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mvrtaiswriting · 1 year

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Reiner Braun - Wonderland (part 2)

Hullo! Part 2 of Wonderland is finally here! I know I previously said it would only have two parts, but it is highly likely I'll need at least one more part before calling it quits! hope you enjoy this <;3 (part 1 here) (part 3 here)

Follows AOT timeline, so please be mindful of any spoilers ahead. Specifically, this first part contains spoilers from season 4 (ish). The segments and different timezones of the story are divided by quotes from different Taylor Swift songs, which were vital for the formation of this idea. More specifically, the song that served as the backbone for this part of the story was Wildest dreams, from the 1989 album (I wish there was a Taylor's version for it, but we'll have to wait I guess.) This part also used Illicit affairs, from the Folklore album and Getaway Car, from the reputation album.

gn! reader.

usual AOT violence.

1.3 K words.

-> tag list for my dear readers who were waiting for an update! lmk if you want to be added <3 @maliakealoha, @turituri09.

I thought "Heaven can't help me now".

A familiar scent tingled your senses, you could recognise the smell of his cologne even in such a busy street, with Sasha shoving ice cream up to your face and local food sellers frying their specialties in the main road. You took a quick glare over the crowd, scanning the millions of faces just to see him standing against one of the shop's wall - his eyes locked on your figure since God knows how long, merely hiding away from the rest of the Survey Corps. It was a miracle Levi didn't notice him staring - things could have escalated quickly otherwise.

You took Hange and the rest of your team to explore the city, explaining everything about their cultural and technological development.

"You've picked up the accent."

Jean scoffed, now bored of listening to everything you had to say. In the past 9 months, you had a full immersion experience of Liberio - you even managed to obtain a driving license. Hange had told you to maintain a discrete profile whilst trying to acquire as many skills as possible, and you did. Onyankopon as your main teacher, you had managed to completely blend in with the citizens of a nation that tried to exterminate your own population, destroying the city you grew up in and killing the people you loved. A nation that birthed Reiner, the love of your life, your nemesis - everything and nothing at the same time, the person that gave you everything and scarred you the most.

When the meeting was over, you greeted everyone and decided to part ways with them.

"They'll get suspicious if I won't be back.. Have fun for me too!"

You said, leaving the building before anyone could stop you or convince you otherwise.

Make sure nobody sees you leave. Hood over your head, keep your eyes down.

Finally entering what had now become your home, you took off the hooded cloak and hang it by the door. Hold habits die hard after all - and despite your cloak didn't have the wings of freedom on its back, it still reminded you of home, of Paradis, of your mission.

"Did they like it?"

Reiner said, greeting you at the door with a warm cup of coffee and placing a soft kiss on your forehead. You only nodded in response, smiling weakly and accepting the cup of coffee. Making your way to the sofa, you let yourself fall on the soft fabric and kept silent. Replaying the day you just spent with your fellow comrades, you wondered whether it was fair for you to hate Reiner so much. Now that you're sitting in his apartment, drinking his coffee, living in his town. It's easy to wonder what life would be like if it wasn't for all these little games, the wars, the hate. You never questioned your loyalty towards Paradis, but sometimes you wished Reiner questioned his. After all, he was serving a country that hated him down to every stupid cell of his body.

His hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room.

Tangled up in bed, you're full of him. Reiner's finger tips slowly drawing imaginary patterns on your soft skin whilst he tries to catch his breath. Making love with him was always exhausting, full of passion, and hate, and love, and remorse. It was an explosion of feelings, something that felt so right but so wrong. Loving him was incredibly easy - his features had grown with him, so much sometimes you could almost forget what he did. You could only see the beautiful man he had become, the thoughtful, loving man who only wanted to redeem himself. Who fell on his knees the first time he saw you again and begged for your forgiveness, because his feelings were always real. Because he had loved you since the first day of training as cadets and continued to do so even after so, so many years. Because he hated himself for what he did, wishing he stayed - wishing he would have known better.

It was always easy for Reiner to hit your soft spot, he was your only weakness. Your only motivation. If only your friends knew about this.. no one would approve this. But now your hair smell like his cologne and his lips taste like you, creating a bubble that you hoped would never pop.

"Say you'll remember me."

You whispered, passing your fingers through his blonde hair. Reiner raises an eyebrow in response, melting into your touch.

"Once this will be over."

You whisper again, biting your lips to try and stop the tears from flooding your eyes. His rough hand caresses your cheek and you melt onto his touch, your face slowly adhering to his palm. The sorrow your hearts feel is the same, after all, he only has a few years left.

"I will. Rosy cheeks and all."

Reiner answered, pulling you closer to him and hugging you tightly to his chest. You smiled, grabbing his face between your hands, taking your time to admire the handsome man you lover was. The way time and pain have marked his face, tracing little wrinkles around his forehead and eyes. His strong arms were now holding you and keeping you safe, and that's how you wanted to remember your lover. Handsome, in love, and yours.

It's no surprise I turned you in, 'cause us traitors never win.

When you snuggled out of bed that morning, Reiner was still in deep sleep. Gentle snores filled the room and allowed you to dress up silently, packing the few thing you had left in his room. You took a second to observe him, as if you could photograph this moment with your pupils. The white sheets were messily covered his toned body, the bed still messy from the night before. You stared at him for a little longer, whispering a little "I love you" to him before leaving that apartment forever. Closing the door behind your back, you put the hood of your cloak on to cover your face - and wondered if he felt the same way 5 years ago, when he ran and never came back. If he felt the same ache in his heart, if he felt this much love for you - if he felt as a traitor.

It was too late to think look back now, as you put your new ODM gear on. Levi had been rehearsing the plan all day, everything was ready: Eren would signal the start of the counterattack.

Standing on the roof of a building, you observed the plan unravel swiftly, everything going according to plan.

"Everything okay?"

Jean carefully asked, noticing how you zoned out when Reiner crossed the stage. You shook your head weakly in response as you hoped with every fibre of your being he would not be Eren's aim. If Tybur was the main target of this campaign, why was Reiner even remotely involved?

Before you could even think twice about it, you were flying around buildings, fighting civilians and avoiding any stone Eren's titan would throw. You fought, you killed. The blood of civilian's that greeted you every morning and sold you the coffee you loved so much was now on your hands, and it was hard to ignore. It was hard to think that a more diplomatic approach wouldn't have solved things. Rushing to the airship to retire and follow the orders received from your superiors, you looked at Liberio for one last time. Scanning through the building, the smoke, the shots, you finally managed to catch a glimpse of the Armoured Titan. A bittersweet smile formed on your lips as you followed the titan's movements from above - it looked as beautiful as its owner, as crazy as this might have sounded. A chuckle escaped your lips as a tear streamed down your cheek, burning your skin as if your eyes were leaking acid.

I knew it from the first Old Fashioned, we were cursed.

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misc-obeyme · 3 months

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hii, I just want to say, please take all the time you need!! You should never apologize about a lack of something when you come first. i hope your motivation comes back, but depression really is a butt kicker. I understand how you feel. I've been in a slump for months, but I'm slowly clawing my way out of it. Sending lots of love !! 🫶

I'm still trying to find the confidence to pick up a pen again and draw or try writing again. Your blog makes me feel really inspired !! It's one of my favorites, hence why I'm in the ask box so often lolol

i was gonna ramble about an idea but this ask is already getting long so I'll split it aksjdj

- ✨ anon

Dear, sweet ✨ anon!

Thank you so much! Depression really sucks, especially when it feels like it's never ending... I hope both of us are able to get out of our slumps! I kind of move between staring at a blank screen and staring at the ceiling... like, I want to write, but my brain can't seem to hold onto anything long enough for me to. And then I feel guilty and then I end up sleeping instead lol.

It really means so much to know that my blog inspires you! That's honestly one of the highest compliments ever. I really love to encourage others and to share ideas. I want everyone to have that confidence to create art, whether that's drawing or writing or any other form. I love to see you in my ask box! Know you're always welcome! I truly believe in you and I know that you'll be able to create again soon! We'll get through it together!

I do see your other ask, just know that I'm saving it for when I can give it a proper response! I don't know what happened but suddenly I've been getting a TON of asks. And I don't want to give a short response because I don't have enough time to give my usual novel length answers lol. I figure most people would rather I pace myself with them than cut my answers short.

Anyway, I really appreciate you sending me this lovely message! I hope you're having a wonderful day! 💕

#your other ask just has SO MANY good ideas #I want to spend some time on it hee hee #✨ anon #misc answers

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ketho484 · 1 year

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Part 8! Finally! Yaaassss!!!

I'll let you know now, it isn't going to get as intense as part 7 was for the rest of the story, I promise

Au belongs to @frillsand

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Chapter 8: Spark

Months went by since that day. August, which is the start of autumn, quickly rushed by, along with September, October, and November. During that time, PlayFellow made an announcement to the public that production would have to stop until Wally recovered. Many fans, the stage hands, the director, even the cast all sent presents to Wally’s hospital room as he rested, unable to wake up. Every moment she could, of each and every day, Willow would come by and visit Wally while he was recovering. She would talk to him as he slept, pick up hobbies like origami, story writing, and even drawing. She took after him in that way. The cast members did what they could to help her, but she refused to budge. They tried to tell her that the longer he sleeps, the less likely he might wake up, but Willow never listened, She still came and stayed with him, falling asleep next to him in the late hours of the day until someone came to take her back to Eddie’s house, where she was staying until Wally could take her to his home. Thankfully the doctors all said he wasn’t going brain dead through Wally’s months of comatose, so the cast all hoped and prayed and wished for Wally to recover soon. On December 5th, the day of Winter’s first snow, those prayers were finally answered. Willow was writing a story in a journal Frank had given her when it happened.

Wally’s face contorted into a look of mild discomfort, his fingers twitching as his hearing came back to him and he heard the heart monitor. His eyes cracked open only for his hand to rush up to his face as he cried out in pain due to the bright hospital room lights. He felt something sit beside him and gently grab his hand, slowly moving it over so the light came in slower increments and, as such, didn’t blind him. Sitting next to him, her face looking down at him…was Willow. Her hair was a bit longer, her clothes clearly newer, and she had a look of both worry and relief in her eyes as tears streamed down her cheeks. She had no bruises on her, no more bandages. She had been healing. Wally’s eyes widened and he immediately sat up, pulling his baby sister into a tight hug as they both started to cry. Willow was relieved that Wally was finally awake, and Wally was relieved that Willow was safe from that monster of a man. A doctor called Eddie, telling him that Wally was awake. With that news, Eddie grabbed the cast and they all came to the hospital, seeing Willow trying to catch Wally up on what’s happened. Wally saw them come in and smiled brightly.

“Hey, fellas” He greeted them as both Julie and Sally almost tackled him off the bed with a hug

“Good to finally see you awake” Barnaby smiled as the cast all got situated “You really gave us a scare”

“You especially scared Willow” Poppy said with a frown “She came in to visit you every day just to see if you’d wake up”

“Wait, really?” Wally asked, looking at his sister as she gave him a solemn nod and leaned against him

“She’s been staying with me since you were brought here” Eddie explained “And PlayFellow had to shut down production so you could recover”

“They still paid us, though” Sally piped up, which got everyone in the room to laugh

“Well…Is Eric gone?” Wally asked through somewhat gritted teeth

“He’s in prison as of now” Frank explained “We all went to his trial, Willow and Eddie both testified, and he was given a death sentence, specifically the electric chair. However, Willow asked if his sentence could wait until you woke up”

“I figured you’d wanna see him go” Willow shrugged

“Well, you guessed right” Wally said as he hugged her “That monster deserves what’s coming to him, and I wanna watch him get some retribution”

“Excuse me, mister Darling?” A nurse came in, making Wally tighten his grip on Willow “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but you can be free to leave today”

“Really?” Willow smiled brightly

“Yep. We just need to make sure he can walk properly. He’s been in bed for a long time, so we need to be careful” The nurse said as he came and undid the IV drip from Wally’s wrist, wrapping it up

With that, Wally went with the nurse for a quick walk, Willow going with simply because she didn’t want to be away from Wally. He could move around just fine, likely thanks to the sturdy nature of the puppets as a species. Wally was discharged from the hospital and Eddie drove the two siblings home, mostly to drop off all the gifts Wally had acquired from his fans and friends. Once they were ready, they all met at the execution hall downtown for Eric’s execution. It wasn’t pretty. Nobody said a word as the switch was flipped and the electric chair was activated, electrocuting Eric and frying his brain to a crisp. Wally made sure Willow didn’t have to see it, letting her hide her face in his neck as he carried her. When they left, Sally noticed that Willow forgot her journal. Against her better judgment, Sally read a few pages and was astonished by what she saw. She ran out with the book in hand and gave it to Willow, keeping her mouth shut, but giving the child a note. Willow, on the way back to Wally’s house, read the note and smiled.

‘You should pitch this to the director. It could be a good movie’

Willow took that to heart. When they got home, Wally gave her an official tour of the manor, showing her where everything was and even giving her her own, real bedroom just across the hall from his room. Needless to say, the kid was excited. She’d gone from being dirt poor and living with her kidnappers to living in luxury with a big brother she never knew she had. It was like a dream come true for this kid. She knew it would be a big adjustment, but she could do it, right?

That night, to celebrate Wally waking up and Willow getting to live with her brother, the entire cast went to eat at Bobolli’s Pizza for dinner. It was a blast, to say the least, from the pizza to the talking and catching up. It felt like Willow had finally found a real family. Soon enough, she gave her journal to Wally.

“What’s this?” Her big brother asked curiously as he opened it up. His jaw dropped as he started reading it, making Willow blush a shade of red brighter than Poppy’s feathers “You guys need to read this”

Wally passed the journal around and showed the cast the story Willow had written. It was about all of them saving a rainbow that had turned gray along with the angel that painted it across the sky. It was a true work of creativity.

“Goodness me” Frank spoke up with a smile as he and Eddie skimmed the pages “This is stunning work”

“Yeah, kiddo!” Eddie piped up “It’s original, it’s got a good theme, it could probably be good for a musical”

“I read it earlier” Sally said with a smile “I figured that she could let the director see it, get it made into a real film”

“That’s a great idea, Sally” Julie beamed a smile

“That’s only if Willow wants to present it” Wally stated as the book was soon passed back to his sister “Well? What do you say, sis?”

Everyone looked at Willow for her answer. With her cheeks still red as a cherry tomato, she smiled brightly at the cast.

“When is he available?”

#welcome home #oc #actor au #wally darling

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fairlyang · 5 months

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Far away 🌻

mariposa by peach tree rascals but it's miles thinking of gwen after she's no longer in his dimension

w/c: 753

tags: fluff, miles missing gwen, down bad, fluff

I can't wait for you to come my way

I've been far away, but I'll keep running

Just to find a way to you 'til then

Quickly after the other spiders returned to their own dimensions all Miles was thinking of was wanting them back. To have others like him to talk to. To get advice from. To swing around with.

But one thing that crept into his mind even more was Gwen. He hadn't even known her for too long but he felt like he could talk to her easily and then realizing he wouldn't be able to see her anymore kind of just stung.

He grew use to seeing her and enjoyed their chats more than he thought he would. Even before he knew who she really was he felt attracted to her, obviously shown by his poor attempts at flirting and the proof of that being her haircut.

He wanted to figure out a way of how to visit them, or Gwen specifically. He didn't know too much about quantum physics but on days where he'd be done with schoolwork and being a friendly neighbor spiderman he would go off reading textbooks and writing down notes while also trying to remember everything he's reading.

I been running from it, tired of running from it

Scared of feeling something

Now I'm stuck and tryna get up out of this hole

He eventually had some understanding of quantum theory and as he thought of it more he was realizing his feelings for Gwen grew stronger. He hasn't seen her for two weeks and he felt like he was going to lose his mind. How was it possible to have a crush on someone from a whole other universe?

He was second guessing on whether or not he should continue his research, feeling almost nervous of how serious his feelings had grown and unsure if he'd even do anything if he did end up figuring out how to get to her dimension.

I tried to be strong, I tried to make it work

But I've been feeling too numb

He tried hard to stay motivated, and slowly gaining confidence that if he did figure it out (which was a big if) he'd be able to tell her how he felt, or at least ease himself into it. Maybe take previous advice uncle Aaron gave him months prior before he even met her.

Skies are bleeding on me

Why'd you leave me lonely?

Feeling Whitney Stoney

He knew she had to go home otherwise she would've just died but it still saddened him when he was no longer able to hang out with her. She was easier to talk to after he found out she was just like him and Peter. He'd never find someone else that was as easy-going and funny like her that'd also have him in his feels as fast as she did.

Now I'm stuck and wonder where I ever went wrong

How could I be strong?

I'm fighting for your love

Miles wished there was another way of getting to her, something easier like taking a train to her. Unfortunately for him there was no way of getting to her. Unbeknownst to him anyway.

All he could do was draw her from his memory, and lucky for him his memory wasn't failing him. He vividly remembered the pretty blue of her eyes and the way they sparkled.

Or the way her hair looked when they first met when he got to class late and she was the only one to laugh at his not so funny joke.

Or the way her eyebrow piercing suited her so well.

Or how she had such a cute smile.

Or how pretty she looked in his school's uniform even though every girl wore the same exact thing.

Or the way she was fighting and swinging.

I can't wait for you to come my way

I've been far away, but I'll keep running

Just to find a way to you 'til then

He decided to change his mind on what he wanted to do in the future, instead of focusing on his art and his old dream of wanting to be an artist, he realized he could do better and greater things.

He could be the one to figure out quantum theory, he could find a way to go see his friends and he would do whatever it takes.

And he wouldn't wait until he got to see Gwen again, at some point.

#miles morales #miles morales fluff #miles morales fic #miles morales imagine #across the spiderverse #spiderman #ghostflower #ghostflower fluff #ghostflower fic

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sincerely-sofie · 7 months

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Check-in for October 24, 2023

I'm planning on doing regular check-ins that peeps can read or skip as much as they please. If you want to see behind the scenes of my projects or get to know me a bit better, feel free to peek below the cut! If not, just look at this color palette I made for my web dev class and admire it:

I know green and pink are my favorite colors, so I may be just a tad biased, but look!!! Look at how pretty it is!!!

I plan to use the palette for a website that is basically a guided tour of a fictional town that's populated by bug people, and while the colors used in the initial character sketches are still my preference, I don't think they look too bad in this proof of concept image! They definitely need some tweaking, and some details in the art itself need correcting, but all around it's not too shabby :>

I also made the logo for the website which, while uninspired, doesn't look that bad. I'm not in a logo design course, so I can't be too upset about that. I made two versions--- a light and dark one--- so that I could have it appear on most colors of background.

Also, I've printed off tons of art and stuck it on my walls over the past few days to inspire me. The art wall has been very successful in beautifying my space, but I've been a bit too worn out to draw much other than the start of a project where I draw individual generations of pokemon by memory. Venusaur looks exactly like I remembered it, but also nothing like that at all. Charizard's line only looks halfway decent by virtue of Twig existing.

I must say, though, that I am charmed by these drawings' doofy lil grins. Just look at Bulbasaur. He is raring to go! Charmander is ready to shake your hand! Look at these lads!!

I've been trying to learn Clip Studio Paint by drawing a new The Present is a Gift comic in it, but I cannot begin to explain to you all how intimidating of a program it is for me. I'm a Procreate gal, y'all. I have a conniption whenever I look at the Photoshop interface. When I look at this:

I am desperate for the cozy white space of this:

I spent over an hour struggling to draw a simple piece for Instagram, admittedly while desperately trying to get OBS to not give out on me while I recorded my screen, but I think that I'm slowly learning how to not faint whenever the Paint window boots up.

youtube

Anyhoo--- enjoy the WIP teaser for the upcoming comic featuring a chat between Dusknoir (piloting a KO'd Twig) and Darkrai amidst a cave-in. If I am found dead, know that said comic worked alongside Clip Studio Paint to kill me.

As an update for The Present is a Gift in terms of the fanfic, I recently broke 6,000 words for the first draft. I haven't been writing too regularly--- when I do, it's usually to just sit down for 30 minutes max to try and get a little bit of a head start on NaNoWriMo coming up--- but whenever I do, the words come in batches of 400-700+ at a time. My dudes, I used to take a week to reach the lower end of that amount. I've been beating perfectionism back with a stick while sobbing "Quantity begets quality! Quantity begets quality!", but since I've set myself a challenge to write as many garbage words as possible without editing them until the first draft is done, I've been writing--- and enjoying the process of writing--- more than I have in my entire life.

I've been trying to win NaNoWriMo, a challenge where you write 50k words in November, for the last 7 years. I resigned myself to being a NaNo rebel and trying to write just 15k words next month. But if I keep cranking out 1,500 words in under two writing sprints per day--- without properly trying to eliminate distractions--- I think I could actually win for once??? I didn't think Pokemon Mystery Dungeon fanfiction would be what gave me a fighting chance at winning NaNoWriMo, but here I am. PMD brainrot truly is a miraculous thing, but I'll have to see exactly miraculous it is on the 1st of November.

So... yep! I probably should have figured out a way to sign off on check-in posts before deciding to publish this. Oops. Welp. Um. Thanks for reading?

Sincerely, Sofie

#sofie checks in #web development #web dev #web design #fanfiction writer #nanowrimo #Youtube #pngtuber #The Present is a Gift AU Update

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fayrinferno · 29 days

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Shower Thoughts on AI Art

I think my aversion to AI art is not a secret and there's ton of posts that I agree with and I could not have put better. Still, I will try to collect a few thoughts of why it's so shitty and depressing for me. No, it's not even because I draw and write a little and I feel threatened by it and the art theft it entails (at my level I just don't). This is more of a consumer standpoint.

AI art for me is like watering down the same teabag 20 times, yeah, you got the ingredients correct and you got some result out of it. But is it still tea? Anyway, you don't care, you water it down the 21st time and the water doesn't even color, so what now? You figure out you just need to put some artificial colorant into hot water and you can call it a tea. Like they do it in the food adverts. Replacing actual food with delicious-looking chemicals. You can make so many cups of tea-looking liquid with just one a bit of colorant. You can skip the whole growing the plant, picking the leaves, drying them and whatnot, even something as minor as unpacking the teabag each time... and you get a nice looking cup of tea without all the effort! It's easier, quicker, cheaper. People will eventually get used to the new definition of tea. Except it's poison.

But before you even started slowly poisoning people with it, you devaluated what tea should be. You watered it down till all the taste disappeared and it became colored water that you could replace with... well, colored water.

You can pop these "works" out like microwave popcorn. You can post 20 of them online in an hour. You and everyone else. You are making trash out of a rare and precious good, to be sold at dumping price. In all human history, people who created masterpieces had honed their skills for months, years, and enjoyed the respect of people, sometimes good money (or at least some of them did; more deserved it). Even those who would create forgeries of their work had to train for years to be able to do that. You will just render that effort useless, stupid, laughable. So why should anyone bother and waste their time, train for years, and yet beggar themselves with a worthless trade? The pool of talent will get smaller and skills will deteriorate so I wonder what would the AI feed upon then? Upon itself? Or will it just rehash endlessly what was created before this cursed decade?

And so, we're quickly getting to the poison point. If something is not done to limit it, AI will stop making those dumb mistakes it does now. You will no longer be able to identify it, discern it from human-made art, from real photos, videos. You will be able to not only create flawless masterpieces; you will render your own reality. Manipulating the masses will become even easier than it is right now.

And this is happening to art, you know, the thing that always had our backs and souls in time of crisis. Like the one that is already here. Instead of helping with the crisis, helping us to better lives, AI targets one of the last pillars of hope. One that should inspire us to imagine a better world.

When I saw an amazing piece of art, I used to feel admiration and inspiration, imagining the mind, talent, skill, effort, training, time, energy, emotion that went to it. The artwork itself was just the tip of the iceberg. Now, I squint at it like, AI or not? I will never trust a newcomer artist again. Digital art makes many things easier already, that can't be denied. Combined with AI, it will just make creating great artwork laughably easy. It can even mimic traditional art, so nothing is safe from it. Even if it IS an artist that has (and is willing to train and use) some skill, AI can make it so much easier for them. Soon, there will be no telling between a real artist and a total hack. I can look at the artwork and even like what I see, but guess I will never feel that genuine wonder, genuine emotion again. Maybe I'll only find those feelings in the galleries. I will only trust the artist of ye olde, before 2023, who I know could create those amazing things with their own skills. And same goes for writers, I assume. Luckily, there are tons of human-made writing I still haven't read, human-made art I haven't enjoyed. If I can't find something to entertain, I still can create something to entertain myself. I'll find and pick the herbs myself, dry them, make an infusion. But I know I won't have to resort to poison laced with theft.

tl;dr I'll never support something that ruins human motivation to create. Because that leaves us only the other human thing, which is the opposite.

#anti ai #artist musings #sorry for being dramatic #I'm not as passionate about it as it may look from this #but I'm not interested in AI art #I don't blame you if you play with it just keep it away from me... or ideally to yourself actually

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ultrabeast01symbiont · 8 months

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☆ Dragon/Bremusa ☆

✧ She/They/Mew ✧ Lesbian ✧ 23 (August 22nd) ✧

△ Art Blog △ AO3 Page △

Hiya! This is my personal blog. Most of what's on here is reblogs, with the occasional personal post sprinkled in. I've had this blog since around 2018 and I have not once changed my URL or icon, and I don't think I ever will. I like Nihilego.

You can find more about me under the cut, as well as (my attempts at a) tagging system!

Additional Info

Yes, I actively use two names! I use them interchangeably. Feel free to call me whichever one you like best.

I have both Autism and ADHD, as well as some unfun flavors of mental illness. While I am very open about my AuDHD, please do not be weird or invasive about my mental illness.

My hobbies include writing, drawing, RPing, playing video games, and taking naps.

I'm a resident appreciator of Tsumugi Shirogane (Danganronpa V3), Sara Chidouin (Your Turn to Die), Akane Kurashiki (Zero Escape), and Iris Sagan (AI: The Somnium Files). If you see posts with or relating to them, feel free to tag me!

I don't need tone indicators, but they're nice so long as you don't use unnecessary ones. /J, /S, and /LH are the only ones that I use, if at all.

I don't think that having a DNI list is all that helpful in curating your online space, so I don't have one. Instead, I block people that I don't want in my space if I see them. I'd rather bigots not engage with any of my content, but I doubt they'd listen to me, regardless...

Also, if I do block you, don't harass me trying to figure out why. 9 out of 10 times it's not personal, and the other 1 time will know exactly why I did already.

I don't give out my Discord publicly and I don't give it out to people I don't know. If you randomly ask for it, I'll block you.

I'm pretty fatigued most days and I don't always have the energy to vet the people I reblog from. A reblog is not equivalent to an endorsement of the original poster's views or anything. If you catch something weird, let me know and I'll look into it.

In general, just don't be invasive or aggressive and we'll be fine. :]

Tagging System

As of right now, only posts from 2023 onward are properly tagged. I'm very slowly working on tagging my entire blog, but... it'll take a while!

I don't tag spoilers in reblogged posts unless the media I'm reblogging is less than a month old. I tag spoilers in original content I post, though (such as memes I've made) so that people browsing the tags don't get jumpscared.

By the way, I try to tag triggering content as "(____) tw" or "(____) cw". This way, the Tumblr filtering system can catch it.

Common fandom tags:

#yttd ✰ #fate ✰ #dr ✰ #persona ✰ #genshin ✰ #ze ✰ #aitsf ✰ #hsr

Other tags:

#dragon.txt (personal posts)

#about me (posts that encapsulate my vibe)

#fave post (posts that i really like that don't fit into any other tag)

#my art (self-explanatory reblogs from my art account)

#cats (cats)

#i'm evil now (posts about villainy and treachery)

#stuck in the time loop (posts about time loops)

#yuriposting (posts about lesbian/wlw topics)

#ref (resources that i want to come back to)

#audhd moment (posts about autism, adhd, or both)

#writing related (posts about the writing and/or roleplaying experience)

#art related (posts about the artist experience)

#yeah (posts about more serious topics and statements that i agree with)

#best of (original posts of mine that have 100+ notes)

#dragon.txt #pinned post

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not-krys · 1 year

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Starvation (Houki, Abby, Maddie, Clara, Ophelia)

Happy new year, loves!

As a new years resolution this year, I decided that, no matter the state of done-ness, I would post at least one art thing and one writing thing per month.

Which means, I hope, that I'll be making more writing posts for this year. Most likely it'll lead to more wip wednesdays like this one, but, more writing is always a good thing.

For this one, I took a prompt from my 100 Prompts list and figured out ways that I could put it into writing. This theme was #79, Starvation.

Some entries took the prompt at face value (the character is hungry and so they search for food). Others follow a more vague and metaphorical sense, like touch-starvation. And others I just had the word inserted into it and not much other association with it.

Regular warnings apply: Raw, unedited writing, some are short and just stop right in the middle, some might be wander-y and ramble-y. Maybe some vague sense of spoilers, but nothing concrete.

My Masterlist!

------

Houki

"Lass." The tone behind her head didn't sound happy.

Houki turned around slowly, finding the tall frame of one Masamune Date right behind her, his single bright blue eye striking like lightning. His brows were furrowed, a frown in place where a toothy smirk usually was.

She was in trouble, she was realizing.

"Do you know what time it is?"

She took her eyes off the man for a brief moment, seeing the inky darkness outside, a tell tale sign it was at least the evening hours. Judging by the moon's position, it was quite late in the day.

Very late in the day indeed.

"…Very much past dinner time?" She tried.

"Yes." His stern tone could rival that of Hideyoshi, Houki was discovering.

"And you had promised that you would be present when dinner was served, right?"

She nodded, slowly. It was a common complaint from back home too, both from her mother and the castle servants, how she would skip meals if she had been distracted enough.

"I did."

"Dinner was over hours ago."

"And I don't have an excuse, either." A tired answer. "I was… reading. And lost track of time."

Masamune sighed, tying back his sleeves.

"Well, at least you aren't as bad as that companion of yours."

"…I can make something for myself, Lord Masamune."

"Nope, not happening." He replied, pulling a covered bowl towards him. "I don't know when it was you last ate today, but your stomach's bound to be growling up a storm by now."

Her stomach agreed with him, complaining for the whole castle to hear. Masamune laughed.

---------

Abby

The sound of paper crumpling and landing softly on the floor, while a familiar sound to Leonardo, the not so familiar sound following it awoke him from his midday nap, perking his ears at the sound of muffled frustration.

His little cara mia, really everyone's at this point, she had been trying to draw a vase she had found in the hallway for a good hour now, each time ending in with the paper rustling and torn. He was starting to get concerned as the pile beside the girl grew larger and larger.

Grumbling with effort as he stood up from his napping place on the floor, he entered the sunny room, saw the rather alarming pile of paper on the floor, and a head of blonde hair resting on her arms, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

With the liquid grace of a cat, he picked up one of the crumpled sheets, smoothing it out until he could see the many attempts at capturing the vase's likeness in front of the two of them. It reminded him of his time as a young art apprentice, ages upon ages ago. The telltale marks of a young hand trying to capture what they saw and transforming it, giving it life on a flat, unassuming surface. He smiled, caught up in his nostalgia.

After a moment, he lightly put a hand on the girl's shoulder, startling her.

"Pretty sure that Comte wouldn't care about the cost," he said, "but paper is still expensive, cara mia. Using the back is also a viable option, if you hate the front that much."

"It's… just frustrating," Abby said, her voice quivering. "I can't get it right."

"Get what right?"

"The drawing… it… I can't get it to look right."

"What seems to be the problem?"

Leonardo set the paper on the drawing board, smoothing it out as best he could without smudging the pencil, and pulled up a nearby short table to sit on. After a moment, he changed his position to her right side, so he could freely use his left hand.

"Everything looks so… stiff." Abby bit her lip.

"Well, it is a vase." Leonardo smiled. "Not like it's gonna suddenly jump in your lap like Lumiere would."

"You know what I mean… You and Vincent can make any drawing look so… effortless."

"Hmm…" Leonardo gently took her hand, tiny in his, and moved it across the page, taking her arm on a journey from one end to the other.

"Have you been taught how to draw with your shoulder before?"

"My shoulder?" Abby raised an eyebrow. "It'd be easier with your hand, wouldn't it?"

"You're worried about stiffness, yeah?" Leonardo said, moving her arm in the same motion. "You're so clenched up and tiny so much of the time, it reflects in your art too."

Abby watched as he guided her hand once again, making another long motion across the page.

"Try moving like this."

"But the vase..."

"Focus on loosening your arm up first. Make marks the way you like. Your hand and wrist will thank you in the long run."

He then released her hand, settling his in his lap. She bit her lip again, but turned back to her marks, unsteady at first, shaky and uneven, but she soon got the idea.

"It feels… weird. Doing it like this."

"With a little more practice, you'll be drawing much looser before you know it."

"Will this really help?"

"Well," Leonardo chuckled, "been doing this for the better part of 500 years. Hopefully I know what I'm doing at this point."

He didn't miss her ears turning pink through her hair.

"Other than just long lines, you can do circles too."

He took hold of her hand again, guiding her to make big, loose circles.

"It'll help you to get the lip of that vase right."

"…Thank you, Leonardo. For helping me."

"No need for thanks, cara mia," he smirked, "We're all here to help if you need it."

------

Maddie

The pounding rain against the window didn't bother Maddie that much, not really, but she still held Loki firmly to her side, cat-eared hood over his head. She held his head in her shoulder, taking special care to cover his ears.

After a few moments of silence, Maddie began humming to herself, hoping it could soothe Loki's frayed nerves.

"Hmmm, hmmm…. Rain, rain, go away~, come again some other day~"

Loki looked up at her, curious. Maddie smiled.

"Little Maddie wants to go out and play~, rain, rain go away~."

"What song was that?"

"My Gran taught it to me when I was little. It helped me to be patient when waiting out a rainstorm."

Loki huffed, a pout gracing his lips.

"I'm not a little kid," he said, his voice soft in his complaint.

"I know you aren't." Maddie said just as quietly, squeezing his shoulder. "But I was hoping it would pass the time."

"Kinda short for a waiting song though." Loki relaxed his head further into her shoulder.

"You keep going until the storm passes. That's what my Gran said."

"Did it work?"

"Sometimes," Maddie admitted with a laugh. "She'd hold onto me real tight and we'd sing it together as we watched the rain drops fall on the window."

--------

Clara

"I'm really sorry about all the trouble, miss," the man said as he devoured the soup and bread like a man starved for days. For all Clara knew, having only met the blond man hours ago in the rain, he probably was.

"Just don’t eat so fast you choke-" Her words, hearing that fateful cough, made her look up in alarm.

Just as quickly, however, he pounded on his chest, swallowed, then laughed sheepishly.

"It's really delicious, though! I would ask for more, but you should eat too."

He was right, as she only meant for her soup to be meant for one, herself. At least, that was the intention.

Thoughts about dinner aside, Clara stood up and inspected the young man's head again, checking for any signs of bruising or bumps.

"Miss?" he asked before wincing.

"Thought so, a big bump on your head. Something must've hit you pretty hard. Do you remember what it was, by chance?"

"…Maybe the ground? It was raining when we met. Could've slipped."

"…You don't remember though, do you?"

" 'Fraid not."

Clara sighed.

"In the morning, I'd like to take you to see a doctor. Hitting your head hard enough that you have amnesia can't be good for you."

The young man nodded, agreeing with her.

"Thank you for taking me in regardless, Miss."

"Clara…" she flushed lightly, "My name is Clara."

The man smiled. "That's a pretty name. It suits you, Clara."

----------

Ophelia

"It's not a luxurious life, not like the one you lived when you were with the Oda."

"That's fine," Ophelia said, a note of finality in her voice, "I like to think a harsh life suits me."

Kennyo sighed.

"If you are sure. I won't always be the kind man I once was."

"And I'm no naïve waif that can be pushed around anymore."

"This is your final warning."

"I don't need one. I'm coming with you."

"Nights will be long and cold. Days will be hot and blinding. Sometimes even food will be scarce."

"It won't be the first time I've gone hungry for days on end."

"Ophelia… please."

"Stop trying to turn me away." She reached out her hand, pale and already full of small scratches.

"I'm not going back to Nobunaga. I absolutely refuse. Even if you get the bright idea to drop me off in Kasugayama, or in Sakai with that god awful pirate and that… that merchant, I won't stop searching for you."

"Why," he asked. "Why are you so hellbent on following me? I can't provide for you, I can't give you the life you deserve."

"What life do I deserve, Kousa?"

"One where you deserve to be happy. Cared for. Loved."

"And yet, the only one that has loved me, even remotely, was a demon of his own making!"

"Your family cared for you."

"As much as a mosquito needs blood to survive. I wouldn't even doubt they think I jumped ship and died at sea by now."

He turned to face her, his brow furrowed deeply, his eyes dark.

"Leave. Now."

"Why." It wasn't a question. It was a demand.

"Because you're going to get yourself hurt if you stay with me."

"You think I haven't been hurt before? By lesser men and women? By my own blood? My country? Think again if you think you can hurt me any more than anyone else has."

#krys's adventures in fanfiction #wip wednesday #krys's babies #houki of jiyel #abigail clarke (oc)#madeline fleming (oc)#clara laurent (oc)#ophelia of revaire #ikeseries ocs #ikemen sengoku #masamune date #kennyo #ikemen vampire #leonardo da vinci (ikevamp)#ikemen revolution #loki genetta #ikemen prince #rio ortiz #as a short cut #and mini spoilers for the rest #houki got literal starvation #abby's was artistic starvation as she wanted to be an artist but was never allowed to growing up #maddie's is helping Loki with a passing storm #with some touch starved (implied) explored #Clara and Rio when they first met and he's hungry #and Ophelia putting her foot down on staying with Kennyo #with a brief mention of the word starvation #this was a fun lil exercise #some entries conveying the idea more than others #maybe if they do become full stories some day

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mpregbts · 2 years

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I think I might make a few posts venting about my carpal & cubital tunnel syndrome on this blog. I will tag it "carpal tunnel" and "cubital tunnel" if you'd like to block it! It's more for me organizing my thoughts than anything else. Anyway, I'll start under the cut.

I have carpal tunnel, but it's pretty minor. My primary issue is cubital tunnel, which is very similar but is in the elbow instead of the wrist.

It started around freshman year of high school, ~5+ years from today, with very minor pain when holding my phone. It felt like my phone was bruising the middle of my forefinger when I typed for too long, and my thumb joints would feel uncomfortable.

About a year later is when I noticed the next escalation. I was having pain when I played my oboe. I talked with my teacher about it after months of ignoring it and she recommended some ways I could shift my hand position. They felt better in the short-term, but because it engaged muscles that were weak, it would hurt more after what I considered extended practice. For me, because I was a sort of unmotivated student, "extended practice" meant anything approaching an hour.

My hands were hurting when I wrote for too long, but that's true of everybody. It's just, the "too long" was getting shorter and shorter, but I wasn't noticing the change.

By junior year, I sort of figured I had carpal tunnel. What clued me in was just how painful it was to play video games or use my phone. And it only got worse from there.

I began regularly complaining to my teacher about how painful it was to play oboe. It got to the point where I could only play for ten minutes at a time. If I was lucky, I could squeeze 30 before my hands would begin shaking under the pain. I stopped being able to take my reeds in and out of my oboe by myself, so I started using my teeth, which my teacher hated. Both of us thought I just wasn't doing it right; I can't possibly be that weak. In retrospect, I can see that my grip strength was failing.

Freshman year of college, I tried to minor in music. That didn't work out, mostly because I found that I wasn't actually that passionate about the oboe. It was also because my professor sort of refused to believe me when I said I had carpal tunnel that was interfering with my play. She explained that many musicians play their entire lives, way more than I do, and they never develop it until they're far older. She said that, as a musician, claiming to have carpal tunnel was extremely serious and career ruining.

I still found oboe fun, though, and wanted to continue it as a hobby. I have never touched it since the performance final for that class. Even though I did like it and had fun with it, I associate it with pain. Where I am now, I can't imagine picking it up and playing a scale. I legitimately don't think I would be able to play it for more than a few minutes, if at all.

My other hobbies include drawing and bullet journaling. I may get into it in another post, but bullet journalling especially was VERY important to my lifestyle. During my first semesters of college, I stopped because my classes were too overwhelming to do either. Yet I found that, when things cooled down, and I tried to pick them back up, I couldn't.

The pain is the obvious issue. Holding the apple pencil is painful, let alone trying to control it on a slippery glass surface. At the same time, with bullet journalling, the friction and resistance of the paper against pen or pencil required too much force for my hands to produce easily.

The less obvious issue is accuracy. I couldn't draw or write with any accuracy without gripping the pen extremely tightly and going very slowly. Nowadays, my hands just sort of... move? God, this is THE thing that frustrates me the most regularly. Trying to fucking type on my phone. First of all, my phone is rather heavy and it HURTS to hold. Not just for a long time, I mean it hurts to hold AT ALL. But more frustratingly, my typing accuracy is horrendous now. I have to type, legitimately, every three words over again, at least once. Imagine that. Imagine every text you send out, having to retype 1/3 of it. AT LEAST. At the end of a bad pain day, it can be as much as every other word or EVERY WORD. I'm serious. It makes me want to cry.

I rely on autocorrect to get me through this issue. Without it, I really don't know what I would have done. I'd probably use voice-to-text exclusively. Autocorrect really doesn't cover that much, though? And it's rather inaccurate and can actually make things worse. I used to pride myself on typing well and using good syntax (I never really cared whether other people did, it was just a personal standard), but. When your phone corrects every single "its" to "it's", regardless of context, even if you had to already retype it 3 times because your thumb kept spasming and hitting the j key, and now you have to retype it AGAIN, and you're just staring at the screen wondering why you even bother. Grammar stops mattering as much.

Yknow, I don't respond to people sometimes. Sometimes my girlfriend texts me and I have a lengthy response I wanna give and I just don't because what's the point. Why would I type out how my day went in detail, bring us closer as partners and share that aspect of myself, when it hurts so goddamn bad. And it takes forever. Because I can't type with any speed or accuracy anymore.

And, okay. I loved to take physical notes. Things stick better in my brain if I physically write them. But that's too painful now. So I do everything on OneNote. Except I'm a fucking engineering major!!! I know all the shortcuts in Office's equation editor, I can type equations FAST, but it's just not feasible to keep up with the professor when lowercase rho is one flick of the wrist for him and 4 keystrokes for me. So now I just focus on getting things typed so I can't even LISTEN to the explanations because I'm 3 slides behind and surely it's online somewhere.

Calculus 1-3 had written exams. We had about an hour fifteen. I always get done with exams rather early & go back and check them thoroughly. I tend to make really stupid mistakes with math and it usually saves me a good 5 points if I check my work, cuz I can be really sloppy. But I found that I was having to take WAY more time every problem simply writing it legibly. I have to go soooo slowly so that my hand doesn't collapse under its own weight. In my head, I was so bored, because I knew the next 4 steps, and I could have been DONE already if I could just write up to a normal speed! I almost never had time to check my work. I worked up to the last five minutes nearly every exam.

In case you're curious, I have been to a hand specialist. My city has an internationally renowned hand clinic that I've seen and they were fantastic, to be sure. For a variety of reasons though, I haven't been able to properly keep up with treatment. To keep it brief, and maybe I'll explain more later, here's the main treatments:

Surgery. This is what I want desperately. However, for cubital tunnel, recovery can be anywhere from two weeks to several months. My major doesn't give me summers off. I do 3 semesters a year with two to four week breaks in between. Sure, I might be able to squeeze in a surgery if I HAPPEN to be able to get a date EXACTLY at the beginning of a break (at a clinic that people TRAVEL HERE to get in with), but what if I need more recovery time. What if I need to pursue physical therapy to get back the ability to write. If I fall behind I'm going to lose my scholarship. So? Okay? Guess I'll just wait until after I've graduated. In slightly less than three years, not counting my masters program.

Steroid shots. I have trauma surrounding needles and now have a phobia that I've gotten under control via therapy. I can get vaccines now without sobbing and all that. According to my dad, who got them for the same condition I did, they were extremely painful and did not help very much. I KNOW that statistically MOST people find them very helpful and it eases symptoms but. I am really scared about triggering my phobia and having to redo therapy for it. If I have a bad experience with needles I don't think I'll be able to do it again without therapy. It'd suck to lose this progress.

Physical therapy. I actually did do this and it worked very well. Between my stretches, exercises, and heat therapy, my symptoms had become...not manageable, but WAY less bad. It really did work. But people who have gone through physical therapy will understand... once my therapist said I was good to stop seeing her because she had taught me everything she could... I just. Didn't keep up with the exercises. They take like 15 minutes and you need to do them 2-3 times a day. It's really not that bad and definitely worth the effort but like... I dunno. It's weird. I just. Can't get myself to stay on top of them at the end of an exhausting day.

Okay, that's all for now. I need to go to bed, and my joints are swollen from typing this lol. If you read this far, thanks for hearing me out!

#carpal tunnel #cubital tunnel #gen speaks #ulnar nerve entrapment #chronic pain #medical tw #needle mention

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fadebolt · 3 months

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There's been a boatload of talk about negative stuff in my Tumblr circles, so it's time to do some random rambling about the awesome stuff that's been happening recently, cus this is my space, and I came to this website for escapism and happiness, goddamnit!

So, art month's been going pretty dang well so far. Of course, I'm still not an expert, and I'm not getting an enormous amount of notes or anything, but I'm definitely improving and climbing up, slowly but surely (and the fact that I could get even just a few people to care enough click the buttons feels incredible... maybe I should do more ships and power swapped scugs in the future?). Exams will probably start coming up in the second half of the month, and I may have to skip or delay lots of days then, but I still have plenty of time until that happens (yes, I know I didn't do 4 yet, but I assure you - that had nothing to do with the drama that was happening, I was just tired as hell, and so I couldn't draw too much xd).

Some other games I've been following have also got some good news - like for instance, there's this custom campaign series in Warcraft 3 called 'Warcraft 3 Alternate', which are the vanilla campaigns, just races and factions all being swapped around, with a bunch of extra new features, systems, units, heroes, and other additions too. And couple days ago, it's fifth campaign was released, which I really enjoyed watching on YouTube, since this is the point in the story where all the main factions pop up, but they're all swapped around now, so the situation is kind of a mess. Oh, and this partially inspired fire Rivulet too, so there's some neat trivia I guess.

And League of Legends - while is not getting the Arena back, that me and my dad had such a blast with - is getting updated bots, which is very much a big deal for me, cus I used to constantly 1v5 them, as a way to enjoy all the awesome and fun characters from the game, without having to potentially put up with douchebags the matchmaking might throw at me. And if I have time, I'll most definitely want to test of these new ones will be 1v5-able, and if so, which champions could pull it off?

Now, back on track to the Rain game - I've been really loving all the amazing pieces my dear friends and mutuals and acquaintances and other lovely folks have been making for the art month! Their skills and creativity is nothing short of impressive. However, I've been running into a bit of a dilemma, where I'm often thinking about liking or reblogging something, but then my brain goes "Hey, what about all the other stuff that you aren't reblogging or liking, even though they would clearly deserve it? Wouldn't it be unfair if you boosted this, but not those?" and it kind of makes me not want to press the buttons, even if the post might actually deserve them.

Does anybody else have this experience, or am I just going crazy here? There's probably some sort of solution here, and I hope I'll eventually figure it out, cus y'know, it's probably also unfair to not like or reblog people's stuff, while still hoping that they would do it to me. It just feels a lil dirty, and I'm really trying to figure out how to make myself stop.

... yeah, I know this was meant to be about only positivivty, but I wanted to mention that little pet peeve of mine. I don't really feel like it would b justified to create a Disord chatroom just for this, y'know.

#fade rambes

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t3aperson · 11 months

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what has been going on?

well this is what

Recently I've been having mental breakdowns on twitter, some of them are crazy while others are not as crazy, I'll be starting at the start of time for t3a, well idk I SHOULD JUST START I made my channel in 2020 funny enough by accident. I was messing around and made a channel on youtube, I didn't use it until november of 2020 where I uploaded a (really bad and cringe af) animation, I wanted to become an animator before I realized was writing was my passion. My first "viral" (well viral for me) was a video for jacksfilms 48 hour film festival. It was cringe, bad, and sweaty, but I liked it, i was proud, the first time I felt happy in a while. The t3a beefing era, rule 34, and my character. (2021-2022) In 2021 I just got pissed off. I had a lot of people who started to hate me, my mental health had slowly been declining I took my anger out on random people. I got in fights over the smallest of things. "You disagreed with me? Well you're an idiot, stupid a bastard, a lie, a cheat" and it just happened that someone thought it would be really funny to tell someone to draw rule 34 of my channel's mascot, cause you ya know, that's what normal people do I guess. It was always shoved in my face "t3a i didn't know you were that good at (you can guess)" and it started to tick me off, each time I was told about the image I wanted to go crazy. "peel off my skin" kind of anger. I've never been into r34, and i kept getting sent it. "You had rule34? Just send it to t3a!" I had to cope, so I made a character. I made a character that was an idiotic, egotistical, rude, creepy and disgusting jerk, and the issue was that I was playing a character with the same name "t3a the person" was NOT "t3a the character" but I found out that being a jerk gives you views and attention, I have never cared about subscribers, comments, ratings, or any of that. I only cared about views, and I figured out that people liked watching me be an asshole and say some messed up shit. I enjoyed the attention, my mental health got worse but I learnt over time how to hide thoughts and it felt amazing knowing that I can just pretend I'm fine. I could pretend that everything is fine, but I wasn't fine. I was sad, I was faking being happy and I learnt how to hide my thoughts, my feelings, for 3 YEARS, so I quit. I quit youtube, I deleted my discord accounts, I deleted my twitter. all traces for me had been removed. I just vanished. Summer Break. (Feb 2022 to Nov 2022) After I went away I made friends, but I hated seeing myself. I would go to parks or hang out with my friends but I would never let them take photos of me or record me. Well my lower body sure but if it had my face I would get pissed off. I stopped or well tried to avoid all mirrors. but in November I forced myself to stare at myself, I broke down. I had lied to myself for almost 3 years and I just couldn't, I cried so hard I got lightheaded and passed out. I was done playing a character. I wanted to return and do what I enjoy. what just happened to be YTPs Return to Social Media, and learning how to give up (2022 - Current)

November 2022, I returned to youtube after 7 months. My twitter, discord accounts, and other social media were deleted. I had to rebuild, I have to straight up "rediscover" my online friends like goddamn dora, I was ready to restart, the issue was that this whole time my mental health never went up. It kept going down, the more I did youtube, the less I noticed it, but it was there and it watched me cause I'm a fool, then I made a new twitter account. So I could try to find more people that I had either screwed over, or I used to be friends with, etc I wanted to say sorry to everyone but I forgot that the past came back, the person who made the other person draw rule 34 starting to fight me, and their "lil friends" With a destroyed mental health, I started to go crazy, I lost my mind, and, I just exploded. I started to spam on twitter about that "everyone hates me" or "everyone is about to get you" and it was stupid. The thing was. It felt like I was getting something out of my head, just not in a good way. I was done, I was full of self-loafing and hatred I had to blame it on everyone around me, after all it "couldn't be my fault" I told myself (lemme give you a hint it was), and so that way I could just live a happy life right? No. I have to move on, sorry for this crap. I should of shut up years ago - t3a TLDR: don't fight kids online and if you have bad mental health find a therapist asap.

#masterpost #apology #t3a #t3aperson

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skiller0dani · 3 years

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Old Prison Blues | Spencer Reid

M A S T E R L I S T Criminal Minds Masterlist

smut | dom!spencer x bau!reader requests info w.c | 7.2k summary | when your husband Spencer gets released from Prison, he's much different then you remember.

I have it so bad for this man, enjoy! Also guys this piece made butterflies squirm in my belly lmao this one is so HOT it made me blush. Guys, it made me B L U S H. I need to go dunk myself in holy water to atone for this SIN. (just kidding lmao I'm agnostic).

you can see his bulge in this gif and I can't stop admiring looking at it.

When you were in college you'd been an undergraduate in Criminal Justice, so you were familiar with the effects Prison has on the psyche. In other words, you knew Spencer would come back different. No person could pass through Prison unscathed and frankly you'd be more concerned if he came back and nothing had changed at all. At home, he seemed to be relatively okay, and those 6 mandatory weeks of break had allowed him the rest he deserved. Nothing exciting had happened during those weeks, the only thing you did was curl up on the couch next to him and watch movies. You'd made up for all those weeks in Prison during the evenings when you would cling to him and cry out his name in ecstasy.

Spencer really did seem to be fine, until you returned to work. That's when you started to see all the ways Prison had hardened him.

At first, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. If you were someone who knew Spencer well then you knew that he wasn't a man who was confident in his looks. When you and Spencer first got married he was insecure, and would be discouraged when you hung out with other guys. You wouldn't say he was jealous because jealously in itself requires a certain amount of anger. But when Spencer saw you around other men he wasn't angry, he was sad. Absolutely convinced you were going to leave him any second, despite you telling him you married him because you love him. Deep down, he always thought somebody would steal you from him even though you consistently reminded him how much you love him. That's just the kind of guy Spencer is.

Or, was.

The darkness that brews in Prison, the violent hatred, the anger seems to have followed Spencer to freedom. It has made a home in his chest, and while you're not worried about Spencer flying off the deep end and shooting an innocent, the anger reveals itself in much more subtle ways. It's in the way he clenches his jaw when he can't figure something out, or the blanching of his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel with a crushing force, it's the agitation in his eyes when he watches Alvez's knuckles brush against your lower back for the 3rd time since you two had arrived at the office this morning. The anger has adapted to civilian life like Spencer has, it's learned. It's subtle. Unfortunately you know Spencer almost better then he knows himself, you can tell when something is bothering him.

You slide your hands over his shoulders, and much to your surprise you feel him tense.

"You okay?" You know it's a stupid question, but you have to ask.

"Yeah, fine." Spencer's tone is clipped, shoulders rigid, back straight. Something is definitely bothering him. You squeeze his shoulders and begin to work at the tightened muscles, slowly easing them to relax. The tension flows out of him as he relaxes back in his desk chair, the frustration ebbing away slightly when his eyes catch your wedding ring. The object that binds you to him.

"Don't shut me out." You whisper, a soft plea in your voice. Spencer's heart wretches when he hears the fear in your tone, and one of his hands comes up to catch yours. He presses a chaste kiss to one of your knuckles before swiveling around to face you. You always find a way to soothe the violent, raging beast inside of him. Spencer's hands find your hips as he turns his gaze up to look at you.

"You're right I'm sorry. Just tense today." He says softly, and while there is a little lie to his words, his statement remains mostly the truth. He just leaves out the part where he pictures enacting varying forms of violence on Luke Alvez. The man who keeps unnecessarily touching his wife. You lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, your head snapping up when Garcia calls from the conference room.

"Got a case folks, and it's an ugly one." Her nose scrunches up into a frown before she turns into the room. You pull away from Spencer, yanking him to his feet by his hand. Luke sends you a playful wink as he trots up the stairs, and while you don't necessarily react to it, it still puts Spencer on edge. Deep down Spencer always knew you were way out of his league, but that never became clearer then when you came to visit him in Prison.

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You were trembling as you lowered yourself into the chair. Dried tears were on your cheeks, and you haven't even seen Spencer yet. The last time you saw him was a few weeks prior after he first got back from Mexico. Seeing his wrists bound in those metal handcuffs had broken your heart in a way you never anticipated. You wrung your hands together, luckily when Penelope had made the visitation Chart she scheduled you as the first person to come see him. The plastic chair was uncomfortable, but what was worse was the plastic guard separating you from Spencer. The clock ticked loudly, it was clearly mocking you. Reminding you of the seconds you were losing with Spencer, reminding you of all the seconds he was spending in Prison.

When you hear the buzzer scream loudly, you nearly come out of your seat you're so excited to see him. You and Spencer got married back in 2005, and you've never been separated from him for longer then a week. It's been over a month now, and each day he's not with you leaves a bigger hole in your chest. You watch him follow the other prisoners out, and the handcuffs around his wrists breaks your heart. His eyes light up the second he sees you, he nearly shoves the other guy over to get to you faster. There are tears in your eyes as Spencer's wrists are released from the cuffs from the guard standing nearby.

"Hey baby." Spencer says softly as he takes his seat across from you. All you want is to reach across the stupid barrier and touch him, hold his hand, anything. But you know the guards will punish him if he does, but being this close to him without being able to hold him is absolutely killing you. You try to blink the tears out of your eyes so that Spencer won't see, but it's all too much. Seeing him in a jumpsuit, with cuff bruises around his wrists, having to sleep in the same building as murderers. The first tear falls and you immediately look away from him.

"Please don't cry." Spencer begs softly. "I'm okay, really."

You wipe your tears before you look back up at him, digging around in your bag for a gift from Henry. You smile when you see the happiness cross onto his face as you pull the piece of paper out.

"Henry drew this for you, it's from when you guys went to the park." You hold it up for him to see and you try to fight another onslaught of tears when you see his eyes misting.

"You know, when I get out of here we should have one." Spencer says it so casually, you almost miss it. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you carefully lower the drawing.

"You want to try for a baby?" You can't hide the smile, and you see Spencer's eyes shine for the first time since he's been in here.

"Yeah, I want to have a baby with you." You and Spencer had a brief conversation about kids a few years ago, and you knew Spencer wasn't ready for it back then. His Father ran out on him and Diana when Spencer was just a kid, it made Spencer insecure about the type of Father he would end up being. In Spencer's mind, a fatherless man would never make a good Father. But it seems he's changed his mind. You had no issues agreeing to wait before you had kids until he was ready, you always knew Spencer would be a fantastic Father.

Suddenly from Spencer's right you hear a low wolf whistle. The tenderness that was on Spencer's face is instantly wiped away. His expression tenses, his jaw clenching as he turns his gaze to a large burly looking man covered in tattoos. The man sitting across from him, the one who was visiting, looked similar. Both of the biker looking men were eyeing me hungrily, it made my skin crawl.

"Something I can help you with?" Spencer asks, his voice tense. The tension in the room grows tenfold, and you fight the instinct to try and scoot closer to Spencer. The Biker looks Spencer in the eyes, a taunting smile on his face.

"That your sister?"

"Wife." Spencer snaps instantly.

"Your wife?" The Biker says incrediously, Spencer raises a brow, daring him to continue. "There's no way a woman with an ass that tight would marry a man as scrawny as you."

You expected to see insecurity flash in Spencer's eyes, instead all you saw was rage. Unbridled, violent rage.

"Choose your next words carefully." Spencer's voice was low, and as sharp as the edge of a blade. You almost didn't recognize him. The Biker leaned forward, fueled only by the knowledge that he was getting under Spencer's skin.

"She as tight as she looks? If I wasn't locked up, I'd fuck her so good she wouldn't even remember what your little pecker feels like."

Spencer's jaw clenches, and his fists curl tightly. The Biker is about 2 words away from a broken nose.

"Baby just let it go." You plead, and normally you don't really use pet names in public but right now you needed to show him that you're his.

"I'll tell you what Klein, I'll fuck her for you and tell you how it felt." The other man says, the man visiting. Upon hearing the words come out of his mouth, Spencer is shoving up from the chair but almost instantly a guard is tightly gripping Spencer's shirt and shoving him back into the chair. Spencer is fuming, and there's nothing you can do to calm him down.

"If you so much as lay a finger on her, your friend here will be dead before you can have another visit." Spencer hisses, and the two large men chuckle.

Spencer instantly took you off the visitors list, and while that felt like a blow to your heart you understood why. You didn't want to stress him out by visiting him.

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So, yeah, Spencer knew you were out of his league and when Luke pulled your chair out for you at the table before he had the chance to, it made his blood boil. Why is Luke trying to take care of you? Doesn't he know that Spencer has been released from Prison? You don't need anybody else to take care of you, your husband is more than capable of doing it himself. When Spencer sat down in the chair next to you, he rested one hand on your thigh. You're only slightly surprised, normally Spencer isn't this 'handsy' in public, but in recent weeks he's been more assertive around other men.

"The body of 23 year old Cassandra Richardson was found 2 weeks ago in Lincoln, Nebraska. Her body was mutilated and showed signs of sexual assault. Yesterday another body, 20 year old Francesca Williams was found around the same warehouse district with similar wounds to the first victim." Penelope rushes the words out, almost as though saying them pains her. Various images show on the screen of the two victims, both bloodied and battered.

"Other than similar injuries, what makes the local police think it's the same unsub?" Luke asks, his eyes flickering towards you for the briefest second. While Spencer was locked away, Luke became a shoulder to cry on. Normally when you were upset and Spencer wasn't around, you'd talk to Derek. But since he's been gone you've felt more isolated then you normally do. Luke had found you crying one morning before you had taken off, and ever since he's had an "older brother" protection over you.

"A tattoo on both of the victims thighs, the words 'temerata virginem' which is Latin for 'desecrated virgin'." With the click of a button on her remote, Penelope pulls up a photo of the tattoos. The lines are shaky, although they stay mostly straight.

"It almost looks professional, except the lines aren't perfectly straight. A professional would make the line work perfect." JJ says, examining the photo closer in the folder each of you received. You turn your gaze to Spencer when you feel his hand leave your thigh to examine the photo closer. You could practically see the gears turning in that beautiful mind of his.

"It's possible an outside source is causing a tremble in the unsubs hands, if he is a professional tattoo artist." Spencer mumbles, almost to himself. Sometimes when he's in deep concentration, he nearly forgets other people are in the room with him.

"Could be drugs-" Luke starts but is sharply cut off.

"Actually it's more likely to be alcohol, withdraw from other drugs would be too severe to operate the tattoo machine." Spencer snaps, causing a few heads to turn and look at him. Maybe under other circumstances someone would say something to him, but since Spencer got released from Prison only a few weeks ago, nobody says anything. Luke's eyebrows furrow together as he shoots Spencer a confused look, one Spencer chooses to ignore as his hand returns to your thigh. Spencer knows he's acting like a jerk but he can't help it, Luke needs to know who you belong to. Spencer had everything taken from him in Prison, he won't let anyone take you from him too.

"We've been personally asked by the local police to assist, so wheels up in 30." Emily concludes, shooting one more look at Spencer before everybody rises.

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The tension on the jet is thick, you're absolutely sure everybody can feel it. Hardly anyone has interacted with Spencer, except to ask him a question about the case. You sit back against the couch, Luke sitting in one of the chairs at the table, and Spencer sitting on the arm of the chair next to you. In your hand was a nearly empty cup of coffee, and just as you move to refill, Luke rises with his own empty cup.

"Need a refill?" He asks, offering you a friendly smile.

"Yeah actually-"

"I got it." Spencer says abruptly, standing from where he was sitting. His eyes meet Luke's, silently challenging him. You try to be understanding, but you can't help but feel annoyed at Spencer. If he was acting like this to some random guy then that's one thing, but this is Luke. He's your friend, he's Spencer's friend. Luke, and the rest of the team, put everything on the line to free Spencer from Prison.

"It's cool man, I can do it-" Luke offers again, but Spencer isn't having it.

"I said I got it." Spencer reaches his hand out for your mug, which you instantly give to him. His eyes don't leave Luke's until he turns around and heads to the back of the jet to refill your coffee. Luke pauses for a few seconds, his eyes meeting yours and mirroring the same look of concern before he heads for the coffee pot as well. Luke isn't even upset by how Spencer is treating him, he- like everyone else, is worried about Spencer's psyche.

"What is going on with Spencer?" JJ whispers once she's sure Spencer is out of earshot. You shrug, your worried eyes landing on your husband. His posture is tense, almost defensive.

"Well can you blame him? In Prison, everything that's yours can and will be stolen by the other male inmates. Now that he's free, Spencer is being protective of his wife, someone that is his and can be taken by other men." Rossi says, always naturally a tad protective of Spencer.

"There isn't a man on this planet that would make me leave Spencer." You say defensively, although you know Rossi didn't mean anything by what he said.

"That might be obvious to you, but not to Spencer." JJ says, eyeing Spencer standing back near the coffee machine.

"Doing okay man?" Luke asks hesitantly as he moves to stand next to Spencer.

"Yep." Spencer says shortly, waiting for the pot to brew. Luke feels the tension rolling off Spencer in waves, and it's all being directed at him and he's not sure why.

"Look, if I've done something to upset you, just talk to me about it Reid." Luke's voice is gentle, understanding. Spencer's jaw clenches again as the pot finishes brewing and he refreshes your cup before reaching for the creamer.

"I'm fine Alvez. Really." Spencer says again, but Luke isn't willing to let this go yet.

"No Reid, you're not-"

"Stop flirting with my wife." Spencer's tone is firm, and the look in his eyes tells Luke just how on edge Spencer is.

"You got it." Luke agrees instantly, even though he was never flirting with you. But he knows that right now arguing with Spencer will only make things worse. Seemingly satisfied with Luke's answer, Spencer carries your cup back you, slinging an arm around you.

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Spencer twists his wedding ring around his ring finger, something he does when he's stressed out or tense. You're currently sat in the interrogation room with the male suspect, a tattoo artist attending AA meetings, the tattoo on the first victim was the shakiest because he had just quit drinking. The other, more recent, victims tattoo's were more steady. The longer he stayed sober, the more his trembling faded. In Spencer's other palm is your wedding ring, you fit the physical preference of this killer perfectly, but he only went after single women. Emily thought sending somebody in fitting his victimology would throw him off enough to say something incriminating. In order for the rouse to work, you needed to appear single- meaning the wedding ring had to come off. The thought didn't settle well in Spencer's gut.

"You have to relax." JJ said suddenly from Spencer's right. He nearly ignored her but his frayed nerves were beginning to eat at him.

"I can't. Do you see the way he's looking at her?" Spencer was pacing back and forth in front of the one way glass like a caged animal, unable to take his eyes off of the train wreck happening in front of him.

"She can handle herself Spence." JJ insists gently, almost using a motherly tone to talk to him.

"She's mine!" And suddenly the crux of the issue comes to light, and Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose, releasing a heavy breath. JJ thinks about her words carefully, trying to find something to say that will calm him at least a little.

"Yeah, and nothing is going to change that Spencer. You need to relax, and you have to trust her. You're not in Prison anymore, nobody is going to take her from you." JJ says, looking him in the eyes. Suddenly the sound of metal screeching across a concrete floor sounds from behind Spencer and when he turns around, his blood boils hot in his veins. The suspect, Alan Baker, has shoved out of his chair and has started towards you.

"Spencer-" JJ's voice is distant, and comes too late. Spencer isn't listening to her anymore when his fist curls around the door handle and he nearly rips it off its hinges.

"You need to step back." Spencer snaps, reaching for his gun as Alan Baker backs you into the corner of the interrogation room. You weren't ever truly afraid, you could have handled Alan. Slowly, Alan backs away from you and Spencer instantly reaches for you. He leads you out of the room with a gentle but firm hand on your back. Once you're out of the interrogation room you turn to Spencer.

"What the hell? I could have dealt with him!" You insist, frustration laced in your tone. At this point JJ silently slips out of the room, giving you and Spencer some much needed privacy. Spencer crosses his arms as he leans back against the one way mirror.

"You didn't need to, I did." Spencer huffs and you seriously resist the urge to throw something at him.

"What is your problem today? You could have compromised my entire interrogation, he's never going to tell me anything now!" You snap, anger pinching at your features.

"Good! Now you have no reason to talk to him again." Spencer snaps back, can't you see that he's just protecting what's his?

"Spencer we're trying to save somebody! You're being selfish!" You say to him angrily, trying your best not to start yelling at him. Spencer's selfish possessiveness over you could have just ruined your entire investigation.

"This is why the Bureau was hesitant to reinstate you. They were scared you wouldn't be able to control yourself." You snap at him, crossing your arms.

"Are you saying they made a mistake?" Spencer asks incrediously, suddenly becoming defensive.

"Maybe they did. Because you're acting like an asshole right now. You've been a jerk to Luke the entire day when he busted his ass to help get you out of Prison and back to me! Since when have you not trusted me during an interrogation? What did you think was going to happen? That I was going to let him touch me? I thought you trusted me." You cry out, tears filling your eyes now. Spencer didn't say anything as you turned for the door, anger still laced in his features.

"This has nothing to do with me not trusting you-"

"If you don't trust me, then maybe you should just hold onto my wedding ring for a while. I don't want it." You snap quietly, and you regret the words the second they leave your lips. No matter how mad he makes you, you'd never leave Spencer. You watch Spencer's expression shift from anger to...hurt. He watches silently as you slam the door behind you. Prison has turned him into somebody he isn't, and Spencer doesn't know how to turn off this part of his brain. The part telling him that you belong to him, and that he needs to protect what's his.

Rossi catches the sight of your tear stained cheeks as you move back towards the kitchen in the precinct. You wipe your tears as he comes to stand beside you, and the look on his face tells you that he overheard your fight with Spencer. Rossi bumps you with his elbow gently, a small smile on his face.

"You don't look okay." He says softly and you let out a self-depreciating laugh.

"I'm not. I don't know how to help Spencer, he doesn't trust me." You say sadly, your heart breaking in your chest.

"It's not you he doesn't trust, it's other men." Rossi clarifies, although it does little to ease the pain. You reach up to brush your hair behind your ear when Rossi catches your hand, examining your ring finger.

"Where's your wedding ring?"

"Told Spencer I didn't want it." The words are laced with heavy regret, and when you remember the look on his face when you said it you almost start to cry again. Rossi wraps an arm around you, and you lean your head on his shoulder.

"Deep down, he knows you didn't mean it." He tries to reassure you.

"That's the problem, he probably thinks I meant it."

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Normally it only takes you and Spencer a few hours to smooth things over after a fight. But this time, it's been nearly 3 hours and you haven't spoken a word to each other. You're both working on searching through Alan Baker's financial records without speaking at all. Neither of you have said anything, and Spencer still has your wedding ring. You desperately want it back, but you don't know how to start that conversation. You're angry about how he's been treating everybody, and you feel like asking for your ring is accepting defeat. You're not ready to accept defeat. When Emily comes into the room, her eyes settle on the two of you.

"Okay, what's going on with you guys?" Her arms are crossed.

"Nothing." The word comes from both yours and Spencer's mouths at the same time, and you say it far too quickly. Emily raises one brow at the two of you before closing the door behind her.

"Alright I'm going to have to be a boss now. We are not going to lock this guy away if the two of you are fighting. We need everybody on their A-game. Fix it. Now, and I mean right now." She says, leaving the room but closing the door behind her. There's a suffocating silence that fills the room, both you and Spencer too stubborn to speak first. But you can't take it, you hate it when he's mad at you. You hate it when you guys fight, which isn't often but it does happen occasionally.

"I didn't mean it." You whisper, leaning on the table, facing away from him. Spencer doesn't say anything but you know he's listening.

"I didn't mean it Spencer, I want my ring." He'd be lying if he said he wasn't relieved to hear you say that, his entire world crashed down around him the second you told him to keep the ring. The irrational part of his brain told him you were going to divorce him.

"Can I please have it back?" You ask, barely turning your head to look at him. With a huff Spencer pushes away from the table to move in front of you. His eyes are focused on your hand, he has yet to look at you. Spencer fishes around in his pocket before he finds your ring and gently slides it onto your ring finger.

"You have to stop glaring at any man that gets to close to me, especially Luke." You tell him, but he continues to look away from you. Spencer pushes past you to stand near the windows, his back facing you. The thing about Spencer is that he's stubborn, really stubborn. You take a few steps towards him, nibbling on your lower lip.

"I love you Spencer, I'm sorry. I was an ass, but you acted like an ass too." You tell him, but Spencer only turns his head further away from you. You move to stand in front of him, but his eyes turn to the ground and his arms are crossed tightly. Seriously?

"Please talk to me Spencer, tell me what's going on." You can see the frustration laced in his features, there's something on the tip of his tongue that he needs to say.

"Spencer."

"After you left from your visit, do you know why I didn't let you come back?" Spencer snaps, his hands finding your shoulders to yank your body against his. Your chest collides with his and suddenly you feel a dampness building between your legs. You instantly turn to putty in his hands.

"I didn't let you come back because that asshole told everybody about you. Told everybody what a tight little body you have. Soon the entire cell block was fantasizing about my 'sexy wife'. Do you have any idea what it's like to listen to men constantly talk about fucking your wife?" Spencer's voice is tense, but you can see it. The lust building behind his eyes, the frustration, and the fear of losing you simmering underneath it all.

"N-No." Your voice is breathy, and your eyes are lidded as Spencer's hands slide up your arms to your shoulders.

"It's fucking hell Y/N. Every time I see any man look at you I want to rip his eyes out, and I can't turn it off. I've tried, and the way that Alvez looks at you- it drives me fucking crazy." Spencer snaps, the anger building by the second. Your entire body begins to hum with an intense need, and Spencer can see it in your eyes. Spencer releases you then and he turns for the door, at first you're afraid he's going to leave but instead he locks the door. Luckily it's late, so the police station is more deserted then it is during the day. Turning back to you, Spencer reaches for the blinds next and you can't help but follow his every movement with your eyes.

"Get on your knees." Spencer says suddenly, and you freeze in shock. Did he just say...?

"Get. On. Your. Knees." Spencer says again through clenched teeth, leaning back against the table, heat simmering in his eyes. His hands grip the edge of the table and you feel a throb from between your legs. Quickly you scramble onto your knees in front of him, your hands reaching up to undo his belt. Once the belt is unfastened, you're quickly unbuttoning his dress slacks, your eagerness making your hands a bit clumsy. Spencer has never been this dominant during sex, but you have no complaints. He has your knees weak and he hasn't even touched you. You quickly dip your hand into his boxers to pull his hardening cock out. As soon as his cock is freed, your lips are wrapping around the head. Spencer's head tosses back in ecstasy.

"Your lips look so pretty stretched around my cock. Those bastards could only imagine having you on your knees for them." Spencer snaps, his hand weaving into the hair at the back of your head. You moan softly around him at his crude words, slowly sliding down his cock. Spencer groans when he feels your tongue laving the underside of his cock, along the vein that runs from base to tip. Apparently feeling impatient, Spencer pushes your head further down his cock. He feels his tip right at the entrance of your throat, and with one gentle thrust he breaches your throat and his cock slides all the way into your mouth.

"Fuck," Spencer hisses, and Spencer does not curse often. So the fact that you have been able to draw curses from his mouth is nothing short of a miracle. Spencer's chest heaves slightly as you gag lightly around him, drawing another deep groan from his chest. You feel nearly desperate to please him, you need to make him cum. You want him to fucking pound you, you want him to use your body for his pleasure. You want him to release all of his frustration out on you, you want to be sore when he's done.

"You're mine. This is my body to touch and admire, my tight pussy to stretch open, mine." Spencer growls, thrusting gently to meet your hasty movements. You whimper around his cock, gagging slightly again as spit dribbles down your chin. Your eyes are wide and watery as you look up at him, and the sight of you nearly causes him to blow his load. You just look so fucking beautiful on your knees in front of him, drool on your chin and your mouth full of cock. It's a sight he will never forget. You move your head faster, keeping your eyes locked on his. Spencer squeezes the edge of the table, his head tossing back when his orgasm hits him. You feel his cum shooting in spurts to the back of your throat and you swallow every drop. Once you pull off him, Spencer is grabbing your elbows to pull you to stand.

Spencer's hands are reaching for the button of your dress slacks as his mouth presses messily to yours. Spencer's tongue pushes into your mouth, his hands pushing your pants down and you kick them off. Instantly, Spencer's fingers are sliding into your panties and through your slick folds. You whine loudly against his mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as his palm roughly cradles the back of your head.

"Need to make sure you know who you belong to." Spencer snaps as he pulls away from you, quickly pushing two long fingers into your dripping hole. You cry out before Spencer is slapping a hand over your mouth, your back pressed against the wall. Spencer's slender frame is leaning against you, effectively trapping you against the wall and his body. Your eyes are rolling when Spencer's finger crook inside of you while roughly thrusting into you.

"Gotta be quiet, wouldn't want Luke to catch us now would we?" Spencer breathes in the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps spreading over your skin. You are completely at Spencer's mercy and you wouldn't have it any other way. The pleasure shooting through you goes rocketing up your spine when Spencer scissors his fingers inside of you. You're mumbling incoherently against his palm, desperate pleas not to stop, to please let you cum. Your entire body is flushed, and you feel sweat on your skin like a sheen layer over you. Spencer feels you begin to squeeze around his fingers and he replaces his palm with his mouth, swallowing all of your moans and desperate cries.

Your back is arching as your high approaches, and you climb higher and higher to meet it. Spencer never lets up, his fingers steadily pumping into you and his lips muffling all of your cries of pleasure. The sounds you make are music to his ears, they tell him that you will always be his, no matter what childish fears he has. Your hands come up to unbutton the buttons on Spencer's dress shirt, you need to feel more of him. Before you can finish undressing your husband, his fingers nudge your cervix and you instantly clamp around his fingers, your body convulsing.

"You look so beautiful when you cum." Spencer praises, his cock rock hard again. He needs to be inside of you as soon as humanely possible. Spencer pulls away from you to grasp the base of his cock, no need to bother with protection. The two of you already agreed that you want to try for a baby anyway.

"Please baby, please get inside me. How could you think I'd ever leave you? I love you, and nobody could make me cum like you can." You moan desperately, turning to bend over the table. Spencer's hand runs up your spine, enjoying the way you wriggle your hips in search of his cock. There are butterflies squirming in your stomach as you spread your legs apart wider for him, but he still doesn't bring his cock closer to you.

"Oh c'mon Spence don't do this please. Baby, fuck me." You plead, nearly sobbing as you shamlessly beg. He presses his tip against your soaked entrance and you whine. You hear fabric rustling around and you turn your head just in time to see him pull his tie from around his neck.

"I needed to hear you beg for me, and this is to keep you quiet. As much as I love the sounds you make when I'm inside you, I can't let anyone else hear you." Spencer says, his voice low and rumbling from his chest. You open your mouth to let him tie the silk fabric in your mouth. You try to whimper but you gag around the tie in your mouth, and you see a pleased smile cross onto Spencer's face. Your fingers grasp at the edge of the table as you impatiently wait for Spencer to push into you. You feel his glorious cock nestled at your entrance, the tip barely nudging in. You feel another wave of slick gush out of you and Spencer is running his tip through your already drenched folds. Such a tease.

You whine softly, trying to push back against him. Spencer chuckles darkly before his hands grasp your hips to hold you steady. With one firm thrust, Spencer is breaching your folds and sliding deep inside you. You feel heat searing through you, your head dropping to the table as you whimper through the burn. The stretch burns more then you anticipated, and you hear Spencer groaning softly, which sends another wave of liquid heat rushing through you.

"God you feel so good baby, you take my cock so fucking well." Spencer praises, gently pulling out to slowly thrust back in. His eyes are locked on the place where you two connect, watching with hooded eyes as his cock disappears inside you.

"I wish you could see this baby, I love watching you take my cock." He praises through a soft moan, and you drink up every sound he makes. Spencer needed this so bad and you love the fact that you can give him a type of relief nobody else on the planet can give him. Spencer steadily thrusts into you when you both hear footsteps slowly passing outside the room. You expect Spencer to stop, to pull out of you and start redressing but he doesn't. He slows his pace considerably, but he still slowly thrusts into you.

"Shh, I would hate for whoever that is to see my cock buried in your pretty pussy." Spencer whispers as he leans forward to whisper in your ear. You struggle to contain the whimpers, but somehow you remain completely silent as Spencer gently thrusts into you. Once whoever it is passes by, Spencer resumes his quicker thrusts. His pelvis hits your ass with enough force to send you lurching across the table and your fingers scramble to find purchase against the smooth surface.

"This is my pussy, you're my wife, you're mine. Not Luke's, not that dick from the Prison. Mine." Spencer says, punctuating the words with a sharp thrust into you. You wished you could answer him, that you could cry to the heavens that you belong to Spencer Reid- that you never want to belong to anybody else. You settle for squeezing his cock whenever it returns to your velvety warmth, chanting the same word in your head over and over.

Yours yours yours yours yours.

Your forehead presses against the table, muffled and strangled cries escaping your lips every time Spencer hits deep inside you. His cock stretches you perfectly, and always hits places deep inside you. Places you didn't know existed. Soon you feel your orgasm creeping up on you, and you feel lightheaded so you reach up to yank the tie away from your mouth.

"Please make me cum Spence, I'm so close baby please don't stop." You beg, muffling your moans with your palm as he drives his cock into you. You feel sweat covering your entire body and Spencer holds your hips with a bruising force. You feel that coil winding tighter and tighter, and you release a high pitched whine when Spencer's hand snakes around your body to thumb your clit.

"Oh Spencer your cock feels so good, soo good baby. Always feels so good, fuck baby I love you," You're not sure what you're saying at this point, an incoherent mess of praises for the man above you. Spencer loves when he reduces you to this, speaking in a jumble of words and disconnected statements because you can't think with his cock inside you.

"I, shit, I love you-" Spencer gasps, slamming his cock inside you and rolling your clit before you're squeezing around him tightly, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. You cum in hot gushes around him and Spencer can only offer a few more stuttering thrusts before he's cumming with a loud growl, coating your walls in his hot cum. Spencer keeps his cock inside you, ensuring his cum stays inside you. He wants to get you pregnant. His palms gently hold your hips, and all the frustration he's felt all day has completely disappeared. His chest is heaving from the exertion but he feels more relaxed then he has all day. There's a smile on your face and your eyes are closed as your legs finally give out and you collapse against the table.

"You okay?" You hear Spencer's voice, and you can't help but smile when you hear that he's panting slightly. You hum with a smile on your face.

"I'm amazing." You mumble back, feeling Spencer begin to gently massage your back. You love enjoying the afterglow with him, even if you're laying on a table. Slowly Spencer pulls out, but he groans softly when he sees his cum inside your pussy. He reaches to the floor to pull your panties and dress slacks back up your legs and he quickly tucks himself back into his pants. He buttons the 4 buttons you managed to open on his shirt before he's gently pulling you to stand.

"You sure you're alright?" Spencer asks, concern in his eyes. You nod with a smile, but when he releases his hold on your shoulders, you feel your legs tremble and give out underneath you. Spencer immediately catches you and sets you down on the table. You laugh softly.

"Guess you fucked me good."

"Sorry." Spencer says sheepishly, but you press a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Don't be, that had to have been the best sex we've had in a long time." You mumble against his lips and Spencer hums in agreement. Reaching for his tie, Spencer shoves it in his pocket before he pokes his head out of the room you guys just defiled.

"Spencer, I'm so sorry about what I said. I love you so much, I didn't mean what I said about my ring-" You blubber suddenly, drawing Spencer's attention to you. He cradles your head against his chest, pressing kisses to your forehead.

"I know baby, it's okay. I love you." Spencer answers quietly, holding you to him tightly.

"I'm sorry I was a jerk today. I'm just so protective of you. I can't let anything steal you from me." Spencer admits softly and you cup his cheeks to make him look at you. There is a sadness in his eyes that you want to obliterate, you can't stand it when he's sad. It breaks your heart.

"Nothing could steal me from you. I only want you Spencer." You say quietly and you see tears misting his eyes. He presses his lips desperately against yours, and you feel tears cascading down yours and his cheeks. The kiss is wet, but it's passionate and you throw every ounce of love you have for this man into it. When you and Spencer part, your foreheads are pressed together.

"Hey Spence? How am I gonna get to the hotel. I can't walk." You say softly with a giggle and Spencer smiles mischievously.

"I guess I'll have to carry you." He scoops you bridal style into his arms then and you blush deeply when he carries you out of the room and towards the front entrance.

"Spencer! Everybody is going to know!" You whisper into his ear and he chuckles.

"Good."

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #post prison spencer #jealousy #possessive #criminal minds #smut #spencer reid x you #spencer x reader #jealous smut

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julemmaes · 3 years

Text

Robyn

Rowaelin Month, Day Ten

A/N: I'd planned on posting them in order, but you get what you get. Idk when the other prompts will come tbf. I hope soon. Anyway, I managed to write over 6k words today and I'm pretty fucking proud.

This is just fluff over fluff, so yep enjoy!!

Word count: 3,047

Rowan was unbelievably late as he sped through the streets of Orynth.

So late that the school had called not only him, but also the front desk of the place where he worked when he hadn't answered the call on his personal phone. Sorscha, his assistant, had entered his office with an embarrassed smile on her lips, as if she didn't want to tell him that he had forgotten for the umpteenth time to pick up his daughter from school.

Lorcan had joined him, for some strange reason, but Rowan had stopped bothering when it came to his best friend. He'd been trying to figure out how he reasoned for years and had come to the conclusion that there was no logical sense in the actions of the man sitting next to him, who was currently singing at the top of his lungs to one of the songs on the Frozen CD - which much to the chagrin of both of them, had gotten stuck in his car radio months before, forcing them into hours of torture.

He would never deny that the songs were all quite catchy, but after the sixteenth time Rowan had had to listen to Let It Go at maximum volume, his positive opinion of the film had begun to waver.

As they pulled into the school parking lot, Rowan noticed with deep regret that the only cars still there were those of the teachers and school staff.

They both got out of the car, Rowan walking quickly towards the entrance while Lorcan dragged behind him.

He greeted the caretakers sitting at the entrance, who returned a big smile. A smile that grew even wider when his large, imposing friend entered a few moments later. He stopped to talk to the old ladies and Rowan walked down the corridor he knew led to Robyn's classroom.

He could hear muffled voices from inside the teachers' room on the left and the one he knew belonged to Miss Galathynius coming from the right. He looked out over the classroom, spotting the two people sitting at a desk.

As soon as his daughter saw him, her eyes widened and a huge smile flashed across her face.

No words. No "hello, daddy!" or "I missed you!" from the little girl.

Her teacher turned as she leapt out of her chair and ran towards him, hugging his legs and looking up at him. Rowan smiled at her in turn, running a hand over her hair that was shot in every direction.

"Hello, little bird," he murmured to her. The child's smile widened even more if that was possible.

The woman a few feet away from them pulled herself upright, crossing her arms over her chest and offering a sincere smile to the child, who hid behind his thighs.

Rowan was about to tell her that Robyn was shy with everyone like this, ready to defend his daughter's behaviour as he was used to doing in front of every adult, but he was beaten to the punch.

"It's good to see you, Mr Whitethorn," she said, extending a hand. Rowan shook it without hesitation. "Actually, I just wanted to write you a letter regarding Robyn," she continued, never taking her eyes off the little girl. "Nothing serious," she hastened to reassure him when Rowan grimaced, "quite the contrary. Robyn is remarkably good. One of the best in the class, though I shouldn't offer that information so bluntly."

Miss Galathynius winked at him, but he couldn't process what he'd just been told.

"Sorry, could you-"

The little hands clamped around his trousers tightened a fraction more and Rowan looked down, trying to figure out what was bothering his daughter, but then something happened that he hadn't even dared to dream about in recent times.

"You're here!"

The little girl broke off and ran away from him in less than the blink of an eye.

Rowan turned just in time to see Lorcan grab Robyn in mid-air, spinning her around as he brought her to his chest and showered her with kisses. The loud, incessant laughter that erupted from her seemed too much coming from that fragile little body, but he never tired of hearing it.

"Why hello baby!" said Lorcan laughing in turn, starting to tickle her until she begun to rebel and he was forced to let her slide to the floor. Robyn was still laughing at the top of her lungs and nearly fell to the ground as she squealed left and right, letting herself be pushed around by the closest thing to an uncle she had ever had.

When Rowan turned back to the woman, she was wide-eyed and her lips slightly parted as she watched the massive man dressed completely in black and the menacing face turn into a completely different person the second he had seen Robyn.

He chuckled, "I know, it's not every day you get to see a little girl be so comfortable with a brute like that."

Lorcan, who was listening to everything, looked him straight in the eye and without stopping smiling and playing with the little girl, mouthed to him to fuck off.

"Well, yeah. You caught me a little off guard." she confessed, still shocked to hear how Robyn was having a full conversation with Lorcan. They couldn't hear anything of what she was actually saying, but even just the fact she was talking to someone seemed to have Aelin unsettled.

She returned her attention to Rowan and let out a breath that sounded more like a giggle, "I've never heard her laugh before."

He nodded, blushing a little at the teacher's surprised but relieved tone.

"I'm sure the dean warned you about the problem she has," he said in a low voice. He grimaced at her poor choice of words, "I mean, not problem, but the difficulty she finds in interacting with people she doesn't know."

Liar, he told himself. Robyn hadn't spoken to anyone but him and Lorcan since the day Lyria had died. It wasn't a difficulty, but a response to the trauma that prevented her from speaking to anyone who wasn't part of her immediate family.

"I know, I know. We've been looking for solutions together." she informed him. "I give her a white board every morning. Come on, I'll show you." she turned to the desk they were sitting at earlier and raised the magnetic board, on which a few words were scribbled on. "I'll write here what she might need. Yes. No. I need to go to the bathroom. I'm thirsty. I'm hungry." she read, listing the various options. Rowan gaped. "We've only just started going over the alphabet for a second time, so she can't really read or write yet, as I imagine you know, but the little drawings next to each sentence help her."

She continued talking, but he couldn't quite follow.

The woman in front of him - aside from being breathtakingly beautiful - had done as much as she could to help her child with communication.

"Mr. Whitethorn-"

"Rowan. Please, call me Rowan." he said, clearing his throat once he realized how hoarse it sounded to his ears. Lorcan walked up to them at that point, still holding Robyn in his arms and positioned himself next to him, letting their shoulders touch in a comforting way.

"Call me Aelin, then," she smiled at them both. Then she made a small grimace, turning to Rowan, "I wanted to ask if it bothered you, that I sought a solution like that. Maybe I put her in distress, embarrassed her. I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that I wanted to solve this on my own. I really wanted to discuss it with you, with your husband too, to avoid misunderstandings. Maybe we could arrange a meeting."

He was about to tell her that she had given him the exact opposite of annoyance, that he had been more than pleased that she had helped Robyn this way, when her words finally registered.

Lorcan, beside him, had opened his mouth wide and his lips were slowly bending into a mischievous smile.

Rowan furrowed his brow, "I'm sorry, what?"

Aelin's smile seemed to falter. "A meeting? With you? To talk about how to handle the situation," then she shifted her gaze to Lorcan, "You're more than welcome to join as well. I didn't know Robyn had two dads, I apologise for assuming Robyn had a mum and dad. That was very rude of me-"

"I love this," Lorcan whispered, laughing in shock. He turned to Rowan with eyes that sparkled with amusement, "I would definitely be the top."

Rowan looked at him with an expression of complete shock on his face, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Robyn gasped, opening her eyes wide and bringing a hand to her mouth, pointing then to Rowan's.

"Yeah, sorry, love. I shouldn't have said the bad word." he apologised, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. He turned back to Miss Galathynius, "I'm sorry to have to disappoint you, but we're not married."

"No need to lie, sweetie. I'm sure Aelin," he gave her a knowing look, "doesn't mind at all about our relationship status."

Aelin nodded, "Well, yes. That doesn't change anything. Mr..." she turned to Lorcan, searching for a name.

"Salvaterre."

"Mr. Salvaterre can still attend. The fact that you are not yet married is no reason why you cannot both be present at the meeting. You don't have to worry, we are a very tolerant school and if anyone bothers you, you can come directly to me."

A sound of sheer glee escaped Lorcan.

Aelin continued, "I mean it. I was pleased to see both of you today. I was also pleased to see Robyn smiling so much." she concluded, looking the little one in the face.

Rowan took a deep breath, bracing himself, "No, I meant, we're not a couple. We're not gay. He's her uncle."

The woman's blonde eyebrows shot up and a second later she turned almost as red as the dress Robyn was wearing as Lorcan shook his head muttering something very much like 'you're no fun', which made Robyn giggle.

"Why did you even get off the car?" he asked him exasperated.

Lorcan shrugged, "Because I missed my little bean, you monster." he replied, clutching Robyn to his chest. The little girl clutched Lorcan's shirt in her chubby little hands and Rowan huffed, shaking his head.

Aelin brought her hands to her face, leaning against the desk behind her. She shook her head, her face still hidden, "Oh, god. I'm so sorry."

Lorcan let out a dry laugh, "Don't worry about it. It was fun while it lasted." then he turned to Rowan again, who was still trying to recover from the idea of being involved in a relationship with his friend, "You're really no fun."

"Yeah, no fun dad." repeated Robyn.

Silence fell over the class. Rowan looked at her with wide eyes and blinked once, twice. Robyn was staring at him with a sweet scowl that mimicked so much that of the man who was still holding her, but Rowan couldn't get over the fact that his daughter had spoken while Aelin was still beside them.

He was about to talk, noticing how Robyn had started squirming in Lorcan's arms, when there was a knock at the door.

They both turned, Aelin peering over Rowan's shoulder, and saw the figure of a petite girl with black hair and eyes standing in the doorway, watching them with her head slightly bent to the side. She had a tag on her t-shirt that was too colourful to belong to someone who didn't work in a school with children, so he guessed she was a teacher herself. Besides, Rowan felt like he'd seen her elsewhere. Probably every day when he picked Robyn up from school, he said to himself.

"I know you're not supposed to eavesdrop but I stopped by earlier and heard you were a couple of dads," she said by way of introduction. "I just wanted to reassure you that the school is an extremely safe place. I'm the one who did most of the interviews with the parents," that's where they had met then, "and one of the questions that is asked is just about the tolerance of the people who will be attending the school."

Aelin watched her, remaining silent the whole time and putting on an amused smile, nodded, "That's what I was telling them. How tolerant the school is. They make such a cute couple, don't you think, Elide?"

Rowan turned to her, arching an eyebrow, silently asking her what she was doing. The woman, as if she could truly understand what he was trying to convey to her, nodded her head towards Lorcan, who Rowan only then noticed was standing weirdly, his eyes fixed on the woman in the doorway.

He grinned, deciding to take his revenge right away. "Oh, yes. Thank you so much for the reassurance," Rowan began to play along as well. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lorcan turn towards him, dropping Robyn to the floor, who made a disapproving noise at being dumped so suddenly. "We are happy to know that this school is a safe place for our daughter. And for us."

Elide offered him a blinding smile, "Good. I'm happy to hear that you are pleased so far. And I am happy that Aelin is the one who is taking your daughter's class. She's the best one here."

Rowan didn't know her yet, but he knew the thing Elide had just said could only be true.

"Well," she said again, giving them an apologetic smile, "I really must go now, but if you need anything, you can find all my contact details on the website. Have a nice day!"

Aelin and Rowan said their goodbyes, thanking her. Lorcan took a while to recover, but when he realised he was staring into empty space he ran towards the door, almost stepping on little Robyn, who was moved by Aelin.

"We are very much not gay, miss!" he shouted into the hallway. Aelin, now beside him and with a hand on Robyn's shoulder, cackled. With Lorcan's infinite luck, someone walked by just then and gave him a stern look. "Oh, shut up ma'am. I'm an ally. The best ally."

Rowan shook his head as Lorcan launched himself in pursuit of the poor teacher and burst out laughing when he heard him shout, "I'm not homophobic! I'm willing to suck someone's cock if I have to prove it to you!"

Aelin opened her mouth wide before bursting out laughing in turn.

Robyn, seeing both adults so happy, giggled too and Rowan bent down to pick her up. The little girl laid her full head of white-light hair on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

She was tired and Rowan really needed to get her home to sleep.

He glanced at Aelin and reduced his lips to a thin line, "I'm sorry about the commotion, I'll try not to bring him into the building again. Even if it means tying him to the seat."

The soft laugh she gave made something tighten in his chest. He frowned.

Aelin didn't seem to notice the effect she had on him, "Don't worry, Elide is crazy about fools like him. If he says the right things, we might start seeing each other outside of school too."

Rowan nodded, now too caught up in the thought of having to take Robyn home to focus on anything else.

They agreed on when to hold the parent-teacher meeting and then he grabbed Robyn's backpack, walking towards the exit.

He was thoughtless as he reached into his pocket for his keys and balanced everything else - including the girl - on his other arm, but when Robyn's hand brushed his cheek, he looked down and his eyes met their twins. Green against green.

"What is it?"

The little girl's voice never stopped making him smile. Each time was like the first time she had said dada.

"I really like her."

Rowan frowned, "Who?"

"Miss Aelin." she whispered, almost as if she was afraid they might hear her.

He smiled at her, "Yeah? You like her?"

"She's nice to me."

Rowan had to put her down as he opened the door and let her get into the back seats by herself.

"I'm glad she's treating you well, love," he let her know, buckling her in.

He hoped she'd tell him more about her new teacher, but like any kid her age, the topic of conversation couldn't last for more than four lines apiece, "Where's Uncle Lorcan?"

Rowan snorted, "No idea, little bird."

Robyn nodded, "Elide is pretty too."

And as if those words had summoned him, Lorcan appeared beside the car, making them both scream. He entered the car in a heartbeat and turned to his daughter, who was still settling into the seat. "Do you know Miss Lochan?"

But before she could answer him, Rowan had entered the car in turn and smacked the back of his head, which made the Robyn giggle, "You're not using my daughter as your wingman. Now stop it and buckle up."

Lorcan gave him a gentle push, before doing as he was told and for once he was happy he'd convinced him to do something.

Or at least, Rowan thought he had convinced him.

"What if I left you a note to deliver to Miss Lochan, Rob? Would you be up for it?"

Rowan knew, even without looking at her, that she was nodding emphatically.

Keeping his eyes on the road, he murmured, "Could you stop calling my daughter Rob, please? You'll give her an existential crisis."

Lorcan clicked his tongue against his palate, "Rowan, I'm not giving her a damn thing. We live in this new world, okay? Your daughter could be called Simon and still be a beautiful princess. Grow up and educate yourself before you talk shit."

"Aaaah!" shouted Robyn, "Bad word!"

Rowan sighed and shook his head, but still he was smiling.

This was his life. Had been for the past two years.

And he wouldn't change it for the world.

tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just dm me or send me an ask)

@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @hellasblessed @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @terrible-and-proud @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @thewayshedreamed @the-regal-warrior @fangirlprincess09 @januarystears @rowaelinismyotp @starbornsinger @bookstantrash @thegreyj @feysand-loml @autumnbabylon @a-court-of-milkandhoney @highqueenofelfhame @story-scribbler @mariamuses @rhysandswingspan @tanvee1231

#rowaelinmonth #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #tog #throne of glass #rowaelin fic #fluff #rowaelin month day ten

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sparkbeast20 · 3 years

Text

The Pain of Love (Lucifer X MC)

The Blue Lotus petals

As a fan of Beauty and the Beast, Showing your “true self” to Lover or (Monster Love) Tropes. I figure to make a (More Demonic Forms AU/head canon) story for each brothers. heads up each brother’s Story is long as fuck. So, I'll be posting them as parts and finishing one brother before moving on to the rest of them. (tell me if you want tag)

Warning: Before and after Sex but no depiction of sex sorry I don't know how to write smut, The other six kinda being torture

“Yeah, I do hear the eerie voices in this one” you were laying in the couch in Lucifer’s study, while listening to one of his curse records.

“Just make sure you don’t listen to the end, you might get nightmares, we don’t need two insomniacs in our bed.” All the while Lucifer is doing some early paper work before breakfast. You just came along with him, because you couldn’t go back to sleep.

“We wouldn’t even have one, if a certain demon learns to sleep within 8 hours” he chuckles at your poor attempt of a sley comment.

“I’ll take full advantage of this morning, since we don’t class today, that way we have the entire afternoon together”

“Promise!”

“I Promise, now cut the record, the end is approaching”

You lifted the nailed, the you sat up and stretch your arms before standing up and walk over to Lucifer, you wrap your arms around is shoulders, lean forward and kiss the top of his head. He hums at your presents.

You move down and whisper in his ear. “You want some coffee, Lucifer” you pulled away to meet his sight, he nods with a smirk on his face, then you let go and start walking up the stairs. As you about to turn the knob, he calls to you.

“Y/n, as of today no more, blue lotus petals in my coffee for now on.”

“Okay, anything else?”

“Just make sure it’s bitter, okay love” with that you gave him a playful smile and left.

“Oh sweet, yer making coffee, mind make me one too” Mammon just steps in the kitchen, happy to smell coffee in the air.

“You can have mine, I really only made for me and Lucifer” you tell him that, while waiting for the coffee to get ready.

“So, his up all ready what’s he doing now.” Mammon asks while his digging through the cabins for something.

“Finishing some bills, this month’s plan actives for RAD, and the house budgets” you answer as you pour the two mugs with coffee.

“Should I start running now or pray that none of those bills are mine”

“Just wait in an hour to see” you smile at him, you fully know that he needs to hide now, as you pass him the mug of coffee. He took it with uncertain look on his face and drop two blue petals in his coffee.

“Hey, you forgot these” you’re at the doorway, when you turn around with coffee in hand to see Mammon holding up the blue lotus petals.

“Lucifer said no more petals in his coffee”

“What!”

“Something wrong?” after a moment Mammon shake his head, tells you it’s nothing, you shrug your shoulder and walk back to Lucifer.

“Oh… Y/n, be a doll and untie us” Asmo calls to make you to look up into the ceiling to see Mammon, Levi, Satan with cloth in his mouth, Asmo, and Belphie who also have a cloth in his mouth, Strang up by their legs.

“Let me guess, one could stop ordering online, the two of you try to sneak out late in a school night, and the last two pull something that piss of the eldest” you said nonchalantly, causing Satan to violently flail, Mammon and Levi crying.

Asmo tries to fix his head to look at you properly, bashing his eye lash to soften up to you “Oh come on, you know us this is what we are, haven’t you notice that Lucifer has been a little~”

“Strict lately” you finish what he was about to say, Asmo pouts with his lower lip stick out and look at you with sad puppy eyes begging you to untie them.

In your mind, you want to untie them but remembering what Lucifer said “don’t cave to them, understand” cause you to hesitate. When all of the sudden the door slam open, causing you to turn around to see Lucifer in his demon form, dragging a tie up Beel, the latter which is sobbing.

Hearing his twin sobbing wakes up Belphie who start to flail around like Satan.

You don’t why, but you started to turn redder, you can feel the heat rushing through your face. Maybe Seeing Lucifer dragging Beel with one arm and dominant look on his face makes you want to hold him tight and cuddle into his chest.

While you just standing there awestruck, Lucifer manage to Strang up Beel next to Belphie.

“Oi Y/n, tell Lucifer that is gone too far” Mammon calls out to you

“Y-yeah, out of any of us Beel does have to Strang like this” Levi adds to Mammon call, while Belphie mummer through the cloth to grab your attention.

“Enough, Beelzebub is only going Strang up for 2 hours. For empty the fridge 2 days straight and all of you just have to wait 6 more hours depending on who has the least offense” Lucifer tells his brothers with a booming voice, then all of them started to yell, cry, and/or mummer at him.

He was about to yell, when all of the sudden you hug him and bury you face into chest, seeing your action shock the brothers.

Without looking away from his brothers, place one arm on your back drawing you closer. You look up at his face with your eyes of filled with lust and your face with red through your cheek.

He looks down, a smile creep up on his face, he cups your face drawing it closer to his.

Then you pouch kissing him like untamed animal, wrapping your arms around his neck not letting him pull away, as his arms rub around your back, one hand on your shoulder while the other one is on your waist.

Seeing you two practically eating each, the brothers watch in horror, Mammon and Levi are screaming in agony, Satan and Belphie try to look away but couldn’t, and Asmo and Beel are mortifed.

Hearing his brothers in pain, cause Lucifer to growl aggressively in pleasure, then he sweeps you off your feet while you two are still kissing taking you somewhere private, as you two slowly walk away to savior the screams, you slowly pull-out foldable knife that Mammon gave to you from your pocket and throw it at Beel, seeing the knife Beel swing forward and catch the knife with his teeth, and hums in happiness for catching it, then Lucifer slam the door closes.

“I’m hungry” Beel sitting in the dinning room groaning in pain, with the rest of the brothers still recover from Lucifer’s punishment.

Mammon, Levi, Satan, and Asmo rub their neck, arms and legs to less the street on them, while Belphie is collapse on the table awake.

“S-so which one of us want to asks Lucifer M-money for dinner” Levi asks around to who’s brave enough to go Lucifer’s room and asks him.

“Are you mad! I would rather use my own money, then going to that monster right now” Mammon yell at Levi, for suggesting that.

“I want to pull out my eyes and burn them” Satan talk to himself, trying to forget what he had to watch helpless.

Then foot steps can be heard, causing the brothers stiff in place except for Levi who hide under the table.

Not even at the doorway you start talking to them “So Lucifer asks me to give you money for take-out, and tell all of you that we’ll be skipping dinner too”

Asmo back to his cheerful self, wanting to know what drove you into acting like him ask while waiting for you to come inside the room, both hands under his chin and elbows rest on the table with his eyes gleefully close.

“Oh, are you and my big brother done~” before he could finish his question, he turns to the doorway and open his eyes to see you.

His eyes widen as he let out shock gasp, causing the rest to look up and did the same thing.

You were barely standing wearing Lucifer’s robe and nothing else, dark hand grips around both of your wrists, your almost expose chest is covered in hickeys, bite marks and three visible claw marks. And your messy hair is covered your face.

With a goofy smile, you slowly walk over to the table and place half stack of grimms on it, then slowly walk out the room leave the brothers stunned.

After a few minutes of complete silent, Mammon remembering something, cause him to yelp to himself, knowing fully well that there are royal screwed for the coming weeks.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me Belphegor #obey me reader x lucifer #obey me monster love

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