#THAT KILLED ME. GOT ME RIGHT IN THE HEART. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imnez-daydreams · 10 hours ago

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listen, have i watched sinners ? no. do i know anything about the movie beyond uhh there's vampires ? also no. do i even know what remmick looks like ? still a no. am i still gonna devour this fic i stumbled upon on my feed ? you bet i am !!!

“Ain’t you—” you began to say, but he beat you to it, laughing low in his throat as he took a slow, deliberate step forward. “Lord, you spook easy,” he said, voice thick just soft enough to make you lean in without meaning to. “Didn’t mean to startle you, sugar. Though I s��pose I got a knack for it.”

okay well im already melting. "sugar" ?? reader leaning towards remmick from his soft voice is so real.

"You didn’t even get another sentence out before he titled his head, slow and deliberate, and stepped in just a tad closer."

ooo he's already eyeing reader like a predator eyeing his prey. tilting his head slow, moving into reader's space.

He took a step closer, and you backed up, your heart pounding faster. But your feet wouldn’t move. You wanted to run, but your body was paralyzed. The closer he came, the harder it was to breathe. “You don’t just walk away from me, sugar,” he said, his voice smooth like silk, but each word felt like a weight. “You don’t follow me into the woods and think you can just... leave.”

gosh the transition from polite image yet a sense of something off to cold, heartless and hungry is written so well !! the smile that doesn't reach his eyes, the kind words that don't fit quite right when leaving his mouth. then that last line, can feeeeel the possessiveness already rolling off his tongue.

“You wanna know what it felt like?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing. The way he looked at you then—like he was studying something precious, something fragile—made a shiver crawl down your spine. “What it felt like to kill Mrs. Hatcher?”

i like the juxtaposition of his gaze to his words. looking at reader with a gentle gaze yet talking about committing a violent crime.

“You should’ve stayed away,” he murmured, taking another step closer, and your body lurched, the terror of it all finally making your feet move. But not fast enough. “But now it’s too late darlin’ cause I intend to keep you for myself now.”

hey mister if you keep calling reader those sweet pet names you can keep me !! jokes aside the build up to the chasing is soo good ! the realisation dawning on reader that this man isnt even a man, something darker and unexplainable. that cold realisation turning into dread when he stakes his claim.

Behind you, his footsteps didn’t rush. He wasn’t chasing. He was following. Like a predator who already knew exactly where you’d end up. “Keep running,” he called, voice almost playful. Almost. “It’ll only make me want to fuck you harder.” You didn’t scream. You couldn’t. Your throat was tight with terror, your body buzzing with the kind of panic that drowns thought.

sorry for being depraved on main but this is so hot i cant even lie akdhsidke. LISTENN. remmick not even running, just leisurely following after reader. knows he can easily catch up so its like he's savouring your fear, your hopeful naivety thinking you can escape him. then him playfully telling reader continue running. then, then that statement about how running is just gonna make him fuck reader harder. hello. (me when)

"He yelled out your name—how’d he even know your name? There was a guttural edge to his voice—low, primal—that tore something loose in you. You cried silently, not daring to make noise, not out of fear, but because your body didn’t know what else to do."

omg been watching and listening !! and reader has been none the wiser all this time. i like how reader's reaction is realistic too, those times when tears just escape you not cause of the sadness or fear but because the situation you're in seems so hopeless, tears just make their path down your face.

He takes his hand from your neck, and you barely register when it slips beneath your long nightgown. One hand forcefully parts your thighs—rough and possessive—while the other holds your wrists captive above your head. "You don’t even know," he murmurs, his voice almost gentle, as he continues "You're fortunate that I want you all to myself."

remmick what is that supposed to mean mister. are there worse monsters than you ? but again i really like the duality of it all, gentle and soft voice with the backdrop of violent and rough hands.

And as his lips brush against your ear, whispering promises of pleasure and pain, you can't help but wonder what fate has brought you to this moment, where his will dominates your own and the line between fear and longing blurs into something dangerous and intoxicating.

goodness that wholeee last line is so beautifully described. even though its a long one it doesn't even feel dragged on, just a string of pretty words dancing.

"Don’t look away," he breathed, his nose brushing yours with each slow, deliberate motion—like he needed you to witness what he was doing. You did, though your vision blurred with the weight of it all. Maybe it was instinct, maybe something deeper—but you obeyed. Looking into his eyes was like staring down a storm: wild, old, and wholly untamable.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he murmured again, breath hitching against your cheek, his drawl low and possessive. “Ain’t no one ever gonna see you like this but me, you understand?”

EYE CONTACTTTTT. i go crazy over this. feral even. love love love. the smut was so good !!! how reader feels that pull, can't stop wanting it even though the warning bells are ringing. the possessiveness, the claiming. grrr.

“You’re mine now,” he breathed, voice coated in something reverent and frightening all at once. “Ain’t just sayin’ that either—I felt it in my bones the second I saw you. Like God carved you out just for me.”

ohhhhhhhdndkdjeiedklfl. im a sucker for religious themes this is so good. reverent ??? as if reader was carved by God just for remmick ?????? in shambles this is delicious writing.

phew that was a ride !! thank you ada for introducing me to sinners :DD this was sooo good and well written, it really makes me wanna read other works of this character ! dont mind me snooping through remmick's tags after this hehe. thank you for writing, splendid work ada <3

Baked In Blood

summary: Driven by kindness, you walk to a secluded house every day, leaving freshly baked pies for the mysterious man who never shows himself. But when your neighbor, Mrs. Hatcher, is violently killed one night, everything changes. As fear spreads through the town, the man you've been silently serving steps into your life—and the true, terrifying nature of his obsession begins to unravel.

warnings: non-con, dub-con, explicit content, dirty talk, mentions of blood and murder, forest sex, prey and predator dynamics

pairing: dark!remmick x fem!reader

words: 6k

based off this request

The air was thick with that early morning quiet — not cold, but not warm yet either. Just still. Hushed. Like the world hadn’t quite decided to wake up. The pie in your hands was still warm, warmed in a red gingham towel that gave a slight aroma of sugar and cinnamon. You carried it like you always did, how you carried it to his house every morning. Steady, careful, both hands under the dish so the heat didn’t slip through and burn your fingers.

You took the long way, even though you didn’t have to. Past the lot where the hydrangeas used to grow, Past the old gas station that hadn’t sold gas in years. The street was empty, save for a squirrel darting across the sidewalk and a newspaper half soaked in dew.

You liked mornings like this. Quiet ones. Nobody needing anything from you yet.

His house sat at the far end of the block, past where the road cracked deeper and the shade settled in early. You could barely see the roofline through the trees most days. No cars in the drive. No signs of the sun shining into his house in the mornings, windows and curtains closed. Just that porch with the crooked step and the step and the front door that never opened.

You didn’t know who he was. No one really did.

You’d never seen him up close. Never heard his voice. Just a name once, muttered by a neighbor who looked like she regretted saying it the second it left her mouth.

But none of that mattered. Never mattered to you.

You climbed the creaking and worn steps like usual, pie in hand, the porch groaning under your weight. You paused at the door. Knocked once… twice then three times and that was it. Never more.

SIlence only met you. Not even a sign of a curtain drawing back. Though you waited just for a few seconds more. Long enough to maybe give him a chance to open the door and accept the pie you usually baked.

There were signs he took the dishes you left on the little table posted by the chair on his porch. And you needed him to open the door sooner or later in the future because you sure were running out your plates and dishes.

So you crouched down slightly, set the pie down on the small round table. You adjusted the towel, smoothed it down with your fingers. And then left like you always did. Same way you came. With your back turned you never saw the figure that stood by the window– shifting the curtain ever so slightly to watch you leave.

It was a good twenty five minutes by the time you reached your gates, your rhoughts still back at that old house. You’d never gotten anything in return except for an empty door. But it didn’t stop you. Some things couldn’t be helped, and kindness was one of them. It was just who you were.

You didn’t know why you were this way– always looking out for others, always taking the time to lend a hand, even if it meant nothing in return. Maybe it was because your mama had always taught you that small acts of kindness could make all the difference in a world that could be a little too harsh and unyielding sometimes. Or maybe it was just your heart, too damn big for its own good.

You’d seen people look at you strangely when you held the door open for them or when you offered a smile to the grumpy old guy who owned a small grocery store cross the street who barely even returned the smile. But you didn’t mind. You’d always been this way, and you’d always keep doing it— whether it was helping your neighbor Mrs Hatcher with her groceries or just leaving one too many baked goods for a man who never even bothered to show his face.

As you reached the steps of your porch, you noticed Mrs Hatcher was sitting outside again, her rocking chair creaking steadily. The morning sun barely touched her, casting her face in a sharp light that made her look even more critical than usual. You almost didn’t want to stop, but you were too polite, so you gave her a quick wave as you neared the gate.

She didn't wave back. Not like how she would regularly do so. Instead, she looked you up and down, her eyes narrowing slightly, and for a moment, the silence between you both felt a little too thick. “Been out walking again, huh?” she said, her voice carrying the same sharpness it always did, but now there was something else in it— a little more judgement, a little less warmth than usual.

You nodded. “Just dropped something off.”

Her eyes flickered toward the street, and she took a slow drag from her cigarette, the smoke curling up into the air like it had a mind of its own. “And what’s that, exactly? Your ‘good deed’ for the day?” You shifted on your feet, a little uncomfortable, but you didn’t want to seem rude. “Just took the guy that lives in that old house near the woods a pie. I baked it in the morning.”

Mrs Hatcher raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair as if shw was trying to make some sense of you. “That house,” she started slowly, like she was comprehending her own words in her head before letting them out, “It ain’t one for pies, sugar. And it ain’t one for kindness neither. You might want to stop before you‘re the only one left out there handing things to a ghost.”

You felt a small flutter in your chest, but you didn’t show it. Sure you’ve heard the whispers about that house— from the strange way it sat, half hidden behind thick trees, the rumours that no one had ever seen the man who supposedly lived there. People called him strange, distant, dangerous even, but it didn’t faze you. You didn’t need to know him to know that everyone deserved a little kindness.

“I’m sure he’ll like it,” you said simply, smiling. “He’s always been taking them in.”

Mrs Hatcher’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “Is that so huh?” She leaned forward, the creaking of her chair louder now, her tone dripping with a subtle challenge. “Well, maybe he don’t mind. But I’m telling you sugar, one day you’ll find out kindness don’t always come back around the way you think it will.”

You didn’t know why, but there was something in the way she said it that left a bitter taste in your mouth. Something that didn't sit right. But you ignored it, like you always did with her not bothering to listen to any of the bullshit any more, you just gave a simple smile and nodded. “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you said, offering a half smile before stepping toward your front door.

The last thing you heard before you entered was Mrs Hatcher’s voice, barely above a murmur, like she was talking to herself. “Just be careful, girl. There’s kindness… and then there’s being a fool for it, and that’s you right now.”

You didn’t let it bother you. It was just Mrs Hatcher, always watching, always waiting for something to go wrong. But somehow, her words hung in the air, and for the first time in a while, you wondered if there might be more to her warning then you realized.

Everyone was shocked to hear the news, but nobody could say they were surprised.

It wasn’t the kind of thing that was completely unexpected in a place like this. The kind of place where people get to be known by their routines, their quirks and their habits. So when the sheriff made his rounds, grim faced and speaking low, people leaned in a little closer, nodding pretending they didn’t already know.

Mrs Hatcher had been found in her chair— rocking still, like she was just taking one of her usual evening naps. But this time, her chair wasn’t creaking from the wear of decades. It was still in a way it never had been before. Her neck, torn open, blood spread thick across the porch, pooling like dark wine against the old wood.

It was late, the street bathed in that heavy hush. The silence clung to the scene, to the dark windows and the front door that creaked ever so slightly due to the wind.

But it wasn’t just the manner of her death that had the town rattled. It was the fact that it had happened right there. Just a few houses down from where you could practically hear the crickets and see the stars in their endless stretch above. Mrs Hatcher had never been the type to keep quiet. She knew too much, talked too loud, watched too long— and all her sharp words, there was always a thin, hidden thread of fear running underneath them.

The sheriff said it was too early to say much. But you didn’t need to be a damn detective to know that whatever had happened to Mrs Hatcher, it had come from the deep shadows beyond the streetlight’s reach. And that, as always, made you nervous.

You stood at the edge of the gathering, the murmurs of the townsfolk was a distant hum as your eyes were just fixed on Mrs Hatcher's porch. The air was thick with the scent of iron and something else— something you couldn’t quite place.

As you begin to take a cautious step closer, a sudden chill ran down your spine. You turned slightly, sensing a presence behind you.

Remmick stood there, half shrouded in shadow, his eyes reflecting the dim light with an unsettling gleam. His expression was unreadable, but there was a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth when he saw your reaction to him somehow startling you.

You didn’t answer right away— couldn’t, really. It wasn’t just that he’d come out of nowhere. It was that this was the first time you were actually seeing him. Up close. And he wasn’t what you expected. He was just a normal man. Tall, wth skin pale like it hadn’t met sunlight in years. But it wasn’t his looks that held you. It was something else you couldn't quite take hold on.

“You’re…” The words trailed from your lips, thin and uncertain,

“Remmick,” he offered, with the faintest tilt of his head, the smile still ghosting at the corners of his mouth. “Though it sounds like folks ‘round here prefer other names for me.”

He glanced across the street, toward the sea of curious people that had gathered in front of Mrs Hatcher’s house. The porch light burned too bright now, casting hard shadows over shaken faces and murmured prayers. Someone was crying, but no one had dared to step past the old woman’s front gate. No one even noticed him. Not with the chaos. Not with the way the fear made them all look anywhere but the dark.

“Hell of a night,” he muttered, almost to himself, voice curing like smoke in the stillness.

Then he looked back at you. “You been bringing those baked goods, didn’t you, specially the one today?”

You blinked. “What?”

“The one in the red towel. Sugar and cinnamon.” His gaze lingered. “Tasted real good.”

Unease tightened in your chest, and something more but you weren’t sure if it was fear or something colder.

He chuckled again—low, almost fond. “Meant to bring the dish back. Got a mind like a cracked jar, though. Things slip out easy.”

You swallowed, unsure if you meant to nod.

“If you’re not too spooked to walk back with me,” he said, voice light like he was asking you to fetch a paper off the porch, “I could hand it off now.”

He held your gaze a second longer, then added with a crooked smile, “Seems like nobody’s watchin’ but you anyhow.”

You cleared your thrat, trying to keep your voice steady. “That’s alright, I can just come by in the mornin’ and pick it up.”

You didn’t even get another sentence out before he titled his head, slow and deliberate, and stepped in just a tad closer. “Nah,” he said, low and smooth, like he was talking to some skittish animal. “Best do it now.” There was something in the way he said it—not harsh, but final. As if he was the one deciding for you instead.

You tried to laugh it off, light and easy. “It’s no trouble really. I don't mind—”

“But I do,” he cut in, still smiling. “Ain’t polite, lettin’ a lady like you walk all the way just to fetch her own plate back. ‘Sides, I got somethin’ for you.” That made you pause. “A gift,” he added, like he was sweetening the offer, though the word came off strange in his mouth, like he’d never had much reason to use it. “For all those baked goods. Seemed only right.”

You hesitated, eyes flicking toward the crowd again that was still buzzing around Mrs Hatcher’s porch, not a single one of them looking in your direction. His voice dropped slightly, though the smile stayed. “AIn’t nobody gonna notice you’re gone, sugar. Not tonight.”

And it was true. They wouldn’t. The streetlamps were dim, the shadows stretched long, and everyone’s attention was wrapped up on what had happened. You could simply leave easy right now, and nobody would even call your name.

You swallowed, throat dry.

He turned then, back toward the narrow path leading toward the woods. “C’mon,” he said over his shoulder, his husky and slow with a soft roughness to it. “It’s just a short walk. You already know the way.”

Yeah a short walk… a twenty five minute short walk with a guy you baked for but he never did have the face to open the door, and suddenly he’s asking you to follow him home after the events that took place tonight. But you didn’t give it a thought any longer, telling yourself you were just now paranoid. So you just followed behind him.

The road felt longer this time. Each step kicked up dust that didn’t seem to settle, and the cicadas had gone quiet, like even they didn’t want to listen in. You kept a few paces behind him, watching the sway of his shoulders, the way he didn’t look back once—not even to make sure you were still there.

You told yourself it was fine. He was just being polite. Returning a dish, offering a gift. That’s all it was.

But the dark felt thicker out here. Heavier. Like it was pressing in, one slow breath at a time.

It was a good ten minutes before either of you spoke.

Just shoes on the forest floor. The occasional creak of a distant fence outside of the trees shifting in the wind. You were starting to think maybe he wasn’t much for small talk—maybe he’d changed his mind about that “gift” entirely—when his voice finally cut through the dark.

“You always that generous with folks who don’t bother sayin’ thank you?”

You blinked. “Figured you were just shy.”

That made him huff a laugh. “Is that what they’re callin’ it these days.”

You could see the back of his head tilt slightly, like he was chewing on whatever thought came next. Then he added, “Truth be told, I didn’t expect you to keep bringin’ those goods. Thought you’d give up after the second one went untouched.”

“They weren’t untouched,” you said quietly.

Another beat of silence.

“No,” he said at last. “No, they weren’t.”

And that was all he said.

Just enough to make your skin prickle.

You kept walking, telling yourself you were just tired. Just tired and rattled from everything with Mrs. Hatcher. But still, something in his voice made you wonder if the pies were all he’d been taking.

The road narrowed as you walked, the trees leaning in closer like they were listening, their bare branches creaking softly in the wind as though whispering to one another. Crickets had gone quiet somewhere along the way. You didn’t notice when. Just that the silence had started to hum, low and constant, like something was holding its breath.

“You always walk this way alone?” he asked, voice low like he was afraid to break something in the dark, or maybe like he hoped he would.

You glanced at him. “Most mornings.”

“Brave,” he muttered, though it didn’t sound like praise. “Folks ‘round here talk too much and see too little. That kind of silence’s dangerous when no one’s listenin’ right.”

“You listen?”

“Sometimes,” he said. Then, with a half-smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, “Don’t mean I always like what I hear.” You didn’t answer that. Just kept your eyes ahead, the trees curling over the path like ribs, and the moonlight catching in strange, pale flashes on the gravel. It wasn’t the first time you’d taken this road, but it felt unfamiliar now, like the dirt had been stirred different, like something unseen had stepped ahead of you first and left the path colder behind it.

“Why now?” you asked suddenly, the question clawing out before you could think better of it. “All this time, you never said a word. Never showed your face. Then tonight, after—” you didn’t finish the sentence. You didn’t need to. The name didn’t need to be said again out loud.

He took his time responding, just like he took his time walking. “Reckon I just figured the timing was right.”

“That because of Mrs. Hatcher?”

That smile again. Crooked. Sharp at the edges. “Didn’t say that.”

You stopped walking for a beat, not because you meant to, but because something in your chest pulled tight. “But you didn’t say it wasn’t.”

He looked back at you slowly, eyes gleaming in the dark like wet stones, and for a second, his face was half-lit by the moon, carved in angles and shadows that didn’t look entirely human. “You ask a lot of questions for someone still walkin’ beside me.”

That stopped you more than anything. Not the words, but the way he said them—calm, like he was commenting on the weather. Like he already knew you’d keep walking anyway.

And you did.

Maybe it was foolishness. Maybe it was that same part of you that kept leaving pies at the door of a man you’d never seen, even when the dishes never came back. That stupid softness your mama used to call your ‘God-given curse.’ Either way, your feet moved before your mouth could argue.

Ten more minutes, you told yourself. Just ten more minutes. And then you’d turn around.

But deep down, you already knew you wouldn’t.

The woods felt suffocating, each step you took making the air grow thicker, heavier, as though something in the darkness was pressing against you. It wasn’t just the trees, it wasn’t just the silence. It was him.

Remmick walked ahead of you, so calm, so assured—like this was all part of some twisted game, and you were the only one who didn’t know the rules. His back was turned, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was aware of you, every movement of yours, every step you took.

Finally, you couldn’t do it anymore. The weight of his presence, the heavy silence, the way he didn’t even seem to care that you were still walking behind him—it all piled up. You had to say something.

“I think I’m just gonna head home,” you said, your voice shaky, betraying the panic you were trying to keep under control. “You can just give me the dishes and gifts another time.” Your words felt like a desperate attempt to break the tension, but they fell into the woods like a pebble into a deep, dark well—no echo, no response.

For a moment, there was nothing but the low rustling of the trees, the soft whisper of the night wind. Then, without turning to face you, his voice cut through the air—low, dark, chilling.

“Daft.”

It wasn’t a word. It was a sentence. A judgment.

You froze. His voice, though soft, felt like it was wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to make it hard to breathe. Your heart skipped a beat, your skin prickling. You couldn’t tell whether it was fear, the cold, or something else entirely making your body shudder.

Your mouth went dry, but you tried to force out something—anything to break this moment, this growing nightmare. “I—I'm just not feeling well. I think I should go.”

You took a step back, but he wasn’t having it. He didn’t even turn to face you.

“Daft,” he repeated, sharper now. “You think I’d let you walk away after you followed me here?” Your breath hitched. Your feet felt glued to the ground, like the air was too thick to move through. You wanted to run, to scream, but your body betrayed you, stuck in place as if you were trapped in quicksand.

You looked at him now—his back still turned—but something about his posture had shifted. It wasn’t just his body language, though. It was in the air. It was in the space between you. Something darker had taken root, something unrecognizable.

He finally turned, slowly, deliberately, and the smile he gave you wasn’t the same one from earlier. There was nothing warm in it. It was sharp, cold, like a blade dragging across skin.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. His eyes locked onto yours, but they were different now—flickers of red deepening in the corners, glowing faintly in the dim light. He didn’t look human but at the same time he did.

There it was again—his smile, wider now, crueler. It made your stomach twist, nausea rising up your throat.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he asked, his voice almost too calm. “You think you’re safe, walking through the woods like this? Like I’m some normal guy you can just forget about?” He took another step toward you, and you felt yourself sway back, but your feet stayed planted.

His eyes were glowing now, too bright in the dark, his pupils slit like a predator’s. This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be happening.

You blinked, eyes wide. Your mouth opened, but no words came. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

“Her blood was so warm,” he whispered, as if speaking to himself, the words heavy with something sinister. “The moment my teeth sank into her throat, she stopped fighting. She knew. She knew she couldn’t outrun it, couldn’t escape me. But she didn’t stop trying, not at first. She kicked. She scratched. She screamed—but there was no sound. No sound at all once I got my hand over her mouth.”

You could barely hold your ground now, your legs trembling. Every word he said made you want to run, but your body was frozen, immobilized by something you couldn’t explain.

“She tried so hard to get away,” Remmick continued, his voice softer now, like he was savoring the memory. “But the harder she fought, the better it felt. I could feel her pulse—fast, frantic, desperate. It was like the world had slowed down, and all I could hear was the sound of her blood rushing, beating in her veins, until it wasn’t.”

Your body was shaking now, your hands clenched into fists by your sides. You couldn’t escape his gaze, couldn’t escape the pull of his voice.

“She went limp, finally. And I could taste it—the victory, the power. The moment her body stopped fighting? That was the moment I knew. I knew it was perfect.”

You felt sick, but you couldn’t look away. His eyes—those damn eyes—had you trapped, every word sinking deeper into your chest, twisting, turning.

That was when you began running.

Branches whipped your arms and tore at your clothes, but you didn’t feel it. You were moving on instinct—raw, clumsy, frantic. The darkness swallowed the path, and still you ran, lungs burning, eyes stinging. You didn’t even know where you were going. Just away.

Then your foot caught—root, rock, something—and the forest flipped sideways. You hit the ground hard, your palms shredding on gravel and bark. The pain jolted up your arms and knocked the air from your lungs. You scrambled to your feet, but your ankle screamed the second you put weight on it. There wasn’t time—he was too close.

So you crawled. Half-dragging yourself through the underbrush, eyes wild, hands trembling, and ducked behind the thick trunk of a gnarled pine. You pressed yourself against the bark, heart slamming against your ribs so loud you were sure he could hear it. The forest had gone still.

Dead still.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to quiet your breathing, every breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps through your nose.

He yelled out your name—how’d he even know your name? There was a guttural edge to his voice—low, primal—that tore something loose in you. You cried silently, not daring to make noise, not out of fear, but because your body didn’t know what else to do.

He found you before you could move again — an arm slipping around your waist from behind. You barely had time to gasp before he pulled you back, gently but firmly, like you'd simply wandered too far.

Then, without warning, your head was guided down, not slammed, but pressed hard enough into the earth that the shock still jarred you. Dizziness bloomed behind your eyes. By the time you blinked through it, Remmick was already on top of you, his body blanketing yours with a frightening calm. His chest pressed against your back, steady, too steady. One hand slid up, slow and deliberate, until it curled around your throat — not choking, just holding. Controlling.

A broken sound escaped you as tears streamed down your face, hot and helpless. Your fingers clawed instinctively at his hand, the one wrapped so carefully—so cruelly around your throat. There was no strength in your resistance, only fear and the desperate hope that he might hesitate.

You try to push against his hold, but he only tightens his grip, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His words echo in your mind as fear and confusion swirl within you. You feel trapped, vulnerable beneath him as he looms over you with a hunger in his eyes that chills you to the core.

You can see the intensity of his gaze fixed upon you, a mixture of desire and possession that makes your heart race with both terror and a strange, forbidden thrill. And as his lips brush against your ear, whispering promises of pleasure and pain, you can't help but wonder what fate has brought you to this moment, where his will dominates your own and the line between fear and longing blurs into something dangerous and intoxicating.

You don’t even notice he’s moved your undergarments aside, not warning you.You suddenly wince as he inserts two fingers at once, not bothering to be gentle. His breath is hot on your neck, his voice a low growl. "You're mine now. Every part of you belongs to me." You can feel his heartbeat, steady and calm, unlike your own which is pounding wildly against your ribs. His fingers move inside you, exploring, claiming, and you gasp, your body betraying you with a shiver of pleasure.

He shifts slightly, his lips trailing down from your ear to your collarbone, leaving a path of fire in their wake. "You can fight it all you want," he whispers, his voice like velvet darkness, "but your body knows who it belongs to." His thumb finds your most sensitive spot, circling slowly, deliberately, drawing out a moan from deep within you despite the fear that still lingers in your eyes.

You buck against him, a futile attempt to deny the sensations coursing through you.

He laughs softly against your skin, a sound that resonates with triumph. His teeth graze your shoulder, a gentle bite that should be a warning, but your mind is a swirl of confusion and desire. The nightgown tangles around your waist as he shifts again, releasing your wrists to push the fabric higher.

Oddly enough, when your fight waned, that was when things…changed. "There she is," he says, his hands warm on your bare hips. You know you should run, scream, do anything to break free from the spell his touch weaves around you, but your muscles betray you, your body succumbing in various ways as pleasure envelops you completely.

"You were made for this," he breathes, his eyes dark with certainty. He pins you down again, and this time you don’t struggle, the fight leaving your limbs as your own desires betray you. You can sense the mounting bliss intensifying within you, building pressure in your lower core as you teeter on the edge, about to climax on his fingers.

He watches your face closely, like a man studying a piece of art, ready for the moment when it overtakes you. "There you go darlin’," he murmurs, urging you on, and the sound of his voice is the final push. You cry out as waves of release crash through you and every nerve in your body sings with surrender.

He holds you through it, his fingers slowing to a languid pace until your breathing evens and your heart calms, pulling back slightly to look at you, satisfaction etched across his face. He removes his fingers slowly and careful, you don’t even have a second to even catch a break before you can hear the rustling of his belt and pants and you know what's coming. He parts your legs wider, opening you to him again, and presses against your entrance.

“Gonna claim ya real good now darlin’, you’re doing such a good job.” The sensation of him entering you is intense—stretching, burning, and pulling you apart with the thick, weighty movement of his shaft. He fills you completely, every inch commanding submission, and you arch under him, the feeling overwhelming and all-consuming.

His hands grip your hips, steadying you, pulling you closer as he begins to move. He thrusts slow and deep, each motion a deliberate staking of his claim, and your body responds in ways you can't control, meeting his rhythm, rising to meet him as he buries himself inside you over and over.

Your mind reels with the impossibility of it, the way desire silences resistance, and your body betrays every instinct to flee, surrendering instead to the brutal, relentless pleasure he forces upon you. You gasp his name, a broken plea caught between a cry and a moan, and he only pushes harder, his breath hot and wild against your throat.

"That's it," he groans, his voice rough with need, "take it all."

As he bent down to kiss you, you without thinking returned the gesture. His thumb grazed your damp skin, and a soft hum in his throat soon transformed into a groan. You didn't desire it, nor did your mind, yet it seemed as though your body was operating independently, driven by hormones.

His hand snaked through your hair, pulling gently as his lips pressed against yours with a fierce hunger. The kiss deepened, full of demand and promise, his teeth and tongue teasing you until you couldn't tell where you ended and he began. The force of it all—the thrusting, the kissing, the claiming—pulled you further into a daze where pleasure eclipsed pain, and you were lost, floating on the brink of something infinite.

Your body arched helplessly, wave after wave of sensation leaving you breathless, raw, and vulnerable. He quickened his pace, his movements more urgent, pushing you both toward an inevitable release. The air was thick with the sound of skin on skin, punctuated by his ragged breaths and your own soft, involuntary cries. It was too much, too fast, and yet nothing else mattered in those moments but the wild, terrible ecstasy of being taken, utterly and completely.

You closed your eyes, too overcome with the overstimulation, he curved his hips deeper into you. “Open your eyes darlin’.” He says getting your attention again. You obeyed, though some quiet part of you understood how dangerous it was—how locking eyes with the one unraveling you piece by piece would only carve the memory deeper.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he murmured again, breath hitching against your cheek, his drawl low and possessive. “Ain’t no one ever gonna see you like this but me, you understand?”

The air felt thick, like the woods themselves were leaning in to watch. His nose brushed yours with every movement, his brow pressed to your temple. You weren’t sure when the tears started again, but they did—quiet, unrelenting.

As he continued to whisper shameful, dirty words to you, saying things like you’d never leave him, and as he still relentelly thrusted into you, his mouth found your neck—then came the sharp, sinking pain of his bite. It wasn’t just teeth. It was a claim. A seal. Something final.

And in the haze of it all, in the breathless dark, you stopped fighting the truth. Somewhere between fear and surrender… you accepted it.

#remmick x reader #remmick #sinners

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 2 days ago

Note

i hurt my own feelings by imagining how shark mer ghost's insomnia might get worse if remora mer reader got attacked/hurt by a predator while he was sleeping somewhere else

74 / part 2 of shark!141 after remora reader gets attacked

...

Ghost’s grip anchors you in place. His rough palm spans nearly across your back and reignites the sting of half-healed wounds. For a moment, to your sleep-deprived, terror-stricken, paranoid prey brain, he’s not Ghost—just a much larger mer with you trapped in his grip.

You twist, but it accomplishes nothing besides grinding your cheek further into the cold, cave-white sand floor.

"Stop squirming," he snarls. The command lacks its usual bite. The sand swirls around you both, stirred by the agitated flick of his tail. His grip tightens as you struggle. "You think I'm the one you need to fear? Look at you—panicking over shadows. You're damn lucky it's me and not some actual threat."

Your heart hammers in your chest. The first time you pluck up the courage to venture out into the water since the encounter with the barracuda mer--driven by hunger--and here's what it gets you.

"Breathe," Ghost orders. "Before you pass out and make this even more of a mess."

You go limp. "Are you gonna kill me?"

Ghost exhales sharply through his gills. "Shut up," he mutters. "If I wanted you dead, I'd be picking you out of my teeth." His thumb presses into the knotted muscle of your lower back, right where the deepest claw marks still ache. You skipped the fucking patrols. Skipped letting anyone check those wounds while you fussed over everyone else. That's what gets you killed. Ghost focuses on the most inflamed gash near your shoulder blade. Sand packed in the wound. Smell of rot starting to set in. A growl vibrates through his chest. Apparently you'd let it fester over accepting help.

Ghost dips his head and sinks his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder--not breaking skin, but applying enough pressure to freeze you in place. His tongue swipes harshly across the infected lacerations. Saltwater and enzymes sting through the detritus. He's... cleaning you. Roughly. Your fingers flutter and thread into wet sand. The dual sensation of pain and the unexpected intimacy send conflicting dizziness up your spine. This isn't right. You should be the one cleaning him.

The pressure of his jaw keeps you from jerking away. His free hand pins your wrist to the sand when your fingers twitch toward his ribs. Like you could ever push him off. You're hyperaware of his strong prey drive and your own instincts to freeze. You don't dare to even squirm. Still, his teeth press harder in a silent warning.

His tongue drags over the inflamed tissue again, methodical despite the violence of the gesture. The scrape of his rough tongue against your wounds burns—not just from the salt, but from the sheer wrongness of it. A shark mer shouldn’t be debriding a remora’s injuries. Shouldn’t be this close or handling you this way without intent to maim or breed. His teeth graze the edge of a half-scabbed gash, testing the give of the tissue. One sharp jerk of his head could tear it open. Instead, his tongue laps another stripe over the wound, slower this time.

Finally, the scrape of his teeth retreats to the safer press of his lips—still firm, still controlling, but no longer threatening to break skin. His grip on your wrist eases.

A shudder works through you. Not fear. Not quite.

He doesn’t lift his head until the marks are flush and pink with fresh irritation instead of festering neglect.

"Stay still."

Sand resettles around you as he reaches for a clump of nearby kelp and rips it free. His movements are efficient as he presses the kelp’s gel against the wounds to seal them.

So that's why he chased you into the cove at the edge of the kelp forest. You hadn't even noticed you were being corralled. You do your best to keep still and prone in the sand despite the overwhelming urge to peer at him over your shoulder. You focus on the sting of his rough healing instead.

Even when curiosity wins out, he doesn’t let you look. One broad hand presses between your shoulder blades to keep you down. The other works the kelp into the wounds with a clinical sort of brutality—no gentleness, just efficiency.

The kelp’s cool gel seeps into the inflamed tissue, to soothe the burn of his rough cleaning.

His voice is a low rumble against your spine. “You don’t get to hide in the reef and rot.” The words are harsh, but the way his other hand shifts to cradle the side of your neck—keeping your face from grinding into the sand—isn't.

He doesn’t elaborate, either. Just drags you upright by the scruff of your neck and shoves you toward the open water. “Swim. Before I decide you’re not worth the trouble.”

...

part 1 / [part 2] / part 3

more mer au / more Ghost / masterlist

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darkmatilda · 2 days ago

Text

𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a trip to the amusement park was supposed to be fun. and fun it was — especially the surprise of running into an old friend, seaver. at least, for spencer. because her appearance makes a certain someone start acting…strangely, casting a tense shadow over the rest of the evening.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, trip to the amusement park with morgan and garcia, reader’s wearing heart-shaped sunglasses for the vibe, ashley seaver (but shes not portrayed as a bitch lmao she doesn’t deserve that) reader adopts some random guy like a stray dog off the street, both of them are jealous idiots like omg shut up and kiss already (they almost do lool)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4.5k

𝐚/𝐧: request | no idea why it turned out so long i really enjoyed writing the dialogues here <3 marathon masterlist

"Remind me, babygirl, how did we end up here?" Derek asked, walking to the left of Spencer in a tight gray T-shirt and motorcycle sunglasses perched on his nose.

He was, of course, addressing the two women a few steps ahead of them, who were walking arm in arm and chatting so intently that they hadn’t even noticed how far ahead they had gotten. Only his question pulled them out of the giggling trance they had fallen into. It was impressive how, despite being completely focused on each other, they still managed to weave through the hundreds of people gathered that early evening at the amusement park with a model-like stride.

Penelope turned around over her shoulder, adjusting her ponytail.

"Because I wanted to try something new with you," she announced in a tone full of a certain warning — that she expected nothing from them that day but pure fun and, in the end, a tearful thank you for coming up with the idea to go there. "To plant sweet kisses on the foreheads of your inner children because, no offense, you all deserve it. I'm going to win a giant teddy bear. You, handsome, will have the chance to show off at the High Striker. Spencer...well, I'm sure you'll find something for yourself. Maybe they have a little geography quiz corner for especially naughty kids?"

"But geography quizzes are pure pleasure, why would they be for naughty—"

"And you, gorgeous?" she interrupted, turning to the woman right next to her. "Is there anything you'd like to try?"

Her eyes were hidden behind red heart-shaped sunglasses, but even so, Spencer sensed that her gaze landed on him. It frustrated him internally that he couldn't read her intentions or even the intensity of her look through the dark lenses.

"Run Reid over with a go-kart," she replied without hesitation. "then grab some cotton candy."

He sighed.

"With those sunglasses, I can't tell if you're joking or not, so allow me to just ignore you," he suggested.

She slowed her pace slightly, letting him catch up. Meanwhile, Garcia and Morgan beside them had launched into a conversation that somehow slipped past Reid’s attention once he found himself closer to the woman. Her head was tilted ever so slightly, arms folded across her chest, and he could feel the sensation of careful analysis on his profile — oh, he didn’t need to see her whole face to perfectly picture that expression.

"So you're saying that normally my eyes give away my sarcasm?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"I was more thinking that deadly serious threats coming from a woman in heart-shaped sunglasses have something unsettling about them. I’m staying on high alert."

Her elbow against his ribs. Intended as a jab, but without real hostility, so he felt it more like a light, harmless brush.

"Calling it a threat already," she muttered, wrinkling her nose slightly. "You're so sensitive. All these years in this job and you still haven't gotten used to people trying to kill you?"

"The thing is, I did get used to it," he replied, letting out a short laugh a moment later. "Got used to it very well. But today’s my day off, so... it’d be nice to get a break from it."

He threw the words out without much prior analysis. They weren’t having a deeply intellectual conversation; his mind was relaxed. In fact, he was surprised himself by how good he felt, considering he usually didn’t go to places like this. The sheer number of people around was compensated for by the crisp weather, the noise at a manageable level. What helped the most was focusing on a conversation with just one person, which made all the unpleasant stimuli around him lose their intensity.

In any case, Spencer Reid felt good.

And he certainly didn’t expect his colleague to turn slightly towards him, moving with grace and effortlessly walking backwards, looking as though she was considering something.

"We'll see," she said with a slight shrug. The half of her face not hidden behind the sunglasses looked rather soft.

To Spencer’s surprise, it didn’t strike him as suspicious. It didn’t make him uneasy, or send him spiraling into psychoanalysis over what might be lurking beneath it.

Then suddenly, one corner of her mouth curled upward.

"But not because I feel sorry for you. I'm just having a good day”

And it got better after she got her cotton candy. At least the threat of getting run over by a go-kart had faded into oblivion.

Still, Spencer was about to suggest they start with something else, even beginning to glance around, when he accidentally caught someone’s gaze. It had clearly been fixed on him for a while, as if trying to confirm whether it really was him.

“Spence?”

A surprised voice came from a woman with long blonde hair draped over her shoulders, already making her way toward them.

A slow smile began to form on her lips—one that widened considerably when she spotted Penelope and Morgan as well.

“Hi, guys! Oh my god, I can’t believe this!”

Garcia’s ponytail bounced against her back as she came to a sudden stop, clutching a freshly acquired swirl of yellow cotton candy in both hands.

But she wasn’t the first to speak. It was Derek, arms spreading wide in greeting.

“Seaver, who would’ve thought!”

Running into a former member of their team was a very pleasant surprise. So much so that Spencer even let her hug him in greeting—something he usually tried to avoid. Briefly, over her shoulder, he noticed the woman slowly lifting her heart-shaped sunglasses to rest them atop her head.

Seeing her eyes uncovered for the first time that day, Reid found himself falling headfirst into the trap of her gaze—where he unintentionally held Ashley a second or two too long.

“I’m so happy to see you guys,” she said, pulling back with a smile.

“You here on your own?” Penelope asked.

“With friends, but they all went on the Ferris wheel. And me and heights—” she waved a hand dismissively.

“Great! I mean—not great that you're scared of heights, but great that it means you can hang with us until they’re back. What do you say?”

“Really? That would be awesome!”

That’s how their little group grew by one. A lively conversation sparked up right away—it had been quite some time since they’d last seen each other. Reid, though genuinely glad about the reunion and curious about her new job, only took part for a moment.

Shortly after, before he even realized what he was doing, he drifted away from the group to fall into step with the woman who still had her heart-shaped sunglasses perched on top of her head. She was walking with them, but not quite with them, casually studying a theme park map in one hand, a tuft of pink cotton candy in the other. Technically, she looked focused on it, but Spencer doubted she’d be too upset if he interrupted her a little.

Besides, he needed to ask where the nearest bathroom was.

Before he could open his mouth, she noticed him approaching and gave him a brief, not-so-subtle (and not particularly interested) glance. Then let out a short snort.

“What?” Reid asked.

“What what?”

“What…” he echoed her earlier snort.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t answer right away. After a short pause, she went on.

“Call me nosy,” she said, “but I’m genuinely intrigued. A pretty blonde calling you Spence—who’s not JJ. Something going on there? Or used to?”

Completely caught off guard, Spencer blinked twice.

“Seaver?” he asked unintelligently.

And he already knew what was coming.

“No, Marilyn Monroe—”

“That was seriously a bit nosy.”

“I’m taking that as confirmation.”

“No-” he started, but immediately cut himself off. First of all, maybe, just maybe, a long time ago, something had happened on his end, but not enough for it to matter in this moment. Second of all, even if it had, he wasn’t about to explain himself for her curiosity. He shrugged. “Not seriously. It’s just Ashley. You should recognize her. She was with the BAU for a while.”

She shook her head.

“First time I’ve seen her.”

“I’m sure you’ve met her before.”

He felt mildly irritated by her bold stance. Because as he said, he was sure that they’d worked together on a case at least once. Of course, they hadn’t been close, as evidenced by the fact that Seaver greeted her with a mere hi, skipping any hugs. Which Spencer wasn’t surprised by at all. Her resting face and overall aura weren’t exactly inviting for hugs. Well, for most people. For the rest, sure, but in the way that beautiful, poisonous fruits tempt you to taste them.

“I must’ve just not remembered her face,” she replied dismissively. Then suddenly, she looked at him, her brows furrowed slightly in thought. He couldn’t tell whether it was genuine or fake. “Oh, wait, I think I remember now, when you mentioned her name. Ashley Seaver. She’s that daughter of the serial killer who helped you guys with the investigation.”

Spencer wanted to say something, just to interrupt her, but couldn't decide on the right words, so an unidentified sound escaped his mouth instead. She had said it so loudly that he immediately turned around to see if the woman they were talking about had overheard. He wasn’t even sure how she knew about it, but he didn’t want Seaver to think he had casually shared her past behind her back in an amusement park.

“You didn’t have to add that,” he said defensively.

“I didn’t? So, it’s not true? She’s not—”

Anticipating what she was about to say, he looked around desperately, unsure how to shut her up. A very simple idea popped into his head, one that didn’t require any props, but it was so absurd that he dismissed it immediately. Then, he thought of something else—he reached for the cotton candy in her hand, tore off a piece, and shoved it into her mouth, brushing his fingers against her lower lip.

She swallowed the sweet because, well, she didn’t have much of a choice. Spencer, watching her do so, found himself pondering what quote he might put on his gravestone.

“I’ll run you over with that go-kart,” she said with unsettling calm.

The sunglasses no longer covered her eyes, so he could clearly tell she wasn’t joking.

“Ooh, what if we tried competing in pairs?” Penelope suddenly suggested, clapping her hands, already excited by the idea.

Then she turned toward them, her gaze landing first on her own obvious partner (Morgan, of course), and then shifting to the remaining three—an uneven number.

The remaining trio also looked at one another. To make the situation painfully sitcom-like in the most awkward way, Spencer happened to be standing directly between the two women, whose heads turned toward him in perfectly synchronized motion. Then, toward each other. In silence.

“I don’t have to join,” Seaver broke the silence with a light shrug. “I mean, you all came here together, and I’m just waiting for my friends.”

“Or you could just go as a trio,” Derek suggested with a casual hand gesture. Then he threw a quick glance at Garcia. “Might actually make the teams a little more balanced.”

His gaze drifted to the woman in heart-shaped sunglasses, subconsciously sensing that if he said it out loud, she’d probably back him up—what with her unwavering belief that she could do anything better on her own.

But she wasn’t looking at any of them. Her eyes were fixed on some point in the distance as she lowered her sunglasses slightly down her nose. Combined with a brief, beckoning wave of her hand, it had such a hypnotic effect that Reid, entranced, didn’t even realize she was actually calling someone until a completely random guy appeared in front of them—a guy wearing a cap that suggested he worked at the amusement park.

He walked over with a step so light it was as if he were gliding, his dopey gaze locked on the woman who had summoned him.

“Are you off your shift?” she asked, arching a brow at his cap.

Spencer exchanged a confused glance with the rest of his friends. Derek’s mouth was pulled into a crooked grin, like he couldn’t wait to see where this was going—and was clearly entertained. Spencer, personally, was not.

“Yeah, like, five minutes ago,” the guy replied, swallowing hard. “Oh.” He looked up at the brim of his cap and quickly took it off.

“Great,” the woman muttered, with absolutely no genuine enthusiasm in her voice. “You’ll be my partner, then.”

Morgan couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. The other women looked amused too, and Ashley was honestly a little impressed by how effortlessly she wrapped a complete stranger around her finger. It was obvious the guy wasn’t going to object.

Spencer didn’t find it impressive. He found it terrifying—but what did he know?

Watching the park employee drop his cap and awkwardly bend to pick it up, Spencer let out a sarcastic huff—directed not at the guy, but at the woman.

“Good luck winning, then,” he muttered in her direction, leaning in just enough so it’d be for her ears only.

Completely unfazed, she took off her sunglasses and hooked them onto the neckline of her top—which, of course, lowered slightly. She didn’t notice. She wasn’t looking there.

She was slowly turning her gaze toward Reid.

“After I kissed you, you acted like you were having a stroke for three days,” she noted, her voice quiet but unmistakably clear. “So try to be understanding with my new partner.”

She gave his shoulder a pat after saying that and walked off first to join the ring toss game.

And as Reid watched her go, a very, very treacherous warmth crept into his cheeks.

Maybe he should be more understanding of her new partner (Steve, as it turned out) (a genuinely nice guy, as it also turned out).

The combination of his knowledge of every game they tried and the demon of competition that seemed to possess her body (she was still merciful to Morgan and Garcia, but he and Seaver had no hope of anything more than being brutally chewed up and spat out) meant they won every single round.

And well, Spencer had originally planned to treat the whole thing as a friendly pastime where everyone ends up feeling like a winner—because hey, they were all clearly having a great time together—but he couldn’t quite swallow the bitter aftertaste of watching Steve hand her the massive duck-pond prize: a stuffed bear so huge that when she hugged it, it folded in half, and as she walked away, it looked like she was dragging an unconscious, fluffy body behind her.

“Spencer, what about getting something to drink?” Seaver’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

He turned to her, her question reaching him with a slight delay. He noticed she had mentioned only his name—so she meant…just the two of them.

He didn’t really want to split off from the friends he came with, but he glanced over at Garcia and Morgan, currently locked in an intense battle with the claw machine, and at the other pair…who were, apparently, talking. If you could call it that.

Steve was saying something, a little nervously, with shy hand gestures, while the sunglasses were back on her nose and it was hard to tell if she was even listening.

But Spencer knew she was—he recognized the tilt of her head, ever so slightly to the side. She looked the same way earlier, when he had been explaining something to her just after they’d arrived at the amusement park.

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” he replied after a moment of silence.

As they walked away, he caught a glimpse of the heart-shaped-sunglasses face subtly turning in their direction.

It seemed like Ashley wanted to bring something up, but she stayed quiet until they had walked off and bought brightly colored lemonades in clear cups.

“Your friend is…”

Spencer let out a quiet sigh, already knowing where this was going. It’s not like she’d been openly rude to her, but she had ignored her with a certain…passion.

“Annoying?” he suggested.

“Intense,” Seaver finished at the same time, giving him a slight smile. Spencer raised his eyebrows, surprised. “She has a bit of a thing for competition, right?”

“I think it’s more about proving she’s the best of the best in every possible field,” Spencer muttered under his breath, not even sure if his colleague had heard him.

She took a sip of her drink through a straw. She seemed slightly amused.

“And above all, better than me. She didn’t really like the fact that we ended up on the same team. I mean, you and me.”

Reid even stopped walking for a moment, completely failing to grasp her logic.

“No, I don’t think that’s it,” he said. They were nearing the rest of the group again—he saw the subject of their conversation standing with her back turned toward them. “If I were with her, she couldn’t compete with me or prove that I suck, which she just loves to do,” he added with a snort.

“Oh, I’m not saying she wanted to be with you,” Seaver corrected, and Spencer looked at her in confusion, because in his reasoning, that’s exactly what she had just said. But she shook her head. “I’m just saying she doesn’t like that you ended up with me. Oh, look, my friends are back. Time for me to go.”

She raised her hand to wave goodbye but hesitated for a second, her gaze drifting to the side as she gently bit her lip. Then, carefully not to spill her lemonade, she gave him a light hug. Over her shoulder, past the loose blonde hair falling across it, Spencer met someone’s gaze—one so intense that, if it weren’t restrained by sunglasses, it might have set something on fire.

Once again, he let it take hold of him, and once again it caused him to hold onto Ashley a moment too long, not breaking eye contact with the woman.

At some point, she took a visible breath, after which her posture relaxed into something resembling indifference, and she turned back to her new companion.

Spencer remembered he was holding a cup in his hand. Taking a sip of the lemonade, he thought to himself that this whole situation was really starting to mess with his head.

“What a shame Steve had to leave,” Spencer said.

They’d been standing in line for the Ferris wheel for a while now—since dusk was falling, the ride promised to be particularly scenic, and quite a lot of people had signed up for it. Each gondola could only hold two people, so the four of them had played a particularly intense round of rock-paper-scissors, in which Morgan was clearly cheating. But when Reid pointed it out, he got yelled at, since apparently, according to the others, it was impossible to cheat at rock-paper-scissors.

The woman stood next to him with her arms crossed over her chest. Quite close—something the line required of them—yet a visible distance had still opened up between them. They were talking, but it felt more like an exchange of cold updates, so he’d rather just stay quiet, not really sure why that was.

“Who?” she asked.

“Oh, don’t pretend,” Spencer rolled his eyes, glancing at her with a scoff.

She responded with a dismissive shrug, which in turn drew a grimace from him.

“Don’t try to tell me you don’t even remember his name. You two were having such a great time together.”

“Why do you care so much whether I remember the name of some random guy or not?”

“He won you a teddy bear…wait, what did you do with that bear?”

He had only just noticed the giant stuffed animal had completely vanished and gave her a suspicious look.

Her tired sigh, her eyes rolling upward.

“I doused it in gasoline and danced an occult ritual around the bonfire it created I GAVE IT TO SOME LITTLE GIRL what else was I supposed to do with it?”

Her voice had the sting of a bite, and Spencer quickly backed off—God, he had only been asking.

“I don’t know, take it home maybe,” he mumbled the suggestion, which she dismissed with nothing more than a mocking snort.

Their turn to board the yellow gondola came. It had a single long bench inside. He let her go first, and in silence she took a seat right in the middle, rather than sliding into a corner. Which meant he had no choice but to sit so close their shoulders almost touched.

"What a shame your friend Ashley had to leave," she said, crossing one leg over the other and keeping her gaze firmly away from him.

There was sarcasm in her voice. The kind of sarcasm that made Reid pause, openly studying her profile, analyzing it the way only he could. Slowly, he drew in a breath, something in his mind starting to click into place.

"I think so too," he said with a small nod.

"Obviously you do," she replied flatly, her words carrying a cool breeze of indifference.

He rested his elbow on the back of their seat so he could stay turned toward her. Her posture remained straight—she always took up a bit more space than she physically needed—there was an alluring aura around her, a boundary over which one could lose their senses, unless they were immune. Spencer considered himself to be.

“I think I know why you’re more unbearable than usual today,” he began, swallowing. She didn’t notice—she wasn’t looking at him. Not because she felt intimidated or anything like that, but simply because her gaze was something one had to earn.

“Go ahead, enlighten me.”

“You didn’t like Seaver being there.”

She turned her head toward him and even pushed her glasses up to the top of her head. Spencer slightly tensed his shoulders—this had a stronger effect than he’d expected.

“You really think that the addition of someone I’ve never interacted with, whose face I wouldn’t even recognize in a crowd, could seriously affect my mood? That’s something only unhappy people do.”

The Ferris wheel started moving, lifting them slowly, and Spencer had no intention of backing down from his theory. In fact, with each passing moment, he felt even more certain of it.

“That’s exactly what I think,” he said. “Because it meant less attention was on you.”

“Less attention on me?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “The teddy bear I got was bigger than you.”

"You can’t stand the fact that I was paying you less attention," Reid finally blurted out. "Because, well, you don’t even have to like someone or treat them decently—but you still want them chasing after you. And it’s way more satisfying for you when it’s me doing it, not some random guy looking at you like you’re a masterpiece."

She turned slightly more toward him, their knees brushing—something she didn’t seem to notice. Spencer did, but only registered it fleetingly—his focus was entirely on her expression. Alert, chin tilted subtly in his direction. Her lips had a faint shine to them, likely a sugary trace of cotton candy.

“And what, in your opinion, sets you apart from those random guys?” she asked challengingly.

“I literally just explained that.”

She looked at him for a moment in silence, her expression unreadable—before letting out a laugh. Spencer smiled too, though it was a smile edged with clear irritation, almost mocking her in return. Of course it was easier to laugh him off than actually engage with what he said.

But then his smile faded into a deep inhale as he realized he was staring at her—the way she laughed with her head turned slightly away from him, not looking at him at all—like she was the masterpiece.

“Spencer, please,” she said, rolling her eyes.

She met his gaze again. The only thing that crossed his mind was how humiliating it would be to kiss her then. To give in to the impulse creeping into his nervous system. To act like a complete hypocrite—probably the exact word her lips would leave imprinted on his skin. But he’d only notice it after the cotton candy sweetness had faded. Sweet sweetness. A distinctly human trait—choosing small pleasures and following desire instead of thinking about the long-term consequences of one's actions.

Like the typical human he was, he leaned toward her lips, ready for their meeting—when suddenly the Ferris wheel jolted and came to a stop, their gondola pausing at the very top. They heard a single frightened scream, but neither of them were the type to panic easily. They just glanced around.

Forgetting entirely what had just been about to happen.

Spencer nervously licked his dry lips, taking advantage of the fact that she wasn’t looking at him. He hoped no one had actually fallen out, but if someone had—he was fucking grateful to them, because they’d unknowingly stopped him from doing something incredibly stupid.

But a person falling out was actually the rarest reason for Ferris wheels to stop.

“It’s most likely a power outage,” he explained.

The woman leaned forward with interest to peek out gently from the structure. And she chose to do so on his side, which meant leaning over him—bringing with it third-degree contact with the scent of her hair and her entire presence. Closing his eyes in exasperation at himself, he continued,

“Could be an engine issue, or a sensor malfunction. Or…could you please just go back to your seat?”

He addressed her firmly, that familiar anxiety flaring in him when someone did something risky right in front of him—even if she had only leaned out slightly. She gave him a somewhat amused look.

“I don’t want to be accused of pushing you on purpose,” he added.

She sighed, but did as he asked. Sat exactly where she had before, while Spencer pressed himself a little deeper into the corner of the seat to increase the distance between them. Thankfully, the machine started moving again shortly after—because if they’d been stuck up there any longer, he would’ve been completely lost.

There was nothing he needed more in that moment than the touch of solid ground beneath his feet.

After a moment, Morgan joined them—along with Garcia, whose legs were visibly trembling.

“Guys, I was sure we were all going to die…”

Everyone collectively allowed her to release the panic that had clearly built up in her chest. He, for one, was grateful for the chance to stay silent for a while.

It was then that he caught, for the last time that evening, the woman’s gaze—lingering and piercing, plainly indicating that she wasn’t stupid and knew exactly what he’d been about to do.

Moment later, she slid her heart shaped sunglasses back down onto her nose.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #diva reader ♱#diva reader marathon 💄#spencer reid criminal minds #spence reid #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff

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cheriedivine · 20 hours ago

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𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 | chapter 2

previous | chapter 2 | next

꩜ Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem reader (no use of y/n)

꩜ CW: your usual swearing, mentions of smoking. (lmk if i missed any)

꩜ WC: 4.5K

꩜ A/N: I wanted to post chapter 2 before going back to school so here it is a little treat for y’all, and again tysm for the support on last chapter <3 I’m enjoying writing this so much and I’m building up the tension so bear with me…

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

The apartment was quiet, save for the distant hum of a city that never fully slept. Golden morning light seeped through the curtains, cutting soft lines across the couch where Ellie slowly blinked awake—head foggy, mouth dry, and back a little stiff from the awkward angle she'd passed out in.

It took her a second to realize she wasn’t alone.

Your head was tucked against her shoulder, warm breath brushing lightly against her collarbone, your leg thrown halfway across hers like it had always belonged there. You were still asleep, face soft in the early light, hoodie slightly bunched at the shoulder. And Ellie—hungover and groggy as she was—couldn’t move. Wouldn’t dare to.

Something about the moment felt fragile, like shifting the wrong way might shatter whatever invisible thread tethered her to you right now. Her eyes wandered—over your cheek, your lashes, the way your mouth parted slightly as you slept. She knew that mouth. Knew the way it twisted into grins when you teased her, the way it stretched wide when you laughed, the way it moved when you rambled about work or scolded her for bringing the camera right in your face.

But right now, it wasn’t moving. Right now, it was inches from her own, and that fact suddenly felt... louder than it should’ve.

She swallowed. Throat drier than ever.

You’d always been like this with her, touchy, close, the kind of best friends who shared beds, jackets, inside jokes laced with too much affection to be totally harmless. But this? Waking up to your weight tucked into her like you were something she could lose?

That was new, it scared her. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she was just too hungover.

Ellie exhaled slowly, shifting just enough to tilt her head back against the couch. Eyes to the ceiling. Trying not to think about the way her heart was beating a little faster than usual.

Trying not to think about how easy it would be to just… stay like this.

She closed her eyes for a second, trying to figure out how she could get up without waking you. Her mouth was dry, head pounding slightly—she needed water. And a cigarette. Badly.

But just as she was about to move, a pillow hit her square in the chest.

You stirred with a soft noise, blinking awake, clearly as confused as Ellie until your eyes landed on Jesse standing a few feet away, grinning like an idiot.

“Rise and shine!” he said way too cheerfully.

“I’m going to fucking kill you, dude,” Ellie groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as she chucked the pillow back at him.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, your hair sticking up at odd angles from where you'd been slumped on Ellie’s shoulder all night.

“What time is it?” you mumbled through a yawn.

Ellie stumbled toward the coffee table and grabbed her phone. Dead. Of course.

“It’s past eleven,” Jesse answered before she could ask. “Dina went out to grab breakfast and told me to wake you two up. So… mission accomplished.”

You stretched out with a groan, the ache of the couch and last night’s twisted sleeping position settling in. Ellie made her way to the kitchen sink, filled a glass of water, and downed it in seconds. She filled it again, bringing it back to you without a word before digging around for her charger, and a cigarette.

Once her phone finally powered on, the screen lit up with a handful of missed calls from Joel.

“Shit,” she muttered, tapping to call him back. It barely rang before he picked up.

“The hell have you been? I got a weird-ass call last night from some lady asking for ‘camera girl’? Care to explain?”

Ellie winced, blowing out the smoke. “Uh. Yeah. Okay. So… I may or may not have given a girl your number to blow her off because I didn’t know how to turn her down politely.”

“How about you stop being a goddamn flirt? That’s a start,” Joel snapped. “Poor girl hung up the second she heard my voice.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, Joel. Won’t happen again,” she mumbled, hand scratching nervously at her neck.

You curled back up on the couch, watching her with a half-lidded gaze and a smirk that said you’re never gonna let her live that down.

Ellie settled on the small chair beside you, still embarrassed of the small inconvenient with Cat, thank god she might never have to see her again. She tied up her converse, adjusting her pants, until she heard the doorbell ring.

“Open the door, my hands are full!” Dina yelled from the hallway.

Jesse scrambled to his feet like he was on fire. “Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, flinging the door open as Dina stepped in with two bags—one filled with takeout containers and the other with orange juice and what looked like three kinds of aspirin.

“God bless you,” Ellie said, sitting at the kitchen counter, hunched over like someone who’d just fought in a war.

“Did you seriously wake up and had a smoke?” Dina asked, eyeing her. “You look like a raccoon that got hit by a truck.”

Ellie flipped her off, too lazy to do it with any real heat.

You sat up slowly, hair a mess, still wrapped in one of Dina’s throw blankets like a burrito. “I feel like a raccoon that got hit by a truck,” you mumbled.

Dina laughed and dropped the food on the table. “Eat. Hydrate. Shut up.”

Everyone shuffled around the kitchen table, opening takeout containers and sorting through plastic forks. Jesse popped open a bottle of orange juice and poured out uneven glasses for everyone, passing them around like he was tending bar.

Ellie slid into the chair next to you, her thigh brushing yours under the table. Tangling her foot with yours, something she always did when sitting next to you. You didn’t move away.

“You okay?” she asked quietly, leaning in a little.

You turned to her, lips quirking. “You’re the one who had a pillow to the chest, I think you’re the victim here.”

She smiled. “True, but you looked like you were actually dead when I got up. Like, I was genuinely wondering if you stopped breathing on me.”

You chuckled. “And yet you didn’t check?��

“I was gonna. But then I remembered you snore when you’re alive, so I waited it out.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, biting into a piece of toast. “I don’t snore.”

“Oh you do. It’s kind of adorable, though.”

Before you could come up with a smartass reply, Dina dropped a small bottle of ibuprofen in front of each of you.

“No one’s allowed to move until they eat, hydrate, and take two of these,” she ordered. “Hangover brunch is sacred.”

You leaned your shoulder into Ellie’s for a second, subtle, but she noticed. And she didn’t lean away.

After brunch wound down and everyone (Jesse) had gone home, Ellie offered to drive you back. You agreed, like she had any other choice anyway, but the plan shifted before you even made it out of the parking lot.

“Mind if we make a quick stop at the studio?” she asked, one hand on the wheel, the other lazily draped out the window. “Need to download the shots from yesterday’s shoot before I forget.”

You glanced at her, the curve of her jaw catching the light. “You mean the shoot where that one bridesmaid almost cried because the wind ruined her updo?”

Ellie snorted. “Yeah. That one.”

“Sure,” you shrugged, kicking your feet up on the dashboard like you always did in her truck. “Only if you let me judge your editing process.”

“Oh, I will lock you out of the studiot.”

“Rude.”

The car ride was quiet, in that easy, comfortable way you’d both settled since you met. The streets were mostly empty, Saturday afternoon lull in full effect. You watched the buildings blur past, music humming low through the speakers—some soft indie song from a playlist Ellie always had running but never let you see.

“So…” you started, moving a piece of her away from your face. “You sleep okay?”

She glanced over at you, raising a brow. “With you practically cutting off circulation in my arm? Like a baby.”

Ellie smirked, eyes still on the road. “You drooled on me.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did. I was gonna get up for water but I thought you might go feral if I moved.”

“Wow. What a gentleman.”

“Right? I deserve a medal.”

You chuckled, biting back a smile. There was something about being in her truck like this that always made the world feel smaller. Calmer. Safer.

Eventually, she pulled into the tiny parking lot behind her studio—a little second-floor space tucked between a florist and an out-of-business vape shop. She hopped out, locking the doors with a chirp, and tossed you the keys.

“In case some creep tries to break in, you can beat them with my keychain,” she joked.

You followed her upstairs, the steps creaking beneath your feet.

The studio smelled like citrus and dried eucalyptus—Ellie’s signature, apparently—and was scattered with gear, lighting rigs, camera lenses, and one stubborn plant that refused to die.

She had a small thrifted green couch where you often took naps after work, when she would come and pick you up. Her guitar was displayed on the wall in a hardwood frame Joel made for her, and her workspace was filled with film rolls, camera lenses, and her laptop. The walls were decorated with a bunch of her favorite pictures, a picture of Joel, the farm where she grew up with him, her horse shimmer, and a picture of you, that she had taken when you went to the museum with her.

She moved through the place like second nature, flicking on lights, booting up her laptop, connecting her camera to transfer the files. You perched on the arm of the couch, watching her with a soft kind of curiosity.

“So,” you said, “this was all just an excuse to hang out more, wasn’t it?”

Ellie looked up from her screen, caught. She tried to play it cool, that lazy smirk tugging at her lips. “What gave me away?”

You shrugged. “You never download photos the same day.”

“Touché.”

You swung your legs up onto the couch, leaning back into the cushions like you owned the place.

“I mean,” you said, “I don’t mind. Your studio has better lighting than my soul.”

Ellie snorted. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

She let the silence settle again as she worked, but every now and then, she glanced up—just to look at you. And even if she didn’t know what it meant yet, she felt it. That pull.

That something.

You snuck a glance at the screen while Ellie scrolled through the photos. Her hands moved with practiced ease, eyes laser-focused, posture relaxed but precise. It hit you again—how talented she really was. She didn’t just take photos, she captured moments so beautifully throughout her lense, froze them in time, and made everything look so magical, straight out of a renaissance painting.

Then you saw her.

A girl in one of the shots—black hair styled in a sharp bob, delicate features, almond eyes that seemed to hold secrets. Effortless beauty. You nearly choked on your own spit.

“Who’s that?” you asked, pointing at the screen before you could stop yourself.

“Oh,” Ellie said casually, not even glancing up. “That’s Cat. The one who almost got me disowned by Joel.”

You blinked. “That’s her?”

“Mmhm.”

“She’s… beautiful.” You meant it, but the words felt sour in your mouth. Something twisted in your stomach—an odd, sour pang. Like the idea of Ellie flirting with someone like that made you queasy. Which was ridiculous. She was your best friend.

“Yeah,” Ellie said, scrolling past the photo. “Not my type though.”

You turned your head toward her, brow raised. “Since when do you have a type?”

She looked at you with a smirk, one eyebrow cocked. “Since when do you care, huh?”

You huffed and smacked her with the nearest throw pillow.

“Jesus—what is it with you people and violence today?” she laughed, shielding herself with both arms.

You grinned, flopping back into the couch beside her, sitting cross-legged. Your knee pressed lightly against her thigh, grounding you both in that familiar proximity that had always been so easy.

Ellie leaned back into her laptop, brows furrowed again in that intense little way she got when she was editing. Tongue poking out the side of her mouth—her tell. You’d seen her make that same face a thousand times over the last year and a half, but now, for some reason, it made your heart beat a little faster.

And you hated how much you noticed it.

You let the silence settle for a moment, the glow of her laptop casting soft light over her features. Green eyes glowing. You were trying very hard not to keep sneaking glances.

“Do you ever get tired of weddings?” you said, breaking the quiet,

Ellie snorted, eyes still on the screen. “Absolutely. I mean, I like the photos, yeah, but it’s always the same. Crying moms, drunk uncles, forced dancing.”

You smirked. “Sounds like a Tuesday at Dina’s.”

“Exactly. At least I don’t have to wear a dress to Dina’s,” she muttered, grimacing.

You laughed. “I’d pay money to see that.”

She turned to look at you then, finally tearing her gaze from the laptop. “That right?”

“Yup. I’d print it out. Frame it. Maybe even make a shrine.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Remind me to never let you near my old Halloween photos.”

“Oh my god,” you gasped, leaning in. “You’ve worn one before?!”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Ellie.”

She grinned, leaning back on her hands. “Let’s just say… middle school was a weird time.”

You looked at her like you were staring at a ghost. “You absolutely have to show me now.”

“Fuck no.”

“I’ll find them.”

“You won’t.”

“I’ll text Joel”

“I’’ll tell him to block you, say you got hacked, his old ass would buy it”

But she was laughing, and that tight coil in your chest eased a little. But yet, something still buzzed beneath it all—unspoken, unnamed, just waiting for the moment one of you accidentally said too much.

An hour passed by, maybe more. Two half finished mugs of peppermint tea sat lukewarm on the small coffee table in front of the couch, the steam ong gone. Ellie had wrapped up editing the pictures a little while ago, but neither of you had moved. Conversation came easy and meandering like it always was when it was just the two of you. Your legs were lazily stretched across hers, while you rambled about something she couldn’t really keep up with. Not because she didn’t care, but because she was too distracted by you. The way your face looked soft in the tiny rays of sun that bleed through her window, your eyes relaxed, hair still undone and messy, lips moving freely. The calm way you existed beside her.

Then your phone buzzed across the table.

“Ugh,” you groaned, reaching for it without moving your legs. Ellie helped nudge it closer to you with her foot.

It was your roommate, Sally. A quick phone call to remind you it was your turn to buy groceries. She was off to see her boyfriend for the rest of the weekend, and had conveniently left the fridge empty.

“God, I hate grocery shopping,” you muttered, thinking about the long lines to the cashier, the blinding fluorescent lights, and carrying the bags back to your apartment. It wasn’t a task for the weak that’s for sure.

Ellie chuckled. “I can come with you, if you want.”

You blinked, “Wait really? I don’t wanna bother you.”

“Yeah I’ll drive.. Besides I could use some cereal and actual food for me” she shrugged, like it was no big deal “We can suffer in the cashier line together.”

You smiled, a soft kind of grateful. “Els you are an actual angel– You sure you’ve got nothing better to do than listen to me complain about the price of eggs?”

“Sounds like the perfect saturday plan” She said, standing up and stretching her arms above her head, her shirt riding up slightly Your eyes drifting a second too long at the exposed skin.

You shook your head, snapping out of it, standing too “Alright then, grab your keys. But can we stop at my place first? I need to get more cash, change my shirt, and definitely brush my teeth. I feel disgusting.”

Ellie grinned. “Yeah, wouldn’t want you showing up to the grocery store smelling like peppermint tea and moral decay”

“Oh shut up,” you laughed, tossing a cushion at her chest. She caught it with ease and added, “Okay okay let’s go stinky.”

When you arrived, Ellie parked out front like she’d done a hundred times before.

“Be right back,” you said, hopping out and unlocking the front door, luckily for you your apartment was on the first floor. “Wanna come in?”

Ellie hesitated for half a second before killing the engine and stepping out. “Sure. I’ll make sure you don’t get distracted by your phone again.”

You laughed as she followed you inside. Your apartment was cozy, very clean and tidy, with the exception of your little cluttered corner with books, cd’s and vinyls. You headed towards your room, while Ellie drifted to the small kitchen counter, settling herself on the wooden stool. Eyes wandering toward the shelves that contained some framed pictures of you and your roommate and half-burnt candles, she fidgeted with the hem of her jacket. Eyes anywhere but your bedroom door.

Her mind started divagating to yesterday’s incident. Suddenly a wave of shame crashing into her, how could she possibly look at you that way? But the way you’d been tucked against her side like it was the most natural thing in the world, it was natural. It was how you were with her, always close, always touchy. That was the problem. You’d always touch her like that, leaning on her, throwing your legs over hers, calling her your best friend while curling into her like she was the safest fucking place you’d ever known. ‘Fuck. Nope, I can’t do this.’ She thought to herself.

And now here she was, sitting stiffly like an idiot while you were changing your shirt in the other room. She could hear the faint sound of drawers opening, a closet creaking, and her mind was absolutely betraying her.

She reached for a glass and filled it with water, just to give her hands something to do. Stupid. She felt stupid.

In your room, you peeled off your hoodie and tossed it in the laundry basket, grabbing a freshly washed tank-top that paired perfectly with the light grey sweatpants you were wearing. You ran to the bathroom to brush your teeth quickly, spitting out the foam with a groan.

“Ellie?” you called from the hallway, “you still there?”

“Yeah! just having a glass of water” she replied, trying to keep her tone casual.

You stepped out of the bathroom finally, fresh shirt on, hair quickly finger-combed back into place. You looked at her and smiled, oblivious to the mess in her head.

“Alright, ready to go?”

Ellie slid off the kitchen counter, grabbing her keys from her little carabiner. “Yup”.

She made a beeline towards the door, holding it open for you, and for a second you felt that same warmth settle between you. Charged in a way you’d spent a long time ignoring.

The grocery store wasn’t as crowded as you’d imagined, but the cold air made you grumble under your breath the moment you walked in, suddenly regretting your shirt choice. Ellie grabbed a cart without you asking, which made you grin, and you tossed your bag inside before taking the front, lazily pushing it while she trailed beside you.

You moved slowly through the aisles, grabbing the things from your shopping list, fruit, snacks, your favorite cereal, and bitching about prices.

“Three dollars for a fucking cucumber,?” you muttered, tossing it into the produce bag. “What’s it made of? Gold?”

Ellie smirked. “Maybe it comes with a motivational speech.”

You turned to her with a deadpan stare. “Remind me why you’re here?”

“Because you begged me to come.” she said leaning onto the cart with a lazy grin.

“Oh is that right?” you teased, tossing a box of granola bars into the cart “You basically threw yourself at me.”

She hummed, clearly entertained, not bothering to hide how much she liked poking at you.

There was something about the two of you in this mundane setting–like everything slowed down. Her jacket sleeves pushed up slightly, peeking at the moth tattoo on her forearm. Rings catching under the aisle lights as she tapped them gently against the cart handle. The way her eyes followed you when you weren’t looking, like she couldn’t help herself.

At one point, you reached for something on a high shelf, standing in your tiptoes, fingers brushing the edge of a box of instant coffee, and just when you were about to call Ellie for help, she was already grabbing the coffee box, your faces inches away from the other, you could feel your cheeks heat up, hoping Ellie couldn’t notice it.

“Tragic how much you need me, she teased, you could feel her breath on your cheek, but you wouldn’t let her get away with it.

“Tragic how your ego fits in this aisle.”

The bickering faded into easy silence after a bit, your bodies moving in rhythm around each other. You picked out yogurt while Ellie grabbed frozen berries. She waited while you scanned your list twice, walking slowly behind you, close enough to graze your shoulder every now and then.

Eventually, with a full cart and your stomachs starting to rumble, you headed to the checkout line.

“Dinner at your place?” she asked casually.

You paused, glancing at her. “You staying the whole day or what?”

She shrugged, lips pulling up. “You want me to?”

You didn’t answer right away. Just turned to face forward in line, hiding the heat on your cheeks with a small smirk.

“You already know the answer.”

Ellie smiled to herself, the kind that never quite reached her mouth but burned in her eyes.

She was in deep shit.

Back at your place, the groceries were dumped on the kitchen counter, brown paper bags scattered messily. Ellie kicked off her shoes near the door, already familiar with the routine. You tied up your hair, a few pieces falling out, framing your face naturally, relaxed. Ellie turned on the tiny speaker in the corner, playing some mellow playlist in the background.

She lingered near the stove, watching you unload the bags like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Leaning lazily there, arms crossed, eye following you every move. She’d blame it on the hangover if you asked.

“You making that thing with the mushrooms?” she spoke up, nodding toward the bag of veggies.

You grinned. “You say that like it’s not your favorite.”

She tilted her head, looking pleased. “It is. That’s why I asked.”

You got to work, chopping up some onions and garlic, slicing the mushrooms and chicken breast, working at the diner for the past two years had actually rubbed on you, you were a great cook. Ellie pulled herself together enough to start the pasta water. You worked on sync without thinking—passing spices back and forth, bumping elbows, making dumb comments whether the sauce needed more salt.

It felt… easy. Like something you’d done a hundred times before. And maybe you haf.

Dinner was ready before either of you noticed, You plated it quickly, Ellie’s favorite creamy chicken mushroom pasta, handing her a bowl without even asking how much she wanted, because you already knew.

You both sat on the couch, the coffee table your makeshift dining space. Her knees brushed yours. You put on a show, one that you and Ellie had already watched a hundred times, but it eventually became background noise. Neither of you really paying attention to it.

Midway through dinner, you glanced over and caught her already looking at you.

“What?” you asked, blinking at her. “Do I have something on my face?”

Ellie tilted her head, pretending to examine you. “It’s just—” She leaned in, reaching up with her hand, and gently wiped something from the corner of your mouth with her thumb. “—There,” she said softly, not breaking eye contact for even a second.

Then she pulled her hand away and before you could react—licked the sauce off her finger.

Your brain short-circuited.

She returned to her plate like nothing had happened, completely oblivious to the way you stared at her, stunned into stillness. She was chewing quietly, legs folded beneath her on the couch, her hair falling slightly over her eyes as she focused on her food.

Ellie’s heart, however, was going ballistic. What the fuck was that? she thought, eyes glued to her food to avoid looking at you again. She’d just licked sauce off her finger like this was some rom-com dinner date instead of a casual best friends hangout. Her face was burning, but thankfully the soft flicker of the TV and warm glow of the candles you’d lit disguised the flush on her cheeks.

You turned your attention back to the screen in silence, bowl resting in your lap, the warmth of it grounding you just enough to pretend nothing happened. You hit play on the next episode, leaned back into the couch, your knees still lightly brushing hers. You didn’t pull away.

Neither did she.

Your heart was pounding. Loud. Distracting. What is wrong with me? you whispered, only to yourself.

Minutes passed. Comfortable silence again, with occasional comments on the show and the soft clink of utensils against ceramic bowls. But something had shifted—something small, but very real, lingering between you both like static.

Eventually, Ellie glanced at her phone, then at the window. It was dark, and late.

“I should probably head out,” she said, voice a little softer than before.

You looked over at her, nodding slowly. “Shit. I didn’t even realize the time.”

Neither of you moved for a second.

She stood first, gathering your empty plates without being asked and taking them into the kitchen. You followed behind, hands in the pockets of your sweatpants, watching as she rinsed off the dishes and placed them in the sink.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said, drying her hands on a dish towel. You smiled, a little shy now.

“Thanks for coming grocery shopping with me.”

Ellie laughed under her breath, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Text me when you get home?” you asked, more gently.

She looked at you, her eyes soft. “Always.”

You walked her to the door, shoulder brushing hers, both of you pretending not to notice. She stepped out into the hallway, turned to face you again for a brief second, like she might say something more.

But then she just gave you a small, lopsided smile.

“Night, stinky.”

“Night, Els.”

You closed the door behind her and leaned your forehead against it for a moment, exhaling.

God, you were so screwed.

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

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jessiso · 1 day ago

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"No Safe Distance"

A Criminal Minds one-shot | Post Prison Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader.

Assigned as her bodyguard after a stalker threatens her life, a guarded post-prison Spencer Reid fights his growing feelings for her—until danger forces them both to confront what’s been building between them.

cw: angst, past trauma, emotional tension, inner conflict, mentions of death, stalking, potential harm, implied sex

w/c 1,145

...

It had been twenty-six days since Spencer Reid moved into your house.

Twenty-six days since the FBI classified the threats against your life as credible.

Since the messages escalated from cryptic letters to photographs of your every move.

Since they realized the man stalking you wasn’t just obsessed—he was planning something.

And twenty-six days since Spencer had taken the corner bedroom downstairs and barely spoken more than a sentence or two at a time.

You weren’t sure what you expected when they told you an agent would be assigned full-time to keep you safe.

Maybe a well-meaning rookie. Maybe someone fatherly and gentle.

But you got Spencer Reid.

He was quiet. Guarded. So smart it was a little terrifying. And intense in ways you couldn’t quite describe, even now.

His brown eyes missed nothing—every twitch of your hands, every tremor in your voice, every flicker of fear. He noticed. He always noticed.

But he never let you see anything in him.

Not softness. Not kindness. And definitely not affection.

At least, not directly.

The first time you fell asleep on the couch, you woke up tucked in with a blanket.

He denied it.

When you forgot to lock the bathroom door and he nearly kicked it in thinking something had happened—you’d seen something flash in his expression.

Panic. Fury. Relief.

Then it was gone, just like always.

Tonight, the house was too quiet.

The news had reported another woman missing—another woman with long dark hair, just like yours.

You were curled up on the window seat, legs drawn to your chest, trying not to tremble.

The silence felt wrong. Too sharp, too still.

Spencer sat in the living room chair, a book on his lap but his eyes unmoving.

You could feel the tension in the air like electricity, humming between you.

You finally broke. "He’s not going to stop, is he?"

His voice was low and flat. “No.”

That honesty was brutal. No comfort. No false hope.

You stared at him, his frame tense, the muscles in his jaw tight, a vein throbbing in his neck.

You spoke again before you could stop yourself. “Do you think he’s watching me? Right now?”

Spencer’s head snapped up, his gaze sharp as a blade. “Don’t say that.”

“But—”

“He is watching you.” Spencer stood now, walking toward you with a tightly coiled energy that made your heart pound. “He’s studying you. Hunting you. And every time you say things like that, you minimize the danger you’re in.”

You blinked, startled by his intensity. “I’m not minimizing—”

“Yes, you are.” His voice was quieter now but no less fierce. “You think I’m here because I want to be? You think I like sleeping with a gun under my pillow every night and checking every lock twice and keeping my hand on my weapon when you walk past a window?”

There it was. The heat. The buried emotion leaking out in controlled bursts.

Your throat tightened. “You don’t have to stay, you know.”

Something dark flickered in his expression, and before you could take it back, he crossed the room in three steps.

“You think I’d leave you now?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “You think I haven’t already memorized every exit, every deadbolt, every creaking floorboard in this house just in case I need to kill someone for you?”

You swallowed, air thin in your lungs.

Spencer’s hands gripped the edge of the window seat on either side of your thighs. Not touching, but so close.

“You’re not just a case anymore,” he murmured, eyes boring into yours. “That’s the problem.”

Your pulse raced. “Then what am I?”

His jaw flexed. “A mistake.”

The words hit you like ice water. You pulled back, the breath caught in your throat, but he didn’t move away.

“I can’t feel things for you,” Spencer said. “Not now. Not like this.”

“But you do,” you whispered.

He flinched. Just barely. But it was there.

He looked away like the truth burned him.

“I can’t be what you want,” he said. “Not when I wake up every night thinking about solitary confinement. Not when I still jump at the sound of cell doors slamming in my dreams. I’m not whole.”

You reached out before you could second-guess yourself, your hand finding his wrist, fingers curling there. His pulse jumped beneath your touch.

“I don’t need you to be whole,” you said softly. “I just need you to be real with me.”

His eyes closed. A breath escaped him. Then, suddenly, Spencer surged forward, lips crashing against yours in a kiss that felt like breaking glass.

You gasped, shocked at the ferocity of it—at the way his hands found your waist like he was trying to memorize the feel of you.

Dominant. Desperate. Unforgiving.

It was raw and consuming, and he didn’t hold back—didn’t pretend.

You’d kissed men before. But you’d never been claimed.

He pulled away just enough to speak, his voice like thunder. “You don’t understand what you’re asking for.”

“Try me.”

“I’m not gentle. Not with this. Not with you.”

You whispered, “I don’t want gentle.”

Spencer’s hands curled tighter on your hips, eyes dark with something close to agony. “If I let myself have you, even a little, I won’t be able to stop.”

“Then don’t stop.”

Something inside him cracked. You heard it—felt it.

He kissed you again, this time slower but no less intense, and you were pulled down into him like gravity.

His hands slid beneath your thighs and lifted you effortlessly into his lap, pressing you flush against him.

You broke the kiss long enough to whisper against his mouth, “Tell me you want me.”

He groaned, forehead falling to your shoulder.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he whispered. “To care about someone and not be able to save them. I’ve lost people. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But I trust you.”

That stilled him. Entirely. Like those words were sacred. Dangerous.

He leaned back just enough to look into your eyes. “You shouldn’t.”

But he kissed you again anyway.

The night passed in a haze of stolen touches and soft moans.

You never made it to your bed—Spencer carried you to the couch, his hands reverent and possessive all at once.

When he touched you, it was like he was rewriting all the pieces of himself he thought were broken.

He whispered your name like a prayer, like he couldn’t believe it was real.

And when it was over—when your breaths were slowing and your body was molded against his—you felt the shift.

Not just lust.

Not just protection.

Something else. Something scarier.

Spencer’s fingers traced shapes on your back, his voice barely audible.

“I’m going to find him,” he said. “And when I do…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t need to.

You knew.

#fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #reid x reader #dr spencer reid #dr reid

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merrinla · 1 day ago

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Some dialogues reflect whether you've finished the game. The Dread Wolf Rises quest. And also who you've chosen to lead the distraction team and to dismantle the magic wards. Probably earlier after the finale it was possible to complete unfinished quests.

I didn't record them all, just a few. The rest is in the text.

BELLARA

During The Forest of Spirits quest

in-game line Bellara: What they did, the Evanuris? To us? I can never forgive.

Rook: And you got to show them that—right to their faces. Bellara: Right. That's a memory I'm going to treasure.

in-game line Bellara: A third we give to the sky, to share your story with the sun and moon.

Bellara: Feels weird saying that one after everything that's happened. Bellara: Can't blame the rest of the ancient elves for what Elgar'nan did, though.

in-game lines Bellara: Now I have to live my life. For him. For me. And for our people. Rook: They aren't your problem to solve. You need to live for yourself. Bellara: That's true. There's still lots to do. To change.

Bellara: And even with the Evanuris gone, who knows what'll come next?

Romance scene after the prison of regrets. If the player chose Bellara to dismantle the magic wards

Bellara: Like. Thank you. For saving me, I mean. Rook: You're welcome. Bellara: Okay. Good. Bellara: So. Um. With all that. Bellara: Where does that leave us? Romantically, I mean. Bellara: I sort of tried to kill you. Sorry about that. Feels like it could make things awkward.

Option: You weren’t yourself Rook: Venatori had you under a spell. Not really your fault. Bellara: Okay. Fair.

Option: Little thing like that? Rook: Well, you've saved my life lots of times, so I think this one's a freebie. Bellara: Right. Thank you.

Option: You made up for it. Rook: We took down the gods and saved the world. I think you made up for it. Bellara: Oh! Right. Okay.

Bellara: Um... Um... Ugh. Th— The thing is...

in-game lines Bellara: (Sighs) This is hard. Finding the words, I mean. Rook: You can do this.

Bellara: When they... changed me. They told me no one was coming. Bellara: They found the part of my heart that doesn't want to be happy. And they fed it. Bellara: But I had faith. In you. Bellara: Deep down. Past the mask. Bellara: Then you found me. And saved me.

Option: I’ll always find you. Rook: I'll always find you, Bellara. No matter what.

Option: I was so worried. Rook: When you were taken... when I thought I'd lost you... Rook: Don't do that to me again, okay?

Option: Just doing my job. Rook: It's what I'm paid to do.

in-game line Bellara: After everything that's happened. That could happen...

Bellara: Even with the Evanuris gone, we don't know what's coming next. Rook: After what you went through, I'd say a little joy is well-deserved.

in-game lines Bellara: I know. But for now, it's nice. Bellara: After everything we've been through?

Bellara: After being brainwashed by Elgar'nan?

Rook: If I can make you feel that way, just a little, then I'm happy. Bellara: Me too.

Bellara: Rook. I, um. There's something I want to say. That I need to say, after... Rook: What is it? Bellara: I'm sorry. I'm being... it's not important.

Bellara: They made me feel lost. Alone. But part of me didn't believe it. Bellara: That part knew you'd find me. Pull me out of the darkness. And you were there. You're still here.

In the Lighthouse

in-game line about Archive Rook: Don't piss it off. Or accidentally bring back a would-be god.

Bellara: We took care of three of them. What's one more? Rook: Seriously? Bellara: I'm kidding! Mostly. Rook: Well, good luck, then.

Bellara: But we took down a god. More than one god, actually. Bellara: Guess we can say that. Now that it's over. Bellara: We did save the world.

romance line Rook: And I'm glad I saved it with you.

Rook: There was a cost—but we saved the world. Bellara: Right. It did. But we did. Bellara: We'll find Davrin/Harding. I know we will.

if Rook romanced Davrin/Harding Bellara: Rook. You and Davrin/Harding... I mean, I heard the two of you were... Bellara: I'm sorry. We're here for you. All of us. Bellara: Just. Hang in there, okay?

DAVRIN

When Davrin gives the Cauldron quest

Davrin: The Wardens aren't in any shape to deal with this.

EMMRICH

During The Sacrifice of Souls quest

in-game line Hezenkoss: It'll be a relief not to have to deal with those doltish Venatori after this.

Hezenkoss: They've been especially sullen after that eclipse finally stopped.

HARDING

In the Lighthouse after The Heart of the Titan quest

in-game line Rook: So what's next for you?

Harding: I don't know yet. Harding: I'm nowhere close to fully understanding this gift I've been given.

Harding: Now, I was just going to go get a nice warm cup of milk. And maybe a slice of cake. Rook: Cake? I'd be up for some cake. Do we even have cake?

After the Regrets of the Dread Wolf quest. When Rook says that Solas is to blame for what happened to the Titans.

Harding: It's a bit late for that. Harding: I wish we could've talked. Just once. As equals. But maybe he wasn't capable of seeing me that way.

Harding: I wish I could've made him understand what it felt like for the Titans—for us.

LUCANIS

Convo with Zara's corpse

in-game lines Rook: Illario used blood magic to control Spite. How? He's not a mage. Zara: Our risen god gives many gifts.

Rook: Elgar'nan? But he's dead? Zara: The ripples of our actions persist long after the body decays....

During the Inner Demons quest. If Harding led distraction team.

romance line Rook: Harding... Lace. If only you could be real.

Rook: Harding... If only this was real.

During A Murder of Crows quest

Magister Across the Roof: Vengeance for Lusacan! With me, Venatori!

Illario: Killing gods wasn't enough for you, cousin? You need to clean house, too?

NEVE

During A Study of Dock Town quest

Rook: How about this: next time we save the day, the fish is on me. Neve: You want me to bet on suriviving next time?

Romance scene after the prison of regrets. If the player chose Neve to dismantle the magic wards

Neve: Here we are. Rook: You came back. Neve: I had help. Neve: Rook, I... (Laughs) You've got me at a loss. I don't know where to start.

Neve: When we took on the gods, I didn't count on "after." Then there wasn't one. Now there is. Rook: That's a good thing, right? Neve: For now. The breaks don't last forever.

in-game lines Neve: Look, I still can't bet on "after." Not for sure. But I won't live like we're not getting one. Option: I'll always count on tomorrow. Rook: I'll place the bet every time.

Rook: I found you once. I'll always find you. Rook: And I'll face anything with you.

BANTER

in-game lines Bellara: Sometimes, it's easy to forget the ancient elves were mostly regular people, not monster gods. Bellara: And that those regular people were the first to try stopping Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain.

Bellara: Maybe they were cheering us when we wiped that smug smile off of Elgar'nan. Emmrich: One hopes.

COMPANIONS ROOM

Taash: You see the size of that dragon? And we took it down!

If the player chose Davrin to lead distraction team. Previously, Assan could have survived. Audio

Bellara: Assan. I… tried to whittle this. I'm not very good, but I thought, maybe… you'd like it? Assan: (Happy squawk)

Emmrich: I suppose it's time you had another excursion. Emmrich: Perhaps the Necropolis? No. Davrin would want you exploring the wilds. Emmrich: Harding and I will take you a little later. Assan: (Happy squawk)

Harding: My ma always says we never really lose the people we love. We carry them with us. Harding: You'll remember everything he taught you. All the faith he had in you. All of his hopes. And he'll be with you. Assan: (Squawk)

MINRATHOUS

The Viper: We have our city back. Maevaris: Killing gods? That was the easy part. Now the real fight begins.

The Viper: You'll always have allies here.

Tarquin: Saved the city again, huh? You're making a habit of this. Rook: Hey, it wasn't just me. I had help. You were there too. Tarquin: Just doing what anyone would.

If Rook is trans or nonbinary Maevaris: It's been a difficult journey, hasn't it? Maevaris: Keep your head up, Rook. Know you'll always have friends here.

Rook: How are you? Rana Savas: Now that Lusacan—or Elgar'nan? With him gone... Rana Savas: There's a lot of work ahead, but we'll do it.

Elek Tavor: If it isn't the hero of the hour! Rook: I just get an hour? Elek Tavor: What can I say? News moves fast here. But don't worry, I'll remember you.

Marisa: City's in your debt, Rook. The Shadow Dragons won't forget it.

Venatori Deserter: Did you hear? They took down Elgar'nan! It's over! Erasmus: It's never really over. But we can hope.

Cida Ciconia: It's good to have Minrathous back.

Paper Seller: Divine death sentence denied! Minrathous stands! What comes next?

Paper Seller: Victory in Minrathous!

Dock Town Civilian: Minrathous survived. Scam Artist: Wouldn't have bet on that.

Old Dock Hand: If you can survive Lusacan's wrath, you can survive anything. Young Dock Hand: Heh. Maybe.

Civilian: All right. I've changed my mind about the gravy. It does make some things better. Dock Hand: So... tonight? Civilian: Yeah, bring the gravy.

HOSSBER WETLANDS

Antoine: Minrathous is huge! Evka: I prefer it out here. Quieter. Antoine: Lighter. Everything feels lighter...

Rook: Thanks for coming to Minrathous. Evka: Had to see it to the end. If Harding led distraction team Antoine: Harding—she'd be glad you didn't give up. She never does. If Davrin led distraction team Antoine: Davrin, Assan—they'd be proud. Maybe they are. Somewhere.

Mila: The Archdemons are gone.

Mila: So what will the Wardens do? Holden: Hard to say. I thought we'd stick here a little longer. Help Evka, Antoine, and whoever else is around. What do you think? Mila: Yes, obviously. Lavendel needs some stuff rebuilt. Holden: We can help with that. If Davrin led distraction team Mila: And Davrin and Assan. Holden: They fought to keep the rest of us safe. Mila: Do you think they're just lost somewhere? I heard one of Rook's friends talking. Holden: It's hard to say.

Holden: So, that's it for the Archdemons. Holden: If you told me a few years ago that they'd be gone in my lifetime—and in Mila's—I wouldn't have believed it.

Mila: Rook. You got the last Archdemon!Mila: Dad and I threw a party. We even made cake!

Warden Edwin: Without the Archdemon, my dreams have changed. Warden Rue: I'm going to sleep in.

Flynn: The gods, the Archdemons... you stopped them. Flynn: I felt something change. Sensed it. It was strange.

Warden Greta: No more Archdemons. Or blighted gods. Warden Greta: It's incredible. Rook origin Grey Warden Warden Greta: It feels quieter. You feel it, right?

Warden Rhodri: The Archdemons. They're gone. Forever! Warden Rhodri: You really did it.

ARLATHAN FOREST

Irelin: Where'd Morrigan go? Strife: I don't know, and I didn't ask. She wouldn't tell me, anyway. Irelin: Is she always like that? Strife: She seems to enjoy her reputation—and the chance to embellish it. Strife: A mysterious witch of the wild who swept in, helped defeat the gods, then vanished. Irelin: Yeah, well. I still don't think I like her.

Irelin: (Relieved sigh) Is it really over? I'm afraid to let myself feel normal again. Strife: I'm not sure "normal" ever returns, not when your gods tried destroying the world. But... Irelin: We're alive. And they aren't. Strife: And we live to see another day. Irelin: Try "a couple more decades," old man. Strife: Watch yourself, young one.

Amylia: Look who's here! "Rook the god-killer". Rook: I believe the correct plural would be gods. Amylia: Oh, sure, and there's the big head already. Feeling like a hero. Amylia: Well... you go right ahead. As you should. We owe you a lot.

Amylia They actually pulled it off? The gods are gone? Veil Jumper: They'll be telling stories about this for ages. Amylia Hope they remember the part where Quartermaster Amylia kept everyone's bits and bobs nice and sharp.

Veil Jumper: The gods are gone, so why is the forest still unsettled? Veil Jumper: That much dark magic released? It's going to take awhile to simmer down.

Veil Jumper Sentry: The gods are gone. Maybe things will get back to normal around here again.

NECROPOLIS

Vorgoth: GREAT TERRORS LIE IN THE DARK.

During one of the mourn watchers quests

Irritated Venatori: Why are we here when our risen gods are dead? Venatori: That necromancer we talked to said there's power for the taking.

TREVISO

Jacobus: There's so much to do, and you have even more than we do. Good luck.

THE HALL OF VALOR

Mateo: Rook! There you are! I'm gonna set you up with the god-slayer special.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #dav #da video #da datamine #rook #bellara lutare #neve gallus #lace harding #davrin #grey wardens #shadow dragons #veil jumpers #evka and antoine #antoine and evka

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whumpsday · 2 days ago

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Flatline

@medwhumpmay Day 4

Medwhump May Masterlist

content: grief, monster whumpee, referenced terminal illness, caretaking, angst

The night after she watched her best friend die in front of her, she appeared right in front of her door. The ding of the doorbell seemed to drag out, ringing in Caretaker’s ears just like the heart monitor had as she stared at the thing wearing Whumpee’s face.

Because whatever it was, it was certainly not the woman she’d seen flatline less than 24 hours ago.

“Caretaker?” it asked, its voice small and meek like it never was. “Can I come in?”

The doorbell and the flatline sang together, harmonizing in the distance like background music.

“Okay.” She didn’t know why she said it. It came out flat, her words failing to pick any emotion with all the options it had.

“Thank you!” The thing that was not Whumpee strolled into her apartment like it belonged there, far too agile for the frail, skeletal body it had stolen from Whumpee. “I’m really hungry. Can I have something to eat?”

Caretaker nodded in a daze. “Is ramen okay?”

“I love ramen.” It said it like it was reciting a memorized fact, plopping itself down at the kitchen table.

With that, Caretaker got to work, rotely pulling the noodles from the cabinet and starting a pot boiling, two bowls ready and waiting.

She was silent, and the thing followed her lead, waiting pleasant and smiling at the table. It kicked its feet absentmindedly, looking around at her kitchen like it had never seen it before.

“You’re not very good at this,” Caretaker noted. “You could at least try a little harder.”

Not-Whumpee flinched like it had been slapped. “What?”

“I mean, you’re not even acting like her.” She dumped the noodles into the water.

The thing slowly rose from its seat. “Should I go?” it asked, its smile gone now, its voice back to that timid little thing.

Caretaker shrugged. “I’m already making the ramen.”

Just as slowly, Whumpee sat back down. It only had eyes for Caretaker now, its flitting glances gone, quiet again.

She decided to top the bowls with some soft-boiled eggs she had in her fridge, serving Whumpee before sitting down across from it.

Whumpee dove into the bowl, eating ravenously, like it had been starved for weeks. It shoveled the noodles into its mouth, its jaw just a little wider than it should have been. It finished before Caretaker had even taken her first bite.

She shoved her bowl across the table without a word. Whumpee ate that too, just as quick.

“Still hungry?” she asked.

“Yes. Thank you.” Whumpee’s gaze followed her to the fridge. There was a massive beef casserole Whumpee’s parents had loaded off onto her, telling her You’ve done so much and we can’t eat all this food.

She placed it in front of Whumpee, cold. It was gone in seconds.

“What even are you?” Caretaker asked.

Whumpee had the nerve to shrug. “I didn’t kill her,” it defended instead. “Lots of people think I’ve killed whoever it is. I didn’t.”

“I know. She was sick for a long time.” Caretaker took the bowls, clearing the table.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” it added.

Caretaker laughed. She couldn’t help herself. “God, even the monster wearing my friend’s face is saying it.”

“It’s what you’re supposed to say,” Whumpee recited.

“Sure,” she agreed. “You got anywhere to spend the night?”

“Usually I just–” Whumpee cut itself off abruptly, like jerking itself back from a cliff’s edge. “I don’t.”

“Stay here and I’ll make you breakfast in the morning. You usually crashed on the couch.” Caretaker jabbed a thumb at the living room. “You know. Before.”

“That’s true. I did.” Whumpee seemed to roll the words around in its head. “I can really stay?”

“Of course.” Caretaker smiled for the first time in weeks. “You’re my best friend.”

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@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@whuarri

@reborrowing

@paperprinxe

@what-if-i-just-did

Everything taglist:

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#medwhumpmay2025 #whump #writing #caretaking #angst #monster whumpee

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surfeitstar · 2 days ago

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reflections — iwaizumi x reader

ᯓ✦ ๋࣭ ⭑ social media au! (smau)

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

bonus #4 — the breakup 🌀

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

you don’t know how he does it. how hajime can make everything feel okay just by being in the same room.

when he showed up three days ago, you almost cried. not because he flew in from california to surprise you, not because he was there watching all your matches, but because for a moment, you didn’t feel like your whole life was falling apart.

you didn’t tell him about the phone call from your mom. the way your dad signed the divorce papers with a smile. the silence that followed after tooru left for argentina and never really looked back.

you didn’t want to talk about it. fencing was the only thing you felt like you had control over.

hajime was helping. his hand on your lower back before matches. his stupid nutrition reminders. the quiet way he looked at you like you were the whole world.

you were fine, at least you thought you were.

he slips into your changing room five minutes before your semi-finals.

“you’re not supposed to be back here,” you tease, fixing your gear. “you’re going to get kicked out before i even make it to finals.”

he doesn’t smile.

“we need to talk.”

your heart dips, but you laugh it off. “can’t it wait? you know how important this match is—”

“i’m serious.”

you freeze.

and then he says it. five words, so quiet you almost miss them.

“we need to break up.”

you laugh again, but it’s wrong now. “okay. that’s… not funny.”

“i’m not joking.”

you stare at him. the room feels smaller, suffocating. “we were fine this morning,” you whisper in disbelief. “you kissed me. you held my hand. you said i’ve got this—”

“i meant it,” he sighs exasperatedly. “but this… this isn’t right.”

you take a step back, like distance will help you breathe. “what the fuck are you talking about?”

his hands brushes back his hair and his voice begins to shake. “i can’t keep doing this, okay? lying to tooru. going behind his back like this. i feel like shit every time i look him in the eye knowing he doesn’t know.”

“so let’s tell him!” you snap. “tell him we’ve been together for three years, that you love me and that—”

“he won’t forgive me.”

your mouth opens. shuts. “so you’re choosing him over me?”

“no,” he pauses, trying to find the right words. “i’m just trying to do the right thing.”

“the right thing?” your voice cracks, angry tears blurring your vision. “you fly halfway across the world to support me, stand by me during every round, and then dump me right before one of the most important matches of my life? it’s the perfect time to do the right thing now?”

hajime won’t look at you. a part of you knows he can’t look at you. “i knew you wouldn’t understand. i just can’t do this anymore.”

“then why bother coming at all?” your voice is rising, and you can’t stop it. “why say all those things, why hold me last night like nothing was wrong if you didn’t fucking mean it?”

“because i wanted to believe it was okay!” he explodes. “i wanted to pretend that we could keep doing this, but i was lying to myself. i was lying to you.”

his voice is raw now, shaking with something you can’t name.

“this—us—has been killing me.”

your chest caves in.

“the guilt’s been eating at me. you don’t know what it feels like because you don’t even bother thinking about anyone but yourself. haven’t you noticed how it’s been eating away at me? this is the right thing to do. we can’t keep doing this.”

“you don’t mean that,” you whisper. “tell me you don’t mean that.”

“i do. you have no idea what it’s like to be in my shoes, to keep lying to your own best friend like this,” he says it all too fast. “i can’t keep doing this. you’re killing me.”

“fuck you,” your throat tightens. “if you wanted out, you could’ve left me months ago. you could’ve decided to end this years ago before it got serious. not here. not now. not when i needed you the most.”

he doesn’t say anything.

so you keep going, choking on it now. “you don’t even care, do you? i’m falling apart and you don’t even see it. you’re too busy protecting him to notice that i’m drowning.”

he closes his eyes.

you step forward. “haji, look at me.”

he doesn’t.

“hajime, please,” you plead, your voice breaking.

he still doesn’t.

you can’t hold it in anymore. your voice breaks. “please don’t do this, not now.”

he looks at you.

you wish he didn’t. because there’s something final in his eyes. like the decision is already made and it’s killing him, too.

“i’m sorry,” iwaizumi says. you know he means it.

but he turns around and walks out on you. on everything you’ve built with him. he walks away from everything, he walks away from you and doesn’t bother looking back.

you don’t follow. you want to, but you can’t.

you sink onto the bench as the door clicks shut behind him, hands trembling, mouth pressed into your sleeve to muffle the sound of your sobs. your chest hurts. your throat burns. you feel like you’re going to be sick.

your coach bangs on the door. “come on, you’re up soon.”

you wipe your own tears because he’s not here anymore to wipe it for you, and you grab your own helmet because he won’t be here to carry it for you anymore.

most importantly? you walk out like your heart didn’t just shatter into a million pieces.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

fun facts! ❀༉‧₊˚

wait for the next bonus chapter to see just how it affected you

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

taglist ❀༉‧₊˚

@wordsofelie , @loriiiroari , @bbning , @sunny-sailor , @sexylexy12 , @evilari111 , @softtashoney , @rowensboat , @aldebrana , @zuhaeri , @jadeyaps , @mo072806 , @0rangej0e , @curlyhairkk , @iamflav , @forgottensniper , @hashxu , @karinaaanakamura , @tsukisangel , @kozu-chan , @juie13 , @wham-stars , @baggies-of-eggies , @yiooobb37 , @amterasuu , @oneanabillion , @meikstv , @realrintaro , @heyhihellowhatsup , @sophiahearttss , @manaribbons , @nobodybutnnoorr , @mmst4rz , @mistpx , @nscuit , @tojirin , @insbread , @rabbitcola , @rvm1ne , @origamipivo , @rnashkalyy , @lexi2005 , @saiongfs , @choiuikawa , @starrzzworld , @explosionmurdergoddynamite , @nomyimi , @bbyrugou , @shozuken , @iloveiwaizumihajime

previous || m. list || next

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

thanks for reading! all characters belong to haikyuu, all writing belongs to surfeitstar, please do not repost without permission. reblogs are greatly appreciated:) — ©️ 2025

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cupcait777 · 1 day ago

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under the bleachers ⋆˚࿔

what starts with one stolen glance across the soccer field turns into a secret-laced spiral of late-night drives, under-the-bleachers kisses, and the kind of love that makes you reckless. in a town that doesn’t understand girls like them, they find freedom in each other—and maybe something like forever. 𔘓 a/n : ok i used karina as reader's fc and so what.... anw this is my first full blown short fic or whatever so i hope this doesn't flop! like loona 💔

wiskayok’s fall heat hits different.

it’s the kind that sticks to your skin and turns the inside of your cheer uniform into a sauna. the kind that makes the air taste like cut grass, cigarettes, and teenage sweat. the field is alive with motion—cleats tearing into turf, whistles shrieking, the faint echo of coach martinez yelling something about "faster feet, sharper plays."

you’re on the sidelines, wiping a bead of sweat from your temple with the back of your hand. you grin as one of the freshmen nails her jump for the first time, and your voice carries across the field like a chant wrapped in honey.

and that's when natalie scatorccio sees you.

not for the first time. but for the first time like this.

she’s half-listening to tai talk about their busted cassette tape, half-dribbling the ball between her cleats with the kind of bored recklessness that always gets her in trouble. her jersey’s soaked through in patches, sticking to her spine, and there’s a scrape on her elbow from earlier when she wiped out chasing a pass too aggressively.

she hears you laugh before she spots you.

and then she does spot you—and time skips like a scratched record.

you’re light and bright and glittering. not the pastel, clean kind of pretty. no—you’re sunshine with teeth. skirt hitched just right, shoelaces double-knotted, pompom resting against your hip like it belongs there. you’re smiling like someone who’s never had to lie about it.

natalie blinks, heart stuttering like she’s just been tackled.

“nat,” tai says, elbowing her. “ball.”

she doesn’t react in time. the ball slips past her and rolls to the sidelines.

jackie groans. “jesus, scatorccio—can you maybe focus?”

natalie drags her eyes away, curses under her breath, and jogs after the ball. but she can feel you looking now. just a little. enough to heat her face.

⸝⸝⸝

practice drags. coach yells. jackie yells louder.

but natalie can’t shake you.

your laugh. your voice. the tiny glint of rhinestones at the corner of your eye. you’re sharp in ways she’s never been taught to look for. and when practice finally ends, she bolts from the field before jackie can drag her into another lecture about “teamwork” and “commitment” and “not staring at cheerleaders while tai eats shit on defense.”

the sun is low when she lights a cigarette behind the gym. the breeze is warm, the brick wall cool at her back. she closes her eyes, takes a long drag, and breathes out smoke like it’ll steady her nerves.

it doesn’t.

not when footsteps crunch the gravel. not when she hears your voice again, soft and casual.

“you know those kill you, right?”

natalie opens her eyes, cigarette halfway to her mouth. you’re standing there, hair pulled back, skirt still on, one strap of your gym bag slipping from your shoulder. you’ve taken off the glitter, but not the gloss. you look tired, flushed, real.

she lowers the cigarette. smirks.

“you always smile that much,” she says, “or just when people are watching?”

you step closer. “only when yellowjackets fumble passes mid-stare.”

natalie grins. wide, unbothered, wild. the kind of smile that means danger if you’re not careful.

“you got jokes.”

you shrug. “i’m flexible.”

“bet you are,” she mutters under her breath, and your face flushes—whether from the heat or the implication, she doesn’t know. doesn’t care. she likes it.

“you gonna offer me one?” you ask, nodding at the cigarette.

natalie blinks. “you smoke?”

you tilt your head. “you ask all the girls that, or just the ones who sit next to you?”

she pauses. then jerks her chin at the wall. “go on, sit.”

you do. right beside her. not touching—but so close she can count the sparkles still clinging to your lashes. so close she can smell your vanilla perfume and grass and the strawberry-sweet wax on your lips.

there’s a beat of silence. a flick of ash. a breath.

“you gonna go to the game on friday?” she asks, trying to sound casual.

“i’m cheering at it,” you reply, smiling sideways. “you planning to score?”

she taps the ash to the ground. “always do.”

you laugh. and it’s the kind of laugh that gets stuck in her throat. ⸝⸝⸝

that night, natalie doesn’t go home.

she ends up at van’s, lounging in a beanbag chair while tai digs through their vhs stack and van eats gummy worms by the fistful.

“so,” van says slowly, “how long’ve you been into glitter and ponytails?”

natalie rolls her eyes. “i’m not.”

tai laughs. “okay.”

natalie lights another cigarette. “she sat next to me.”

van leans back. “did you talk?”

“she teased me.”

tai whistles low. “dangerous territory, scatorccio.”

natalie stares at the ceiling. “yeah,” she mutters. “i fucking know.”

𔘓 a/n : ok we got some slowburn going awn and nat shamelessly ogling on reader......... lmk if u guys like it! part two ⊹ ࣪ ˖

#natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #x reader #cheerleader!reader #female reader #wlw #natalie x reader

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kysstar · 3 days ago

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NO. 1 PARTY ANTHEM | PARK SEONGHWA

pairing : : park seonghwa x fem!reader

synopsis : : seonghwa’s the guy you always run into when you’re both a little too tipsy and nostalgic. he's that safe danger — the one you know will catch you if you fall... but maybe this time, you don’t want to be caught.

genre : : friends with benefits (?)

warnings : : suggestive: kissing, making out

word count : : 0.4k

[ series masterlist ]

—It’s always the same with Seonghwa. Same kind of night—dim lighting, bass thrumming through your ribs, too many drinks you can’t quite name. And then there he is, standing in the doorway like some kind of cruel coincidence, dressed in all black and smelling like trouble in the most familiar way. His eyes land on you like a bad habit.

You shouldn’t look back. But you always do.

He doesn’t approach right away. He never does. It’s part of the game—the dance you two do when the drinks hit just right and the air feels like velvet. He lets you feel his stare while he chats up other people, while you laugh a little too loud with your friends, pretending you don’t feel him watching. But eventually, you end up in the same corner, at the same time, like gravity doesn’t work properly when he’s around.

You and Seonghwa have never been serious. Not in the way people use that word. You don’t talk about feelings. You don’t do dates. But you always find each other when the city’s too loud and your heart’s too soft. You tell yourself it’s casual. That it means nothing. That this is just what you do when the lights are low and inhibitions are lower.

But he holds you like he doesn’t want to let go. And you kiss him like he’s the only thing keeping you from disappearing.

You end up pressed against the wall in some half-lit hallway, his thigh between yours, his hand skating under the hem of your dress like it has every right to be there. His mouth ghosts over your jaw, not kissing, just threatening to.

“You wore this for me?” he asks, fingers dragging slow patterns on your inner thigh.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” you lie, but your pulse betrays you.

He hums. “Sure.”

Your breath catches when he finally kisses you, mouth hot, possessive. He kisses like he’s got time to kill and wants to waste all of it on you.

You think about stopping it. You always do. But then he’s pulling you closer, tongue brushing your bottom lip, and suddenly you don’t care that you’ll regret this tomorrow.

Tonight, you’ll let yourself be his.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers.

But you don’t.

Because you never do.

And he knows it.

#𝐎𝐑𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 #ateez #park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa #seonghwa #park seonghwa oneshot #seonghwa oneshot #seonghwa ateez #park seonghwa ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez oneshot #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa fanfic

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just-floetcoeur · 1 day ago

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My designs of the Divine Warriors.

Past version + a ver. with evil Shad. Man Shad has changed lol.

I got lazy with Kul’zak’s design. Was sick of drawing armour.

I tried to think up of headcanon lore for them but I don’t have much.

Irene the Matron

Goddess of light, health/healing, life, fertility, abundance, peace and motherhood

Region: Ru’aun, Phoenix Drop

Symbols: The purple spring leaf and unicorns

Song inspiration: “Thought I would be satisfied seeing you content at the other side. But somehow I thought these crazy thoughts that I deserve to be loved, I deserve to know love, we deserve to live in love. I wish there's no end to our time together.”

- Bulbel, Mili

“I’ll take your hand and guide you through all the steps one takes to move on to a place, a world unseen to us all. But it’s okay, we’ll be together, my friend.”

- What Will You Leave Behind (End Titles), Maude Plante-Husaruk & Max LL

“Though I’m about to wreck, you still have your life ahead. All things that lose their way can find it again. There is no inertia in the ocean.”

- Adrift, Stray Gods

Shad the destroyer

God of the Nether, shadows, destruction, death and vengeance

Region: Nether, Falcon Claw

Symbols: Red spears and the wolf

Song inspiration: “There was a boy who shared your bones, your eager blood, your affinity for love. He had it all in his hands and he watched it all turn to sand.”

-Holy the Sea, Forgive Durden

”Could this be the day I have waited for when all my hard work doesn't go ignored? Maybe she was right, they will realize I can change the world, open up their eyes. They know I am more than some eager blood. Not some average bones, I believe in love. I just want to prove I deserve this gift. I will change this world, maybe this is it.”

-Life Is Looking Up, Forgive Durden

“The mind plays tricks, you are confused. The man you seek is long gone, dead and cold, a story told by those he trusted, those he loved, and those who then moved on.”

- I Know Those Eyes / This Man Is Dead, Brandi Burkhardt & Thomas Borchert

“Watch out for the wicked ones who call themselves beloved ones.”

-Holy the Sea, Forgive Durden

”You're a fool to think this princess could ever really love a couple of poor boys like us.”

-The End and the Beginning, Forgive Durden

He and Irene were created as opposites, representing the two sides of the moon. Where there is light, there is darkness. They both need each other to exist but they can never truly love each other.

They basically have Celestia and Luna’s story. Shad hated how Irene was so much more loved. He hated how she bloomed with her divine powers while he thought they were a curse. Because of them, the villagers saw him as a monster. He was tied to the darkness against his will. But just like a moth to the light, he could not look away from her.

“The moon will sing a song for me. I loved you like the sun.”

He thought that by joining the Divine Warriors he’d finally be seen as a hero, that he’d be recognized for his actions. But Irene was always number one. With that resentment already growing, the Divine Warriors betraying him was the thing that unleashed all his rage. He became the Shadow Lord and created the Shadow Knights to kill Irene.

Falconclaw was probably the only village that didn’t see him as an evil divinity (aka worshiping Shad the destroyer and not the Shadow Lord).

On that note, Shad probably hated to be called “the Destroyer”, reinforcing his image as “the bad one”. But he accepted the relic for Irene. “I will make this curse my blessing.”

Esmund the Protector

The only one who doesn’t have an FFXIV equivalent.

God of mountains, ice, guards, law, order and miners

Region: O’khasis

Symbols: The Violet sword and the bear

Song inspiration: “I’m sure that she would care to hear your argument as to how your presence is the reason she is sick. But I suppose it’s in vain, since her life is ending when I thrust this blade into her heart a-thumping.”

-The End and the Beginning, Forgive Durden

(Except Esmund would stab Shad, not Irene)

“Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones, and I will try to fix you.”

-Fix You, Cody Fry

He fucking hates Shad. He copes by saying it’s because he’s evil but he just wants Irene to love him.

Enki the Keeper

God of time, nature, wisdom, knowledge, moon and arcana (magic)

Region: Gal’ruk

Symbols: The blue hourglass and the owl

Song inspiration: “The mountains seceded, the light and dark depleted. We lost Adakias, but regained our science. Our world was finally reunited. So this is my cue, of where to leave you. Now it's your story to retell and pass on because an idea is only relevant if it's being thought upon. So remember, never surrender ‘cause the unrelenting constancy of love and hope will rescue and restore you from any scope.”

-The End and the Beginning, Forgive Durden

“The rest is up to you to do with what you’ll do, to learn and love and laugh ‘til the cycle circles back. I’ll just separate, weigh anchor, disengage, divide and disappear, and see you in the mirror.”

- Genesis, Forgive Durden & Casey Crescenzo

“You really are the chosen one, the calculated sacrifice. Please listen to my last words before I fade away. This is my gift to you: Live for your love every day. Please don't let your tired heart stop beating.”

- The End and the Beginning, Forgive Durden

Enki was also jealous of Irene’s love for Shad but he didn’t feel good betraying Shad. His death was his repayment for what he did.

Kul’zak the Wanderer

God of the stars, wind, wanderers -wandering merchants, bards, rogues, travellers, drifters, …-, freedom and prosperity/money

Symbols: the green walking stick and the elk

Region: Tech’ens

I’m basing off his whole personality of the one and only thing he’s ever said in the whole series: “Imortality? Hm, that doesn’t seem so bad.” So I made him a greedy bastard. Where Irene is the healer and leader, Shad the lancer and dps, Esmund the tank and Enki the support mage, Kul’zak is the rogue. He’s not completely selfish but he’s definitely the most selfish of the Divine Warriors. He helped Enki and Esmund cuz he thought it’d be fun.

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lunajay33 · 3 days ago

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Too Long

•🍒🚬💋🪽•

Summary: Happy and reader always had a flirty relationship but neither ever made a move, when one croweater tries to push up on Happy infront of her she gets possessive and feelings come to light

Pairing: Happy Lowman x f!reader

Includes: 18+, age gap

•Masterlist•

Ever since Happy joined SAMCRO after being a Nomad our flirting has become ten fold, when he would drop in here and there when he was a nomad he’d always check me out, his intimidating eyes roaming every inch of my body, his hands brushing down my spine and gripping my ass

Now that he’s here for good the sexual tension was killing me, on nights where there was parties he always got more courageous with me and I him, grinding on his lap, making out but then we never got farther than that and it’s enough to drive a girl insane with need

I’m not some croweater, Gemma hired me a while back to help with the shop since things were getting so busy she couldn’t handle everything at once alone, but she treated me like her own daughter, always telling me I’m the daughter she never had and soon after the crew took me in as well and now I’m lusting over the Tacoma killer

•

Standing outside the office with Gemma having a smoke break, the guys pull up on there motorcycles, my eyes immediately on Happy, the white shirt under his Kutte enhancing his tanned skin, the tattoos lining his arms, everything about his being had my mouth watering and my panties soaked

“You’re practically eye fucking him darling” Gemma says breaking me from my sexual trance

“I wish he’d actually fuck me, it’s been a year and I’m bursting at the seems” I groan taking a drag of my cigarette

Tigs, Jax and Happy coming over to the shop to start their “shift” my heart racing watching his smirk widen as our eyes meet

“Hey mom!” Jax smiles as he walks into the garage

“Hey lil girl, wear those little shorts just for me?” He asks as he smacks my ass making me whimper like some whore, taking my cigarette from my fingers taking a drag and walking off like he didn’t just practically make me finish on the spot

“Jesus Christ honey you both need to get to it he’s got you acting like a whimper mess, never seen him that playful with a woman before”

“You don’t think I know that, I’ve wanted to be with him from the moment I laid eyes on him but he always stops it”

“There’s a party tonight, you get dressed in the outfit you know Happy will love and you take your man, show him what he’s missing” she smirks like a sly fox

“This better work mother Gemma” I say and we both laugh

•

I change into a pair of short black cut offs showing off the bottom of my ass, a tight black long sleeve, a low cut showing my tits perfectly, pulling my hair into a ponytail, freshening up my makeup and adding jewelry

Spraying my favorite vanilla and cherry perfume on my wrists, behind my ears and around my ankles

If this is all for nothing and I don’t get fucked silly tonight I’m gonna go crazy

•

Walking into the club I straighten my back this is all about confidence and like Gemma said I gotta show him what he’s missing out on

The club was rowdy, in the full swing of their party, drink flowing, music blasting, croweaters acting like usual, biting at any attention they can get

“Well look at you, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re trying to catch someone’s eye” kozik asks me as I sit next to him at the bar, his eyes roaming over me making me laugh

“You’d guess right, I’m just hoping I leave limping” I take a shot of liquid courage and I notice his eyes blown wide

“What?”

“Nothing….im just surprised with how you both act you haven’t messed around already”

“You and me both” I look around the club when my eyes land him, on a leather couch in the corner messing around with some croweater and I feel my blood boil

“You gonna show him what you came here to do?” Kozik pushes

“Damn right” I down another shot and stride with purpose over to them, wringing my hand around the greasy blonde hair pulling her back and pushing her aside

“Get outta here….now” I glare her down as she huffs and walks away, with that out of the way I stare down at Happy, standing between his spread legs

“You’re coming with me” I take his hand and drag him past all the people hollering making my way to his dorm

“Yes ma’am” slamming the door shut I push him back to the bed and push his kutte back, ripping his shirt in half

“Holy shit lil girl, if you wanted me this bad you should’ve said so” he smirks as his hands grip my thighs

“I have been telling you, what only crow eater pussy is up to you standard, you like them dirty and loose, let me show you what a good woman can feel like” I pull off my shirt leaving me bare chested his hands quick to pull off my shorts and thong, feeling the cool metal of his rings trace down my hips back up to my tits making a shudder leave my mouth

“Crow eaters are easy, ain’t no fun, I get off seeing you whimper at just my presence” he groans, the rumble of his voice running through me

“Oh yeah, you like playing games Happy?” I smirk as I unbuckle his pants leaving us both completely bare

“Only with you girl” I drop to my knees infront of him looking up at him through my lashes

“Hmmm maybe I should play my own games” I run my hands up his thighs to his dick standing large and proud, taking him in my hand I painfully slowly drag up and down running my thumb over the head every time I pass it

Hearing his suck in a hissed breath I can’t help but smirk

“Come on girl you’re killing me”

“I’ve waited a year baby, you can wait a moment, I’m having fun seeing you like this” his hand grips my hair making me look at him

“Remember who’s in charge lil girl”

“Oh I remember” I get up pushing him to lay on the bed, straddling his thighs, my hands tracing over the tattoos on his chest

“Fuck you’re dripping” he laughs as he smacks my ass making me moan

“How I’ve been walking around this place for a year as you leave me high and well certainly not dry” I say as I start to gliding back and forth over his dick, his tip bumping over my clit every time making us both moan

“Poor lil pussy needs a good fucking”

“Yeah it does and that’s what I’m gonna do” I sit up guiding him to my entrance slowly sinking down, hitting so deep it knocks the air right out of my lungs

“Look at you girl, already cock drunk” he takes me and spinning us around so I’m laid on the bed with his hovering over me

Lifting my knees to my chest he starts thrusting quickly picking up the pace and I’m immediately screaming his name like it’s a prayer

“Fuck you’re so tight babygirl” he growls into my ear making my skin shiver, his thumb starting to circle my clit

“YES HAPPY RIGHT THERE!” I feel my brain revert back to primal instincts like all that matters right now is him fucking me till I pass out

“You like that lil slut” he takes my legs over his shoulders and I can feel he’s close

“Yes oh god Happy I’m…I’m so close” he takes my face in his hand tightly making me look at him as he kept fucking me over the edge, squeezing him tight as I scream his name, my vision going white soon hearing him growl as he finishes in me, our bodies sweaty and hot as he pulls out and lays next to me

Catching my breath and coming back down from cloud 9 I turn to him and he’s already smirking

“I told you, my pussy beats at those croweaters”

“Shit I like when you’re jealous” he says as he pulls me to his chest

“I’m serious Hap, we’ve dragged this on for long enough, if you want it, I’m the only pussy you get”

“Oh trust me lil girl, this pussy is mine now”

•

Taglist: @mamawiggers1980

#soa happy x reader #happy lowman x you #happy lowman x reader #happy x reader #happy lowman #soa happy #happy soa #happy lowman smut #happy lowman x reader smut #soa tigs #sons of anarchy imagine #soa tig #chibs sons of anarchy #soa jax #sons of anarchy

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rafes-honey · 18 hours ago

Note

will there be a part 3? to the one that got away?

Part three of.. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲 <3

Part one Part two

౨ৎ

The gas station is quiet in that dead way only 1 a.m. understands.

The kind of quiet that sticks to your skin. That turns fluorescent lights into interrogations and silence into white noise. You’re sitting behind the counter, legs curled under you, chin resting in your palm, watching a moth beat itself to death against the ceiling light.

It’s been an hour since your last customer.

Six days since your last text.

And maybe a week since you’ve felt like a real person instead of a placeholder someone friends stop calling when they’ve got enough warm bodies for the boat.

You shift in your seat, blinking at the dark glass of the storefront, at your own faint reflection in it. There’s something brittle in your face tonight. Something tired. You could blame the hours, but you know better. It’s not the job that’s killing you.

It’s everything else.

Your phone buzzes against the counter, a sharp jolt in the stillness. You grab it instinctively, heart thudding

But it’s not him.

Not the one you’ve been waiting for. Just a fucking scam spam number to tell you that you’ve ran a toll (you didn’t.)

You shut the screen off and set it face-down, harder than necessary. Rage has been ironing you for six entire days and it really hurts cause you don’t know why and it’s just making you silt even more.

And that’s when the bell above the door rings.

You barely look up at first. Just shift your eyes enough to see someone walk in tall, golden, reckless energy trailing behind him like a cigarette drag in the wind.

You freeze.

JJ.

He moves like he’s been here a hundred times and knows you’ll still look. And you do.

He’s in a gray tank, shoulders cut like he’s been fighting ghosts. Sweat on his collarbone, a smudge of sand on his forearm. His hair’s damp, unruly. Wind tousled from wherever he came from. Ocean maybe. Hell possibly. Same difference.

He doesn’t speak right away. Just strolls the narrow aisles, pretending to browse. But you can feel it the way his eyes flick toward you every few seconds. The way he moves slower near the snacks. Like he’s drawing it out.

Finally, he steps up to the counter and tosses a bag of Red Vines between you.

“Dinner.”

You don’t even blink. “Gonna give yourself diabetes.”

He grins, and it’s like a solar flare burning a little too bright, hiding something behind the teeth.

“Then I’ll die sweet,” he says, “like a southern boy should.”

You slide the scanner over the bag with a beep.

He doesn’t take it.

He leans on the counter instead, palms spread wide, body dipping slightly toward you just enough to let the scent of salt and summer hit you in the throat.

“Missed seeing you.”

You scoff, but it comes out dry. “Pretty sure you had your hands full.”

He tilts his head, smiling slow. “So you have been thinking about my hands.”

Your stomach tightens.

You look away.

JJ laughs softly. Low. Knowing.

“What do you want, JJ?”

His voice drops a register. “Do I need a reason to come see you?”

“Yes.”

He steps around the counter.

Your breath catches.

“No customers,” he says, moving closer. “Lights half-dead. You looked lonely.”

You force a smile. “Maybe I like it quiet.”

“I know you do.” His voice is velvet now. “Always did like being alone with me.”

You back up, but he follows. Not fast. Not aggressive. Just… deliberate.

You hit the counter behind you. No more space.

He brackets you there, hands planting on either side of your hips, body not touching but close. Close enough to feel the tension drag between your ribs like piano wire.

You don’t look at his mouth.

You absolutely do not.

He leans down, voice brushing your skin.

“You gonna tell me why you’ve been ducking all of us?”

“I’ve been working.”

He hums. “You’ve been hiding.”

“I’ve been tired.”

“Liar,” he says quietly.

And it’s the way he says it. Not teasing. Not cruel. Just… intimate.

Like he knows.

Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“No,” he says. “But I still want one.”

You stare at him. He’s too close. It’s too much. And it’s never enough.

Your voice drops to a whisper. “Why are you doing this?”

He doesn’t answer at first. Just looks at you really looks. His gaze flicks over your mouth. Your jaw. The column of your throat. His breath is shallow now.

Like he’s thinking about it.

Like he wants it.

Like he shouldn’t.

But JJ Maybank was never good at not touching things that burn.

“You look like you need something,” he murmurs.

You swallow. “What do you think I need?”

His mouth hovers near your jaw. “That’s the problem. I don’t think I’d stop if I started guessing.”

Your phone buzzes again.

The spell cracks.

You jerk slightly and reach down to your pocket, flipping the screen over fast.

Just one word lights up:

Rafe 🧸: Outside.

Shit.

… yeah so the total votes on this won’t fully affect the outcome but it could i still got quite a few chapters before the end but so far…

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itdontmatter283472374 · 2 days ago

Text

What are we? Chapter Six

Ok, this one is a little shorter, but next two are both 5k words. I have chapters 7-10 in drafts right now and will post them throughout this week.

Paige woke up to a dull throb behind her eyes and the weight of last night pressing heavy on her chest. The room was quiet, the early morning light filtering through the blinds in thin slits. Azzi was still asleep beside her, curled slightly away, her breathing slow and steady. Paige stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to piece herself back together.

She slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake Azzi, and padded into the common area of their shared suite. The second she stepped into the living room, the smell of coffee hit her—and so did the staring.

Aubrey was stretched out on the couch, spoon in a cereal bowl, while Aaliyah leaned against the counter with her arms crossed. Both of them looked up the moment Paige walked in, hair messy, hoodie zipped only halfway, and last night's makeup still faintly smudged under her eyes.

Aubrey was the first to speak. “Sooo… did you guys, like, sleep-sleep together?”

Paige blinked, hungover and still emotionally scrambled. “Seriously?” she muttered, rubbing her temples as she moved to the fridge, grabbing a water bottle like it might somehow make the whole morning go away.

Aaliyah raised an eyebrow. “We just didn’t expect you to disappear into your room with Azzi and then, you know… stay gone.”

Paige cracked open the bottle and took a long drink. “I don’t even want to talk about it right now,” she said, voice low and hoarse. “My head is killing me.”

Aubrey exchanged a look with Aaliyah but didn’t press. “Alright, alright,” she said lightly, getting up. “I’ve got lift anyway. Catch you guys later.”

She tossed her empty bowl in the sink and disappeared out the door.

Once they were alone, Aaliyah moved to sit beside Paige at the small table, her voice gentler now. “Paige… what’s going on?”

Paige hesitated, staring at the label on her water bottle like it held the answer. Then she let out a slow breath. “Azzi found out,” she said quietly. “About the girls I’ve been hooking up with this semester. She asked, and I told her.”

Aaliyah’s eyes widened a little, but she waited.

“And then…” Paige’s voice caught in her throat. “She told me she slept with a guy. Like, two weeks ago.”

Aaliyah blinked. “Wow. That’s… that’s a lot.”

“Yeah,” Paige murmured. “It is.”

They sat in silence for a beat, the hum of the fridge the only sound between them.

And then, right on cue, the door creaked open.

Azzi stumbled in, hoodie thrown on over her sleep shirt, hair still tousled from bed. She squinted at the light and then spotted Paige across the room.

“We goin’ to get breakfast, P?” she asked, voice rough but soft.

Paige looked up, heart stuttering for a moment.

“Yeah,” she said, standing. “Yeah, let’s go.”

After getting dressed in silence—Paige in a UConn hoodie and joggers, Azzi in an oversized crew neck and leggings—they slipped on sneakers and stepped outside into the cool, gray morning.

Paige held out her hand automatically. “Keys.”

Azzi didn’t argue, just tossed them over. “Don’t crash her.”

“She?” Paige smirked, unlocking the door to Azzi’s car.

The car ride was quiet at first, the kind of quiet where both of them knew the air was heavy but neither had the energy to poke at it yet. SZA played low through the speakers—Drew Barrymore drifting in soft and slow. Paige didn’t mess with the volume. It felt too fitting to change.

She gripped the wheel with one hand, elbow leaned against the window, stealing glances at Azzi every few seconds. Azzi sat curled into the passenger seat, her head tilted slightly toward the window, eyes unfocused. Her hair was pulled back loosely, and she looked tired—but not in the way you look after a long night. More like the kind of tiredness that sleep doesn’t fix.

“You warm enough?” Paige asked, not because she thought Azzi was cold, but because she needed to fill the silence.

Azzi gave a small nod. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Another pause. Paige’s fingers tapped nervously against the steering wheel. She looked over again, just for a second longer than she meant to.

“You keep looking at me,” Azzi said quietly, not accusing, just... noticing.

Paige blinked and focused back on the road. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

SZA shifted into Ghost in the Machine. Paige let out a breath through her nose.

“I just—” Paige started, then stopped. “I don’t know. I can’t really read you this morning.”

Azzi smiled faintly, the kind of smile that doesn’t reach the eyes. “That’s fair.”

Paige pulled into the lot of the little bagel shop tucked next to the laundromat and the UPS store—her go-to spot since freshman year. The neon “OPEN” sign buzzed in the window. She shifted the car into park and turned off the engine, but neither of them moved right away.

“Best bagels in town,” she said, trying for casual, but it came out a little too quiet.

Azzi looked over at her then. Really looked. “You trying to distract me with carbs?”

Paige met her gaze, her throat tight. “Yeah. Is it working?”

Azzi didn’t answer. But she opened the door.

So Paige took that as a maybe.

The smell of fresh bagels and roasted coffee wrapped around them the second they stepped inside. It was warm, cozy—Paige’s usual Saturday morning comfort spot. But today, everything felt off-kilter, like the room was half a beat behind.

They didn’t say much in line. Paige ordered her usual—bacon egg and cheese on an everything bagel, hot sauce, iced coffee. Azzi got a cinnamon raisin with plain cream cheese and tea, even though Paige gave her a look for the cinnamon raisin. Azzi just raised an eyebrow like, Say something, I dare you.

They found a booth in the back, tucked near the window. Paige slid into one side and Azzi into the other, and for a second they just unwrapped their bagels and pretended things were normal. The clatter of other customers filled the silence between them. Paige sipped her coffee, but her appetite was barely there.

Azzi was the first to take a bite, chewing slowly. Paige watched her for a second before setting her sandwich down, wiping her fingers on a napkin.

Then she leaned back against the booth and looked across the table.

“So…” she said, voice low. “You want to talk about it?”

Azzi didn’t look up right away. She traced her finger over the wax paper her bagel had come in, like she was stalling.

“I don’t know,” she said finally. “Do you?”

Paige exhaled, half a laugh, half frustration. “I mean, not really. But also yeah. Because I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Azzi nodded slowly. “Same.”

There was a beat of silence. Not angry, just full.

“I shouldn’t have asked you that,” Azzi said. “Last night. About the girls.”

Paige shook her head. “No. You had every right to ask.”

Azzi looked up. Her eyes were tired, but open now. “It’s not that I didn’t expect you to move on. I just didn’t expect it to hurt like that.”

Paige swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around her cup. “Yeah. Well. It kind of hurt hearing about James too.”

Azzi looked down again. “That wasn’t about you. That was me trying to... forget you.”

“Yeah,” Paige said, barely above a whisper. “Me too.”

Their food sat mostly untouched between them. Outside the window, the street was quiet. Inside, the weight of everything that had been unspoken for too long settled in the space between them.

Paige looked at her again, really looked. “So where does that leave us?”

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She just stared at Paige, something unreadable in her eyes.

Azzi finally broke the silence, her voice steadier than before, but still laced with that raw honesty that always got to Paige.

“I’m still in high school,” she said, setting her tea down carefully. “I’m trying to stay healthy for my senior season in, like, two months. You’re here, experiencing college for the first time, trying to figure yourself out.” She paused. “And I get it. The girls and... everything. I do.”

Paige stayed quiet, listening, feeling the weight of every word settle across the table.

“But if we have feelings for each other,” Azzi continued, her eyes locking with Paige’s, “we can’t keep hurting each other all the time. We’ve got to be honest. With each other. With ourselves.”

Paige nodded slowly, her throat tight. “Yeah. I understand.”

She reached for her coffee, but didn’t drink it. “I just don’t want you thinking the worst of me if you hear stuff next year. Like—if something gets said or blown out of proportion, or someone tries to make it messy. I don’t want that in your head.”

Azzi didn’t interrupt. She just listened.

“And if you decide to pursue James or... whatever makes sense for you,” Paige said, forcing a small smile, “I’ll be happy for you. Really. I want that. Right now just... isn’t our time.”

She let the words settle, then glanced up, a smirk forming at the corner of her mouth.

“But... be honest,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Am I better than James?”

Azzi looked up like Paige had just asked her what planet they were on. “We are not talking about this, Paige.”

Paige laughed under her breath, finally taking a bite of her bagel, the tension between them cracking just a little. Azzi shook her head, biting back a smile as she went back to hers.

They didn’t say anything else for a while.

But something had shifted.

Later that afternoon, the sun had started its slow descent, casting long shadows across the sidewalks and warming the red-brick buildings in that soft, golden-hour kind of way. Azzi stood just outside Paige’s dorm, her overnight bag slung over her shoulder, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands like she wasn’t quite ready to leave.

Paige leaned against the railing by the steps, arms crossed, trying to look casual and completely failing at it.

Azzi glanced toward the parking lot, then back at Paige. “I should probably head out before traffic gets bad.”

“Yeah,” Paige said, voice softer than usual. “I know.”

They stood there for a second, not moving. Just... looking.

“I’m really glad you came,” Paige said finally, her voice a little uneven. “Even if it was kind of intense and weird and... you know, messy.”

Azzi smiled faintly. “It wasn’t that messy.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “You cried. I almost cried. We ate bagels in emotionally-charged silence. That’s pretty textbook messy.”

Azzi laughed, and Paige couldn’t help but grin at the sound.

“But still,” Paige added, pushing off the railing and stepping closer, “it meant a lot. Seeing you. Talking. Even if we’re not figuring everything out right now.”

Azzi nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Same.”

Paige hesitated, then looked up at her, all the bravado gone. “I know things aren’t simple. And I know we’re in different places right now. But I just want you to know... I’m not going anywhere, Az.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the softness in Paige’s voice.

“I don’t care what happens next year or the year after,” Paige continued, a little breathless now. “You’re still one of the best parts of my life. And even if all we get are moments like this—five hours, one night, bagels in a booth—I’ll take it.”

Azzi looked at her for a long second, eyes shining just a little. “You’re sappy as hell, you know that?”

Paige smirked, not denying it. “Only for you.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the smile that crept across her face said everything.

They hugged then, long and tight, the kind of hug that makes time slow down. When they finally pulled apart, Paige let her hand linger for a moment on Azzi’s arm.

“Text me when you get back?” she asked.

“You already know I will.”

“Okay. Good.”

And with that, Azzi turned and started toward her car. Paige watched her the whole way, her heart full in that aching, sweet kind of way.

She didn’t move until Azzi pulled out of the lot and turned the corner.

Even then, she stayed outside a little longer, letting the last bit of sun hit her face, already missing her.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi fics #pazzi #uconn huskies #uconn wbb

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