#I sound like I’m ten haha

[domnq88]

I wanted to do this and make a cool beat but my midi software went kookoo on me

And so did everything else

So…

Acapella it is for me, I guess 🫤

Anyway I don’t think he’ll see it but I regretted not doing this last year.

So here I am rain or shine

Cause the fact my new midi software wasn’t working, and everything else wasn’t matching up was just ODD.

Like…anew YouTube vid is also coming but it’s taking 6/8hrs to render and then my computer died so it’s rendering again…😭😭😭😭😭 hopefully tomorrow

🤞🏽🤞🏽🤞🏽🤞🏽🤞🏽

I can’t win today! 🫤

Happyjiminday though!

The little cute bean!

🐥💜🐥

[app1es0uce]

So we all agree Odysseus likes to carve wood and most likely carved stuff out of wood for Telemachus.

Do you think he carved Telemachus a little wooden horse, looked at it, and then went “HOLY SHIT EURYLOCHUS I HAVE THE BEST IDEA WE’RE GONNA WIN THIS WAR WE GOTTA MAKE A GIANT WOODEN HORSE THIS IS GENIUS TRUST BRO TRUST!!”

[housewifebuck]

My toxic trait is I will let myself write like a boomer whenever it’s work related correspondence I just don’t care it’s so easy and freeing

[lavenderspence]

To Lean On You | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content Warning: post prison!Spencer, mentions of addiction, prison talk (typical for the prison arc), gun use, mentions of death, suggestive themes, idiots in love, angst, so much angst.

Word Count: 8.6K

Summary: You and Spencer wasted years, truths hidden, feelings uncertain, and a fear of the unrequited. It took ten weeks, isolated, silent, and broken, for the realization to strike. There was no life, if you didn’t have each other. 

A/N: It’s finally here! Wow, writing this was a wild ride, honestly. Over a month of writing, blood, sweat, and tears poured over it (there were in fact some tears). This is also the first thing I’ve written in 3 years and I'm very happy to finally be out of my slump. It's probably the angstiest thing I've written ever, and at the same time, I feel like it's not the greatest, but deep down, I still love it, haha. Let me know if I've missed any warnings. And, enjoy and any feedback is appreciated. <3

Here are some of the songs I listened to while writing this if you want to get into the mood:

Hearts by Jessie Ware

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived by Taylor Swift

Lost Without You by Freya Ridings

In This Shirt by The Irresponssibles

masterlist

79 days, 3 hours, and 27 minutes - that’s how long it’s been since he got arrested in Mexico.

70 days, 6 hours, and 13 minutes since you saw him being pulled out of the courtroom after he was deemed a flight risk and denied bail. 70 days, 6 hours, and 13 minutes have passed since you last saw him.

65 days, 7 hours, and 11 minutes, since he was transferred to Millburn Correctional Facility, and this whole nightmare, had started. 

Per Penelope’s carefully crafted schedule, every team member has made numerous trips to visit Spencer - every member except you. You’d only made one trip out, and that had been 3 days after he’d been transferred.

March 4th, 2017

It’s been 8 days since you saw him led in cuffs out of that courtroom, where Penelope had broken down in Luke’s arms, everyone too shocked to make a sound. He’d looked back, his eyes meeting yours briefly, and it had been as if you’d almost seen your reflection in the mirror, every emotion had run between you both in a matter of seconds. 

Shock, you’d almost been sure they would grant bail, and you’d be able to take him home. Almost. 

Fear, for his future and his well-being. Fear of the uncertain. 

Desperation, the desire to run to him and take him into your arms, finally, and to not let go. 

Except you’d held his gaze for as long as you could before you’d looked down and turned your head to save him from seeing you break down in tears. You’d made a hasty escape after that, not sparing any of your teammates a glance, and walked out of the courthouse, stopping by a tree outside. The urge to curl up into a ball and hide, pretending none of this had happened, was strong, and then a hand wrapped around your shoulder. You had turned around, only to see Rossi and one of his sad little smiles, the ones you rarely saw.

“It’s going to be okay,” he’d said, squeezing your shoulder. ”The kid is strong.”

You’d sniffled, trying to hide the tears in your voice. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure I am," you’d whispered in despair. 

You were better than you had been 8 days ago, calmer. Although still heartbroken, you were looking forward to seeing him, seeing with your eyes that he was okay. Garcia had seen him, 2 days ago, before you’d been sent out on a case.  

“He looks good. I mean, as good as that big genius brain of his can look in prison. His eyes were sad though, really, really sad.” She’d paused as if to assure herself it would be alright, “I’m sure he’s looking forward to seeing you, sweetness.” She’d squeezed your hand, but her statement hadn’t rung true. 

Your hands were shaking, you weren’t sure what from. The anticipation you’d felt? The nerves? Or the words you had a hard time coming to terms with.

“I’m sorry, but your name isn’t on Spencer Reid’s approved visitor list,” the guard at the checkpoint had said after rechecking the list. 

“There has to be a mistake, I made an appointment,” you insisted, feeling yourself unravel. It wasn’t possible, you knew for a fact you were on that list, Emily had made sure of that.

“Look, lady. There are only 10 names on that list, and yours is not one of them. Now, you need to move, because there are people here waiting to see their loved ones.” you’d hiccuped and turned around, walking to the lockers to unlock your gun, badge, and phone. 

“I’m here to see a loved one.” You’d wanted to scream, but you knew it would have been futile. There wasn’t anything you could do at that moment. 

You walked to your car, dialing Emily’s number, “This is Prentiss.”  

For a second, only your breathing could be heard over the sound of the wind, and then a tiny sniffle. You wiped at your eyes and nose, and then spoke up, barely, “Why am I not on Spencer’s approved visitor list?” 

“What do you mean? Every member of this team is on the list. So is his lawyer and Diana, even Derek,” you could hear the surprise in her voice, yet you couldn’t keep calm any longer.

"They refused to let me see him! I made the appointment, Emily, and I came, hoping I’d finally see him hear his voice, and ask him-” Your voice broke mid-sentence, and after taking a deep breath, you continued, “Ask him if he was okay, and I was denied because out of the 10 names on that list, it seems mine’s not one of them.” You finished defeated, barely above a whisper.

All was silent for the moment, save for what you could hear was Penelope’s voice on the other end of the line, quietly asking what was going on, “Let me call Fiona and the warden, and I’ll see what happened. Meanwhile, I need you back here, because we just got a case.” Her voice wasn’t leaving anything up for discussion. Still, you couldn’t go, not until you saw him. 

“Emily-” she cut you off.

“It’s not a discussion. I’ll resolve this, but I need you here and your head in the game. Am I clear?” Her voice was stern, but maybe that’s exactly what you needed. Maybe.

“Yeah, clear. I’m on my way back.” You took a deep breath and started the car and the journey back to Quantico, but your mind stayed right there, on the bars that kept you away from the one thing you held dearest. 

As it turns out, there was nothing the warden or Fiona could do. Even Emily Prentiss, Unit Chief of the BAU, couldn't “resolve” the situation. Days, weeks, and months passed, and for 70 days you couldn’t see him, isolated out, not even knowing why.

“-to be in the courthouse in one.” You snapped out of your thoughts, only catching the end of the sentence, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. You were tired, and it had little to do with the fact that you had been up all night, going over all the evidence with the team and tracing Lindsey Vaughan’s steps to a T in an attempt to exonerate Spencer and finally bring him home. 

You were exhausted, both physically and mentally. You’d been up for more than 24 hours now, but then you hadn’t been sleeping all that well to begin with. Every single night was spent wondering how Spencer was doing, and every time you closed your eyes, you saw him in that cell in Mexico. 

His eyes were red, high out of his mind, barely coherent, dirty, and injured - a far cry from the person you were used to seeing every single day - energetic, passionate, and brilliant. After 12 years, if there was one image you wished to erase from your memory, it was this one. Not all the blood you’ve seen spilled, every victim, be it men, women, or even children, all the horrors of the job, but this. Maybe it made you a bad person, but there was nothing worse than seeing the one person you held dearest at their lowest and not being able to do anything to stop it.

Every waking hour that you weren’t on the job was spent wondering how he was doing and if he was okay. If he was healthy, unharmed, and safe, or as safe as an FBI agent could be in prison. But most of all, the one thing that had kept you up at night, slowly destroying your sanity and making you question everything, had been the one question you couldn’t seem to get an answer to. 

“Why doesn’t he want to see me?”

You’d asked everyone and had waited with battered breath for an answer, a clarification on the matter, and it never came. As shocked as you had been at the notion that you wouldn’t be seeing Spencer for an indefinite amount of time, your team had been even more shocked. They knew the kind of relationship you and Spencer had, how close you’d become over the years, and how much you relied on each other. 

You’d asked every team member, you’d asked yourself, you’d even asked Spencer in a few of the letters you wrote to him, and then there had come a point where you just stopped. 

You were torturing yourself more than enough, day after day, and every single night, asking yourself a question you wouldn’t get an answer to. Not as long as he was locked up in that hellhole and you were out here, trying to keep together the pieces of something, that was on the verge of breaking. 

You felt a hand taking hold of yours, and for a second, you tensed up. Pulled out of your thoughts, you looked up and were met with chocolate brown eyes, full of worry - Emily’s eyes. 

You glanced around the room, only to realize it was empty, save for the two of you. You hadn’t felt when the others had left, that’s how deep in thought you had been. 

“Where did you go? I’ve been calling your name for a while now,” she spoke gently, squeezing your hand. If you were honest, that’s the first time she asked you anything about the situation. You’d spent weeks suffering in silence and trying to pretend that you weren’t slowly dying on the inside. 

You briefly thought about lying, it wouldn’t be the first lie you’d told since Spencer had been incarcerated, but you didn’t have it in you to hide anymore. 

And so, for the first time since Spencer’s hearing, you told the truth.

“Nothing makes sense anymore, Em,” it left you in a whisper, “I’m barely holding it together. I feel like I’m drowning sometimes, and just when I breach the surface, I’m pulled back in. My mind, it’s...I question everything, all the time. My mornings start with thoughts about him, and my nights end with tears over him, over this entire…this nightmare. I keep waiting for my alarm to go off, to wake up and realize that this has been a plot of my imagination, some cruel joke my mind has conjured, designed to show me... "Your eyes welled with tears, prepared to admit something you should have long ago. Emily gave your hand another squeeze, prompting you to continue, and so you did, admitting it for the first time aloud. 

“Designed to show me that I can’t live a life that doesn’t have Spencer in it.” You wiped at your eyes, willing your tears at bay. When you dared to look up, you were met with the eyes of the only other person besides Spencer who has been a constant rock in your life for the last 11 years. What you saw in her eyes then wasn’t surprise like you’d thought, but relief. It took you a moment to fully read her, but it was like a switch had gone off when you finally did. 

“But you’re not surprised to hear this, are you?” you smiled sadly, a light laugh leaving you. 

“I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t have my suspicions, and I’d be an even worse profiler,” she smiled at you, “Plus, there are some feelings that you just can’t hide,” you blinked, and then you blinked again. You hadn’t come right out and said it, and yet she knew, she somehow knew. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” you tried to backtrack, but you knew it was a losing battle. Emily knew you well enough to smell your bullshit from miles.

“That’s exactly how you meant it, and don’t even try to deny it. I see it every damn day. It’s how you leave the room whenever you hear someone talk about visiting Spencer. You don’t want to hear how he’s doing because you wouldn’t believe it, not unless you see him with your own eyes. But you can’t, so you’ve resigned yourself to the torture of not knowing instead of giving yourself the smallest amount of peace by asking. You’ve been suffering in silence for almost three months, too stubborn to say anything, thinking you were doing yourself a favor. And what for? You’re crying yourself to sleep every night and coming to work the next morning, pretending everything is fine when clearly it’s not. You think you’re fooling everyone, but the only person you’re tricking is yourself. And how’s that working out for you?” she had a point, and it’s not like you weren’t aware of that fact. You knew what you were doing wasn’t okay or healthy. You had the most stable support system imaginable to get you through the hardest parts. It was hard, though, especially when the person who was suffering the most was the person who’d taken your heart with him. 

“Way to call me out, boss.” you were just about ready to end the conversation, you couldn’t take any more of this. You’d promised each other long ago that you wouldn’t profile each other but you had a feeling that was exactly what Emily was doing right now. Maybe not on purpose, and with every good intention imaginable, but you didn’t want that. You didn’t want one of your best friends to try to understand you based on behavioral analysis right after you’d spilled your soul out to her. 

“Just calling it the way I see it, someone has to,” she smiled, but then she shook her head a little before continuing. “What I want to know is why you didn’t say something earlier. You know I would have been there to listen, and so would have the team.” Damn, Emily Prentiss.

You didn’t have to think hard about it, you’ve been ruminating over everything for days. You were trying not to, but whenever your mind wasn’t focused on a case or the many drinking nights spent in Penelope’s purple adobe, that was where your mind would take you.

“Out of fear, I think,” you started, unsure for a second, still nervous to admit it. It wasn’t exactly what she was asking, but it was a start, “I was afraid, and I still am. I’ve been baiting myself into thinking it was just some sort of fondness, a little stronger than that which you feel towards a friend, and far lesser than what it actually is. I thought that if I didn’t say anything, I could go on lying to myself, and nothing would have to change, we wouldn’t have to change. Because words hold meaning, and an admission like that holds weight. What would I have done if it was just me who felt like this? I would have ruined the one thing we’ve both cherished for over a decade.” It felt good to finally say all of this out loud instead of holding it inward. But then again, Emily always knew when you'd had enough. 

She’d told you time and time again the same thing Hotch had asked of her when she returned to duty after faking her death: “Let me know when you are having a bad day.”. Honestly, you’d held off long enough, and so had she. It was a whole miracle she hadn’t pressed you about your behavior earlier. 

“That’s not what I was asking,” you said, shaking your head with a smile to let her know that you weren’t done speaking. 

“Everyone was suffering as a result of what happened in Mexico, what I was feeling wasn’t any different, Emily.” You were flippant about it, you always have been. You preferred isolating yourself and hiding everything instead of seeking a shoulder to bear the weight of what you felt. 

“Our sadness came from the fact that our friend was framed. And yours? That’s different.” 

“It isn’t,” she scoffed, getting up. Now you really felt like you were about to get scolded like a child.

“Yes, it is. God, you and Spencer are the same. It’s like I’m looking at his doppelganger without the whole… IQ of 187. You share some of the worst qualities a person can have,” you laughed at that, “You are both changeophobes-” you cut her off

“Metathesiophobia, fear of change.” She only raised her hand at you, as if to say, “See, you even sound like him,” which made you laugh even more. 

“You close yourselves off after a sad or traumatic experience, silently hoping you’d be able to get through the worst of it on your own. Most of the time, it’s evident that’s not the case. You only ask for help when you’ve reached rock bottom or have no other choice, but you’ve had a choice from the get-go. Your stubbornness even stems from the same anxieties, it’s infuriating,” she seemed to calm down then, in defeat maybe, or she hadn’t been mad, to begin with, she sat down again. 

“My point is, it shouldn’t have taken you learning that he might be coming home today to tell me all of this. I’ve known for a long time that there was something far more than platonic friendship on your end. You shouldn’t have tortured yourself since his trial to try to put the puzzle pieces together. You aren’t late, you have all the time in the world to say what you feel and what you want, and rejection shouldn’t be a factor, believe me. You need to make peace with that fear because Spencer is coming home today. And whether you are ready or not, you both need to have a serious conversation.” You appreciated her determination about Spencer being released, but then again, you had more than circumstantial evidence to support the fact that he was innocent. But, as always, Emily was right. He was coming home today, and after months of not seeing each other, there were a lot of things you needed to say. 

“I know. Thank you, Emily, for everything,” you whispered, squeezing her tight. 

Spencer’s POV

The first breath of fresh air after being on the inside for months felt far more overwhelming than he thought it would be. Being in charge of your being and your responses and emotions felt almost unnatural like the feeling of it didn’t belong to him. The sound of the wind and the traffic, people’s voices, and even the simple act of getting comfortable in the leather seats of the jet overwhelmed any ability to concentrate and think straight. 

In itself, it was strange. The prison was loud, the prison commissary at breakfast, lunch, and dinner was a cacophony of prisoners talking, cells being opened, and guards barking orders. The yard was loud too, although, in the middle of nowhere, nature could still be heard - the sounds of trees and the lone birds, if he had to guess a mix of Mourning Dove and Field Sparrow. Their songs were soothing most of the time, a welcome distraction from the usual noises around him. 

Without the atmosphere he’d gotten used to and subjected to all of those sounds and people whose presence he found comforting before, he now felt almost out of place. He wanted to feel at peace, he wanted to feel free, and although he technically was, his mind was more trapped than he’d actually been in that 2 by 2 cell in cellblock C.

He kept replaying some of the hardest moments from his time in, every threat, every punch he’d gotten, and the phantom feel of the fists connecting. Luis’ blood on his hands, the smell of bleach incorporated with the drugs, the tip of the sharpened toothbrush embedding into his thigh. All he’d done to survive, harm, and more harm, only to make it out alive. 

He barely recognized himself. He’d deliberately ignored looking at himself in the small plastic mirror in his cell, for fear of seeing what he’d had to become. Gone was the Spencer who’d use his brain to get out of situations, whose obliviousness more often than not helped to balance his intellect with the socially acceptable. Gone was the bubbly personality of a kid excited to share a plethora of facts with his friends. 

In his place sat a man, tormented by the reality of the hatred felt towards him. The reality of being a pawn in a game whose complexity could have been his downfall. A man whose genius, as much of a blessing, could sometimes be a curse. A man who had felt too much and was made to experience far more loss than his quaint heart was able to take. In the end, he kept losing, be it his father, by no choice of his own. His mentor, at the hands of a killer’s insanity. His friends and loved ones, hoping for a better life or his freedom, made to rot in a place he didn’t deserve to be in. 

Some would doubt that he had anything at all left to lose. All in all, how much more could the scrawny twelve-year-old child prodigy, left to survive in a public high school, take? 

His mind had been plagued by that question for years. He’d thought about that more than he’d like to admit. After every loss, there’d been a split moment where he’d asked himself what was next. What would be the next thing life would take from him? And every time, he’d had to wonder if, next time, life wouldn’t reach for the one thing he couldn’t allow to be taken from him. The one thing that, were he to lose, he’d never recover. He had hoped, sometimes prayed, that after everything he’d seen, everything he’d lived through, this would be the one thing that’d be spared. 

Locked in that cage, he’d tried even harder to ensure that there wouldn’t be another loss in his life - not anymore. Be it good or bad, he’d done everything. For 70 days, he’d had to assure himself he was doing what he thought was right, and what he wasn’t saying, he’d be forgiven for. He’d had to dodge questions and see the disappointment in his friend’s eyes, and when that wasn’t enough of a burden to bring all of his anxieties to the surface, he’d resigned himself to reading the words of the person he was doing all of this for - you. 

He’d reread every letter to the point where the edges of the papers were worn out, even though he’d known the contents by heart on the first read. He tortured himself by looking at your handwriting, analyzing the slanting of the words and the pressure of the pen. The little stains on the paper, he didn’t have to be a genius to know, were your tears. It broke his heart, to know he was causing you this much pain. He didn’t need to be there to see it, he felt it through your words.

He often questioned if it was worth it, if he was protecting you, or himself, or maybe even what you were or weren’t.

Even now, the weight of your words sat heavily on his mind, and right by his heart, in the pocket of his jacket, he felt the weight of the 9 letters you wrote. 

As he looked over from the little window of the jet, he couldn’t help but wonder if, in his desire to shield you from everything, he hadn’t gone too far. Ultimately, was he going to be forgiven, or be forced to pick up the pieces of the reality broken by his own doing?

“Don’t do that.” JJ’s gentle voice startled him from the overwhelming nature of his thoughts. She’d spent the last 30 minutes since they boarded silently observing him, waiting for him to pick up a conversation. But he’d decided to stay num. 

In every twitch of his fingers, in his desire to get comfortable but being unable to, she could see that he was restless. If she had to guess, his mind was much the same. 

“Do what?”

She gave him a look, one, had he not known her long enough, he might have been offended by. Clearly, she was offended herself, watching him play the clueless card. 

“Spence, I don’t need to profile you to know that your mind’s running a thousand miles a minute, contemplating your decisions, and I don’t think you should. You did what you thought was right, and no one blames you for that, not for Mexico, and not for what you did after,” she spoke evenly, gathering even Penelope and Alvez’s attention from where they sat. He looked over, receiving a smile and a nod from both before focusing on JJ again. 

Rationally, he knew she was right about everything. He didn’t need to run himself ragged with everything he could have done differently, or search for the perfect way to explain, or overall, the perfect outcome of his own decisions. He knew there wasn’t one, there was no perfect way to say what he needed to, no perfect words to pick so he could fix this and erase the pain he knew he’d caused. 

Perfection wasn’t something you could strive to achieve, because there’s no such thing as perfection. The term was diverse, everyone had a different perspective on what that might look like. If for JJ, perfection was the family that waited for her at home every time she returned from a case, for Spencer, perfection was vastly different. 

For him, perfection was the rich aroma of coffee that could cause someone’s insulin to spike because of the amount of sugar in it. The softness of a book page between his fingers, or the familiarity of a book he’d read before but needed to revisit. 

Perfection was the sound of your laugh whenever he was the one to prompt the sound. The way your eyes lit up every time you listened to him babble on. Perfection was the time he got to spend with you every day, every hour, and every minute that he could remember with almost scary accuracy. 

He could sit and wonder what the perfect way to go about this was, but there simply wasn’t one, there was only the truth. And as painful, hopeful, or even a little dumb as it was, that was the best he could give.

And maybe that’s what his mind should focus on instead, the truth, in its simplest form, at its core the truth he’d hidden for months, and then the truth he’d hidden for years. 

He had wondered long enough if he’d made the right choice. He spent plenty of time focusing on the shame he’d felt, prompted by the disappointment he’d seen in his friends’ eyes whenever they brought up your name. How he’d sit, silent, or give an answer so short and angry, it’d add even more shame to the one he already felt. 

Beyond his time in prison, where he spent most of his time questioning his decisions, he spent years before that questioning himself as a person. His place on the team, his intelligence, even his failings. His inability to form relationships where he’d be seen as more than Dr. Reid, or the skinny kid, pretty boy, or a genius. A relationship that’d make him feel like simply Spencer, without the added adjectives, that sometimes made him feel like a circus clown. 

Only when he’d been locked up, had he started to realize that he’d finally built a relationship with someone with whom he could be himself. The most basic, boring, and peaceful version of himself, and slowly, all had started falling into place. 

How content he felt whenever he was around you, the desire to tell you every good or bad news he received. How when you asked about his mother, it warmed his heart, or how worried he felt when you acted stupid in the field. How out of control he’d felt when you’d gone missing last year. Or even, at the time, the unexplained jealousy he’d felt seeing you talk with another man.

Morgan had asked, once, twice, a lot, if maybe he didn’t have a crush, but he’d denied it, every time. And every time he’d question himself, he'd dismiss the idea just as quickly. 

Yet, upon being forced away from you, the pieces had started mending into one. 

Every realization he’d had was like a new broken piece being glued to the overall mosaic. And every new piece added built everything he felt about you. And it was a lot, and it was overwhelming, and so, so right, it sometimes felt wrong. Because he was inside a prison of his own doing, and you were out there, made to wait for him, for an explanation, for the truth. 

And he’d vowed to himself that the moment he was out, he’d put everything on the table, no matter how much he’d fucked up or how much he’d hurt you. He’d sit there, and he’d let it out, and if necessary, he’d even beg for your forgiveness. 

Because there wasn’t a moment in this life, he wanted to live through, without you there with him.

Your POV

You pulled the trigger, your eyes focused, and your hands steady. Three consecutive shots were fired, each one hitting its intended target. Three more followed, and then as many as it took to empty the magazine. 

You put down the gun and took a deep breath, steadying your heartbeat, trying to rid yourself of the deep-seated anxiety you felt. An odd sense of calm overtook you whenever you found yourself at the shooting range. Maybe it was the everpresent scent of gunpowder or the quiet only disturbed by the firing of a gun. Or even the possibility of escaping your rising thoughts, the desire to run or scream, sometimes both. 

There was a sense of solitude there that almost made it easier to breathe. The repetitive motion and the weight of the gun in your hands felt like second nature. 

Front sight, trigger press, follow through, just like Hotch had taught you all those years ago. As long as you held that gun, your mind was quiet, and you focused on something other than the worry you felt. 

It made sense you found yourself there shortly after Emily had shared the long-awaited good news - Spencer was finally free, and JJ, Penelope, and Luke were on route back with him. For a short moment, you’d felt the weight being lifted from your chest, and then it dropped again, now tripled. 

Suddenly, your earlier conversation with Emily had gotten as real as the target before you. Even with the sense of peace, you’d felt after, your thoughts on the matter clear, you still felt a sense of dread at the idea of seeing him. 

As if he wasn’t your best friend, the man who’d long ago won your affection and captured your heart, but rather a stranger who held your future in his hands. And he might as well be, because whatever the truth to the questions you wanted answered was, one thing was for sure.

It’d either make or break you both.

You picked up a new magazine, and loaded the gun, aiming at the target before releasing the safety. Before you fired again, you released a breath, and with it, all the feelings within you - fear, uncertainty, yearning, and the sense of madness, which, although mild, was persistent.

You fired once, twice, your aim impeccable, and then, out of nowhere, you missed. 

The hair at the back of your neck rose, your heart rate quickened, and the feeling of another’s presence in the room was unmistakable. It took you just a second to put the pieces together, the intrusion felt like anything but that. 

Instead, for a brief moment, the person brought with them a familiar feeling of calm. In the next instance, though, reality came crashing like a tidal wave, and you knew you’d run out of time. 

Your hands shook as you put down the gun. You could feel him watching you, probably standing next to the door, as if he couldn’t will himself to move closer. The anxiety was palpable in the air, although you couldn’t really say if it was yours or his, most likely, it was a mix of both.

You went to reach for your protection but hesitated. Once you took it off, there’d no longer be an excuse for you to ignore him, you’d finally have to meet the reality he’d so carefully crafted for you.

Even though you felt like you could barely breathe, the desire to finally lay your eyes on him won out. 

Without missing another beat, you took off your earplugs and then your eye protection. You could faintly hear the sound of shoes squicking against the floor. He could never stay still when he was nervous.  

You picked up on the sound of your own breathing too, the beating of your heart was almost erratic. You were waiting, what for, you weren’t sure. 

He was waiting too, for you to turn around, to lay his eyes on you. Like a sadist, waiting to see the pain he’d caused, or a masochist, wishing for his own in turn. 

70 days of slowly killing you both.

When you finally dared to turn around, it took you a moment to fully take him in. He looked like the Spencer you knew, yet there was something different about him too. Dressed in his usual suit and tie outfit, he didn’t look comfortable. His posture was rigid, almost defensive. It wasn’t a conscious decision, that much you were sure of.

His hair was longer, pushed back, curling at the ends, and he’d lost some weight. Not much, but enough to make an impression after all this time. He looked pensive, like the weight of the world sat on his shoulders, but maybe it was just the weight of the consequences he had to face.

Your eyes ran over every inch of him multiple times, intentionally avoiding his gaze for as long as possible. Seconds and minutes passed, and you weren’t really sure how much exactly. 

Spencer knew, though, of course, he did. If his fear of meeting you eye to eye was as great as yours was, you knew he was counting until the torture of the act itself was over. 

89 seconds he’d counted, although now with you there, they felt longer than the days without you did. 

When you eventually met his gaze, you felt a part of your heart chip on the inside. What people said about the eyes being a portal to one's soul couldn’t have been more right in that moment. Spencer, a man who excelled at hiding his emotions when he really wanted to, had let them out as clear as day for you to see. 

His eyes sparkled with so much sadness and guilt that it threatened to take you apart even before he had the chance to talk. Something softened within you at that moment, but in the next instance, it was like someone else took over. 

One moment you wanted to cry for him or with him, and the next you felt like your whole being needed to be let out. 

“Is that…is that all you can offer me right now? More of your silence? Don’t you think I’ve had enough of that?” The questions, a few of many to follow, had a bite to them. 

His face fell a little, taken aback by your tone. He fidgeted with his fingers, unsure what to say, or where to start. How could he answer your question? He pictured a scenario where his words flew freely, where he gave you an explanation worthy of forgiveness and a confession, so earnest that it ended with you in his arms. 

Try as he might, the words didn’t come to him, just a barely audible accusation. 

“That’s not fair.”

You scoffed, as if in outrage. A madness, one born out of so much heartbreak, took over, it was blinding. If someone had asked you to explain yourself, you’d say that wasn’t you. You’d never be so forward, almost cruel, to him, but at that moment, being mad sounded so much better than being vulnerable. Like a shield, you weren’t ready to let go of yet.

“How exactly is this not fair, Spencer? It’s the truth!” you yelled, and you felt free, finally letting it all out. “You want to know what isn’t fair, though? The way you isolated me OUT of your life! For three months, I’ve had to stand on the sidelines and beg for scraps, just to know you were okay. Every pitiful look I’d get from the people I consider family felt like another stab to the heart. That’s what’s not fair!” You were screaming so loud. It was a good thing the range was soundproof, otherwise, the whole of the BAU would have been deep in your business by now. 

If he looked surprised by the accusation, he didn’t really show it. His posture took a turn, though. The rigidity disappeared, and in turn, it opened, as if the need to comfort you overpowered the uncertainty or the mask he’d had to hold while imprisoned. 

You didn’t want his comfort, not right now. Maybe later, when all was said and done, you’d get to have a normal conversation without the frustrations of the past. At that moment, you just wanted everything out of your system. You wanted the questions, the answers, and the truth. 

His silence continued as he started closing the distance between you. You wanted to move, to create more distance, but there was nowhere to go. You were squeezed between the range, and him. Whatever else was left than to continue begging for clarity.

“It’s not fair being sent away the first time I came to see you. To learn you didn’t want to see me! Each time it was my turn to visit you, do you want to know where I was? I sat outside that fucking prison, wishing for a glimpse of the person who’s been my rock for 12 years! Holding back tears, thinking you didn’t…you didn’t care like I did. Is this what I really deserve after 12 years by your side?” You almost slipped, you almost told him, and maybe you should have, it might have prompted him to talk or to say something. But no, he stayed silent. Step after step, he limped, his cheek twitched, and his brows furrowed, but like a coward, he remained quiet. 

He was meters away from you, three more steps, and he’d completely close the distance, and meet you face to face. 

“Say something, Spencer, damn it!” Your throat burned from the strain, and he advanced even more. “Anything,” you finished in a whisper, and all of a sudden, all the fight left you, and your eyes watered and your vision went blurry. 

He was just a step away then, and when you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t help but see how they shined. 

He reached forward, one hand taking hold of your arm while the other went to hold your waist, but you shook your head. “No, Spencer, please,” you whispered. You didn’t want to find yourself in his arms, because that would be the last of your composure, gone. You’d surrender to the feel of him like you even had a choice not to. 

He didn’t stop, not until you were snug into his arms, one of his hands at the back of your neck, holding your head tenderly, but the arm around your waist held onto you as if he was scared you’d slip away from him. 

Once in his arms, you finally let go, breaking down into pieces, hoping he’d be able to hold them all from crumbling to the ground. 

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” He kept repeating, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your pulse point. All the while, you could only stand, your arms at your sides, as if paralyzed.

Being in his arms felt like being home somehow. It felt so right after having been deprived of the feeling for so long. It felt like there was nothing wrong, and nothing could go wrong at that moment. 

Even though you hadn't initially wanted his comfort, somewhere deep inside, you craved his tender touch. You craved the feel of his body near and the faint scent that was so uniquely him - a mix of coffee, fall, and old paper, books. You realized then that you craved the sound of his voice too, another part of him you’d been deprived of. 

The voice of the always rambling boy that never failed to bring a smile to your face, even when you couldn’t understand him sometimes. 

And the more he whispered, his voice broken and shaky, the harder you cried. You’d thought nothing could match the heartbreak of his actions or the anger of his silence, but the reality of being held against him brought the realization that your suffering mirrored his own. 

If you’d been dying on the inside for months, he’d been on the other side of the link holding you tethered to each other, dying just as much. 

And you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer after that. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, and your arms finally circled his waist underneath his suit jacket, fisting the back of his shirt as if it were your one lifeline. 

You felt him exhale when you finally returned his touch, most likely in relief, before he dropped a light kiss on your head. 

You cried for the relief of having him back and close. For unspoken truths and time wasted, years of figuring out feelings clear as day. For all the anger, for all of his silence, for all you felt for him. 

He cried for all the pain he’d caused you and for all the time he’d wasted being alone instead of being with you. He cried for himself, he cried for you, and he cried, overwhelmed by his feelings for you. 

You clung to one another, crying, and minutes were passing and neither of you cared. Not when you had each other. 

After a while, when both your tears dried out and your cries quieted, but you still felt the need to hold each other close, you dared to murmur a broken “Why?” hoping he’d hear, hoping he’d understand. 

It didn’t take him long to mumble a reply, no longer silent. 

“All the words in the world available, and I wish I could explain.” it came out just as quietly, both of you scared to break the little bubble you’d found yourselves in. 

You pulled back from him, wanting to look into his eyes, red-rimmed and still sparkling when you felt yourself begging again. 

“Then try, please, because I’d rather know, and not understand, than not know at all.” And it was the truth. He could speak in riddles if he wanted, but you needed to know why he’d made that choice. 

You looked at him expectantly before he pushed a piece of hair back, and his hand once again settled at the back of your head, gently cupping it. 

“I wanted you safe from a world you didn’t belong in,” he admitted on an exhale, like a lifelong secret he’d gotten tired of holding onto. 

You looked at him in wonder, and it was on the tip of your tongue to tell him he didn’t belong in that world either, but just as you opened your mouth to speak, he shook his head. 

“I was ashamed when I had you removed from the visitor’s list. I didn’t want you to see me like that, like a criminal,” he started, pulling you into his arms, not wanting to admit it to you eye to eye, out of fear of being right. Of course, he was wrong, but that didn’t stop him from wondering. 

“The first time JJ visited me, they leered at her like they were being fed fresh meat, taking her in, committing her to memory. A cage full of animals. I knew then that I didn’t want that for you, and any guilt I had at keeping you away disappeared that day. It hurt me, knowing I was failing you and whatever trust you had in me,” he whispered, wishing to keep the reality of his thoughts and his feelings in a little bubble as if you only existed in it.

“I’m not the same person I was before, I couldn’t be him, even if it meant losing a part of myself in the process. I couldn’t really be a decent human being without bearing the consequences. Everything I saw, everything I did, and everything that was done to me, I don’t think I’d ever fully be the person I was before. And that too, I’m thankful I spared you from seeing.” It would explain his rigidity, a defense mechanism he’d had to get used to. 

And while everything he’d said thus far was true the biggest truth, he’d had yet to say. He had yet to really explain why he’d done what he’d done in the first place. He was stalling, still afraid, but the longer he held you, the longer he felt your heart beating in time with his, the more sure he became. 

To hell with the consequences, to hell with whatever happened after, he was right here in the now, alive, breathing, his arms around you, finally at peace. 

He pulled back, took your face into his hands, and finally whispered.

“Most of all, though, I knew I loved you enough to risk us if it meant keeping you safe.” It left him in a rush, a confession waiting to be let out for months. A feeling he’d had for years, and a moment where he could finally be open about it. 

“What…?” you licked your lips, shocked that you might not have heard him correctly. ”What does us mean?” This part of the conversation felt like you were daydreaming about it, it just didn’t feel real. 

“It means whatever you want it to be. Whatever you want us to be.” All of a sudden, it was that simple. 

“So, you love me?” You had a hard time taking it all in, yet your heart fluttered in pure happiness. “And you…you want us?” 

"Yes.” Even before you were done speaking, he was already answering. He was desperate to finally admit he was absolutely smitten by you. 

Months of figuring out your feelings, years of hiding them, a conversation to finally prompt a confession out of you, and all this time it was reciprocated. You could have cried, happiness like no other coursing through you, pure bliss. 

You wanted back into his arms, you wanted to kiss him so badly that your blood was burning from the need to feel him like you'd never been able to before. And yet, you knew there was something else you needed to do before you could finally do it.

“Spence, you don’t push away the people you love, no matter the cost. You rely on their love to help aid you when you’re at your lowest.” You gave his sides a light squeeze before you looked back into his eyes, only to see them hopeful and uncertain at the same time.

He looked hopeful, for the possibility that you might actually love him back, but uncertain because it felt like you might be pushing him away this time. 

“I can’t go through this again. Having to watch you wither away, in prison, at home, or by your own thoughts, I won’t be able to handle being pushed away again,” whispers, cries, pleas, memories full of heartbreak intertwined with present confessions full of joy. 

His eyes watered then, his lips trembling. Any sign of hope was gone, and in its’ place stood the realization of a man who’d maybe gone a little too far. He’d pushed you away, and now, it was your time to be the one sticking and twisting the knife deep, breaking his heart in the process. 

If someone were to ask him at that moment what his biggest regret was, he’d say this. This was his biggest regret, his own choices. 

A tear escaped him, and you reached up, wiping it away gently before you spoke again.

“If..if this is going to go anywhere, you need to rely on me. You need to believe that I can handle anything and everything, just as long as you are by my side. All those years of being pushed away - your addiction, Maeve and Gideon’s deaths, your mom’s diagnosis, Cat Adams - you weren’t alone then, you aren’t alone now, and you won’t be alone in the future. You’ll always have me by your side, you’ll always have my support. Most of all, you’ll have my love, but when things get hard, I need you to lean on me, and trust that I can help you because together we can pull through everything, anything is possible as long as we are together.” You finished on an exhale, full-on crying now. You could barely see him, but from the little you could, you saw tears streaming down his face, and a smile that grew wide, happy.

Those words, he knew them word for word. For 13 days, he’d repeat them, no longer needing to see them written down, he had them engraved in his brain. Your letters he could recite, but your final one he’d remember as long as he lived. 

“I promise to lean on you and trust that you’d help me because together we can pull through everything, anything is possible as long as we are together,” he whispered back, his eyes searching yours for just a moment before he pulled you in, and finally, his lips met yours. 

He kissed you, tentative at first, testing the waters. He wanted to take his time, commit your lips to memory, gentle, and plump, exactly how he’d imagined they’d feel. The more he kissed you, the more he couldn’t stop. Passion, urgency, desire - his kisses turned desperate like he wanted to swallow you whole and never let you go. 

He bit your lip gently, asking for access, before his tongue intertwined with yours and he pulled you flush against him, closing any gap left between you. Chest, hips, there wasn’t an inch where you weren’t touching. 

It felt so familiar, even though you hadn’t kissed before. So right, like no one's kisses had felt before. As if your whole lives, kissing each other was the missing piece in a complicated puzzle, waiting to be put together. Coming together as one, it felt magnetic, a feeling of euphoria, pure ecstasy, no one else mattered, no other feeling mattered at that moment, other than your hands on each other and your lips locked together. 

Time was passing by, and you didn’t care. Years of missed opportunities, hidden feelings, and long-awaited realizations all led to this moment. Starved for each other, a kiss full of fervor and even the taste of tears was present. Unimaginable, but very real.

When you finally pulled apart, he wiped your tears, and you wiped his in turn, before he gathered you back in the comfort of his arms, laying a kiss on the side of your head.

And between the four walls around you, nestled in each other’s arms, the place where no one could touch you, in a shared breath you both whispered. 

“I love you.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[ultimate-shipper-blog]

‘Wrapped’ Around My Finger

“Good evening everyone! I’m your host Ann Romano joined tonight by two of the biggest names in music….please give it up for Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie Munson and Grammy winner Steve Harrington!”

The crowd goes wild.

This is a big deal, two of the biggest names in history with a giant rivalry.

Everyone knew the story. They grew up in a small town together and were on different levels of popularity ultimately ruining what could’ve been a fantastic friendship. Even now ten years since high school they can’t get over it. They hate each other always trying to one up each other.

Eddie trying to make a point that even the freaks can become famous. Stating, “I didn’t need money like Steve Harrington to win a Grammy I have my talent to thank for that.”

The two walk out onto the stage and sit on the couch making sure to leave some distance between them.

“Thank you both for coming out tonight! I know it’s a big trip from LA to New York. It probably helps that you live here huh Steve?”

“Actually I moved to LA.”

Eddie turns to look at him shocked.

“You moved? When did you move? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would it have mattered? It’s not like we see each other anyway. You can barely look at me and you’re sitting two inches from me.”

Eddie huffs in his seat and turns towards Ann, trying to remember what little of his media training he had.

“I only care because I’m a good neighborly fellow of course.”

Ann laughs flicks her hand at him.

“Oh you guys are just too funny. I knew you secretly cared for each other which brings me to my next segment, a game I like to call, “Wrapped Up!” You see gentleman, both of your agents gave me access to your Spotify wrapped and now we’re gonna let the audience in as well!”

The two turn white.

“Is that necessary?” Eddie asks through gritted teeth.

“Why not?” Steve adds in. “I have nothing to hide.” He narrows his eyes at Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes at him.

Ann laughs nervously. “Fantastic! Let’s jump to it!”

She gestures behind her where a giant screen shows Steve’s wrapped.

“Alight fellas, Eddie gets three points for every artist he guesses on the first try. He gets three tries, one point if he gets the artist by the third try.”

“Easy.” Eddie smirks.

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You always were easy.”

“Alright guys let’s focus on the game here!” Ann jumps in.

“Alright number 5….Wham.”

*a bell rings*

“Fantastic start Eddie!”

“What’d I say, easy,” he smirks.

“4. Tears for Fears.”

“3. ABBA.”

“2. Queen.”

“1. Toto.”

*incorrect buzzer sound*

“Ok…Madonna.”

*incorrect*

“Alright Eddie this is your last chance. You’ve done fantastic so far so I think you’re going to win no matter what. Sorry Steve.” Ann says.

“Hey none taken. I definitely didn’t even think he’d do this well.” Steve smirks at him.

“Alright big boy hold onto your pants. I got this.”

Eddie takes a deep inhale.

“Brittney Spears!”

*louder more incorrect buzzer*

“Ugh!”

“Sorry Eddie! But I don’t think even you could’ve guessed this one. Are you ready folks let’s see what it is-”

The crowd goes wild.

Steve’s smirks goes crazy.

Eddie is pale.

Up on the screen in big obnoxious letters is “CORRODED COFFIN”

“That’s right folks! Since Eddie did so well let’s let him play a similar game for Steve’s top songs. Are you ready Eddie!”

Eddie is not breathing.

“Um-”

“Great let’s start!”

“5….Girls just wanna have fun?”

*DING*

“4.Dancing Queen”

*incorrect buzzer*

“Material Girl”

*incorrect buzzer*

Eddie sighs.

“Crown of Thorns.”

*DING*

“That’s right Eddie! Your very own song Crown of Thorns was his number 4? Wanna take a guess at the rest?”

Eddie grits his teeth. “I’m not sure I have a choice.”

“Haha of course you don’t! Now! Number three!”

“3. Heavy is the Head.”

“2. Reign.”

“1….”

He looks nervous.

“Kneel Before the King.”

*DING*

“You got them! Fantastic work Eddie! Were you surprised that four of his five were songs written by you? How could you possibly guess them?”

“At first I was surprised…you know we have this rivalry thing going on but…I’ve been watching Steve since I was fourteen. I know him well. As soon as I saw his top artist I knew his top songs would be the ones I wrote about him.”

The crowd gasps.

“Don’t get me wrong I wrote a lot more about him but these in particular…”

“They’re about forbidden love.” Steve chimes in. His eyes are watering.

“Yeah.”

“That’s why they were my favorite.”

Eddie gives him a sad smile.

“You wrote them about me?”

Eddies smile turns into a frown. “About you, for you, it was always for you, all of them.”

“All of them?”

“Everything. My entire discography. Every performance. Every press tour. Every photo shoot. You just had to worm your way into my life Harrington…my heart.” He whispers that last part but they’re so close together Steve can hear it.

Well barely hear it…his heartbeat is so loud in his ears.

“Anyways Ann what’s next.”

Ann is staring at him in open mouthed shock.

“Wow. This so perfect.” She turns to Steve. “Ready for your turn?”

“Nah.” Eddie says. “Skip to my number one artist.”

Behind them a video starts playing on the screen.

“Hey it’s Steve! Thanks so much for being my number one fan! I mean top .01 percent is a tough spot to get! It means so much to me that I’m your number one artist-”

Steve can’t take his eyes off of Eddie, when could he ever?

“I’m your number one artist?” he asks so softly Eddie can barely hear it.

“Of course…I like the sound of your voice.” He shrugs his shoulder like it’s no big deal.

“Can we talk? I mean after the show?”

Eddie smiles at him.

“Of course Stevie, I’d like that.”

“I would also like to know!” Ann cuts in.

They forgot this was being streamed to millions of people and filmed in front of a live studio audience.

—————

Later Backstage:

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE MY NEW NEIGHBOR HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS!!!????”

“Honestly Eddie I don’t know. For someone who claims to be obsessed with me-”

“I didn’t-“”

“Obsessed.” Steve puts a finger to Eddie’s lips to shut him up. “You didn’t notice I’d moved in next door.”

“Hell just move in with me.”

“…alright.”

[brenwritesss]

Talent part 2

Paige Bueckers x reader

Summary: You and Paige talk more after the live, resulting in the two of you getting to know each other.

paigebueckers sent you a message.

"You said you had a thing for blonde hoopers?"

You smile at the message, expecting her to have said something like this. You weren’t blind; you did see all of the notifications of people tagging her in your comments, and you in hers. You saw what she said about you and your ex-girlfriend. And she was exactly your type so you were going to have fun with this. 

“Yeah I said that.”

Within seconds, you saw Paige typing and you wondered what she was going to say. However, you felt a bit of unease as you recalled memories from your previous relationship. You were a flirt, everyone on social media knew when they saw your interviews and even your songs were flirtatious. But you didn’t just want to flirt with Paige. You didn’t want to get hurt again or get your hopes up.

“Come to one of my games. I’ll make it worth watching.”

Your heart beat sped up, a blush creeping up on your cheeks. “I’ll think about it.”

“Are you gonna be in CT anytime soon?”

“Yeah, for a tour in a couple of months.”

“Where at?”

“Hartford.”

“Not that far from Storrs, sounds good to me.”

“What?” You were confused at what she was saying.

“I’ll come see you when you’re in Hartford and you’ll come to one of my games.” 

“And I don’t get a say in this?”

“What, like you’re gonna say no?”

You let out a small laugh, clutching your phone in your hands and practically kicking your feet in bed like a little kid. Texting her back you said, “No, I’ll say yes.”

“That’s what I thought.”

God, she was so hot.

You had decided to go scroll on TikTok, not wanting to give Paige the satisfaction of noticing how fast you were replying to her. Immediately upon opening the app, the clip of you and Paige on KK’s live flirting with each other was sure enough, going viral. You decided to take this opportunity to stalk Paige’s account to further see what you were getting yourself into. In the span of ten minutes, you found yourself towards the bottom of her page, looking at all of her old cringey TikTok’s that she filmed back when she was in highschool. 

Trying to scroll to the next video, your finger slipped, causing you to tap on the like button. “Oh shit,” you said to yourself as you quickly unlike it and mentally slap yourself in the face. Now Paige would know that you were stalking her Tiktoks. 

It wasn’t long before you received another DM from a specific blonde hooper:

“So instead of texting me back, you go stalk my TikToks?”

Shit. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Baby you’re not slick.”

Internally freaking out, you took a second to realize the current situation that you were in. I’m Y/n fucking L/n, there’s no way I’m getting this flustered by a college basketball player. You needed to fire back with some heat and fast before Paige found out she could have you wrapped around her finger. Texting back, you said, “baby you're not special.”

“Whatever you say, beautiful.”

Deciding to have some fun with her, you type, “you think I’m pretty?”

“Y/n, the whole world thinks you’re gorgeous.”

“I didn’t ask about the world, I asked about you.”

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen fr. I’m not even playing.”

A blush crept onto your cheeks while you smiled at your phone. You didn’t know how to respond to that, the only thing you could think of was, “thank you Paige.”

Her response was instant. “I can show you how pretty I think you are.”

“That could be taken so many ways.”

You could practically feel her smirking on her side of the phone. “I’ll take it wherever you want.”

“Interesting offer, Bueckers.”

“KK wanted me to tell you she’s a huge fan💀”

“Haha tell her I said I’m a huge fan of her. And that she’s invited to my show in Hartford.”

“Where’s my invite?”

“You listen to my music?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Then I guess you can come.”

“You guess?”

“I can tell security to not let you in if you’d like.”

“Okay, no I’m perfectly happy with my invite.” Before you could respond, she began typing again, “what’s your favorite flower?”

You were taken back by the random question. “Uh Lilies of the Valley. Why?”

“Just wondering. I’ve got practice but I’d like to talk more later if that’s chill with you?”

“Yeah, that’s cool.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”

You liked her message and put down your phone. You had to be careful because if this continued, you’d find yourself whipped and simping for Paige Bueckers. You let yourself fall asleep, thinking about your recent conversation with Paige. Don’t get hurt, was all that was replaying in your head. As long as you kept your guard up, not getting hurt should be easy.

Hours later, you woke up to the sound of your doorbell. You slowly got out of bed in nothing but an old t-shirt and shorts and made your way through your house to the front door. Checking your peephole, there was nobody standing there which you found quite odd.

Deciding to open the door, you couldn’t see anyone walking away from your door. Just as you were about to close it, your eyes drifted towards the ground and a bouquet of flowers caught your eye. Picking up the bouquet, you examined it. A small bouquet of Lilies of the Valley. You smiled and looked for a card inside the bouquet. Sure enough, you found one:

Let me show you how beautiful you are

-Paige

Her texts began to replay in your head. Yeah, you were definitely fucked.

[cherryredstars]

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Age Gap, Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Facesitting, Breast Play, Body Worship, Praise, Aftercare

Summary: darlin' hold me while you wipe my tears, fallin’ you say i’m wise beyond my years

A/N: An anonymous request that I LIVE for!!! Inspired by @osaemu's fic.

Word Count: 3.9K (Not Edited)

You should have used waterproof mascara.

You should have known no matter how sparkly your dresses were, how perfect your makeup was, or how pretty you looked, he’d always find attention from someone else who did it ten times better. But you had still hoped. Hoped that on your own goddamn birthday, your own boyfriend would spare you even a second of attention. Instead, you’re tilting your head back outside on his shitty mansion’s balcony so your tears don’t ruin your makeup. 

If your boyfriend was going to fuck every girl at this party but you, you wanted to at least look somewhat pretty and not like the sad, lonely mess you know you are. You embarrassed yourself enough when you had stormed up to him, interrupted his groupie make out session, and slapped him across the face screaming about breaking up with him. You can feel your chin wobble at the thought, and you sniffle and blink rapidly at the sky in an attempt to banish the new wave of sadness that courses through you. Best present ever! Your late twenties are treating you sooo well!

The sound of the balcony door opening catches your attention, and you’re quick to hastily wipe the tears streaming down your face as you clear your throat. You turn towards the door, ready to give whoever it is a wavering smile and a, Oh! I’m just out getting some fresh air! The smell of cigarettes was so strong haha! I promise I’m not crazy and go around slapping people on my birthday! But, you’re surprised to see Miguel, Gabe’s dad, standing there with a bottle of beer in his hand. And he's staring at you. You sniffle again, blinking rapidly. Gabe’s almost a carbon copy of his father, minus the ruggedness that comes with aging. Miguel also has the working man appearance to him, rough around the edges from hard work that his son doesn’t have. Miguel looks exactly like your usual type, but of course you had to go for his young, stupid son. 

You can feel tears beginning to spill from your eyes again and you turn away. You’re sure he’s going to kick you out, question you on why you’re still here after making a scene and slapping his son in front of everyone. You try to muffle your teary hiccup by placing your palm over your mouth as you rest your elbows on your knees. Miguel sighs deeply, moving to sit on the chair parallel to yours. You turn your head slightly as you catch movement, wet eyes noticing the half empty beer bottle Miguel silently holds out for you. You blink at it for a few seconds in confusion, only understanding that he’s offering it to you when he shakes it slightly in his hand. 

You pull your mouth away from the palm of your hand and shake your head slightly as you mumble, “I don’t drink.”

He doesn’t say anything in return, taking the bottle back and taking a sip. You study him for a second, waiting for him to get mad or something, but he just looks straight ahead admiring the view as he sips on his beer. After a while, you do the same. You look straight ahead, feeling the tears dry on your face. Your face feels slightly sticky from the tears, and you have a feeling you’ve smudged your mascara and eyeliner. 

Now that you’re not focused on crying all the water out of your body, you realize how cold it is outside. You shiver, only lasting a few more minutes before you’ve decided you rather not die of hypothermia tonight. As you’re about to get up, Miguel speaks up. 

“I’m sorry about, Gabe. I don’t know how he turned into such an ass. He’s a piece of shit for making a pretty thing like you cry on your birthday.”

When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking at you. You give him a tight lipped smile, shrugging in mock-indifference. 

“It’s okay, I didn’t like him that much anyways, no offense.” Then, to lighten the mood, “I’m not an expert on feelings, but I don’t think he liked me that much either.”

Miguel stares at you like he doesn’t believe you when you say you don’t like him, but it’s the truth. You haven’t really felt anything romantic for Gabe in a while. The only reason you’ve stuck by him was because he’s the only person you really know in Nueva York. But now, you’re all by yourself in this big ass city. At least you love your job. 

“Yeah, well, he’s an idiot for letting you go. Trust me, sooner or later he’s going to regret it.” Miguel defends you. He looks personally offended at the thought of his son, or anyone, not liking you. 

His words make your smile brighten slightly and you laugh, “Thank you, but I really doubt that. By tomorrow he’ll probably forget I even existed.”

Miguel scowls at that, and you yelp when his hand reaches out and pulls your chair towards his. Your knees knock with his, and you have to hold onto the armrest of his chair to prevent yourself from falling on top of him. You look up at him with wide eyes, breath stifling from how close his face is to yours. Your heart beats erratically as he leans in close, the almost red-brown of his eyes getting more detailed. Your eyes can’t help but trail down to his lips. They’re slightly glossy from his beer, and for the first time, you're tempted to try it. 

You’re quickly startled out of your thoughts when Miguel’s hand grips your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. They’re slightly hooded as he looks down the end of his nose at you, and you gulp nervously. His thumb caresses your skin gently, and you have to work hard to not close your eyes as he leans his face down. Instead of the kiss you thought he was going to give you, he shifts until his mouth is close to your ear. 

Your disappointment quickly disappears as your breath hitches. His breath his warm against your ear as he whispers, “He should have treated you like a fucking queen.”

Your heart skips a beat, eyes dropping to your thigh as Miguel’s other hand moves to rest on it. It kneads the plush skin softly before sliding up and fiddling with the ends of your dress. His hand looks so big on your body. You can feel the calluses on his fingers, they’re rough and cracked. Totally different from the too soft hands of Gabe. The hard difference between a man who works hard to get what he wants and a boy who expects everything served to him on a silver platter. 

Miguel’s hand begins to slip under the edge of your dress, and your body straightens with your gasp as his fingers skim the center of your panties. You can practically sense Miguel’s smile as his fingers ever so lightly brush up and down. You can’t help the way your body squirms at his touch, thighs threatening to close around his hand. His fingers float higher and higher, until they’re pressing against your clothed clit. You can feel yourself dripping into your panties and you whine. 

“I can treat you like the queen you are.” 

Miguel’s voice distracts you from his hand, eyes moving up to his face as he moves away from your ear. His eyes are glossy with lust, something hot in his gaze. You can feel yourself clench around nothing, and based on the way Miguel’s eyes darken, he felt it too. His words pound against the walls of your brain, repeating and stretching as you think up of what he means. 

In the end, all you can let out is a: “W-what?”

Behind the lust, Miguel’s eyes flicker in amusement. His hand leaves your chin, sliding up your face until he’s twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. “Let me show you how you should be treated. How a man would treat you.”

His proposal burns through your stomach, your eyes blinking rapidly as you breathe in deeply. You can smell the slight tinge of beer mixed with the masculine scent of cinnamon and firewood. It makes your brain dizzy, coaxing you to nod in agreement. Miguel’s hand stops playing with your hair instantly, eyes falling over your face for any sign of indecision. He doesn’t find any, but he still needs verbal confirmation. 

“You gotta tell me clearly, baby.” He urges, leaning his face close again.

He’s a millimeter away, your lips brushing against his as you say, “Please.”

Your only warning is the rumbling groan he lets out before he’s catching your lips in a searing kiss. You whine against his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as his teeth nip at your bottom lip. You lean more into him, arms hesitantly coming to wrap around his neck and tangle in his hair. Your lips part when you feel his own hand push onto the small of your back, allowing his tongue to slip through. Both of you moan into the kiss when your tongues meet, the remains of bitter beer invading your taste buds. It should be disgusting, should remind you of all the times Gabe slobbered all over your mouth in a drunken make out, but it doesn’t. Miguel is experienced, knowing where to place his hands and where to caress with his tongue. His lips move with calculated confidence where Gabe would open and close his mouth like a fish. 

Right as your mind becomes slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen, Miguel pulls away. His eyes are still trained to your lips, now plump and wet with spit. He hisses under his breath, cherishing the yelp you let out as he quickly lifts you as he stands. Your arms stay wrapped around his neck, only tightening as he sets you into a bridal-style carry. His sudden display of strength makes you clench your thighs. Gabe never offered to carry you, mumbling something about not wanting his arms to get sore. But Miguel carries you like you weigh nothing, even trusting to support you with a single hand as he opens the sliding door and closes it behind the two of you. 

The loud music hits you full blast, the smell of nicotine and alcohol following. From Miguel’s arms, you can see Gabe still on the couch with his entourage of girls. Even from the distance and colored lights, you can see the redness of his cheek where you’ve slapped him. You’re quickly forgetting about him again when Miguel starts moving, carrying you up the stairs. He pauses in front of the door two away from Gabe’s. Miguel’s room. He opens it and locks it behind the two of you, depositing you on his large bed. 

It smells strongly of him, and you have to fight yourself to not breathe in deeply. His sheets feel heavenly against your skin, caressing it like silk. The mattress sinks under you slightly, cocooning your body. It sinks deeper as Miguel crawls on top of you. Your hips are caged by his knees as he kneels, arms holding him up by your head. They come to rest under your head, pulling you up to kiss you again. The two of you sink back into the bed as your tongues clash, and you squeal when Miguel flips you over so you’ve swapped positions. He chuckles against your lips, pulling away and smiling when you pout at him. 

“Shhh,” He smiles, hands sliding down to the zipper of your dress. He drags it down slowly, watching as the straps of your dress fall away and slide down your shoulders, “Let me worship you.”

Your thighs tighten around his waist, blinking down at him as he pushes your dress down to reveal your bare breasts. There wasn’t any need for a bra with your dress having built in padding. You gasp when he surges forward, holding you in place with his hands on your waist as he sucks one of your boobs into his mouth. Your hands tangled into his hair, head tilting back with a moan as he licks and teasingly bites down on your nipple. One of his hands slides up to your upper back, pressing so your chest is pushed against his face. He moans around your nipple, hungrily lapping and sucking as he looks up at you. He’s entranced by the way your lips part as you moan and whine, your neck revealed to him as your face faces the ceiling. 

He can feel his cock twitch in his pants, distracting himself by giving your other breast attention. His eyes practically roll to the back of his head as you tug on his hair. When he’s satisfied, he parts from your breasts with a final kiss to both of your nipples. They’re hardened and shiny with his saliva, and he’s almost tempted to go back for seconds. But he has other things in mind. You watch him as he lays flat on his back, the hand at your back returning to your waist so his other can reach under your dress. You gasp, hands planting on his chest as he rips your underwear off of you. Your eyes are wide as he brings them up to his nose, squeezing at your waist as he moans at the scent. 

He stuffs them into his pocket, both hands now planted on your waist again. He bunches your dress around your waist, looking like a goddess as all your privates are revealed to him. He picks you up, your hands gripping the headboard as he sits you on his face. The noise you let out is close to a scream as his lips instantly attack your clit, sucking it into his mouth. His tongue is warm against your aching bud, your eyes rolling back with another loud moan when his tongue slides against your folds. You want to cry when he pulls you off his face slightly, his chin already sparkly with slick. 

“Gods baby, you’re so sensitive. Gabe never eat you out before?” He teases, but he quickly loses the smirk on his face when you whimper out a no. He rolls his eyes, mumbling out pinche imbécil before diving back into your folds. 

You can’t help bucking against his mouth, his nose beginning to nudge at the bud between your legs. He groans under you in appreciation, and you feel it throughout your whole body. You’re a whiny mess on top of him, your sounds drowning out the music from downstairs. One of your hands comes to tangle in his hair to help guide your movements, and his hands start rocking your hips to help out. He can feel you clenching against his mouth, your orgasm close. For a second he debates not letting you finish and instead making you come around his cock. But no, he isn’t greedy. He’d let you have all the orgasms you want. You deserve to be deeply satisfied and fucked out. Plus, he needs to make up for all the times his son failed to get you to your peak. 

He’s definitely happy with his choice as you fucking scream his name, back arching as you lean against the headboard. Your thighs twitch around his head, your breath heavy as you whine. Your release flows into his mouth like thick honey, and it tastes just as sweet. He can feel himself twitch in his pants again, and he holds you down to prevent you from getting up. He needs to make sure he swallows every last drop you’re giving him. Has to show you how grateful he is that you’re giving him your sweet release. When he finally lets you off, you do so on numb legs. You roll to the side, chest still heaving as he groans.

“Fuck hermosa, taste fucking divine.” Miguel praises, his body hovering over yours again. 

You whine up at him, pulling him into a shy kiss that he returns desperately. You can taste yourself on his tongue and you whimper. As he shares your taste with you, his hands finally get rid of the rest of your dress. He pulls away once it’s off, resting his forehead against yours as his hands undo his belt buckle. 

“You’re gorgeous, y’know that? A fucking vision. And you’re all mine.”

Your body arches into him at his words, hands exploring the expanse of his clothed chest as he gets his pants off. His chest leaves your hands as he sits up again, rapidly undoing the buttons of his button-up and hurriedly taking it off. Both of you are naked, and his eyes get the chance to explore you as you explore him. He’s built in muscle, a little chub at his stomach that has you leaking onto his sheets. His cock hangs heavy in between his legs, unable to hold up its own weight. It makes your mouth water and you almost beg him to put it in your mouth. 

You’re distracted from your filthy fantasy when Miguel’s finger lands at the end of your throat and in between your collarbones. He slides it down, goosebumps mapping where he touched. He brings his finger down the valley between your breasts, dragging it to your stomach, and ending its journey at your clit where he taps on it gently. The whole time he holds his breath as if breathing would disturb the perfection in front of him. It makes your body sing, arching into his touch with a small noise that he soaks up. 

“Fucking perfect,” he whispers into the darkness of the room, leaning back over you.

You can fill his tip rubbing between your thighs, smearing his precum on your skin. You spread your legs wider for him, and you gasp when he grabs them and pushes them up to your chest and over his shoulders. He kisses the side of your knee, eyes peering down at your face as he guides his tip to your entrance. He rubs it up and down slowly, collecting your dripping arousal and nudging at your clit until your body is jolting in sensitivity. When he brings it back to your weeping hole, it slides in with little resistance.

You moan needily as it enters you, and you clench around his tip. It makes Miguel’s mouth drop with a groan, trying to push past your tightness, “You’re so tight, loosen up for me baby.”

You try to relax your walls, but every time he slides further in, your walls clench in pleasure. It makes him chuckle, and he toys with your clit to help your efforts. It works well, and he slides in easily as he rolls your bud in circles. 

“Fuckkk, that’s it baby. Taking this cock so well.”

You whine, back arching as he bottoms out. His balls are flush against your skin, and you squirm on his cock as he begins to slide out. You gasp out when he thrusts back in, hitting against your cervix. Your hands reach above you to bury into the plush pillows, mewling as he starts building up a pace. You try to turn your head away, closing your eyes tight as you moan, but Miguel reaches down so you face him and force eye contact. Your eyes are completely dazed from pleasure, lust threatening to spill through your tears. Miguel groans at the sight, his hips beginning to thrust into you faster. Your gummy walls drag against his length, fluttering every now and then as he works you towards another orgasm. It makes his cock twitch inside of you, and he hides his face in your neck and leaves bruising marks. The way he presses into you makes him hit deeper, hitting that spot inside of you that makes you impossibly close to climax. Your hands leave the pillows to rake down Miguel’s back with hiccuped mewls of his name as you feel your stomach burn. 

“I know, baby,” Miguel grunts, teeth clenched as his hips start stuttering. “I know, I’m right there too. Let go, I got you.”

With his reassurance and the persuasion of a few more thrusts, your body tenses. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, body arching and twitching as you come. Feeling your walls clench so tightly around him makes Miguel explode soon after, moaning out your name. He works both of you through your orgasms with shallow thrusts that slowly dwindle to a halt. He breathes heavily into your neck, groaning as he slowly pulls out of you with a wet squelch. His face hovers over yours, showering you in chaste kisses that have you letting out breathy giggles. 

Once Miguel has caught his breath he gets up, carrying you as he stands off the bed and walking towards the bathroom. He places you down on the sink’s large counter top, your body shocked by the cold marble. He parts from you with a slow kiss to your lips, turning to prepare a bath for you. When the tub fills with steamy water, he picks you up again, stepping in and sitting down with you between his legs. You sigh as the water soothes your aching body. Miguel’s hands begin to massage your body, whispering small praises into your skin and leaving kisses along your neck and shoulders. The coziness of the atmosphere makes you sleepy and you try to stifle a yawn. 

Miguel smiles against your skin as he hears it, and he begins to run his fingers through your hair, “Go to sleep, I’ll take care of you.”

And just like that you’re asleep.

--------------------------------------------------

The next morning, you’re woken up with kisses along your naked shoulder. You smile before you open your eyes, turning around to meet Miguel’s face. He hums when you turn to him, pulling you against him more and kissing your cheek. You chuckle at the affection, kissing the crown of his head as you rake your hands through his hair. 

“Morning, hermosa.” He mumbles to you, eyes shining at your presence. 

“Good morning, handsome. Want some coffee?” You reply, smiling wider when Miguel nods. 

You get out of bed, grabbing Miguel’s button up from last night off the floor. You button it up just enough to cover everything, and you hear Miguel groan from the sight from his place on the bed. You giggle, promising to be quick as you leave his room. When you go downstairs, the place is still trashed from the party. You roll your eyes at the mess, feeling bad for the cleaners and already knowing you’re going to offer them help. Luckily, the kitchen is still functional and you begin to brew Miguel’s coffee. You hear footsteps approaching as you fill a mug, turning to see Gabe. 

He’s rubbing his eyes when he enters, the tell-tale expression of a hangover on his face. He pauses when he sees you, squinting as the sunlight pours from the kitchen window. 

“What are you still doing here?” He asks gruffly, eyes falling to the mug of coffee in your hands. You don’t like coffee, he only knows because you complained about it all the time when he got you one. 

You roll your eyes at his tone, setting the spoon down on the sink. You grab the mug and begin walking over to Gabe. For a moment, he thinks the coffee is for him and he begins to reach out for it. But he pauses as your hand cups his cheek mockingly and you coo at him like he's simply a toddler with an attitude.

“Now, now, Gabe. That isn't how you should treat your step-mom, is it?”

[yuusishi]

. . . a shell gift

pairings : Neuvillette x gn!mermaid!reader

genre : fluff , written before 4.0 release

cws/tws : none

a/n : haha. do tou guys get it. a shell gift…a swell gift… also I should rlly start making the genshin masterlist but I’m like…so lazy rn

Neuvillette !!

“And…what is this supposed to be?” Neuvillette asked, holding the pink clam shell adorned with minuscule pearls and pieces of ribbon glued on.

As if rehearsed, a little white otter popped up beside you from the water, “Look at this tiny guy, don’t you think you look like him? He even has a pink clam shell too!” Neuvillette furrowed his brows and his gaze land on the creature next to you, its white fur and dark blue highlights reminiscent of the man in front of you.

“You called me all the way to the sea to compare me to an otter?” He said, it sounds mean but you know he bears no ill will, “C’mon, Neuvi, you’re always working nowadays. It’s nice to take a break, y’know?”.

Neuvi.

You were right, it has been a long time since he’s got to fully immerse himself in the sea, to the point he felt that it’s been too long since he’s heard you call him by that nickname. He doesn’t even know when you started calling him that.

Neuvillette sighed and looked at you “You can come join me if you want, I’m definitely not going to stop you” you smiled, another sight he felt he’s gone too long without seeing. He knew he had to go to work already, he knew he has Focalors waiting at the Court of Fontaine, but what is he if not weak towards the temptation that’s you.

Slowly stepping into the waters, he relieved himself of the clothes tailored for his human form and let him breathe in the fresh waters in his original form, one built for the seas. He breathes out a satisfied sigh, like getting in bed after a long day, it’s also been too long since he’s dived back into the water.

He looks back at you and you’re once again smiling brightly at him, your gaze warm.

“Welcome home, Neuvi”.

—

Once again, he’s back in his office, the stuffy feeling filling up his senses and he felt unusually distracted by it all when he thought he got used to it already. He opened his desk’s drawer and takes out the pink shell that you gave him earlier that day, what was supposed to be just a ten minute visit turned into the entire afternoon being spent swimming around and playing games with you which earned him overtiming late into the night.

But he doesn’t regret it, he felt grateful you basically forced him out of the suffocating environment around him and took him back home. Neuvillette inspects your gift closer, it was hard to see that you even put glitter on the shell and waterproof stickers behind it, were you planning to tempt him to swim with you from the start?

A rare smile makes its way into Neuvillette’s usually stoic face as he sets the gift beside his desk lamp, he felt like it was wrong to hide something so precious to him.

[sinnersweets]

DogDay x Reader part 6

<;-----part 5, part 7----->

“Alright class listen up!” Miss Delight called out. The children settled down and listened to what she had to say. “As you know, our fall festival is approaching which means that it’s time to start our yearly fall theater show! Normally each group would perform separately but this time my sisters and I have decided to combine everyone together! I’m proud to say that this year we will be doing; drum roll please!” Everybody's hands started tapping on the desk for the drumroll. Me and DogDay also joined in with the children. “Beauty and The Beast!”  

Some kids were ecstatic while others groaned in annoyance. I liked Beauty and The Beast. “Tryouts will start around 5 o’clock. Those who wish to be a part of it please come up to my desk to receive the tryout scripts. And to those who do not wish to be a part of the show will be assigned as the stage crew.” Most of the children got up and went over to Miss Delights desk while a few stayed in their seats. Damian got up to get a script. “Our script is usually handed to us right before auditions start.” DogDay whispered to me. “Huh? ‘Our script?’ We have to audition also?” DogDay smiled and nodded. “Gives us a chance to interact with the other kids.” I wasn’t expecting this. DogDay pulled me into him before saying, “I have full faith in you Angel, who knows you might get the lead!” “Haha....woopie.” 

--------------- 

The theater room was huge! From the outside it doesn’t look like this room even existed. Me and DogDay walked in together and this was the first time that I’ve seen all the Smiling Critters. “Hi DogDay!” “Hiya BB!” DogDay walked over to the group, and I followed behind him. “Oh? And who’s this?” The way Bobby Bearhug spoke sounded like she was not at all interested in knowing who I was but asked anyways. DogDay scooted me into him and held onto my shoulder. “This is my helper, Angel!” His tail wagged while talking about me. I smiled nervously at all the Smiling Critters; except for KickenChicken. I just rolled my eyes at him.  

Miss Delight came up to us and split the helpers and the Smiling Critters apart. I took a seat next to Sarah since she’s the only one I’ve really talked to. It was obvious that she didn’t want to talk to anyone since she put in headphones. I looked over to the Smiling Critters and saw that Bobby was just chatting away with DogDay. In the shadows I spotted CatNap. I tilted my head in confusion; weren’t they all supposed to be friends? I got up from my seat and started walking towards him. My heart was beating faster, and my palms got sweaty.  

“Hey CatNap.” I said nervously. It took ten seconds before he finally spoke. “Friend.” So creepy. I cleared my throat to talk but he beat me too it. “Sorry.” Woah, he apologized. “Wanted to apologize sooner.... but was kept away.” Kept away? “Oh that’s okay. What do you mean you were kept away?” He just stared at me again. “Doctors.” I was gonna press on but a voice from behind me caught me off guard. “Oh Y/N! It’s almost time for you to go on!” I turned around and saw that it was Miss Delight. “O-okay, coming!” I turned back around, and CatNap vanished once again. 

--------------- 

Two hours passed and soon everyone in Playcare auditioned. Miss Delight and her sisters all went backstage to select the cast while everyone else sat in the seats waiting for the verdict. I spotted Damian and made my way over to him. “Hey kiddo.” “Hey Miss Y/N.” I took a seat next to him and smiled. “So do you think you’ll get a part?” He asked me. I chuckled before saying, “Nah. I mean I did do theater back in high school, but it’s been a while.” It would be interesting if I got casted. In high school, I never got the lead due to being a nervous wreck. “How about you?” Damian looked proud and sat up straight. “Oh yes, I’m hoping I get cast at the candle man. He’s my favorite.” “I’m hoping you’ll get the part.” I ruffled his hair and then got up and looked for DogDay.  

It wasn’t hard to spot him since he was the second tallest one here, CatNap being the first. As I started walking over to him he spotted me and waved me over to him. “Over here Angel!” I couldn’t help but smile sweetly at him. He held out his paw for my hand and once I took it he pulled me into a hug. “I missed you Angel.” “I always looked over to you and waved.” I laughed and returned the hug. “Yes, but I would’ve rather had you sit next to me Angel.” My cheeks felt warm. Thankfully, the theatre room wasn’t lit up well so he couldn’t see. “Oh DogDay~” We both turned and saw that it was Bobby calling out for DogDay. “Y/N shouldn’t you be with the other helpers and not over here with DogDay?” Okay rude. “She’s allowed to be over here with me, she’s my helper.” DogDay said. I could see Bobbys’ eye twitch before saying, “Oh of course! Anyways DogDay; do you think I got the lead?” I pulled away from DogDay so that he could face her. While he spoke he held onto my hand. “No doubt in my mind that you auditioned well BB, but I think Angel here did pretty good as well.”  

Another eye twitch from Bobby. “Well seeing how I always get the lead I’m fully confident.” The lights suddenly flashed on, and everyone's attention went to the stage. Miss Delight stood there with her sisters. “Okay everyone! We are about to announce our cast if you could quiet down and take your seats!” Everyone started to take their seats. I was about to sit next to DogDay when Bobby beat me to it. I then tried the other seat next to him, but then KickenChicken sat there. “Hey Angel.” He spoke out while grinning. I was gonna leave and sit somewhere else, but DogDay grabbed onto me and placed me on his lap. “You don’t mind sitting like this do you Angel?” “N-nope! Not at all haha...” I could feel Bobby glaring daggers at me. 

Miss Delight started calling names and Damian got cast as Lumière. He walked onto the stage and me and DogDay cheered him on like proud parents. She then called out the rest of the cast: Miss Delight would play Mrs. Pots, Chip would be played by Todd; a kid from my group, Babette was played by Miley; a girl from CraftyCorns group, Wardrobe was played by Emily who was KickenChickens helper, PickyPiggy would be The Enchantress and Bubba Bubbaphant would be Maurice. “And now for our final four!”  

“Lefou will be played by Hoppy Hopscotch!” “Woo yeah!” Hoppy jumped up and walked over to the stage. DogDay clapped for his friends. “Next up we have Gaston who will be played by... KickenChicken!” “Radical!” KickenChicken got up and made his way up onto the stage. “And now the role of The Beast will be played by- drum roll please!” The sound of everyone hitting their legs echoed through the room. “DogDay!” All eyes turned towards the back of the theater where DogDay was. “Really? Wow!” I got up and hugged DogDay excitedly. “Congrats DogDay!” “Thank you Angel!” “Congratulations DogDay~” Bobby said while removing one of DogDays paws off me. “You and I will be great together.” DogDay pulled his paw away and said, “They haven't announced who Belle would be played by so it might not be you BB.” He said that so cheerfully while making his way up to the stage that I almost laughed.  

I took a seat and Bobby glared at me before saying, “It’s pretty obvious that I’ll get the lead, I get it every time when we do it in our groups.” She sounded so cocky while she spoke. I didn’t say anything and just looked ahead at the stage. DogDay gave Damian a high five and also ruffled the top of his head. “Now ladies and gentlemen the moment you’ve all been waiting for; Belle will be played by-” “ME!” Bobby stood up proudly. “Miss Y/N!” Everyone in the audience gasped. I guess they all were expecting it to be Bobby. A spotlight shun down on me and I sunk into my seat. “Woo yay Angel!” “Way to go Miss Y/N!!” DogDay and Damian both cheered for me. I stood up and walked over to the stage with everyone else.  

As I made my way up the audience started to cheer for me; I even saw Sarah give me a thumbs up. I stood on the stage with everyone else and Miss Delight spoke out. “Those of you who did not audition or did not get cast will oversee the set and props! I look forward to this year's fall theater show!” All the remaining children and helpers stood up and applauded while Bobby glared even more daggers at me. “This role was made for you Angel, you’re already quite a beauty.” He then winked at me and stuck his tongue out. This time I’m sure he saw me blushing. Damian ran up to both of us and pulled us into a hug. It almost seemed like a kid hugging his parents; it was a sweet moment.  

A/N: Thank you for reading!!

[penelopeswifey]

ACCIDENTALLY YOURS!

CHAPTER 3 — WEIRDO!

a/n: so.. hey.. happy new year.. merry christmas... happy halloween. I'm SORRY FOR SAYING ID UPDATE MORE THEN LEAVING AND NEVER COMING BACK. I really forgot about Tumblr after a few days ☹️☹️ but HERE I hope you all had a good 2024 and a even better 2025!!

You just sat on your chair, contemplating life while deciding if you even wanted to live it

This is so humiliating.

Just when you thought your day couldn't get worse, you got a notification from someone you would rather die than talk to.

There is no fucking way.

Y/N stared at their phone screen, frozen.

" Funny how you kept whining about how overrated I was, wanna talk about those stories you've made? "

No. No. No.

The words burned into your brain as you read them over and over again. Scaramouche. THE Scaramouche.. The idol you dragged through the mud on countless streams and tweets. The same idol who was, apparently, now aware of your other identity.. the anonymous fanfiction writer who had single-handedly written half the internet’s “Scaramouche x Reader” content. The same person who shitted on him so much time!

You dropped your phone onto the desk and buried your face in your hands. Nope. This isn’t real. This is all a dream. It can’t be real. Why would it be real? There’s no way this is real. But when you peeked through your fingers, the message was still there, on the phone like it demanded your attention.

“Why.. why is this happening to me?” you whispered to yourself. Your brain was screaming at you to respond, but also screaming at you to jump out of your window where you could die or move to the countryside and become a farmer. But your fingers refused to move. What could you even say?

" Haha, just a prank, broski! " No, too weird. Who the hell says that.

" That wasn't me!.. " Yeah, because your whole stream was definitely ai generated.

No, none of this would work.

Maybe you could ignore it. Pretend you didn’t see the message. But what if he posted about it? What if he already had? But, he couldn't right?! He's an idol.. but just out of paranoia, you frantically opened Twitter, scanning his feed. Nothing. Yet.

Dropping your phone back onto the desk, you screamed into your hands begging to be taken out. But you were going through that crisis, your phone buzzed again. Another message.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” you muttered as you grabbed their phone.

Please don't be him again.

" I have to say, you’ve got quite the imagination. Because some of those scenarios? Bold. "

Your soul left your body. He read them. He actually read them. How many? Which ones? Did he see the one where he- no. nope, nope, nope. don't you dare think about that.

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, shaking. After a deep breath, you typed something anything- to atleast be able to solve this issue!

“ I can explain? 😁.. "

The response was immediate.

"Oh, please do. I'm very interested. "

You let out a strangled noise somewhere between a groan and a scream. Why did he have to be so smug about this?! This was his fault!, with his stupid face and his stupid voice and his stupid way of being the perfect material to write about! This is all his fault he knows damn well how he's acting In front of the camera does he expect no one to be taking one for the team and writing about him?!

“Look,” you typed, trying to sound calm, “it’s not like I’m the only one who writes this stuff. You just happened to find mine. "

His reply came in less than ten seconds.

“ Not hard to find when you've basically written half of the internet's fanfiction about me. "

You nearly chucked your phone across the room. Yes, death is definitely a better option, where's the nearest window? You couldn't even think straight before you typed back and sent

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you shot back

“ Oh, absolutely. This is the best thing I’ve seen all week. Do you always write such... intense stuff, or was it just for me? "

There's no coming back from that. You groaned, slamming your head onto the desk. There was no way you were living this down. Ever.

Driven by emotions instead of rationality, you texted back.

“I hate you.”

Another buzz.

“Doesn’t seem like it, judging by what you've written about me. "

You let out a soundless scream, shoving your chair back and pacing around the room, making laps as you ran around the house. Your heart was racing, your face felt like it was on fire.. out of embarrassment of course, NOT because you're interacting with THE scaramouche- the same one who in your fics did- yeah, stop.

Ignoring the continuous buzz of notifications erupting from your phone, you finally sat down from running laps and thought to yourself, knowing you just pulled yourself in a hole you sure as hell won't be escaping anytime soon.

He wasn't going to let this go, was he?

—

ACCIDENTALLY YOURS!

SYPNOSIS: You, a well-known streamer, have always kept your two hobbies separate. By day, you entertain thousands with your snarky commentary, but by night, you secretly write. fanfiction about your favorite idol, Balladeer. It was a guilty pleasure—until a late-night stream led to a slip of the tongue and exposed your secret to the world!

In a single moment of poor judgment and a misclick, which by the way was totally not your fault!.. I think.. clips and memes about you spread like wildfire! It was embarrassing enough for everyone to know about your fanfiction, but it spiraled down even further when they discovered you were writing about the very idol you  constantly claimed was overrated.

Just as you wallowed in self-pity, a notification pings on your phone. A familiar username and a blue checkmark.

Shit.

accidentally yours masterlist: chapter 4 —

-

taglist

@kaeuri @kazumiku @kyouzki @skyoverkill1 @flowzel @lalalaloveallmydays @sketcheeee @vi0let-writes @kunikuzushis-darling @js-a-silly-little-guy @simonisferal @jayzioxx @naevis-callingae @vxmp-loml @dxrling-xing  @suzueuieeeee @kinanahan @help-whatdoimakemyusername @khisuko @dearanemo @heusalettle @v4lerixxq @catorkitty @khsuvy @reivelmin

[juneknight]

Beneath His Breath

Kink: Forced orgasm

Dorm room Marc deserves this.

*

“I can do it,” he mutters softly, not to you, but to himself. He repeats it again and again, his head slowly lolling to the side. He suddenly jerks against his bonds, cock twitching in your grasp as he loses the battle against relaxing his muscles and thinking of something—anything—besides your lubed hand smoothing up and down his shaft. Marc lets out a frustrated breath, head thudding backwards against the headrest.

“Don’t you want to cum, Marc?” you murmur.

“No,” he mutters. His lips start moving again. Maybe he’s whispering song lyrics, like he was ten minutes ago. Or praying, like he had briefly twenty minutes ago. You glance down toward his cock and give your own shaky sigh. You have never seen him harder than he is now, his cock a dusky red. To switch things up, you let your lubed hand down to cup his balls, to feel the heft of them and how tight they’ve become after thirty minutes of focused edging.

Except it isn’t really edging if you’re trying to make him cum.

“You’re so pretty, Marc, you know that?” He doesn’t respond, lips still moving. Your thumb brushes along the spot where his sac meets his shaft. No response. “This iron clad willpower you’re scraping together is truly impressive.”

“Thanks,” he mutters. You lift his balls gently, searching for that spot behind them, pressing the pad of your thumb against it softly. Marc’s eyes open, staring at everything and nothing all at once as his jaw goes slack. Then his mouth shuts with a click, eyes squeeze tight as he swallows down the groan that vibrates through his entire bare, sweat-slicked chest.

“Very impressive,” you remark. “But baby, we both know you’re a little slut for me. How long do you really expect to last?”

“Til you give up,” he mutters, feet shifting restlessly beneath him. Though his hands are bound behind his back, you left his legs free. You know he likes to bounce his knee when he needs to distract himself. A glance toward your time shows that you have ten minutes and thirty-three seconds to make Marc cum or it’s Game Over.

“I’m never gonna give up, baby,” you whisper. “I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with your pretty dick in my hand. I’m gonna fuck and suck it as often as I choose, because you’ll always be hard for me, won’t you?”

“Stop,” he says, breaths growing even shallower. You know Marc’s body well: the length and girth of his cock, the spots that make him groan, the ones which give him goosebumps. The scars. The freckles. You know just where to touch and with how much pressure to coax a symphony of different sounds from him. All that, and you know that nothing turns him on more than getting inside his head, and the best way to do that is by talking to him.

“I don’t know why I’m even trying to make you cum,” your murmur. “I should leave you just like this, on the edge. Maybe put a ring on your cock. Then you’ll just be my toy, won’t you baby? A pretty toy. Prettiest cock I’d have ever fucked myself with, that’s for sure.

“Please,” Marc mutters, eyes flickering beneath his lids. He loses the rest of his breath, just mouthing the word again and again. Please, please, please.

“I’m gonna fuck myself so loose with you,” you sigh happily. “Keep you inside me even when I’m sleeping, ‘til my pussy feels empty whenever you—”

Marc cums. The first indication that you’ve pushed him over the edge is the breath he takes: full, chest expanding in a way he hadn’t let himself dare until now. His head lolls back, baring his corded throat to you as his mouth parts. In your lubed hand, his cock twitches, lengthening that last little bit before it bursts, cum splashing against the hard line of his abs in one, two, three spurts before spilling down over your knuckles as you work him through his orgasm. The groan that rips free of his throat is enough to haunt your dreams in the best way.

When at last his body has stopped trembling, you pump your other fist in the air.

“Haha! Take that, Spector! Now who’s doing the dishes?”

“Me,” he sighs.

“Say it, say it all in one sentence, it’s so beautiful—”

“I am going to do the dishes.”

You lean in and place a smacking kiss on his lips. He grins against your mouth and laughs at your enthusiasm, shaking his head a little as you untie him. Watching him flex his wrists and fingers, you see his mouth mutter one more thing.

You think he says, Worth it

[jujumin-translates]

[18TRIP] Ten Murakumo | [SSR] Crow Under The Full Moon | Two/Faced

Characters: ☁️ Ten Murakumo

Location: HAMA Tours - Office Floor

Momiji: Alright, finally done…!

Momiji: (I know it was a bad idea to work overtime, but it just didn’t sit right with me to rest with paperwork left to do.)

Momiji: Now I can just take it easy tomorrow…

Ten: Good work, Chief.

Momiji: Oh, Ten-kun. I thought you left already… Did you forget something?

Ten: Well, I guess you could say that. More importantly, are you done working?

Ten: Want to go out for a drink now? I’d love to treat you to a good drink as a reward for working so hard this late.

Ten: Sound good? Let’s go.

Momiji: (...This is a little suspicious. Since when has Ten-kun been the type to say something so admirable like that?)

Momiji: (But since he’s gone through the trouble of asking me…)

Momiji: Alright, but just one drink.

Ten: That’s the answer I was looking for. Miss, if you’d like to follow me.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Location: Bar

Momiji: It’s so quiet in here…

Ten: Have you been here before by any chance? Right. This is Kuguri-san’s favorite bar.

Ten: Last time he brought me here as a “reward”, I got totally hooked.

Bartender: Sorry for the wait. Here’s your Hungarian wine and Klondike Highball.

Momiji: Thank you very much.

Ten: Alright, a toast to all the hard work and effort done by you, Chief… Cheers.

Momiji: C-Cheers.

*Glasses clink*

Ten: Must be a lot having to deal with so many different types of members. Now’s a good opportunity, so if you want to complain about any of them, I’m all ears.

Ten: I am always on your side, after all.

Momiji: I know and I thank you for that.

Momiji: (Ten-kun feels a little closer today than he usually is… He’s a lot more touchy-feely than usual too.)

Momiji: (He even playfully hugged my shoulders on the way here… Just what is up with him?)

Momiji: …Mhm, the wine is really good.

Ten: Right? You don’t have to keep it to one glass, you know. Drink as much as you want.

Ten: It’s on me today, so don’t hold yourself back.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Momiji: (Yikes… I feel a little dizzy.)

Momiji: (I think I ended up drinking too much because Ten-kun kept encouraging me. Thank God I have the day off tomorrow…)

Ten: Are you drunk? Your face is so red. Cute.

Momiji: (Isn’t he way too close? I can really see how long his eyelashes are like this…)

Momiji: (Huh? Did he just glance at someone behind me?)

Momiji: (Nobody’s there… Maybe I just imagined it.)

Ten: …Ah.

Momiji: What’s wrong?

Ten: I think I’m a little bit drunk too…

Ten: Why don’t we go outside and get some fresh air?

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Location: Wharf

Momiji: Alright, keep steady. Just walk straight ahead.

Ten: Haha, you’re sooo warm, Momiji-san.

Ten: I just want to borrow your shoulder and keep walking like this forever…

*Fabric rustles*

Momiji: Uwhoa!?

Ten: Since there’s no one to disturb us, that means I’m allowed to indulge myself at least for today, riiiight?

Ten: Let me hug youuu.

Momiji: Hold on, you’re all over the place…! Be careful! I’m going to go get you some water, so just go and sit on that bench over there, and—.

*Footsteps*

Momiji: (Footsteps? Someone’s coming up to us…!)

Unknown Woman: Haah, haah… Ten…!

Ten: …You’re finally here. Took you long enough.

Momiji: Huh? W-What do you mean…?

· ❀ —– ٠ ❀ ٠ —– ❀ ·

Unknown Woman: Ten… Who is that? Is she…!?

Momiji: (S-She’s glaring at me really intensely!)

Momiji: Who is this woman…?

Ten: My ex-girlfriend.

Momiji: What?

Ten: I’m going to let you in on a “little secret”, so just listen to me for a moment, okay?

Ten: She started stalking me after we broke up. She’d always be following me around, whether I was going to campus or working part-time for HAMA Tours.

Ten: I really wish she’d just give it a rest already~. Maybe if she sees I have a new partner, it’ll snap her back to reality.

Momiji: …I see. So you’ve been putting on a show for her.

Momiji: Does that mean your drunkenness was just an act too? Did you really have to go that far?

Ten: It’s gotta be realistic. Doing stuff like that is important. Please keep up the good work for me~, Chief.

Ten: Even though I just work part-time, I’m still a member of HAMA Tours. Isn’t caring for my mental health part of the job?

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Option 1: Play along with Ten’s act.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Momiji: (I’m really curious to know about the kind of breakup that would lead to this kind of thing happening, and I’m really curious about his relationships too, so…)

Momiji: There’s no avoiding it… If you’re in trouble, I’ll help you, Ten-kun.

Ten: That’s what I was hoping to hear. That’s what I love about you, Chief.

Ten: Alright, follow my lead. I’m going to hug your shoulders, so cling to me with everything you’ve got, okay?

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Option 2: It’s better to be honest.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Momiji: …If that’s your plan, then I can’t help you. You should just be honest and talk to her properly.

Ten: I thought you’d say that.

Ten: So that’s the kind of person you are, Chief. You’re one of those people who think they can understand almost everyone if you just talk to them.

Momiji: I didn’t mean to sound that naive, I just…

Ten: I’m not so sure about that~. You’ve always been so carefully protected, so you probably wouldn’t understand…

Ten: Don’t you know that there are some things in this world that can’t be solved with lip service?

Ten: And that’s why I’ve got to reject your opinion, Chief. The show must go on.

Momiji: (H-He put his hand on my waist…!!)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Ten’s Ex-Girlfriend: Hey, stop being so secretive and say something already! Who is she!?

Ten: Do you really not get it unless I spell it out for you? You’ve been watching us all this time, so you should get it by now.

Ten: She’s my new partner.

Momiji: (He’s nuzzling his cheek against mine. Isn’t this a bit much…!?)

Ten: That’s why you need to just give up and move on to someone else.

Momiji: Be careful with what you say! You don’t want to provoke her too much…!

Ten’s Ex-Girlfriend: …Y-You don’t have any clue how I was feeling…!!

Momiji: (This is bad, she’s rushing at us…!)

Momiji: Watch out, get away from—.

Ten’s Ex-Girlfriend: Ughh, you should’ve just said so from the beginning~!! As long as you’re happy, Ten, then everything’s okay!

Momiji: (She’s smiling happily and giving us a thumbs up!?)

Ten’s Ex-Girlfriend: Ah, I’m so sorry for misunderstanding. I—.

Ten’s Ex-Girlfriend: I was just so, so worried about whether or not you were happy after we broke up. I guess I just ended up following you around by accident.

Momiji: Huh?

Momiji: What!?

Ten’s Ex-Girlfriend: This one here’s got a nice face, but he’s kind of a mess, isn’t he? And on top of that, he’s got no real life skills, he’s like the epitome of a sugar baby.

Momiji: (That sure is a whole lot something that she’s saying…)

Ten’s Ex-Girlfriend: But. He was really kind to someone like me. I just wanted him to be happy.

Ten: …Huh.

Ten’s Ex-Girlfriend: Looks like everything’s okay. I’m glad. I’ll never follow you around again, don’t worry.

Ten’s Ex-Girlfriend: I… Hope things last between you and her for a long time. I wish you both the best!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Ten: …Haah. That’s finally over with.

Momiji: Having a stalker like that is hard to believe. But I’m glad there’s someone who cares about you that much.

Ten: I didn’t ask for that, though.

Momiji: Even so, you should be more happy to see such a wonderful person, Ten-kun.

Ten: Ohoho, giving me advice, are we? So you’re talkative when you’re drunk, huh~? If you keep on talking, I might have to shut that mouth of yours myself.

Momiji: How can you even do that?

Ten: …

Ten: It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. It’s not fun when drunk people take things so seriously.

Ten: Good work, Chief-san. Let’s call it here for today.

Ten: I’ll repay you for this eventually.

[maybe-im-dark]

Hunter's moon

Based on this post

The bloodied streets of New York were eerily quiet in the aftermath of Wade’s a d Logan’s latest mission. Wade was basking in his usual post-battle-high, chatting away to himself as he wiped his katanas clean. Logan, on the other hand, was crouched on the pavement, his feral gaze locked onto Wade.

The faint coppery tang of blood still hung thick in the air. And Wade, covered head to toe in it, smelled way too good to Logan’s heightened senses.

Wade hadn’t noticed the shift yet.

"Hey peanut!" Wade yelled over his shoulder, tossing one katana into its sheath. "What say we hit up that taco truck down on 3rd? I could go for some—"

His words faltered when he caught sight of Logan out of the corner of his eye. The man was on all fours, his hazel eyes darkened, his shoulder hunched. Logan took a slow, dileberate step forward, his nostrils flaring.

Wade froze.

"Ha...haha...very funny, Logan", Wade said nervously, taking a step back. "You can drop the whole 'feral predator act' now. Real convincing, buddy. Ten outta ten."

Logan didn’t respond. He lowered his head, his gaze locked onto Wade like a predator stalking its prey. His claws slid out with a soft snikt, the metallic sound making Wade’s knees weak.

"Wolvie", Wade began, his voice breaking, as his heart rate skyrocketed. "You’re kidding, right? This is...a joke? Peanut? You wouldn't hunt your boyfriend, would ya? Logan? Logan, stop it!"

Logan didn’t stop. He crept forward, inch by inch, every muscles in his body coiled and ready to spring.

Wade squealed, his nervous laugh breaking the silence. "Okay! You made your point! Big scary animal! I get it! Now cut it out before I—Oh shit, you’re not stopping, are you?"

Logan took another step, his lips curling into a low snarl. Wade’s instincts screamed at him to run and for once, he didn’t argue.

"WAIT NO!" Wade screamed, bolting down the street. "You don’t have to do this, Logan! I TASTE TERRIBLE!"

The streets of New York came alive as Wade, bloodied and panicked, sprinted full speed, Logan booking it after him like a wildcat. Pedestrians barely batted an eye— they’d seen this circus act before. Wade zigzagged through traffic, yelling and cursing, while Logan stayed hot on his heels, a predatory growl rumbling from his chest.

"THIS IS DOMESTIC ABUSE!" Wade shrieked, as he dove into in abandoned building, panting hard and clutching his knees. "You’re lucky I’m into this, you absolute monster!"

The building was dark, silent except for Wade’s heavy breathing. He slumped against a wall, willing his heart rate to slow. If he just stayed quiet, Logan would...

A familiar snikt echoed through the empty space. Wade’s breath hitched.

"Oh, come on", he whispered, trying not to laugh and cry simultaneously. "Logan! I’m literally playing dead here! You’re supposed to stop when your prey goes limp!"

The sound of claws scraping against the floor got closer and closer. Wade held his breath, trying not to move, but his body betrayed him. He let out a soft, stifled giggle.

Logan’s head snapped towards the sound.

"Goddammit", Wade hissed, before sprinting deeper into the building. "This is not how couples are supposed to bond!"

Logan caught up to him in seconds, tackling him to the ground with a force that knocked the wind out of him. Wade squealed, trying to wiggle away, but Logan’s claws sank into his shoulder, pinning him down. Then he started biting and shaking.

"NO BITING!" Wade yelled, as Logan’s teeth grazed his arm. "WAIT...LOGAN! I SWEAR TO GOD...AAAHHH! NOT THE ARM!"

With a feral grin, Logan clamped his teeth down, ripped Wade’s arm clean off and took off like a dog stealing a prized chew toy.

"HEY! BRING THAT BACK!" Wade screeched, stumbling to his feet. "THAT’S MY ARM, YOU JERK! I NEED IT TO FLIP YOU OFF!"

Of course, Logan didn’t stop. He disappeared into the shadows, his laughter—a rare sound—echoing behind him. Wade groaned, cradling the stub where his arm used to be.

"Goddamn feral menace", Wade muttered, a grin tugging at his lips, despite himself. "I got myself a literal wolverine."

By the time Wade found Logan again, the man was sprawled out on the ground in the alleyway, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths. He was out cold, Wade’s severed arm still clutched in his hand like a trophy.

"Yeah, you better be sleeping", Wade said, sitting down beside him.

His stump was already starting to regenerate, new muscle and bone knitting together. He sighed, reaching out to brush a hand through Logan’s messy hair.

"You’re lucky I love you, you wild animal", he murmured, leaning back against the wall.

Within minutes, he was asleep too, Logan’s head resting in his lap.

And somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of sirens echoed through the city. New Yorkers had long since learned not to question the chaos.

[snotty-zombie]

Rageous-tober part 3!!

Day 19: Velchid

Day 21: Vampire

Day 26: Orchid

More under the cut 😉

Day 19: Velchid

This kinda marks the spot where I started doing more and more for each entry and making life so much more difficult for myself haha I started like adding extra little bits beside the main piece just for fun which made the pressure of posting on time a lot tougher (I eventually said fuck it and just posted them late cuz who gives af haha)

I honestly love drawing full bodies of Rhinestone because she wears such bright clothing and accessories all covered in stickers and charms (her miku keychain is based off of one I own myself reeheehee) and she’s always pulling a funny face

Stark contrast to Velvet with her neat pearl jewellery and tidy hair and delicate acrylic nails. I try to make each part of her outfit somewhat matching and colour coordinated because I feel like her and Veneer are so anal retentive about that sort of thing like they FREAK if something is like slightly off like their shoes and top are different shades of black or whatever- exhibit A, Velvet’s witch costume which is all matching colours as well as her lovely nails and ring

Then there on the bonus pics is Vels tormenting the smelly boys as well as some Velstone angst, they’ll be ok

Day 21: vampire 🧛‍♂️ 🦇 🩸

QUITE PROUD OF THIS ONE, would you believe me if I said I finished it back in mid September because I was so excited for Halloween? I didn’t know I was going to be doing an inktober event this year so when I saw the vampire prompt I shoved this in a box to wait until then to post it

Veneer couldn’t decide between being a cowboy or a vampire for Halloween so he had the genius idea of combining both into one costume… a vampire cowboy! Cowboy vampire- either works. Veneer gives me HUGE vampire energy, just the inherent cuntyness of a vampire mixed with Veneer’s annoying teenage sass is chefs kiss- plus he’s as pale as a vampire anyway so no need for makeup

And his smelly hairy werewolf bf that he can drag along with his lasso and order to bite people

Day 26: Orchid Rhinestone!

Kidding the prompt was Orchid but it was referring to the same Rageon so

This is a really big one haha it was just an excuse to vomit some of my Rhinestone headcannons onto a page and it was sooooo fun

Starting off at the top, she’s a big video game person, only things she spends her hard earned cash on are video games and cosplay materials but she’ll never admit it.

Secret Easter egg moment there of her and Veneer from Jobiesayscheese’s fanfic (my favourite ever fyi, you should totes read it), the girls who know, know.

Sea urchin Rhinestone appearance! Will definitely be seeing more of her because I’m so proud of my furry designs for them all haha omfg, she makes rattling sounds when she moves, particularly when her spines aren’t tied back- I’m sure you can imagine the sound they make, sort of like hollow bamboo being clinked together mixed with jewellery tinkling

AND HER COSPLAY YIPPEE YIPPEE YIPPEE (another ten points if you can name all the cosplays) she’s as hands on as it gets, nothing is bought, everything is hand sewn and glued and all that, she does everything by hand with her own patterns (most of the time), she even managed to convince Velvet to let her make a costume for her one time so they could have a couples cosplay. She also does literally every kind of craft out there and is always knitting or crocheting something for her friends or gf to wear like a cute jumper or a warm winter hat (she’s a giver) or felting holiday decorations as gifts :3c

Part 1! Part 2! Part 3! Part 4!

[imsogonesposts]

It's a Normal Thing to Fall in Love With Movie Stars

|| ao3 || based on normal thing by gracie abrams || waitress!reader x actor!steve ||

summary: After meeting Steve at a restaurant, you learn what it's like to date a movie star. (wc: 1059)

 He was the star of the latest rom-com to hit theaters. The “teen heartthrob” with the nice eyes, the nice clothes, the kind personality, and the perfectly styled hair. 

You were the waitress who got lucky one night to serve his table. You acted like you didn’t know him, and he loved that about you. Loved that even though you probably knew him, which let’s face it- you did, he was the lead role in the latest blockbuster hit, you still acted like he was an everyday person. Like he was normal. 

So, he slipped you his number, because wow, were you pretty, and kind, and had a cute laugh when he told you a stupid joke, and he wasn’t that surprised when you texted him later that day. Not in an egotistical, “of course she’d text me back, look at me, I’m hot and rich” way, but in a “maybe she felt a little spark too” way. 

Unbeknownst to him, you were at home, geeking out that your celebrity crush slipped you his number. You’d seen most of his movies before and weren’t at all surprised when he finally got his big hit with his latest release. But you were a bit surprised to find how easy he was to talk to. That the news articles weren’t just hyping him up, he really was a sweet guy. 

No wonder you had a crush on him. Though, to be fair, how could you not? Anyone would have a crush on him. 

Me: hi?

UNKNOWN: hello?

Me: sorry, i may have the wrong number, but i work at a restaurant and i think you left me your number?

UNKNOWN: oh, are you the pretty waitress?

Pretty waitress?

Me: i guess so haha

UNKNOWN: i’m steve :)

Yes, Steve, I know who you are. Who doesn’t?

Steve: i was wondering if you’d want to go out sometime? maybe for a coffee?

Me: a coffee sounds nice

Steve: does tomorrow work for you? 

Steve: say, 9 am?

Me: that’s good, there’s a coffee shop near the restaurant if you wanna go there

Me: i can send you the address 

Steve: sounds perfect

Steve: see you soon, gorgeous 

Me: see you soon, steve

***

“Hello, gorgeous,” Steve greeted you, waiting outside the coffee shop. Waiting for you. You still couldn’t believe it, really. The Steve Harrington going on a date with you? Was this even a date? You had spent a good ten minutes pacing your room, trying to decide what to wear and if this qualified as a date or not. Did he see it as a date?

“Hi, Steve,” you waved with a smile, walking over to him as he opened the front door for you. 

“I never did get your name again,” Steve tells you, taking a sip from his coffee as you tell him your name. “Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he replies, smiling at you. 

“I feel like I should tell you, I know…who you are,” you say quietly.

“And, who am I?” he asks.

“A movie star,” you whisper as he lets out a small laugh.

“Does that bother you?” 

“No. I just thought you should know that I knew,” you say as he nods, a hint of a smile on his face. 

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

***

“You know, you seem incredibly underwhelmed,” Steve whispered in your ear as you let out a small laugh. “I’m starting to think you’ve dated other movie stars before me,” he teased as you rolled your eyes with a smile. You were seated together for the premiere of his latest movie, a horror movie titled “The Upside-Down,” and you had seemed completely…normal about everything. No wide-eyed wonder at the red carpet, or the limo you rode in, or all the stars you were surrounded by. 

“I dated the prince once, actually, that’s why I’m so unfazed,” you joked, causing him to let out another laugh and kiss your cheek.

“What went wrong with the prince?”

“He was too...”

“Preppy?”

“Sure, we can go with that,” you reply, moving to rest your head on his shoulder as the movie began. 

***

Steve: can we talk?

Steve: we’re dating in the movie, she doesn’t mean anything to me

Steve: it’s just for a scene

Me: you guys weren’t even near the set, it wasn’t just for the scene

Steve: can i come over so we can talk?

“I don’t know if I can spend the rest of my life like this, Steve.” Part of you wanted to take it all back the moment you saw his face fall. To say “haha, it was a joke, quit being so serious.” But part of you meant it. How much longer could you spend wondering if pictures of him and his costars were leaked scenes from set, edited, or, the option you hoped never to be true, real? Steve was a good guy, you knew he wouldn’t cheat on you, but the pictures and the fans shipping him and his costars together always put a linger of doubt in your head. What if, what if, what if? 

“Are you saying you want to break up with me?” He whispered. He was thankful you ignored the crack in his voice. 

“I think I just need to think things through, you know? I’m not used to this lifestyle, at least, not yet.” As much as it pained him, he understood your reasoning. You never asked for any of this, never signed up for it. Maybe part of what he signed up for when he first chose this career, was never getting the girl of his dreams, you. 

“If you ever change your mind, you know where to reach me,” he said quietly as you finally met his gaze with a smallnod. 

“I’ll probably see you again anyways,” you said with a sad laugh. Yes, but would he get to see you again? 

“I guess I’ll see ya,” he replied with a small smile before walking out the front door. “Take care!” he yelled out before exiting your house. 

As the door shut, you could already feel the tears welling up in your eyes. Steve changed your life, and now, who knows if you’ll ever get to see him again. At least, anywhere that isn’t on a screen. You should’ve never gotten close to the movie star.

[arrowmance]

[ ♥ ] 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟑, 𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

This letter is directed to... Leviathan, the Avatar of Envy. To the demon who I've fallen for, despite the distance.

❥ back to the masterlist : upcoming, 4th letter

Dear Leviathan,

It's been raining here in the human realm, aren't you cold? Because I know how difficult it is when you're alone shivering. Haha, get that joke? No? Okay.

Seriously, I've had a lot of friends out of reach, and the distance between us is... indescribable. Alright, do not come at me for how I portray my feelings, nor how my thoughts not making sense right now but, please, listen.

Call me a creep all you want, but I took note of our conversation the last time you called.

It was counterintuitive to make a call in the bathroom. Perhaps the first time around, it felt like a miracle. I was so used to being the one calling you when it's night time at this place, so imagine my surprise when you called me in the morning even.

And you didn't usually start the conversation how you do. Don't get the wrong idea it's not like you were being completely out of character or being overbearing or annoying, but it's the first question you asked:

"It's been raining here since you left, is it cold there?"

YES. OH MY FUCKING GOD, it has been very VERY cold since I left your place. Look, it's good to be home, like I missed this place, but oh my Diavolo did I miss all of you.

Especially my best friend, my full-time homie, my lifetime partner.

Because, if I'm being honest? Being alone sucks. And it's been so long since I've had someone that I was comfortable sharing my interests with, because...

We're both losers, aren't we? We're nothing more that losers in love. And yet, thinking about it just makes me all the more excited. I can't escape how while you keep describing yourself as this shut-in, good-for-nothing, useless otaku, but all I see is someone who does what he loves. Someone with no shame in screaming to this world and announce a passion. Didn't you realize half of the population don't even have the balls for that?

Really, it's endearing.

It's a great way to survive hell, and I'm glad I got to know you better. I'm glad you introduced me to TSL, and Ruri Tunes, and tens and thousands more of games and anime from your collection. I'm still catching up, barely making even 1/4 of that list, but you got good taste. And... aaaa...

I should've written about being a "Professional Avatar of Sins comforter" in that one essay instead…but hopefully, you would appreciate the little honorable mention you had in the written work.

"As much as I didn't have only 1 hobby, Leviathan sparked my interest in gaming like I'm a child again. Well, I'm actually grateful for that, so I'll thank the Otaku for now making it somewhat one of my hobbies." 

Gods, I sound like some sick teenager. So, hear me out, what if I did tell you I've fallen? And I like the way you play games and endless rants of the things you're most passionate about?

My heart skipped a beat at the sudden tune of "My Chance!" vibrating from my phone atop the plastic table, and you just had to let me release this part of me that I didn't even realize I have. Really, I'd do anything to see those familiar orange eyes and purple strands, running my fingers and combing your Justin Bieber style bowl cut (that you wear better).

“I’m not ready to save myself from the embarrassment that is talking like a lot already," you probably once said. "Just for you to not hear anything and I have to repeat it all over again and that's pretty awkward since I forgot what I said earlier or did I even say anything worth your time? Ahh I can’t believe I just wasted your time-”

I'd listen.

I'd echo this sentiment a million times on the stereo. I'd listen.

So when I look out when it rains, I find north.

Because I'd get to imagine the distance shorter, guided by that northern path. Whether I'm on the South, East or West, you'll be the one I'm looking for.

And if I don't make sense now? That's good, you'll figure it out eventually. Because there was never anyone else who synced with my thoughts like the rhythmic beats of my heart.

My player one, thank you.

Happy Holidays from here, and when it rains, I'll always remember you. While I'm here, alone. Shivering.

Thank you so that, even when the stars are gone, I'd have the rain.

I'd have you.

With love, Your Happy Place

© 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 2024. do not copy, modify, or repost any work as your own.

december 3rd, 2024 | wave dividers by cafekitsune