#I realise I’m making it sound like something way worse than it is I just don’t want to broadcast conflicts in my relationship to everyone o

[xxcallmemaryxx]

hi!!! i love your works<3

could you maybe write vessel x reader first date?

A sappy first date with the big guy. He’s a bit nervous. But so are you.

Vessel x GN reader.

Under the cut ~ <3

It’s a nice place. It’s quiet, the lights are dim, the booths are made in such a way that it’s like you’re on a whole other planet when you sit in them. Which normally, would be phenomenal. Having such a level of privacy while enjoying your dinner, it’s perfect. But this time it feels like a curse. Like the world is working against you. Because sat across from you is Vessel. He’s in a freshly ironed button up, a dark blue that looks almost black under these lights. His hair is combed back out of his face and he looks at you like you hung the stars. It’s awful.

It’s your first date.

And he’s doing absolutely everything right.

The problem is, every time your eyes meet you’ve half a mind to tell him you love him.

You’ve known each other a while, and he’s always had that effect. But here, on your first date, when the tension between you two is burning up the room and the feelings you kept hidden for so long are pretty much sitting on the table in front of him? Yeah long story short you’re both clearly nervous as all hell and neither of you know how to approach it. Telling him you love him in a panic attempt at easing into the night probably isn’t the way to go. But this date is just so different and it feels so real, your panic stems from more than just wanting to break the ice, it’s coming from the little voice in your head that’s telling you if this date goes the way you want it to… he’s it for you.

You can only hope to the god he spends so much time worshiping that he feels somewhat the same way.

You like Vessel.

You want him to like you back.

“Look, uh… we don’t have to do this. I’d never want to push you.”

His voice, which you’re sure is proof of heaven alone, snaps you right out of your panic. Then, gives you even worse panic.

“Huh? Why?”

There’s obvious worry in your tone, you know it. He picks up on it, because of course he does.

“I just worry you’re not really present. I’d hate for this to be something you’re just trying to get through, sometimes two people just aren’t supposed to go there… you know?”

His eyes are cast down. He doesn’t want to watch you agree with him. He can’t do it. He can’t make himself watch you sigh in relief. He can’t make himself watch you realise this was indeed a mistake. He can’t make himself smile at you as you tell him you’re sorry but he’s right.

“Oh god… Vessel I’m so sorry.”

Hm. If you listen close enough… you might just be able to hear the sound of his heart shattering in his chest over the clinking of the cutlery throughout the restaurant.

“No, please it’s okay. It happens. You’re still my-“

“It’s just been a long time since I’ve been this excited about a date, got a bit lost in my own head there for a moment. I’m sorry. I’m here I promise.”

Oh fucking Christ thank Sleep one hundred times to the moon and back again. His heart thumps wildly against his ribcage, he’s almost positive you can hear it. And he doesn’t even attempt to hide the sigh of relief that escapes him and the happy smile that graces his lips.

“That is… yeah that’s a relief. I won’t lie to you.”

He huffs a nervous laugh as he fiddles with the tablecloth hanging over the side of the table between you.

“I mean, there wouldn’t have been any hard feelings of course… but I’m really happy you still want to be here.”

You’re silent for a moment while you decide whether or not what you’re about to do is a bad idea or not. But you want to show him you’re serious about this date, you want him to see you enjoying his presence. You need to snap yourself out of it and make some moves.

So you get up.

His head snaps up and he watches you slide out of the booth with a look of complete dread. He straightens up. His hands fall to his sides and his face turns beet red. His jaw opens and closes as he tries to force words out but no sounds escape him. That is until you round the table and slide in next to him.

You offer him a little smile as your side presses against his. Your knees bump together under the table and your hands brush as you situate yourself. He uses his other hand to press his face into it. His voice muffled slightly as he groans quietly into it.

“Fucking Christ… you’re going to send me into an early grave.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. You purposely bump his knees with your own this time, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“I’m sorry… did I scare you?”

“Yes. Yes you did. I thought I’d ruined it all.”

He laughs a little, and he looks down at where you’re pressed up against him. His cheeks are flushed but he looks happy. His eyes sparkle and when he grins down at you, all his teeth are on full display. It’s the kind of smile that would make your cheeks hurt a little bit. The kind that’s a bit awkward and feels too big for your face.

It suits him.

“I’m sorry, Vess. I really like you, I was worried about it not working and kind of got too deep into worrying about it.”

He blinks down at you, it’s a slow blink, his cheeks are still tinted red from your close proximity and you swear for one moment it looks like he’s got hearts in his eyes.

“Don’t panic, love. It’s definitely working.”

His voice is low, it changes the mood almost immediately and all of a sudden it’s too warm in this booth. Who’s idea was it to cozy up to him like this. It feels like you’re suffocating again, he’s so overwhelming when all he’s doing is speaking to you.

He was right before, the tablecloth that hangs over the side of the table really is that interesting. You can’t stop yourself from fiddling with it, you’re starting to feel awkward again. You hear him force a deep breath into his lungs above you before his very large very beautiful hand encompasses your much smaller one, and intertwines his fingers between yours. There’s a slight tremble, you can feel it when you squeeze his hand tight enough. You’re positive doing that made it worse but it’s so endearing that you can’t even feel guilty.

Everything about Vessel is so endearing.

“Thank you for saying yes to me.”

If you weren’t sitting so close you probably wouldn’t have heard him. He gazes down at you, eyes so full of hope. It makes your throat close up and need prickle through your chest.

“Of course, Vess. You thought I would have said no to you?”

“No. I didn’t think you would…”

Cheeky fucker.

“… but I’m just so happy you said yes. I’m excited to be here, like this, with you. I’m sure it’s obvious.”

You lean up and press a soft kiss to his cheek, this causes a chain reaction, starting with his furiously blushing cheeks (yet again), then he smiles so wide he has to look at the ceiling just to calm himself down, his breathing picks up and his hand squeezes yours where he’s holding it in his lap. He looks back down at you with a smile that says a lot. It’s a wobbly smile, his chin wrinkles up and his eyes squint a little. It screams hope. Like most of his body language does tonight. But this smile is the epitome of ‘I know you know exactly how I feel about you and I know you feel the same way.’

Nerves and excitement crackle in the air between you.

“I’m excited too. For tonight. And for our next date. And the ones after that. I’m sure that’s obvious.”

He nods at you, his wobbly smile grows. Somehow, you didn’t think it could get any bigger but it does. He’s gotta cast his eyes down, he looks at your intertwined hands and nods again, at them… to himself… to you? You’re not sure, but he’s sure of whatever he’s nodding about. And that feels good.

.

.

.

<3 <3 <3

Thank you for reading.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Migraine

Aaron helps you with your migraine. wc: 532 cw: fluff

part two of this blurb

Aaron’s immediately perturbed as he passes your office and smells chamomile rather than peppermint coming from your diffuser.

It’s basically Christmas at this point, and given your job you choose to celebrate as early as you can.

It’s not like you’re not allowed to change the scent, it just immediately strikes him as odd because you’d never.

There isn’t any soft hum of music coming from your office either.

Aaron knows something is off but he has case file reports to review and Strauss is on his ass. He’ll check on you before lunch.

Lunch rolls around and you’re still in your office, the door and blinds closed tightly.

Before he can really realise what he’s doing, Aaron knocks on the door and pushes it open.

Your office is shrouded in darkness, the lights off, your screens dim as you sit with shades on.

You’re facing your laptop, but you move slowly; like sticky treacle dripping from a spoon.

“Y/n?” You turn to him, a little frazzled but you hiss all the while.

“Sorry Hotch, I know this might not be work appropriate but I’m working.”

Your words are urgent even if slow, Aaron frowns.

“Migraine?” His words are whispers, soft and sweet.

You hum and feel the vibration course straight through the right side of your head.

Aaron coos at the way you grimace.

“I don’t mean this condescendingly, have you been drinking water?”

You manage a little laugh and Aaron frowns.

He’s sure that has caused the migraine to pulse. “I suffer with them chronically. It’s not every day but it’s most days. Today’s little beast is just worse than I’ve had them in a minute.”

He nods.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You push the sunglasses up your nose. Even with the migraine you’re sure he’d see the way your pupils melt into pools of adoration at his question.

“I don’t think so, my medicine should kick in soon.”

“What about tea?”

You can tell he wants to be useful, especially when your palm cradles your temple as you twist a little more to face him.

“Chamomile, please. Or peppermint.”

Aaron nods, “I’ll be right back.”

He shuts your door so it’s hard to hear him as he moves further into the bullpen.

You make Aaron out just enough;

“Are you sure, Spencer?”

Spencer chuckles, “Yes I’m sure. Cashews, almonds, cantaloupe. You can even try pears.”

“Anderson,” You hear him call and then Aaron mumbles something else.

When he comes to you with a steaming cup of peppermint tea, you note that he also has a plate of all the foods Spencer had mentioned.

“They’re high in magnesium.” Aaron explains carefully, allowing himself a moment to card some hair behind your ear to distract from the blush that blooms under his chin at your coo.

“Thank you Hotch.”

You sound wistful and dreamy, you ignore him and the tender way he strokes your ear a little while more as you take a sip of your tea.

“Let me know if you need to go home. Sleep may be better than any of this.”

You lean into his touch before he pulls away, “You’ve helped plenty already.”

[voiceshearingyouloud]

Being someone who represses their feelings and never communicates when someone makes you mad means that when you bring up a conflict and work through it, it feels like you did crack cocaine

[luveline]

do you have anymore pregnant bombshell!reader🥹🩷😭 ilysm, please stay hydrated

—Spencer comforts you when you feel like you aren’t yourself. pregnant!reader, 1k

It’s neither hot nor cold in Maryland that day. The work isn’t particularly strenuous, just threadbare, and the team are in good spirits. You’re fed, watered, and well-rested. Spencer spent an hour before work massaging your legs while you both watched TV on the hotel couch. You should be in great spirits. 

But for some reason, you aren’t. 

You don’t know what it is. Your chest hurts, maybe. The sun is bright above you, your feet ache in your heels. You’re thinking you might have to switch to converse and match Spencer if this continues. The sidewalk clicks below you with every footstep, a little rush of confidence in the sound, but it isn’t working the same. 

You’re really not feeling well. 

You stop walking. You like to believe it takes Spencer a shorter amount of time to notice you’re stopped than he would anyone else, but his chattering fades out of hearing range for a second before he comes running back. “Hey, what?” he asks, quickly panicked. 

“What?” you ask back. 

“You look like you’re gonna pass out,” he says. “Hey, come and sit down. Let’s sit down. Here, we passed a bench.” 

Spencer leads you to a wrought iron bench, encouraging you down with two kind hands to the shoulders. The metal is cold. You try to save face, worried that he’s worried, but there’s a dull aching behind your eyes that needs a lowered head. You drop your face into your hands. 

“Hey,” Spencer whispers, crouching in front of your knees. 

“Sorry.” 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, rubbing your thigh. “Huh? What’s wrong, baby?” 

Spencer doesn’t use very many pet names, not half as many as you do, but when he does they pack a punch. He says it with all the tenderness of a confession, and it rolls off of his tongue as though he’s been calling you baby all your life. 

Tears well in your eyes. 

“Do you know what’s wrong?” he asks. 

You shake your head tightly. 

“Is it a pain? Does something hurt?” 

You shake your head again. 

Spencer meets your eyes with patience. “Okay,” he says, darting up to kiss your jaw as he stands. His foot slides between yours, his one leg between yours, the other outside as he wraps an arm around you. “Tell me if I’m making it worse.” 

Your head races with tearful thoughts. You’re tired and weird and you’d needed to sit down, but Spencer being nice to you is making you wanna cry. 

“I don’t feel very well,” you say, a hot tear breaking through the hedging of your bottom lashes. 

He can hear the uncertainty in your voice, his hands swift to placate you, his cheek pressed to your hair. “It’s okay, I promise.” 

“We have to get back to the station.” 

“No, we have to stay here until we know what’s wrong.” 

“I was thinking about how my feet hurt, and everything does, and– and–” You squeeze him by the waist so he can’t leave. “Being pregnant is so hard,” you cry. 

Spencer sighs into your hair. “Oh, angel.” 

He rubs your back and administers some soft shushing as you shudder through tears. You didn’t realise it until you said it, that this awful feeling was inside, all the hormones and the fatigue. 

“I know it’s hard,” he says, “but please don’t cry.” 

“I don't like not being any good at it,” you splutter. 

“What?”

“I want this,” you say quickly, “I do, I want you and the baby and I’m so happy but I miss feeling like–” 

“Wait, nobody said anything about that.” He ducks his head down to smile at you. “I’m not stupid, I know what you want. You never do anything you don’t wanna do.” 

“I miss feeling put together. I’m not good at being me and being pregnant at the same time.” 

He takes your cheek into his hand. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but it’s not true,” he says, stroking his thumb along the line of your under-eye. 

You press your face to his chest. He keeps his hand there wedged between you, the other behind your back still. He murmurs to you softly, it’s okay, it’s alright, you don’t have to be upset, until your tears slow and your head is pounding but clearer for his touch. You hold your breath as he tips your head back, knowing you look even worse than when you’d begun. 

“I know it’s hard feeling out of control for you,” he says, voice dulcet, tone measured, “but you’re still just as perfect as the day we met. You don’t feel that way, but it’s true. And you’re so beautiful.” He couldn’t sound more in awe of you, then, his lips curled into a smile he can’t bite back. “Don’t think you aren’t. You’ve always had this aura around you and it hasn’t gone away. You walk into a room, and people just know it.” 

“Know what?” you ask, sniffling.

“That you’re amazing.” 

You can tell from his slight squint that he's aware of how saccharine a sentiment it is. You struggle to care, letting out a tired sigh as the warmth of his lips sinks into your cheek. 

“What should we do? Do you need to go back to the hotel?” 

“My feet hurt,” you mumble. 

You arrive at the precinct a terrible, inexcusable thirty minutes later than you’d said you’d get there, with a sweet baked good in a bag and Spencer’s converse on your aching feet. You’re smiling, to Spencer’s obvious relief. You feel better. 

“Sorry,” he apologises to Hotch. “My fault.” 

Hotch nods agreeably. “Yes, it is.” 

[strawbeelemonade]

ROMANTIC IMAGINE: Miguel O'hara visits you when you call in sick

i know how to write things other then headcannons i swear. theyre just so EASY. you can request actual fics lmao. promise! This was intended as romantic btw, but you can interperate this however you want!

WARNING: descripion of wounds/blood, description of burns, overprotectiveness,

Miguel lands on your balcony with a heavy thump, his landing was a little awkward from trying to swing with only one hand, but he managed well enough. The Tupperware in his hand looked a little worse for wear, though.

Almost every fibre of him wanted to turn around and forget about this, but he knew he couldn’t bring himself to, he needed to know you were ok.

You had called off sick from work yesterday, and you didn't show up today either. In all the time you were working at Alchemex you’ve never done that before. The secretary had told him you sounded like you were in a lot of pain over the phone, so it was obvious you were unwell in some way or another. He’s been worried ever since.

This felt stupid. Over dramatic, even. But he’d gone to his brother for advice, and this is what he had given him: Their moms classic Pozole recipe, The same recipe him and his brother ate while growing up. Obviously Miguel protested, adamantly. he hadn’t cooked for anyone in a very long time. He wasn’t even sure if he’d still be able to… His brothers response?

“Do you want my help or not?”

So Miguel scrounged around the kitchen for what he needed. He squinted to read his mothers old chicken scratch from all those years ago. He put in the work, as uncomfortable as he felt, And He packaged it and come all the way here.

And now he didn’t know how to go forward.

He had never felt more out of his element in his life. As he Stood outside your window with the soup in his freakish claws he realised he didn’t know where to go from there. He hadn’t thought further than this point. What would he say when he gave it to you? What would he even do after that?

He had to awkwardly shimmy through the window with the Tupperware in one hand, almost stepping on a cable stretching across the floor. “Fuck—“

the hinges creaking offensively as he pushed down your open window and he cursed, shutting it as delicately as possible. When he heard your voice ring out from behind him he tensed.

“Uh, Hey Miguel!” You call from the bathroom. He breathed out the puff of air he was holding in. No turning back now.

“…Hey,” he called, not knowing where to begin. “…I brought you a little something.”

He makes his way to where he heard your voice coming from, and pauses briefly by your kitchen counter. He looks down at the soup in his hands.

…He could just leave it here, that would be less humiliating for everyone, wouldn’t it? He knew you were ok, now. He heard your voice, so you were alive. He did what he came here to do. He could turn around right now and escape while you were still in the bathroom.

But something stops him. A little smell wafted by his nose briefly. It was brief. It was faint. But it was there and it made him pause.

So he sits the soup on the counter quietly, but he doesn’t turn around. He walks further down the hall and takes a deep breathe. The smell is clearer now. Miguel gets a bad feeling.

He picks up the pace and pulls off his mask to get a better whiff, and suddenly he’s hit with the all too familiar stifling stench of blood.

No.

NO!

“Y/n!” He runs up to your bathroom door and starts rattling the handle, but the door is locked. He pauses when he hears your voice on the other side, clearer and more effective at preventing him from tearing the door off its hinges—.

“D-Don’t come in!” You yell. “I’m... ngh- I’m a bit busy in here!”

“Y/n, what do I smell?!” He doesn’t need you to tell him, He already knows the answer. It’s pungency rings clear from his side of the door. The tanginess was so prominent that even someone with normal senses could pick up on it.

“N-nothing!” You stutter. You always stutter when you’re nervous. And when you're lying.

“Are you bleeding? Where’s it coming from? Open up!” He starts banging on the door again, his fist unintentionally rattling the frame.

“You don’t smell anything- stop that!” You snapped, annoyance ringing clear. But there was a certain strain to your voice, a painful whine that made his heart drop. “I-I’m just, uh- changing! will you give me a minute? Please, Miguel.”

“Don’t lie to me! What’s wrong, can you not get to the door?” He starts backing up to gauge the frame of the door and… Yeah, he could kick that in, easily.

sensing what he was getting ready to do, you spring up from your spot hunched over on the side of the bath tub and amble to the bathroom door. “No no no!” You lean against the door, heaving. “Don’t do anything drastic, I’m right here!”

He paused and waited for you to open it, but your hesitation makes him start losing his patience. “Y/n-“

“I’m ok, Miguel. S-seriously. I just took a little tumble on the way home.” You swallow back a painful grunt as you lean on the door frame for more support. “Look…” you started. “Now’s really not a good time—“

“Y/n.”

You shut your mouth. ‘Oh, shit.’

the tone of his voice hid a warning. Miguel knew what you were going to suggest even before you said it, and he refused to let you finish. The fact that you were bleeding as much as you were for him to smell you across the house, And you were trying to hide it from him? It must be bad, there was no doubt about that. His brain began racing for answers, for explanations, for names. He didn’t know where you were hurt, god what if it was somewhere vital? Who did this to you and where? Why were you trying to hide it? Did they threaten you? Something must of happened. there was no way he would leave you here, No. There was no getting rid of him now.

“Open this door.” He says one final time. And you can tell it’s the final time from the tone of his words. His voice quaked with fury at even the mere insinuation that he’d ever leave you when you were wounded. That you were even wounded In the first place.

“Now.”

...

There’s a beat of silence where neither of you say anything. And for a second he thinks he’s going to have to break the door open inwards just to avoid plowing over you to get it open. But then he hears you apprehensively turn the lock and he almost breaks the handle from how fast he rips it open.

You stumble a bit, reeling at his strength. and then youre taking a tumble from being thrown off balance, but before you can even yelp out a cry he swoops in to catch you in his arms before your body can even comes close to hitting the floor. “Lo si—! Sorry! Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

from being so close he could tell immedietely that you were running warm, did you really have a fever too? He perches you on to the toilet seat and you wince at the ache washing through your body. God, your back was killing you... and Miguel's hands were all over you. you tried pulling your arms out of his grip, but he wasn't budging. he scoured your front for bruises, cuts, anything.

"what happened, where does it hurt, Y/N, please." he lifted your arms, checking your sides. nothing there... You couldn't bring yourself to answer, all the jostling around was making you go really dizzy... so much so that his words seemed to bounce off your ears. you squint at him. were there two of him before?

"Oi, mami/papi. focus for me. tell me where your hurt." he pats your cheek, snapping you a little out of your stupor. you blinked. his faced was pulled taught with worry, lines creased his skin in places that looked almost painful. and his eyes...

"Miguel... hhhave... your eyessschanged?" you weren't sure if it was the delirium from the pain finally setting in, or if your bathroom light just highlighted the underlying hues, but his tired brown eyes had shifted to a shade of... dare you say red.

they flicked back to your face, they had this wild look in them, like he was angry. but his voice wobbled like he was scared. "tell me where the pain is."

"... M' back.." you mumbled. he tugs on your shoulder to twist you around, making you whine. he apologizes quietly, before turning back to the red stains that were crawling up the back of your shirt.

you both descended into a tense silence. Miguel looked cramped, hovering over you in your tiny bathroom. he had to draw in his arms to not knock into your shower. not the most ideal place to play nurse... but he would manage. Miguel unshealthes his talons and cuts open the fabric like its warm butter. all you feel is a cold draft hit your back, and you shudder.

when he gets a good look at the state of your back his heart drops, what he finds isn't what he was expecting. your lower back is marred with an explosion like mass of burned skin. the center of the wound is deeper and more bloody then the rest, like something fast, blunt and burning hot struck you there.

God.

"Y/N, what the hell happened?" he glances at your bathroom bin and spots your old, scorched shirt lying inside. so you really were changing... that explained why the shirt you were wearing didn't have a massive gaping hole in it.

"Lyla. whats the aetiology for this." she flickers into view next to him, screening your back, and she winces.

"the lascerations have been caused by 1st and 2nd degree burns, the wound has become infected and needs to be treated immediately. the depth of the wound is telling me that the collision was hard and fast, likely a projectile."

"they were shot?."

"most likely. not by any normal weapon though, obviously." she confirmed, "it... doesn't look like the infection has interfered with the spinal collum." she optimistically added.

"will it scar?" he tilted his head towards her, but didn't take his eyes off the wound.

the Ai assistant didn't respond, calculating the most nerve settling response to his question. her silence told him everything he needed to know. "yeah, don't answer that." a snarl was building in his throat, fighting its way to the top.

he spots the first aid bag and its contents sprawled across your counter. most of it was over the counter painkillers, light ointments and bandaids. nothing in there that would help you.

"ok." he drags his hand down his face looking around the room. "Hijo de puta-!" his fist banged against the wall in a burst of anger, the pathetic thin walls rattled underneath the force. "Y/N, what the hell were you thinking?!"

you were stuck in this apartment by yourself, barely able to move or, jesus, even think. the fact that he could have never come… No, that he had come but couldve left here without knowing you were going through this on your own... the thought made him sick. why did you let it get this bad? what had happened?

you don't answer his question, your breathing has started to grow heavier, fevered. the sheen of sweat on the back of your neck had grown thicker as well. miguel reaches out to hold you steady. his mind racing. you can't stay here.

he knows he has to make a call. literally. he lifts his watch to his face.

"Jess, get someone on the medical team to prepare for my arrival." he picks you up carefully and fights to keep his voice from rising, he wasn't thinking clearly. all he could think about was getting you somewhere safe.

it wasn't common for miguel to ask for medical assistance, even at times when he probably should. he didn't like calling for help, he prefered to do things on his own, even to his own detriment. the idea that something could shake miguel up like this, making him ask for assistance, was new. Jessica could hear the tension in his throat as clear as day.

"whats your condition." she responded, concern shining through in her voice.

"no, no. i'm fine." he answered. "i've got an injured with me, they've been shot and need first aid immedietely. its a second degree burn that been left for over 24 hours, its infected."

"...done." she answers. "are they a new recruit?"

"they're a friend."

Pozole: a traditional soup or stew that is made from hominy with meat, you can put in things like shredded lettuce/cabbage, chilli peppers, onions, garlic, radishes, avocado, salsa or limes. (this sounds scrummy ngl i'm so hungry bro)

"Lo siento": i'm sorry (this is when he goes "Lo si-" but cuts himself off)

"Oi, mami": hey, Mama (i learned that mami or mamita can be used in a lot of different ways. native spanish speakers can use it to adress parentel figures, friends that give motherly energy, or it can even be used as a funny nickname for kids. i've seen a lot of people use it sexually in fics, but apparently thats not always the case!)

aetiology: kind of like a diagnosis, but different. its the cause of a desease or condition. idk if it's applicable to wounds, though.

"Hijo de puta-!": son of a bitch-!

I put these here so if anyone has any corrections i could make to the terms I’ve used to be more accurate then I can change them accordingly. I used online translators and articles… if anyone has any good websites for translating languages let me know! i'd be really interested.

[theemporium]

[1.7k] travelling can be stressful, but it's a little easier when your swiss grizzly bear boyfriend is by your side.

.

It was stupid. 

You were fully aware it’s stupid. People liked to remind you how stupid they found it. It was something so, so stupid and being so painfully aware just made it worse. Because logic didn’t work, despite what countless people tried to tell you. Their reassurances and rationality didn’t help the way your brain spiralled until it could latch on to every single possible thing that could go wrong.

And you knew, nine times out of ten, nothing would happen. In fact, you could count on one hand the times your spirals had played out and became a reality. But that didn’t stop you having the spirals, and it didn’t stop the way your brain processed everything. 

Unfortunately, even your own common sense lacked in the battle between your brain and the anxiety travelling brought you. 

It was something you were mostly mocked for and, truthfully, you could understand their perspectives. It did sound silly when you tried to explain to your coworker the fact you couldn’t sleep the night before a journey, even if you had done it a million times before. It did sound dramatic when you tried to explain the fear a new destination brought you, regardless of how much research you did. But they didn’t get it, they don’t understand that voice in the back of your head whispering away. 

What if this is the one time something goes wrong? What if there is an accident?  What if something gets cancelled?  What if the traffic is worse than usual and you’re late? 

Random but burdening questions rattled in your head on the days coming up to a big trip. It’s why you hated booking them in the first place, because you knew exactly how you would react. And you told yourself it would be different, that you wouldn’t be so dramatic this time, that you could handle it.

And, without fail, you would find yourself sick to your stomach the morning of the trip, unable to stomach anything beyond a piece of toast (if you were lucky).

“Do you think you would know if I was replaced by an alien?” 

You blinked, taking a few moments to process the question before you turned to find Nico already looking at you, a contemplative look on his face. 

“What?” 

“Like, I’m sure you would notice but how long do you think it would take you to figure it out?” He questioned, his hand resting on your knee and lightly squeezing as he spoke. 

You stared at him for a few moments, trying to wrap your head around his question before you let out a breathless laugh. “What are you going on about?” 

“You looked lost in your thoughts,” he said, keeping his voice low so he couldn’t be heard above the music the taxi driver was playing through the radio. “I can see inside that pretty head of yours. You were spiralling.”

Your cheeks flushed in response. “I’m sorry—”

But Nico cut you off with another squeeze to your knee and a kind smile on his face. “You don’t have to apologise for it,” he reassured you. “I just wanted to help.”

Something in your chest tightened at his words. 

“For the record,” he continued, saving you once again when he could see emotions overwhelming your ability to speak. “I think it would take me five minutes tops if you got replaced by an alien.” 

You snorted. “What? Five minutes? There’s no way.”

“I know you, schatz,” Nico shrugged in response. “I would be able to tell.”

“Aliens could have crazy technology far too advanced for humans to comprehend,” you argued back and, for the first time since you went to bed last night, your brain was thinking about something other than long security lines, overpriced airport snacks and cancelled flights. “I could have been replaced by an alien months ago and you wouldn’t have realised.” 

“I would know,” Nico said, sounding far too sure of himself as he flashed you a smile. “I doubt aliens would know that you make a little sound whenever I–”

“Nico!” You hissed, your eyes widening as you glanced at the taxi driver with worry. 

And the fucker had the audacity to giggle in response as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, tugging you against his side as much as your seatbelt would allow. 

“I was just going to say when I tickle you,” he said with a shameless grin. “I don’t know what dirty thoughts are in your head, schatz.” 

You huffed, nuzzling further into his side. “You’re evil.”

“And you love me anyways.”

You rolled your eyes, but Nico knew from the smile on your face that he was right. 

You knew exactly what he was doing and, truthfully, you couldn’t even find it in yourself to call him out on it. Because it was working. Because he was Nico and he would deny it but he wouldn’t stop, even if you did call him out. Because there was a warm feeling in your stomach at the idea that someone—that Nico—cared enough to go out of his way to make you more comfortable.

Because he was Nico Hischier and he was just the kind of guy that went out of his way to make his loved ones more relaxed, to take on that captain role beyond the ice.

You barely got a chance to climb out of the taxi before Nico was already reaching for the bags in the boot of the car, pulling them out and only giving you the lightest ones he couldn’t physically carry whilst also holding your hand. You didn’t bother to hide your smile.

It was a feeling you didn’t have with many people. Or at all, usually. Especially when you were travelling. Your brain was working on overdrive, your eyes constantly looking around like some unexpected variable was going to throw your plans off. You couldn’t physically stop how wired and on edge travelling made you.

But something about travelling with Nico made it easy to just let your brain switch off. 

You were far too focused on ogling the way he casually carried more bags than one person should, carrying them with such ease that made your head spin a little. Far too focused on the way he guided you through the bustling airport, so sure of himself and so in control as he led you towards the front desk where you could check your luggage in and grab your boarding passes. 

You didn’t even get a chance to reach for your hand luggage before Nico took the smaller suitcase in his hand, his other hand on the small of your back as he led you towards security with no sight of the panicked rushing that you were used to. 

“Do you think aliens could make it past airport security?” 

You snorted. “Do not start this again.”

Nico’s smile widened in response. 

Security passed as quickly as one would expect for such a busy airport (meaning not very fast at all) but it was easy to not think too long about it when Nico was chatting your ear off with a million different topics. The possibility of missing your flight (despite being over three hours early) didn’t cross your mind as Nico scrolled through the endless TikToks Jack had sent him, or pictures Jonas had sent, already back home in Switzerland earlier than Nico.

“Here,” Nico called out to get your attention. 

You turned around, finding him reaching into his backpack before pulling out a bundle of fabric. You raised your brows in questioning but took it from him without second thought. It took you a few moments before you realised it was one of his hoodies. 

“You brought two hoodies?” You questioned. 

“No, one is for you,” he answered like it was obvious. “It’s your favourite one, too. I made sure not to pack it away in the big case.”

Your face softened in seconds. “Nico.” 

“None of that,” he murmured as he stepped forward, taking your face in his hands as his thumbs lightly skimmed along the apples of your cheeks. “I want my girl to be as comfortable as possible, okay? So, you’re gonna put that hoodie on, we are gonna get some food in you and then we can relax by the gate. I have card games and playlists and your kindle in my bag too, because you almost forgot to pack it last night. I made sure it was charged too.” 

Your eyes welled up with tears before you could stop yourself. “I love you.”

He beamed in response. “I love you too,” he answered before leaning down to press a lingering kiss against your lips. “And I cannot wait to kick your ass at the new card game Timo taught me on the way back from LA.”

“Oh?” You raised your brows. “You’re so sure you’ll win?”

“I always win,” he murmured against your lips, kissing you again before he pulled away. “I won you, didn’t I?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You’re so cheesy today.”

“You’re going to be stuck on a plane with me for the next few hours, better get used to it.” 

“I should have taken Jack up on his offer to go to the lakehouse instead,” you grumbled, but there was unwritten relief on your face as you wrapped your arms around his waist, leaning against him as he squeezed you closer. 

“You’ll love Switzerland far more than you would have liked Michigan,” Nico assures you, lips brushing against the top of your head. “The food is better. And so are the views. And it has something Michigan doesn’t have.”

Your curiosity peaked. “Hm?” 

Nico’s head shifted down a bit, his lips brushing against your ear as his voice dropped until it was a whisper only you could hear. “A cabin I booked away for the week, just for me and you. No city, no people. Just us, a lake and so many surfaces I can’t wait to fuck you on.”

Your cheeks burned as you pulled back, glaring at his smug expression. “Nico!”

“What?” He looked giddy, dimples popping and making your stomach twist in desire. “I saw those little dresses you packed, baby. Don’t think I won’t be taking full advantage of it.”

“You’re a menace.” 

“And this menace loves to make you come,” he retorted, quickly leaning down to kiss you again before you could reply. “Now, c’mon. We have plenty of time to kill and I even downloaded some movies Nina recommended. Everything is going to be fine, baby.”

And you were just so inclined to believe him. 

.

[hanglimi]

fireworks - yu jimin

y/n finally got to make jimin do what she wanted, and it ended in a night that the both of them would never forget.

this is a part two of this fic!

TAGS - jimin x f! reader, fluff, slight angst, college au

WORDCOUNT - 2500~

WARNINGS - swearing, suggestiveness, THE amusement park date,

A/N - heyyyy guys, i'm sorry i was gone for like a month and a half. will i ever be consistent? no! but atleast enjoy this fic!

“go on a date with me.” 

you know you didn’t phrase it like a question–if you had even wanted to in the first place. it was more of a demand, and considering the fact that the girl in front of you had practically offered herself up to you, of course you weren't going to ask nicely and give her the opportunity to decline.

“that’s all?” jimin wondered aloud, her tone made it feel like she was making fun of your request.

you raise an eyebrow, reaching your hand out towards her own, holding it briefly–as if to enunciate your feelings. 

“if you want it so bad i could ask for much, much worse.”

she flushed red at the words and quickly backed away from you, shaking her hand violently before hitting the wall behind her with the force of her unknown feelings.

“i lied!” she sputtered, hot on her feet, quick to take the elevator down to her level.

“i’m perfectly fine with just a date!” she yelled down the hall as she entered the metal box, not noticing the multitude of heads that turned to observe her odd behaviour.

“she didn’t give me her number,” you mumbled, shutting the door as you laughed to yourself due to her idiocy.

“i’m still trying to wrap my head around this,” aeri said, her eyes overlooking the school’s campus, deep in thought. 

“you’re going on a date.” there was a pause, then a slight laugh, “with y/n? the girl who goes for anything that moves?”

“it wasn’t really an option, aeri, more of an order.” jimin’s head was on minjeong’s lap, enjoying the security and comfort it was giving her in this time of need.

“and of course you followed because you like being ordered around,” ningning giggled, teasing her friend.

“yeah, jimin.” minjeong agreed, shaking her head. “you know you could’ve easily disagreed with her offer, right?”

“you guys don’t understand because you weren’t there standing in front of her. it was her tone of voice–the way she was looking at me, i felt like i was drowning in a sea of y/n-”

“that's enough.” ning drawled and rolled her eyes, “i don’t want to hear about your sexual fantasies.”

“it’s not sexual!” jimin stressed, getting up from minjeong’s lap with speed, smacking the poor girl in the face with her hair. “it’s just a crush. a school crush, to be exact.”

“and you guys have already progressed so far in the five minutes of seeing each other to be going on a date.” minjeong said, rubbing her cheek softly with a pout on her face in pain.

“who knew jimin had more game than me,” aeri sighed, looking up at the sky and wiping an invisible tear from her eye. she stood up suddenly, clasping her hands together to create an abrupt sound.

“so?” the group looked on at her in collective confused silence. 

“when is the date? we have to prepare you for this.” aeri paced around the group, staring jimin down.

“oh my god, i forgot to get her fucking number,” jimin groans in realisation, her palms pressing into her face as she let her head fall back down into the shorter girl’s lap. this time, minjeong pushed her away, not wanting a repeat of several seconds ago.

“well then go get it, dumbass”

you let out a deep sigh as you stretched, raising your arms over your head, hearing a couple cracks release in your body as the morning sun rays forcefully entered your room through one of the closed curtains.

it was one of those rare days– the days where you weren’t scrambling to throw a party later in the evening. the days where you realised just how lonely you actually were when people weren’t drinking or smoking pot in your room. it’s not something you were particularly proud of, but either way, it was the only way you had succeeded in making lasting friends. even though half the things you and your friend group talked about with red eyes and running noses wouldn’t be remembered the following days. 

but thinking too hard about it was making your heart beat weirdly, and your lungs take in smaller amounts of air, so you ignored the thoughts and rubbed at your eyes as you made your way to your couch to catch up with your morning doom scrolling.

ten minutes in, and you were somewhat interrupted by a knock at the door, one which started off timidly but gained in volume the longer they knocked.

“whoever’s there, there's no party today!” you yelled, hoping the message got across.

after a pause, the knock sounded again, as loud as the other one ended, and you grumbled as you got up to go open it and tell the person off.

an unexpected face appeared in front of you, and you couldn't help but let out a wide smile. you could feel her eyes raking your body up and down, and while you did like a little bit of appreciation, you didn’t like how your skin started to heat up at her gaze, so you stopped her drooling short.

“what a nice gift for me at 1 in the afternoon.” you said, jimin standing in front of you, her phone held tightly in her grasp.

she slightly untensed at your words, and cocked her head. “you look like you just woke up, but it's literally 1pm.”

“a girl does what a girl needs to do” you shrug in response.

she shakes her head, and instead hands you her phone, open to a new contact page. 

“a woman with such little words, but such big actions.” you giggle, grabbing her phone, entering in your contact information. “i can get behind that.”

you hand her phone back and she just stands there, looking anywhere but your eyes. 

you raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to leave you to your devices.

“so, what’s your favourite first date spot? food-”

“oh don’t worry baby, i’ll be planning the date. just sit tight as i figure things out.”

you regret all your choices as you frantically search up on google “first date ideas.”

it’s not that you’d never gone on a date before. (you had only been on one, and honestly, it didn’t really count because the girl had to leave early anyways.) it's just that you had never gone on a date with a girl you liked this much.

jimin was an enigma to your brain–like fitting a square piece into a circle hole. she turned your heart inside and out, twisting and wringing it dry, and it’d last you through the whole day. the small amount of interactions you’ve had until this point have kept an eternal smile on your face as you create scenarios in your mind before sleeping. it’s never been like this before, and it’s definitely stressing, and scaring you. 

the flirty facade you’d been using on her can only last so long. and you just know it’d run out by the time you're on this date.

“not what I was expecting when you said you’d plan it all out.” jimin marvelled at the amusement park in front of her eyes, twisting and turning rails high up in the sky. 

“is it not to your liking?” while the way you said it had a teasing tone to it, you genuinely felt insecure as she looked around, viewing the experience.

“you know that's not what i meant.” she said, turning towards you, and gazing at your outfit. you were simply wearing a pink shirt and shorts (quite short shorts, but shorts all the same), but the way she was eating you up made you feel as though you had shown up naked.

you simply pushed her limp body towards the ticket line. one; to advance to the actual fun part of the date, and two; to get her damn eyes off of you.

the night was young, and you could tell jimin was excited by the way she was pulling your hand towards each of the activities, the smile on her face never fading. the joy she was exuding was enough to make your night as you simply watched her like a puppy observing its owner having fun. 

she looked back towards you as she ran ahead, her smile so wide it made your own lips curve up. the wind was hitting her face, making her hair flow in the same direction–all that made her look even more beautiful in your eyes. the tight feeling in your chest hadn’t gone away all night, and it wasn’t something you were used to. it was annoying you, because every time you got near the girl, your brain short circuited, your breathing close behind. this wasn’t like you, but you couldn’t say that you minded that much.

“let’s play this one y/n!” the girl screamed ahead of you, using both her hands and jumping up and down to wave you towards her. you let out a breath of happiness, and increased your pace, ignoring the tug of your heartstrings.

“this one?” you coughed, analysing the game. It was one of those ones that were bound to scam you out of your money. completely impossible, but you don’t think that’s why jimin was so eager to play it. 

the aim of the game was that one person had to wear a blindfold, holding the water gun up to the target’s level. the other player was to stand behind them, listing directions for the shooter to listen to and follow. this wasn’t the complicated part of the game–the game in itself wasn’t complicated at all honestly, just rigged. the part that got jimin so excited, so bouncy and giggly, was where the player who was directing the shooter had to wrap their arms around the other’s waist. (they definitely didn’t have to, and jimin only told you the truth after finishing the game.)

jimin was standing very close behind you. you could feel her hot breath on your neck, the hairs all over your body rising at the feeling. the clerk at the game stood there, an eyebrow raised at the your positions, but started the game anyway.

miss after miss, swear after swear, and you had ended the game with 2 points. a high score and the only score for the both of you. the ghost of her hands were still around your waist as the clerk signalled the game ending. you laughed at a comment jimin had made as you pulled the blindfold off of your face, shaking your head to properly get your hair out of your face. she stopped talking and looked at you for a quick second, before looking away and pulling you towards another game, thanking the man that stood behind the counter.

the two of you didn’t notice the clerk’s slight smile as he looked at the both of you, giggling and running away from his stand.

“young love,” he muttered into the night.

"no ferris wheel?” jimin asked you as you urgently pulled her along with you. she had dragged you to way too many stupid rides and games. well, they weren’t stupid, they were actually fun, but the whole reason you planned the date here was going to happen soon, and you had no time to waste anymore

“too boring,” you said, glancing back at her. “and i may just be deathly afraid of heights.” she laughed heartily, and you couldn’t help but grin widely at that.

you finally reached your final destination, which was an area of flat grass, where hundreds of other people sat, preparing for the show. you led her far off from any other people, and helped her sit down on the ground before lowering yourself too.

“so what did you bring me here for?” she asked, a questioning look in her eyes. she had hope in you–after all, today was the most fun she had had in days considering the amount she was studying beforehand. the grudge jimin held inside from you blasting music all day long was practically long gone. it was barely a thought she even remembered after spending this night with you.

“you trust me, right?” you stared at her in the eyes, holding her cheeks in your hands. she felt them warm up at the contact and nodded her head. “then just wait and see.”

so the two of you waited, and waited for what felt like eternity–which you wouldn’t have minded spending with jimin by your side–before you could hear people shouting in glee. you pointed upwards, redirecting jimin’s gaze to the sky, just as the first firework popped.

honestly, you think you watched the girl’s face more than the actual firework show, but the way her face lit up at each one gave you much more joy than any emotion gunpowder exploding could evoke in your body. she turned to you after a bit, and you swore you saw tears in her eyes before she hit your shoulder lightly and told you to watch the fireworks too. you listened to her for about 5 seconds, before turning to her again, capturing her face and drawing it pore for pore, line for line in your mind. that’s something that no matter how high or drunk you got, you would never forget.

the two of you had large grins on your faces as you walked out the amusement park exit, hands ghosting on top of the other.

“thanks for, you know,” you stand there and don't extrapolate, rubbing the back of your head in shyly. for the first time, you weren’t able to look into Jimin's eyes. there was something about the girl–something that was making the person you’ve hid inside for so long come back again.

“why are you thanking me?” jimin said, perplexed, and she didn’t like how she was staring at the side of your face, not at all.

“just for, like, actually coming out with me tonight.” you let out with a suspicious tightness in your chest, the intensity of her eyes was too much for you at this moment. “it was a great hangout-”

“hangout?” she cut you off, a frown forming on her face. “the deal was a date. i came out here with the mindset that this was a date.” 

“well, it could totally be a date!” you waved your hands in front of her, eyes wide as saucers–your entire demeanour screamed asking for forgiveness. “i just didn’t think you’d want it to be one. considering this wasn’t really done out of your will,” you mumbled, finally facing your body to look at her.

“i could’ve easily declined your request, y/n.” she stepped closer to you.

“i did this out of my own free will, y/n. i did it because I actually like you.” 

you froze at the comment, and the heat that was spreading all over your body decided to come up to your face, causing your cheeks to flush and a smile to break through your tight lipped mouth. 

“i’m glad,” you whispered in her ear, pulling her towards you until she was flush against your frame. the square piece that wasn’t fitting before had finally forced its way into the round hole–and you couldn’t have been any happier.

“because i definitely like you too.” you finished, and you swore that that night, another firework–not included in the show–had blown up in your heart.

A/N - why did i write this like one of them was going to die 😭😭

[ruewrote]

𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒.

PAIRING: josh washington x gn!reader WARNINGS: josh breaks down to you, no use of y/n GENRE: angst but more fluff SONG INSPIRATION: lay it all on me by rudimental WORD COUNT: 2k REQUESTED: yes

navigation | ask | josh washington masterlist

it was well past midnight when your phone rang, disturbing the silence of your apartment. you groggily fumbled for it on your nightstand, squinting at the screen. josh. your heart dropped into your stomach.

he never called this late unless something was wrong. the sound of his name, even in the dead of night, was enough to pull you out of sleep.

“josh?” you answered, sitting up, suddenly wide awake.

he didn’t respond immediately. you could hear his breathing, ragged and uneven, like he was struggling to catch his breath. it was enough to send a spike of worry straight through you.

“josh, hey, what’s going on? are you okay?”

“i–” his voice cracked, and the sound broke something inside of you.

“i need you. please… can you come over?”

you were already moving, tossing off your blanket and grabbing your coat from where it hung on the back of your chair. “i’m on my way,” you promised, your voice firm despite the fear creeping into your nerves. “hang tight, okay? i’m on my way right now.”

the drive to his apartment felt like it took hours instead of minutes, the city lights blurring past as you pressed harder on the gas. your mind raced, a thousand scenarios playing out, each one worse than the last. you knew josh had been struggling lately.

old memories resurfacing, the weight of the past dragging him down. but he rarely asked for help, let alone called you in the middle of the night sounding so... broken.

when you finally reached his building, you sprinted up the stairs two at a time, barely pausing to knock before pushing open the door to his apartment. it wasn’t locked, and that only made your chest tighten with worry.

“josh?” you called out into the darkened space. the only light came from the city’s glow through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. you found him in the living room, curled up on the couch, clutching his head in his hands.

he didn’t look up as you approached, but you heard the sharp intake of breath as he realised you were there.

“hey, hey, it’s okay,” you murmured, dropping to your knees in front of him. your hands hovered over his, not wanting to overwhelm him but aching to touch, to comfort. “i’m here now. what happened?”

josh’s head snapped up then, his eyes wild and glassy. “i saw them,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. “they were right here. i swear i could hear them screaming... i can’t–” his words dissolved into a choked sob, he squeezed his eyes shut as if that could block out the images.

your heart clenched painfully at the sight of him like this, so raw and vulnerable. you’d seen josh put on his bravado before, cracking jokes and averting how he was feeling by making sure everyone else was okay. but this was different. this was the real him, laid bare and hurting, and it killed you to see the man you loved like this.

without thinking, you reached out, cupping his cheek in your hand. he flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

“they’re not here, josh,” you said softly, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone. “it’s just us. you’re safe.”

he shook his head violently, his breath coming in shuddering gasps. “no, i can still see them. it’s like they’re… they’re blaming me. i can feel it.”

“look at me,” you pleaded, moving closer until you were almost nose to nose, your other hand finding it’s way to his shoulder, squeezing gently. “it’s not real. it feels real, i know, but you’re here with me now. you made it through, josh. you survived.”

“i shouldn’t have,” he rasped, his eyes welling with fresh tears. “they didn’t, and i did. why do i get to be here when they don’t?”

“because you deserve to be,” you said sternly, letting the words hang in the space between you. you swallowed thickly, the love you held for him swelling in your chest, making your voice tremble. “i know you don’t believe that right now, but i do. and i’m not leaving you to fight this alone.”

his eyes searched yours desperately, looking for something to hold on to. “why are you here?” he asked, the question slipping out so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. “why do you keep coming back?”

you exhaled shakily, the truth sitting heavy on your tongue. you’d been hiding it for so long, burying your feelings under layers of friendship and concern, but now, looking at him like this, it felt right to tell him the truth.

“because i love you, josh,” you confessed, your voice breaking. “because i can’t stand to see you like this and not do anything about it. i love you, even when you’re hurting like this, especially when you’re hurting like this.”

for a moment, everything went still. you could hear the rain pounding against the windows, the distant murmur of the city outside. but between the two of you, there was only silence, a tense, fragile thing that felt like it might shatter with the next breath.

something in his expression softened, and his hands reached out, grasping your wrists like he was afraid you might slip away. “you love me?” he whispered.

“i do,” you nodded, feeling tears stinging your own eyes now. “and i’m not going anywhere. not tonight, not ever. i’m here, josh. i’ve got you.”

he let out a strangled sound, something between a sob and a laugh, and before you knew it, he was pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. you clung to him just as tightly, feeling the way his body shook against yours, the way his breath hitched as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“you’re too good to me,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your skin.

“no,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple, lingering there as you stroked his hair. “i’m just what you need.”

for the first time that night, you felt him relax, the tension slowly draining from his body as he melted into your embrace. you held him there, rocking gently, whispering soothing words until his breathing evened out, his grip on you loosening but not letting go.

“i’m here,” you repeated, the promise sinking into the silence of the room. “i’m not letting go.”

and you meant it, more than anything you’d ever said before.

the tension in josh’s body slowly faded away in your arms, replaced by a heavy, exhausted weight as the last of his sobs quieted. he clung to you as though you were the only thing keeping him anchored to the present, to reality. 

his breathing was still ragged, but it had started to even out, the frantic edge fading into something softer.

you shifted a little, your fingers still tracing up and down his back, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “let’s get you to bed,” you murmured, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

josh tensed for a moment, he wasn’t ready to let go, but when you started to pull back. he released you reluctantly. he wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand, sniffling. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice small and raw. “i didn’t mean to–”

“hey,” you cut him off, cupping his cheek and guiding his gaze back to yours. “you don’t have to apologise, not for this. you needed me, and i came. that’s all.”

he nodded, swallowing hard, his eyes glistening in the dim light of the room. you took his hand, squeezing it gently as you helped him to his feet. he swayed a little, unsteady, and you tightened your grip, steadying him. his fingers intertwined with yours almost as if he was afraid to let go, and it made your heart ache.

“c’mon,” you said softly, guiding him toward his bedroom. you led him to the bed, pulling back the covers before easing him down. he sank into the mattress, looking up at you with a vulnerability that made you want to wrap him up and shield him from everything that had ever hurt him.

you tucked the blanket around him, smoothing your hand over his chest as if you could soothe away the remnants of his panic. his eyes fluttered shut at the touch, a shiver running through him.

you slipped off your shoes and climbed into bed beside him, the mattress dipping under your weight. he rolled onto his side, facing you, and without thinking, you reached out, your fingers threading through his hair again. you combed through the soft, messy strands, gentle and rhythmic, he let out a deep sigh, finally letting himself start to relax.

you began to hum quietly, the familiar tune of a lullaby you knew he loved. a song you’d sung together on countless road trips, or played during quiet moments when the world outside didn’t matter. you felt the tension melt away from his body bit by bit, his sniffles becoming further apart, until they were just occasional, quiet sounds.

josh’s eyes fluttered shut, his breathing slowing, you thought he might be asleep. you kept stroking his hair, even as your own eyes grew heavy. the love you felt for him was a tangible thing, filling up the space between you, wrapping around him like a blanket.

you pressed one last, lingering kiss to his forehead, lingering just a moment longer than you probably should have.

“goodnight, josh,” you whispered against his skin, your voice filled with a tenderness you could no longer hide.

you waited a beat, your heart squeezing in your chest, before slowly beginning to pull back. you slipped out from under the covers, careful not to wake him as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. you had just managed to stand up when you felt a hand wrap around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“don’t go,” josh mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. his grip on your wrist tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you there, to keep you from leaving. “please stay.”

you turned back to him, your eyes meeting his. he looked up at you, his face half buried in the pillow, his eyes glassy and pleading. “i… i don’t want to be alone.”

your resolve crumbled in an instant. how could you possibly leave him when he needed you like this? 

you squeezed his hand in return, you nodded. 

the way he looked at you, the raw plea in his voice... you couldn’t say no.

“of course,” you whispered, a gentle smile tugging at your lips. “i’ll stay as long as you need.”

you crawled back into bed, settling beside him, and this time when you wrapped your arms around him, he pressed closer, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. his breath was warm against your skin, a soft, steady rhythm that matched the beating of your heart.

he let out a contented sigh, his entire body relaxing against yours. “thank you,” he breathed, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it.

you kissed the top of his head, your fingers resuming their soothing pattern through his hair. “you don’t have to thank me,” you replied. “i’m right where i want to be.”

he didn’t say anything after that, just nuzzled closer, the last of his sniffles fading into silence. you felt his breathing slow, becoming deep and even, and it wasn’t long before you could tell he was asleep.

you kept combing your fingers through his hair, even as your own eyes grew heavy, the sound of his steady breaths lulling you into a peaceful drowsiness.

you’d meant to stay awake, to make sure he was okay, but the warmth of his body against yours, the comfort of having him so close, made it impossible. you pressed one last kiss to his forehead, a silent promise that you weren’t going anywhere, before letting your eyes flutter shut.

and for the first time in a long time, you both fell asleep easily.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ @joshwashingtonmybeloved

© ruewrote 2024.

[mistiell]

When you're lost in the Darkness

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Summary: Astarion suspects that you're afraid of the dark. What he doesn't know, is that not only will he soon be proven right, but he severely underestimated just how severe your fear is.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, nyctophobia, brief description of panic attack, possibly ooc Astarion, literally one use of y/n

A/N: Hey hi hello, I am back from the void for now. I would like to make a disclamier: I have not yet played BG3!! So, if anyone is out of character, I apologize!

---

Astarion has a theory.

A small and rather unimportant one, but a theory nonetheless.

It started when he noticed the way you set up your bed roll when the group makes camp for the night. You’re always as close to the fire as you can be without lighting yourself aflame, and when it dims to a certain point, he’s watched you rouse out of a dead sleep to stoke the coals and add more fuel. At first, he thought perhaps you were just prone to chills – he knows some people run cold when they sleep – but after lingering after one of your shared nights together, he came to realise that you’re actually more like a mostly-human furnace.

Then he noticed the way you linger around any sort of light source like a moth to a flame after the sun has set, and the way you fidget and glance over you shoulder every few minutes on the off chance your back is to the darkness.

He finds it strange. Granted, he thinks you’re strange for a variety of other reasons, but this pattern of behaviour is particularly puzzling to him. Which has lead him to his theory;

“You’re afraid of the dark.” He jests after watching you glance into the woods for the umpteenth time, aiming for teasing and realising he’s missed when your face falls into something akin to shame and discomfort.

You try to cover it with a scoff, rolling your eyes in a way he knows is meant to feign indifference, “I have far worse things to fear than the dark.” You spit those last two words, as if they taste bitter on your tongue. Firelight dances in your eyes as you keep your gaze trained firmly on him, even despite how much you look like you want too search for whatever it is you’ve convinced yourself is out there, intent on disproving him.

“True,” He smirks with a practiced ease, suddenly – strangely – desperate to ease the tension he’s just created, “But should you ever find yourself too afraid to sleep alone,” He leans in just a smidgen closer, grinning coquettishly, “My arms are always open.”

You snort, the tension in your shoulders ebbing just so as you chuckle, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“By all means, keep me in your thoughts as long as you wish, darling.” He hums, smile just a little softer than he intends when you genuinely laugh at that, the sound sweet and airy as it bubbles up from your throat.

“And with that, I’m off to bed.” He nearly mistakes incredulousness for fondness, but catches himself as you stand. Turning back for just a moment, you give him a smile so soft, it makes is gut twist with a feeling he’s a little unsure of, “Goodnight, Astarion.”

If he’d fed more recently, he’s sure his cheeks would be flushed. He blinks, clears his throat, “Sleep well, my sweet.”

Only days later, his theory is proven correct when you stumble upon some sort of abandoned cottage – House? Astarion’s not entirely sure – and, upon Gale’s insistence that it could be useful, decide to search it for wares.

“You do know there’s likely nothing of use in here, don’t you?” Shadowheart sighs impassively as she thumbs through a tattered book, slotting it back into place where she found it once she’s deemed it useless.

Gale huffs and rolls his eyes, “Well, we won’t know until we look, will we?”

“We won’t be finding much of anything if you two don’t quit your squabbling.” You quip before turning your attention back to the chest you were searching. You just barely lean into Astarion’s space, grinning impishly. He leans in just a little closer – only to hear you better, of course – as you whisper, “They’re like children, I tell you.”

Something shatters. You both turn just as Shadowheart fixes Gale with a stern look, “Hells, Gale, pay attention to where you’re going!”

“Wh- It’s not my fault!” Astarion raises a brow at their bickering, tutting amusedly, “Children, indeed.”

Huffing a laugh, your attention slides to a door on the far side of the room and move to investigate. After trying the handle and finding it jammed, it takes a good shove to get it open. The only thing that illuminates the small pantry is the light filtering in from the door you’ve just opened.

You seem content to simply skim over the contents of the room from where you’re standing until you spot something of interest, eyes lighting up with a little gasp.

Astarion takes your place in the doorway as you rush into the room after propping the door open with a nearby pail, curious, “What have you found?”

Snatching a little tin box off a shelf, you open it and beam, “Oh, I haven’t had this in ages!”

“What?” He asks again, a little impatient.

You hold it out to him, and when he comes closer to look over the lip of the tin, he finds a fair amount of shredded, aubergine coloured leaves inside.

He looks back to you, confused, “Tea?” “Tea.” You grin, holding it up to your nose and closing your eyes to revel in the fruity scent, “I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s delicious.”

With how delighted you are over finding it, he doesn’t doubt it.

“Well, at least we can tell the others our searching wasn’t in vain.” He turns, “Settle that dispute between Gale and Shadowhear-.” The toe of his boot bumps the pail, sending it rolling as the door swings shut and swathes the room in darkness.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but eventually, the door comes back into view, only now the faded sage green paint is a dull grey.

Just as he moves for the door, he’s startled by the clattering of metal and a loud bump. He whips around to ask what in the hells just happened, but the words die in his throat when he finds you pressed flat against the shelves on the far wall – which really isn’t that far considering there’s only about six feet between the two of you. He can hear your heart racing from where he’s standing, your breaths quick and shallow.

That theory he had just got a lot more important.

He calls your name and you flinch, gaze flitting in his general direction but never settling on him. You look well and truly petrified. “Darling, are you alright?”

It’s a terrible question considering you are very visibly not alright, but he can’t seem to come up with anything else fast enough.

“I can’t–.” Your voice cracks and you swallow, looking dreadfully close to tears as you squeeze your eyes shut and cover your face with your hands, “I can’t see you. I can’t see anything.”

“Hang on,” After trying the handle, he finds the door is jammed no matter how hard he yanks. He considers calling for Karlach or Wyll, but thinks better of it, not wanting to frighten you further. They’ll notice the two of you are missing and come looking eventually.

“Astarion.” His name from your lips pulls him from his thoughts. He usually loves hearing you say his name, even when your cross with him. But when it comes out like a pitiful mix between whisper and whimper, he finds his heart twists uncomfortably in his chest.

He turns back to you and stalls. Unsure, helpless. He wants desperately to comfort you, but he has no idea how. He goes over the many different ways he could try, and the many different ways you could react, before finally, “Tell me what you need.”

After a moment of hesitation, you hold out a trembling hand and he steps forward to take it without a second thought. You tense when his skin first meets yours, palms wet with tears as your breath hitches. You tug him closer to wrap your arms around his middle and cling to him like a lifeline, shaking terribly as you bury your face into his neck. He secures you to him with an arm around your back and a hand cupped over the nape of your neck. He can feel your heartbeat stuttering under his fingertips when they settle over your pulse.

You’re still gasping.

“You need to breathe, lovely.” He says it gently, voice void of his usual coquettish flare. The nickname is softer than what he’s used with you so far, and it feels and sounds more earnest than it should. He tries not to dwell on it as he soothes his palm up and down the length of your spine, “Try to mimic me. I’ll guide you, alright?” You nod, and when starts coaching you through each inhale and exhale, you do your best to follow.

It takes several breaths, but eventually, they grow deeper and stop catching in your chest. Your heart slows. Not by a lot, but enough that Astarion can stop worrying that you’ll work yourself into a panic induced fainting spell.

He guides you through a few more before asking, “Better?”

You nod. With your throat dried out from crying, your voice is rather croak-y when you reply, “A little.”

“You sound like a frog.” It startles a laugh from you, the sound letting Astarion breathe a little easier.

“I do!” You sniffle, still laughing. It makes him laugh too.

“What the hells is so funny in there?” Lae’zel shouts from the other side with all her usual charm.

“Frogs!” Astarion shouts back, and you giggle a little more.

There’s a few loud bangs as one of your friends attempts to open the door. He can feel you flinch with each one until finally, it bursts open, blessed light washing over the two of you despite Karlach towering in the doorway. Your body sags with relief, and a little, involuntary sound escapes you as a new wave of tears threatens to spill, this time for an entirely different reason.

“What happened in here?” Gale asks, looking wildly confused as you slip out of Astarion’s arms and wipe at your cheeks hastily. “Oh, erm,” You clear your throat awkwardly, gaze bouncing between the items the fell when you backed into the shelf before settling on the tea leaves. You look genuinely disappointed as you gesture vaguely towards the small pile on the floor, “I found a tea I really like and got upset when I dropped it.”

“Ah. I see.” Gale nods, still obviously perplexed. If any of them find the explanation odd, they don’t say anything.

Shadowheart leans around Karlach, “We should get a move on. There are only so many hours before sundown.”

“Right. Yes, that’s a good idea.” You nod, clearly thankful for an excuse to get the hell out of there as you squeeze past them and lead them outside.

Much to Astarion’s chagrin, Karlach turns when she notices he’s hung back, “Oi, Astarion. What are you doing?”

He glances between her and the pantry before huffing, “Just... Tell them to wait a moment.”

She narrows her eyes suspiciously but agrees, leaving him to tell you and the others. He makes his way back into the pantry for a moment before jogging outside to join you.

It’s a good few hours until you make camp, and another few before he finally plucks up the courage to approach you near your tent.

You notice him striding over and smile at the sight of him, “Astarion! To what to I owe the pleasure?”

“I come bearing gifts.” He announces dramatically, hoping his puckish grin will be enough to mask how incredibly fucking nervous he truly is.

“For me?” You ask, cocking your head slightly to one side.

He rolls his eyes playfully, “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, would I?”

“Well obviously, I just meant–,” You huff and shake your head, chuckling incredulously, “Never mind. What have you got for me?”

He holds out the tin and watches surprise and confusion flash over your face in quick succession before something unbearably soft settles over your features.

Taking it from him, you’re quick to pop the lid off. You gasp when you lay eyes on the contents, eyes wide when you look back at him with such wonder, it nearly knocks the wind out of him, “How did you–?”

“I salvaged what I could off the top of the pile. I– erm,” He clears his throat, “I thought it would be wasteful to leave perfectly good tea behind when at least one of us could enjoy what’s left of it. Irresponsible, even.”

You huff a laugh. There’s no mistaking the fondness this time.

“You’re absolutely right. That would be irresponsible of us.” Your smile shifts into something heart achingly earnest as you step closer and lean up to peck his cheek, “Thank you.”

“Of course, love.” He’s aiming for coquettish but it comes out too sincere to be convincing. That feeling twists at his chest again and it’s only now that he realises what it is.

He actually, genuinely cares for you.

Rattled, he feigns a yawn and smirks, “Well, as much as I adore your company, I really must be off to bed. Beauty sleep, and all that.”

“Right!” You seem to startle yourself with your own volume and clear your throat, chuckling awkwardly, “Right, of course. Goodnight, Astarion.”

He takes a mere second to mull it over before he throws caution to the wind and cradles the side of your neck in his palm, thumb brushing the curve of your jaw as he presses his lips to the apple of your opposite cheek. Before he takes time to actually think over his new found feelings and potentially freak himself out, he’s going to let himself indulge in you just a little while longer.

Pulling back, he brushes the back of his knuckles over the skin he just kissed, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

He can hear your heart thump, thump, thumping as he walks towards his own tent. The feelings he has for you are a new and rather inconvenient development. But if later he finds that he doesn’t particularly mind?

No one has to know just yet.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

enemies to lovers w/ spencer reid plzz 💗

.⋆｡Whispers in the Dark｡⋆.

Spencer Reid x plus size reader

You and Spencer have been at each other’s throats for months and the team is sick of it. So while on a case in a conveniently tiny town, they do something to fix it

Warnings: usual cm warnings (kidnapping, murder, serial killer), enemies to lovers, one bed trope (i’m not sorry), confessions, little bit of partial nudity, Spencer and reader are horny for each other and neither know how to deal with it, implied smut WC: 2.4k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

If there was one thing that was a guarantee in this life, it was the DOCTOR (as he always liked to remind you) Spencer Reid would not keep his fucking mouth shut. You used to think it was endearing the way he so passionately spoke about anything and everything but after the 30th time he interrupted you (in front of every mind you), it got annoying real fast. And somehow, it was even worse today.

A series of kidnappings occurring in a small town in the middle of buttfuck nowhere that exactly replicated the town’s urban legend about a vengeful spirit killing those who tried to leave without offering sacrifice. Given your extensive knowledge on the development of folklore specifically tied to serial killers, it was an unspoken agreement that you would be taking the lead on the case.

But Reid had a very different idea.

“This is obviously someone using the story to get rid of people they have a vendetta against.” You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the young doctor. His lean body blocked the column of victim photos as he pointed to the map of the town beside it. He had drawn over several places with a red marker and although the abduction sites did fall into his contracted triangle of a comfort zone, something in your gut told you it was more than that.

“Look, I’m going to keep saying it. This goes way deeper. This has been happening for generations. 2002, 1985, 1968, hell even all the way back to the fucking 1820s! It’s either all 17 year olds getting killed or 17 people killed total each year it occurs, with it switching each time.” Spencer made a sound that was almost a scoff but with Hotch’s steely gaze fixed on the both of you, he covered it up by clearing his throat.

“Mark Adin was 18.”

“He turned 18 the day he died, Reid! And if you looked at his birth certificate, you’d see that his time of death was an hour before he would actually turn 18.”

“If you would just-“

“Alright!” Derek placed a firm hand onto Spencer’s shoulder, making him stumble slightly. “We get it, you’re both freakishly smart but I think it’s late and we all need some sleep.” He shot you a look as you crossed your arms over your chest, red hot anger and frustration still bubbling up inside you.

It always ended like that, one of the other members of your team stepped in before insults could be hurled (it’s happened once or twice before) and suggested a break while you and Spencer continued to glare at each other. He continuously undermined your theories and in return, you questioned his intelligence. 

“I’m sure Y/L/N will realise how ridiculous she’s being after some undeserved rest. I mean, when is she ever right.” Your stomach dropped and Derek’s smile dimmed for a second before he wound an arm around the young doctor’s shoulders and guided him out of the conference room the team had commandeered far quicker than he normally did.

You opened your mouth to shout something back at him but Emily grabbed your forearm before you could. “It’s not worth it.” You met her gaze and quickly deflated.

“Yeah okay.” She gave you a soft smile as you both left the room together, missing the weighty glance Hotch and Rossi shared.

——————

“I can’t believe that you and JJ are doing this to me,” you whined, hiking up the strap of your go-bag higher on your shoulder, “you promised last time that we had to share rooms that it would be you and me. I don’t want to get stuck with Hotch again, he snores like a fucking freight train.” Emily poked your ribs as she passed by, shooting you a mischievous grin.

“You were too busy flirting with Reid to notice us making sleeping arrangements.” You huffed and followed her out of the elevator.

“I wasn’t FlIrTinG with him and by the way, that’s disgusting you even thought of that.” The hallway was dead silent save for the faint buzz of the ice machine at the very end.

“Yeah, that’s definitely why you totally weren’t checking out his ass while he was setting up the white board.”

“Emily!” You hissed but she only laughed in response. 

“Come on, it’s so obvious that you like him! This childish rivalry you have is just sexual tension so for all of our sakes can you please just fuck him already so we can actually do our jobs.” 

“Alright maybe I would like him if he wasn’t such an ass to me all the time.” You conceded, earning you a sly grin from your friend as you both came to a stop outside your hotel room door. “But! He constantly undermines me and makes me feel like shit so it’s never gonna happen.”

Emily stood by her own door, her key-card already in hand. “And you love to rile him up. So, never say never.” And with that, she slipped into her room, shutting the door before you could retort.

You rolled your eyes as you unlocked your own door and stepped in. The shower was already running but what mainly concerned you was the lack of a second bed. You sighed heavily, dropping your bag on the empty side away from the door.  You were too exhausted and frustrated to even be mad about having to share both a room and a bed with your boss. Too exhausted in fact to notice the sweater on the chair in the corner couldn’t have possibly belonged to the older man.

Quickly, you stripped down to your underwear and slipped on your sleep clothes, figuring you could wake up early and shower before heading back to the police station. You sighed as you crawled beneath the sheets, the worn mattress immediately cradling your soft body.

Your eyelids had just begun to flutter shut when the water turned off. You turned onto your other side in anticipation of the bright light from the bathroom fully waking you up but what you didn’t expect was the accompaniment of the one voice you hadn’t wanted to hear until you had at least 6 hours of sleep and a massive coffee.

“What the hell?” 

“Fuck me.” You sat up and took in the sight of a very damp Spencer Reid wearing only a towel around his waist. You refused to look down at his naked torso (no matter how badly you wanted to). 

“You’re not Morgan.” He retorted.

“And here I was thinking you were a genius. Do you usually walk around half-naked with Derek?” He didn’t dignify you with a response this time, only grabbing his bag and retreating to the bathroom once more. As soon as the door shut, you launched yourself at your phone.

<I’m going to fucking kill you

>We’ve all packed noise cancelling headphones so don’t hold back ;)

>BTW before you even ask, there’s no more rooms available. Small towns are just great aren’t they

<I’ll get you back for this

>Sweet dreams

You could scream as you shut off your phone, Emily’s texts disappearing, leaving you staring at your reflection on the black screen. You should’ve known something was up when Hotch insisted that everyone take separate SUVs to the hotel under the guise of everyone splitting up first thing in the morning. The man was a fucking menace. 

The mattress groaned as you laid back down, far closer to the edge this time. If Spencer took your hint and just left you alone for the rest of the night, you would consider it an overwhelming success. This time when the door opened, the light was already off, letting you breathe a sigh of relief.

The bed dipped and your body tensed for a moment. You waited for him to speak, but when he didn’t, you finally relaxed. In the silence and darkness of the room, you could pretend that you were anywhere else.

“Will you stop hogging the blankets?” You knew this peace couldn’t have possibly lasted.

“If you had turned on the heater I wouldn’t have to.” You grumbled but still released your hold on the covers just enough for him to take some more of it.

“Not my fault you’re always freezing for no reason.” The blanket lifted from your leg as Spencer fully wrapped himself up. You sighed but decided not to pick a fight, Emily’s words still circling your mind. Instead you wrapped your arms around your stomach as you drew your legs up, curling around yourself. You just wanted to sleep.

“What, no witty comeback?” You sighed heavily and squeezed your eyes shut.

“I get that I don’t ‘deserve to rest’ but I’m exhausted Spencer. Neither of us want to be here so can we just try to get some sleep and leave each other alone.” Thankfully, he stayed silent, for a moment at least.

“You called me Spencer.”

“Oh my god, can you please just let me sleep? Yes I called you Spencer, it’s your name isn’t it?” You snapped although you knew what he meant. You had never even referred to him by his first name in the almost 18 months since you had been on the team, just the same as he did with you. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Fine.” You pressed your face into the thin pillow beneath your head, determined to finally fall asleep.

“No, Y/N I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did. There’s a lot of things I shouldn’t have said to you.” The bedsprings screamed in the quiet of the room and suddenly you could feel the gentle brush of Spencer’s breath along the back of your neck. You suppressed a shiver as best you could. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“Why are you bringing this up now? Are you trying to get laid or something?” Your tone held no bite but you could still feel the way he flinched. A sour taste bloomed in your mouth. “Sorry. For what it’s worth, I’ve been an asshole to you too.”

Tentatively, you rolled onto your back, your shoulder now brushing his. Soft light bled into the room from the light in the hallway, dimly letting you see his silhouette. Already, Spencer’s hair was a mess, different strands sticking up or to his face. His right hand rested on his chest while the left was by his side, barely a fraction of an inch from touching your own. He turned his head, making eye-contact with you for probably the first time since you had known him.

“Why— What did I do to make you hate me so much?” You muttered, suddenly unable to speak any louder than a whisper. You watched his chest hitch and then deflate.

“You didn’t do anything. I guess— it was easier to hate you than admit the truth.” The warmth of his skin made you breathe a sigh of relief as he pressed his hand to yours.

“And what is the truth Spencer?” Even in the limited light, you could see the way his eyes dropped to your lips. His lithe fingers curled around your wrist and gently lifted your hands so that it rested between your heads. 

“That when I’m around you, I can’t concentrate on anything besides how beautiful you are, how intelligent, how capable. You’ve had me wrapped around your finger since the moment we met and it’s angered me.” You didn’t realise how close you were to him until the tip of his nose bumped against yours. You sucked in a breath but it did nothing to ease the floating feeling in your stomach.

“Why’s that?” You were both now on your sides in the middle of the bed, on the edge of something more, if only one of you would fall first.

“Because I knew that the second I accepted it, there was nothing I could do to stop myself from falling for you, even if you would never feel the same.” 

You smirked. “And here I was thinking you were the smartest man alive, Dr Reid.” He pressed his lips to your knuckles with a smile and before you could tell him that he was wrong and quite frankly dumb for not seeing through you (like everyone else on the team did), his hand was on your jaw and his lips on yours.

You moaned into his mouth when he leaned onto you. You grabbed at his back under his shirt, your nails digging into the surprisingly well-defined muscles along his spine. Spencer’s head tilted, encouraging the kiss to become more passionate as his tongue traced your bottom lip. You tangled your fingers in his messy hair, tugging at it slightly as your mind began to go fuzzy with the lack of oxygen. 

Spencer smiled against your lips, placing two or three more soft kisses against them before rolling onto his back once more, leaving you breathless beside him. You followed him down, putting your head on his pillow. You stole another peck from him as he clutched at your wide hips.

“I can’t believe how long it’s taken us to finally talk this out. We were both being really stupid.” You giggled against his now swollen lips.

“Yeah we have.” Something tugged at your mind, breaking you away from the warm bubble of affection you were lost in.

You shot up. “What, what is it? Did I do something wrong?” Spencer practically pleaded, his hand tightly gripping at your thigh.

“You’re right, we were both being stupid! We’re both correct. What if it’s not just one unsub, but a whole family of them? 17 years between killings, Spencer!” Now it was his turn to sit up, his brown eyes wide with realisation.

“It’s a coming of age ritual. The unsub is killing people they know but under the guidance of the person that did it before them.”

“So the place where they’re keeping the victims before they kill them should be in the comfort zone and it should line up with all the past ones!” He beamed at you. “But maybe we should wait till morning to tell the others, they do need their beauty sleep.”

“And we don’t?” His hand moved higher, slipping beneath your sleep shorts, making you shudder.

“Definitely not.” You swung your leg over his hips and sat on his thighs, kissing him once more.

CM Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3sloth @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @midnight-shadow-va @mooniequeen @slutfor-fictionalmen @km-ffluv @black-rose-29 @minedofmoria @relatednative

Criminal Minds

@lokiandbuckysdoll

[ageingfangirl2]

A Hell Of A Promotion - Manjiro 'Mikey' Sano (Tokyo Revengers)

When you bump into the big boss, his attitude annoys you. Until he offers you a promotion, you can't turn it down. What exactly did you sign up for? Manjiro 'Mikey' Sano x Female Reader (SMUT) Bonten timeline.

*SMUT, Fingering, Oral, Blow Jobs, Degrading Names, Office Sex*

Word Count: 4603

It had been a long day and it was only 1 pm. You were walking down the sidewalk not looking where you were going, annoyed that your lunch break had been cut short. When you didn’t notice the dislodged slab until it was too late and you tripped. The coffee in your hand flies out in front of you, and your eyes widen in shock as it spills down the suit of the man directly in front of you.

This wasn’t any ordinary man, no, you recognised the white hair and menacing black eyes anywhere.

‘What. The. Fuck!,’ he growls, his voice deep.

You had just spilt coffee on the dangerous boss of Bonten Manjiro Sano.

‘I’m…so…sorry…’ you stutter, knowing your fate was sealed.

He looks at you with a glare that could cut through steel. His eyes narrow as he takes in your appearance, from your now dishevelled hair to your slightly coffee-stained blouse. He steps closer, invading your personal space as he towers over you.

‘You clumsy little fool. Do you have any idea how much this suit cost? It's worth more than anything you own, I bet. And now its ruined because of your carelessness,’ he grabs your chin roughly, forcing you to look up at him, ‘what are you going to do about it, hmmm?’

His grip tightens slightly as he waits for your response, clearly expecting more than a simple apology. There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes, a predatory gleam that sends shivers down your spine, even as your heart pounds in your chest.

‘Err let me get it cleaned for you,’ you offer, voice shaking.

He scoffs, releasing your chin and steps back. His haze rakes over you dismissively, ‘cleaned? Are you kidding me? This suit is beyond repair. The stain is too deep and the fabric is delicate. No amount of ‘cleaning’ will fix it.’

He reaches into his suit pocket and the breath catches in your throat thinking he’d pull out a gun and shoot you, but instead, he pulls out a business card and extends it towards you with a knowing smirk.

‘Here. Take this. It’s the number of my tailor. But don’t expect any favours, you owe me big for this.’

Mikey turns on his heel. Over his shoulder he adds, ‘And maybe next time, watch where you’re going before you ruin someone else's day.’

‘You don’t have to be such a jerk,’ you mutter.

He stops abruptly, whirling around to face you once more. His expression darkens as he stalks towards you, all the colour leaving your face realising you’d fucked up royally. He leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he speaks in a low menacing growl.

‘A jerk? Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea. I’ve been called worse things than that,’ his hand shoots out, gripping your wrist tightly as he yanks you flush against his body. You can feel the hard planes of his muscles through his shirt, the heat radiating off him in waves when you expect him to be cold.

‘But let me tell you something. When someone spills their drink on me, they damn well better show some respect. And right now, you’re not nearly showing me enough.’

You can’t help but look away from his intense eyes, not aware of your thighs clenching involuntarily. But Mikey notices your reaction and smirks wider, pleased by your obvious attraction despite your attitude.

‘Looks like someone is enjoying the view,’ he chuckles darkly, the sound sending another shiver down your spine, ‘well go ahead and indulge. I won’t judge…much…’

He leans in again, his warm breath ghosting your ear as he murmurs, ‘In fact, why don’t we take this somewhere more private? My office isn’t too far away, we can discuss repayment options for my suit…and perhaps explore other ways you could make amends.’

He tilts his head to the side waiting for a response. You usually weren’t this daring, but the air crackles with tension, heavy with unspoken possibilities.

You bite your lip, ‘I know where the office is, do you not bother to learn the faces and names of those beneath you? I’m the secretary at the main desk.’

He raises an eyebrow. A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face as understanding dawns, ‘The secretary, huh? Well, well, well. How delightfully...convenient.’

He takes a step closer, backing you up against the nearest wall. His hands come to rest on either side of your head, caging you in as he looms over you.

‘I must admit, I hadn't pegged you for the type to play hard to get. But I suppose that's part of your charm,’ his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers, ‘Tell me, little secretary...are you going to make me work extra hard to get what I want from you? Or will you give in easily, like the good little toy you seem to be?’

You shuffle nervously on the spot, knowing there is no way out of your current situation other than to comply, ‘I guess I did ruin your suit, and technically you are my boss and I do like my job…’

His eyes light up with a predatory gleam at your words, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs in a low, seductive tone, ‘Is that so? Well then, I think we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement,’ One hand slides down your side, coming to rest on your hip possessively, ‘You'll help me out of this predicament...and I'll ensure your position remains secure. Everyone wins.’

He nips at your earlobe teasingly before pulling back slightly, his gaze boring into yours with an intensity that steals your breath, ‘So what do you say, my dear secretary? Ready to seal the deal?’

You nod your head and utter a single word, ‘Yes.’

A triumphant grin splits his face as he hears your agreement. Without wasting another second, he grabs your hand and starts leading you swiftly down the street towards the towering skyscraper housing his company headquarters.

‘Excellent choice. You won't regret it, I promise.’ His voice drips with sensual promise as he guides you inside the lobby and towards the elevator bank. Once the doors slide closed behind you, trapping you alone together in the small space, he pins you against the wall with his body, one hand sliding up to cup your cheek while the other grips your hip firmly.

‘Now then, where were we? Ah yes...discussing terms,’ He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless and wanting more. As the elevator pings its arrival at the top floor, he breaks away with a smirk.

You pout, ‘how have you not noticed me? My desk is the first thing you see when you walk out of the elevator.’

Mikey chuckles low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as he holds you close, ‘Perhaps I've been too focused on running the empire to pay attention to every little detail...like the woman who's been sitting right under my nose all along.’

He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, his hand trailing down to weave into your hair as he gazes into your eyes with a newfound appreciation, ‘But now that I have, I intend to make the most of it.’

The elevator doors open, revealing the sleek, modern interior of his office. With a final squeeze, Kenny releases you and steps back, gesturing grandly for you to precede him inside, ‘After you, my dear secretary. Let's discuss those...repayment terms in private.’

You notice that his assistant isn’t at her desk and frown, ‘Where’s Mia, she likes good gossip.’

He laughs, a rich, velvety sound that sends a shiver down your spine, ‘Ah, poor Mia. She's been transferred. Thought it would be good for her to spread her wings, so to speak,’ he winks suggestively, though you weren’t sure if she was dead or alive.

‘Besides, I prefer my interactions with you to be...unfiltered,’ he steps closer, his presence dominating the space between you, ‘Now, about that repayment…’

He closes the distance, claiming your mouth in a hungry kiss that leaves you gasping for air. When he finally pulls back, his eyes burn with a fierce, carnal hunger, ‘I believe a demonstration of your dedication would be in order. On my desk. Now.’

He takes your hand, guiding it to the bulge straining against his trousers, ‘Feel that, sweetheart? That's what happens when a man gets excited. And trust me, you're the cause of it,’ he grins wickedly, ‘Now, are you going to continue stalling, or are you ready to prove your worth?’

Without waiting for a response, he spins you around and pushes you onto his desk, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of his body as he looms over you, ‘Let's start with a little exploration, shall we?’ His hands roam over your curves, mapping out the contours of your body with a possessive touch.

You gasp against each touch, ‘How exactly is this repayment?’

Mikey leans in, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he speaks in a low, husky tone, ‘This, my dear, is merely the beginning. A taste of what's to come,’ His hands slide lower, deftly unbuttoning your blouse and slipping inside to caress the soft skin beneath,

‘Consider this an investment in your future. By satisfying my desires, you're securing your place here...and maybe even earning a promotion,’ he laughs, nipping at your earlobe, ‘Of course, there may be certain...tasks assigned to you in exchange for your loyalty.’

He pushes your blouse off your shoulders, letting it pool on the floor. His fingers dance across the lace of your bra, toying with the delicate fabric, ‘Now, let's see what other secrets you're hiding under that prim and proper exterior.’

‘What kind of promotion, I’m not complaining sir, I’m just a little confused,’ you say honestly.

He smiles, a cold, calculating expression that belies the heat simmering in his eyes, ‘Oh, but you should be proud. Proud to serve such a powerful man as myself,’ he trails a finger down your cleavage, tracing the curve of your breasts, ‘As for your promotion...let's just say you'll have access to more...exclusive areas of the company. Areas where only a select few are privy to the inner workings,’ his hand slips beneath your bra, palming your breast with a firm grasp, ‘You'll be handling sensitive information, making crucial decisions that could shape the future of our empire,’ he

leans in, his lips brushing against your neck as he whispers, ‘And of course, there will be certain...personal duties required of you. Ones that demand your complete devotion and obedience.’

You gasp loudly and arch your back against his touch, ‘you mean the other executives? I heard a rumour that you’re all psychopaths.’

Mikey laughs, a deep, mocking sound that echoes through the room, ‘Psychopaths, hmm? Well, perhaps that's a bit dramatic. We're simply men who understand the true nature of power and aren't afraid to wield it.’ His hand slides down your stomach, fingers dipping below the waistband of your skirt.

‘And yes, you'll be working closely with them. They'll expect the same level of...dedication from you that I do,’ he grinds his hips against yours, the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your thigh, ‘But don't worry, I'll be keeping a close eye on you. Ensuring you meet their expectations.’

He pulls back slightly, his gaze intense as he studies your reaction, ‘Now, are you prepared to take on these new responsibilities? To become an integral part of our inner circle?’

Through the warm haze enveloping your body you manage to get out one last bit of attitude, ‘Do I get a pay rise, sir?’

Mikey grunts, amused by your boldness, ‘A pay rise? My, my, aren't you a greedy little thing?’ he Slides his hand further down, cupping your mound possessively, ‘But I suppose if you perform well enough, I might consider sweetening the deal.’

He presses two fingers against your clothed sex, rubbing slow circles that send jolts of pleasure through your core, ‘However, I expect complete discretion. No one can know about our arrangement. Your loyalty belongs solely to me.’

You hum, ‘So will I be servicing the other executives sexually or simply running tasks?’

He smirks, his fingers still teasing your sensitive flesh, ‘Ah, the naivety is endearing. In this world, lines blur easily. Your services will be demanded by all of us, in whatever form we desire,’ he leans in, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, ‘You'll learn to adapt, to satisfy each of our unique tastes.’

He pinches your clit gently, sending a spark of pleasure-pain through you, ‘As for me...well, let's just say I have very specific needs. Needs that require constant attention and gratification,’ he grinds his erection against you harder, the friction sending a wave of heat through your veins, ‘You'll be servicing me frequently. Very frequently indeed.’

You nod feverishly, ‘I look forward to finding out your specific needs sir.’

Mijey hums, pleased by your eagerness, ‘Good girl. I have a feeling you'll fit in nicely here,’ he slips a finger beneath the elastic of your panties, delving into your slick folds, ‘Now, let's explore these needs of mine, shall we?’

He thumbs your clit in time with the thrust of his finger, pumping in and out of your hole, ‘I want you dripping wet for me at all times. Ready to fulfil my desires on a moment's notice,’ he curves his finger to stroke your G-spot, applying just the right pressure to make your toes curl, ‘Can you handle that? Being my plaything, always available to sate my cravings?’

You grip the front of his shirt and throw your head back panting, ‘I can try.’

He groans approvingly, his need spiking at your eager response, ‘That's it. Show me how much you want this,’ his fingers move faster, plunging deeper as he pinches your clit harder, drawing a sharp cry from your lips.

‘I'll teach you to crave my touch as much as I crave yours. To beg for it, plead for release,’ he captures your mouth in a brutal kiss, tongue invading, claiming every inch as his own, ‘You'll be addicted to me, body and soul. And I'll make sure you never forget whose cock is filling you, whose fingers are stroking your pussy.’

He breaks the kiss, panting heavily as he stares down at you with a predatory gleam in his eyes, ‘Now, let's see how quickly you can learn to please me. Strip for me, Slowly and get on your knees.’

You get off the desk, your legs feeling like jelly, but do as you’re told, removing each item one by one until you��re down to your birthday suit. This whole situation wasn’t normal, but there was no denying how much you were enjoying this. You get down on your knees and chew your lip keeping your head bowed, ‘I’ve never actually sucked anyone off before sir, I’ve only seen it in videos.’

He eyes you hungrily, drinking in the sight of your naked form, ‘Don't worry about doing it 'right' there's no script, no rules here. Just follow your instincts, and surrender to the moment.’

He steps closer, towering over you as you kneel on the plush carpet, ‘Look at me, keep eye contact,’ he reaches down, wrapping a hand around your throat in a gentle yet assertive grip, ‘Breathe for me. In and out, nice and slow.’

He leans in, his breath ghosting over your cheek as he whispers, ‘You're so fucking beautiful like this. A pretty little toy, just begging to be played with,’ he squeezes your throat slightly, watching your pulse flutter, ‘Now, open your mouth. Wide.’

He guides your trembling hands to his belt buckle, helping you undo it with impatient fingers. Steps out of his pants, freeing his massive erection. It throbs in the cool air, already leaking precum, ‘See what you do to me? How hard you make me?’ he wraps a hand around the base, giving himself a few strokes.

‘Now, put that pretty mouth to use. Suck my cock like you mean it,’ he tangles his fingers in your hair, guiding you closer until the head of his dick brushes your lips, ‘Take it deep, choke on it if you can.’

You lick the precum before taking him slowly into your mouth, not used to being filled this way.

Mikey groans as your warm mouth envelops him, head falling back in bliss, ‘Fuck, that's it. Just like that,’ his hands tighten in your hair, holding you steady as he starts to rock his hips, pushing himself deeper into your throat.

‘Take it all, baby. Relax your jaw, breathe through your nose,’ he pumps faster, relishing the way your throat constricts around him, ‘Goddamn, you were made for this. Made to choke on my cock.’

He looks down at you, eyes dark with lust, ‘You love this, don't you? Love being used, degraded, treated like a set of holes for me to fuck,’ he yanks your head back suddenly, saliva connecting your lips to his dick.

‘Tell me how much you love it, Beg for more,’ he demands.

You look up with tear-filled eyes, ‘I love it…I need more…please use me…I’m nothing without you using me.’

He smirks wickedly, loving the desperation in your voice, ‘Nothing, huh? Just a set of holes for me to ruin?’ He shoves his cock back into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat harshly, ‘Then take it, whore. Take every fucking inch.’

He holds your head still, slamming into you relentlessly, grunting with each thrust, ‘Such a good little cocksucker. Milk me dry with that slutty mouth,’ he angles his hips, grinding against your face, smearing precum across your cheeks.

‘Fuck, I'm getting close. Swallow it all, every last drop,’ he ruts into you wildly, chasing his impending orgasm, ‘Here it comes, bitch. Fuck!’ he bursts down your throat with a guttural moan, flooding your mouth with his seed.

You try your best to swallow every last drop and continue sucking slower waiting for him to come down from his high. He exhales shakily, chest heaving, ‘now you clean me up,’ he gently pulls out of your mouth, letting his cock slip from between your lips with a pop, ‘use your tongue and lap up every drop you left.’

He watches intently as you obediently start cleaning him, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips, ‘That's it, be thorough. Make sure you get every bit of my essence off your face.’

He steps back, allowing you to stand and finish the task.

‘Once you're done, get on the desk. Spread your legs for me and present yourself like a good little slut,’ he walks away and around his desk to take his seat, leaning back in his chair as he waits for you to comply.

You quickly clean yourself and get up with shaky legs, using the desk behind you as some support. Of course, Mikey wasn’t going to help you. You walk around the desk and manage to sit on it directly in front of where he sits, you spread your thighs and use your hands to support yourself. Mikey rolls the chair forward and runs a finger down your inner thigh causing your legs to tremble, ‘beautiful’ he murmurs.

He dips his head, dragging his tongue across your slit teasingly, ‘I’m going to feast on your sweet cunt.’

He laps at your folds, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, ‘Let me hear those pretty moans as I devour your pussy,’ he seals his lips around your clit, sucking hard as he slides two fingers inside you.

‘Ahhh... oh god... yessss... please don't stop…’ you arch your back, pushing your hips against his face as he eats you out intensely. Your hand's fist in the desk as pleasure crashes through you, ‘More...Mikey...please...I'm so close…’

He growls against your slick flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you, ‘Come for me then. Drench me in your juices as I finger-fuck this greedy cunt,’ he pumps faster, curling his digits to hit your G-spot with ruthless precision.

‘Shout louder, let everyone hear what a shameless slut you are for me,’ he scissors his fingers, stretching you deliciously as he continues his assault on your sensitive bud, ‘Come on, give it to me. Scream my name as you fall apart,’ He nips at your clit sharply, sending you hurtling towards oblivion, ‘Now, Cum NOW!’

‘AHHHH!!! MIKEY!!!! OH MY GODDD!!!’ Your entire body convulses as an earth-shattering orgasm rips through you. Your pussy clamps down on his fingers as you squirt all over his hand and face. You collapse onto the desk, gasping for air, your skin flushed and tingling all over, ‘Holy shit... that was... incredible…’

He licks his lips, savouring your sweet nectar as he slowly withdraws his fingers from your fluttering hole. Sits back on his heels, admiring the sight of you sprawled out before him, thoroughly debauched, ‘Look at you, utterly spent and satisfied. All because of me.’

He wipes his face with a handkerchief before tucking it away, ‘But we're far from finished, pet,’ he grabs your ankles, pulling you roughly to the edge of the desk, ‘I'm nowhere near done with you yet,’ he lines himself up with your entrance, rubbing the head of his cock through your soaked folds, ‘Ready for round two?’ he asks with a wicked grin, knowing full well you have no choice but to submit to him again and again.

‘Yes... I'm ready... I'll always be ready for you…’ You pant out, your body already aching for more despite the mind-blowing orgasm you just had. You spread your legs wider in an invitation, completely surrendered to your will, ‘Take me, Mikey. Ruin me’

Mikey smirks triumphantly at your complete submission, revelling in the power he holds over you, ‘Good girl,’ he grips your hips bruisingly tight, positioning himself at your entrance, ‘Brace yourself, I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't be able to walk straight for days,’ he slams into you with one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt in your tight heat.

‘FUCK! Still so fucking tight after all that,’ he growls and sets a punishing pace, pounding into you mercilessly, ‘This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be claimed, owned, used for my pleasure alone,’ he reaches down, rubbing your clit roughly as he rails you, ‘Scream for me, let me hear that pretty voice as I split you open on my cock.’

‘AHHHHH!!! YES!!! JUST LIKE THAT!!! HARDER!!! USE ME MORE!!!’ you scream out in ecstasy, your nails raking down his back as he ravages you. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist, urging him deeper as your pussy clenches greedily around his pistoning shaft, ‘OH GOD...YOU FEEL SO GOOD...I LOVE YOUR COCK...I'M YOURS...PLEASE DON'T STOP!!!’ You babble incoherently, lost in a haze of pleasure and pain, completely consumed by the primal act of being taken so forcefully.

Mikey groans loudly, feeling your walls flutter and spasm around him as he drives into you with reckless abandon, ‘That's right, take it all, you filthy whore,’ he crashes his mouth against yours in a rough, dominating kiss, swallowing your screams as he fucks you senseless.

‘You were made for this, for being used as my cum dump,’ he breaks the kiss, panting heavily as he gazes down at you with a sadistic gleam in his eyes, ‘I can feel you getting closer, can't you? Your cunt is squeezing me so tightly, begging for release.’

He slaps your ass hard, leaving a bright red mark, ‘Well, beggars can't be choosers. When I fill you up with my seed, you'd better milk it for all it's worth. Every last drop belongs inside this greedy little hole.’

‘YES!! FILL ME UP!! I WANT IT ALL!!!’ you wail, your body shaking uncontrollably as another massive orgasm builds within you. The intensity of his words, the sting of his slap, the relentless pounding of his cock - it all pushes you over the edge, ‘OH FUCK... I'M COMING AGAIN!!! MIKEY!!!’ your pussy spasms wildly, gushing around him as you come undone once more under his brutal domination.

Mikey snarls in satisfaction as he feels your climax crash over you, milking his cock for every ounce of pleasure, ‘That's it, squeeze me dry, you insatiable slut,’ he pounds into you furiously, chasing his own release as your velvety walls rip through him.

‘Fuck, here it comes…’ With a guttural roar, he slams deep one final time, erupting inside you in a torrent of hot, thick cum, ‘TAKE IT! EVERY LAST DROP!’ he grinds against you, ensuring his seed coats your insides thoroughly as he rides out the waves of his orgasm.

‘Thank god for birth control. If this is what you're like, what about the other executives?’ You somehow manage to speak, panting and voice hoarse.

Mikey smirks, a dark glint in his eyes, ‘Oh, they're nothing compared to me. They might think they're powerful and in charge, but they don't have the same...drive. The hunger. The thirst for absolute control. They can never match up to what I am capable of. And you, my dear, are going to see that firsthand.’

You shudder slightly, both aroused and unnerved by the intensity of his words. There's something deeply unsettling about the way he talks, like there's a darkness lurking beneath the surface that could consume you entirely if you let it. Yet, the thought only makes you wetter, your core throbbing with need.

‘What do you mean? What exactly are you capable of?’ you ask breathlessly, your heart racing as you await his response, simultaneously dreading and craving whatever twisted desires he may unleash upon you.

Mikey leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, ‘I'm capable of things that would make even the most depraved minds recoil in horror. Dark pleasures, forbidden desires, the kind that can only be satiated by those who dare to embrace their inner demons.’

He trails a finger down your cheek, his touch chilling despite the heat of our bodies entwined, ‘With you, I can indulge in these vices without restraint, safe in the knowledge that you crave them just as much as I do. Together, we'll descend into the depths of depravity, lost in a world where pleasure and pain are indistinguishable.’

He pulls back, his gaze piercing and intense, ‘So, are you prepared to surrender yourself fully to me, to become my willing plaything in the pursuit of these twisted delights?’

‘As long as I still have a job, I think I can adjust,’ you answer, not sure if it was out of honesty, fear or lust.

Mikey chuckles darkly, a sound that sends shivers down your spine, ‘Oh, you'll have a job alright. One that suits your...unique talents. And if you ever think of leaving, well, let's just say I have ways of making sure you stay put.’

He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless, ‘Now, let's get cleaned up and ready for round three, shall we? I've got a few toys I want to introduce you to,’ he winks, a sinister promise in his eyes.

[apute11as]

Everything happens for a reason part 3 - Alexia putellas x pregnant!reader

Author note- hey guys here’s part 3! Hope you are enjoying the series! Please leave a comment with any feedback (positive or otherwise) it’s always helpful 🤍🤍

Warnings⚠️ swearing (that’s about it I think) it’s mostly angst

————

Part 1- https://www.tumblr.com/apute11as/733631966220582912/everything-happens-for-a-reason-alexia-putellas

Part 2- https://www.tumblr.com/apute11as/735082085825576960/everything-happens-for-a-reason-part-2-alexia

—————

The next day rolled around fairly quickly as you and Alessia had made a brief exit, claiming travel sickness to be the cause of your tearful exit from the room. As you woke up the next day you were met with the sound of a blaring alarm that read 6:30am.

Groaning you began to trudge out of bed, as Alessia did the same from the other bed.

“What are you doing?” Rung Alessia’s sleepy voice.

“Getting ready for training?” you said, puzzled.

“Oh are you sure you want to play, do you feel well?” questioned the striker

“yeah surprisingly I feel alright this morning” you smiled but you were soon cut off by a harsh ringing of your phone and were met with Alexia’s face plastered across your screen. You hesitated at first but then clicked the green button.

“Bon dia mi amor, I was starting to this you weren’t awake” came the a husky, Catalonian voice.

“Hey baby yeah I’m up sorry just misplaced my phone.” you assured her.

“How is camp are you feeling better now?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if maybe you should just share your concerns with your wife, knowing that she could potentially offer clarity. However you ultimately decided against it as you had your mind set on attending the World Cup and playing as much as possible. Your mind wandered as you began working it out in your head, realising that by the end of the tournament, you’d be almost 3 months pregnant which would likely carry risks when you played.

“Princesa? Are you still there?” your wife questioned with worry.

“Lo siento Ale I’m here, I’m just so tired sorry my mind isn’t focusing.” you offered

“I understand bebita, I’ll call you back later vale?” the Spaniard inquired.

“Sí of course I’ll call you after training, te quiero mucho Alexia.” you voiced

“I love you too amor.” she replied blowing a kiss at the screen, which you returned before ending the call.

“You ok?” Asked Alessia with a pitiful smile.

“Yeah I’m good. Thank you Less I really mean it.” you replied

“always and we’ll get the test later to calm your mind down” she smiled

———

The morning had been relatively smooth, with minimal nausea and training with the girls had even distracted you completely for a number of hours- something that you welcomed with open arms. During the rondo is when it all started to take a turn for the worse. You felt yourself growing more easily tired than usual, struggling to catch your breath after a run down the wing, the sick feeling started to form.

You’d been stood in a small huddle half way through the drill when you felt the bile begin to rise in your throat and before you knew it you were making a run to the changing rooms and throwing up in the nearest bin. Alessia and Mary were close behind and you felt a hand rubbing up your back as you dry heaved into the bin.

“come on y/n we’re going to get the medicine” said Alessia

“what medicine?” you questioned, whilst attempting to regain your composure.

“You know what we talked about getting at lunch? To cure your illness” she said through gritted teeth as your mind finally caught up.

“Ohh ok yes sorry” you replied, eyes darting between her and Mary.

“What’s up with you?” Asked Mary, concerned.

“Just the flu we think” you answered, stoically.

“Should you be playing??” She urged

“Probably not but I didn’t want to worry anyone” you lied about your condition

“Y/N your health should come first always!” Mary insisted.

“Sorry Mar it will next time I promise” you offered, which seemed to be enough for you as she allowed you and Alessia to leave, whilst she told the team of your suspected flu- an answer they gave little question to.

———

The journey to the shop was brief. You slipped in with hoods up and made sure to use self checkout to minimise the risk of being spotted because what a scandal that would cause.

Once you returned to your shared room, the two of you made your way to the bathroom, carrying three different brands of pregnancy test in your bag.

“Do you want to do them all at once?” Alessia inquired.

“I mean I doubt I have the pee control to do it any other way” you replied, attempting to lighten the tense mood.

You sat down on the toilet and held the tests below you as Alessia turned to face the door. Once you’d taken them, you turned all three face down on the counter and the two of you sat on the stone floor of the bathroom with a 5 minute timer on Alessia’s phone. Your mind wandered to your wife in Spain as the guilt crept in about keeping this potentially life changing moment from her.

Before you could get too absorbed in your thoughts, the timer sounded signifying it was time to check the tests.

“you’ve got this.” Reassured the blonde with a small smile.

“3, 2, 1” you rehearsed before flipping the text.

First one: positive

Second one: positive

Third one: positive

“Oh shit” Alessia voiced.

“Oh shit indeed.”

“What are you gonna do? Shall I get your phone I can leave whilst you call alexia?” Said the striker.

“No. She can’t know.” You responded emotionlessly.

“What why not?” Alessia questioned, shock evident in her tone.

“She’ll stop me from playing Alessia. I have to play! By the time it’s noticeable the World Cup will be done and I’ll tell her then to cheer her up if neither of us win it or to add fuel to the celebration if one of us does. Oh my god what if she’s not happy?” your breathing picks up rapidly “she wanted the baby before but what if she’s changed her mind Alessia?” Your breathing was becoming frantic.

“Calm down y/n/n breathe just breathe” Alessia said putting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“I can’t Alessia! What if she leaves me? I can’t raise a baby on my own!” You began to hyperventilate, reaching a state of full blown panic.

“Y/n you need to breathe ok, we can sort all that after, you don’t need to tell alexia today just calm down, breathe, think of the baby ok, breathe for the baby!” Alessia urged.

“Ok ok” you said steadying your breath, Alessia’s grip on your shoulders grounding you.

“You feeling calmer now?” questioned the blonde.

“Yes thank you Alessia it really means a lot” you smiled, hugging the younger girl.

——

The first game of the tournament came around fast. With it being Haiti, you weren’t too concerned as they hadn’t been an especially tough team in the past. You still hadn’t told Alexia about the pregnancy. Although Alessia had managed to convince you to see a doctor, luckily she wasn’t a football fan so had no idea who the two of you were, and much to your amusement she confused you as a couple which sent the two of you into fits of giggles, before correcting her. You and Alexia still kept in contact, she’d noticed something off with you but each time she’d brought it up, you shut her down with and blamed it on fatigue. She wasn’t stupid and didn’t buy a word of it but she also knew you’d tell her in your own time, whatever it was so she didn’t push.

When sarina announced you to be in the starting eleven you sighed heavily, realising that the game would be tougher than anticipated. What’s more, you were playing centre back. Normally, you played CDM or on occasion CM but with Leah out and Millie having picked up a light injury in training, England were short on reliable centre backs.

As the whistle sounded to signify the start of the match, you drew a sharp breath in anticipation of the difficulty these next 90 minutes would prevail.

—

Half time came around eventually. After a gruelling first half, you welcomed the break. You were leading 1-0 only thanks to a penalty from Georgia, which wasn’t overly comforting as Haiti were putting up a fair fight. You were forced to make some risky tackles, many of which ended up with you on the floor, body twisted at awkward angles. This did nothing to help Alessia’s growing anxiety for you. She’d become protective over you as she felt partially responsible, being the only one who knew about the pregnancy still. Every time you’d gone down with a challenge, she’d been by your side, checking you over (despite being practically on opposite ends of the pitch).

What you didn’t know was that Alexia was sat in a hotel room, watching every interaction and was beginning to grow suspicious of your new found closeness to the blonde striker. Lingering touches which to you and Alessia were nothing more than her checking on you and the baby, to Alexia were symbols of a growing affection between the two of you. Her jaw remained clenched at every interaction.

——

The game ended 1-0. A tight win but the three points were yours nonetheless. Your body ached all over. As you headed for the coach in a slumped motion due to the fatigue, you were stopped with a warm hand on your shoulder, one that belonged to Lucy Bronze.

“Hey Luce are you ok?” you sighed out.

“I’m alright Mrs putellas but are you?” She asked with concern. You cringed at the nickname she gave you before responding.

“Tough match that’s all, why do you ask?” you inquired with a furrowed brow.

“Alexia told me you weren’t yourself lately, asked me to check up on you. Oh and also I was quite concerned to hear that you didn’t tell her about your quite awful round of the flu the other week?” she questioned

“Oh erm must of slipped my mind?” You offered weakly.

“Yeah I’m sure, what’s really up Y/N?” Questioned the brunette.

“I-I can’t tell you” you stuttered, eyes damp with tears that threatened to fall at any moment.

“Why not, you know you can trust me with anything?” she said, face contorted with a mixture of confusion and hurt.

“I know Lucy and I love you for it but it’s personal I’m sorry.” you half smiled at her

“Yeah yeah I get that, you don’t have to tell me but you should really tell your wife.” She rebounded.

“No she can’t know!” You said on reflex, as though you were talking about it to Alessia.

“Know what? Y/N I’m worried now what’s going on?” Lucy pushed further.

“Y/N” called Alessia, jogging towards the two of you. “Are you coming?” She gestured to the bus.

“Yeah of course.” You smiled at the striker. Lucy however, didn’t miss the relaxation of your body at Alessia’s presence. Making a mental note to bring this up when Alexia called again.

——

Alexia’s POV

Y/N has been off with me for weeks. Ever since that day she left for the World Cup, she’s been so distant. At first I thought it was to do with us being rivals at the World Cup but now I fear there’s something more.

After watching her game against Haiti, I noticed her closeness with Russo, England’s young striker. My stomach twisted in discomfort as I watched them interact, Y/N responding to her touch in the way she’d normally only do for me. Jealousy rippled through me, could it be? Is this why she’s been off with me? Was my wife really cheating on me with her teammate?

Back to neural POV

Frantically, Alexia called Lucy for the second time this week. After a few rings she picked up.

“Hola Capi” sounded the English- twinged Spanish of Lucy bronze.

“Hola Lucia, well done on the game”

“Gracias Alexia? Not to be rude but why are you calling me?” She questioned

“Has Y/N been acting weird at all?” She asked simply

“Funny you say that she was being odd earlier. She seemed sad so I asked her what was up and I got minimal response but then I got her to crack a little. She told me there was something but she couldn’t tell me. Then Alessia came along and grabbed her to go to the bus. They spent the whole journey whispering about something so I’m not sure what to take from it?” Offered Lucy

“That little bitch” snapped alexia

“Woah what now?” Questioned Lucy at the harsh words Alexia had just produced

“I think she’s cheating on me Luce” replied alexia, both anger and sadness laced her voice.

“Oh wow Ale that’s a huge conculsion to jump to.” Stated the older woman.

“Well did you not see how much they touched eachother in that game. I was observing them the whole time Alessia was practically glued to her at every opportunity.” Snarled alexia.

“Now that you say it they’ve been spending a lot of time together but I wouldn’t make any rash decisions on the matter Alexia.” Offered Lucy.

“Thanks Lucy I’m gonna call her now.” Alexia stated harshly

——

After the team bus made its way back to the hotel in Sydney, you and Alessia wandered up to your rooms (next door to eachother as requested). You’d barely been back and hour before you received a FaceTime from your wife. Weird, you’d thought. It was a couple of hours earlier than you’d discussed but you brushed it off and answered anyways.

“Hola mi amor” you spoke down the phone.

“Fuck you” came your wife’s angry tone

“W-what? Mi Vida are you ok?” You asked with concern in your voice

“You’re cheating on me are you, with Russo?” She snarled

“WHAT?! No Alexia where did you get that from?” you were shocked at this revelation

“I saw the two of you in that game, every time you were tackled she was right beside you. She’s up front you’re a defender for fucks sake you’re miles away from each other!” She practically yelled down the phone.

“Alexia no it’s not like that at all, she’s just been looking out for me.” You reassured the Spaniard.

“Looking out for you? I know we’re not seeing eachother for a while but i didn’t realise you were pathetic enough to need another woman to satisfy you! It’s been 3 fucking weeks Y/N!” She roared

“You don’t understand Alexia I needed someone to talk to, to support me in person.” you were in tears now.

“SUPPORT YOU? What the fuck with? I call you everyday to check in and you won’t tell me anything so you’re whoring yourself out to the next person you can find!” She pushed further

“No Alexia! It’s not like that not at all please!” You begged

“Then what is it huh? What could you possibly need support with that I can’t give you right now?!” She boomed

“Alexia, I’m- I’m pregnant! The IVF worked its your baby, sorry you had to find out like this.” you burst into tears.

Alexia sat there in shock. You were pregnant, with her baby, how could she have been so stupid!

—————

[luveline]

hiii jadey <3 i’ve been having a bit of a rough time in college lately and i was wondering if you’d be willing to write some bombshell!reader where spencer talks about being bullied in high school and maybe bombshell can relate? even if not, just a lot of comfort please? i hope you’re doing well!! <333

ty for ur request!!! fem

It’s a blessing and a curse whenever you come around. Spencer’s thinking he hadn’t seen you in a while when your text lights up his screen, a summoning if there ever was one. 

Hi Spencer, I need some help with my laptop. It turns out for about ten seconds and then turns off again. Do you think you can fix it?

He has no idea. Probably. Do you want me to come by SCU? 

No need

“Spencer!” you say, practically glowing as you drop your messenger bag on his already crowded desk. “Sorry, that’s so heavy.”

“You’re here,” he says, surprised. 

You lean down to hug him in his chair. Spencer can’t ignore that he likes every part of you, your arms as they wrap around his shoulders, the perfume on your neck as you touch your cheek to his, even the soft exhale of your breath by his ear. “Hi, Dr. Reid,” you say gently. “Missed you. So happy my laptop isn’t working ‘cos now I get to see you.” 

You pull away with a grin. Your lips are a shade of pink that Spencer won’t soon forget.

“That was fast.” 

“So fast,” you say. “You know I love an excuse to see you and to not be at work.” 

You work very hard, but you’re like anyone. Stealing time is fun and free. “You’re not gonna get in trouble, right?” 

“With who? Hotch doesn’t care if I’m here and Sandy,” —you full body shiver at the mention of your boss— “won’t notice I’m gone for another hour. Besides, I can’t have a broken laptop. They’re pretty cool, right?”

“Laptops?” 

“Yeah, I like them. I just need the WiFi to work everywhere.” You squint at him. “Is that something you can do?” 

Spencer cannot make the WiFi work everywhere you go, but he can soft reset your laptop after a short investigation of the problem. It takes about five minutes, in which you steal Morgan’s chair and get comfortable next to him, legs crossed, hand resting open on your thigh. “You’re so smart. I bet you were very popular in high school.” 

He laughs, startled, a horrible sinking feeling moving through his chest. “What? Why would you think that?”

“‘Cos you’re a genius at everything, right? I bet you were always helping people with their homework.” 

His lips last. He doesn’t know what to say. “I don’t think I talked to anyone in high school who didn’t want to hang me at the top of a flag pole,” he says honestly. 

Your lovely smile falls flat. “What?” 

“I skipped a couple of grades, so I was younger than everybody, and I wasn’t well liked. I was actually bullied pretty badly.” He laughs again with that same brittle panic. He’s talking without thinking, it just spilled out, it’s spilling still, “I used to get beat up for breathing wrong.” 

You’re quiet. Spencer panics worse because why has he told you that? You’re so sweet to him but that doesn’t mean you wanted to know about his worst moments, he can practically feel the affection you had for him melting away as you realise he’s a loser, he’s pathetic–

“I was bullied too,” you say, giving him a tentative smile. “All the way through high school and a little bit after that, too. Maybe that’s why we get along so well, huh?” 

He looks at his hands. “You were?” 

“Yep.” He can hear the strain of wanting to sound normal. “I mean, I didn’t get beat up, Spencer, that’s awful and I’m– I’m so sorry.”

You’re the last person he’d ever want an apology from, because you’re one of the only people he’s ever met who likes him as he is. You could never make him hurt the way he did back then. High school was years ago and it lingers like it happened yesterday. “I can still remember the stuff they used to say to me,” he says. 

“I got made fun of for so much stuff,” you agree. “Boys I didn’t even know would berate me in the halls for just being there. I got called ugly so much I genuinely believed I was for years.” 

“You’re not ugly,” he says immediately. 

“I know.” 

He nods thoughtfully. “It’s hard trying to forget about it. I think if people knew how much I carry with me from then they’d tell me to let it go, but I can’t.” 

“You don’t have to let it go, Spence, so long as you know it’s not your fault it happened.” 

You offer your hand. Spencer stares at it. You wiggle your fingers and he thinks, Oh, grasping it quickly, before you change your mind. Your fingers slide between his and you rub the back of his hand with your thumb, smiling approvingly, eyes crinkled with pleasure. 

“They don’t know what they missed,” you say, a hint of shyness in your voice that’s swiftly covered by your usual confident drawling, “they had unfiltered and unadulterated access to the Spencer Reid, n’ I have to pretend my laptops broken just to see you. So crazy.” 

You give his hand a good squeeze.

“It was sort of broken,” he says as you take your hand back. He’s sure his brain is broken too. 

“Nah, it always does that. I just give it a love tap and it fixes it again.” 

“A what?” He laughs so loudly it turns heads. His crush on you turns to full blown infatuation.

[raineandsky]

#120

When the villains caught wind of a new hero on the team, they’d all taken interest. When someone came back claiming he’s blind, it’d sparked a whole new debate.

Straightforward, they’d all said. He won’t even see us coming. They’d laughed at how easy it’d seemed.

The villain feels like they’ve stumbled on a pile of gold when they come across the hero. He’s running his hand along something on the fence in front of him, something that the villain will later realise is a braille description of the view ahead of him. A white cape drifts around his ankles, an equally white suit flattering against his typical heroic body, the lightest of smiles on his face as his fingers trace the patterns of dots along the railing.

The villain can’t help but grin as they slowly make their way towards the poor hero, so oblivious, so stupid. They’re barely a hair breadth away, their dagger practically unsheathing itself, when the hero spins towards them with a swish of his cape and a flick of a blade.

The villain barely reels back in time. Staying quiet doesn’t occur to them when they’re startled. The hero looks like he’s staring right through them, an arrogant smirk on his face.

“Ah,” he says brightly, “you’re one of those criminals I’m meant to be looking out for?”

The villain sidesteps, careful to keep their footing quiet, but it doesn’t matter. The hero’s head cocks towards them as they try to step out of his blade’s path.

“You’re almost silent,” the hero continues. A smirk adorns his face, intrigued. “Incredible.”

The villain is close enough to strike, the hero looking slightly too far beyond them to be right in his assumptions. The villain shifts in fast, their dagger poised. The hero dodges back and retaliates with a swing of his own.

The villain stumbles out of reach and the hero follows. The villain’s unprepared; they were expecting a hero who’s unsure who they’re looking for, where the villain is. They were expecting an easy plaything that they could stab when they got bored.

But this—the hero is nothing but brazen confidence.

The villain shoves their dagger up to meet his blade, throwing his arm out. They move in for another strike but the hero’s already recovered. His blade easily tucks under their arm and slices into their side.

Something of a strangled gasp escapes the villain before they can stop it. They stagger back, a hand touched timidly to the wound, their eyes flitting back up to the hero. He simply waits, his blade crimson and his eyes blank. How? How?

“Would you do me the honour of telling me who I’ve met?” he asks, as if this is nothing more than a casual meeting between friends of friends. The villain wants to snap him in half for the audacity.

“That’s none of your fuckin’ business.”

“Aha,” the hero says, almost a laugh, “You’re [Villain].”

The villain can only stare at him in horror. The hero seems to feel the tension in the silence, because he continues. “You’ve a bad mouth, favour in the blade, light on your feet.” A teasing smile. “And you’ve a smooth, caramel voice I haven’t heard in many like you.”

“Wh— Excuse me��� You—” 

The hero just smirks, the stupid smirk of someone who knows he’s untouchable in every sense of the word. “Flustered by compliments, too,” the hero finishes with a laugh. “Good to remember for next time.”

“I’m not flustered!” the villain finally manages, “and my voice isn’t caramel. That isn’t a thing. You sound stupid.”

“I’m happy to be stupid if it means I can recognise you as the villain who speaks in caramel.”

The villain’s side is beginning to really ache. They need to be somewhere that’s not here when it inevitably gets worse. “Do what you want. I’m going home.”

“May I escort you to a prison cell?”

The villain barks a laugh, their side practically splitting with the forced fakeness of it. “As if you know where the agency is from here.”

“I always know where I am, [Villain].” A smile again, softer this time. Knowing. “You underestimate me for a characteristic I think makes me as interesting to you as you are to me.”

The burn in the villain’s skin is an ode to that. “Sure.” The villain turns on their heel before a thought occurs to them. “I’m going to walk away, loudly. Do me a favour and don’t fucking shank me when I do.”

The hero’s face twists back into a smirk. “As long as I hear you moving away. Until next time, [Villain].”

A blind hero! everyone had cried. It’s almost too easy!

The villain scurries away with a gash to the side and a slam to their ego, and they know now to know better than that.

[malakaie]

had some feelings to write out – for/about @tommyend, no pressure at all to respond

I started watching wrestling – specifically, AEW – in late October 2023. It’s been just over a year since I started watching, and I didn’t expect it to consume as much of my brain-space as it has. When I started watching, I didn’t really know who anyone was. I had heard a few names – Randy Orton, CM Punk, Jade Cargill, Roman Reigns – but had no real concept of the landscape I was entering or what it would mean to get invested.

Truthfully, it was a little overwhelming, and there was more I didn’t understand than I did. In those first few weeks, I received one very helpful piece of advice: don’t try to understand everything. Find a wrestler or two whose vibe you like and stick with them – the rest will click into place eventually, or it won’t, and either way is fine.

And so I did. I think it was around the lead-up to Full Gear 2023 that I started really paying attention. There was something about what House of Black was doing that was different from anything else I was seeing. I could understand just enough to recognise talented athletes when I saw them, but I wasn’t quite plugged in enough to the overall wrestling “ecosystem” that that was enough on its own to get my attention. Now that I understand more of what I’m looking at, it’s easier to understand what I’m meant to be impressed by – it’s easier now to have that moment of, holy shit, how did they do that?

But I didn’t understand yet. I’d been watching wrestling for about a month and was still finding my footing. What I saw, and latched onto, in House of Black was a group of four impressive performers that I could tell were in love with the art of what they were doing. Everything was done with intent – the way they entered the ring, the different but cohesive styles with which each member of the House wrestled, the gear they wore, the ever-evolving paint on Malakai’s face, the evolution and growth of Julia’s character.

It was both the moment that I finally, properly understood that professional wrestling was also theatre—and, I think, the moment that I was magnetised. It felt like a faction that was made for me: a band of storytellers who wanted to take my hand and show me what wrestling could be and was and is, and had the creativity and cohesiveness and physical talent to pull it off.

I could breathe a sigh of relief. I wasn’t lost anymore, desperately trying to catch up to understanding something that everyone around me already seemed to know. I had a guide of some sort, and one that resonated: I’ve been reading since I was 3, writing stories since I was 11, have always been a little “strange,” drawn to creative types and niche hobbies and other people that don’t have many friends. And here was someone who not only felt like me, sounded like me, but was wanted and loved and succeeding. A stranger to me, in the way that performers and public figures always are, but I felt like it was going to be okay. If Malakai could make it—though I didn’t and don’t know him personally, I had no way of knowing if he was ever afraid, or if he doubted himself—then maybe I could, too.

The more I watched and the more I learned, the more true that became. I’ve been depressed and anxious most of my adult life. I have scoliosis that is likely to get worse as I get older, and causes me pain multiple times a week, if not every day. Hearing someone whose work I admired be open about his mental health—especially when sports industries have typically not been kind to people, perhaps especially men, who are vulnerable in that way—and be honest when he’s in pain shook something loose in me that I hadn’t quite realised was stuck and frozen in shame. It’s okay that I’m afraid. It’s okay that I have days where my brain is trying to consume itself. It’s okay that I’m in pain. Did I get out of bed today? Have I been outside? Have I eaten? Have I done something to be kind to myself—or, failing that, kind to someone else? Have I done something creative today?

I started my “gender journey,” for lack of a better phrase, in 2018. There was a lot, a lot, of messing around with pronouns, labels. I didn’t know what I was, only that “just a girl” didn’t feel quite right anymore. And then I felt like I was lying, because, well—I was fine being a girl when I was ten, and thirteen, and sixteen, so why was it suddenly different at 25? Sometimes I still feel like I’m lying. The generation above me often still holds an image of trans people that requires them to have always been miserable, always been “pretending.” A few months ago my mother suggested it was fine if my idea of being feminine had expanded, but she didn’t really believe I was trans, because I’d never been unhappy as a girl child, and besides that I looked like a “clone” of the small handful of other transmasc and nonbinary people she’s met. I must be a pod person. (Newsflash, mom: This is just what queer people look like, a lot of the time. I cut and dyed my hair and got one singular tattoo. How terrible.)

She didn’t ask me how I feel when people call me she, or her—it makes me feel horribly small and unreal, by now—and in fairness to her, I didn’t quite defend myself either. I cringed and shrunk and asked for time to think about it, when what I wanted to say is yes, I know I haven’t had the history you expect to see from me, but this is who I am, and I’m not telling you that I was never a girl. I’m telling you that girl isn’t the place where I stop.

But I was scared, and I felt cornered, and I didn’t say any of that.

What I did have, though, was an artist and a performer and a storyteller who did things with his expression, his clothing, how he presented himself to the world that was like a lightbulb going on. The confidence of a man who told stories with the way that he looked, and who used feminine symbols to do it. He wasn’t any less masculine—but it was an embracing of both that cemented who he was, and I thought: holy shit. I can do that. Our identities are not the same, and I’m not too keen on speculating about the identities of public figures that I don’t know in any event—but it’s reassuring, motivating even, to be able to regularly see someone comfortably expressing his gender (because, yes, cis presentation is gender expression too) in a way that makes sense to him and incorporates the feminine and resonates through his art without doubt or reservation or compromise. This is who we are. Take it or leave it.

I don’t know what’s coming next for any of us. AEW looks like such a different place—in a good way—from when I started watching, and the world is looking pretty scary these days, but I’m still here. The art that got me interested in wrestling in the first place is still here, and I have my theories—unsubstantiated, so far—about where Malakai and House of Black are taking their story, but regardless of theories I’ve been so fortunate to watch them continue to grow and evolve over the past year. There’s a lot I don’t know, but I know the love for the story and the art is real.

I don’t know you personally, Malakai, and I don’t want to claim to, no matter how many scraps I’ve gathered together from interviews and how much of the backlog of matches I’ve done my best to watch so I can understand where you’ve come from and where you’re going next. But your work and your love for your craft has moved me, and I’m glad I stayed alive when it was hard so I could be around to see it when it mattered.

[luckykiwiii101]

Doubting The Law?

Hey doubtful Upper East Siders!

You’ve read many MANY success stories I assume. You’ve analysed them top to bottom to find inconsistencies or anything to pick out to claim as false.

Well, have you ever asked yourself, why?

Not why as in “Why do I not believe them?”

But “Why do their struggles sound exactly like mine?”

“Why have they gone everything i’m going through right now, if not worse?”

“Why is it all so specific?”

“Why’s it all so relatable?”

Well the logical way to answer that is, they’ve been in your shoes before. They’ve gone through what you’re going through. But they realised that they were just scared of success. They weren’t used to success.

The illogical way to answer that is “they’re all lying. Those thousands, millions of people are all lying! they’ve photoshopped all their proof! for fun!”

look on @loasuccessarchive

Now what do you think?

We all have something called emotions.

Ask yourself, “How would I react if i truly believed that the law wasn’t real?”

Would you post a fake success story, attempting to live in the end, when you don’t even believe in it?!?!

Or would you post a rant calling it delusional BS.

I think MOST of us, if not all of us would choose the second option.

So why haven’t we seen much of that here? Why are there more success stories than rants imaginable?

So why do you doubt what’s right in-front of you?

Why do you disbelieve in the illogical. When you ARE the illogical one. Trying convince yourself that something isn’t real when the facts are right in-front if you.

It’s ILLOGICAL for 10000+ people on this app to make up fake stories about the law.

Stop choosing selective irrationality. In other words, stop choosing to be “illogical” when it fits you the most. Just because you were raised to not believe in yourself by society. The average person does not know about the law of assumption. Why would you listen to what they say?

If it was mainstream, you would believe in it wouldn’t you? Because everyone else does.

Still don’t believe me?

Remember all those bloggers that have been offline for months or years after manifesting their dream lives? Why? Oh, maybe because they’ve got their dream lives. They don’t need to roam tumblr anymore.

And i promise you, nobody’s out here concocting silly little plans to crush your dreams and make you believe in something that is fake.

The law was not discovered by little teenage girls pulling a sick joke on you to write in their burn books. It goes WAYYY back. Before you, your mother, your father, your grandmother, your grandfather was born. It’s not something new.

Would this community exist around a fake story?

No, we all know that’s not how the world works.

There is SO much proof all over the internet of people’s results. It’s insane how easy success is. Just let yourself.

You’ve manifested ALL your life.

Now you can do it in your favour.

The law is real, whether you believe in it or not.

And you will use it again, and again, you will use it tomorrow, you’ve used it yesterday, you’re using it today.