss her and he'll kill her that night, it is literally on the page since she's the pov character not that brute. But she changes the memory to make it more bearable. Still her subconscious reveals how she really feels in her nightmare. Yet according to them all these are proof their relationship is canon and will be endgame.

They only started with this "we only ship adult Sansa" lie when new generation of fans came along and said what the fuck. Back then, Sansa is so universally hated that nobody cared. Everybody was expecting for her to die anyway. So what if she ends up with one of her abusers, it'd just mean she's not around anymore, yay. The only ones they occasionally clashed with were sanrions. It is funny how they (now with LF stans too) keep accusing the other's fave being a pedo/molester/groomer and unfit suitor for Sansa but are totally blind to their own fave. Then due to show, series became more popular, Sansa fandom started to grow, and new Sansa fans along with general fandom told them "you can't read and you're all the same all of you are gross lmao insert that spider-man meme", suddenly "oh no we don't ship them at their current ages." Girl GTFO, you fool no one with that shit when y'all continue to 1) deny Sandor being a pedo and her abuser IN CANON 2) claim sansan is canon.

Jesus Christ this was a journey, but to be clear I do not ship Sansan and I generally avoid it as much as possible, so frankly I have no idea what it’s shippers think or what they like or don’t like or what they find acceptable or unacceptable. Also damn you straight to hell for informing me that Tywin/Sansa is actually a thing, good god that is not an image I want in my brain.

#anti sansan #Anonymous

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etlunainmorte · 4 years

Text

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*The Best Chocolate Chip Cookie*

Prep Time - 15 minutes

Cook Time - 15 minutes

Chill Time - 2 hours

Total Time - 30 minutes

Yield - 24 cookies

Serving Size - 1 cookie

*Ingredients

1/2 cup ( 113g ) unsalted butter, melted

1/3 cup ( 66 g ) granulated sugar

1/2 cup ( 104g ) packed light brown sugar

1 large egg

1 teaspoon ( 5ml ) vanilla extract

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 cups ( 186g ) all - purpose flour

1 1/2 cups ( 255g ) chocolate chips ( semi - sweet or milk )

*Instructions

1. Note: This dough requires chilling.

2. Place melted butter in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment ( or a large bowl if using a hand mixer ). Add granulated and brown sugars and mix on low speed until the mixture is smooth. Mix in egg and vanilla extract and mix on medium speed until combined.

3. Mix in baking soda and salt, then slowly mix in flour and mix just until the batter is smooth and comes together. Be sure to scrape the sides of the bowl during mixing. Slowly mix in chocolate chips.

4. Line a cookie sheet with a silicone baking mat or parchment paper. Scoop 2 tablespoon balls of dough onto the cookie sheet. Spacing doesn’t matter because you will be chilling the dough. Cover with plastic wrap and chill for at least 2 hours.

5. Preheat oven to 350°F. Line a second cookie sheet with parchment paper or a silicone baking mat.

6. Remove the chilled cookie dough balls from the refrigerator and space them 2 - inches apart on the cookie sheets. Bake ( 2 tablespoon sized cookies ) for 11 - 15 minutes, or until the edges are a light golden and the tops are no longer glossy. Let cool on the cookie sheets at least 10 minutes before removing.

*Recipe Notes

Try using white chocolate chips or a combination of milk, semi - sweet, and white chocolate chips instead of all one flavor. You can even substitute butterscotch or peanut butter chips, or add your favorite nuts. Just keep the amount of add - ins to 1 1/2 cups.

*Nutrition Information

*Nutritional information not guaranteed to be accurate

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❄ Three Wishes ❄

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V has been staring at the peanut butter cookie in his hand for the past half hour.

Admittedly, the events that took place earlier during the day in the Red Grave shopping district has been weighing heavily on his mind.

Yes, the atmosphere ( despite the place being jam - packed with Christmas holiday shoppers ) was perfect, the movie ( although the majority of the scenes were not very tolerable ) was eye - candy, the food ( which was uniquely and refreshingly Japanese for him ) was great, even the little trip to the music shop ( which almost tempted him to buy a new violin of his own ) was calm and peaceful.

All in all, it was almost perfect. Almost.

What really took the perfect moment from him was that Christopher Lancaster guy. Again.

After defeating the evil doctor almost two months ago, V seriously thought that it was the end of that fiend. He truly believed that the evil doctor was rotting away in the fiery pits of the Underworld, his flesh being fed to a multitude of famished Demons. Alas, he was wrong: it turned out that he, like you, was reincarnated, and, apparently, he was your former lover.

The ride on the way back to Swan Lane was the most awkward moment that V has ever experienced. Although Nico's driving was normal for once, V, or Griffon, wasn't able to say anything to lessen the tension in the air. In fact, one could safely say that the demonic bird and the noisy Artisan were both tongue - tied for once. Despite knowing that his familiar ( who was still feeling salty after being left alone in the house ) and the Artisan ( who was feeling extra curious and mischievous to know the status of your relationship with him ) teamed up to spy on your very first date with V, the poet just couldn't bring himself to scold either one of them. He knew it would only make you even more uncomfortable, and the least thing he wanted was for you to feel bad.

The one hour ride from the shopping district to your house ended with you nodding to him and entering your house without even saying a word. So, naturally, V was worried sick about you.

What happened between you and that man that made you feel like that? Did he hurt you? Humiliated you, then left you? Lancaster did have strong opinions about your domestic personality. What did he mean by that, anyway?

Wait a second, V thought as some awful feeling made his stomach turn. Did Lancaster - ?!

"WHOA, V! WHERE WILL YA BRING THAT COOKIE?!" Griffon, who was quietly observing V from his perch for the past half hour as his master stared at the said cookie in his hand, squawked and flapped his wings erratically, positively shocked upon witnessing the poet's weird behavior.

V noticed how his actions must have startled the bird, opened his mouth wide, and finally ate the cookie whole.

Hmm, yum,...

V swallowed and turned to Griffon. "That man must've done something that made her feel that way." He said quietly as if someone's listening or spying on him.

"Well, yeah, of course he did! What do ya expect?" The bird answered. "That man is evil! I should've plucked his eyeballs out but, that crazy bitch stopped me and called me a chicken!"

Griffon's words successfully started the fire, making V's eyes widen in both shock and anger. The man grabbed his metal cane from the sofa and started making his way towards the front door, sweater, loose pants, fluffy slippers, and all. The man would've walked outside without any protection from the harsh cold weather if it weren't for Griffon's intervention.

"WHOA, WHOA, WHOA! WAIT!" The bird flew towards V at a break - neck speed and yelled at his master's face, desperately trying to prevent the poet from storming outside and killing himself in the process. "WHAT DO YA THINK YE'RE DOIN'?!"

"What I'm doing,... is putting an end to that miserable man's life once and for all."

"I get ya! I get that he may have done somethin' to sweets - HEY, LISTEN TO ME!" Griffon screeched as he tried his best to stop V from going outside by grabbing onto his shirt with his talons, almost ripping the white fabric to shreds.

But, the poet would not be stopped. Despite the demonic bird's efforts, he still made his way towards the door. He grabbed the brass door knob and turned to his familiar one last time before throwing it open. "I swear: if he so much as touch a single strand of her hair, I will send him back to the Underworld where he belongs! I don't care if I die in the process! I want to see him suffer and I don't care if it's the last thing I see before I die!"

"NO, NO, NO, V! YE'RE BEIN' RECKLESS! YE'RE - !"

But, Griffon was too late. V managed to open the door, and,...

The poet and the familiar stared in disbelief at the figure standing before them. Slightly shivering and partly covered with snow was none other than the lovely female that almost drove V to murder.

"(Y/N)?" Both V and Griffon muttered in disbelief.

How long have you been standing there in the cold?!

Were you,...

Were you listening all this time?!

You smiled at him as you held a small container closer to your chest. "Hi, V! Umm, did I, ahh, come at the wrong time?"

"No! I mean," V stuttered as Griffon quietly retreated to his former position near the shelves. Stepping aside to make way for you, he spoke, " ... please, come in. Make yourself at home."

"Ah! There's no need. I won't stay for too long. I,... just wanna ask for a favor, actually."

"What favor?"

Griffon, who deliberately heard this, sneaked back towards V and positioned himself just behind the door next to the poet to listen to the conversation. Shadow, who seemed to have picked up on the situation, as well, only squinted her eyes as if to let her fellow familiar do his thing.

"You see, uhm," You began quite awkwardly. As used as you were to talking to the opposite gender, you still couldn't shake the unfamiliar feeling you have when talking to V. There seemed to be something in the poet, in the way he looked at you, touched you, and spoke to you, that pulled you in like a moth to the lamp, or the lamb to its shepherd, and you have mixed feelings about this, honestly.

However, it was not the right time to be musing about the mystery that was V. Taking a deep breath and inching closer towards him, you spoke once more. " ... I've heard from Nico that you can play the violin."

"Oh! Why, yes, of course!" V, who caught a whiff of your lovely flowery - scent cologne and going internally crazy about it, confirmed with a huge smile on his face. "How can I help you?"

"Can I invite you to work tomorrow? Do you still have that violin of yours?"

"She's asking him out!" Griffon whispered back to Shadow. After hearing this, she stood from the fluffy carpet and made her way to the demonic bird to also listen in on the conversation.

"I'm afraid that - "

"You can't come?" You whispered, feeling sad and disappointed with his answer. "It's okay, though. I understand. It's all too sudden, after all."

"The shy boy is ruinin' it!" Griffon savagely whispered, making Shadow raise her paw in an effort to push her master forward towards you.

"No! W - what I mean is," V stuttered ( at the same time Shadow’s paw almost made contact with his bottom ), wanting to clear out the confusion. " ... I'm afraid I don't have a violin right now. I would love to go but,..."

You knitted your brows, your mind deep in thought. Then, raising a gloved hand and pointing at the ceiling, you looked back at him with your eyes wide open. "My partner has one! I mean, she left it there, I know! You see, we have a thanksgiving party tomorrow, and we're short on participants. My partner was supposed to play the violin during one of the book reading sessions. But, she said she needed to take a break.”

"Is that so?" His confused face finally clearing up and his tensed shoulders finally relaxing, he smiled and nodded. "I can do that, yes. I will come."

Griffon and Shadow peaked just in time to see you leaping in the air in excitement and grabbing V's sleeve with your free hand as you smiled all too brightly at him.

"Thank you so much! Oh, God! You don't know how relieved I' am to know that you'll come."

"Anything for you, my dear." V answered, once again making your face heat up. "What time shall I pick you up?"

Oh, why does he have that killer, adorable, smug smile?! "Oh, uhm, would seven in the morning be okay? The program won't start until eleven but, we still have to prepare."

"Seven o'clock, it is."

"And here, gran insists I give you this."

V received, yet, another jar of cookies. Classic chocolate - chipped, this time. And it's still so warm and looked so delicious,...

"Could you, please, deliver my gratitude to your sweet gran?" V asked, knowing how much Adelaide missed her own grandfather, who looked exactly like him.

"Will do." You smiled at him. "See you tomorrow, V!" Taking a step back, you waved at him and finally went back home.

"Good night, my dear." V said, also waving at you as he was watching you make your way safely to your house. And when he turned around, he noticed both Shadow and Griffon looking up at him.

"Ohoho, someone's gonna get fat this Christmas!" Griffon mocked as he focused his golden eyes on the jar at V's hands. "Hey, we're invited, right?"

***

❄ @la-vita , @clevermentalitybeliever , @v-vic , and @birdgirl69 . ❄

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#devil may cry 5 #vitale sparda #three wishes #v x reader #v x you #chapter 4 #check yes or no

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