#ILL GET TO HEAR THE FROZEN BOYS AGAIN MAYBE Tumblr posts

[junee-e]

I KNOW WHO WILL HAVE A SPARE CRYOPOD IN 2064

[lostalioth]

𝐬𝐨𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝

→ premise: he only intended to check in on you, he didn’t however plan on you exacting your revenge for him throwing you in the pool at that very moment. though it works out in the end to finally break the thick lingering tension between you two.

→ pairing: s1!steve harrington x fem!reader

→ warnings: 2.3k words, smut | 18+, unprotected sex, shower sex, fingering, edging, semi-drunk sex, underaged drinking they are described as drinking but they are a bit drunk/tipsy, season 1 steve harrington and so tommy and carol are in it, Y/N IS USED ONCE, nicknames [baby, cutie], description of wet clothes

→ a/n: 05 kinktober

“Ahhh Steve noo please!” You squeal and heat washes over your body, your skin burns where Steve's hands are gripping your waist. His touch sends butterflies to start violently fluttering in your stomach. He lifts you up and you feel like the air is punched from your lungs at the strength and his hands all over you. You hear a chuckle eurrupt from his chest right before you’re thrown from his hands. You squeal as your body breaks the frozen barrier of water and you splash into the icey grimy pool. You hold your breath as you look up from under the water and see the stars sparkle in the night sky. Slowly you come up out of the water, pushing your body up on the side of the pool glaring in Harrington's direction. The cold water is working to sober you up a bit, however not as well as you wished it to. The alcohol still streaming through your veins from those last few swings of the bottle now making you only a tad bit tipsy. Tommy and Carol are keeled over laughing, nearly falling off the lawn chairs they were laid out on. “Before you kill me you're gonna need me for new clothes you know? Right?” Steve lightly whines and backs up looking like a deer in headlights as he backs himself up against the sliding patio door.

“Show me where the shower is in this damn mansion of a house and maybe just maybe I'll spare you” you groan and look down at your body as your clothes sag and cling awkwardly to your body, water dripping off of you and onto the patio tile below you making you feel like a wet dog. He slides the glass back door open quickly and waits on you, not daring to make a move. “You're so whipped Harrington, how can you deny that?!?” Tommy calls over at the boy whose frozen stood, making Carol burst out into laughter again. You and Steve glare in their direction as you make your way into the much warmer house.

They shut up and put up their hands in surrender and shrug as you and Steve walk into the house. He leads you up the stairs and points you towards his bathroom. You give him a grimace before you walk into the bathroom, you decide not to lock the door and even to leave it open a crack.

Steve gathers clothes of his own for you to change into as he hears shuffling in the bathroom before the water starts running. He grabs a baggy pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt of his as well as socks of his for you. He walks a few feet out of his bedroom, passing the cracked open bathroom door. The smell of his body wash wafts out the door and under his nose. You were using his body wash, and you were gonna smell all like him and be wearing his clothes. He feels his cock stir and twitch in his suddenly ill-fitting boxers at the thought, god it made his stomach turn. It would be like you were his, all his, only his. He shakes away the cloud of lust overcoming him and makes his way into the laundry room. Opening up the dryer he throws in the clothes he grabbed as well as a towel for you, setting it to run for around 10 minutes so that it all comes out warm. It might appear as though he was sucking up cause he doesn't want you to kill him for throwing you in the pool, but he does genuinely want you to be comfortable and warm. He let Carol and Tommy get the better of him and get in his head, always calling him whipped for you and saying he follows you around like a puppy. The two of you weren’t together in any capacity besides friends and it kills Steve. Cause he knows he's very obvious with his affection and infatuation and yet he's oblivious to yours. Therefore him throwing you in the pool was so they'd stop their comments about how close you two were sitting or how he was looking at you. He shouldn't have let them get to him but that was all he could think to do so they’d shut up.

Making his way back into his bedroom he stands frozen in front of the bathroom door, hand wrapped around the side where it was left open a jar. He takes a deep breath and walks in, looking down at his feet. His intentions were purely innocent and yet he couldn't fight the flush of his cheeks or the growing bulge making a small tent in his jeans as he stood there. This was his bathroom after all and so he knew his shower doors were glass and if he just looked up just an inch. He’d see your beautiful silhouette through the fogged up glass door, your hands running over your body as you rinse off the body wash. his body wash. Steve clears his throat to both catch your attention and regain his own composure enough to speak again.

“Hey uh i grabbed out some sweats and a shirt for you, even a pair of my socks, they're in the dryer with your towel so they can be toasty for ya’ i thought maybe i could take your sopping wet clothes from you to wash those” the words all practically come vomiting out of Steve's mouth in a hurry he was doing his best to make up for his adolescent action. The strain of his aching cock against his jeans persistent and annoying however.

It was killing him, knowing if he only glanced up just a bit he could see your body in all its beauty and yet he wouldn't, he couldn't. He wasn't a perv though it may seem like it sometimes, he just felt the need to check in on you, you were tipsy still and not at your own house after all.

With Steve's head bowed and his eyes apparently glued to his own feet he misses the small evil smirk that spreads on your face. “Yeah yeah that'd be great Steve thank-” you cut yourself off and let out a small fustrated string of curuses before you fake whine.

“Y/N? What happened, hey you okay?” A confused Steve stands even more frozen but he's gotten closer to the shower door and has a hand on the door handle. “Oh fuck- ughh i think i got soap in my eye. I can't tell if I rinsed it all away. Can you look at my eye for me please?” You question and fight back the smile that wants to take over your lips, forcing a squinted and pained expression instead.

Without a second thought Steve flings the shower door open, eyes now glued to your face instead of the floor and his feet. He leans forward trying to get a better look in your eye when you grab him by the collar of his shirt. Quickly before he can question you, you pull Steve into the shower with you, sliding closed the door so no water escapes.

The warm water suddenly spraying at his back, soaking his shirt and running down, working its way to soaking his jeans. His jaw agape and his shoulders raised and tense for a moment before he adjusts and they drop. His already tight jeans are beginning to cling around his now very obvious bulge. “Alright yeah I deserved thattt-” he chuckles but his voice gets caught in his throat and his last word dragging on when he lets his eyes drift down your bare, dripping, glowing wet body standing in front of him. You watch as his brown eyes darken and cloud with desire, your own eyes slowly taking in his own body and landing right on his excruciatingly hard cock that's begging to be let out of his strained jeans. Your own eyes glaze over with lust and reluctantly they scan back up Steve's body to meet his. His eyes droopy and brows furrowed, strands of his brown locks now soaked and a darker color as they stick to his forehead jaw still practically on the floor.

“Steve.. please” you whine, your voice coming out more breathless than you intended and full of vulnerability. “Oh fuck it” he grunts and surges forward, his warm hands wrapping around your slippery wasit pulling your exposed body flush against his colthed one as his lips crash against yours.

You let out a small gasp and shut your eyes tightly before kissing back passionately, lips molding together perfectly as hands roam and slide around each other's drenched bodies. Steve’s hand slips up your side, around your back and up your spine slowly before gripping the back of your neck deepening the kiss. You hum into his mouth and let his tongue invade your own mouth and take over dancing with your tongue. His other hand sliping the opposite way, down your hip and over your soft thigh before cupping your throbbing sex. A whimper escapes your lips, the steam from your hot shower filling the bathroom only seemed to double, surrounding the fogged up shower as well as your and Steve's entangled bodies. “Harrington..baby i need you please” you pull away from the heated kiss and whine leaning into his touch, your hands splayed across his lower stomach. One sliding under his soaked shirt and the other sliding down and starting to work at the button on his pants. The running shower head is still spraying right at Steve's back who's too entranced with you to care about the water bill that's raising higher and higher to longer it runs uselessly.

A cocky smirk is plastered on Steve’s face as water flows down his chiseled face and drips off his chin. His nibble fingers slide through your folds and slip through your slick before plunging deep inside you. His middle and ring finger work in tandem to thrust inside your aching cunt and reach that spongy spot that makes you see stars. Your pussy clenches around his fingers after every thrust inside, his long fingers buried knuckle deep inside you. You let out a loud wanton moan in relief and pleasure that gets muffled when Steve's lips collide with your own once again. You finish unbuttoning his jeans and do your best to push the fabric as well as his boxers down his thick thighs as they cling to his legs. His neglected cock finally springing free, his leaking red tip angry and desperate for attention.

All the tension and Steve's fast and well trained movements make the pleasure build up fast in the pit of your stomach. You moan and whimper into his mouth as his fingers keep thrusting hard and deep inside you, Steve’s thumb starting to rub slow circles on your twitching clit pushing you closer and closer to that edge. “You gonna cum on my fingers cutie?” His voice comes out taunting and condensing, the sound rebervating against the tile walls in the shower and bouncing all around you. You nod frantically and your knees buckle, your legs almost giving out from under you. Steve uses the hand gripping the back of your neck to make you hold eye contact as well as hold your body up steady as you grow limper in his arms the closer you get.

“Well you know how our little game goes right baby? Well you pulled me in the shower for throwing you in the pool” he starts explaining and you fight your eyes fluttering shut and your thoughts drifting away as you get closer and closer to tipping over the edge. You lazily nod in understanding. “Yes baby yes Steve I know i know!” You babble and moan out nearly incoherently as your eyes shut for a second but snap back open. Your cunt begins to throb and ache for releasing and holding it in starts to become painful. “Well it's my turn again and i think i'm gonna edge you cutie you know, for pay back?” He chuckles and as quickly as he slipped them in he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you let out a long whine in protest as your head falls back and your climax dies back down.

A shit eating grin is glued to Harrington's face and he soothes the pain by circling your clit with the two fingers he slipped out softly. Your disappointment doesn't last long however once Steve grabs both of your arms, pulling them behind your back and spinning your body around to press your tits up against the cold shower wall. Your hips nestled and pressed against his, his cock sliding through your folds as he grinds against your ass. Your nipples harden from the shift in temperature from the shower water. The hand that isn't holding both of your arms behind your back comes down to slap your ass before Steve's tip spilling pre cum is pushing at your entrance and with one hard sharp thrust he's inside.

“Oh god~ Baby” you scream as Steve gives you no time to adjust to his size, the painful sting of your cunt stretching and accommodating his cock. He rubs his thumb over the small of your back as he pushes your arms flush to your back keeping your body right where he wants you. Steve thrusts deep and fast, desperately needing this feeling for so long he can't get enough. The sound of your moans and mumbled curses, sweet nothings and whines of ‘baby’ ‘more’ ‘yes!’ fill the room alongside the slapping sound of wet skin against wet skin. Steve's balls slap against your clit in this position adding to your pleasure. You let out a loud scream of pleasure the harder he thrusts, your climax right on the edge faster than you wished. Your hips slam back against Steves and any thought of being mad at him for throwing you in the freezing cold pool have long dissipated along with the steam in the bathroom and long forgotten about with the running dryer with your towel and Steve's clothes.

→ a/n: i got very carried away with this and it took two days to finish so it came out late and im sorry but im actually pretty proud of this one. fun enough this was sort of an idea carried over from last years kinktober that i didnt do and now finally i did it!! leave me feedback and sorry for any typos!

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part seventeen

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.8k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness (r has a panic attack), she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: this is the tea guys get ready for a LOADED chapter. also,, i apologize.

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

Coryo wants to ask you who that guy was- why he made you so instantly uncomfortable, and he wants to, but he's cut off before he can get a word out by someone shouting your name. You tense under his hold, freezing on the spot. Then your name comes again, and as Coryo turns to see the face of whoever it is, he was met with the very same blonde boy just a few feet away.

"Hey, leavin' already?" He asks, tilting his head at you as you turn. He doesn't even spare a glance in Coryo's direction. "Didn't even say hello."

"Oh, well, I'm just... not feeling well." You reply, dropping Coryo's hand in favour of shielding yourself around your waist.

"Oh, that's a shame. Can I walk you home?" He offers.

"I've got it, actually." Coryo answers stiffly, straightening his shoulders as he takes in the boy's attire. Blue slacks, a white T-shirt, and a buzzcut. He's a peacekeeper.

The boy looks him up and down, a smirk forming on his lips. "This is your mentor. Saw him on TV with you, I didn't realise that was a... permanent arrangement."

"Coriolanus just came to visit. He's a good friend." You say quietly, hardly to be heard over the Covey band playing in the background.

"Oh! A friend. Of course." He laughs, speaking to you, but his eyes are locked with Coryo's; unafraid, taunting. "And here I was thinking you had a type."

"Y/N has never mentioned you." Coryo states, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep himself from throwing a punch. "Who are you, exactly?"

"Right! Sorry, I'm Cole." The blonde boy replies.

Coryo could laugh. Clearly, he was local. "Should I take a blind guess at where your father works, Cole?"

His jaw tenses in response, but then he laughs. "Yeah, yeah. You'd probably be right." He reaches up, running his hand over his jaw. "You know, if Y/N isn't up to giving you a tour, maybe I could take you out in the woods and show you where your father was murdered. How does that sound, Snow?"

You look up at your friend, eyes wide. Coryo doesn't know what to say or do, but he looks pissed. "Cole, enough." You state, trying to steady the shake in your voice. "That was cruel and you know it."

"Oh, was it? Sorry." He apologizes, but he's looking past you at a seething Coriolanus. He can only hear his heartbeat in his ears, and he wants nothing more than to beat this guy to a pulp right where he stands.

"Coryo, let's just go, please..." He can suddenly hear your voice, and feel your hands against his chest, trying to urge him out the door.

"Yeah, you two head out." Cole chuckles, lifting one hand in a wave. "I'll give you some advice though, bud, you're not getting anything from her by walking her home. I've been down that road and jeez- it's really not worth it."

Coryo didn't care anymore if you were trying to get him out; he steps past you and is throwing a fist right into Cole's nose before you could make a move to stop him. Bringing up his father was one thing, saying something so disgusting about you was totally another. Coriolanus would not look past that and be a pacifist right now- even if that's what you wanted.

You stumble back with a gasp, hands flying up to cover your mouth. You stand frozen as Coryo knocks him down, laying punch after punch onto a boy you once thought of as a friend.

Hit. After. Hit.

You couldn't see his eyes. You weren't sure why you were looking. Deep down, you knew you wouldn't like what you saw.

You back up. Back, back, back until your head hits the wall and you can't keep going. You didn't realize you were breathing so fast until you started to get dizzy. People are shouting, a crowd is forming. Too many people, too much screaming- the music has stopped, and you watch from outside your body as Sejanus wraps his arms around Coriolanus's waist and yanks him back so he's standing upright again.

He wipes his bloodied mouth on his wrist, then promptly pushes his hair back out of his eyes as he spits the blood in his mouth down on Cole as he lies on the ground. Time is moving so slowly that you're not even sure he's moving. Is he dead?

Your eyes flit back up to Coriolanus again, and his eyes catch yours. You try to take a step back again, but the wall is still there. Shades of red cloud the edges of your vision, and you're stuck making eye contact with him. Frozen, and terrified.

"No- no, no Y/N, wait-" He starts to speak to you. You wonder if you're dreaming. If this was another nightmare- worse than the others. It was personal. "Y/N- hey, don't look at me like that. Come on, don't look at me like that. Talk to me." He's saying, pleading with you, and you can only read his lips as tears fall quick and heavy from your eyes.

He takes one step with empty but bloodied hands held out in front of him, and you're running. It's the worst kind of deja vu. You don't know where to go- you can't go outside. He knows where you live, where your family lives, and it's too long of a walk to be able to make it. He would catch you if you tried to run home alone.

You're trying to sprint through a crowd of drunk people, many of whom are fighting as well now, and you almost don't even notice when you take a hit to the side of the head with someone's elbow as you try and get to the back room. You don't have time to care. You look back over your shoulder, shoving your way through as quickly as you can. He's following you. You can see his blonde hair in the semi-cleared path you made for yourself.

You can't look back, you have to look forward as you dart down the dark hallway, praying that the Covey's makeshift dressing room has a lock on the door. You didn't even realize you were screaming until you slammed the door behind you, scrambling for the lock and sliding the rusty metal shut as you barricaded the door with your body.

"Y/N! Y/N, wait!" Coryo shouts, shoving his way through the crowd behind you. You can't hear him, even when he catches your eyes. That same fear behind them made his gut twist.

He only just clears the crowd behind you when someone is standing right in his path, grabbing his shoulders and shoving him back. Lucy Gray. She wasn't strong, but she needed to be. "What have you done!" She's shouting right in his face, pushing him back again, but it does little to move him. "Why would you do that in front of her?! Get out of here! Now!"

"No, no, Lucy Gray I need to-"

"Coriolanus Snow if you don't get away from her right now I swear to god I-"

"No, you don't understand I-"

"I understand damn fine, thank you!" She huffs. "Sejanus, go get Lennox."

He didn't even clock that Sejanus was holding onto him, keeping him from getting any closer to you even though you were locked behind that door he could see just feet away. He could hear you screaming, sobbing, and he only wanted to help.

"Okay, yeah. I will." Sejanus says, turning his grip onto Coryo's arm. "Come on, you gotta go."

He had seen Sejanus angry before, but it was never directed at him. "Sejanus, please, I have to help her, I can't go through this again I really-"

"You can help her by leaving."

Coryo's heart sinks in his chest, but he lets Sejanus pull him away, and he stares hopelessly back over his shoulder at the door as Lucy Gray knocks on it, talking to you through the metal barrier protecting you from him.

"Y/N/N, hey, it's me. It's Lucy Gray. You gotta let me in, sweetheart. Come on, open up." She's trying to stay calm as she knocks on the door, repeatedly trying the handle on it. "I'm alone, I promise you're safe, Y/N/N. Open the door, please."

You can hear her, but everything besides your broken sobs sounds distant as you're curled up against the opposite wall. There's not enough air in the world right now to keep you conscious- there must not be a window back here. You force yourself back onto your feet, stumbling as you try to stand up and you can hardly see. It's hot.

You look up, there's no vents. The ceiling is too high. Somehow, that makes you feel more claustrophobic.

You make your way over to the door, your palms against it and feeling soft knocks coming from the other side.

"Lucy Gray?" You sniff, unsure now that it was even her voice that you heard.

"Yes, sweetheart. It's just me, can you let me in, please?"

You take three deep breaths.

"Y/N/N?"

With a shaky hand, you reach up and slide the lock open.

She tries the handle again, looking back over her shoulder when it cracks open this time.

You step back quickly as the door is slowly pushed open, almost falling back with the urge to run. You hardly remember why you would open the door.

"Hey, hey, just me." Your best friend says, quickly closing the door again and locking it behind herself.

She eyes you carefully, and your arms are wrapped tightly around your midsection. You don't look like yourself- eyes wide with nothing more than terror behind them, like you're physically holding yourself together and it's not really working as your chest rises and falls so fast she can almost see your muscles straining to keep up. She wants nothing more than to pull you into her arms and tell you it's okay, but she's not sure touching you would be wise. "You okay, Hun?"

You look at her with tear-filled eyes, shaking your head.

"That's okay." She nods at you, understanding and filled with worry. "Do you want to sit? I'll get you some water and we can talk, okay?"

You nod, swallowing over the dryness you didn't even notice in your throat left over from all the screaming and crying. If you didn't know better, you would have thought you swallowed a full box of cotton.

Lucy Gray nods, double checking the door is locked before going over to her bag in the corner and grabbing a water bottle. You watch her the whole way and her calmness slightly soothes you, just enough to sit down at the bench and table beside you.

Lucy Gray isn't scared. You're safe here. You have to remind yourself over and over that you're safe now.

"Your brother is on his way." She assures you, sitting down across the bench from you and holding out the water she just opened for you.

"Okay." You say quietly, taking it and just holding it in your lap. You try and take a deep breath, your head falling back as you shut your eyes, trying to force the fear to leave your body.

"There you go, good. Keep breathing." You hear her tell you and you swallow again. "Can you talk to me? Tell me what happened. No one can hurt you here, I promise."

"Coryo, go home." Sejanus instructs him, turning him in the opposite direction, as if he couldn't do it himself. He had absolutely zero interest in going back to that cold empty house they had borrowed for the month.

Especially after what he had done to you. Again.

He promptly turns back around in the street. "No, I'm coming with you."

Sejanus sighs, rubbing his hands down his face. "I don't have time for this-"

"I agree. Let's go get him."

"Don't you get it?" Sejanus laughs bitterly, eyes wide with exasperation as he shakes his head. "Don't you know what you've done to her?"

"Of course I get it!" Coryo shouts in response. "I've ruined everything! I know that!"

Sejanus opens his mouth to speak, quickly shutting it again.

"I'm killing her! I'm killing her and I can hardly breathe right now and I need her to know I didn't mean to scare her and the only way I can show her that is helping her now. That's the mistake I made last time, and I won't do it again. I won't." He shakes his head, reaching up and pushing his hair back out of his eyes.

"She talked to me, on the last night I saw her. She screamed, and cried, just like that," He gestures vaguely toward the building you're still trapped inside, "and she asked if that's who I was and I couldn't tell her no. She asked if I regretted it and I do, more than anything, and I'm pretty sure she's the only damn reason why and she doesn't know that!"

"I can't lose her." He adds after a moment of the two boys just staring at each other. "Not again, Sejanus. I'm scared of who I'll be without her."

Sejanus shakes his head slightly, looking up at the stars as he takes a deep breath. He was mad at Coryo for scaring you, but he was his friend, and if this is how he wanted to help, he couldn't bring himself to push him away after he was sure that Coryo had never been so honest in his life.

"Okay. Let's go."

There are still lights on in the house when Sejanus knocks on the door. Coryo is standing at his side, chest tight. Your brother already didn't like him- he knew this wouldn't go well at all, but he couldn't walk away from you now. If it was your brother you needed, he would get him for you.

The door opens and they're lucky to see that it was Lennox who answered.

"Where's my sister?" He asks immediately, noting that you weren't with them.

"Something happened, and Lucy Gray asked us to come get you." Sejanus answers, and Coryo's breath hitches as your brother's eyes lock on him.

"What did you do?" He spits, and for a moment Coryo wonders how you could even be related.

He feels himself go pale. "I'm sorry, I really am..."

"Pa!" Your brother shouts back into the house, not giving him the chance to explain further. "We gotta go get Y/N/N, somethin' happened to her."

"What?" Your dad's voice comes next, panicked and frantic as he hurries to the door, not even bothering to grab a coat as he and his son push past the boys on the porch.

Coryo hadn't had the chance to meet him yet, and the fact that this is his first impression makes him feel ill.

"What happened, is she hurt?" He asks, stalking quickly down the front path and they follow hastily after.

"She's not hurt." Sejanus assures him quickly.

"She, uhm, maybe..." Coryo says, embarrassingly non-confident. Everyone looks at him. "She caught an elbow to the head, I couldn't stop it. I'm sorry."

"You're Coriolanus?" Your dad says, turning to look at him only briefly.

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you for coming to get us." He replies, nodding to him. "You did the right thing."

Coryo has to ignore the glares Lennox is shooting into him. He must be the only one who knows.

"We didn't know it would be unsafe for her, but we should have. I apologize." Sejanus says, and your father slightly shakes his head.

"She's got a smart head on her shoulders. She wouldn't've gone if she thought something would happen. Can't blame anyone." He replies. "There's no guidebook on how to live with this stuff."

"I have a good idea of what not to do." Lennox cuts in, and Coryo catches him staring at his bruised knuckles. He quickly tucks his hands into his pockets.

Peacekeepers had cleared out the Hob by the time they got back. Coryo recognizes the other kids in Lucy Gray's band as they stand outside, presumably waiting for her to come out. She was still with you, maybe that was a good thing.

"Tam Amber, is Lucy Gray with her?" Your father asks the boy, who nods in response.

"They won't let you in here, but go try the back door. Goes straight to our room, that's where I saw her go."

"Thanks, Son." Your father nods, lips pursed together as he pats his shoulder and quickly brushes past, rounding the side of the building.

Coryo tries to follow, but Lennox stops him abruptly with a hand on his chest. "You better go."

"Listen, I, I don't know what she told you, but-"

"She told me everything I need to know about you." He says, looking back over his shoulder at his dad knocking on the door, ear pressed to it as he calls out for you and Lucy Gray. "And I know that you being here will just make it worse. So go."

Coryo nods, running a hand down his face. "Listen, I get it, I do, but I can't lose her again. I can't. I have to explain-"

"No, no." Lennox cuts him off. Coryo is sick of people cutting him off. "Can't you just let her be happy? We're doing everything we can to convince her she's still alive- that she's safe and it was hard enough already before you showed up. Literally every night she has nightmares about you, because she trusted you. Completely. You've been here less than a day and you hurt her all over again- I can't just stand by and let that happen."

"I did it because that guy said something horrible about her- I just, I couldn't let him get away with that!" Coryo protests, scared that no one would actually give him a chance. "Last time I didn't get to talk to her and I think that's what she needs."

"Oh, you think that? That's spectacular. She'll be cured!" Lennox laughs dryly, rolling his eyes. "We don't need you to fix her. I really don't have time for this, Coryo."

He practically spits the nickname at him, laced with venom as he turns on his heel to go to the door.

Coryo groans, running his hands down his face again as he watches the door open for your brother and father.

"It's like," You take a deep, shaky breath, squeezing the water bottle you're holding in your lap. "It's like he is a different person, Lucy Gray. Do you get it now? Did you see?"

"I believe you. I always have." She nods, looking into your eyes. "I saw it, but..." She sighs, breaking eye contact with you. "I don't think he's a vicious person, Y/N. And I don't think you think that either."

You chew your lip, shaking your head as your eyes fall to the floor.

"Can I give you my opinion?" Lucy Gray asks after a moment, reaching out to hold your hand.

"Truth is truth to the end of reckoning." You say plainly, nodding and gripping onto her hand.

"There's no reckoning, love, okay? I'm your friend first and foremost. I want to help you, and I will always be honest with you." She assures you before continuing. "But I think... I think he's just a normal boy. Boys get in fights all the time-"

"Lucy Gray you didn't see it."

Your best friend is calm, despite you interrupting her. You never did that, but she knows better than to fault you for it now. "Okay, alright. What didn't I see?"

Your hair falls into your eyes as you shake your head, and you quickly push it back with your free hand to look at her. "His eyes."

"His eyes, okay... What about them?"

"He gets... It's scary. Like he wants to do it. Like he enjoys hurting people and, and-" Just recalling it makes your heart rate increase.

"Okay. I believe you." She nods, placing her other hand on yours. "But I think this is more about you than him, sweetheart."

Lucy Gray can see the confusion that knits itself into your creased brow. "It was a scary, traumatic time for you, and I think you're still recovering and that's okay. You may never be the same and that's okay. But I don't think he'd hurt you. I really don't. I think he's a good person."

"I want to think that..." You sniff, shaking your head. "but just as easily that could have been me in the arena. And just as easily that could have been you out there, or, or..." Your train of thought dissipates. "I just mean it doesn't seem that anything is stopping him."

"I don't think it could have been you. He cares about you. You told me that, remember?" She smiles softly. "I think it was inconsiderate of him to act that way out there, but I think you were just reliving something you shouldn't have to. The games can make anyone do bad things."

"Maybe..." You mutter, second-guessing yourself now. You didn't even see his eyes tonight, not until he was looking at you and begging you to listen when you couldn't. He looked just as scared as you, as soon as he realized what he had done.

"Are you sure you saw that today?" Lucy Gray's question shocks you, but it's exactly what you were thinking. "His eyes, I mean. Did you see it again or did you just expect to after last time?"

You jump at the rapid knocking on the back door. Lucy Gray stands up, making her way over to it. You hear muffled voices for a few moments before Lucy Gray returns. "It's your family, I'm going to let them in, okay?" She pats your leg and you nod, and she smiles at you reassuringly before walking away.

You hear the door creak open and you stand up, brushing off the front of your dress and turning to face them as your father and Lennox rush in.

"Honey, are you okay?" Your father asks, quickly gathering you into a hug and you nod, biting back more tears.

"Fine just fine." You whisper. "I'm sorry you had to come all this way..."

Lucy Gray catches a glimpse of Sejanus and Coryo standing outside as she lets your family in, looking back at them talking to you when she slips out. She gently closes the door behind herself and walks up to them. "I thought I told you to go home."

"I know, I know, but-" Coryo looks between her and the door. He sighs, deciding to give up on defending himself. "Is she okay?"

Lucy Gray looks at him, arms crossed over her chest as his hair falls in his eyes and he doesn't immediately fix it, more concerned about you than anything else. "You need to cut your hair." She states plainly.

He's confused, opening his mouth to argue when she speaks again. "You need to cut your hair so she can see your eyes. She'll feel safer with you then." She turns on her heel, nodding to Sejanus before heading back for the door. "When we get her out of there you better be gone- she can't see either of you tonight." She pauses, hand on the handle. "But yes, she'll be okay."

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @scorpiolystoned , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[cicusmicuska]

Part 1: Sweetness of childhood

__________________________________________

“You are late.. again!” A male voice scolded a silver haired girl from behind an old oak tree.

,,Next time you are late princess I might break off this agreement altogether!’’

A stern face emerged from the shadow of the tree. The boy, no older than ten, held an annoyed and angry appearance as he watched the girl, who was carrying a linen bag, fasten her pace towards him.

,,Maybe if you would have helped me with bringing the books I would have been on time”

The girl retorted, discontent clearly evident on her face.

On the boy's face appeared a slight blush, as he was unable to say anything back; he knew she was right, but his vanity stopped him from helping her. He walked back to the tree in silence, and took out from the shadow of the tree two long objects that were neatly wrapped around with a gray cloth, and secured tightly with a black ribbon. He clasped them close behind his arms as he walked back to the girl.

The girl was sitting on the grass when he arrived back, patiently waiting for him to put down the rugged cloth wrapped wooden swords. He knelt down next to her putting down the swords and hastily undid the ribbon. The girl excitedly grabbed one and stood up, clasping the wooden sword with both of her hands.

“So what do you want to teach me first? How to stab?,,

highlighting the last word with an imitation of her swinging the sword in the air, stabbing an invisible enemy in the back.

“Well.. not exactly. The first thing we will learn is how to stand properly.’’ The boy answered amiably. It seems like his anger went away as quickly as it came.

After hearing this the girl let out a dissapointed sigh, making her body limp in defeat.

“But.. Aemond.. you said you would teach me how to fight! ‘Tis is not fair.” Sne said in dissatisfaction as she again in her boredom swung her sword in the air imitating fighting her enemies.

“ We both made an agreement.. I will teach you how to fight but-“

His words were suddenly disrupted as the girl’s sword touched his chest with a sudden swing. Aemond was stunned as the attack came out of thin air— but he, after a momentarily being frozen because of shock,successfully blocked and jumped from her other ones. The first blows only brushed him slightly as he did not fend off all of them; he was still astonished at her patientless nature.

The girl with a wild smile on her face began to swing her wooden sword at Aemond trying as hard to hit him. She was making blows at Aemond, trying hard to imitate the same tricks she saw Jace do when she saw him in the training yard. She raised her sword close to his stomach trying to stab him, but Aemond waking up from his temporary shock quickly started to meet her attacks. Aemond, now fully aware of what is happening, started his own charge at her.

Sound of wood clashing together filled the air of the Red Keeps most abandoned part- the oak tree garden. Both of them agreed to meet here—as it was a forgotten place by all in the Keep.

Aemond grew agitated, his anger growing by the second. With a clever move, he elegantly threw another strike; with his sword quillon he wrenched the sword out of her hand, throwing it down onto the grass.

The heavy sword landed with a huge thump on the ground, while the girl lost her balance to get her sword back and fell to the ground also. On it she tried to get to the sword but to no avail, eas Aemond was quicker and already took it.

Aemond towered the girl victoriously as he easily outpowered her efforts. He pointed his sword towards her while she watched with a murderous look. She with now a disheveled look sat on the muddy grass as her ill fitting dress were all tangled up. She chose the biggest dress she had, so she could roam free in it without getting caught wearing boys clothes underneath.

Aemond slowly came closer to her while she was trying to dust herself off. The motion of her hand ran aggressively down her cote, sweeping the grains of mud off of her. When she finished— she looked at him again, her face and emotions unreadable as he tried to decode them.

“I’ve won.” Said Aemond as firm as he could, enthusing it with as much confidence and pride as he could muster into his words. The statement fell on deaf ears— as when he expanded his hand to gesture towards her to take it and stand up; a mysterious smile appeared on her face radiating mischief, a sudden twitch of her eye telling Aemond she’s planning something.

Aemond’s intuitions were right, as she grabbed his right hand and pulled him down. Aemond, again being surprised by her actions, fell onto her dumbfounded. His face landed straight onto her chest, which he only realized seconds after his fall. As his cheeks turned from pale white to red, his eyes became filled with shame. He knew this was not appropriate of his standing to do, as he remembered his mother's words; “no honorable man should taint a lady’s purity”.

Without hesitation he shoved himself into a sitting position; his hair went tumbling into his eyes, and he blew it away with an impatient burst of air.

She gave him a small smile which morphed into a satisfactory laugh; she rolled out of the way of Aemond with a yelp, and quickly stood up. His confused look was now temporarily fused on his face, his eyebrows arched up, his gaze radiating pure defeatedness. Both of them started to stare at each other saying nothing, the silence almost too comforting to Aemond.

“Why did you do that?” Blurted out suddenly Aemond, which broke the blissful silence between the two.

A mischievous smile lit up the girl's face, spreading all the way to her eyes.

He knew that his mother if she saw the girl's actions— would call her behavior very unladylike. He knew from her mother—remembering the exact sentence when she was giving him a lecture in her solar. “all women must uphold the ideals of the faith..”, which meant that every lady of high status must embody the Maiden— and in their married years, the Mother. He knew that if her mother would see this she wouldn't be surprised at the girl’s untamed brutish nature, after all she was under Rheanyra’s care.

Aemond knew that she was an opposite of all of these higher ideals of the faith, as she did not uphold any of them as his mother told him so, and it seemed Rheanyra was the complete opposite of the Holy Maiden; sullying her name with birthing bastards.

“Well…” Said the girl, pausing directly just to annoy him.

While pausing in her sentence she slowly bent over; so she could be on eye level with Aemond. Her expression told Aemond that she held great joy in his discomfort and frustration at the moment. The cocky smile that seemed stuck on her face grew wider and wider, which bothered him. His eyes keenly scanned her face and stopped at her eyes; his gaze lingered on her dark sparkling violet eyes that intensely stared back at him.

“Maybe you haven’t realized that I enjoy seeing you blushing.” She said, half laughing.

Aemond’s whole face turned red as a beetroot after hearing her words. He tried to cover his flushed cheeks with his hands, he even turned away from her— but to no avail. He wanted to bury himself in his new found shame, scolding himself how he could show weakness to a girl.

If Aegon were there he would surely laugh at him, pointing out to him that a girl could make him flustered.

“Will you get up uncle or you took liking to sitting in the dirt?” with a playful tone asked Aemond, gesturing towards him.

Aemond stood up, acting like he didn't even hear her comment.

“Why was this necessary, Saera?” Said Aemond bitterly while closely observing her, who feeling victorious, walked back to the oak tree and with a loud thud settled down. His face distorted into a grimace that clearly showed a hint of annoyance.

He questioned himself why had he even agree to this meeting; after all he could learn Valyrian from maester Munkun.

Saera, ignoring the question, just simply looked at the boy who now was covered in dirt from head to toe, looking stupidly at her. She examined her artwork carefully, just like an artist would his masterpiece. After that, she with a smug expression showed her tounge out.

Aemond now was fed up, a cross expression quickly took over his face. The young dragon promptly rushed to reach the girl;

He swore to himself that he would smear her haughty look from her dumb face.

“Gaomagon ao jaelagon naejot pikībagon bē aegons vīlībāzma nykeā se ēlī zaldrīzes?”

(Do you wish to read about Aegon’s conquest or my favourite, the first dragon?)

Aemond, surprised , stopped in his track and looked at Saera. Now that he was distracted, he completely forgot his original intentions, as his anger went away as fast as it came. He slowly walked to her, stopping only when he was an arms away.

Saera, without care, took out two books from the linen bag, both of them being old and rusty. One of the books' covers that caught the attention of Aemond, was the one depicting a silver dragon and a man riding it. The creature was carefully crafted from shiny silver— on it, small but recognisable grayish glass scales covered the dragon, starting from the beast's head and ending in its tail. The dragon was majestically ascending from the clouds, its tail not fully visible. The creature seemed otherworldly as its eyes were made out of pure rubies that glistened in the sun. The dragon reminded him of Meraxes, on of Aegon’s conqueror wives dragon.. On the dragon were a silver haired pale man; in his hand a long brown stick. Next to it were Valyrian runes delicately carved into the leather front cover;

it seemed that the carvings were filled in with pure gold. On the spine of the book there was a man with a gray beard watching from the heavens, within his hand a red dragon hatchling. Aemond hadn't seen that book before in the Red keeps library, it seemed ancient, like a relic from a past that is long gone. The other one, Aemond knew well, was about Aegon's conquest. The book was a worn down one, with black, red and gold embroidered leather cover depicting the Targaryen crest that were made from pure gold and dragonglass.

“Nyke eptan nykeā másino jorrāelagon?”

(I asked a question dear uncle)

Saera with a gentle motion of her hands,gestured towards Aemond to sit beside her. With a thud he sat down; with no hesitation and with his soft fingers tapped on the silver dragon book.

,,I haven’t seen this one in the library… where did you get it?” Aemond with a hint of curiosity looked at her, whose face portrayed a proud look.

“You haven't seen it there dear cousin, as it’s not from there… pray thee, as I know you fancy yourself as a scholar on the matter of books, do you know where I’ve got this?”

Aemond, now a little bit confused, glanced at the cover and analyzed it further. While his brows furrowed, and his intense gaze reread the Valyrian runes his mind was hit with the realization that the only place it could come from is Saera’s family. He should have known from the first glance at the gorgeous silver cover of the book that the only place it could have been from is the Vezos family’s extensive old library; the Pregmun. It is widely known that the Vezos family hold the last Valyrian styled library, which possesses extensive ancient knowledge of the Freehold. Thousands and thousands of Papyrus, clay tablets and leather books all sorted by the old Priests of the fourteenth flame. Covering all shorts of knowledge, from blood magic of old to ancient history’s and undiscovered secrets. Its told that on Dragonstone stand a similar kind of library holding similar knowledge, but less valuable than on Dragonfly’s.The Pregmun, made from black limestone, stood tall on the hills of Philamea; the ancestral seat of the Vezos family; Saera’s family.

“ I haven't seen it in the Red Keep’s library anywhere… If I had to guess I would say it is from the Pregmun”

Saera Smiled at him warmly, as Aemond's assumption of the book was accurate. The boy’s stomach turned a little bit, a feeling all too foreign to him.

Saera opened the book and began reading to him in high valyrian; only stopping to ask questions about the context of the book in the old tongue, correcting Aemond and helping him in his pronunciation in all ways she could. This tardy lesson was intense to the boy but his thirst for knowledge was stronger; nothing can stirr the young dragon from his path of embracing his heritage. He was the blood of the dragon, even if he didn't possess one at the moment to prove it. He will know all of the histories of his house, he will know all of his valyrian forbearers tongue and histories. He will be knowledgeable, he will prove his worth; to his mother, his brother… and most importantly his father.

He cannot fail.

[robingurlscorner]

Ma Parker

I started thinking... if Robin somehow got out with a cold and a fever and Batman didn't notice.. she'd let him have it. After all, she's a mom at heart, right?

He found himself coming to at something sharp being pushed into his arm. He tried to sit up but as soon as he did he fell backwards into whatever he was laying on. He felt light headed and weak. “B-Batman?”

In his field of vision appeared an older lady, “Ah no, Boy Wonder, sorry, you are with us.”

He blinked and tried to sit up again, “Ma Parker!”

The lady laughed again but then her expressions turned into concern, “That is right, my boy, but you see you took quite the spill. I was serious when I was worried about your health and here I am correct.”

“Ma, here are the compresses you asked us to get.” Leg’s responded handing the clothes and the bowl of water to her mother. She smiled at Robin, “You sure are lucky Ma found you…you would have frozen outside..”

“B-But I-I’m …I-I …” Robin stammered confused. He leaned forward feeling dizzier than before and held his face in his gloved hands. “Where’s Batman?”

“It’s funny you should mention him, I was about to call Gordon myself, after all you poor poor boy, being forced to run around, its not good for you…here now you just lie back and rest and I will get a hold of Batman for you.”

Robin lie back still confused but felt too sick to care. He just wanted out of here and wanted his mentor. He jumped slightly as he felt one of the compresses be placed on his forehead. He looked around the room feeling the world start turning too quickly making him dizzy. He started to drift off to sleep.

*~*

“Where is he Ma Parker? If you harmed a hair on his head -!” Batman threatened as he burst through the door.

“Now Batman, I maybe a crook but I’m a mother at heart. I saved his life.” She argued leading him in, “Right this way. He’s not doing so well, his fever has risen in the past hour or so.”

The Caped Crusador followed her, his heart pounding. What had they done to Robin? He hadn’t been able to reach the boy at all on his communicator and had been actually relieved to get the phone call from Ma Parker about his wear abouts. “Fever?”

“Yes, Batman, I think he’s got a bout of the flu, the poor boy.” She opened a door one of the bedrooms and walked in. “Robin, you’ve got a visitor..”

Robin was lying on the bed surrounded by pillows and covered up by a few quilts. His face was pale, eyes closed, hair matted. He did look quite ill. “R-Robin?! C-Chum!?” Batman called walking closer and sitting on the chair by the bed. “Great scot, what happened?”

“He’s just a boy, Batman. All of that running around isn’t good for his age. Maybe it finally caught up with him?” She pondered aloud watching Batman stew it all over. “He’ll be alright, Batman.”

Batman only reached forward and placed a gloved hand on Robin’s forehead, “Chum? Can you hear me?”

Robin’s eyes opened slowly but remained heavily lidded, “B-Batman?” His voice was hoarse and tired.

“Easy, lad, I’m here. Ma Parker says you’ve fallen ill.” Batman tried to smile to reassure the young teen that everything was alright but he couldn’t completely do it. He hadn’t seen Robin this ill before and it scared him.

“Before you ask, Batman, you can take him home, the poor boy, I will let you escape without chasing after you.”

“That’s surprisingly kind of you.” Batman said dryly but stood up and gathered the small feverish body into his arms. He held Robin close as the Boy Wonder shivered from his fever and with the blankets no longer there to keep him warm.

Unseen by either of them, Ma Parker just smirked. Her plan was going better than ever. “Here take one of the quilts. It’s hand made and will keep him warm.” She offered.

Batman shook his head and pulled out a bat blanket from his utility belt wrapping it around Robin’s shaking frame, “No offense Ma Parker but I’ve got a blanket.”

She forced herself to smile kindly as she nodded, “As long as he’s warm.”

The Caped Crusader then walked past her, careful to not jolt Robin to much and made his way to the Batmobile. Something just wasn’t right with howfast  Robin had fallen to this illness, it was almost as if he had been poisoned somehow…Robin moaned in his arms causing him to jolt back to the task at hand he quickened his pace getting Robin to the Batmobile and laying him down in the passenger seat. “Just rest, I’ll get you back to the batcave, I promise.”

[cullen-cannons]

Twilight Hunger Games AU

Chapter One - The Reaping

Part Two: Carlisle

I hate myself for it but as soon as they say her name I wince. My first thought is that her best bet is to let herself be put down quickly during the initial fight at the cornucopia. Of all the girls in District 7: how could the powers that be allow this?

I really hope that Edward doesn't . . . No, he wouldn’t, he knows the risks all too well. I allow that thought to assure me.

I immediately find my son, Edward’s face in the crowd. He looks frozen and then determined (why?)  . . . and then . . .

The words ring out loud and clear, no way our district’s escort could miss them.

It’s not the boys’ turn yet, maybe they’ll make him wait. They’ll make him wait and then another boy will be faster. Please, God, I have done everything I can to serve you. Please do not take my son away from me, not yet, not like this.

Once again, a tragedy is allowed.

My entire body turns cold. Just what I feared. But I can’t bring myself to be upset because I know exactly why he did it. He did it for her. Because he loves Isabella Swan, more than his own life. And I know Esme knows this too, I let her rest her head on my shoulder and let her tears soak my jumper.

Even being a victor, I get no special privileges or say in the reapings. All that I can do for the two children now is to help them as best as I can.

Edward has always been . . . wary of himself, ever since his parents passed. He will not tell me why, but I know he does not appreciate being alive as much as one so young as he should, to put it very delicately. But I never thought he’d . . .

I can see it now. He will do everything in his power to ensure the two of them are the last standing . . . and then he will end his life. 

My heart aches for them, for my son and the girl he loves. Isabella Swan, a girl so kind and sweet and caring. Despite all her disability she still cares for her mother. Whenever she can, she works as a secretary in my clinic and I’ve gotten to know her so much that it feels as if two of my children are being sent to the games. A stab to the chest and then a delayed reaction as the poison sets in.

I’m too distracted to hear what the district escort, Libby, says to the crowd about Edward but I see him walking quickly towards Isabella.

I watch as they both walk toward the stage. Edward with worry behind his determination and Bella with resignation. That girl is like the ancient oaks that surround our district. She moves through the world as if she has seen decades go by and now here she stands, facing the storm with no complaints despite the cracks in her trunk threatening to send her crashing. She smiles and waves goodbye to her mother as if she is simply off to work or the market. I can hardly stand it.

I understand Renee Swan’s condition, better than most, actually. I have treated her on several occasions when her flights of fancy have led her into danger or when her faculties have left her entirely and even Isabella cannot make her eat. But why doesn’t she do more? She could at least shed a tear for the daughter who is her caretaker.

In the late-morning light, Bella looks ill. She usually does, with her pale parlour. Anameia, since birth. She’s naturally on the skinnier side, but all her work takes a toll. Edward complains that she doesn’t eat as often or as much as she should. We feed her when we can but she’s always reluctant to partake in meals with a family she feels isn’t hers. Esme and I wish she did not feel that way, but as I said she is an oak and there’s little that can be done to change her mind. And more than once, Alice has seen her giving the food we give her to the younger children that are less fortunate than her, not that I mind I only wish that she’d let us help her.

Her limp is from an accident when she was very young. Most of the time she lacks feeling in her left leg and has trouble controlling its motion. Sometimes she does feel it, and it causes her burning pain. No one knows exactly what’s wrong but I think I know how I could help her. However, we don’t have nearly enough resources here in District 7, it’s a miracle she’s made it this long. She’s a fighter. Maybe her intellect will save her, I can only hope. Hope and pray.

I can do nothing but watch as she stumbles down the aisle to the stage. Edward is quick to catch her and they hold hands as they walk. Edward smiles but it’s a practised charm, covering what I’m sure must be heartbreak.

When they reach the stage their hands don’t part. I’m not sure if it’s a symbol of friendship or if she’s having a dizzy spell again. I suspect the latter but hope for the former. They’ve always been civil to each other, Edward hides his feelings well, but Isabella keeps her distance from everyone. Years of caring for her mother have made her an adult far older than even myself.

Libby commands them to shake hands and after a second of deliberation, they do.

The proceedings go on for another minute and then Edward and Isabella are taken back into the little rooms in the justice building to say goodbye to their families. 

Edward could win, I’m sure of it. He’s fit and young and strong and has a good brain, but I know that with Isabella involved he won’t let himself. I feel my wife slump down further against me as if I lost the will to support her own weight, and I say a prayer. 

Slowly we rise from our seats and go to say goodbye to our son.

[smallestapplin]

Those are quite a few characters so feel free to cut as you please BUT

Emmet, Volo, Blue, Red, Piers, Guzma, Raihan, Milo and Maxie finding their s/o masturbating how would they react? Would they help or watch would they get flusterd or perhaps disappointed that s/o couldnt wait for them

Bestie my character limit is 4 and you gave me 8, half and these bad boys are getting cut. I’m going with Blue, Piers, Volo, and Milo.

🔞18+ only!🔞

-

-

-

💙Blue💙

-

- Oh? You want to cum? Alright, but you asked for it.

- He just lets himself in. You get a quick “mind if I help?”

- The second you say yes it’s all over for you.

- Your legs are trembling, you can’t remember anything aside from his name, even then you forgot how to speak.

- You wanted to cum, you get to cum.

- As many times as Blue can get you to.

- He coos and mocks you for being so desperate and slutty for him, but that you’re so cute and good for him.

- Yeah you maybe cockdrunk now, but all for him.

- And he’s happy to make you cum all you want.

-

🎸Piers🎸

- He is frozen for a minute. He wasn’t expecting to come home to this, he doesn’t know whether to help you or leave you to to.

- The longer he watches the more he realizes he wants in.

- “Well now, ain’t you a pretty sight.”

- He absolutely scares you cause you didn’t know he was there.

- “Need a little hand there?”

- If you say yes and beg for him to help you’re getting the head of a life time.

- Piers always loves going down on you, your sounds and expressions go straight to his cock.

- Please run your fingers through his thick fluffy monochrome hair and tug it. He will moan so prettily against you.

-

👒Milo👒

- Instantly red in the face.

- His short scream got your attention real quick.

- “I-I’M SO SORRY! I DIDNT- ILL GO NOW!”

- You can still hear him apologizing while he runs away. He’s so embarrassed.

- After you come out of your shared bedroom he is rapid fire apologizing some more.

- “I’m sorry! I’m so so sorry! I-I should’ve knock, I-“

- “Milo, sweetie, it’s okay, we have had sex before, honestly you could’ve joined me I wouldn’t have minded at all.”

- He’s dying, he’s breaking, he’s on the floor.

-

🐍Volo🐍

- not going to lie, if you two had agreed to rules for sex, one would be ‘no masterbaiting without his permission.’

- So walking into your shared bedroom to you trying to get off, while a gorgeous sight, is met with a mocking tone “Aw my sweetheart couldn’t wait for me? How pitiful! Even breaking the rule! How rebellious of you.”

- You’re going to end up cuffed and legs spread. He won’t touch you is one of two of your punishment.

- He keeps a vibrator on you, teasing you, abusing your sweet spots just to get you to that edge before pulling away for five to ten minutes to get you to cool down.

- Before doing it all over again.

- You’ll be at this until one of you breaks or a safe word is used.

- He loves getting you so close to cumming then leaving you there with nothing.

- Don’t worry, you’ll get to cum eventually.

[karmic-vibes]

If I Can Dream

6 - All My Brothers Walk Hand-in-Hand

cw: gender dysphoria, misgendering/misuse of pronouns, mentions of deadname, use of f slur

Year: 1985

“Oh, god, Steve!” Eddie moaned.

“Shh, you’re gonna get us caught!” Steve hissed.

He placed a hand over his boyfriend’s mouth to help drown his noises out. He was fucking Eddie senseless in his bed while both his parents were downstairs. They were supposed to be getting ready for Steve’s graduation, but the two boys had other plans.

“Steve? You okay in there?” His mother chirped as she knocked on the door. Steve halted mid-thrust, hand pressed over Eddie’s mouth, both frozen in shear panic. “Steve?”

“I-I’m fine, mom! Just getting dressed!”

“Are you sure, honey? I heard you yell.”

“Yeah, I tripped. I’m fine, I’ll be down in a bit!”

“Alright, hurry it up. We have to be at school in an hour.”

“Okay!”

Once they heard her footsteps descend the staircase, Steve picked up his thrusts again.

“Don’t, shit, don’t worry about me, honey. Just fin– god, fuck! Hmm…” Eddie bit his tongue so he wouldn’t be too loud and blow their cover. “Just finish so we can go.”

“You sure?” Steve whispered.

“Mhmm, c’mon, baby.” Steve quickly kissed his boyfriend as he thrusted harder.

“I’ll make it up to you, honey.”

“Oh, I know you w-ill, fuck…”

The boys wrapped up their session in a few minutes time, and started getting ready. Steve threw on a suit his mom had dry cleaned and Eddie put on the jeans and flannel he wore to Steve’s house.

“I feel like a dweeb,” Steve said as he stared at his reflection.

“Because you are.” Eddie wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and rested his chin on his shoulder. “You may be a dweeb, but you’re cute.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” Eddie walked around and straightened out Steve’s tie for him. “Maybe lose the jacket. I feel like it’ll be too bulky under the gown.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah…” Eddie slid it off his shoulders.

“Don’t tease me, Munson, or I won’t make it to graduation at all.”

“Maybe that’s the plan, Harrington. Maybe you’ll just have to walk with me next year instead.”

“I’m still upset you’re not graduating with me.”

“Eh, it’s fine. I didn’t last year and I’m not this year. Third times the charm, I guess.”

“Oh, that’s reminds me…” Steve walked over to his closet, pulling his letterman jacket from the depths of it. “Can you keep this warm for me while I’m gone from Hawkins High?”

“Stevie… you’re giving me your letterman?”

“Yeah, of course. Put it on.” Eddie eagerly put on the jacket and stared at himself in the mirror. “God, I love seeing you in my clothes. You always look so sexy.”

“Harrington,” Eddie warned. “Behave, big boy. I already let you finish in me today. What more do you want?”

“Don’t make me answer that question.” Steve kissed up Eddie’s neck a few times before going to put on his graduation gown.

“Oh, how handsome…” Eddie tutted his tongue. “Come on before your parents kill me for making you late.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” Eddie stared at him, opening his mouth to make a remark. “Don’t you dare.”

“You make it so easy though, Stevie.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

The ceremony was nothing special—a few people made some painfully dull speeches, people got their degrees, and the stupid green graduation caps were thrown. Once everything concluded, the graduates headed into the crowd to meet up with their families. Eddie ran towards his boyfriend and practically leapt into his arms. Steve hoisted him up around his waist, Eddie’s legs tightly wrapped around him, head buried in the crook of his neck.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered.

“Thank you, baby…” A tear dripped down Steve’s cheek, thinking (for a brief moment) that his boyfriend would never get to experience the same joy.

“Okay, okay, break it up, you two,” Mrs. Harrington chuckled.

“But Pattie, I’m just so proud of him,” Eddie whined, holding Steve impossibly closer.

“We are too, which is why you need to share our son, Eden.”

The name bit—burned even—to hear. Eddie screwed his eyes shut, holding his tears back, as he hopped out of Steve’s grip. Steve gently rubbed Eddie’s back, trying to comfort him the best he could in the moment.

“Mom, we went over this. He– she doesn’t like to be called that.”

Eddie turned his head away from the Harrington’s—they were the last people he ever wanted seeing him cry. He knew that Steve needed to use the incorrect pronouns in front of his parents, but it still hurt to hear them, nonetheless. It was so natural to Steve; addressing Eddie by his proper name and pronouns. His parents, however, were far from doing the same.

“I’m not calling her a man’s name. Not very feminine, now is it, dear?”

“Pattie, what about me screams feminine?” Eddie snapped.

“Ed–“

“No, what is it? Truly, what about me—anything about me—says that I’m feminine?”

“You’re a girl, dear, that’s just how it works.”

“It’s not worth it,” Steve whispered. Eddie bit the insides of his cheeks, holding back his temper for Steve’s sake.

Steve insisted on going back home with Eddie, much to his parents’ dismay. Once the two were back in the trailer, Eddie started screaming, tears of fury running down his face.

“Steve, that was so humiliating! How-How could you tell me it’s not worth it? It’s who I am!”

“I understand that, and I love you for who you are, but my parents are ignorant, Ed. They won’t understand.”

“Make them!”

“How?”

“Tell them about me. Educate them, for Christ’s sake! Make them not be ignorant.”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Steve scoffed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eddie spat.

“What?”

“You’re treating this like it’s some kind of joke.”

“I don’t mean to! It’s just my parents can be assholes. You know that.”

“And?”

“And I live under their roof, Ed. They still have some control over me. If I tell them and they disapprove, then–“

“Then you come live with me.”

“Eddie…”

“I’m serious, Steve. If you love me then you’ll tell them. You’ll make them stop using Eden and the wrong fucking pronouns. It’s degrading.”

“Fine, I’ll tell them. Happy?”

“Very.”

“Good… sorry…”

“It’s okay, big boy. As long as you stand by your word, there won’t be a problem.”

“Is that a threat, Munson?” Steve teased.

“When isn’t it, Harrington?”

The following morning, when Steve headed home to grab a fresh pair of clothes, his parents were at the dining room table finishing up breakfast.

“Morning,” Steve said.

“Morning, sweetie,” Pattie chirped. “Sleep well?”

“Mhmm.”

“How’s Eden?”

“I told you, he doesn’t like to be called that.”

“He?” Mr. Harrington quirked a brow and lowered his newspaper.

“Yeah… he…”

“I-I don’t understand,” Pattie stuttered.

“Mom, dad… Eden isn’t Eden. He’s Eddie.”

“You’re dating a man?” Mr. Harrington angrily stood up from the table and approached his son. Steve swallowed hard as his father approached him.

“Yes, dad, I am. He-He’s trans, so yes, at some point he was Eden, but now he’s Eddie.”

“So she’s still a girl?” Mr. Harrington spat.

“No, he’s a guy.”

“So, even if we play into this nonsense and say that she is a man–“

“He, dad, Christ!”

“It still doesn’t change the fact that you’re dating someone who is claiming to be a man.”

“And?”

“I didn’t know my son was a–“

“Don’t you dare finish that thought, John,” Pattie warned. “Steve, honey, we’re just… shocked is all. First you say your girlfriend isn’t really your girlfriend anymore, then you say you like men. It’s a lot to process.”

“Eddie’s trans and I’m bi. Not sure what’s so hard to grasp about that.”

“I didn’t raise a fag,” John spat.

“Well, turns out, you did,” Steve grit his teeth. “I love him. He’s not going anywhere. Get used to it.”

“I’m not calling her whatever she wants to be called. She’s Eden, Steve. Do you understand?”

“Either you call him by his proper name or you’ll never see me again. Are we clear?”

“If you cut yourself off, you can kiss your trust fund goodbye, Steven.”

“I’d rather be happy and broke with him, than miserable and rich with you two. Make up your minds. I’m grabbing some clothes and heading back out. Don’t know when I’ll be back.”

And with that, he stormed up to his room and gathered what he needed for the coming weekend. He haphazardly tossed everything into a spare duffel bag before running back down the stairs.

“Bye.”

“Steven,” Pattie called.

“What?”

“Just… be safe?”

“When am I not? Bye.”

He stormed out the front door, racing to his car. He sped out of the driveway and back to Eddie’s house. When he returned, Eddie was still fast asleep in bed. It warmed Steve’s heart to see him resting so peacefully. Before he could wake up, Steve decided to make the two of them breakfast (along with some extras for Wayne when he woke up later in the day). As Steve was setting the table, Eddie trudged into the dining area, rubbing his eyes and pushing his crazed hair out of his face.

“‘S all this?” he mumbled.

“I made breakfast. We have pancakes, some scrambled eggs, and some bacon. I know it’s not much, but it’ll definitely do. Sit, honey.”

Steve pulled Eddie’s chair out for him and carefully pushed him back in to the table. Eddie raised a brow at his boyfriend, who was usually never this chipper in the morning.

“What’s gotten into you?” Eddie asked.

“Nothing, just wanted to show how much I appreciate you.”

“What’d you do?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re guilty of something. What’d you do?”

“Literally nothing, Eddie. I stopped by my parent’s house to grab some stuff and was already pretty awake when I came back. Figured I’d put my energy to use. C’mere.”

Steve set down his cooking utensils and pulled Eddie’s messy hair back into a ponytail, stealing the hairband off Eddie’s wrist. When his hair was secured, he went back to setting the table. Eddie’s face was contorted, mouth agape, brow raised, eyes partially squinted.

“What?” Steve asked.

“I dunno… I don’t know if I like happy-go-lucky Steve. It’s weird.”

“Why is it weird?”

“It just is. Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

“I’m still him.”

“Debatable.”

“Yeah, okay. Eat your damn breakfast.”

“Ah, there he is,” Eddie teased.

“I hate you.”

“You wish.”

[honeymilkk00]

Haikyuu Boys: You Flinch

Pt 2

@silver-argent​ :  Hii! I super looooove the way you wrote Haikyuu Boys: You flinch, perfect amount of angst to fluff! Are you taking requests? If you are, will you please do a Sakusa and Kenma? the you flinch. It's okay if you don't tho! I'll still look forward to your works!❤❤

tysm for the encouraging words!! my requests are open and im more than happy to do Sakusa and Kenma jewbjkew. i hope you enjoy. i'm literally so tired and just wanted to finally get this out <3

characters:

-sakusa

-kenma

___________________________

Sakusa

Dating Sakusa was the last thing you ever thought would happen to you. He filled your days and nights with such love and passion. You had broken through his stoic and cold shell and had seen him for who he truly was deep inside- a loving partner through and through.

Of course, old habits die hard. Since he had spent years of his life being a reserved person, only putting up with his family and teammates, he still was very hesitant when it came to affection. Sometimes all he wanted to do was to be alone with his thoughts and nothing else. It hurt to see him like that, knowing that no matter what, you couldn’t help him, but you understood and gave him the time he needed.

Five months into yours and his relationship had lead to a few disputes, but nothing too serious. He was a prideful, headstrong man which lead to you having to bite your tongue during arguments and keep your snarky words to yourself, refusing to let them slip off the tip of your tongue. If they did, the argument would escalate. 

You loved Sakusa for everything he was, bad parts and good, but sometimes he was too much. 

And, that’s how you were here, biting your lip harshly as you stare at him, refusing to let your anger get the best of you. 

Sakusa had been coming home quite late due to volleyball practise, but it got to the stage where you were scared that he was doing to overwork himself and injure himself. Instead of letting it slide, you confronted him about it and suggested that he should take some time to let his body heal from the strenuous training regimen that he was doing. It seemed that Sakusa wasn’t in the best of moods and had snapped at you, shooting abhorrent words towards you as if you were nothing but a pile of shit, accusing you of restricting him from reaching his full potential and trying to turn him away from volleyball because you were too clingy for his liking. 

“Fucking hell (Y/N), you’re so fucking clingy! Just because you’re an attention whore and want me to worship you doesn’t mean you can try and take me away from what I love doing. You’re so fucking obsessive it’s driving me crazy!” Sakusa bellowed and clenched his hands together, his nails digging into his hands. 

Taking a deep breath to keep yourself as calm as possible, you spoke in a soft tone, “Omi, I’m not trying to keep you from anything. I just think you should rest your body before you overwork yourself and become ill or injure yourself. I know you want to improve but that can happen gradually over time. I doesn’t need to happen all at once.” You murmured and gently placed a hand on his, trying to reassure him.

Letting out a deep, angered growl, Sakusa pulled away from your grip harshly and pushed your hand away, “don’t fucking touch me! You’re fucking disgusting! All you do is hold me down and try and control my life, you obsessive pest!” He hollered out.

His words ripped open your chest and stabbed you in the heart repeatedly. You felt like you were choking on your own heartbeat. It hurt knowing that your lover found you disgusting. A strong feeling of rage surged through your veins. “How fucking dare you, Sakusa! I’ve done nothing but tried to help you and all you do is treat me like shit. Every time we argue I have to bite my tongue because I know that if I retaliate, you’ll just get even more angry. I can’t express how I feel to you anymore and I feel as if I don’t matter in this relationship. If you want to overwork yourself and injure yourself then fine, go ahead, but don’t blame me for saying I told you so after it’s happened!”

His eyes narrowing at your words, Sakusa swiftly turned to glare at you and raised his fist, poking your chest aggressively, “Fine, I will then because I’m not letting you control me anym-” He paused mid sentence, his eyes widening when he noticed you flinching when he raised his hand. Slowly, he lowered his hand and dropped them at his sides. Your shaking figure made his heart clench painfully tight. “(Y/N) I-”

“I can’t do this anymore, Sakusa.” You voice whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. Tears rolled down your cheeks and you sniffled quietly. “I can’t handle this pain anymore. I can’t handle feeling like I’m walking on egg shells with you. I can’t handle being afraid of how you’ll react when I speak about how I feel. I just can’t do this anymore.” You voice got quieter and quieter the more you spoke. Looking up at Sakusa, you swallowed thickly. “I can’t do us anymore.” 

Sakusa was frozen, watching you carefully. It was deathly silent. The only sound he could hear was the sound of his heartbeat beating rapidly. 

“I’ll pick up my things tomorrow. I’m going to stay at Atsumu’s for the night.” You whispered and turned away, heading towards the front door. 

A small, almost whine-like noise left Kiyoomi’s mouth. He reached out and clasped your hand gently, tears forming in the corner’s of his eyes. “Please.” He begged quietly.

Looking back at the man you loved, your heart shattered into small pieces when you noticed his dampened eyes. Never had you seen him cry before. “What is it?” You asked quietly, biting the inside of your cheek.

Sakusa pulled you in tightly for a hug and pressed his lips against your cheek gently. “Please don’t leave. Please please please… I’m so so sorry (Y/N).. I didn’t mean anything I said. I love you and I’m grateful for everything you do for me. I’ve just had a really bad day. Please I love you. Please don’t leave. You’re my baby... “ He pleaded softly and held you tightly, as if afraid that you’d disappear if he let go. 

Letting out a sigh, you caved in. You were still mad at him but at the end of the day, you loved Kiyoomi more than anything else. You would give up everything for his happiness. “Kiyoomi...” You whispered softly and then turned around so you were face to face with him. Gently cupping his cheeks, you sighed, “I love you so so much Kiyoomi... But you can’t say stuff like that to me even if you’ve had a bad day. You really really hurt me even though I was just trying to look out for you.” You explained and frowned softly, kissing his tears that resided in the corner of his eyes. 

Pressing his lips softly against your hands that rested on his face, he let out a shaky breath that he didn’t realise he was holding, “I know... I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I promise I’ll do better..” He whispered gently and pressed his nose into your hair lovingly. “I love you so much...”

Leaning in closer to Sakusa, you inhaled his scent, “I love you too, Omi..”

He never wanted to see you flinch like that again.

________________________

Kenma

Kenma was an erudite genius when it came to the art of strategy. His deep understanding of the game and the unspoken pledge to win is what drove him forward and kept him reaching, grasping, clutching for new strategic idea that would leave his opponents breathless.

For days, maybe even weeks, on end, Kenma would be researching, training, and repeating the process until he felt confident in his methodology that would be used in a game. Thus, led to a breakdown. After weeks of undereating, lack of sleep, training beyond his physical capabilities, and his mental strain thinking of ways to defeat the opposing team, Kenma was at his wits’ end. 

As his partner, you immediately noticed the changes in his personality. Of course, concern was your initial reaction and you were somewhat frightened of irritating him more, but you knew you had to confront him about his lack of self care. Seeing him train during lunch and falling asleep in lessons led you to realise how hard he was working himself. 

So, after school you managed to pull him to one side before he proceeded to train at the club. A frown was present on your lips and you took a deep breath. Looking at him now hurt a lot: his eyebags had considerably increased since the last time you saw him; you could now see physically where he had lost weight from undereating for weeks; his eyes seemed a lot duller; his body slouched over slightly, as if it was begging for a break. It was agony to see your partner slowly harm his body and mind like this.

"Kenma, just know I love you so much and I understand that volleyball means a lot to you right now since it's your final year with your team as you know it with Kuroo as captain, but look at yourself. You're not taking care of yourself at all. You aren't helping you or your teammates by undereating and not sleeeping." You murmured gently, taking Kenma's hands in your own. You knew that you had to be careful and not push your boyfriend, but you couldn't let it continue.

Kenma simply frowned at your words and pulled his hand away from yours, "(Y/N), I don't need your lecturing. I'm perfectly fine taking care of myself. I don't need you." He hissed out and turned his back on you, proceeding to head to practise. He had no time to waste on pointless conversations.

(Y/N) grinded their teeth together, their heart aching slightly at the harsh words, "I'm not lecturing you, Kenma! I'm doing what a s/o should do and I'm looking out for you! Please just take a small break before you overdo it!" You hallooed, as if that would make the words sink in.

Vexed, Kenma turned around with a deep scowl on his face, "Why don't you just back off, (Y/N)!? I don't care about you right now, all I care about is me and my teammates winning this game!" He shrieked, which caused you to trip back and swallow thickly.

A small whimper escape your lips and tears formed in the corners of your eyes as you flinched. You were normally fine with Kenma's salty attitude, but he never usually shouted at you. Taking a shaky breath, you looked at your boyfriend dead in the eyes, "fine! Do what you want to do! Since you don't care about me I won't bother anymore! Don't you fucking dare come running to me when you overwork yourself and can't handle it anymore!" You retorted and turned away.

Kenma's eyes widened slightly at your words as he watched you turn away. "Wait...." He whispered out, his hand reaching towards yours. Lightly, he grasped your wrist and sighed, pulling you close and burying his head in your shoulder. "'M sorry... I'm just so stressed..." Tears brimmed his eyes and he sniffled softly. "I didn't mean it..."

Letting out a soft sigh, your shoulders relaxed and you pulled your lover in for a cuddle. "I know you didn't mean it baby... But remember your health comes first, volleyball after." You whispered and gently stroked his hair. He simply nodded in response and hugged you tighter.

Maybe you both could work things out. You just need to learn to communicate more.

[nemeseos-noctua]

Hi! Could i request hcs for Diluc and Xiao with a reader who is shy? Thank you!

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: xiao, diluc (separate) x gn!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: a few swears in diluc’s! (it’s like one or two)

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: this is actually my first tumblr post.... ive been super busy with school, sports, and other stuff. sorry! ill try to write more in the future! (constellations has been doing everything so far since i still dont know how tumblr works lol)

also, these are stupid long... and for what.

adventuring was a lot for you to process

okay, so maybe having your own Benny’s Adventure Team was not great while traveling through Dragonspine and Liyue

too many of everything

you ended up getting really beat up.

after passing through Mingyun Village, you could see Wangshu Inn and decided to stay there until you were healed up

you always found comfort in the night sky, so you went out there every day

It was your fifth night staying at the inn before you saw a short male standing on the balcony where you would usually be. Strange. You’d never seen anyone like that before.

You seemed to have caught him off guard when you started to approach him since he jumped a little. 

Taking a closer look at his face, you studied it a bit. He had golden eyes and dark teal hair that seemed to frame his face perfectly, accompanied by lighter streaks of the same colour.

Pretty... you thought, completely entranced by this strange man (boy?). 

“Ah, sorry. I’m probably disturbing you... I’ll go now...” 

He blinked. 

god he’s in love

not even romantic love but he loved you like the past adepti

xiao would see so many couples over the years that he’s been at the inn and absolutely hated them, but this?? 

okay it’s a different type of love but damn it felt nice

You started to turn and walk back to your room before hearing his voice.

“Stay.” 

STAY??? WE MOVING KINDA FAST BUT ALRIGHT PRETTY BOY !! 

On the outside, you were cooler than a cucumber. The inside? Chaos. Millions of thoughts raced throughout that little head of yours. 

“Only if you’re fine with it...”

Turning back around, you took a few steps forward before noticing that he wore a lot of accessories on him. One of them being a mask that resembled one of the Vigilant Yaksha’s in that one book you read as a kid. Probably just a fan or something.

You reached the balcony, taking a spot next to him while also keeping some space between the two of you. Leaning on the balustrade (the railing of a balcony), you rested your head on top of your arms.

A comfortable silence was placed in the middle of the two. A silent breeze blew, adding to the mellow mood. 

“What brings you here?” the pretty stranger suddenly inquired, gaining a small jolt from your serene state. “Did I scare you? My apologies.”

“Oh, uh, it’s nothing...” You lifted your head to look out at the lands of Dihua Marsh. Seeing Dragonspine in the distance gave you a chill. Those were not the greatest memories. The small movement didn’t go unnoticed by the boy.

“You’re an adventurer?”

“Oh... yeah, I am... I’m not that experienced yet, though...” 

for SOME REASON... this man felt even more inclined to protect you

you still had a fair amount of bandages wrapped around your limbs, so it was clear that you were injured

GOD IF HE COULD JUST HUG YOU RIGHT THERE AND THEN

but he did not.

he has restraint.

he is a good boy.

“I met a traveler that wasn’t very experienced either.” This fact shocked you. So he has been here for a while... but why hadn’t you seen him before? Does he just... disappear into thin air..?

the answer is yes

he does indeed do that

but that’s besides the point.

“Oh... that’s nice...” 

It was getting late. The moon was starting to lower back down and the lids of your eyes were getting heavier and heavier by the minute. You let out a yawn, but it was muffled by your head being buried in your arms once again.

“You should go get some rest.” You hummed. 

Then, a thought popped into your head.

“If you don’t mind me asking... what’s your name?” 

Even though you weren’t facing him, you could feel his piercing gaze on you. It wasn’t uncomfortable at all, but gave you a feeling of protection.

“Xiao.” You mouthed his name to yourself silently. It was nice.

“Goodnight, Xiao. I hope that we can do this again soon.”

“Goodnight to you...”

“(Y/N).”

“...(Y/N).”

you were a cryo catalyst that tried to fight against some cryo slimes alone

hint: that was a bad idea

my favourite elemental reaction was immune!

literally... you couldn’t even do anything to them

and you were getting beat up. 

badly.

for plot convenience you were at the lake next to Dawn Winery

“Shit...” 

At this point, you’d been fending these slimes off for around a quarter of an hour now and you were getting tired now.

Your dumbass tried to drown them in the lake but forgot that they immediately froze any moisture underneath them. You tried attacking them but everything you could do was inflict the freeze effect (against CRYO slimes). 

You literally could not do anything. Time to get frozen to death!

“Burn!”

WHAT???

Suddenly, a big fire bird swept up the slimes that had been occupying you for the last 20 minutes or so, effectively taking them out. 

At this point, the only thing that kept you standing was your adrenaline, which quickly ran out as you dropped to the ground in exhaustion. You let out a sigh, finally free from those damned slimes. You will have your revenge one day... just not today.

While you were resting on the ground, your saviour had been standing there, watching you calm down. And so you looked up to be greeted by probing crimson orbs, which definitely startled you.

Your saviour was.... Master Diluc. Master Diluc Ragnvindr, wealthiest man in Mondstadt. Him. In front of you. 

“OH! I, um, Master Diluc! What brings you here?” 

‘WHAT BRINGS YOU HERE??’ HE LIVES HERE THOUGH?? 

“I was taking a stroll around the winery and happened to see you in your own predicament.”

You attempted to stand up, though your legs failed you as you only flopped back onto the dirt. 

diluc doesn’t wanna admit it but that was unbelievably stupid, cute, and endearing

okay and what if this emo boy doesn’t like people

he still has feelings too >:(

“I’ll stay here with you so you won’t get attacked again. So relax.”

Mans was telling you to “relax” while you were in the presence of a literal typhoon here. He was so brooding and scary-looking all the time that you couldn’t even try to relax.

A few minutes pass and the sound of water rushing was the only thing keeping you two company. 

It was nice to enjoy nature, but the tension between the two of you was still higher than ever.

To break this silence, you had tried to stir up some small talk.

“The weather is nice today, huh...”

He grunted, which seemed to be a regular response of his. You started to notice this after a few questions like “how’s your day been” or “have any plans today?”

Not that you were genuinely interested. You bet that he could tell that you were trying to make it less awkward by responding at all, but it just didn’t help at all.

You were probably sitting for a good 10 minutes before deciding to stand up again, in which you were successful. But could you walk back to the city?

That was debatable.

You definitely felt and looked unstable, so being the gentleman he was raised to be, Diluc reluctantly bent down and slung your shoulder over his.

The height difference between the two of you was pretty big, so he ended up just carrying you to his place. As goofy as it looked, it got the job done.

― riri ✨

[theravencawsatmidnight]

A gift for the engineer 💚

Pt ii

ily Karl.

Tags. @shy-ginger-in-the-graveyard

Part 1 at the bottom. The Lycans are giant fur babies okay? I will fight anyone who disagrees.

Heisenberg wasted no time getting you up on your feet to lead you out of the room. He had to steady your wobbly body a few times but you managed to stand. Your little dog ears wiggled around at all these new heightened senses too; everything was louder, clearer and your sense of smell was 10x better.. But you wish it wasn't.

“Cmon cmon, i was in the middle of something and i need to make you a room” he pestered in a playful tone while patting your back till you moved. A quick step and you had latched onto his arm tugging the heavy coat he was wearing trying to get him to look at you. You still had your cuffs and muzzle on, you at least wanted these things removed before going anywhere..The man tipped his head down at you giving you the same smile as before and simply said “lets go Chisel” . Maybe.. Maybe he was going to remove them at this new place.. He pat your hand with his free one and strolled out of the room with you, holding the chain attached to your cuffs tight.

It was so cold outside.. Instantly you felt goosebumps crawl up your arms to your neck and back making the cuts sting and you whine into the muzzle. The Lycan was following from behind too. The village looked abandoned , destroyed, in pieces. There was no life in this village, not anymore. Heisenberg tugged the chain and you tripped over your feet following him down a path through the woods, brittle leaves cracking under your bare feet and his massive hammer he dragged behind him.

This man had bits of metal hovering around him while he walked; he seemed to attract it and it floated around him till he sent it away. Was he some kind of magic being? You reached up poking a rusted scrap metal sending it to float away hitting a tree and falling to the ground. It got a chuckle out of Heisenberg. Oh this will be fun he thought.

You were falling behind a bit now, you were freezing in this snow and these tattered clothes were no help at all. Your steps got smaller and your knees wobbled, blurry vision and breathing was hard to do ...even a fire would help just for a minute.. Its hard to keep up.. Everything feels weak, heavy. Your grip on Heisenberg's coat was giving way and you stumbled a few times. He looked down at you with an impatient groan.

“Chisel is it really that hard to walk in a straight line? Hell the Lycans are walking better than … oh.” he stopped to see you holding yourself shivering in place with a Lycan next to you looking confused. Heisenberg leaned his hammer on a nearby tree to lift his glasses and rub his eyes, hand on his hip. “What am i gonna do with you? “ he asked himself.

You tried to speak but the muzzle was making it difficult , everything was cold and it was making it hard to stand up. You could not feel your feet and you were pretty sure you were frozen to the ground. The Lycan nudged your leg trying to get you to move but you just stood there staring at nothing.

“Rrr…”

“I know i know” Heisenberg said to the Lycan, pulling his coat off and wrapping you up in it. “Already too much trouble and we aren't even there yet. Hup!” he picked you up bridal style and continued his walk through the path. “Maybe ill put a heating source in you that should prove handy” he told himself while he walked. The Lycan following close with the hammer in its mouth like a proud boy.

It was so warm… so warm.. You felt as if you were thawing out.. You could feel the chill on your face again and hear the clicking of the chain bounce around with each step. The coat covered you leaving just your toes to deal with the cold but you did not mind it too much. You peaked up at the man to see him looking straight ahead paying you no mind. He did not seem upset that he had to carry you. So warm… you were so warm.. It was becoming hard to stay awake. Everything got smaller till there was nothing at all.

**

The thick smell of smoke woke you up and the sound of what seemed to be an elevator, the creaky gears trying their hardest to work. The light fading in and out over your eyes making you whine and nuzzle your face away into Heisenberg's chest to hide from it. Heisenberg was too deep in thought right now to respond. A room… a safe room for you. Keep his experiments out and away from you. Where was he going to put you while he made that !? Gawd. he wanted to experiment on you too. Hmm.. a heat source if you ever go outside. Weapon? The Lycans dont bother you but his damn family might try to get their dirty hands on you. So much to think about.

The elevator creaked to a stop and Heisenberg walked out seeing his factory staring back at him. Clicking and clacking, gears turning, heavy smoke making its way out of the factory into the sky . Lycans were running rampant everywhere , fighting with each other and howling into the sky once they see Heisenberg step out of the elevator. Most of them jumped down to where the man was sniffing at you and the Lycan who was holding the hammer. They seemed very interested in you and wanted to lick you all over to figure out who and what you were.

“Now now” he shook them off stepping over the Lycans walking down some steps to a small room. “This should beeeee okay . right?” he asked the Lycan following him who spit the hammer out to go in the room. “Stay here with Chisel, i wont be long. And do not, eat, her.” Heisenberg set you down in his chair placing his hat on you. “Ill be back in a little bit.” he picked up some pliers from his desk freeing you of the muzzle and cuffs. “Stay here. You wont get far if you run.” and with that he left,he grabbed his hammer and then the door locking it behind him with a few clicks.

You looked around fast pulling the coat closer seeing a dark room with a big vent in the corner, you could hear screaming coming from it and hoped whatever it was, it could not climb. Your eyes landed on the Lycan and he was sitting, staring at you with a tilted head and his tongue hanging out.

[iwadori]

Hey! I really liked that atsumu x reader fic where reader's Kita's sister. Could we get a similar fic but instead it's Kuroo dating kenma's equally as socially awkward sister/team manager?

Dating your Brothers teammate PT 2 (Kuroo)

Part One Part Two Part Three

Word count: 1.8K

Genre: angst, fluff

You were a first year in Nekoma high school

You kept to yourself, since you found it hard to make friends

You spent your time in your classes, the library or joining your old brother’s (kenma) practices, although when you did attend you didn’t socialize with all your brother teammates you either sat with a book on in your hand or (if you were lucky) played on Kenma’s nintendo swtich.  

When Kuroo first saw you, he thought you were the prettiest girl that he ever laid his eyes on. He was speechless, to say the least. Kenma introduced him and you first as when you started in your first year, since he knew that you two should at least be acquainted with each other as you were all going to be walking to school together.

You found Kuroo very annoying (and that was an understatement) his debonair smirk, his wild wild bedhead and all of his continuous chemistry puns were things you found attractive annoying about him.  

Sometimes when you attend practice, you could tell that Kuroo was trying extra hard in an attempt to ‘show off’ to you, but you took no notice since you knew what type of guy Kuroo was (well you thought). Kuroo was a heavy flirt (well everyone he laid eyes on) he also was a giant dick. To you, he was a your average stereotypical teenage boy.

One day, Kenma fell ill with a cold so it just left you alone to walk to school. However, when you left your house, you see the last person you want to see.  

“Kenma’s not coming today” you whisper softly, but loud enough for him to hear.

“Yeah I know” he smiled

“So then why are you here?” you ask

“Well I’ll have you know Y/N, I’m here to see you.” he said as you start walking

On your route to school, you don’t say much just letting Kuroo talk about things or asking you questions to which you just nodded or shook your head in reply. As much as you’d like too, you didn’t know how to properly talk to someone like Kuroo, knowing the types of conversations he’s used to having with people, especially other girls.

Reaching the gates of Nekoma, before you could step inside Kuroo pulls you to side and puts his hands on your shoulders “Y/N” he says,

“Yes Kuroo?” you look up at him

“I just want to say I like you..” he says waiting for a response from you  

“I-I ...umm” You didn’t really know what to say, although you did find him annoying beyond relief there were some redeeming qualities about Kuroo that you could think of. But would two even work properly?

From your lack of response Kuroo continued, “I’m sure you don’t trust me right now, but Y/N don’t worry I’ll make sure I’ll prove to you that I’m a good guy for you.”

You couldn’t do anything but nod, since you didn’t really know what to say to that. Just then, the bell rings and you were still frozen in place, only snapping out of your trance when you hear Kuroo shout from afar “Don’t worry Y/N im going to do my best to woo you!”

Over the next month, Kuroo is doing his extra best to get you to fall in love with him doing things like: walking you to your lessons, carrying your books for you, bringing you lunch and spending everyday complimenting you to your face and to his friends.  

His actions made you swoon, you did feel more comfortable around him, although you haven't confessed your feelings yet, you were planning on to at the date that you reluctantly accepted to go on. You were going to have dinner first at this nice restaurant that you showed interest in ages ago and you were planning to watch a sequel to *insert favourite movie here* since he knew that you really liked the first one.

Before leaving out to the date you looked in the mirror giving yourself a once over. ‘Wow I look hot’ you thought smiling, you were kind of excited to see Kuroo and hear what he had to say about how you looked today. When you were leaving you were startled by Kenma who said

“Where are you going Y/N?” he asked with his eyes focused on his game

“Oh, to the library” you lied your cheeks heating up.

“Sure, you are...” he said

“Bye Kenma” you say putting your hand on the door knob

“Oh Y/N” he calls

“Mhm”  

“You look nice today” making you smile wide giving your brother a ‘Thank you’ before finally leaving.

On the way to the restaurant, you had a pep in your step, you felt the happiest you’ve ever been in a while. You stood outside the restaurant and took a few deep breaths to calm the sudden surge of nerves that washed over you. You counted to 10 and walked in the resturaunt freezing at what you saw, there was Kuroo looking as handsome as ever but next to him was a beautiful girl who was tall and had long hair, pretty eyes and a great body who also reminded you of someone you knew (but you just couldn’t put your finger on it.)

She exclaimed “Tetsu!” and pulling into a hug, her boobs pushing against his chest making you cringe. You didn’t know what to do, you couldn’t compete with this European-looking supermodel, especially she already looks really friendly with ‘Tetsu.’  

You storm out the restaurant a bit too aggressively, causing attention to yourself making Kuroo look at over to you, cursing himself for knowing how the situation looks to you. He chases after you, but sadly you were already gone.

When you got home, you rushed upstairs to your room with tears in your eyes. You knew this was stupid in the first place ‘Trusting a guy like Kuroo Testurou, how stupid can you be.’  

Kenma came into your room, never asking or caring to know what happened as he knew that once you were ready to tell him you would. You and Kenma have always been close, as you’re both as quiet as each other you never felt the need to be surrounded by a bunch of people since both of you were just what each of you needed.

You managed to forget the awfulness of your ‘date’ getting distracted by trying to win in a game of Murder Mystery on roblox and also having fun trolling 6 year olds with your brother. The night was basically ended and before you dozed off to sleep and Kenma went to his own bedroom he said “At least talk to him Y/N” leaving your room not waiting for a response.

As you slept, you thought about what Kenma said ‘what more is their to say to Kuroo?’ You did think about all the possibilites of what could’ve really happened with Kuroo and that girl. Maybe they’re just friends? You didn’t want to think about the possibility of you being wrong. You were never wrong. So you just slept with the assumption of Kuroo being who you thought he was in the first place. A womanizing dick.

As lonely it was, you didn’t tag along with Kenma to the gym and you made sure to wake up earlier so you didn’t have to walk to school with your brother and your boyfriend his best friend.  

Kuroo really wanted to talk to you again but you were heavy on the ignoring him. He even asked Kenma for help, but even though your brother was definitely always going to be on your side no matter what, he didn’t want to be in between his bestfriend and his little sister.

When you were walking home from school one day, you were stopped by the pretty girl that was with Kuroo on your ‘date.’ “Hi, my name is Alisa Haiba” she said smiling

‘Haiba’ you thought ‘Where do I know that surname?’ until you realised, “Oh your L-”

“Lev’s sister, that knucklehead is my brother” she laughed

“So what do you need me for?” you ask  

“Me and Kuroo are just friends, I know you probably won’t believe me but me and him are NOT dating or anything romantic, he’s as much as a little brother too me then Lev is” she said

“Oh ok, thanks” you didn’t have any more to say and with this newfound information, you did feel more inclined to give Kuroo a chance, and that is if he even wanted one after all the ignoring and avoiding you’ve been doing. Now you feel stupid.

You thought back to all your times with Kuroo, making you smile. You knew what you had to do, you couldn’t shy away from this anymore, you thought about the scenario of him completely rejecting you and to be honest you were content with that as if ‘you don’t ask you don’t get’ or whatever the saying is. Since it was Friday, you knew that Kuroo would be at Kenmas playing smash bros on their switches (and that’s when you would usually spend extra time at the library to avoid him.)

So, you rushed to your house, dramatically opening the door exasperated. “Kuroo!” you shout, not even looking to see if he was there, to your horror there was the whole team over tonight who were quite humored by your shout.  

You went red and then shyly whispered “May I speak to Kuroo please?” looking up at him “that’s if you wanted”

“Umm...sure” he said getting up to follow you into your room.

Kenma gave you a reassuring smile that read ‘Everything's going to be ok.’ You led Kuroo to your bedroom and sat on your bed fidgeting.  

“I’m sorry”

“I’m sorry”

You both say at the same time, making each other laugh he waits for you to speak, “Kuroo, I’m sorry for misreading the situation and ignoring you and making you out to be a complete dick, I know I’m probably a bit too late but I’d love to ask you on a proper date... one that I won’t run away on this time”

“Y/N, it’s fine. I’m sorry for not actually explaining the situation as I know what it looked like. And yes, I will definitely take you up on that date... that’s if you’ll have a ‘dick’ like me” he jokes

You playfully shove his arm, making you both laugh. You spend the rest of the night with Kuroo in your room catching up on all the things you’ve both missed out on in the time when you were ignoring him.

The date you went on was better than you imagined, Kuroo was definitely a great guy (making you feel even more stupid for assuming differently in the first place.) You developed an amazing relationship with Kuroo, which lead you to eventually become mrs Y/N Kuroo and having Kenma and Kuroo be able to officially call themselves ‘real brothers’

AN: I really actually enjoyed this one, so I hope you do too. <3

[caramelcal]

His Favorite Girl

a/n: HELLO. (sounding like the guy in the cinema cba lol) anyways I have returned for a brief period of time to share this update with you guys. It’s based off of this request here: “ Do you think you could write a Luke x gang again where maybe he has to leave for work during sex and the reader touches herself out of frustration and he comes back and finds her ?” 

STOP BECAUSE THIS IS DEFINITELY NOT WHAT THE REQUESTER WANTED BUT ILL WRITE SOMETHING AGAIN BUT LIKE JUST TH REQUEST IF THATS WHAT YOU GUYS WANT SDGHGDFGBH but this is kinda a part 2 to the Bambi/His Favorite Secret series thingy cause a few people wanted that! thank you guys so much for all the love mwah

i should literally be studying rn but im not so <3 im very sorry for this abomination lol

sorry for the long a/n guys! :( enjoy x 

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smutty stuff (fucking, fingering, anal and all that...ive never written this before so PLS PLS PLS give me feedback omg) uh choking, doesn’t have a daddy kink in this but sir is mentioned. talks of being tied up and being tied up? talks about overstim... he calls her little girl at one point...

“Luke! Stop moving!” She lightly slapped her boyfriend’s hand, to which he groaned in return. Her tongue stuck out slightly from between her lips in concentration, eyebrows furrowing as she returned to the task she had firmly put her mind to. That was, until the blond giant moved again, “Luke!”

“Bambi,” Luke echoed lightly, using his nickname for the smaller girl in front of him who looked up at him with an unimpressed facial expression.

“You’re gonna ruin it,” She mumbled lightly, pointing back down at her artwork which Luke only then first looked at. It was safe to say, although he shouldn’t have been, he was thoroughly shocked.

His nails, which his girl had somehow managed to convince him into painting weren’t black, or blue. No, they were bright, blasting, hot pink. He groaned lightly, wondering just how exactly she had managed to rope him into this and just how he was going to hide his nails from the rest of the gang later on tonight when he -they- met up with them tonight.

She was a bundle of both nerves and excitement, finally getting to meet Luke’s closest friends. It had been about a week since their argument, and now she was meeting his friends. It seemed like everything was moving in the right direction, thankfully. She couldn’t wait to be honest, very much looking forward to being able to hear more about Luke from his friends, and just meeting them in general.

They seemed fun.

Well, as fun as gang members could be. She probably should have been more cautious surrounding them, but Luke got her guard down so quickly and she was yet to regret that. How scary could they possibly be considering the man in front of her, soft blond curls held back by her bunny bath headband, nails painted hot pink, was supposed to be the scariest man in the whole city.

“Cal’s gonna rip the piss outta me for this, Bambi,” He complained softly, with no plans to take the polish off of his nails as he looked at his girlfriend, between his legs, small hand wrapped around the bottle of nail polish with her other hand laying against his knee.

She couldn’t help the small upturn of her lips as she blew softly against the nail polish on his fingernails, not patient enough to let it airdry despite it being a fast-drying polish. She shrugged lightly, head flopping to the side adorably as Luke stared down at her, resisting the urge to run his hands through her hair; another issue he had with the wet paint on his fingernails.

“I think it looks great, we’re matching,” She then flaunted the bright pink color that coated her own nails, and Luke’s lips twitched into a grin, careful not to ‘aww’ at the cute words that came out of the smaller girl’s mouth.

He hummed lightly, leaning back against the couch but his baby blues never leaving her face, “They look a lot better on you than they do me, Bambi.”

“I think they’re cute,” The girl climbed onto his lap, making Luke take a deep intake of breath as she sits barely an inch away from a rather sensitive area of his. She, however, seemed to pay no attention to the risen area of his jeans as she leaned against his chest, face hidden in the crook of his neck, soft breaths from her mouth fanning against his neck.

He twisted to give her a small kiss on the forehead, to which she responds by kissing his neck softly, lips staying against his neck as her hand traveled up his stomach up to his neck, holding him close as she began to kiss the base of his neck more.

“Lu,” She whispered softly, “How much time have we got?”

“Like an hour, baby. Why?”

However, the girl never replied verbally, and instead repositioned herself carefully, Luke’s neck void from her warmth before her hand started to travel down, painfully slow, until it landed right above the tent in his jeans. His eyes traveled up to meet hers, eyebrow raised as she dropped her hand down barely, lips struggling to pull the smirk away.

He lifted his hands to her back, going to reposition her before she shook her head, “Your nail polish, Lu. Hands down.”

His hands didn’t move, frozen in place around her clothed waist. His nails were long since dried, she knew that, but she liked this. She liked the intake of breath he took when her hand ghosted over the hardened cock in his jeans, the way he couldn’t lift his hands; scared to smudge the pink on his nails.

He was restricted. Oh, how the tables had turned.

Her hand gently palmed against his hardened, clothed cock, causing a grumble to emit from his throat. It was a deep rumbling sound, -something that the girl had heard numerous times but would never get used to.

To her, everything about Luke was perfect, even his moans.

“Bambi, you know the rules about teasing-”

Her lips attached to his, cutting him off rather efficiently, pressing softly as she continued to palm him through his jeans, gently rocking on his thigh. He moaned into their kiss, her tongue, as a reflex, finding its way into his mouth. Their tongues pressed against one another, lips still pressed together as her spare hand crawled up to the back of his neck, playing with his soft curls.

Her palm pressed into his fully hardened cock now, his tongue swiping over her lips before tugging on it, pulling apart, breathless. His hands found a place on her waist, guiding her softly but firmly, taking back the control he craved.

Looking her straight in the eyes, one of Luke’s hands went around her neck, thumb pulling her lower lip down as he unbuckled his belt with one hand, taking his cock out of its confined clothing and bringing her hand down to hold onto it. It wasn’t the first time that she had given him a handjob, and it wouldn’t be the last, but she still couldn’t help but be nervous.

Despite not being a virgin when she met Luke, she still lacked a lot of experience that Luke definitely had. She knew that he would never judge her, but that never stopped the nerves that festered.

“All shy all of a sudden, Bambi?” He mocked, hand around her neck tightening as he bit down on her ear lobe, gently tugging at it before letting out a breath, “All big and brave, teasing Sir, aren’t you? If you’re going to start it, then you’re going to finish it. On your knees. Now.”

Releasing a shaky breath, the girl clambered out of Luke’s lap dropping to the floor, in a similar position to the one she had been in minutes before, only in a more sexual manner. Her lips met the tip of his cock, tongue lightly swiping across the base.

His hand grabbed firmly onto the hair on the back of her head, holding her steady as she got used to the feeling of his cock in her mouth before thrusting against her. She gagged as it hit the back of her throat, sending vibrations up him, releasing a deep moan from his throat.

“Suck, little girl,” Luke commanded deeply, leaving no room for argument as the smaller girl abided to his command, tongue swiping over him as she reached up to cover the last part of his cock with her hand.

Yet, she didn’t get much further when a ringing sounded through the room, Luke groaning but ultimately pulling away from the girl who stayed on the floor, watching Luke as he grabbed his phone.

“What?” He gritted his teeth lightly, trying to keep his frustration at bay after being interrupted.

He sighed softly, not looking at the small girl with furrowed eyebrows still on the floor as he pulled his jeans back up, clambering to get shoes on and getting ready to leave, hanging the phone up.

“Luke what’s going on?”

“Gang shit, Bambi. I gotta get going, be ready for six, we’re meeting Cal, Ash, and Mike later, remember?” He offered her no more words, but she can tell he isn’t angry at her, just due to their interruption.

However, she can’t help but be frustrated at the interruption, waiting until after Luke leaves to huff and puff about it before starting to get ready.

. . .

“Luke has this old penguin fan account on Instagram from like seven years ago. There’s this one picture on there with him with a penguin hat-”

“Cal, stop,” Luke interrupted Cal swiftly, an arm going around his smaller girlfriend’s waist who looked far too amused by the embarrassing things about Luke that Cal was telling.

“No, no, Calum please keep going. Please,” The girl begged, feeling very comfortable around the Maori boy. They were pleasant, to her at least, and so far they had made her feel very comfortable and very much at home. It was hard to believe that the people joking with her where infamous mobsters, ones that were feared all across the city, and state. 

They had met in Ashton’s house, who she had already met before, at six o’clock. It turns out gang members like to be punctual, or maybe it was only these ones.

Luke was in a bit of a hurry once he arrived back home, with no time to finish what he and his girl had started before he had to leave in a hurry, leaving her oh so frustrated. This was only magnified when she saw him afterward, ready to head to Ash’s in that pale pink silk button-up that only seemed like it would suit him; like it was made specifically for him.

Maybe it was.

Luke was never shy of customized clothing, cars, or anything he wanted honestly. If you have the money, why not? Was always his answer when she asked why he seemed to wear all of these expensive items. If it wasn’t custom-made, it was a high-quality designer that he wore, she rarely ever found him in anything that didn’t smell of cash and high-class, -far too expensive but albeit intoxicating- cologne.

This money of Luke’s also happened to extend to her also. He was never shy of picking her up a few things, letting her have his card for shopping and now, he started going out shopping with her too. He didn’t look like the type that would go out with his ‘girlfriend’ or anyone, but in the case of her, he followed her around like a lost puppy; willing to hold her bags, let her drain his bank account. Not that she did, anyway. She was still mindful, even if Luke had more money than he knew what to do with.

“Nah, can’t. Don’t want Luke to kill me for embarrassing me in front of his precious little girlfriend,” Calum teased lightly, shaking his head as his eyes darted to meet Luke’s baby blues. Truthfully, Luke could pretend to be annoyed at Cal and the rest for exposing his old penguin Instagram account but he was just glad to see them getting along with the girl that owned his heart.

She was the first girlfriend that his best friends seemed to approve of. He didn’t normally bring his girlfriends to meet them, but the ones he did, the boys he called his best friends didn’t usually like them. For the first time, Luke could actually see a future with the girl in front of him, beamingly smiling as Cal and Michael joke about with her and laughing at their attempts of humor.

God, he loved her.

“So, do you think they like me?” She asked the moment they got home, the door shut behind them. Luke turned around, staring at the wide-eyed girl with a small smile on his lips.

Did she seriously not realize how much they liked her? Especially with how much joking that they had done with her, he was certain that she would have realized but then again, she wasn’t the most self-assured person when it comes to new people. He nodded his head, “Yeah, Bambi. They really liked you.”

Luke would never get over the way her eyes sparkled, his smile only growing. She looked amazing in that red silky dress that he had bought her, and he looked just as good in the coral colored button-up he was wearing.

Their lips met softly, Luke bending down slightly to meet her lips as the girl went up on her tiptoes, bare feet on the top of Luke’s shoes. He didn’t mind, in fact, he barely even realized as he swiped his tongue across her bottom lip for access which she quickly gave him. Her hands wrapped around his neck, one entangling in his blond curls, while his went around her waist and one under her ass, lifting her up.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, lips never breaking away from his as she moaned into the kiss. She pushed herself closer to him as the kiss heated up, eyes closed as Luke tried his best to navigate the way to their bedroom. Thankfully, even with his eyes partially closed and completely distracted by the soft lips on his, he managed to get there, fumbling with the doorknob before kicking the door open.

Luke pulled away quickly to get a breath, now at the edge of the bed as his mouth went to the side of her face, pressing kisses along her neck before whispering in a sinfully sultry voice, “Let’s finish what we started earlier, huh?”

With that, she was placed down on the bed, staring at Luke with a glaze in her eyes, lust, lips slightly swollen as he pushed her dress up, nudging her underwear to the side. His fingers ghosted over her pussy, making her take a ragged intake of breath. He was on top of her, watching her as she awaited every movement of his fingers, completely helpless under his touch.

“So wet for me, baby,” He murmured, pressing a few chaste kisses against the base of her neck as he rubbed her slit. She didn’t reply just yet, whining lightly when he slowed down his movements, coming to a stop, “Tell me what you want baby.”

“You, Lu. I want you, sir,” Her words flooded out of her mouth quickly, the aching between her legs becoming too much. If Luke didn’t do something about it soon then she would have to. She stared up at his smirking face above her. His fingers pulled away from her, making her whine as he reached for his belt, skillfully unbuckling it and letting his cock spring free from its confines.

He looked up at her as he repositioned himself, her squirming with need beneath him before he lined his tip at her entrance, baby blues meeting her eyes, “You sure?”

She nodded vigorously in return, but Luke didn’t move, commanding lightly, “Words, baby.”

“Please Luke, I’m sure. Please fuck me.” He swatted her thigh at the sound of the swear falling from her lips but obliged nonetheless, plunging deep into her letting out a moan, her strangled moan following behind.

He plunged in once again, hitting a spot that made her whimper and moan at the same time, hands reaching around to his back, clawing on the now exposed skin. Luke’s hips are flushed against hers as he goes deep inside of her once again, both moaning.

“Fuck, Bambi,”

Luke’s pace quickened, thrusts becoming sloppier as he continued to thrust into her, hitting her sweet spot over and over, moans filling the room with small pleads from her and soft curses from him.

Then a phone went off. Luke froze inside of her, and she groaned, sweaty, a mess, and incredibly sexually frustrated. She could feel Luke sitting inside of her; how big he was. She thought that he was going to ignore the phone call, to continue something that they were robbed of earlier. He wasn’t really going to let them be interrupted twice today, was he?

He reached over to the bedside table, picking his phone up and looking at the caller ID before sighing. He pulled out of her, baby blues looking at her with a frown, “I need to take this.”

“Luke,” It was a plead. For him to stay with her, to let them finish what they started. She shuffled lightly until she was sitting in front of him, on her knees. Her hand went to the side of his face, caressing it gently as she put her face at his neck, “Stay with me, Sir. I need you.”

He knew exactly what she was trying to do, but he wasn’t going to fall for it. He pulled away from her, gripping onto her side as a warning with his free hand, “No, Bambi.”

His voice was low, a warning for her to stop what she was doing as he sent her a pointed look. He didn’t even let her make another move or get another word in before he was back in his jeans and walking out of the room, leaving her alone.

The seconds that she was alone turned into minutes, and those minutes turned into ten, then fifteen. She shifted uncomfortably, still on edge and incredibly frustrated. It didn’t seem like Luke was coming back as he had left without saying goodbye or telling her where he was going to be or how long. Was this all because she had tried to get him to stay?

Well, if he wasn’t going to get back, she would have to take stuff into her own hands. Leaning back, her hand reached her own clit, rubbing desperately, basking in the feeling once again. This time, she would get the job done.

Her fingers slipped inside of her, curling into her, moans softly filtering out of her lips. She was close, her fingers covered in her own slick as she continued to curl her hands into herself, soft pants falling from her lips as she spread her legs more to get a better angle, trying to go deeper.

Her hands would never be as good as Luke’s though, her small fingers not holding a torch to his digits. He knew everything that made her squirm, even better than she did, he had her all decoded, knew how to navigate her better than anyone else ever could.

“Baby I need to get-” Luke opened the door, stopping when his eyes met her figure on the middle of the bed, fingers inside of her as soft breaths fell from her lips. Her head titled back, eyes lidded as he froze on the spot before a smirk made its way onto his face.

“Really?” He asked incredulously, sauntering up to the bed before grabbing onto her wrist, pulling her fingers out of her desperate cunt making her whine. Her eyes met his, which never strayed, even after he brought her hand up to his mouth and swirling his tongue around her slick-covered digits.

“Lu-”

“Quiet,” He shut her up quickly, voice hard and commanding, something that made nerves bundle in her stomach and turned her on even more. He stood up again, sauntering over to the dresser before pulling a belt from the top of it, grabbing her hands and confining them with the thick leather, “Since you can’t keep your hands off of that pretty little pussy of mine, I guess we’re going to have to do something about that.”

Luke pulled her up to the headboard, hooping the leather around there and tightening it. When he let go, she pulled against the leather restraints, only to find her hands unable to move from their position at the headboard.

“So desperate to cum, baby? Well, you’ll be desperate to stop after I make you come over and over until there’s no more cum left in your body and you're writhing beneath me. Do you understand me, baby?”

“Yes Sir,” She whimpered out in return, nodding her head as she breathed heavily, watching Luke’s hand as it trailed teasingly down her side until it reached her pussy, a finger flicking up and down it, making her hips jerk up.

“But first of all, I need to go deal with the drug run. See you later, Bambi.”

And with a smirk on his face, Luke left his girlfriend there, tied up to the bed, whining for him to come back. And he would, and when he did, she wouldn’t be walking for days afterward.

[heli0s-writes]

Clumsy

Summary: Serendipity, it’s the only way Steve can describe it. His ma was right: he’d always been slow.

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader

A/N: Fluff with a tiny sprinkle of Steve angst because I love one sad boi. Written for @wkemeup​​‘s 4K Challenge like an entire year ago!! I’m so sorry, Kas!! The prompt was Bright Eyes’ “First Day of My Life”. 2.8k words.

It was supposed to rain.

Thunderclaps rolled in the distance all morning. Moisture hung heavy in the air and the earth smelled like wet already--- salty, thick, sweet. The app on his phone blinked gray clouds straight across the screen. Seventy-three degrees and a nine-five percent chance of precipitation. Winds NE 20 miles per hour.

But at 2:30 in the afternoon when Steve slides into the car, it’s clear and blue.

So he figures it’s coincidence and poor meteorology when the engine quietly rumbles to life. He fixes the collar of his shirt, checks for hotels around the midway point, and sends an uneasy look to the empty passenger seat.

Then, he makes his way to where you are.

-

The two-lane country road stretches on. Winding and curving, pitch-black and howling with wind and wildlife. Bugs splatter on the windshield and he mechanically sprays a bit of fluid, wiping them off, the squeaks giving his radio a bit of rhythm in all this late-night talk. It’ll be another half hour before he gets to the hotel and he’s still wrestling with himself if he should even break.

No reason to now. He can drive all night. No reason to other than his pride.

“So what is it?”

There’s an imprint in the seat. An outline of a warm body folding soft creases in the leather. Late night talk radio fizzles out, and he’s tired, so he can’t get too upset at his brain for seeing the shape even though it’s been months since anyone’s sat there.

He chances a look over, then quickly back ahead because sure—the sedan is small, but this tiny strip of pavement feels even smaller. Too right and he’ll careen into the woods, too left and if another car’s coming around the bend Steve would roll out alive, but he’d be the only one.

He looks again.

Legs folded. Bare feet. Ankles crossed on the dash. Casually sitting with one hand on your phone and the other one behind your head, face lit incandescent by the screen. It was the first time he’d been alone with you after New York; he remembers this.

You hadn’t even given a glance sideways at him, still fixed on the screen, thumb sliding up and focused on mission details in a perfect picture of indifference.

“Your whole thing. Mister Red-White-and-Broody, most eligible bachelor in all of America—which, by the way, is so far up your ass all fifty states might as well be coming out of your mouth—”

“Stop it.”

“Okay, Rogers.” A smirk. His last name slipping between your lips like military title. “Fine, you’re all gilded in the front, suffering in the back. So—” You turned finally, pulled your feet back and tucked them under your body, “What is it?”

Steve pretended to think, left hand clenching a fraction tighter on the wheel, feeling its strength beneath his grip. His face remained impassive and dedicated forward, turning the seconds in his head, counting down the appropriate time for his reply.

It was a game, certainly. Your assertion, your poise, hand propping up your head—all of it. Your entire being was a foil to one Steven Grant Rogers and he was strapped with you for half a week. Already the car ride was beginning to foreshadow what was quickly seeming to be a long assignment.

“It’s my job—”

“So weak.”

“I’m busy—”

“Are you even trying to lie?”

You were known to do this: lay out a path of questions that only gave your company the pretense of a genuine conversation. You’d lead them like a wrangler leading horses to water, knowing they wouldn’t drink, but giving them just enough time to stare at their own reflection in the pool before you’d yank the harness elsewhere.

It was always a short path, but what you lacked in subtlety you made up for with honesty.

Agitated, Steve snapped before he could rein himself back in.

“What are you, my psychologist?” Horse.

“You don’t have one. You are the only Avengers Tower resident who has run off every psychologist on Stark’s payroll. So--” a twist of your torso, your back pressed up against the door handle as you stared at the outline of his side profile. Wrangler.

The question dangled in front of his gritted teeth. The answer he’d known long ago was behind two perfect calcium rows, pressed up, trying to find its way through the cracks.

What’s your thing? We fought together. We live together. We suffered a cataclysmic event in the form of aliens together---so why doesn’t anybody know you?

You leaned forward, body tilting until it almost touched your former footrest. Your head sloped to find his face and when he flicked his eyes sharply to yours, Steve knew it wasn’t sharp enough.

“You don’t want to be vulnerable.”

You’d led him through the brief route of your inquisition and had seen all you cared to see. Your voice bounced off the window when you closed your eyes and turned away.

“Steve,” you sighed, mouth going to the side in a smile. “Vulnerability is clumsy, but it’s the only thing worth anything.”

He had thought: No, it isn’t. He’d spent too long being vulnerable already, and he couldn’t afford it again. Twenty years of a miserable half-life and seventy years of sleep and suddenly the world was new and different and strange. Coming back into his body was new and different and strange but it was the body that afforded him invulnerability.

Mostly, anyway.

Steve decided, then, at least he could make up for that lump of mortality—that lump of weakness—with performance.

So, he became the blacksmith to his feeble Brooklyn boy heart. Forged carbon steel, gold-plated, immaculately polished like his own shield at press conferences. Smoothed himself into a monumental display of impeccable posturing and hid the boy away where no one could reach him. Let him go back to sleep, too. Frozen in a time long passed, long forgotten.

He wasn’t Steve Rogers anymore because no one knew Steve Rogers anymore; it was the only way he could carry on. Didn’t you know?

No, he supposed, you didn’t.

On the ride back you surrendered yourself to the backseat, laying down in the most comfortable position the sedan would allow, and chatted his ear off the entire ride home. Called him Steve and looked at him through the rearview mirror. Eyes met eyes, and yours crinkled at the edges with some secret knowledge.

By the end of it, all he could think about was how he didn’t mind the conversation and that his first name even sounded a little nice coming out of your mouth.

You shimmer in the passenger side until your hair hangs a little longer. His brown leather jacket is around your shoulders. A stretch of your arms. A stretch of your lips. Months passed and Rogers befell the man you knew during the Manhattan Crisis while he became Steve.

Steve on missions and in the field—On your six, Steve! Keep up, old boy. Steve at the tower and Steve in the gym— don’t touch my weights, Steve, you’ll throw your back out.

Steve getting the door and pouring the whiskey and letting you wear his jacket when you were cold. Finding you across rooms at parties because there was an easiness to your presence that calmed the crowd. Shooting pool and watching movies. Up late and out late and laughing until the early hours.

He was Steve, your friend, because he finally allowed himself to have a friend.

You change. Shimmer again until your hair is pulled back from your swollen face. A hospital gown crinkled around your shoulders. Asleep, cold. Too close to death, too close to him. He couldn’t even sit by your bedside, only standing by the door, shuffling from one wall to the other and watched the monitors with a too-loud and static-filled brain.

He was hesitantly Steve when you stepped too close to him on the balcony nights later, hand precariously hovering over that fragile boy heart, finally pressing down on it, feeling his delicate pulse thawing and crawling towards you. Tipsy smile and you tasted like whiskey and easy joy.

The kiss was clumsy, like you’d said. Vulnerability threw him back to the 40’s, all gangly limbed and ill, his lungs malfunctioning, his breath smothered in his mouth. He stumbled, but the banister held him up.

You didn’t mind that his knees felt boneless. You chalked it up to too much drink, but the touch of your still-bruised cheek abruptly burned down his throat—warm and smooth and cataclysmic until he caught sight of the way you winced as his hand cupped your tender face. Steve stepped back, then, and apologized for what he said should have never happened.

There was a small quiver from your shoulder before you quietly went back inside.

He cursed himself on the balcony. Cursed letting it all happen in the first place. Captain Rogers watched your retreating steps, burying the spark and the fire. And the boy must have cried in his ice-block coffin when he buried him again, too.

“Don’t look at me like that.” God, he’s going crazy. Poor night-vision and an addled brain causing him to scold an empty seat. “You stopped talking to me.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightens the way it does when you’re too deep in his head and he can’t get you out. Days without hearing from you smeared together in careful steps of a cagey dance. Comments always presented as half-truths—riddles he struggled to deconstruct. Breadcrumbs never leaving enough of a trail to lead him anywhere. He wants the harness back. Wants back your confident hand.

“You could have said something.” Steve scoffs, because you always had something to say. “Anything. You could have said anything. We were—friends.”

And hell, doesn’t that sound stupid out loud? Maybe it’s best that he’s got nothing but infinity beyond the sedan’s glaring brights and a million thoughts of unsaid words. It’s all useless, anyway. Best that he can get it all out now, talking to your ghost. It keeps all his thoughts in his head and keeps him from yelling every time he sees you not-looking, not-smiling, not-talking to him.

Steve flicks the wipers on again. Shuts off the radio. Shuts off the navigation. Takes the car off cruise-control to give himself something to do. He’ll stop overnight, after all.

Suddenly then, in the distance, two glowing eyes greet him steadily. Measured paces, in a firm and crisp trajectory, growing closer and closer. Glaring and vivid, beating the monotonous grind of nighttime out of him. His pinky moves, and his high beams flip to low beams, white giving way to yellow and the glistening road signs and tree-shadows in the distance slowly diminish.

Bleached spectral glaring of leaves and road signs soften ochre and brown, indigo dark. For a fleeting moment, even Steve’s enhanced eyes feel half-blind again as he readjusts to the pitch-black night barely lit. The car coming toward him does the same, highs blinking low and they pass each other in quiet understanding. In blind trust on the dark road, dependent on each other’s good faith to see it through.

He thinks of Sarah Rogers in a tiny Brooklyn kitchen, floral wallpaper yellowed and peeling behind her. One hand on an apron-clad hip, cooking interrupted by her son stumbling in dripping blood down his shirt, her other hand clenched around a wet kitchen rag.

“Steven Grant Rogers! Oh—wretched! What else can I say,” she’d sigh as she pressed it to his nose, “You do whatever you please, anyhow. You just put this on your face—and don’t think it’ll get you out of doing the dishes, either.”

“But—” he’d attempt.

She’d put up her hand, “Lord have mercy on any young woman that’ll have you. May she have your poor mother’s patient heart.”

His ma always called him slow. A dolt through and through. Quick to temper, but laborious to do much else. Common sense always took its sweet time-- took the long path home to get to Steve Rogers. In seventy-odd years, he hasn’t changed.

Better than coincidence and better than poor meteorology. Serendipity. It’s the only way he can describe it.

Like finding a crumpled up twenty in his pocket—or in his case, a five—enough then for a week’s worth of meals. Like having that nightmare— the one right before the plane crashes and instead of going down with it, he wakes up. Like expecting to drive five hours through a storm and stopping overnight, but instead it’s clear and blue as far as he can see.

The rush, the relief, the deafening joy that shuts everything else up and out.

Sarah Rogers was right: he’d always been slow.

So he careens back onto the highway from the service road, steadying his foot on the pedal and flies about fifteen miles faster than the speed limit says he should. The car is vibrating to a thrilled beat inside his chest. Steve can’t help smiling.

-

It was supposed to rain. All the way to the next mid-morning but the sky parts a brilliant orange sunrise and he nearly sprints to the door. He doesn’t wait for it to open all the way before he barrels in. A sliver of parting wood is enough, and Steve throws it wide with his enormous shoulders, kicking it shut firmly with his boot.

The imprint of your body on the couch is still warm—you, halfway across the room in alarm—real and even warmer when Steve gathers you into his arms. He’s been awake for over 24 hours, talking to himself, talking to your hallucination, so he apologizes when his teeth click against yours in a frantic kiss.

“Rogers--!”

You pull away, dazed, a little bit pissed off, but you cow the swirl of emotions into professionalism. “What are you—you’re not supposed to be here until late—did you drive through--”

“Steve,” he interrupts, “Steve.”

He’s so tired of the long road. Can’t stand another second of maneuvering in the dark down winding paths or broken streetlight avenues you’re not at the end of so he keeps his next phrase short: “I really like you.”

You raise your brow and brush the back of your knuckles over your lips, the light from the balcony streaming over your face. His hand tenderly brushes your cheek, the same one he touched all those months ago and you blink in surprise. Quick, calculating movements even as you lean gently into his touch.

“Steve…” you say slowly before your mouth pinches together in a poor attempt to hide the smirk threatening to surface. “You drove all night to… ask me to call you Steve.”

“Well,” he shrugs, “And the mission.”

“Right, the mission. The debrief didn’t mention that it required a lot of… kissing.”

“It came up recently; I haven’t adjusted the file yet.” He grins at your rolling eyes, your swollen lips peeling back to reveal a joyful display of teeth at his stubborn defiance.

“Took you long enough,” you mumble.

You place your hand over his chest, over his heart.

You kiss him and Steve hears himself sighing into your mouth. His cheeks flush with embarrassment, but you’re not letting go, and he presses his lips to yours a little slower, a little firmer, learning the ways you like to feel him there.

“Steve,” you breathe, and it paints him in the most galvanized care. “Steve,” you say again, and his eyes slip shut, like he’s being laid to rest. And maybe he is. Finally weary of lugging around all his armor, all his pretense.  

The boy emerges, thawing toward his name held sweetly in your mouth.

He fumbles with his awkward limbs—a newly birthed foal trying to find its footing—but you’re patient and enduring. He takes in his trembling body—knobby knees and gangly elbows. Inept gait still learning how to be. He takes the sights—white casting over the balcony. You, even brighter.

It was supposed to rain, but you link your fingers through his, leading him toward the open doors, smiling against a backdrop of sherbet swirls. He stumbles, but you’ve got him. A few short steps, just a few more, and Steve kisses you again in the sunbathed daybreak, resurrected and anew.

[troquantary]

Edward Cullen: That Boy Ain’t Right

So I was doing a reread of @therealvinelle 's collection of Twilight metas, as one does, and in "Edward, Denial, and a Human Girlfriend" she mentions that she doesn't believe Edward is sane. I thought, "ha, yeah, he's definitely not," and also, "but wait, what does that mean exactly, please say more about that." But since she's already inundated with asks, I've decided to use my own head-muscle and explore this idea. (TL;DR: I start out more or less organized, synthesize some points Vinelle has made across several posts (and have hopefully linked to them all where relevant but please tell me if not), touch a little on narcissism, then take a hard left into the negative effects of being a telepath.)

Just a couple things to note at the outset, though. Theses have been written already (probably) about Edward as an abuser. Edward being insane doesn't negate that at all; he's definitely an asshole and just...a disaster of a human being. (I find it more funny than anything, but YMMV.) I'm also going to try to avoid talking specifically about mental illness and how it relates (or doesn't relate) to abusive behavior -- that's territory I'm not really equipped to discuss, like at all. My starting point is "Edward has a deeply warped perception of reality," not "Edward has X disorder."

So: deeply warped perception of reality. The evidence? Goes behind a cut, because my one character trait is Verbose.

Vinelle provides a great example of it in the post linked above, which I'll just quote because she does words good: "[Edward] keeps acting like his romance with Bella is a romantic tragedy, and all the cast of Twilight are actors on a stage making it as sublime as possible." Edward's the one to pursue Bella, but he does so with the full belief, from the very beginning, that it will never last; Bella will "outgrow" him, go on her human way, and he can spend the rest of eternity brooding magnificently over his too-short romantic bliss. [Insert premature ejaculation joke.] Turning her is never an option, even though Alice, Noted Psychic, says that romancing Bella will either end with her dead (exsanguinated) or dead (vampire).

This framing, where he's a dark anti-hero in love with -- but never tainting! -- the pure maiden and eventually leaving her in a grand, tragic sacrifice to preserve her soul? It's fucking bonkers. Bella isn't a person to him in this scenario. As Vinelle points out, Bella's never really a person to him at all; he falls in love with his own mental construct, cherry-picking from what he observes of her behavior and her responses to his 20 (thousand) Questions to convince himself that she is the ideal woman.

Bella's not the only one who gets the projection/cardboard-cutout treatment. Edward sees everything and everyone through a highly particular, personalized lens. He filters his entire reality, which we all do to an extent, but the thing with Edward is that he starts with his conclusions and then only pays attention to the evidence that supports those conclusions. Often that evidence consists of what he admits in New Moon are only "surface" thoughts -- but recognizing that limitation doesn't keep him from taking those thoughts as representative of what people are. Edward then becomes absolutely convinced by his own "reasoning" and won't be swayed from what he has decided is Objectively True. It's obvious with Bella; it's also painfully obvious with Rosalie. (Vinelle explains this and brings up Edward's raging Madonna/Whore complex in the same post, so refer to that again -- she's right.)

He also catastrophizes. Everything. Bella's just vibing in her room, rereading Wuthering Heights for the 87th time? She's gonna be hit by a meteor, better sneak into her room while she sleeps. Bella's going to the beach with the filthy mundanes their human classmates? She's gonna fall in the ocean. Jasper's cannibal pals are stopping by for a visit, but know not to hunt in the area? DISASTER, DEFCON 1, ALSO FUCK YOU JASPER FOR EVEN EXISTING IN MY AND BELLA'S SPHERE YOU UNSPEAKABLE BURDEN. Edward must believe that Bella is vulnerable and in near-constant peril, to support the reality he has created in which he is the villain turned protector and maybe?? hero??? (!!!) for his beloved. So when the actual, James-shaped danger arrives, he goes berserk, snarling and flipping his shit and generally not helping the situation. His fantasy demands that Bella remain human, so instead of doing the very thing Alice, Noted Psychic, assures him will neutralize the threat (and not just a threat to Bella, either, but to Bella's family and any other human James might decide to include in the "game"), he vetoes it immediately, no discussion. Bella Must Not Turn, and he sticks to those guns despite James nearly reducing her to ground beef, despite leaving Bella catatonic with depression (but human! success!) in New Moon, despite Aro's order and his family's vote and, let's not forget, Bella's clearly and repeatedly stated desire to be a vampire. It's going to happen. But he doesn't accept it until Renesmee busts out of Bella like the Kool-Aid man and the poor girl's heart finally, unequivocally stops.

Sane people don't behave this way. I don't want to slap labels on Edward, but I can't help but note that he comes across as highly narcissistic. He's the only real person in his universe, the lone player among us NPCs. That probably has a lot to do with him being frozen in the mindset and maturity of a seventeen-year-old boy, but I think it's also just...him, on some fundamental level. His failure to connect with others and recognize them as full, independent beings with their own wants and priorities isn't like Bella's failure -- she's badly depressed. Edward is...something else, and I get the sense that his sanity has been steadily deteriorating over time. And a cursory google of narcissistic traits turns up some familiar-looking stuff. He's self-loathing, yes, but also grandiose; he hates himself for the monster he is (and hates most vampires besides Esme and Carlisle for their monstrosity, too) but still feels superior to humans, to the extent that he felt entitled to human blood and resented Carlisle for depriving him of his "proper" diet. He eventually returns to Carlisle, but he's far from content -- the beginning of Midnight Sun finds him in a state of ennui, bored and dismissive of (if not outright disgusted by) everyone around him, that has apparently persisted for years and years. He doesn't play the piano, he doesn't compose, he doesn't enjoy anything...at least until Bella comes along and then he becomes obsessed to a disturbing degree with her and his new, romantic tragedy spin on reality.

[Next-day edit: I’m not sure where else to fit this in, but the way Edward casually contemplates violence against people who have, at best, mildly annoyed him is...chilling. I have a hard time writing off his strategizing how to murder the entire Biology class as a result of bloodlust -- it’s so calculated, nothing like the blackout state of thirst Emmett describes when he encountered his own “singer,” and that is probably the default for when a vampire is extremely thirsty. But even ignoring the Biology class incident, Edward still does things like consider, with disturbing frequency, how he might grievously injure or kill Mike Newton, all because...Edward considers him his romantic rival (despite Bella barely giving the kid the time of day). He thinks about slapping Mike through a wall, which might be an amusing slapstick image, except as a vampire Edward’s actually capable of turning this boy’s skeleton to a fine powder. So it’s, y’know, kind of sick when you think about it.

But even worse than that, when Bella tells Edward about how she flirted with Jacob to get at that sweet, sweet vampire lore, Edward chuckles and then, after dropping Bella home, flippantly observes that now that the treaty’s broken, why not genocide? I’m not even kidding, it’s right there in Midnight Sun; he seriously thinks about the fact that he’d be technically justified now in wiping out the entire tribe because a teenager tried to impress a girl with a spooky story. That is fucked. Remember, Edward was there with Carlisle when the treaty was first established. He knows how remarkable it is that they even came to a truce in the first place, that it was only ever possible because Carlisle is...well, Carlisle, and that it marks a pretty significant moment in supernatural history. He doesn’t care; he doesn’t respect it, or he’d never think something like “Ha ha, if I went and killed them all, I wouldn’t even be wrong. I mean, I won’t do it, but I’m just saying, I wouldn’t be wrong.”

Again: not the thought process or behavior of a sane person. (Or a person that respects life in general -- sorry Carlisle, big L.)]

Finally, whether he's a narcissist or not, I think the fact that Edward has constant, unavoidable access to everyone's thoughts is a powerful contributing factor to his instability. He can tune out the mental noise to an extent, but he can't stop it -- so he comes to rely on it like another sense. This causes issues with disconnect and lack of empathy, of course, but there's another facet to this shit diamond: he's basically experiencing a ceaseless flow of intrusive thoughts. His narration in Midnight Sun suggests that he "hears" the words people think, can "see" what they visualize in their mind's eye, and can sense the emotional "tone" and intensity of their thoughts. Therefore, perceiving Jasper's thirst through his thoughts makes Edward more aware of his own, "doubling" the discomfort. This would be a lot to deal with even from just his immediate coven members, but Edward gets all of this pouring into his head like a firehose on a day-to-day basis because the Cullens live right alongside humans. I know Meyerpires have galaxy brains or whatever, but that's a ton to process.

Besides the compounding effect on his own thirst when he "feels" the thirst of others, Meyer never suggests that Edward has difficulty separating his own thoughts from other people's; even when he was newly turned, he recognized Carlisle's "voice" in his head as Carlisle's. That would create a whole different host of issues around identity, but it looks like Edward's escaped that particular torment. However, I can easily imagine that what he does experience is just shy of unbearable nonetheless, with an eroding effect on his sanity over decades. He can't sleep to escape it; he's on a dishwater diet and probably (like the rest of his family) experiencing a perpetual, low-grade physical discomfort due to his thirst never being fully satisfied; and he's around far more people than is the norm for vampires -- even discounting all the humans, his own coven is unusually large -- meaning more noise.

Honestly, it would be weirder if he were all there, considering.

And even though I feel like I lost a sense of structure around where I started ranting about telepathy, I've written like 1.5k words about Edward fucking Cullen and I think that's enough for one post.

[spencers-renaissance]

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy

Summary: Spencer's gay. He joins the BAU and befriends the team, but it is 2003. It's a secret he has to keep. He just didn't expect it to be this hard.

Tags: gay!spencer, coming out, hurt/comfort, insecure!spencer, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, dad hotch, protective!hotch, protective!derek, childhood trauma TW: one instance of explicit homophobia, but it is referenced a lot, as is Spencer's internalised homophobia at the start of this fic. A shit ton of heteronormativity but tbh that's just canon lol

Pairing: Spencer Reid/OMC, Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid & Aaron Hotchner, The BAU Team & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Consider this my contribution to pride month 😌 I've waited so long to post it and I'm so glad I'm finally doing it because it's definitely one of my all time favourites <3 Gideon is here somewhere but just like with all my early season fics he's not really part of the plot I combined my moreid and gen taglists bc it was hard to know the audience for this, but just ignore it if you're not interested!

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you didn’t do, because you are weak and hollow and it doesn’t matter anymore. — richard siken, a primer for the small weird loves

Spencer has only told one person in his whole life.

His mother guessed. For as long as he can remember, she’s used gender neutral pronouns when talking about his future partner, read him all the gay literature she could find, promised him that he’s perfect just the way he is.

The trouble is that Spencer only believes her until the first grade, when Ryan Sampson shoves him over in the playground and calls him gay. His mom had only ever used that term in a sweet, loving way, taking care to associate such words with positivity, as long as his dad wasn’t around to hear. When that word comes out of Ryan Sampson’s mouth, it is not said with sweetness and love; it is said with venom, and Spencer learns quickly that his mom is wrong. He is not perfect just the way he is.

And so, he keeps it a secret. When his mom notices him getting uncomfortable at the mention of future partners, she stops bringing it up, though she refuses to give up the diverse education she provides for him outside of school. His dad tells him that one day he’ll be a strapping young man and marry a nice girl in a church, and Spencer nods along. He ignores the way his stomach turns with anxiety at the thought. Ignores the screaming match his parents have that night. Ignores the fact that it started because Diana chipped in with ‘or boy’.

He’s in high school by the time he’s twelve, and the only part he’s grateful for is the absence of pressure to get a girlfriend. His dad’s out of the picture now, and Spencer tries not to let himself think that maybe if he wasn’t like this he might have stayed. Diana’s so out of it most days that she doesn’t remember what she noticed about him when he was a child, only recalling the last few years of shoving himself so far back in the closet he can hardly see the door anymore.

It feels like he’s lost his last ally.

(He hates that a small part of him feels relieved she doesn’t remember; that he almost feels assured by the fact that the last person to know who he really is has forgotten. There is only this version of Spencer Reid now. No other exists.)

He makes the mistake during his second undergraduate degree. He’s just turned eighteen but he is already a doctor and, fortunately, this alienates him from most of his peers, but someone manages to slide past his defences. Ethan Miller is twenty, in the second year of his (first) undergraduate degree in Chemical Engineering, and he’s nice. Spencer doesn’t have a lot of experience with friendship, but they get on well and Ethan makes him laugh. For the first time, he feels comfortable in the presence of anyone other than his mother.

They slip into an easy friendship: waiting for each other after class — Spencer back in the undergraduate buildings now he has his first PhD under his belt — and going out for ice cream and pizza and Thai food. Ethan goes to parties while Spencer studies, and then they reconvene to watch Doctor Who and play cards.

For almost a year, Spencer keeps his secret carefully locked up, hidden behind the mask he’s perfected after so many years. Even though he’s eighteen, nearly nineteen now, he doesn’t try and explore that side of himself. No, that’s far too risky. He doesn’t try and pretend any other way either, he just stays silent and lets people’s assumptions lie for him, but he can’t help the longing that claws up his throat when he locks eyes with a passing guy on campus. One time, he’d seen two men kiss on a bench in the city, and he’d run back to his dorm and had a panic attack. Why couldn’t he have that?

The feelings don’t stop, and he doesn’t know how to make them. He hates that he isn’t normal, but still longs for the touch of a man, the feeling of being wrapped up in strong arms, of being kissed by dry, chapped lips, and falling asleep to a heartbeat approximately 11% slower than that of a woman’s.

It’s a constant battle inside him, emotions raging, and he struggles to control it, suppress it, tame it.

He pays a sorry price.

Ethan makes him feel comfortable, and that turns out to be a detriment. He relaxes around the other boy: he tells him about growing up as a pre-teen in a high school, about how a child feels living 260 miles away from home, even about his mother’s illness.

And one day, it slips out. They’re on the beach, lying on towels as they look up at the blue sky, talking about what their futures will look like: Ethan will be a successful chemical engineer in Berlin, and Spencer will work for the FBI, profiling serial killers.

“You’ll have to marry a German girl,” he tells Ethan. “It’ll be tough to convince an American girl to move all the way to Germany as soon as you graduate.”

“Yeah, and what about you? You’ll be off fighting crime around the country, not much of a life for a family.”

“Oh, I imagine my husband will be the type to—”

“Husband?”

Spencer freezes. It shocks him as much as it shocks Ethan. He doesn’t even pay much attention to Ethan’s disgusted face and his outraged tirade. He hears slurs and insults, hears him say that he can’t believe Spencer tricked him like this, that he was probably waiting to make a move on him, that he was never to look in Ethan’s direction again, but Spencer is frozen in time.

He’s never allowed him to think much about what his personal life might look like in the future, but he’d said ‘husband’ on instinct, without thinking, and it’s clearly something he actually wants. Ethan’s words sting, but the moment brings about a realisation Spencer is thankful for; it instigates a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, of the joy of living as your true self.

He loses his first and only friend, but he gains something much more valuable. He visits gay bars — nervously sipping a non-alcoholic drink in the corner at first, before soon becoming confident enough to respond to the men who sidle up to him and ask for his name. He lets go and dances the night away, sometimes going home with one of the many dance partners he acquires during the night, sometimes heading back to his own dorm happily alone.

Makeup and dresses and skirts and heels make their way into his wardrobe, and he befriends girls and drag queens and other gay men who encourage him to be exactly the way he is. And the best part is, he never has to come out to any of them. All of them know, and that’s good enough for everyone.

The fun comes to a sad sort of slow, however, when he joins the BAU. Everyone knows law enforcement’s relationship with the LGBT community is less than adequate — Spencer’s seen it with his own eyes: butch lesbians and men in dresses getting roughed up by angry police officers for ‘lewd behaviour’ or ‘drunkenness’ when they’re just being themselves. It’s not safe for him to tell anyone, so he doesn’t.

He still goes out with his friends when he’s in town and wears makeup and dresses and crop tops when he’s at home, but presents as rigidly straight Dr Spencer Reid to his team at the BAU.

The hardest part about it is that he loves his team. He’s known Gideon for years — and he wouldn’t be surprised if he suspects something after coming over to his house unannounced one night, only to have a man other than Spencer open the door — but he settles into a comforting dynamic with Hotch. He can’t help but see him as something of a father figure, and he knows Hotch has a soft spot for him, always looking out for him and taking him under his wing without a moment’s hesitation.

Elle, JJ, and Penelope all take a shine to him, too, teasing him without a hint of malice in their tones, only the kind of playful kindness that reminds him of his mother. He forms a special bond with Penelope and they spend hours watching Doctor Who together and geeking out on all the areas their interests overlap, and the comfort he feels with her matches the comfort he’s found with his new group of queer friends.

(She doesn’t hold a candle to Ethan, he decides one night, after he’d cried at a movie she’d made him watch and she felt so bad she made him hot chocolate and jam toast and cuddled him until he felt better.)

Derek becomes a brother to him. He puts him in a headlock at least once a day — which Spencer has been reliably informed by multiple sources is a very brotherly thing to do — and teases him relentlessly, while simultaneously being fiercely protective of him. Enough so, that Spencer sometimes wonders if he even has Hotch beat in that department.

He loves his team and his team loves him. It should be simple. It is still 2003.

He comes in one morning late for a briefing, his shirt buttoned wrong and his hair is a mess, and he’s fairly sure that his attempt to cover the hickey at the base of his neck with concealer has been ultimately unsuccessful. It’s obvious why he’s late. Gideon is too engrossed in the case file to notice, but Hotch raises an eyebrow, an amused look on his face as everyone else immediately takes to teasing him.

“Who’s the lucky lady, pretty boy?”

Elle raises an eyebrow to match Derek’s shit-eating grin, “Someone definitely got some strange last night.”

“When do we get to meet her, Spence?” JJ asks, smirking as he takes a seat.

He’s bright red — as if he needed to look any more debauched — and Spencer tries to ignore the hurt that seizes his chest at the reminder of his need to stay quiet. This team respects him, and he can’t throw that away just because Spencer gets too comfortable.

God, he wishes Penelope was here.

“None of your business,” he mutters, trying to keep his tone light. He fails.

Naturally, Hotch notices and swiftly moves the briefing on, and Spencer keeps his gaze locked on the case file, not missing the absence of a reprimand from his superior. He’s constantly thankful for the older man, but in this moment, he wishes he could hug him.

(A voice that sounds dangerously close to Ethan’s rises up and taunts him in his ear: he wouldn’t want a dirty homo like you anywhere near him—)

Derek doesn’t let up on the case, continuing to bug him about the special lady in his life. He does concede that it could’ve been a one night stand, which is one front he’s right on, but a couple more concessions are necessary before Derek comes close to the truth of last night.

Eventually, Derek stops, and Spencer notes that the cessation of comments comes suspiciously close to the last time Derek and Hotch were alone together. He doesn’t have it in him to feel angry at Hotch for stepping in when he had it handled; doesn’t have the energy to act as though his pride is wounded, because really, neither of those things are true, and he doesn’t need to add another item to ‘Spencer Reid’s List of Things He Pretends to Be.’

The situation is forgotten, and time moves on.

Things change when he finds his first proper boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the giddying rush of emotions it turns out to be, and Spencer spends his days smiling as he daydreams his time away.

His name is Oscar Wilkins, a History professor at Georgetown University, and Spencer falls quickly in love with him. Ever since their mutual friend had introduced them at a gay bar one evening, they’d spent all their free time together. He’s kind and gentle and understanding of Spencer’s hectic and unpredictable job, and he finally has the chance to experience everything he quietly and shamefully longed for as a teenager.

The only downside is the silent breaking of Spencer’s heart that the most important people in his life can’t meet his boyfriend. He longs to show Oscar off, to hold hands in front of his team, lean up to press a tender kiss to Oscar’s lips. He wants to put a framed picture of the two of them at the Washington Monument on his desk to remind him of why he needs to get through the hard days; he doesn’t want to have to sneak out of the hotel room he shares with Derek to whisper hushed, loving goodnights over the phone.

But he’s too scared. Too cowardly.

It’s different being who he is with his gay group of friends littered with wlws and drag queens and other gay and bisexual guys. They understand.

But Derek and Hotch are two extremely masculine, alpha men: Derek’s a ladies’ man and Hotch is married to a woman he met in college with a baby on the way and both have a strong and dominant energy that still sometimes manages to intimidate Spencer even after all these years. And Elle and JJ are lovely — some of his closest friends, really — but sometimes they remind him a little too much of the mean girls he went to high school with.

The hardest person to keep his secret from, though, is Penelope. She’s his best friend and he desperately wants to give her all of him, but he’s so scared. He’s lost a best friend to this secret before, and even though he’s certain she’d be fine with it, what if she accidentally let it slip to Derek? What if Hotch found out and didn’t see him in the same light anymore? What if the girls started teasing him? What if Gideon didn’t want to mentor him anymore?

The fear paralyses him. And it’s a cycle he doesn’t know how to break.

Fear, though, doesn't stop everyone from noticing his daydreaming, his dopey smile when he checks his messages, his urgency to get home where he would’ve stayed until the small hours of the morning before. As excellent as he is at hiding his sexuality, he’s fucking terrible at hiding the fact that he’s in love: it was easy enough to pretend he was straight, but hiding something this all-consuming is an impossible ask.

Derek comes over to perch on the edge of his desk one afternoon, sighing as he sits down. “Pretty boy, this is getting ridiculous,” he says, snatching Spencer’s attention away from his phone. “You’ve been grinning like an idiot for the last twenty minutes as you’ve texted Future Mrs Reid. When are we going to meet her?”

(He hates the new nickname the team has given his mystery significant other, although Oscar had found it hilarious. “It’s funny because when we get married, we’ll hardly be able to tell,” he’d argued through his laughter. “Neither of us will change our name because of our academic profiles, and we’ll both still be ‘Dr’. Our wedding rings will be the only indicator.”

Spencer hadn’t argued back, because he’d been too tongue-tied and flushed pink at Oscar’s use of ‘when’ in regards to their hypothetical nuptials. It was only made bearable by Oscar kissing him gently and tucking him under his arm, not embarrassing him any further as Spencer had sort of anticipated, warmth settling over his chest at the thought of their future together.)

“You won’t,” he replies, perhaps a little too curtly.

Derek starts at that, clearly not expecting it. He definitely should’ve tried to play it off as a joke. “What— should I be offended, pretty boy?”

You wouldn’t call me that if you knew who I really am.

“That’s up to you, Derek,” he says calmly, although he still can’t meet his eyes, “but you won’t meet the ‘Future Mrs Reid, so I think it would probably be best if you left it alone.”

“Damn,” Derek mutters under his breath, clearly pissed off and probably more hurt than Spencer ever intended. “Suit yourself.”

And with that, he gets up and leaves his desk. Spencer’s only solace is the text message he sees on his phone when he picks it back up: I love you so much. You know that, right?

The light-hearted ridicule comes to an abrupt halt after the incident with Derek, and it’s clear that he had been the biggest contributor to the teasing. He’s thankful that the jokes have stopped, but he wishes desperately that it didn’t come with the growing distance between him and his team. Loneliness takes the place of his previous irritated anxiety, and he isn’t sure what’s worse.

It all comes to a head at the end of a case in Michigan. They’re stuck in the lounge of the small inn they’d stayed in the last few days, a snowstorm having blocked them in and grounded the jet, although Gideon had long since retreated to his room. The fire’s going and they’re the only guests around, so it’s cosy enough, but Spencer can’t help but feel sick at the idea of another night away from home.

It’s only been two weeks since he’d snapped at Derek, but the chasm between him and the team is only widening with each passing day. He knows it’s not a case of ‘pick a side’, but the team’s morale relies on light-hearted banter and teasing, and him not being a part of that anymore has only brewed awkwardness. Everyone’s trying to give him space when space is the last thing he wants.

Oscar’s keeping him company over the phone at least, but it’s not quite enough to quell the loneliness swimming around his stomach, and the 'discrete' sideways looks he gets from the team only make him feel worse.

“At least it’s nice and toasty in here,” JJ sighs as she takes a sip of the hot chocolate the kindly inn owner had made for them all.

Elle hums in agreement. “There are worse places to be grounded.”

“I dunno, man, I just wanna get home,” Derek says, not taking his eyes off the fire. Spencer can’t help but agree.

“Oh, come on,” Hotch muses, considerably more jovial now the case is over, “we’re here, and that’s not going to change any time soon. We should make the most of it.”

“It’s at least nice to be somewhere sort-of Christmassy now it’s December,” Elle points out. “We could be stuck in a dingy police station like we probably will be next week.”

“Ooh, I noticed that Jemimah and Kiran started planning the Christmas party last week,” JJ says, smiling at them. “I offered my help, but they seem to have it covered.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow“That’s probably a good thing. You don’t need more work on your plate.”

“Not gonna argue with that,” she murmurs, smiling as she brings her mug to her lips again.

Spencer doesn’t miss that Derek is still stewing on the opposite side of the room.

“Are you looking forward to the Christmas party, Spencer? Will you come?” Hotch asks, clearly trying to rope him into the conversation, which he appreciates. He’s been making a lot of effort with him the past few weeks, and it’s just about the only thing that’s getting him through each day.

Before he can reply, though, Derek erupts from the other side of the room; an already pissed-off man being pushed over the edge. “He won’t even let us meet his fucking girlfriend, Hotch, he’s not gonna want to come to the Christmas party!” he yells, throwing his hands in the air as he glares at Spencer with a stormy expression raging across his face.

Suddenly, Spencer can’t stay silent anymore, and his retort shocks himself just as much as it does everyone else. “I don’t have a girlfriend!”

It might be the loudest he’s ever shouted in his whole life. He’s always been quiet and restrained, the type to state his feelings as calmly as possible no matter how he’s feeling on the inside. Even in the biggest fight he’s had with Oscar, his voice was barely loud enough to qualify as a shout.

There’s a brief stunned silence, but Derek quickly slices his way through it, voice raising to meet Spencer’s fiery emotion, fierce and loud. “Oh, don’t even go there, Reid, you’re really gonna try and argue that? You’re gonna lie about her as well as not let us meet her? What a boyfriend you are.”

“I don’t! I don’t have a girlfriend!” he repeats, voice catching this time as tears rise unbidden to the backs of his eyes and all the emotions of the journey he’s taken with his sexuality over the years flood him in a wave of intensity he’s not prepared for.

“You’re fucking lying—!”

“I have a boyfriend!” he yells. “Alright? I have a boyfriend. I’m gay.”

The anger and emotion quickly dissipates, and he’s left standing alone in front of the team he’s put so much effort into hiding this from, watching shock spell out across everyone’s expressions. He’s never felt smaller than he does in that moment, and he quickly grabs his phone before running upstairs to his room, locking the door behind him.

“Oh God, Oscar, I fucked up so bad,” he cries over the phone as soon as his boyfriend picks up.

“Hey, hey, breathe, baby,” Oscar says gently, but Spencer can hear the anxious concern in his voice, “it’s gonna be okay, I promise. I’m here. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I just— Oh God, I just told the team.” A new wave of horror rolls over him as he realises what he’s done. Times might be changing, but it’s still only 2006, and he doesn’t know each and every nuance of his team members’ political positions and, fuck, he hates that his existence is a fucking political position.

Oscar’s been so understanding of his reluctance to not tell the team, even though Spencer’s met pretty much everyone in his life. He isn’t sure what he’s done to earn such a gracious and understanding boyfriend, but he’s not about to question it.

“Baby, I know it’s scary, and I know you’re really worked up right now,” he counsels, voice soft and reassuring, using the nickname he knows Spencer loves the most to make him feel as safe as he can from 700 miles away, “but it’s probably not as bad as you think. From what you’ve told me about the team, they love you so much, and even in the case that in the past they've had some issue with gay people, I can't imagine they’d ever actually think of you any differently when it comes down to it, Spencer.”

He’s crying too hard to reply, and Oscar understands immediately, gently transitioning into a story about his day that slowly starts to calm him down, and by the time he’s wrapping it up, his tears are starting to subside.

“Thank you, Ozzy,” he whispers into the phone, lifting himself up off the floor and making his way to sit on the bed instead.

“You know I’d do anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmurs warmly. “Do you want me to stay on the phone for a bit?”

“Yes please,” he whispers again, holding it as close to himself as possible, drawing all the comfort he can from his boyfriend’s voice.

He lies there listening to Oscar’s voice and trying not to think about the disaster downstairs for a good ten minutes before there’s a tap at the door.

“Oz, there’s someone here,” he says, voice panicked.

“I think you should probably speak to them, baby,” he urges. “I’ll stay on the phone with you while you do, if you like?”

“Please.” He gets up from the bed gingerly, keeping his phone tightly gripped in his right hand as he slowly unlocks the door with his left, revealing Hotch on the other side.

“Hey, Spencer. Do you mind if I come in?”

He’s riddled with nerves, but Hotch is smiling warmly, and he’s never said a harsh word to Spencer, so he steps aside and lets him into his room.

Hotch quickly notices the phone in his hand, visibly still on a call. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Spencer nods.

“Do you mind if I talk to him?”

His brows knit in confusion and his lips part slightly in surprise, but it’s all he can do to hand the phone over, watching Hotch carefully.

“Hi, Spencer tells me this is his boyfriend?” Hotch inquires politely into the phone, his tone still warm. “I’m Hotch, Spencer’s boss.”

He can vaguely hear Oscar speaking on the other end of the line, and he worries slightly that Oscar will somehow give away the familial feelings he holds for Hotch, but the conversation doesn’t last long enough for the anxiety to really take over.

“Everything’s fine here, I just want to have a conversation with Spencer, so is it alright if we hang up and I talk to him alone for a minute? He can call you straight back afterwards.” After a brief pause in which Oscar says something, Hotch looks back up at him. “Are you okay with that, Spencer?”

He nods hesitantly, and Hotch says a quick goodbye to Oscar before surging forwards and wrapping Spencer in a hug. It catches him off guard, but he doesn’t waste any time in burying his face into Hotch’s neck and soaking in the comfort and warmth that always radiates from his father figure.

“Come on,” Hotch says softly as they pull away a good minute or so later, “let’s sit down, shall we?”

“You’re not mad?” Spencer can’t help but ask, the question burning his tongue as anxiety — however quietened from Hotch’s hug — still swims around in his stomach.

“There are many things that could make me mad, Spencer,” he says earnestly, “but this is not one of them. I would never be angry at you for being who you are, okay? I might… I might be overstepping here, and if I am, then tell me and I’ll back off, but I’ve always seen you as a mentee, and over the years that’s developed— well, I see you more as a son these days. And part of that is wanting to protect and support you no matter what you do or say or who you are.”

Spencer wastes no time in diving back in for a hug, clinging onto Hotch for dear life as he hugs back, rubbing his back gently.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell us sooner, Spencer,” he says in a voice soft with affection and regret. “But I’m so glad you’ve told us now.”

He only presses closer at that, tears springing back to his eyes. “I didn’t want to lose you.” He knows what he’s implying, and even in a roundabout way, he’s glad he’s telling Hotch.

“Oh, Spence,” he sighs sadly, “you couldn’t do a single thing to lose me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“Really?” he asks, hating how insecure he sounds.

“Really,” Hotch promises, pulling away as Spencer does. “Now, you have a whole team of agents downstairs who are feeling very sorry for themselves and really want to see you.”

Nausea rolls in his stomach and panic springs back up as he looks at Hotch, desperate for some sort of grounding. “Are they angry at me? Do they hate me now?”

“No one hates you, Spencer,” he says firmly. “I promise you that. Everyone just wishes that they’d made you feel more welcome and comfortable. We all hate that you felt you had to lock up something so integral to who you are, and we can’t help but feel we played a part in it.”

“No,” he protests — the last thing he wants is family blaming themselves when it has nothing to do with them, “it’s not your fault, it’s just…”

Hotch nods. “I understand, it’s okay. Now, do you want to go down and see them? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it might help ease your mind to see that they really don’t hate you.”

Spencer pauses, taking a moment to think. “Can I see Derek first?”

“Of course,” Hotch says understandingly, and the comforting smile that crosses his face makes Spencer feel safe and taken care of. “I’ll send him up?”

Spencer nods and Hotch hugs him once more before leaving the room almost reluctantly. He wastes no time in picking up his phone and sending a text to Oscar. You were right. Hotch is fine. He’s just sending Derek up before I go and see the team but he says that no one’s angry and I think I believe him. Thank you, Oscar. I love you.

Not even half a minute goes past before his phone lights up with a text back. I’m so glad, baby. Call me later, okay? I want to make sure you’re okay before I go to bed. I love you more.

Before Spencer can argue that actually, he is the one more in love with the other, a hesitant knock sounds on his door. Nerves suddenly flip his stomach, and he clenches and unclenches his fists a couple of times before forcing himself to cross the room, revealing a very worried and regretful-looking Derek.

“Oh, pretty boy,” he says sadly, before crushing Spencer in a warm and tender hug. Immediately, he relaxes into the arms of one of his best friends, and relief courses through his blood at Derek’s reaction. “I am so sorry that I ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell me that you were gay or had a boyfriend. That’s completely on me. I don’t care who you love, Spencer, I just want you to be happy, okay? And if this guy makes you happy, then that’s fine by me. But if he ever lays a hand on you or—”

“Derek, Derek,” he laughs, “it’s fine I get it. Thank you, though, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier and for snapping at you in the bullpen that time…”

“I understand, Spence,” he promises. “It’s in the past, okay? And I’m sorry for pushing so hard. I mean, I’d love to meet him but if you don’t feel comfortable or you don’t want to, that’s fine, too. It’s your life, man.”

“No, I… I think I want you guys to meet him. It’s been so hard to keep him away from the people I consider my family, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe after Christmas, we can all have dinner or something.”

Spencer smiles shyly. “Well, Oscar’s a great cook, so I reckon we could work something out.”

Derek grins, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he immediately jumps back into teasing him as they make their way to the door to go downstairs and see the rest of the team. “Ooh, lover boy’s got him a chef, hey? What else does this Oscar have going for him?”

Spencer chatters eagerly about his boyfriend to Derek, barely skipping a beat when he joins everyone downstairs, his friends taking his cues and joining in with the conversation seamlessly. He’s had enough fuss for one night, and the warmth and understanding on everyone’s faces tells him everything he needs to know.

“Do you have any pictures of him?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow with eager expectancy as they all settle back into their seats by the fire, a warm and unbelievably happy feeling settling in Spencer’s stomach.

He blushes, digging out his phone from his pocket and unlocking it. “More than a few, I think.”

He finds the most recent picture of his boyfriend — a candid shot of him cooking in the kitchen, spatula aloft, and a huge grin on his face — and hands the phone around.

“Oh wow, you like them buff, huh, pretty boy?” Derek teases as soon as he gets his hands on it, and Spencer’s stomach twists in a sudden bout of fear, expecting to see some hesitancy or even disgust on his friend’s face. What if he thinks that Spencer has a crush on him? What if he’s uncomfortable around him now?

But if Derek’s having any of those thoughts, they don’t show on his face. He’s smiling widely and openly, all the pent-up anxiety and frustration borne from hurt gone from his body language, and he looks completely comfortable sat next to Spencer, his arm stretched out behind him on the back of the sofa.

They sit happily around the fire for a couple of hours, settling into a happy, intimate familiarity Spencer hadn’t realised was missing when he was hiding something so integral to his being from his family, and he’s still smiling when they finally part ways to head to bed, the clock ticking closer and closer to 1 am.

He gets ready for bed quickly, brushing his teeth and throwing on the top he’d stolen from Oscar the first time he’d stayed at his place; a welcome change from his worn and wrinkled suit. As soon as his teeth are brushed and the lights are all off except for his bedside lamp, he pulls out his phone, knowing there’s one more thing he has to do before he goes to sleep.

“Spencer?” Penelope’s voice sounds down the line, clearly concerned. “It’s almost 2 am here, are you okay?”

“I’m gay,” he says, getting straight to the point. The main reason he ever kept it from her was because of his fear of it accidentally getting out to the team rather than fear over her reaction. After all, multiple of his drag queen friends are also hers.

“Oh my God,” she says in that small voice she uses when she’s not actually talking to you, before finally actually replying to me. “Spencer, I’m so happy you told me!”

He doesn’t miss her choice of words, or the way she says them and he tilts his head suspiciously. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I’m sorry, a couple of months ago I saw a text from Oscar on your phone when you went to the bathroom during one of our Doctor Who marathons, and it wasn’t hard to figure out the relationship.”

“And… wait, you’re not mad at me for not telling you sooner?”

“Spencer! Of course not. I was waiting for you to be comfortable enough to share it with me. I felt awful that I knew without your consent but I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to catch you off guard or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s fine that you waited, baby genius, I’m just so happy you told me now. What finally gave you the courage?”

“Well, it might have slipped out in front of the team this evening,” he admits sheepishly, “and the only reason I never told you was because I was scared that it would slip out somehow — accidentally, of course, I didn’t think you’d tell anyone on purpose — and now everyone knows. It’s been killing me not to tell you, Penelope, it really has because I love you so much and you’re my best friend and I trust you with my life, it’s just…”

“Whoa, slow down, Spence,” she laughs fondly, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me, I understand. But I’m glad you finally told everyone and you can be yourself completely with us, now. We all love you no matter what, you know that right?”

“I do now.”

“Good. You should get some sleep, baby boy, it’s late and you’ve had an emotional evening.”

Spencer smiles. “Yeah, I know. You should, too, Pen. I’ll see you when we can finally make it home, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, too, 187,” she says softly, and Spencer can hear the smile in her voice. “Goodnight.”

As soon as he hangs up, he settles down into the bed, turning off the light and pulling the duvet up over his shoulders before dialling one more number.

“Hey, baby,” Oscar says, voice as gentle and caring as it always is, although thicker with tiredness now. “I take it everything went okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer murmurs, already feeling tired as the safety he always feels at the sound of Oscar’s voice settles into the fibres of his being. “It went so well. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”

“I can’t wait either, sweetheart. Are you in bed now?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Can you talk to me as I fall asleep?”

“Anything for you, Spence,” he says softly, before transitioning seamlessly into a story about the professors on campus, and his gentle comfort and the knowledge of the unconditional love his family has for him finally lulls Spencer into the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

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