#bee's insert

[reidmania]

opposites attract | s. reid

summary; spencer would give the world to be your person, even after you argue that you two are too different.

warnings; fem reader, pining!spencer, lowkey pining!reader, bombshell!reader, rejection, reader is described as confident and more of a black cat, insecurities, doubting, a bad date mentioned, happy ending, spencer lowkey gets frustrated, reader has tattoos.

an; messy and switches perspectives whoopsies. Idk how many words, a lot. Too many.

Two years. That was how long Spencer had been a complete and utter mess. Two years since his brain didn’t quite function the same, he remained intelligent, sure, but god so incomplete. Two years since you started at the BAU, two years since he met you.

You were out of his league. He had decided it the moment he laid eyes on you. You were stunning, absolutely perfect in anyones gaze. You were everything he could ever want and more, not just physically. Your laugh, your voice, the way you spoke to everyone around you, gentle, warm. The way you sat quietly in the corner most days, not because you felt out of place, nor shy, not because you didn’t enjoy being there, but just because no matter where in a room you were, your presence was known. Especially to Spencer.

He tried to pretend that he didn’t fall completely in love with you the first time the two of you ever had a conversation and you spoke to him with a smile, listened to him, he tried to pretend the scent of your perfume didn’t make him lightheaded, and the sight of your tattoo that he only saw on occasion’s didn’t make him wonder if you had more, what made you get it, was there meaning?

Spencer wanted to know everything about you, he wanted to live in your brain and know your every like and dislike, what made you smile a little wider, what made you unable to stop laughing, what your favourite drink was, what colour you liked the most, where your family was from, your middle name.

Spencer would stop the world to know you.

That was impossible to hide, even two years later. He tried, so many times to get your attention, to be the subject of your fascination. It didn’t help that every-time you looked in his direction his skin grew ten temperatures too warm and his head spun.

He tried asking you out, twice. Sort of.

The first time was too subtle, too rambling and hidden in the mix of stutters and hot cheeks, fidgeting hands. Because you were looking at him, with a gaze so intense and caring, patient.

How was he ever suppose to talk when you were looking at him like that? Like there was something that made him worth the gravity the warmth in your eyes held.

“Would you date me?” It was blurted out on a Tuesday afternoon, you were standing beside him as the buzz of the bullpen had calmed down, your gaze was focused on reorganising the files on his desk, his gaze was on you. You were reorganising because you didn’t like the way he had done it, and it had been ‘bugging’ you for weeks.

Spencer loved the way his files were organised, but he loved you more.

It was stupid, he didn’t even mean to say it. It was out of place leaving his lips and he knew it the moment your head turned towards him and a sweet laugh left your lips, not mocking him, god you would never. It was a laugh of shock, confusion, maybe even surprise.

“Are you asking me out?” You asked, raising your eyebrow slightly as you met his eyes. His cheeks heated before he could help it, eyes went wide because he had no idea what he was doing.

“What- I- no.” His voice was an octave higher, a tell sign he was nervous, if you needed any more tell signs between the fidgeting of his hands, his bright pink cheeks and his avoidant gaze. You smiled as you shook your head, looking back at the files on his desk, he watched your hand as your ran your finger along them once they were organised neatly, anyone else he might’ve cringed at the sight, but it was you.

“I don’t think so” You had mumbled in response and Spencer felt the world shift into an imbalance. You said it so casually. He didn’t know if his heart was beating too fast or if it was breaking. You turned your head back to look at him, a frown on your lips when you saw the frown that had snuck its way onto his features before he could even realise.

“Not because you aren’t great. Or attractive. You are — You definitely are. I just think we are too different.” You said. His eyebrows knitted together as he met your eyes. He hated the fact you were frowning, he hated the fact he was frowning. He hated what you had just said, god he loved you.

“Right” he didn’t know what to say.

“Spence” You spoke through a warm huff of laughter, shaking your head as you twisted your body to face him fully, your hip leaning against the desk as you crossed your arms over your chest. He watched your hair fall down the sides of your face, over your shoulders. He wondered if you had changed your shampoo since the last time, the only time you had hugged him a few weeks ago, when he had gotten the chance to breath it in, and then it was all he thought about for weeks.

You smiled at him and it was contagious, despite the ache in his chest and overwhelming sense of illness in his stomach, you were smiling. “I think you’re amazing, i always have” you started and his cheeks warmed more. “But we are complete opposite’s.”

He wanted to argue you. Say that he could change and be more like you, more like the guys he had seen pick you up after work, he could be whatever you wanted. He could be someone. Someone to you.

But he didn’t.

That was the last time Spencer had attempted to ask you out, you never bought it up. You never questioned it again, you didn’t push you ask why he wanted to know. Spencer remained sickeningly in love with everything about you, you remained pretending to not notice.

Why were you here? You couldn’t quite remember or find the time to think about it properly between the noise surrounding the fancy restaurant you were in and the sickening long rant the boy in front of you was going on. Something about a business, something about saving it, something egotistical and sickeningly boring.

The date starts out fine. It’s all small talk at first—work, hobbies, the usual pleasantries. But soon, you realize that Mark has a lot to say. About himself. A lot.

“And then I closed the deal,” he says, recounting some work story about how he single-handedly saved his company from financial ruin. He leans back in his chair, smiling like he’s just told you the most fascinating thing in the world. You nod politely, but your mind starts to wander. His voice fades into the background as you think about something else, someone else.

Spencer.

You wonder what he’s doing right now. Probably at home, curled up with a book, or maybe he’s watching a documentary. You can almost picture him, pacing around his apartment, muttering facts to himself about some obscure topic that no one but him finds interesting. But you love that about him. He’s so passionate about everything, even the things that most people would overlook. And he’s never trying to show off. He just loves sharing what he knows.

You try to pay attention to the guy in front of you, you really really do. But god he is so boring. You wonder how quickly you could get one of your friends to come save you from this horror of a date. You wonder how long you would have to hide in the bathroom for before he disappeared.

Mark’s voice pulls you back to reality. “So, what do you think?” he asks.

“Hmm?” You blink, realizing you’ve missed the last five minutes of whatever he was talking about.

“I was saying,” he repeats, a little slower this time, “I just think it’s amazing how people like me can juggle so many things at once. Don’t you think?”

You smile, but it’s strained. “Sure, that’s impressive.”

As the date drags on, you start to notice little things. Like the way Mark talks to the waiter, snapping his fingers for attention, barely looking up from his phone when the waiter brings the food. He doesn’t say thank you. Not once. It’s subtle, but it grates on you. You find yourself cringing, wondering if anyone else notices.

He was much more interesting when he asked you out a few nights ago at a bar, when you were drunk. Why had you agreed? Maybe drunk you saw something sober you didn’t. Or maybe drunk you just saw a male who was conventionally attractive and made you laugh. You wondered how low the bar was

You didn’t have a lot of time to wonder before you heard your name from behind you, your head spun and you almost cried with gratefulness when you saw Penelope standing there, a wide grin on her face, and then Spencer standing beside her, he offered you a gentle shy wave that made your heart warm.

“Oh my gosh! Do you guys want to come sit?” You asked, praying they said yes, praying that Penelope noticed the wide urgent look in your eyes and understood that you were begging. You were genuinely begging for a conversation about anything other than Mark’s biggest accomplishments.

“Oh- We don’t want to interrupt.” Spencer mumbled, looking between you and Mark, the two of you sitting opposite sides of the booth you were in. You noticed the look in Spencer’s eye, you knew what it was. He didn’t want to sit there while you were on a date with someone else. Clearly he misread the urgency in your gaze.

“No! Mark doesn’t mind? Do you mind Mark?” You asked, spinning your head around to face Mark who was confused on the two people and why they were talking to you. Why they had interrupted him. You had to hold back the urge to roll your eyes.

“Uh..” he started, you cut him off. “He doesn’t mind. Come sit.” You shuffled over to make room for the two.

Penelope slides into the booth beside you, while Spencer takes the seat across from you, next to Mark. He looks nervous, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table, but he offers you a small, shy smile.

“What are you guys doing here?” you ask, trying to suppress the excitement bubbling up inside you.

“Oh, we were just nearby, and I figured we’d grab something to eat,” Penelope says.

Spencer fidgets with his napkin, glancing at you, then back at the table. “I-I was telling Penelope about this, uh, documentary I watched the other night. It’s about the history of the subway system in New York. I think you’d really like it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

He nods, his eyes lighting up as he starts to explain. “Yeah, it’s fascinating, actually. They had to navigate all these geological challenges, and the engineering behind it is incredible. I know you mentioned once that you’re interested in architecture, and I thought you might appreciate how they designed the stations.”

You stare at him for a moment, surprised. You don’t even remember telling him that you liked architecture, but he did. And now, here he is, rambling about a documentary he thinks you’d enjoy, not because he’s trying to impress you, but because he genuinely thought you’d find it interesting.

Meanwhile, Mark is looking more and more uncomfortable, clearly not enjoying the conversation. He cuts in, talking over Spencer to launch into another story about himself, but you’re barely listening anymore. Instead, you’re watching Spencer, noticing how different he is from Mark. Spencer, who’s always so considerate, who listens more than he talks, who looks at you like you’re the most important person in the room, even when he’s nervous.

And then there’s Mark, who hasn’t asked you a single question all night, who’s rude to the waiter, and who’s more interested in hearing himself talk than getting to know you.

“I think I might head off..” Mark muttered, clearly annoyed at the fact you had not only been interrupted on your date, but also frustrated that you were paying more attention to Spencer than him. You couldn’t care less.

“Oh okay! Have a good night” You smiled, sickeningly nice as he shuffled his way past Spencer to leave the table. He glanced at you once, not saying anything before he walked away.

“He was an asshole!!” Penelope bursts out into laughter the minute Mark was out of earshot, you immediately joined her laughter while Spencer remained quiet, shuffling around on the now empty side of the booth.

“Those are the type of guys you go out with?” He asked, his voice was quiet, almost offended. You wish you understood why when you stopped laughing at met his gaze. You opened your mouth to talk as the tension around the table grew.

“Hey! Don’t judge!” She gasped out, pointing her finger dramatically at Spencer, clearly not noticing his underlying feelings and why he had even said anything, you did. “It’s slim pickings out here!!”

Spencer hummed, tapping his fingers against the table as he avoided meeting your gaze. You frowned slightly. Soon enough the conversation fell back into rhythm, flowing like it did any other time. They ate, you paid since it was your date. Then Penelope left.

You stood outside of the restaurant, looking around the busy streets. “How are you getting home?” Spencer asked, his gaze meeting yours as you tilted your head upwards to look at him, you couldn’t not smile. It was impossible not to smile around Spencer.

“Uh- Walking. I walked. It’s really not far.” You nodded to support your words as you buried your hands inside the warmth of your pockets. You had been in a state since Spencer had gotten there, a state you couldn’t quite explain. Silently lost in thought, a state of confusion? Maybe realisation.

“I’ll walk you home. Its late.” He said it like it was a no brainer. Like it was the most obvious thing for him to do. No date you had ever been on had offered you walk you home.

Every time Spencer speaks, you feel yourself softening, smiling without even realizing it. His nervous energy, the way he fumbles over his words, it’s all so endearing. He’s not trying to prove anything to you. He just wants to share the things he loves with you, and it’s the sweetest thing.

“Okay.” You breathe out the silent agreement before your feet find rhythm next to Spencer’s as you walk down the street, the post lights causing an orange glow across the ground, across his face.

“Theres a study.” Spencer started, his breathe coming out warm against the cold air causing a fog of steam to follow his breath, you watched it for an moment before your eyes flickered to the side of his face, you’re still walking, his gaze doesn’t meet yours.

“That uh— Shows that opposites attract, it’s more of a theory, since scientifically it doesn’t actually work like that — although negatives are attracted to positives if you’re looking at electricity — but uh- People believe that a lot of people are attracted to people opposite them, because each person offers something the other lacks, making the relationship feel more complete.. Majority of relationships that are built off of opposites work better than people who are too similar because theres more of a balance.. its chaotic but, it uh — it works.”

He was nervous. You could tell. Your breath hitched slightly as he spoke, as he brought it up again. Your mind tried to process the overload of information he had mumbled out. You tried to process it.

“So scientifically we wouldn’t work.” You huffed out. He laughed. Genuinely laugh, it was breathy and quiet but genuine and it made your heart warm.

“Technically— but theoretically—”

You cut him off, a rare occurrence, “I thought you were a science guy.” You mumbled.

He was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “I think I am just a you guy.”

You didn’t know what to say. It was sweet in a way that your brain couldn’t process. He was going against everything he believed to be correct because he wanted you?

“I thought data and statistics are the most reliable source of information.” You mumbled the response, words he had said, probably months ago. Why were you fighting him on this? Why were you fighting yourself on this? You weren’t sure.

“Sure; most of the time. But they are subjective. Especially when talking about psychologically. Each couple, each set of people — they’re different.” He said, his gaze didn’t meet yours. You pulled your eyes away to focus on the street in front of you. You were getting closer to your house, yet part of you wanted to stay right here.

“You think we could work?” You asked. It was a whisper.

He paused, you could see him nod in your peripheral. “I do. I’d make it work, i’d do anything.” Maybe it came out more desperate than he had intended, you found it sweet.

You found him sweet.

“Spencer” you paused your movements and his stopped with yours. His body turned to face you as you looked up at him. His eyes were pleading, desperate, hoping. It almost made your heart ache at the slight fear in them, that you were going to maybe reject him again.

But you found him sweet.

“Id date you.” You answered the question he had asked maybe months ago now, you didn’t realise until now that you had conveniently stopped outside your house. You turned your head to look at the front door before back at Spencer.

“Can i- uh- Will you- I-“ He stuttered and your heart warmed at his nervous attempt to ask you out.

“Yes.” You answered gently, saving him the hassle. Maybe being different was a good thing. Maybe you could beat the statistics that proved otherwise.

Maybe opposites did attract.

[lorelune]

regency au jing yuan how you are haunting me.

(continued here!)

a retired general who at the ripe age of thirty five has never taken a wife. never showed any interest in procuring a spouse nor does he entertain any attempts by the mamas of the ton to throw their eligible children at him. he is a polite scoundrel, kind-hearted in a way that makes those with half a mind question how someone with his demeanor could ever be the famed general who's strategies downed Shuhu during the Abundance Upheaval. he doesn't seem to care for his legacy, as much as he has cultivated one. he doesn't mind gossip, but doesn't entertain it much either.

you only meet him due to fortunate circumstances.

lord Luocha, a successful travelling merchant, pledged patronage to you sometime ago. he keeps you in a little cottage on the grounds of his manor where you're allowed to mostly do as you please as long as there's a new painting hung on the lord's wall every few months or so. the lord likes when you play too. he brings back new instruments for you to try, though he never expects mastery. he has an air of mystery to him that, despite all of the time you spend near him, keeps you from understanding him fully. you aren't one to pry about it either.

lord luocha invites jing yuan over to partake in fancy spirits from a country and city you can't ever hope to visit, let alone find on a map. you bring lord luocha your newest work-- (a meticulously completed oil painting. something more abstract, suited to the odd lonely and isolation you feel in your little, cozy cottage, despite all of the comforts you are afforded)-- and happen upon the pair.

lord luocha examines your newest work with pride, and shortly after introduces you. 'his patron' he calls you, but offers jing yuan no title. you--

(do not have one. it was stripped from you a long time ago. you think being an artist suits you better, anyways.)

jing yuan offers you his name, though you already know it. you recognize him based on the prattling of the girls and boys at the market. they swoon over his stature, fawn over his good deeds, and make note of his identifiable red hair ribbon. he has the same soft, sun-colored eyes that you had heard the eligible young of the ton giggle about.

you bow to him politely.

you have no reason to linger, but luocha calls you to anyways. perhaps he is lonely. perhaps you want him to be lonely, so it gives you a reason to stick closer to his side in the rare moments he is home for more than a day or two. the proximity is shared with jing yuan, who regards you with keen eyes and a lazy smile. the attention upon you feels weighted, important, like you're something special.

you savor it, however fleeting.

perhaps, however, you misunderstood jing yuan. or lord luocha's intentions.

because as jing yuan rises to take his leave and you bow once more, he catches your hand, brings it to his lips, and presses a kiss into the soft skin. you're sure you smell of linseed and yarrow oil. he lingers there for a moment before meeting your gaze. there's a light of mischief in them that sends your heart fluttering. your breath catches.

when jing yuan is out of the manor, lord luocha pats your shoulder gently, "quite the man, isn't he?"

"i suppose... he is."

"you may speak freely."

"i am," you mince, and shake your head. you must be careful, entertaining such fanciful thoughts. "he is... kind."

"and handsome."

"lord luocha," you barely keep yourself from whining. "please, do not tease me. or the poor man. from what i hear, he has enough to deal with."

"the mamas do chase after him like foxes to a hen," lord luocha chuckles and studies your painting once more with a curious tilt of his head. "he'll ask to see you again, i'm certain."

"and why do you say that?"

"general jing yuan has never taken the hand of a potential suitor."

your heart feels heavy and warm in your chest, burning. "my lord, you cannot possibly think that this single action indicates that the general will... call upon me? that is highly unorthodox and i don't believe that's... quite allowed."

"jing yuan has never cared for the dances of decorum." lord luocha guides you into your gardens. the peonies are in bloom, full and lush in the humidity of late spring. "and, for the record, i don't believe he'll simply call upon you. court, properly, certainly."

"you're bluffing."

"what reason do i have to lie?"

"to tease me, as you so enjoy doing," you huff.

lord luocha simply hums and pauses near a bush of lilacs. they're fragrant, at the peak of their season. the scent rolls over you.

"if i truly intended to tease you, i simply would abstain from telling you of jing yuan's interest and allow you to be terribly surprised when he arrives and formally asks for you and your time. consider this a warning. i'll walk you to the modiste tomorrow, hm?"

you want to squawk at him. your linen dresses and tunics are fine (albeit smeared and stained with paints and oils over the years. you rarely bother replacing them.)

you want to protest and pry more, but lord luocha strikes you silent when he breaks off a cluster of lilac and tucks it behind your ear. he leaves you with your thoughts, however tortuous. and, perhaps horribly, you find yourself believing him. perhaps the warm-eyed general really was charmed. perhaps, your dresses needed replacing and you should contact your perfumer friend for a fresh vial or two.

perhaps perhaps perhaps, you can still feel where his lips lingered on your skin, like a brand. you never thought you could ache for burning, but in the gardens, you find yourself clutching your hand to your chest, craving the lick of the his sun's heat once more.

[zivazivc]

I made a Trolls OC because of course I did. She is a bee herder and she's constantly covered in pollen.

[90sbee]

Sometimes a saviour is a soldier afraid of peace

Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

4.4k words. Also on ao3.

He looks at her in quiet admiration.

He doesn’t deserve her. But again, he doesn’t really deserve anything. He already has gotten too much: spoiled by the sweet possibility of life when all his comrades have fallen, their bodies twisted, mangled by titans and enemies alike.

Levi hardly cries, but he wants to cry in that moment. She turns on the stove for him, and rummages through his cabinets. She finds two cups and a sob is trapped inside his throat.

He doesn’t fucking understand why she stays, why she puts up with his sorry ass but, damn it. Damn it if he at least doesn’t try.

The war is over, but the demons still haunt Levi. Luckily for him, the last member of his Squad seems focused on remaining by his side as they both face this new enemy: peace.

This was !!! My first fic written in English, actually. Also my first (and only time so far) writing for aot. Levi is such an angsty angel, and this story wouldn’t leave my head, so I had to end up writing it, ofc. This has been in the drafts for... months. Too many months already. And tbh I'm not a fan of how it came out. But. Posting it in case someone else can enjoy Levi finally getting some love and comfort, sjsjs.

Content: Use of 3rd person pronouns. No use of y/n. Mostly Levi's pov. Reader was part of his Squad. Post!Rumbling Levi. Written with the manga ending in mind. A lot of fluff, rude Levi even if he doesn't mean it (but reader knows he means no harm). Healing. Spooning (Levi as the little spoon btw. He deserves it).

Warnings: depressive thoughts, self confidence issues. Mentions of past violence (but nothing gruesome, it's all in passing). SFW. No beta reader we die like everybody in Aot here.

They always meet. Every single day, she leaves her little flat to find him near the fountain in the Marleyan park, eager to push his wheelchair and pass some time with him.

Levi doesn’t understand. When Onyankopon, or Falco, or Gabi let her take the wheelchair, he just ponders. He could understand why they would accompany him: because he is old? because they feel pity of him?… But her?

Nonetheless, every single afternoon, she comes to him. He doesn’t recall when this custom began. It’s like slowly, but surely, she started digging a place into his routine. She was part of his remaining squad, and he really didn’t see any point to her bubbling-self still being by his side.

Still, he appreciates her visits. She exchanges pleasantries with Gabi, already smiling. Why is she smiling?

“Hi, Captain,” she says. Should he feel mocked? He isn’t a captain anymore and the title feels too much, even if it’s comforting in some way. Levi doesn’t reply. He just nods, silently acknowledging her presence. “Is it okay if we go to the stalls for a while, Captain?” She inquires, as if it was the first time they did it, and not a weekly occurrence. His jaw tenses. He doesn’t understand, still. She surely pities him. She has to.

He agrees to her proposal, though.

“Sure,” he replies, barely any emotion on his face.

She smiles at him. For a moment, they look at each other. She sees that familiar scarred face, a grey eye gazing into her soul. He sees the older face of her remaining squad member, some wrinkles next to her eyes, her figure dressed in green. For some reason, he liked that colour on her.

He doesn’t share that with her, though.

“Let’s get going,” she adds, a little chuckle in her voice — he can hear it — as she starts pushing the wheelchair. They check out the little shops that are already so familiar. Sometimes she signals a piece of jewellery or clothes. She asks for his opinion, or points at a silly artwork, in hopes of making him laugh.

When the cold starts to set in, she stops them in front of a coffee shop.

“Wait here a second, Captain,” she tells him.

“Where would I go, anyway?” He wants to say, snarky, but he doesn’t really bother in opening his mouth. He stays silent still, perking his head up to see what’s she’s doing.

“Oi. coffee?” He complains.

She directs her gaze to him and chuckles, paying the vendor.

“I know you like tea but it’s time to broaden your horizons,” she explains. She comes up to him again, and hands him one of the cups. He sighs, but accepts the drink still.

“What is it this time?”

“Just chocolate. Hot chocolate,” she answers, already sipping hers.  She lets out a content sigh when the warmth of it starts to fill her belly.

“I don’t like chocolate,” Levi mutters under his breath. He is lying and she knows it.

“Tsk. That’s not true. Everybody likes chocolate.”

“… Fine,” he sips his drink and, admittedly, enjoys it. She hands him her drink so she can push the wheelchair again, and he takes it, guarding both cups on his lap, a familiar action for the two of them now.

“Where do we go?” She asks.

Levi shrugs. “As if I had a choice.”

She looks at him still, and when he can see her, barely from his peripheral vision, he sees a softer face. She’s waiting for his reply. He looks at her, looks at her lips. She isn’t smiling anymore. Levi sighs, suddenly feeling guilty.

He doesn’t understand still why she does this for him.

“Captain?” She says, just above a whisper, since there are people around them and they both just want to have a calm evening, without the risk of being recognised.

Levi nods before he even opens his mouth.

“The bridge.”

“Good,” she agrees as he sips from his drink again, guided by her. He does feel warmer. Levi inspects the people around him in silence, letting himself be carried, taken to a nicer place. “Hange would have like this,” he thinks. He looks down to suddenly realise he is clenching his fist, hard. “If you could even call it a hand…”

“We’re here, Captain,” she announces, letting his wheelchair rest next to a bench, overlooking the water. She takes a seat next to him, and Levi hands her the drink. He wonders if she noticed how tense he’s been feeling today.

“Be quick with that, brat, or it will get cold,” he warns, as if to pre-emptively shut down any words from her. He’s not sure he could handle it.

She just nods.

“It’s still warm,” she mentions after a moment.

The sunset is taking its place on the sky, a beautiful palette of oranges and pinks against a very flat horizon. A reminder of what was once lost.

“Good,” he says.

Levi looks at her. She is still looking forward, features illuminated by the falling sun, breeze caressing her face. There is something in his heart that aches, but he doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t dare to. Levi is old, too old, and too broken. And she only pities him.

He coughs to catch her attention, though.

“Hmh, yeah?” She immediately says.

“I heard the Scouts were going back to Paradis tomorrow,” he begins, the question lingering in the air. The small group was leaving first time in the morning.

“Yep.”

Levi blinks, expecting her to say more, but she doesn’t. He doesn’t want to ask. It feels… too much. He feels too exposed doing that, lower lip trembling.

“Are you going?” He finally dares to ask.

She turns back to him again, and looks at him with the sweetest gaze. Levi doesn’t miss how she looks at his lips first.

“I’m not.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have anything there,” she replies, matter-of-factly. Levi wants to hit his head against something, still uncertain about what that means. Does that mean that she has something here? Someone?

She must notice his doubts, so she lowers her gaze. “I mean. You know I lost my family during my first years as a Scout. And knowing that we tried to stop Eren… All the military forces in the island won’t be very happy to see me. Or any of us. I’ve done my part. I do not want more fighting.”

“… Right”. That still doesn’t answer his question, but it is enough to satisfy his curiosity without seeming to eager. He sips his drink again: it’s getting colder.

“You didn’t want to go, Captain?” There it was again, that fucking title that felt like a joke. He chuckles, not looking at her anymore but rather at the sunset.

“Why do you still call me like that?” He spits back.

“Captain?”

“Yeah,” His tone is unintentionally rude, but he can’t help it, not even around her.

“Well… It’s a sign of respect, don’t you think?”

Levi chuckles, amused.

“I never took you for a polite person.” He doesn’t want to look at her still. She hasn’t added anything, said anything else. What is she thinking of?

She looks at him. There’s a warmth in her belly which has nothing to do with the chocolate anymore. She knows: Her Captain has been way more vulnerable and open since the Rumbling. The little gestures that he could so easily hide before are now an open book. Or at least she feels that way, since she was always one to look at him.

It was so easy to just… stare at him. Admire him in every sense of the word, even now. When they were both soldiers they would fight alongside each other, against innumerable dangers. He was barely visible in the spectrum: always so fast, always so precise. A ray of dark hair and strong limbs, destroying everything to provide peace, to provide protection.

There was no point in denying how she felt about him… Except, maybe, to him.

“I don’t think I would like going back to Paradis,” she finally adds, finishing her drink. He seems to reflect on that idea for a moment, before nodding. He wants to ask why but he doesn’t dare to. “I’m just… comfortable here,” she finishes with a sigh. “This is okay.”

“That’s good,” he says, barely a spark of enthusiasm in his voice, but enough for her to notice.

She looks up at him again. And he feels tiny and scared suddenly, because she looks at him with wonder and care. Levi doesn’t mean to, but he ends up letting his drink fall from his hands, whether due to his nervousness or the state of his hand after the war.

“Shit,” he spits, upset.

“Sh, it’s alright, Captain.” In a second she is picking up the cup, handing him a handkerchief to dry his hands. She walks a few steps to throw both cups into a trashcan and is again, by his side. Such a quick interaction so as to ease his shame, he could notice it. “Are you alright?”

Levi still doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why she still treats him with such respect, why she seems to care so much for him. But he wants to find out, somehow. He barely nods, but she notices it.

“Good,” she says, while taking the handkerchief back. She is about to put it into her bag again when she feels a hand grabbing hers.

Levi.

He doesn’t even say anything. He doesn’t know how. She seems to understand, though, squeezing his hand, softly. Levi quickly lets her hand go, his cheeks going red. She gets behind the wheelchair again, as the sun is about to disappear, and Levi can hear her chuckling.

“Let’s get you home, Captain.”

He stays quiet, unsure if he could even say something useful.

There’s so much he doesn’t know how to say. How to do.

While she is pushing his chair he notices it again. A slight tremor in her right hand. “My wrist seems to ache lately… Must be from holding the blades for so many years,” she had explained in passing a couple weeks ago. He realises that it’s probably taking a strain on her to push him every fucking day.

“Oi,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Stop pushing me. I can handle it,” he explains, tone serious.

“Oh, no,” her hand is trembling still. “It’s fine, it’s no bother for me, Captain.”

“… It’s an order,” he commands after a moment. She stops in her tracks and he can hear a gentle laugh coming from behind him.

“It had been a while since that, huh.” Confidently, she places one of her hands on his shoulder, gently tapping it. Levi smiles. Barely curving his lips, but he does. He is about to be brave, hold her hand on his shoulder when she removes it from him. “Shit,” he thinks. “Too slow… Too slow? Slow for what? Tsk.”

Despite his missing fingers, he can still push his wheelchair quite properly. It also helps that he can see his street far ahead. She walks comfortably besides him, a silence and gentle ghost as his most devoted companion.

Yeah. There’s definitely something aching in his chest. He had been noticing the past days, feeling getting more painful as they both approach his place. And it has nothing to do with his faulty joints or damaged body or excessive age.

When they reach his door, she asks for his key. Levi gives it to her, his hand lingering for a second too long, reflecting on the brief touch of hands as she grabs it to unlock the door.

He is tired.

And he feels incredibly silly when he realises he doesn’t want her to leave.

“There we go, Captain. I help you in?” she suggests with a bright smile, opening the door.

“… Yes.”

She steps inside and pushes the chair into his living room, almost getting it next to his couch.

“That’s enough” he decides, in a semblance of independency he still wants to maintain.

She nods. “Okay… I guess… I’ll get going, Captain.”

Levi lifts up his gaze. He wants to ask… He wants to know… He savours her image for a moment, her tired expression and the way her dress now looks clumsy and wrinkled but he doesn’t care. Before, before everything had ended up like this he would remind every single cadet to iron their uniforms, all the outfits presentable, so as to look like respectable soldiers and honourable bodies if the occasion arose. Now she can have the privilege of looking messy. Of not worrying about death so often.

“No,” he mutters.

“Huh?” she inquires, taking a step forward.

“Shit,” Levi thinks. “I… I want tea,” he makes up a quick lie.

“Oh, sure. Yes, Captain.” She leaves her bag on the couch and goes into the kitchen, getting a kettle full of water.

He looks at her in quiet admiration.

He doesn’t deserve her. But again, he doesn’t really deserve anything. He already has gotten too much: spoiled by the sweet possibility of life when all his comrades have fallen, their bodies twisted, mangled by titans and enemies alike.

Levi hardly cries, but he wants to cry in that moment. She turns on the stove for him, and rummages through his cabinets. She finds two cups and a sob is trapped inside his throat.

He doesn’t fucking understand why she stays, why she puts up with his sorry ass but, damn it. Damn it if he at least doesn’t try.

He stands up. His body still holds that ability, though his legs get tired rather quickly. He can still walk, so he does until he reaches the kitchen. She is still deciding on the teas when she sees him.

“Oh, no, Captain, please, just don’t…”

He interrupts her, grabs her waist carelessly and pushes her towards the couch, barely moving her.

“Let me handle it myself.”

“Levi…” She whispers, their faces inches apart.

“Go. Sit,” he mumbles, biting his lips and sending his eyes lower, so as to avoid her face.

“Are you sure?” She inquires a moment after, still close to him. He notices she has a hand on his waist as well, a protective aid making sure he stays on two feet.

“Yes,” he says, more commanding this time. He grabs that hand of hers and pushes her away gently now.

She nods, understandingly.

“I’ll be in the living room,” she adds.

Levi nods at her, making sure she finally gets that ass of hers in the couch. He is now faced with his kitchen. Most of the cups and teas, everything has been moved lower, so as to accommodate to his wheelchair. Slowly, he kneels, searching for a specific flavour for her. When he finally finds the peppermint and rose one, he mentally cheers. He stands up again, slowly, as if to show confidence, making sure from his peripheral view that she isn’t coming to his aid.

She isn’t. He catches her averting her eyes, though. A confirmation that she has been staring.

He decides to stare as well. Supporting himself on his weakened legs, he waits for the kettle to boil, while looking at her. It’s as if she could notice that, because her head doesn’t move, still fixated on an indescriptible point in his living room.

“Oi, what you looking at?” He says, a bit more light-hearted.

A smile forms on her lips before she even turns her head towards him. She doesn’t answer. Just keeps smiling at him.

“Fuck,” he thinks when he realises he has also slightly curved his lips.

Quickly he turns towards the stove, the kettle already boiling. Levi carefully fills the cups with water, letting the leaves rest. He lifts his gaze up to her for a second but it is already enough for her to notice.

“Need help with the cups?” Her, always so worried, so in tune with his needs. No need for words.

“Of fucking course.”

Still, the only answer he gives her is a polite nod. She stands up, approaching him.

“I’ll handle it, Captain. Just take a seat.”

He lets out a sigh, taking himself to the couch and plopping himself there.

“It’s hard,” Levi thinks as he sees her come back to the living room, two cups in her hands. He accepts the drink, his gaze not leaving her features. “I… I can’t.”

He knows he can’t accept kindness: he doesn’t know how to. Still, he tenses his jaw and forces himself to sip the tea as she takes a seat next to him.

“Peppermint, huh?” She hums mostly to herself.

 “… Yeah,” comes out of his mouth, unsure, less braver than expected. Is he insecure? Has he made a mistake?

“Good choice” She declares and he breathes again, realising that he had been holding his breath. “Bet you already knew that, right?” She adds, cocking her head.

Levi looks at her again. He has been avoiding her eyes but he hadn’t been trained as a soldier to back down in times of peace.

“I did,” he says, his tone firm, a very weak attempt at showing confidence still. “It’s the one you would always ask for when we would have meetings with the Scouts.”

“It’s good tea.” Her tone seems softer now.

Levi hums, too deep inside his mind to notice it.

She wonders. Wonders if he has ever realized that the only reason she would wander through the headquarters late at night was just to be found and reprimanded by him, the way she would be easily entertained by Levi’s stern face. Wondered if Hange had ever told him about the time she had fallen asleep in their office and woke up, mumbling his name, much to Hange’s delight, though they had promised to keep it a secret.

He looks down at his legs, at his carpeted floor.

He wonders if she had ever noticed the way he would mindlessly lick his lips after looking at her, the boring uniform suddenly a beautiful outfit, making her stand out. Wonders if it was too late to tell her that, yes, after Hange and her had found him, and stitched him up, that he had heard every single word she had uttered near his heart, softly pressing her timid hands on his chest. There hadn’t been time then to discuss anything or even think if it had meant anything else than old scouts being protective of each other, but now…

They finish their teas in silence. It isn’t uncomfortable, rather the opposite, despite the fact that Levi has started nervously tapping his feet against the floor. It is dark outside already, the light from the lamps flowing into Levi’s house, a dog barking a few blocks away.

She stands up, makes sure to wash her cup in the sink and put it away before returning to him.

“Captain?” She mutters. No need for more words.

Levi hands her the cup with slow movements, as if trying to prolong that insignificant action for as long as possible. And when she is already about to head into the kitchen, little plate and teacup in her hand, he decides to be brave. No more lying to himself, no more being a coward. Too many people have died, have bleed, have sacrificed the little they had for a selected group of survivors to be able to live. To enjoy the remaining Earth. For the little ones that survived to be able to find some meaning. Something worth all the pain.

Basking in the fear serves no one. In fact, makes all the death meaningless.

So, Levi looks up at her and grabs her hand, even if he is scared still. Trembling fingers dancing on hers until they secure her hand softly in his. He feels warm even if he doesn’t know what to say, how to convey what he feels. Such a shadow of the man he was. So stupid now.

Levi just wants her to say.

She gasps at the contact but quickly composes herself. A shy smile showing up on her face. They stay like that for a moment, neither daring to break the silence.

“Levi?” She asks after a moment, moving closer to his face, as if asking for permission.

He can only look at her lips in reply.

She shortens the distance between them and kisses him on his lips. It isn’t a big kiss, too flashy or provocative: just a tender contact between two broken people. As soon as he has processed what was going on, she has already moved forward, pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

And then, even higher, another kiss on his forehead, her lips remaining close to his face. Levi can’t say anything. Barely reacting. But when she looks at his eyes, she is greeted by the sweet glimmer of tears in them.

Levi. Happy, at last.

And as if reading his mind, she utters: “Do you want me to stay, Levi?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

She complies. In the quiet, late hours of the night, Levi wakes up, his body feeling too rested already. It was a habit hard to break, he wouldn’t sleep much anyway. He sighs still, feeling her body pressing against his, holding him from behind. She has one hand on his shoulder, the other keeping him safe and secured, hugging his waist close. He dares to smile and grab that hand across his belly with both of his hands, so as to make sure that it is real: he is being held. There is someone else with him. Levi isn’t alone. Someone is taking care of him. Someone he’s been devoted to for so many years.

He wants to nuzzle up closer, hide in her chest or neck and feel more.

But he doesn’t dare to. He can’t allow himself to do that yet. 

So he stays awake in silence, hearing the soothing and steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Levi still doesn’t understand, though.

He doesn’t want to think of why she has chosen him, how he got this privilege so late in his life, when all hope seems to be lost and the thought of a partner didn’t cross his mind at all. He also doesn’t know what to do with this gift, this blessing. Why? How? He is such a crippled shadow of what he used to be. Slow, so consumed by roughness and violence and so useless now.

He has always had something to fight for: his life, his friends, his Squad, Erwin, Hange. Yet since the Rumbling he has just… fallen behind. He is just existing and it seems like his body has finally caught up to his age: no longer agile and strong, but a weakened man, finally leaving the survival mode that has characterised every single aspect of his life. He doesn’t have any goals or dreams now. Everything had been slowly trampled down like the titans destroying all land and all life.

He shivers, remembering that day and holds her hand tighter.

Once he had completed the promise made to Erwin, his last order, he had nothing more. No more commands. No more slaying titans.

Just existing.

He doesn’t want that. He has been a fighter, a rebel, a monster his whole life. He only knew of endurance and compliance with the spirit of life, of resistance. He doesn’t know of anything else: the calmness, the quietness, the routine walks and just reading books and sitting on his porch… That is not him. That isn’t life. Being able to choose things for himself, devour life gently and enjoy it instead of painfully trying to keep it close, to grip it between calloused fingers… Peace isn’t familiar.

He has nothing to devote himself to, nothing to prove or fight for.

“Yeah,” he thinks. “Everything is… meaningless… Or it was.”

He closes his eyes, relinquishing himself in the warm body against his.

Some things… Some things have meaning still.

Her.

The way she would scrunch her nose when laughing or buy him drinks or attempt to make him laugh or wear that damn stupid wrinkled dress and — “Fuck. I know her so much by now…”

She had been a Scout too. She had fought and devoted her heart and did everything a Scout had to do. She had fulfilled her duty in the same way he did. She has survived and she doesn’t regret a single thing. Not even this life.

She is at peace.

He wants to sob.

He doesn’t understand peace. Sure, it was his goal, what he always dreamed of, but, damn it. Levi had never thought he would actually get to see something resembling it. Unlike her. She understood what it was: she has accepted peace with open arms and a smile that — fuck, somehow— has been shining on her face throughout the years. Despite so much pain and death…  She still allows herself to fucking live in peace. She forgave herself for the death, for the pain and crimes and let go.

He isn’t sure if he can do the same.

Peace is foreign, strange even. An oddity. And he isn’t stupid, he knows that time would run up someday and that things would turn against them for a second time.

But, still, the promise of the rest of his life in peace lingers.

He could have it.

He fucking could.

Levi reflects on those thoughts for a moment, silent still.

He thinks he can get to an agreement. Maybe, when she wakes up in the morning, he can try to spill his soul to her a little. Try to understand how she handles this life, how she can get up in the mornings after killing so much, and just have tea with him.

But for now, in the quietness of the night, as the old warrior he was, he does the only thing he knows: he promises to dedicate his heart once more.

He finally has a reason, a purpose, something worth protecting again.

Levi lifts his hand, crossing it on his chest the way all Scouts would do. But he doesn’t press it on his heart, but rather, moves it to hold her hand, the one resting on his shoulder. He squeezes it gently, suddenly feeling too overwhelmed by her. By the silent love she had been proclaiming to him all these years and that he couldn’t reciprocate before.

Yes. Now it is the time.

Levi would dedicate his heart once more.

To her and only her.

That may have been the cheesiest ending ever written but !!!! He deserves it, I know. Also someone stop me before I write for Hange, the feelings got to me indeed. Dividers by @/cafekitsune @/saradika and @/vase-of-lilies

[bee-central]

Its been one million years but a funny thought occurred to me the other day

[beecanons]

idk if you’ve done this already but how the mlp characters would react to reader having a panic attack?

have no mlp hc so far! going with main six from fsim

Twilight Sparkle when the reader has a panic attack

a bit taken ack at first she's used to being the one having panic attacks due to stress not used to seeing others panic too much

thankfully though, because of this, she knows plenty of tips to help she'll make a mental list of things to try help you calm down

starts with breathing and counting getting your breathing on track is a top priority and counting is a pretty useful trick could be counting your breathing or taking deep breaths while counting anything else

if your thoughts are a mess and spiraling she'll try helping you rationalize giving reason to irratic thoughts can also help someone relax reassurance is one of the best ways to ease worries

if you want a hug afterwards, she'd be more than happy to give you one with a wing over you too

she'll ask if theres anything she can do to help you feel safe and tries not to overwhelm you with anything

Rarity when the reader has a panic attack

she's very quick to try and console you

she'll see you start to panic and take you aside to help you get a hang of your breathing if youre anywhere near a crowd, loud space or other ponies in general she'll take you aside to the closest spot thats quieter or offer to go on a walk with you so that you arent overwhelmed and find it easier to calm down and focus on breathing

she'll offer words of affirmation and something textured you like if you need it

rarity will gladly set things aside to help you relax possibly even close the boutique early and either take you on a spa day or style your mane while giving you some affirmation and reassurance

she'll attempt at quelling your irrational thoughts and/or doubts by reasoning with them and attempting a bit of humor pinkie may have rubbed off on her a bit, she picked up more of the "cheer up through a laugh" approach because of pinkie

you will get a lot of her big sister side she more than likely helped sweetiebelle out with her own panics especially before the cutie mark crusaters so she would probably default to her gentle older sister tone ever now and then while consoling you

Pinkie Pie when the reader has a panic attack

at first will just tell you "hey its okay" and possibly say something on accident that might make your panic worse depending what you panic over she's not the best at reading people or 'reading the room' when it comes to things outside her usual domain of expertise

if it persists (and it likely will), she'll be unsure what to do and feel bad until she gets an idea

might give you either a paper bag or more probable a balloon to help you focus your breathing somewhere you might end up just making balloons with her if this trick really helps you

pinkie will try and distract you from the scary thoughts anyway she can she'll find a way to make you laugh, make faces or tell jokes she'll ask you about your interests she'll offer to tell you about her day, about gummy or share a silly story or even ask you about your day to recount how it went before the panic attack

she'll offer to let you hold gummy if he's close by and if you think that might help

if you have any comfort food or like sweets and eating might help in any way you better expect pinkie to be getting you some snacks

Rainbow Dash when the reader has a panic attack

rainbow will bring you a cloud, or multiple if youre a pegasus, she'll either get you to fly around, through or up to clouds with her or bring the fluffiest one she ca find over to you if you cant or dont want to fly if youre a unicorn and youre able to, you could use twilight's spell for walking on clouds and get to play with a cloud she brings over if not she can just bring you enough clouds to give you a cool mist

she might try creating a small cool breaze for you with her wings she's not sure if it'll help or anything but she'll try

she'll try distracting you by showing off some tricks maybe even attempt another sonic rainboom just for you

early seasons dash would have brushed it off, told you everythings fine, that youre overthinking and need to just "be cool" but later seasons dash does less of that and would be a little more compassionate she'll try hard to come up with things that might help but she'll still argue that some of your thoughts are just you overthinking

pretty quick to be realistic about a situation if youre panicked over a test or an event she'll tell you you'll do fine and you'll breaze past it, even tell you the jist of what you'll expect so youre prepared on top of being realistic she can be really reassuring if she tries

she knows what its like to panic over a crowd or competition she can have some pretty good tips that she's learned instead of stalling and avoiding like using your imagination to make things less scary and intimidating

Apple Jack when the reader has a panic attack

aj is the most likely to offer to just talk things through, aside from fluttershy she'll help you face what's causing you to panic and listen to you get it off your chest she knows talking about your thoughts out loud can help you see how irrational they might be and make it easier to disprove them

aj will give you reassurance and reasoning but also any advice you might need now or for future panic attacks

she'll get you to count something like "how many apples is a bushel?....and how many can fit in a pie?" while youre taking some deep breaths

if taking a walk or stretching your legs helps she'll offer to walk it out with you, maybe while you talk or she'll offer to go for a run around the orchard with you to help get the panic energy out

will get you a cold glass of apple juice if you'd like

might even give you her hat untill you feel better

Fluttershy when the reader has a panic attack

she will ask any animals of your preference if theyre okay with you petting them especially if petting something soft helps you relax

if you'd like she can ask birds to sing a song and you two can just sit quietly and listen

fluttershy will gladly offer hugs and forehead bonks

she's an amazing listener and her soft and quiet approach can be really comforting

she knows what its like to be overwhelmed and often has panic attacks herself especially related to social anxiety she she'll offer to try any of the tricks and things that normally help her

she will try to offer reassurance and reasoning after listening to you however shes much better at offering reassurance than reasoning

if counting helps she'll get you to count critters with her taking deep breaths and counting all the critters around the area or her place or even just count breaths alongside you

she knows the best quiet spots to relax and get way from stressors around ponyville she'll take you to the closest one if youre okay with walking she'll even tell you all about the animals and plants around that spot

if you need a distraction she's got tonnes of animal facts to share

theres a small chance to get early seasons fluttershy to sing or just humm if that might help later seasons fluttershy is more confident and will even sing alongside birds if you ask for music

this turned out to be a pretty long post!

i hope these headcanons are alright!

reminder to check out my pinned post for my byf/dni and wills/wonts before sending a request!

[larabar]

rouge >>>>>>>>

[finalgirlbee]

ummmm hi im reuploading these old doodles because im thinking about him again....... i wanna b silly with him <333333

[jello-library]

Okay, You Ready?

Omg thank you for 110 notes on my last art post! I didn’t think it would reach that many people but it did! ❤️ Thank you for all the encouraging words! Curse tumblr for shooting the photo quality on sight🥲

This also is a redrew from a scene from bee and puppycat! If you didn’t notice and it’s one of my favorite shows!

Also another ver w/o the stars

[heartfullofleeches]

Hello hello my birthday is tomorrow I was wondering if I could perhaps ask for some birthday hcs with your yandere bee from the cafe? Like how darlings birthday would be celebrated?

[Hope these are to your liking. Writing these reminded me of how much I love Robbie/Honey they're such a trip. Happy birthday, Chief!]

"Happy birthday, Sunny! Congrats on another trip around the sun. I know it's pretty late, but open this one present and I'll let you go back to sleep - kay?"

• Honey is the type of bee to wake you up at the stroke of midnight - excitedly hugging their alarm clock until the second the day technically begins. Every minute should be celebrated in their eyes. They're also the type to start the celebration a few days early - paying for everything you buy that week (they do this anyway, but if you thank them they'll say "Don't thank me - it's for your birthday!), warning folks they'd better be extra nice to you because your "big day" is coming up, taking care of your half of the chores-

• Their first gift to you on your big day is a flower crown (fake flowers if you're allergic) It's a tradition in their family plus they just think you look so cute in one. If using real flowers they waste the time waiting for midnight by weaving the crown then so it's fresh as possible when they put it on you. They have a sash for you too, but they understand if you don't want it.

If it's also the first birthday you're spending together this is likely when Honey gifts you a key to your own apartment in their complex. [Mother gifted them the entire building on their 18th birthday] They could've given it to you before, but then you'd have less of a reason to spend in their home. The cameras they set up in your apartment make up for the nights you want to spend alone.

• It's either a fancy dinner and a homemade cake, or a homemade dinner and a fancy cake. Regardless, you'll be well taken care of as Honey loves cooking/baking in their spare time. It's a struggle for them to make plans - do they spoil you with a night out or make you something from the heart? They might ask for your preference on the matter as best as they can without spoiling too much.

"This totally isn't related to anything I'm doing - but if you had to choose, which would you like more? Me cooking your favorite meal or us going out? No wrong answers, this time!"

• Birthday Kisses - y'know that thing where people punch someone for every year they've been alive? Honey does that, but with smooches for you. They smother you with love all the time, but those kisses are special (mostly because they find it fun to try and sneak kisses)

• At the end of the day, your birthday is as big for them as it for you. It's the day their favorite person came into the world - their sunshine. How can they not spoil you rotten for pulling them out of the depressive state they've been in majority of their life? They're so lucky to have you - and will do anything to prove how much you mean to them.

[reidmania]

a moment | s. reid

summary: two times there was a ‘moment’ between you and spencer, and one time he did something about it.

warnings; best friends to lovers, fem reader, pinning, this based off a lorelai and luke edit i saw, idk if its edited or makes any sense tbh!! sorry! longing, kinda self doubt idk, happy ending yay!!

an; this is for lia. And was written in like an hour so i really dont want the hate guys. If it sucks i cannot be held responsible.

You walk into the bullpen, scanning the usual chaos of the bullpen The day’s already running long, and it’s barely even noon.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Spencer says, glancing up from his desk. His eyes are sharp behind his glasses, but there’s a smirk tugging at his lips. He’s half-hidden behind a wall of case files, as always, but somehow manages to throw his snark with precision.

you and spencer had been best friends since you started together, you got along with anyone but gravitated towards Spencer more than anyone else. Him and Penelope were the easiest for you to be around, you loved everyone but you had your favourites.

While Penelope had been bugging you to either kick up the courage to do something about your friendship with Spencer, or move on, you did neither.

"Oh, save it,," you fire back, tossing your bag on your desk. "I’m fashionably late. It’s a thing."

"Yeah, fashionably late in a profession like this. Very chic. Theres other ways to get here you know — from your house-“

“Don’t even” you cut him off.

“Im just saying if you keep missing the same turn off every time maybe it’s a sign you should be going a different way.” He muttered.

“I didn’t miss the turn off.” You argued. You lied.

“You did.”

“No”

He said your name and you huffed.

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin as you sink into your chair. "Can we pretend, just for today, that you’re not right?"

"Well," Spencer says, leaning back in his chair, "I’m only right about ninety-seven percent of the time. So, technically, you’ve got a three percent chance of being right today. Want to take a gamble?"

You throw a crumpled paper at him. "Your math is annoying."

He catches it, eyes twinkling, and throws it back at you. "Annoying?"

“Yes, annoying. It hurts my head”

It’s easy between the two of you—this banter, this back-and-forth. It always has been, ever since the first case you worked together. Over time, it’s become second nature to tease him, push his buttons, and he always gives it right back. The tension slips away with every joke, but today, there’s something different about the way his eyes linger on you a beat too long, like he’s waiting for you to catch on.

You ignore it. You have to.

"So, what do we have?" you ask, holding out your hand for the file in his lap.

He passes it to you, fingers brushing against yours. It’s brief, but the touch sends a spark up your arm. Your eyes meet for a second longer than necessary, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t know what to say.

Spencer clears his throat, looking back down at the file. "This unsub’s a real charmer. I think he's using manipulation tactics to lure his victims. He’s got a pattern, but it’s subtle. Took me a while to piece it together."

"Took you a while? So, like... five minutes?" You grin, but the edge in your voice is gone, replaced by something softer.

He laughs, a sound that always surprises you because it’s rare, but so genuine. "Try thirty. It was a real struggle."

"Wow. I almost feel bad for you."

His smile fades just a little, and when he looks at you again, there’s that shift. Something hovers between you, just under the surface, where the teasing usually stays. His eyes flicker over your face, and suddenly, you wonder if he’s about to say something else, something that would cross the line you’ve never acknowledged before.

Your heart skips, and before you can stop yourself, you lean forward a little. Your breath catches.

"So..." Spencer starts, but before the sentence can land, your phone buzzes on your desk. The sharp sound breaks the moment like a snapped thread. You jerk back, grabbing your phone.

"Hotch needs us in the conference room," you mutter, more to yourself than him, trying to get a grip on the swirling thoughts in your head. "We’ve got a lead."

Spencer blinks, clearly shaken out of whatever that was, and you stand up quickly, focusing hard on the case and not on the fact that you were about two seconds away from… what? Leaning in? Kissing him?

No. That’s not what this is. This is Spencer.

"Race you to the conference room?" he asks suddenly, the playful lilt back in his voice, but there’s still something lingering behind his eyes, a question neither of you seems ready to ask.

"Race? You’re literally taller than me, that’s cheating. I’m wearing heels!!"

"You can run in heels, can’t you?" He shoots you a smirk, the tension easing just enough for you to relax, even if your heart is still racing.

"Could. But i don't want to damage my gorgeous shoes," you huffed, yet already heading for the door.

"Gorgeous shoes?" He repeated, raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah that was actually the name of the shoes when i bought them. They had 'gorgeous shoes' written in big letters across the box." You smiled, tilting your head.

"Really?"

"No."

You make it halfway to the conference room before he catches up, the two of you slipping back into your usual rhythm. But as you walk into the room side by side, the unspoken thing still hangs between you. You don’t talk about it, and maybe you never will, but it’s there.

“Are you still coming over tonight?” He asked, looking down at you, eyes lingering on yours. You nod.

“It’s pizza night. Of course I am.”

And once again, you’re reminded that with Spencer, things have never been as simple as just best friends.

You’re standing in Spencer’s tiny kitchen, flour everywhere. And when you say everywhere, you mean it—on the counters, in your hair, smeared on his cheek where you definitely didn’t mean to slap him with dough earlier.

“This is going really well,” you deadpan, holding up the limp, misshapen pizza dough.

“Um.” He squints as he looks at the mess.

“Well.. you’re the genius who can outsmart anyone but apparently can’t figure out yeast,” you argue, pinning the blame on him. “Is it supposed to look like this?” You muttered, tilting your head.

“I think it’s fighting back. Maybe we’re the victims now.”

You both dissolve into laughter, the kind that makes your stomach hurt. This was supposed to be simple. Homemade pizza sounded like a cute idea, something easy to do on a night off, but it’s turned into chaos. The dough’s not cooperating, the sauce might be too watery, and you’re pretty sure you added way too much garlic. But that’s what makes it fun.

"Okay," Spencer says, hands raised in surrender. "I officially give up. This dough has outsmarted me."

"You’re giving up? Dr Spencer Reid, defeated by pizza dough?" You snatch the rolling pin from him, trying to take over, but the second you press down, the dough tears. "Okay, maybe it’s smarter than both of us."

Spencer steps closer, leaning over your shoulder to inspect the mess you've made. You can feel the warmth of him behind you, and for just a second, everything feels different. The banter pauses. His breath is soft on your neck, his arm brushing against yours as he reaches to touch the dough. Your heart stutters, and you freeze, unsure of what to do next.

But then, with no warning, Spencer flicks flour at you.

"Hey!" you squeal, spinning around to face him, eyes wide. He looks so pleased with himself, a mischievous grin on his face.

"What? You had flour in your hair. I was just trying to help.”

"Sure, you were." You reach for the bag of flour, holding it up threateningly. "I will not hesitate to make this a war, Spencer."

He grins widely, almost daringly.

You grab a handful of flour and toss it at him in retaliation. "You are such a child."

“I’m just helping!” he protests, dodging your attack and grabbing the rolling pin like a shield. His laughter is contagious, and soon you’re both caught up in it, the tension slipping away into something lighter, easier.

You try to swipe more flour at him, but he grabs your wrist, stopping you mid-throw. His fingers wrap around your wrist gently, but the touch sends an unexpected shiver up your arm. You both freeze, the room suddenly too quiet again, his hand lingering on yours for just a second longer than necessary.

His gaze flickers down to where his fingers rest against your skin, and then back up to meet your eyes. There’s a pause, just long enough for the air between you to thicken, something unspoken hanging between you. His thumb brushes your wrist lightly, and you wonder if he feels it too—the tension that’s been simmering all night, just beneath the surface.

You swallow hard, pulling your hand away, but not before you catch the briefest flicker of something in his expression. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and just like that, the moment slips away.

His eyes narrow playfully, and for a second, you think he might call your bluff. But instead, he just chuckles and steps back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Let’s not escalate this. We’re adults, after all."

"Adults who can’t make pizza," you mutter, dumping the ruined dough into the trash. "Guess we’ll have to order in. Again."

Spencer wipes his hands on a towel, still smiling. "I’ll let you pick the place this time. As long as it’s not that one with the weird crust you made us try last month."

"Oh come on, that was a bold choice! You just have no sense of adventure."

"I have a very good sense of adventure," he says, leaning casually against the counter, his eyes sparkling in that way that makes you feel like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. "I just like my pizza to taste like pizza."

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning, too. "Fine. We’ll get the boring pizza this time."

As you both settle into the living room, waiting for the pizza to arrive, you can't help but feel that lingering tension again. The kind that sneaks up on you when things get quiet, when the laughter dies down, and it’s just the two of you sitting side by side, closer than necessary.

You smile, nudging him with your elbow. "Who knew you were such a terrible cook, though?"

"I think we share equal blame here."

"Maybe," you admit, glancing at him. His eyes catch yours, and for just a moment, the playful air between you shifts. It’s small, like the brush of his hand earlier, like the way he’s looking at you now. Your heart skips again, and you wonder—just for a second—if maybe, possibly, you weren’t imagining it. You ignore it, there was too much that could go wrong if you didn’t.

It’s late in the afternoon when you hear the knock at your door. The sun's still out, casting a soft golden light through your living room windows, but it’s the last thing on your mind.

You’re dressed in something more put together than usual because, of course, Penelope had insisted on setting you up on this date tonight. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but she’d been so enthusiastic that you’d caved. You’d said yes to humor her, to get her off your back.

She had insisted that you needed something to get your mind off Spencer. You wondered if that was actually possible.

So when the knock comes, your stomach churns, thinking it might be the guy arriving too early. But when you open the door, it's not your date.

It’s Spencer.

He’s standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, hair slightly disheveled, and there’s a look on his face you can’t quite place. It’s tight, maybe a little frustrated, though he's trying hard to keep his expression neutral.

“Spence?” You lean against the doorframe, arching an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away, eyes scanning you briefly before he looks down, then back up again. There’s tension in his posture, the kind you recognize when he’s overthinking something. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.”

You don’t buy it for a second. “Uh-huh.”

His face tightens even more, though he tries to hide it with a half-hearted shrug. “Did Penelope set you up with some guy?”

“Yeah?” You squinted trying to figure out how he knew that. You hadn’t mentioned it, you didn’t want to talk about what had caused your sudden date or have to lie to him about why Penelope suddenly set you up when you have shown no intention of being interested in dating.

“Penelope told me. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, running his hand through his hair as if he was stressed. You didn’t understand, not really. You told Spencer everything so you could understand why he would be annoyed that you didn’t tell him this, but it seemed as if he took it personally.

You squint at him, crossing your arms. “What is your issue? You look like you want to strangle someone.”

He lets out a huff, avoiding your eyes again. “It’s nothing.”

You tilt your head, studying him. There’s something under the surface, and you’re not about to let it go. “Well you’re here so, obviously its not nothing … What’s going on?”

He finally looks up at you, his eyes sharp and filled with something you haven’t seen before. It catches you off guard for a moment. “It’s just—there was a moment.”

You blink, thrown by the sudden shift. “A moment?”

His voice drops, a little rougher now, a little more real. “Last week. When we were making pizza, and the week before that— and during- there was a moment.”

Your heart skips. You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you stay silent, letting him continue.

“I thought there was a moment,” he says, his frustration starting to leak through his words now. “I thought maybe something was… happening.”

Your chest tightens, the air in the room shifting as you meet his eyes. “There was.”

The confession comes out of your mouth before you even realize it, and the tension between you two spikes instantly, filling the space with an electric charge. You can feel it, the way everything has changed with those two words.

Spencer just stares at you, his brow furrowing slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to admit it. He takes a step forward, you step back almost unconsciously, and your heart beats faster in your chest.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice low, unsure.

He doesn’t stop moving, closing the gap between you even more, and his voice is soft but firm when he speaks. “Will you just stand still for a minute?”

Before you can say anything, before you can even process what’s happening, his hand comes up to cup the side of your face, and his lips are on yours.

The kiss is soft at first, almost tentative, but it’s full of all the unspoken things that have been building between you for so long. You feel the world tilt, your hands instinctively moving to grip the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. For a second, everything else fades away—your date, the case, everything.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you just stare at each other. His thumb brushes lightly across your cheek, and his eyes search yours, full of something that feels too big to name.

Neither of you says anything for a long moment, the silence thick and heavy with everything that’s just shifted between you.

Then, as if in slow motion, you take a small step forward. It’s your turn now, the tables flipped, and you can see the surprise flicker in his eyes as he instinctively steps back.

“What are you doing?” he asks, echoing your earlier words, his voice low and a little breathless

You give him a small smile, feeling the tension twist tighter in your chest. “Will you just stand still for a minute?” You mirrored his words

His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t move, and before he can say another word, you close the space between you and kiss him again.

This time, it’s different. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. The kiss is deeper, more insistent, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. It’s like everything you’ve both been holding back is finally breaking free, all the tension and the unspoken feelings rushing to the surface.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily, faces inches from each other. Your hands are still gripping the front of his jacket, his fingers still digging into your sides like he’s afraid to let go.

You don’t move, neither of you do. You just stay there, staring at each other, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not thinking about the job, or the cases, or anything else. It’s just him.

He’s the first to break the silence, his voice quiet and almost disbelieving, He exhales, a long, relieved breath, his hand still resting on your waist. “I thought maybe I was imagining it.”

You shake your head, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. “No. You weren’t imagining it.”

Another beat of silence passes, and then his lips quirk up into that small, crooked smile you’ve always liked so much. “Well, I guess we have Penelope to thank for this.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling back. “Yeah, and she doesn’t even know it.”

His thumb brushes your side, a subtle touch, but enough to send a shiver up your spine. “Are you… still going on that date?”

The question hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, you almost laugh. The idea of leaving now, of going out with some guy Penelope set you up with, feels absurd.

“No,” you say, your voice steady and certain. “I’m not.”

His smile widens, just a little. “Good.”

You grin up at him, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “Yeah? Why’s that good?”

Spencer’s gaze softens, and for the first time, you see the real reason for his frustration, for all of this. He steps even closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his voice low and sincere.

“Because, there was a moment.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you meet his eyes, that familiar warmth spreading through you again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, his lips ghosting yours, and the last bit of tension that’s been sitting between you melts away completely. He smiles, and before either of you can say anything else, he closes the gap and kisses you again.

[bashzzey]

Friendly fire for @beebundt >:3c Got so silly idea for the attack xD poor ENAKO LOLL she didn't behave well so Medena had to resort to different solution KSDJGHS

[sorsabruh]

Accidental cuddle..

[...both of them fell asleep during a movie and the aftermath looked like that. Ehm. Giggles]

ANNDDD a little bit of the next day..

HIIHIIHII Bee is so drawable I luv him sm

For context, that is my sona and Earthspark Bumblebee's holoform. They have a student-teacher relationship, everything between them is completely platonic. (At least from Bee's side, that is. Sam though.. mm not likely😇, but it's totally one sided)

Thanks for reading !! Love ya'll !! *dies*

[sleepyfan-blog]

Rotten Hope (2)

Author’s note: Part two of the Typhus x Reader fics. I blame you all for the botflies that have spawned because of this.  this 4,595 words long. Why has this man infested my brain so much? HELP Previous

Tagged: @ms--lobotomy @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: dubious consent, attempted seduction, forced marriage (In that Typhus decides that you and him are married now), body horror, tentacles, oviposition, SMUT, mild cumflation, demon bees, please ask me to tag anything that makes you uncomfortable that I missed

Summary: You are brought to Typhus the traveler, herald of Nurgle, to speak with him. You get far more than what you bargained for. 

You could keenly sense Typhus' presence upon this world. The powerful deamon marine of nurgle wasn't bothering to hide nor dim his curdling presence to your senses as you left the space port where your ship had been docked. Your ship - what used to be your ship - was a swift vessel that did have enough ammunition to defend itself against most pirates and would be attackers. Not that they could fend off the full might of a Gloriana class vessel, Her speed could fly circles around the much larger but slower vessel. You were also hoping that they would be focused on the suffering and agonizing souls were being ravaged by the plague, rather than a single vessel of healthy, un-touched souls. 

As you make your way through the streets of the city, you watch as the plague marines and cultists go from door to door, bearing bowls of horrific looking and smelling liquid that bubbled and glorped unpleasantly. the ragged, sickly and confused mortals peering blearily at them, falling to their knees and thankful for the stew given to them, drinking gratefully as the foul substance seemed to soothe the ragged edges of madness that was part of the dreadful blight that had taken so many of the mortals of this world. You look away, focusing on moving through the streets of the city, hearing the grateful murmurings of the mortals around you, tears falling from your eyes as you knew that the horrid stew that they were gratefully drinking would bind them to the Plaguefather.

Ah... But you'd been the one to bring these bastards here. You'd been so relieved to have found an Astartes, you'd forgotten to check if he was chaos-tainted or not, having forgotten that not all of them followed the will of their creator in your desperate search for any kind of help... And you'd found help, as the violent madness did seem to fade from the minds of the afflicted as you carefully move across barricades, still in your hazmat suit, silently hoping that the uninfected mortals realized that Plague Marines had come to this world and they had ways to flee this world, this system before they were caught and either killed painfully or turned to Nurgle's side. 

You knew that you'd been spotted hours ago, and stopped at the edge of the barricade that had been set up by the Death Guard and their accompanying cultists, despair and misery pulling at your heart as you see that the healthy mortals were being stripped of their protective gear and dragged across the barrier one at a time, being taken to where Typhus was. You swallow down the desire to flee, to hide. He knew you were on this world. You had no safe way off of this world, and if you willingly revealed your presence, perhaps you could have the remaining healthy mortals spared from the predations of the plague-ridden neverborn. You walk up to two of the guards as they glare down at the trembling, weeping mortals and call out as bravely as you can manage out "Excuse me -" Your eyes flicker over the corroded metal and twisted heraldry that both of the plague marines were wearing, searching for any clue as to what either of their ranks were. Aha! You spotted it, under the grime and muck "Sergeant, but I need to speak with your first captain, he is expecting me."

The Death Guard on the left leaned on his scythe a little, looking you up and down "The first captain won't see anyone in clothes like that, it's rude. He also said that he gave the one he's looking for a certain phrase to prove themself to be the eternal blossom he seeks?"

You swallow hard as you reach up and take off your helmet, doing your best to keep eye contact with the large marine, ignoring the horrified gasps from the mortals around you. 

"No! Lady Trader, do not-" One of the scientists pleaded, running towards you and breaking the line that they'd been put in, trying to reach for your helmet.

Two of the cultists rushed the scientist who'd grabbed you and hauled them back into line, giggling madly "Now, now, don't be impatient! Grandfather is happy to bless all of you, you just need to be patient!"

"He said... He said that Typhus asked me, little Isha, to come to him while our minds touched one another." You respond, doing your best to keep your voice as even and confident as you can manage. Your grip on the hazmat helmet is tight, but you hope that they don't notice that.

Both Death Guards grin - their fused facial plates splitting open into needle-sharp maws with dozens of spiraling rows of teeth, and the mouths on their bellies opening up and laughing raucously "So he did, little blossom! Remove the rest of your protective coverings and one of our brothers will bring you to the Herald."

You nod, stripping out of the rest of the hazmat suit as quickly as you could force yourself to move, now dressed in the shirt, shorts and shoes you'd picked specifically because it would get very warm in the hazmat suit if you dressed too warmly. It was early spring in this hemisphere and in the blood-red dawn of day it was chilly, causing you to shake and shiver in the cold. "I have done as you asked."

"Darsas! Eleghra, the eternal flower has revealed herself at the gate and is prepared to meet Older Brother." One of the guards calls out.

Moments later, two massive, mutated plague marines walk up to you, one of them on each of your sides and pick you up bodily, walking you into the secondary area. You're set down before a half-dozen Nurglite cultists who begin to frisk you for weapons - as if you could physically stand up to the might of a standard marine, much less a favored chaos marine of one of the Four - before saying "She is ready to see The Herald."

You are physically picked up and carried over to a large, grimy tent where a massive marine is partially bent over a large table, speaking with the plague riddled governor and highest-ranking nobles of the half-dozen worlds under siege of  this awful plague, each of the latter looking terrified and resigned. All of them look stunned to see you - and that you are whole and healthy, especially in the grasp of a plague marine. You should be in paroxysms of pain, gasping and spluttering as the infested flies that buzz around their supernaturally fucked up bodies devour from the inside out. 

Despite his helmet hiding whatever facial expressions he might be making, you could feel the satisfaction and delight that Typhus oozes as his gaze falls upon you, dangled in the grasp of two of his brothers. "Excellent! I was hoping that you wouldn't be stubborn nor skittish, little Isha-"

At that... Petname? Lord Alleg'fel spluttered, his abhuman (not Eldar) pointed ears twitching a little, dark eyes widening in horror "L...Little what?"

"Mmm, I am surprised that you are unaware of the eternal flower in your midst. Such beings tend to be shy and hide themselves well, unless forced out into the open." Typhus purrs "While she is able to die, her soul returns to her mortal form swiftly, unable to truly die. She is blessed with psykery and an eternally youthful body. This lovely, shy flower was hidden amongst your worlds. Grandfather blessed me with her near location and we created this plague to bring all of you into Grandfather's loving embrace... And to bring her out of hiding. Grandfather noted that I had been... Lonely, wishing for a companion similar to the companionship He enjoys with Grandmother, and pointed us in this lovely flower's direction. You are dismissed. My little flower and I need to... Talk... Privately."

Slow burning horror and guilt would have caused you to crumple to the ground, despair and fury hitting you moments later. You'd done your best to stay out of the greater Game that was being played between The Four and Neoth, and had thought that you'd been largely successful. You hadn't realized that all of this was to trap you in one place, so that... What? You'd become a plaything for the favored pawn of Nurgle? As if you were going to lay down and meekly take whatever awful horrors he was going to do to you. A low, furious growl left your chest as your eyes began to flash the bright shining blue of warpcraft, your hands beginning to crackle with the power you'd long since learned to master, your voice booming with fury "IF YOU THINK-" you started to yell, the eldritch lightning sparking around your form painful enough to cause the two plague marines to drop you to the ground. You land on your feet, hissing wordlessly, ready to fight to your death over and over again.

But Typhus cut off your words "Come now, you asked for my help, little flower, and I have given it. Besides, I even ensured that the plague that ravaged these worlds did not affect the mortals you are closest to, despite them being exposed to it."

Horror hit you, cooling your fury like a deluge of ice on a lava flow "What.... What do you mean?"

"Come now, did you really think that mundane methods of infection prevention can actually stop one of Grandfather's plagues? Surely you're more clever - or at least not that naive, my lovely flower. Although it would be very cute if you are. they live healthy and untainted as a favor to you." Typhus crooned, all but teleporting in front of you. One of his massive, clawed hands cups your cheek. The stench of death and decay is nearly overpowering and makes you want to gag. It is not helped by the undercurrent of honey-sweetness that is, strangely enough, part of his scent as well as overripe fruit. "But if you try to fight me or my little brothers, I will remove that protection from them. I have brought an entire fleet with me. Your cute little ship cannot hope to escape my brothers in the void above us."

Despair and failure rip the fight out of you, and your eyes shine with tears. But you do know how to play coy, to bat your eyelashes. You can feel the desire and want radiating off of this chaos-twisted monster, and you desperately hope that you can use that to your advantage somehow. Which is why you lean into his touch, despite internally shuddering at that, locking your mental shields tight, so as to keep your emotions from the younger psyker. "Please don't harm my crew... they are as innocent of my nature as the mortals in these worlds, Lord Typhus. I..." You do not want to, but the false apology will likely stroke his ego "Apologize for lashing out earlier."

"Mmm, I expected at least a little bit of bite and fury, my lovely Rose. Of course you have your own thorns. You merely needed to be reminded not to prick your beloved's brothers when in a pretty little temper." Typhus purrs, giving a silent signal to his brothers, who swiftly cleared the tent of anyone else. "You're so used to hiding and escaping... To have your true nature revealed would cause a fit of pique... As long as that doesn't happen again, I am willing to forgive you easily enough."

"I... I'll try... Would you please let my ship full of mortals leave without becoming ill? they are wanderers by nature and to trap them in one place would be cruel beyond words, my lord." You plea, batting your eyelashes up at him.

"Wouldn't you rather have them with you, my lovely flower? For you will be at my side now and for always. Won't you miss them if they are far from you?" Typhus coos down at you as he scoops you up and sets you down on the table, pressing in close to you as he does so. "When I found out that you're a rogue trader, I was rather expecting to you to be dressed in fine clothes, with pretty little gems accenting your lovely features..."

"Such things are not...uhm... Exactly reasonable to wear, especially in the protective clothing I was wearing over this, my lord. And I did not want to worry the mortals by wearing something... So flashy?" You offer, peeking up at h i m coquettishly, tilting your head a little before looking down "Besides... All of that artifice is... Tiring at times, not to mention ephemeral. And I'd rather my mortals be happy, if away from me, than at my side and unhappy."

"How sweet of you, my lovely rose... And I do like how simply you are dressed. It makes unwrapping you much easier. You are mine, as Isha belongs to my grandfather. We will become one, and you will be my pretty little wife." Typhus purrs, pressing you down on the table. You could hear something creak and shift in his armor before four tentacles slide out from hatches in his armor, each curling into part of your pants and ripping them off of you, as a fifth slid up between your legs and the tip rubbed against your core.

You gasp and squirm, trying to close your legs and shift away from the strange sensation, turning your head away from him as your face and neck burned in a blush that was revealed by more tugging tendrils to be a flush that spread down your chest and across your breasts "L-Lord T-Typhus! Does... Do... Right now? On a table? Is this... Is there somewhere more comfortable to... To..." You can't bring yourself to say the words that burned like acid in your mind.

"hmm? Would you like me to carry you to a bed, to ravish you properly, my pretty little flower? Is that what you'd like? I'll admit, that was my initial plan, but your sweet flirtation and compliance so far has worn away my patience. I try to emulate grandfather, but patience is not my strongest suit." Typhus purrs. You see him pull his face plat off, his face half rotted near to bone as he gives you a crushing, dominating kiss that tastes of over ripe fruit and dangerously sweet honey. When he pulls away from you, allowing you to catch your breath, you see that the sting of saliva that connects you to him has a golden tinge. "I could be... Convinced to take you for our first time together on a bed... But you'll need to do something for me, first."

You hadn't expected the bastard to be a talented kisser, nor to stir up long-suppressed wants. You blink up at him, feeling surprisingly hazy and warm from the kiss "What.. What is it, lord?" You ask, not having to feign the breathiness in your voice from the kiss. 

"For you to taste a mouthful of the honey that my bees create. Considering your reaction to just the slightest taste of it, I suspect that you will enjoy more of it. But I get to share it so rarely with others, and my little darlings have plenty to spare." Typhus purrs, his hands lightly squeezing your upper thighs as he effortlessly pulls your legs away from one another. 

You hate how much that casual display of strength turns you on, and the wetness that starts to drip from your core at that. It's been... A long time since you'd masturbated, and you hadn't had sex in... At least a century? Perhaps longer. "H...Honey?" You manage out, trying to focus. 

 The smug bastard definitely noticed, from the pleased hum and the smirk he's giving you with what remains of his lips -  and he rubs one of his tentacles more firmly against your entrance "Are you certain you want to wait that long? You're already dripping for me~! And this table should be sturdy enough for me to fuck you properly on. I'd also be happy to feed you a mouthful of my honey either way."

"I... haah! Oh! Please... Hnngh..." You start to say, groaning as one of the tentacles that had been content to hold your arms down slid over and began teasing and squeezing one of your breasts, flicking it with the tip of the squirming appendage. His stench was overpoweringly awful, but somehow that did not help you focus through the embarrassing amount of lust coursing through your system. 

"Mmm? Please what, my cute little wife? Please take you now, on the table? Or would you rather I carry you to bed, holding you close as my tendrils work you open to receive me? There may be others out and about as I take you to a nearby bed, precious flower of mine. Not that I mind others knowing for a fact that you are mine and mine alone to tease and pleasure in such a way." Typhus rumbles, the sneaky bastard's hands coming up to cheekily squeeze your ass cheeks.

You’d rather not be paraded around naked for who knows how long it takes him to find a bed for all to see… But the table is hard and deeply uncomfortable as it digs into your back. “Honey please, my lord. I… Would I have to be seen by others like this, on the way to bed, sir?” You’re gambling on what his likely kinks might be, from what you’ve observed of other marines throughout your centuries of life. “Wouldn’t you rather be the only one to see me like this… Shivering and wanting for you and you alone, my lord?” You spread your legs a little, hooking your ankles around his hips as best as you can, pulling him in closer, one hand coming up to caress the tentacles teasing your breasts, making it difficult for you to think. But not impossible.

His gaze nearly scorches you with the intensity at which he looks at you, before a dark chuckle rumbles through his chest and he pulls you in close, giving you another searing, breath-stealing kiss. “You are correct, my lovely rose. Now open up, let me feed you my honey.” His four of tentacles have shifted, wrapping around your back, arms and legs to keep you in place, while the fifth keeps rubbing and teasing your entrance and clit, sending waves of guilt-laced pleasure shuddering through your body.

Obediently you open your mouth wide, going “Ahhh~!” as if you’re eagerly anticipating whatever foul substance he’s calling honey is being fed to you. Even if the substance kills you, it won’t kill you for very long.

A smaller tendril, several shades lighter in color than the others comes out from his body and presses it’s way into your mouth, and he orders “close your mouth around this and swallow once your mouth is full.”

A thick, sticky substance quickly fills your mouth, and you let out a little sound of surprise as you swiftly close your lips around the appendage, swallowing as much of it down as you could. Still, you could feel some of the surprisingly sweet and delicious substance trickle out of the corners of your mouth. The appendage in your mouth flexes and slides deeper, causing you to let out a muffled sound of surprise - the cry getting louder as the tendril teasing your entrance abruptly slid deep and fast into your core, as your walls fluttered and squeezed around the breech helplessly “Mmm-Hmmm!” You garble out around the tendril.

Typhus chuckles, his glowing red eyes dark with lust “That’s it, gorgeous, you like the taste of my honey, don’t you? Take another mouthful, and try not to spell my cutely messy little wife.” He accentuated his words with a thrust of the tentacle inside your spread open cunt. You really hoped his cock was the size of the tentacle shoving itself deep inside of you. You can’t imagine being able to take anything bigger. 

Shamefully, the nod you give him when he asks if you liked his honey is entirely truthful, and you can’t help the needy whines that leave you when the tentacle filling your pussy slowly slides out of you, your walls achingly empty. You can taste another gush of warp-infused honey fill your mouth, which you do manage to swallow all of this time. The tendril in your mouth retreats to merely pressing against your lips. Hazy warmth begins to envelop your mind and causes a pleasant tingling sensation to spread throughout your body. “Sorry… Didn’t meant to spill first time…” You slur out, one hand coming up to collect the spilled honey off of your cheeks and neck, licking it off your fingers as you peer up at him. “Please… Husband… Take me, in bed, for our first time?” You peer up at him through your eyelashes, pouting a little as you press your naked breasts to his corroded armor.

The rumbling sound that Typhus made almost terrified you, if not for the insistent way he nuzzled your neck, leaving little kisses and bites all the way down, from just under your ear, to where your neck met your shoulders. You realized a moment later that he was purring, and the tentacle that had shoved it’s way inside your cunt earlier was steadily pumping in and out of you, prompting needy little gasps and moans to leave you as he presses you hard against the table. “OH… I understand now why Grandfather holds onto Grandmother so closely… Why she is such a precious treasure for him… Mrrr, you are a tempting little treat, but I did promise to fuck you on a bed if you tasted my honey, and I tend to try and keep my promises.” You could hear the buzz of his demonic bees that accompanied him everywhere he went at the end of his little speech..

“Ah! Hah… Please… Amngh! Ty-... Typhus! AH… My lord! Hah… the table… hurtss…. Please my lord husband! Ah! Hah… Please!” You plead, the fuzziness in your mind and the pleasure - somehow amplified by the warmth spreading through you threatened to break what little control you had over yourself and this situation into tiny little pieces. You deliberately squeeze as tightly as you can manage around the thrusting tendril inside of you “Please… bed? Now? Oh!  You… You’re gonna… haha! Make me c-cum soon, siirrr!” 

The pleased growling rumble that provoked from Typhus you hoped was a good thing. “Such a good little wife I have… fuck! You are such a tempting little thing. Hold on close~!” He purrs. You feel another’s warpcraft weave it’s way across your body, and you fight the urge to resist with all your strength as Typhus teleports you and himself to somewhere else.

Wherever it is, it’s softer under your ass than the hard metal and glass table. Warmer, too as Typhus starts leaving more bites across the skin of the other side of your neck and shoulders, his tentacles teasing your breasts and bending your legs back and away, nearly folding you in half, as the tentacle fucking your cunt moves at a maddeningly quick pace, curling and shifting inside of you in all the right ways.

You hazily watch as he pulls away, his large hands fumbling with something at his waist - a metallic thunk of something hitting the floor. You're still keening and moaning at the way one of his tentacles is filling your core full when -

Something larger begins to press inside of you, while the tentacle is still inside. You realize after a moment it's Typhus' cock "Please! Husband... Lord... I... I can't take both at once! You're too big for me, I'll tear!" You plead tearfully, the pain coursing through your body so much more than the pleasure that had nearly sent you to an orgasm.

Typhus chuckles, kissing your cheeks and licking up your tears "Easy now, my cute little wife. You'll be able to fit in both, I promise. Just breathe through the pain. I'll move slowly, I promise... Though you are sinfully tight around my cock... Such a good little wife~! Good girl... Deep breaths... That's it..."

A tiny part of you hates how his praise does seem to somehow be helping you. Your breathing is jagged and shallow as the bastard continues to press in, his thick, long cock sliding in slowly alongside where one of his tentacles is already buried deep inside your cunt. It feels like it takes an eternity for him to stop pressing inside of you, and twice that for the pain to subside.

All the while, Typhus is purring lewd praises in your ear, nibbling on the skin of your neck, and drinking up your tears. "Such a good girl... My precious, eternal flower, taking all of me in... That's it, just breathe in and out as you submit to me... Good little mate. Are you ready for me to move?"

You nod weakly, well and thoroughly trapped beneath his bulk "Y-Yes, please move, lord..."

Typhus starts purring again as he alternates thrusting in with one of his tentacles and his cock, never not filling you with one of them, a filthy string of curses and praises leaving his lips as he fucks into you hard and fast.

You claw at his back, moving your hips in time to his thrusts as best as you can, the intensity of the sensations too much for you to do more than instinctually respond back, moaning wordlessly in pleasure, clinging tightly as your first orgasm hits you.

Typhus doesn't so much as slow down as your walls flutter and squeeze around him, the bastard as he continues to fuck you, somehow able to move even faster as he fucks you through your orgasm. He does, however, bite down hard on one of your shoulders, enough to draw blood.

You couldn't say how much time passed as Typhus fucked you over and over again, pulling orgasm after orgasm from your increasingly exhausted body. Eventually both his cock and the tentacle he'd been using to fuck you for what must have been hours at minimum deep inside your core at the same time, pressing up against your cervix (causing you a whimper of pain, which he ignored) flooding your womb with cum. You swore you could feel your belly begin to bulge outwards at the amount he pumped into you, prompting another whimper to leave your exhausted and chapped lips.

Typhus chuckles, kissing you again as you feel the tentacle press harder against your cervix, before feeling something other than cum begin to fill your womb, bump by bump.

"Wh... what is...?" You slur out, too tired to form the words properly, sending the sensation through the light mental bond that Typhus had formed with you during the sex at some point.

Typhus chuckled and purrs "Geneseed, lovely one. Which you will hold inside of you until it is ready to be implanted. You make a wonderful wife, my lovely little flower." He pats your lightly distended belly with an enormous hand, clearly pleased with himself. He holds you close to his body "Rest, little flower. You are safe with me."

You very much want to demand what the fuck he meant by that, but the psychic pressure behind his command - and your own exhaustion worked against you as you slumped into his embrace, sleep overtaking you.

[dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes]

All I wanna do is cuddle, ok? I’m so freaking tired.

Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson x You

Imagine coming home to the guys who you’re rooming with, and you’re just tired from a 12 hour work day. You plop on the couch and lay your head back. You start to doze only to find Logan coming out of his shared bedroom with Wade to pick up your tired ass and walk back into their room, bridal style. It’s an uncommon event.

“Logan?” You ask. He grunts.

“What are you doing?”

He sets you down in the middle of their bed. Wade returns Logan’s pillow and presses up to your left side, wrapping an arm and a leg around you.

“Oh,” you whisper. You’re still fully dressed from work.

Logan lays down next you and slowly slides an arm under your neck. You adjust, placing your head on his chest and listen to his steady heartbeat.

After a minute, you grunt and use one hand under the blanket to work your blue jeans open, slowly wiggling it off.

“What are you doing?” Logan asks tiredly in his gruff voice.

“Taking off my pants. Jeans hurt to sleep in.”

Wade hums, sits up, throws the blanket off you, and pulls off the jeans revealing white bikini underwear and crew socks.

You take the opportunity to remove your shirt revealing a matching undershirt.

“Matchy matchy,” Wade sleepily teases before pulling the blanket back over you two and cuddling back up against you, spooning. He nuzzles into your hair and relaxes.

Your heartbeats quick for a minute, Logan squeezes you as a reminder you’re safe, before you’re able to calm down.

You’re comfy.

They’re comfy.

Wade always gets a boner from everything.

Fuck it.

You’re tired and these two are amazing cuddlers.

😴

[darknoverse]

that one scene from Aristocats that makes me melt EVERYTIME but it's Flip and Prism

also Prism with Duchess' voice fits so much it's not even funny zeirhfgbvndkfjg

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