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fortheloveofwonderland · 3 years

Text

A Memory Locked In The Heart - Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

A/N - Requested by the lovely @overduelibrarybooks I hope this was the kind of thing you were looking for!

Find my masterlist here.

My taglists are open and requests are open.

Requested: Yes l No

Request: "could u ever write a spencer reid x reader where reader def works for the cia but more as a translator who’s kinda forced into doing agenty things in order to gather intel and on a mandated break she finds out the UNSUB before the team does so she uses herself as bait, and shoots the guy all very badass fashion n then gets interrogated bc ms girl just shot him coldblood and halfway thru she recognizes spencer bc her mother and his mom lived in the same care facility??? idk sorry my mom has paranoid too so it just hits different but u don’t have to write this if u don’t want to i love ur writing <3"

CW: disclaimer: I know next to nothing about the CIA and what they investigate so please go easy on me here. This is all made up so hopefully it makes some kind of sense. Mentions of violence and sex work, schizophrenia, Alzheimer’s, some swears. Mentions of drug use and overdose. Spanish used towards the end is from Google Translate so I apologise if it isn’t completely accurate. Italics indicate flashbacks.

Plot: Eighteen years ago you met a boy named Spencer Reid whilst visiting your mother at Bennington Sanitorium. This time you are meeting under entirely different circumstances; across the table of an interrogation room.

WC: 5.3K

—————————————————————

How did I end up here?

That was a question you kept asking yourself as you rolled into your third hour of sitting in that cold, dimly lit interrogation room at the FBI headquarters in Quantico, Virginia.

Well you supposed you’d have to go back to the beginning to truly work that out.

The CIA and FBI joint task force for a country wide sex trafficking ring they believed to be operating out of DC.

When your team at the CIA had started investigating it was estimated that the ring had close to a hundred women who had been abducted and forced into the sex industry.

A lot of women were believed to have been taken trying to cross the border. Your job as a translator had involved spending a lot of time in Mexico, helping interview witnesses and family members who didn’t speak English.

The FBI involvement had come when women believed to have been part of the trafficking ring started turning up dead.

At last count they were up to twenty bodies. The Behavioural Analyst Unit had given their profile of the man they believed to be running the show.

White male in his mid to late forties. Bilingual. Possibly born in Mexico or an area surrounding the border but grew up in DC, they assumed based on his knowledge of the area. He’s attractive, charming and has a good level of education, he’d need to be able to charm the women into trusting him. He doesn’t have a full time job because he wouldn’t have time for one. All his time and focus goes on his girls. He was tech savvy, incredibly so, he’d have to be, to be able to set up the network on the dark web which enabled his customers to pay for his services.

It hadn’t been going well. Bodies kept dropping and the task force was no closer to catching the person responsible.

This went on for six months. Everyone was exhausted. You kept hitting brick wall after brick wall. It was demoralising.

Your boss had called for mandated time off. You’d all argued but she had been absolutely adamant. You’d all been working yourselves to the bone and she didn’t want you burnt out entirely.

You’d argued but your words had fallen on deaf ears.

“Can I get you a glass of water or something?”

The voice startled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see the lanky, messy haired agent who called himself Doctor Reid, sticking his head through the door.

“Is coffee an option?”

He smiled brightly at you, a smile you swear you’ve seen before.

“Coffee is always an option.” He told you. “How do you take it?”

“Strong and black. Please.”

“I’ll be right back.”

With that the door closed leaving you to your thoughts once more.

There was something so familiar about the Doctor. His dark yet sparkling eyes, his awkward smile and the way he dressed. You couldn’t place it. But there was definitely something about him that stirred some memory buried deep in your brain. You just weren’t sure what it was.

He returned a few minutes later, bringing your coffee into the room and placing it on the table in front of you.

“Hopefully you won’t be stuck here too much longer. It’s just standard procedure.” he spoke sweetly, his voice stirring the hidden memory.

“Yeah I know. I get it.” you sighed as you spoke, wrapping your hands around the coffee. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.” he smiled before he started backing out of the room. You wished you could ask him to stay because you felt so much more at ease with him around. But you knew you couldn’t.

He turned to you in the doorway.

“You look cold in that.” He smiled a little sadly at you.

You’d forgotten about your outfit choice. No self respecting CIA agent dressed like you were right now.

“I guess I am a little.” You shrugged.

Spencer instantly shrugged his blazer off of his shoulders and laid it in front of you on the table.

“Thank you Doctor Reid.” you spoke again before he disappeared out the door.

“Goodbye Agent Y/L/N.”

The door closed, his voice reverberating in your ears, dragging you into a long forgotten memory.

As you slipped his jacket on, your eyes fluttered closed, his scent wafting up your nose.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your eyes shot back open, a frown on your face.

“Spencer?” you muttered under your breath. “Spencer Reid.”

Where had you pulled that name from? And why did it feel oddly connected to Vegas?

You tried to push the thought away, you already had enough on your mind. There were much more pressing things to deal with than a vague memory from your hometown an undetermined amount of time ago.

***

You’d been instructed to switch off. Your time off should be used to recoup, relax and not to think about the case.

Easier said than done you thought.

Before you’d left the office on your mandated leave you’d taken photocopies of some files and slipped them into your bag. You knew you’d be in trouble if you were caught but you couldn’t help yourself. You wouldn’t be able to relax with this case still open.

As far as you were aware the BAU was still working on it but it provided you little comfort. In your time with the CIA you’d never gotten to be involved so heavily in a case. Your skills were mostly utilised in interview capacities and then you were sidelined.

You’d never had the privilege to work on a joint task force or investigate a crime so brutal.

You felt personally invested in this case. You thought if you could just find that one missing puzzle piece you could crack this case wide open.

And then you’d found it. The golden ticket. The smoking gun. The missing piece.

It had taken five days of your leave and copious amounts of coffee but you’d connected the dots no one else had.

You knew how to draw the unsub out. And you were going to do it tonight.

***

“Let’s start again from the beginning shall we?” Agent Rossi linked his fingers together on top of the table as he looked across at you, still slowly sipping your coffee.

“Oh goody.” You sighed. “Could Agent Jareau not fill you in what I’ve already told her?”

“Humour me.” The old man shrugged.

You didn’t have any ill will against him. Far from it. You were actually a big fan of David Rossi. But you were sick and tired of being treated like a criminal.

“Tell me how you managed to work out how to find him.”

You took another long sip of the coffee.

“All the pieces were there, they just hadn’t been put into place.”

“And how did you piece them together?”

“There was a pattern to where the women had been last seen. It was a guess more than anything. A lucky guess.”

“And the pattern was?”

You sighed in frustration.

“As I told agent Jareau,” you sipped your coffee. “The bars they were last seen in all had ties to Mexico. I’m not a native to DC but I know the area like the back of my hand. They were all either Mexican owned, had a Mexican name or were previously establishments such as Mexican restaurants. I made an educated guess that he frequented places such as these looking for his targets. I just got lucky I picked the right one.”

***

You felt incredibly exposed, but you supposed that was the point.

If you were going to get this guy's attention, you had to do this right.

It was a long shot. Just because Western’s bar was known for its famous tacos did not mean it would be the place he chose to pick up girls.

You just had to hope.

You wore a skimpy skirt that barely covered your ass, knee high boots and a crop top that accentuated your assets.

Your firearm was hidden in your left boot.

Your outfit garnered a lot of looks as you headed through Westerns towards the bar.

You felt men’s eyes on you from every angle, making you feel extremely self conscious. But you needed to keep your cool, exude confidence.

If your guy was here he needed to see you shine.

You ordered a soda to keep your head clear and sat at a table over the far side of the bar. From there you had a good view of the entrance and most of the room. And more importantly, the room had a view of you.

Three hours you sat there nursing your soda. It was a huge stab in the dark, you weren’t really surprised.

You finished your drink and headed out onto the cool DC street.

You made it five steps before you felt a presence behind you.

Just as you were about to turn, something covered your mouth.

You struggled against a pair of strong arms.

A smell wafted up your nose seconds before you lost consciousness.

Chloroform.

***

“Why didn’t you tell your unit chief before you went in?”

“Because I thought it was a long shot.” And because she would have been furious I was working the case.

“So you chose to use yourself as bait?”

“Yes.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Do you know how dangerous that could have been?” Rossi raised an eyebrow at you.

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Yes agent Rossi, I’m well aware. But I had a lead and I wasn’t going to ignore it.” You pulled Doctor Reid’s jacket tighter around your scantily clad body.

You caught his scent again. Coffee. Old books. A hint of peppermint.

Another long shut off memory wormed it’s way to the surface.

“So are you here visiting someone?”

“Yeah.” You smiled sadly. “My mom.”

“Oh.” He returned your sad smile. “Me too.”

“Agent Y/L/N?”

You were brought back by Rossi’s concerned voice.

“Hmm?”

“I said, what happened next? You were chloroformed and then what?”

You shook your head, your mind clouded.

“Can we take a break? I could really use some air.”

Rossi sighed with a small nod.

He stood from his chair and motioned you to follow him.

You got some odd looks from his fellow agents as he led you to the elevators. They all recognised what you were wearing as Spencer’s jacket.

You followed Rossi into the elevator and he pressed the button for the ground floor.

“Agent Rossi, can I ask you a strange question?” You asked as the doors closed.

He gave you a curious look.

“I suppose.”

“Doctor Reid. As in Spencer Reid?”

“The one and only.” Rossi frowned unsure what you were getting at.

“Where is he from?”

Rossi’s frown deepened, not sure he should tell you such things about his team. But you were an agent and you didn’t pose a threat to the team.

“Vegas I believe.”

Vegas. Of course.

“Ok.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know.” You chewed your lip. “I think I might have known him.”

“Oh?”

You wished you hadn’t opened your mouth. This was not the time or place.

“I’m probably wrong. Just forget I said anything.”

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. As you stepped out you pulled Spencer’s collar to your nose and sniffed it.

No you weren’t wrong.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Hi again.” You smiled at the lanky man, Spencer you’d met a few days ago. “How’s your mom?”

“Still angry at me.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stubbed the toe of his shoe on the floor.

“She came in recently?”

“Yeah a few months ago. I turned eighteen and I was able to have her put into care.” He blanched, clearly feeling guilty for his decision.

“Do you want to grab a coffee?”

“Uhm sure.” He shrugged.

He followed you through to the day room. It was late and there were only a few patients inside and a few nurses milling around.

You got two cups of coffee from the machine and the two of you sat at a table together.

“Do you mind me asking what’s wrong with your mom?” You dared as you slid him the drink.

He sighed heavily, gnawing on his bottom lip as though his life depended on it.

“She’s a paranoid schizophrenic.” He spoke clinically, words he’d had to say too many times in his life. It was as though he’d distanced himself from it. Like he was giving a patient a diagnosis rather than talking about his own mother.

“Mine too.” You gave him a wry smile. You had something in common, just not something you would like to have in common.

“How long has your mom been here?”

“Three years. She got really bad and my dad couldn’t take care of her anymore. She’s been doing much better since she moved in here.”

“That’s good.” Spencer nodded. “I hope my mom realises I did this for her. For her well being. At the moment she’s just so...angry.”

You reached across the table and placed your hand on top of his. He seemed a little startled by the physical touch but you didn’t move your hand.

“This is the best place for her. I assume from what you said earlier your dad isn’t in the picture?”

He used his free hand to sip his coffee with a sad shake of his head.

“He left when I was ten. He couldn’t handle mom's illness.”

You gave his hand a small squeeze.

“I can’t imagine what it was like for you to have to look after her by yourself. It was hard enough with my dad there. Really makes you grow up fast.”

“It really does.” He agreed. “I’m not sure I ever got to be a kid.”

“I know that feeling.”

After that you spent hours chatting about anything and everything until way into the night. It wasn’t until a nurse came and asked you politely to leave that you realised how late it was.

“I’ll probably see you around?” You spoke as you stepped outside together.

“Maybe. In a few weeks I’m heading out of state. I’m working on a PhD.” He didn’t want to tell you it was actually his second PhD.

“Oh. Ok.” You tried to hide the disappointment from your voice.

Despite the circumstances you’d enjoyed talking to someone like minded, someone who understood. You didn’t have anyone else your own age you could talk to about this kind of thing.

“Maybe we could exchange numbers?” You blushed a little.

“I don’t have a cellphone.” He shrugged.

“Oh.”

“It’s not an excuse.” He sensed you didn’t believe him. “I’m not so into technology. I don’t even have email.”

Normally you would have thought it was just a bad excuse to get out of seeing you again but the look on Spencer’s face told you he was being genuine.

“Ok.” You gave him a shy smile. “Well maybe I’ll see you again before you leave.”

“I hope so.” His eyes sparkled as he looked at you on the dark street.

There was an air between you, some kind of thick tension but you didn’t know what it meant.

“If I don’t see you again,” you spoke trying to ignore whatever it was. “It was really good to meet you and I hope your mom gets used to the facility.”

“You too.” He smiled so genuinely at you, it made your heart skip a beat.

And then you went your separate ways.

***

“Ok, so what happened next?” Rossi wasted no time once you were back in the interrogation room.

“Well I blacked out after I was chloroformed so excuse me if I don’t remember.” You gave him a sarcastic smile.

“What’s the next thing you do remember?” He reworded his question.

“I woke up in a large basement. It was gritty and dingy. And there were other women there too.”

“How many?”

“At least twenty.” You sighed letting your mind travel back to the basement you never wanted to go back to. Not even in your mind.

***

You woke with a start, your head pounding. You gasped for air as though you’d been drowning.

You blinked your eyes trying to adjust to the dark room you found yourself in.

It was cold and damp and you could hear a pipe dripping in the distance.

You tried to roll over but your arm wouldn’t budge. You were met by a loud clanking sound when you tried.

You tugged your arm, hearing the same sound and being met with a sharp pain in your wrist.

“Good luck.” A woman’s voice scoffed. “They don’t come loose.”

You blinked a few more times, looking over to your left arm. There was a heavy metal cuff right around your wrist that was attached to a metal bed frame.

That’s when you realised you were laying on a small cot on top of a ratty, itchy blanket. You were still dressed, thank god.

You suddenly remembered your firearm concealed in your boot. You patted your left calf and sure enough you felt the hard weapon still inside.

That was something at least.

Oversight on their part.

You remembered the voice you’d heard before and turned as much as you could with your arm cuffed to take in the rest of the room.

There were at least forty other cots close together lining the walls, with at least half of them containing the body of other women.

The voice you’d heard belonged to a woman in the cot next to you. She gave you a smile but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Her eyes were broken.

“Hi,” you croaked. “I’m Y/N.”

“Delilah.” Her accent was Spanish. You were sure Delilah wasn’t her real name either.

“How long have you been here?”

She sighed, playing with a strand of curly black hair.

“What month is it?”

“September.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Not that long then. I’ve been here since July.” She looked confused as though that couldn’t be long enough.

“Delilah?” You narrowed your eyes on her. “What year do you think it is?”

“2018…” she saw your face drop and knew instantly it was no longer 2018.

“Oh gosh.” You felt for her, tears welling in your eyes. “It’s 2020.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Wow.”

“It’s ok.” You lowered your voice. “I’m CIA. I’m going to get us out of here. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

***

“Delilah.” Rossi opened the file in front of him. “Was that Roberta Suez?”

He pulled out a photograph and slid it across the table. You averted your gaze.

“Yes and please I don’t need to see it, I was there.”

“How did she end up in hospital fighting for her life?”

“You know how.” You huffed. “Look I’m starting to get fed up with this now.” You folded your arms. “Carlos Ramirez was a sick son of a bitch. If I hadn’t done what I did he would have killed all those women. I don’t regret what I did.”

“How did she end up in hospital?” He repeated.

“Good lord.” You grumbled. “I’ll talk but I don’t want to talk to you.”

Rossi narrowed his eyes on you.

“No? But I’m so compassionate.” He spoke sarcastically.

“I won’t say another word unless it’s to Reid.” You looked up to the two way mirror. You didn’t know why but you had a feeling he was there.

Sure enough it was barely twenty seconds before the door opened and Doctor Reid himself stepped in the room.

“I got this Rossi.” Spencer told the older man who stood up with a shrug.

Rossi left the room while Spencer took the seat he’d been occupying.

Did he remember you? It had been close to twenty years since you’d last seen each other. Had it not been for the olfactory memory that struck you when you put on his jacket you might never have remembered him.

But you knew the rest of his team was behind the two way glass, or at least some of them were so it didn’t seem an appropriate time to ask such things.

“So agent Y/L/N,” he smiled softly at you. “Can you please tell me how Delilah ended up in hospital?”

“You already know the answer to that Doctor but since you asked so nicely,” you leant your elbows on the table, entwined your fingers and rested your chin the little bridge you’d created. “She had a drug overdose. But you and I both know it wasn’t her who administered the drugs.”

“And who did?”

“I did.”

Your words hung in the air between you and Spencer. He knew the answer, the whole team did. You’d already told Agent Jareau everything.

This was a huge waste of time.

“I administered the drugs because he told me if I didn’t he would kill me. I needed to stay alive so I could save those women.”

“Who said he would kill you?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“It wasn’t Ramirez?”

“No.” You shook your head. “If it was Ramirez I would have shot him. But it must have been one of his right hand men.”

“How would you know that? You’d never met Ramirez correct?” Spencer had a soft tone to his voice which made his line of questioning easier than Agent Jareau’s.

“I’m not a profiler but I’ve been to enough seminars over the years. He didn’t fit the bill. He was young, scatty, he didn’t strike as much fear into the other women as I thought the boss would. I made an educated guess and I was right. If I’d shot at him I would have blown my chance at getting Ramirez.”

***

“Shit shit shit!” You pulled yourself as close to Delilah’s cot as possible with your restraint. “Delilah, keep breathing, try to breath. Fuck I am sorry.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks, the empty needle you’d been made to inject in her vein between your cots on the floor.

He’d held a gun to your head and said he would shoot you if you didn’t do it. You didn’t think he was bluffing.

“It happens a lot.” A woman opposite spoke up. “You’ll soon find out. If she wakes up she’ll have the pleasure of returning the favour.” She gave you an almost manic grin.

If she wakes up. It was the if you were having the issue with.

“Who’s in charge around here?”

She shrugged.

“Don’t know his name. Big guy. Tattoos. Mustache. You can’t miss him.”

“Does he come down here often?”

Again she shrugged.

“Being down here you have a way of losing track of time.” She clicked her tongue. “But he’ll be here for you later. He has to test his new girls.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Test?” You swallowed, pretty sure you knew what she meant.

“He can’t very well expect you to make him money if he doesn’t know how good you are.”

Oh god.

Your heartbeat raced. No, it was not going to come to that. You were a CIA agent and you were armed.

It was not going to come to that.

***

Spencer’s face paled a little at your words. You hadn’t told Agent Jareau that part.

“He was going to...he didn’t…”

“No.” You cut him off, pushing the memory back down. “I had a gun, remember.”

You offered him a wry smile.

“So you know what comes next.”

“I’d like you to tell me.”

The way he said it was more like he was a therapist than an FBI agent. As though he wanted you to tell him so you could get it off your chest, unburden yourself, rather than for interrogation purposes.

“Ok.” You nodded. “He came for me later that night. And that’s when it happened.”

***

“Ahh look at you.”

A deep, Spanish voice woke you.

Your eyes fluttered open and landed on a strong, tattooed man with a mustache standing over your cot.

This must be him.

“Tan hermosa.”

So beautiful.

You tried not to shudder.

You sat up wiggling your legs in your boots to make sure you could still feel your firearm. You could.

“Su nombre es Rosa.”

Your name is Rosa.

Guess again.

“Su nombre es Y/N.”

“Tú hablas español?”

You speak Spanish?

“Si.”

“Eres perfecta.” He grinned menacingly. “My clients will love you.”

He reached in his pocket and fished out a key chain. He reached over you and unlocked your cuff.

You rolled your wrist to try and get your blood circulating again.

“On your feet.”

You complied and stood up. Your legs were shaky.

He grasped your wrist, hard enough so you couldn’t wriggle free but not hard enough to leave a mark. He started dragging you across the room.

With his free hand he undid the four locks on the large steel door and pulled your through it. Once on the other side he took care to lock them all again, keeping a firm grasp on you the whole time.

You were dragged down a long, narrow corridor towards another steel door, this one with just one lock on.

He slid the key in and opened it, pulled you inside and locked it behind him.

The room was much smaller than the one you’d been held in and only housed a single cot.

He licked his lip as he looked at you. His large, thick fingers stroked your cheek and you had to try and hide your disgust.

“En la cama. Ahora.”

On the bed. Now.

You had to pick the opportune moment. You had to plan this just right. You had no doubt he had a gun on him so if you faltered even slightly, he would kill you.

“Qué tal esto.”

How about this.

You made a show of licking your lips and then dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Whoa, feisty. I like it.” He grinned, his meaty hands going to his belt buckle.

Yes. Right where you wanted him.

While he was fumbling with his belt, you reached your hand back into your left boot, drawing your gun in one swift move.

You head butted him in the crotch, sending him stumbling backwards, crying out in pain.

“Mierda!” Shit. “Usted puta!”

You whore!

You were on your feet in a second, your gun trained on him.

“You will never hurt another woman again.” You spat, furious tears suddenly streaming from your eyes.

He looked up at you, his mouth opened to speak.

But the words didn’t come out as your bullet hit him between the eyes.

“Who’s the puta now?”

***

“I would say,” Spencer chewed his lip. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank god.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly. “And I did. If I hadn’t shot him, who knows how many other women would have died.”

Spencer pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Just so you know, we got word from the hospital a little while ago. Roberta Suez, Delilah, is going to be just fine.”

“Oh thank god.” You felt tears brimming your eyes.

He opened the door and turned back to you.

“Are you coming?”

“I can leave?”

“You were never under arrest.” He smirked at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

You got up from the chair and Spencer motioned you out of the room.

“I’ll walk you out.” He showed you across the bullpen towards the elevators. There was an awkward air between the two of you.

Did you say anything? It didn’t seem as though he remembered you, was it worth reminding him?

He motioned you into the elevator first and he followed, pressing the button.

The elevator started its descent.

Time was running out.

“So uhm…” Spencer turned to you and turned too. “How’s your mom?”

A smile broke out on your features.

“I didn’t think you remembered me.”

“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “I recognised you the second you walked in.”

“It’s been twenty years.” You laughed.

“Eighteen years, seven months.” He corrected you. “But I could never forget your face.”

You blushed a little, averting your gaze.

“My moms doing ok. Thanks for asking. How’s your mom?” You looked back at him.

“Recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.” He told you sadly.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok. These things happen.” He shrugged. “Made it to thirty without having a schizophrenic break but now I have to wait until I’m older to find out if I’ll develop Alzheimer’s.”

The doors to the elevator opened and you stepped out, Spencer close behind.

“I really am sorry Spencer.”

“It’s ok.” He shrugged. “Is your mom still at Bennington? I used to see her when I went to visit my mom but I moved her out a little while ago.”

“Yeah she’s still there. She likes being close to my dad.”

You both hovered by the exit, not ready to say goodbye.

“Can I take you for coffee? If you don’t have anywhere else to be.” Spencer blushed as he spoke.

“I’d like that. A lot actually. But I’d really like to shower and change out of this getup.” You laughed. “How about dinner?”

“Dinner sounds perfect.” He grinned at you.

You gave him a smile and turned to leave but before you made it to the door Spencer spoke again.

“Y/N,” he called your name, his voice cracking a little. “You uh...you forgot something.”

You turned to face him curiously.

He walked closer to you and without a second thought, placed his hands on your face and kissed you.

For a second you stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

But after a few moments you wrapped your arms around his neck and opened your mouth to deepen the kiss.

When the kiss ended you were both smiling at one another.

“What was that for?” You asked softly.

“Oh you know…” he shrugged with a coy smile. “Just something that needed to be done.”

“I’ll meet you back here in a few hours.” You told him, touching his chest briefly.

“Ok.”

“Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.” He croaked.

And with that you sauntered out the doors but not out of his life.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Spencer?” You’d only made it a few paces away from Bennington before you stopped in your tracks, calling his name. “You uh...you forgot something.”

He turned to face you curiously.

You walked closer to him and without a second thought, placed your hands on his face and kissed him.

He stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

It was just a brief kiss, Spencer was too confused to do anything but stand there dumbly.

“Wh-what was that for?” He swallowed.

“Just something that needed to be done.” You smiled. “Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.”

And with that you sauntered back down the street, hoping that one day, the universe would lead you back into each other’s lives.

—————————————————————

Taglist (let me know if you would like to be added) -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

@mggsprettygirl @measure-in-pain

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #david rossi #jennifer jareau #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader

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blackberry-gingham · 4 years

Note

Do you write headcannons? If you do how about one for soft teddy!beatles x reader

Yay, first request, thank you! But hm, I've never thought about headcannons, but I can try! Since this request is kinda open, I'm going to go for like, what the general relationship vibes are

George

Does anyone remember the like slam poetry club from a goofy movie?

Like I'm talking that, dark smokey room, chilling in an alley, cool cat, avant garde poet vibe

That's George

Of all the boys, he's the loner of the group

He's just got that dark and mysterious vibe, which is honestly what drew you to pursue him in the first place

You're chill in your own right tho and great at respecting his space, both of which he loves you for

The other boys are actually kinda surprised at how easily he opened up to you

You two can often be seen on the edge of the social gathering, either kissing or just vibing, away from all the noise

But what does he do when he's off in his own world, and takes time to himself?

Write music and lyrics of course!

He brings his work to you a lot, and even plays samples of his sheet music for you

"how's this sound love?" "I'm thinking it goes something like this... There, how's that?"

You're his number one fan, but he appreciates that you give genuine feedback too

He loves to write you cute little notes and sweet romantic poems

Although, he never straight hands them to you, you always just... Find them in places clearly meant for you to discover them

Your purse, your bookbag, the teeth of your hairbrush, the sleeve of your favorite record

He doesn't know this, but you hold onto every single one

Dates with George are kind of low key tbh

Like if you want to go out, that's fine! But usually you two just vibe and write lyrics, poems, and music together

He even teaches you some guitar!

To the boys, you're basically George part two lol

Meaning, they're happy to hangout and all, but typically they just respect you and your space like they do for George

You're just a mystery to them, and they're ok with that

John

The actual definition of "asshole to the world, sweetheart to his girl"

He gives you LOTS of pet names

"my bird" "love" "doll face" " she's a dime"

At first, you're kiiiiind of just his arm candy

He's just nervous to show his soft side, you know?

After all, his role in the teds is halfway between the leader and the muscle

Add that into the fact that he's secretly quite the anxious person, and you manage to let it go

But!!! Once you've been together for a while, he's fiercely protective of you in public and sweetly affectionate when he thinks no one's looking

Like when you're alone?

I'm talking head in your lap while you play with his hair, comes to you randomly and asks for hugs/cuddles, picks you up and spins you around, holds you close to slow dance even if there's no music, kind of affection

You just.... Soothe him

Like, maybe he doesn't need to be big bad John Lennon to show the world that he's strong and tough and worthy of love and affection

Now, when you're in public

He'll hold your hand if you ask and kiss you and all that, especially if he sees someone else eyeing you up

But if someone thinks they can catch him lacking and snatch you up?

WHOO BOY

Bottom line always is that you're his and he's yours, and anyone who can't respect that, or God forbid, can't respect you...

Let's just say, OOF

When it comes to dates this man is CLUELESS !!!

You basically have to do 80% of the planning, but luckily he's happy to do whatever you want!

The boys see you as a little sister of sorts, and they're all ready to stand up for you at a moment's notice!

However, that's often not necissary with John around lol

Paul

Paul is a bit like John in a way

He's loud, cocky, and rambunctious, but what sets him apart is he's charismatic enough to sell water to a drowning man and in tune enough with his emotions that he can express himself without growing frustrated or aggressive

1000000% chance that he's the one who approached you

Unfortunately for him, you're of the mindset to not associate with teddy riff raff like him and his friends

Paul's totally bewildered bc he's not use to being turned down flat like that

But that just makes him all the more eager to prove you wrong!

He's like a stray cat that takes a liking to you

Except instead of mice and birds, he brings you sweet little things like a bouquet of dandelions or some penny candy

After a while, he starts to grow on you

What if.... You were wrong about teds like Paul?

You guys get to talking and hanging out, and you even spend time with him and the boys! *Gasp*

Which is usually a trip, bc Paul looooves to show you off!

Like he's seriously your number one hype man

"there's my gorgeous girl!" "Don't you look lovely!" "Is that a new dress? It looks right capital on you!"

At first you were embarrassed by all the attention, but you soon grew to love it, especially considering how genuine he is with all his comments

Soon enough, you feel like you're on top of the world with a guy like him boosting your confidence!

Paul's dates are the most traditionally romantic of the boys

He takes you to dinner, drive in movies, accompanies you shopping, all that good stuff

As Paul's girl you're like the Queen to his King lol

Even tho John formed their little group, Paul feels the most like the leader with his silver tongue and all so you can always count on him and the other boys to have your back out there!

Ringo

Honestly the most square of all the teddy Beatles lol

That's ok tho bc as a square yourself, he's very approachable!

He's a little shy when you first meet him

It's just.... He's not cool and mysterious like George, or tough and strong like John, or even all that charming and charismatic like Paul

Sooooo... Why him?

Honestly at first you're not sure you could answer that question

But thankfully, it doesn't take you long at all to tease out his real personality, and by that point you feel like you could come up with a hundred reasons!

Of all your favorite things about him, your top three would definitely be that he's silly, fun, and the kind of boyfriend who's also your best friend!

Like really, he's always willing to lend an ear or a comforting shoulder, whatever you need!

He's like a puppy in a way, of all the boys he's most likely to be the one to go out if his way to please you and make you happy

On that note, he loves to make you laugh!

It's just the most magical sound to him and he doesn't understand at all why you hate the sound of it

"can't be worse then mine", he gawffs

Ringo isn't use to going very far from his friends, but when he meets you, he loves going on little dates together!

He's got a bad case of two left feet, but your favorite thing to do is go dancing

Your place, his place, the town square, it's always a good time to let loose and have fun!

His spontaneity takes you by surprise, honestly

You're just not use to letting go and having pure, genuine fun whenever and wherever

But with Ringo to show you the ropes, you embrace it quickly!

When you're not out cutting a rug, another hot spot for you two is the ice cream parlor

Of course you always get things to share, like a milkshake or a sundae

He always lets you choose

Surprisingly the boys don't pay you too much mind

They're happy for Ringo, and you too of course! But they mostly leave you both to your own devices

They look out for Ringo of course, but mostly Ringo is perfectly fine looking out for himself lol so they assume it'd be no different for his girl!

Which is fine by you guys, after all you're both more then happy to just tag along on the teds shenanigans and see where the road takes you!

#the beatles #beatles headcannons #beatles x reader #john lennon x reader #john lennon #paul maccartney #paul mccartney x reader #ringo starr x reader #ringo starr #george harrison x reader #george harrison #teddy!beatles #aaaaaaa so many tags!!!!

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shuahoonie · 4 years

Text

you [tom holland] - seven.

PAIRING: tom holland x female!celebrity!reader

SUMMARY: ah, to be young and in love. it sounds great if only you and tom were actually dating out of pure love and not for the sheer reputation of your careers. it also should be great if you two actually got along, but life isn’t that easy.

WARNINGS: mostly swearing! alcohol consumption! a whole lotta fluff on this one yall. it’s haters to lovers / fake dating au so take that information as you wish! also, their relationship is improving yall 🤧

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

SONG INSPO: harry styles - to be so lonely

A/N: hiya babes, again, its day n of quarantine. i feel awful that i’ve gone this long without an update. would totally understand that you had to reread this whole series to find out what the hell is going on lmao. also, quarantine life really ruined my general schedule like now, i start my days at 3 pm and it ends at 7 am. obviously, i’m not doing well.

also, everytime i try to write it’s always like 4 am so there’s prob a lot of errors on this. i also had the initial plan to cut this chapter in two parts but figured you guys deserve this bc i’ve been gone for way too long. [it was way past 6 am when i finished this]

hope you guys are safe. spam my inbox, tell me what you’ve been up to this quarantine! stay at home and wash those hands!!!!! sending all my love ♡

UPDATES EVERY SATURDAY 11 PM CST WHENEVER I CAN [I MEAN WE’RE IN LOCKDOWN. PLS PESTER ME TO UPDATE SO I CAN BE PRODUCTIVE]

gif credits: @tomhollandcouk

You took a look at the girls and sure enough, they were watching the two of you and were whispering amongst themselves. You didn’t know who they were so you were assuming they were on Josh’s guests.

You weren’t one to start fights however, you were extremely petty though. It’s a habit you’re trying to get rid of. “Hey, Tom?”

He hummed in response. “Do you want to finally get them off your back?” You asked him. He stared at you for a moment before nodding.

“I’m going to do something but promise me you’ll forget it as soon as it’s done.” You disclosed, not even knowing why you’re actually going to do it.

“Okay...” You knew he was getting curious. “What-”

You grabbed the side of his face and kissed the corner of his lips. To say that both of you were surprised was an understatement.

Your lips lingered on the corner of his. As soon as you saw the girls with their backs turned against you two, you pulled away.

You could easily see Tom’s ears turn red. You weren’t sure why, but you were too distracted by the fact that you actually did that.

You also felt yourself getting hot. You were sure that your face is burning, however, you were unsure of the fact that maybe it’s burning because of the stunt you just pulled or because of the alcohol in your system.

“It’s definitely the alcohol,” you murmured.

“Sorry, you were saying something?”

Seemingly lost for words and embarrassed, you told Tom “I need another drink.”

If anyone asked you what just happened, you probably won’t have an answer as you were confused as well. That’s why you were practically running to the open bar, leaving Tom on the dance floor, with the look of bewilderment painted on his face.

“Tom!”

He turned his head around, looking for who could have possibly called his name. Upon seeing who it was, he greeted her with a huge smile on his face. “Liv, congratulations! It was a wonderful ceremony.” He said genuinely.

“Aw,” Olivia cooed in delight. “Thanks, Tom! We’re happy you could make it.” She beamed.

“Would’ve never missed it,” Tom smiled.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but have you seen Y/N?” Olivia asked, looking around.

He felt himself turn red, which Olivia noticed but chose not to point it out. “She told me she was getting herself a drink...”

“That bitch never learns,” Olivia murmured to herself. “Tom, can you do me a favour? Can you please keep an eye out for her? She tends to drink a lot at weddings and-”

All of Veronica’s words came flooding back to Tom, knowing that he was supposed to stop Y/N from grabbing another glass. “Right, of course.”

“She doesn’t have a problem!” Olivia quickly disclosed. “It’s just- She tends to do a lot of weird shit while drunk.” She chuckled. “I mean look at where you two are now. None of this would’ a happened if- Oh, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay, Liv. I know.” Tom shook his head, politely dismissing Olivia. “Uh, Liv, if you don’t mind, I’m going to look for-”

“Oh, no, you’re all good.” Olivia smiled. “I have to meet with Josh in just a few minutes anyway.”

Tom congratulated Olivia again for the beautiful ceremony before he left. As Tom was looking for Y/N, he found you leaned against the bar with a drink in one hand and a phone on her other.

“Y/N.” Tom called, putting his hand on your shoulder.

“Holy fuck-” You almost spat your drink. “Jesus Christ, Tom, you fucking scared me.”

Tom chuckled. “’m sorry, darling.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to pick you up,” Tom said as he saw the drink on your hand and grabbed it “and to stop you from drinking.”

You furrowed your brows at him, “Why?”

For a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw Tom shift his eyes over at your lips. That’s when you realized that you were pouting and quickly pressed your lips together.

“’cause you’ve had enough drinks for tonight,” Tom simply stated. “Why don’t I take you back to your hotel?” He offered.

“I’m good, Tom.” You said “People aren’t looking, you can quit acting like you care now.”

Tom chose to ignore the last part and pulled out his phone. “I’m texting Veronica that we’re leaving.”

“Seriously, Tom, just let me be.”

“Y/N, I’m just looking out for you. You’ve had a couple of drinks already and apparently, Zoë needs you to be up and well tomorrow morning.” Tom said, the frustration was getting through him.

“Tom-”

“I’m serious, Y/N. I will carry you to my car if I have to.”

All you could do was glare at him.

“You’ve been frowning for 10 minutes now, your face is going to get tired, darling.” Tom commented as he stole a quick look at you, only to find you with the look of annoyance plastered all over your face and your arms crossed.

“I can’t believe you actually carried me! It was so embarrassing, you dickhead.” You grumbled, feeling shy since quite a few people did see his stunt and found it absolutely adorable.

“I did say that I was serious,” He pointed out as he did a shoulder-check before making a turn.

“Don’t even know why you’re driving me back to the hotel. I could’ve called someone, ‘ya know?” You were coming up with ways as to how you can avoid spending time with Tom, which was undeniably impossible since he is your boyfriend after all.

“Nonsense,” Tom pulled over at the front of the hotel, stepped out of the vehicle to give his keys to the valet and opened your door. “I would rather drive you back and know that you’re safe.” He said as he offered his hand for you to take.

You were reluctant at first, however, you still took his hand. He was being nice and you had to respect that.

Actually, you did notice that Tom was being nice within the past few weeks that you’ve started to date. Him becoming genuinely nice was starting to become a problem, especially when you’re involved with a lot of fake dating stunts.

It pulled your heartstrings in all kinds of different directions and you know it’s wrong, which is why you’re trying your best to put those feelings aside.

“Thanks Tom, I think I can handle myself from here.” You said as you carefully pulled your hand from Tom’s.

He frowned, “I have to take you up to your room, darling. Don’t you know that there are endless possibilities of what can happen to you just from the walk from the lobby to your room? Especially the lifts.”

You stared at him for a moment. “Well, I wouldn’t say I’m that paranoid but knowing you would never budge, then I guess you can walk me up to my room.” You said, not really going to fight him off. You already fought that battle earlier and you were left embarrassingly defeated.

The walk to the room was quiet, which was exactly what you needed. You were exhausted from today’s events, not to mention that you also had to wake up extremely early to get ready for your hair and makeup.

God, I can’t wait to take all of these off, You thought to yourself.

After what seemed like forever of looking for your keycard, you finally got to open your door. You turned to Tom who was leaning against the doorframe. He had the sleeves of his white button-ups rolled up to his elbows and he had a small smile plastered on his face, even though his eyes were nearly hooded from what seemed to be an exhausting day as well for him.

“Thanks again, Tommy,” you said softly. “Today must’ve been extremely exhausting for you.” You were starting to feel guilty as you felt like you made him jump through hoops just to take care of you when he had no obligation to do so.

“S’alright, darling.” He said before letting out a yawn. “Well, I best be off then. Good night, my darling.”

Tom had a couple of steps in before you shouted for his name, causing him to halt in the middle of the hallway. He turned to look at you, wondering why you called him.

“Do you wanna stay for a while? You must be exhausted and I don’t think I can live with myself if I let you drive whilst so.” You asked shyly. You weren’t heartless. You knew how to appreciate people’s efforts and right now, you had to swallow that pride of yours to show that you were thankful for Tom and his efforts.

Tom had to make sure that he heard you correctly. After all, you were the same girl who was reluctant to spend time with him for most of the time.

He had a loopy grin painted on his face. You weren’t sure whether it was meant to tease you or it’s because he’s getting sleepy, either way, it was enough to make you roll your eyes at him.

“Why are you smiling like that? Just-” You pinched the bridge of your nose, not knowing that it was possible to feel both annoyed and embarrassed at the same time. “Just stay with me for a bit so you can rest.” You mumbled the last part.

“Are you sure?” He asked for clarification. “Think I can drive for at least 30 minutes more-”

“Tom, just get in here with me.” You said as you took a hold of his hand and pulled him inside your hotel room. “If you think I’ll let you drive for half an hour when you’re nearly about to pass out then you’re dead wrong.” You pointed out as you closed the door.

“Are you getting soft on me now, Y/N?” He teased with a playful smirk on his face.

“No,” You denied, drawling out the ‘o’ as you kicked off your heels and pushed them to a side. “It’s called showing gratitude for being there for me.” You said, trying to sound casual as possible.

“Well,” Tom propped off his shoes and made his way to the bed “I like this side of you, darling.” He grinned.

You gave him a sarcastic smile before you turned your back and grabbed some change of clothes from your suitcase.

As you were in the bathroom to get yourself changed and try to get out of the bridesmaid dress, you’ve come across a tiny problem.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You hissed at yourself as you tried to unzip the back of your dress, failing miserably. “I have already prepped myself for the idea that I would be in the comfort of my sweatshirt.” You said to the mirror, not knowing where to pour the frustration running through you.

You opened the door slightly and found Tom who was sitting on the bed comfortably, his feet propped over the tower of pillows and his back rested on the bed frame.

“Tom?” He looked up from his phone to find where you called him from and when he saw you peering from the bathroom, he had his eyebrow raised. “Can you help me unzip my dress please?” You asked in a quiet voice.

“Sorry, what was that darling?” He asked and when you tried to repeat it again, not changing the volume of your voice. “Y/N, you have to speak up. Can’t hear you from here, darling.”

You sighed and opened the door wider, “Tom, can you unzip my dress?” You practically yelled. “-please.” you added awkwardly.

Tom blinked a couple of times before scrambling his way to the bathroom, muttering soft “yeah”s along the way.

As soon as he reached the bathroom frame, you quickly turned around so you could get this thing over with. Tom moved your hair to the side before finding the zipper of your dress. As he carefully unzipped your dress, you could feel the slightest touch of his fingertips grazing on your skin.

The trails of his touch sent you into shivers. God, am I that touch-starved? You thought. For you, the process was excruciatingly long. In reality? It probably only took like 30 seconds or less.

Shaking it all off, you quickly said your thanks and practically slammed the door on his face.

God, if you’re listening, I know I’m a handful but dying from embarrassment isn’t how I saw myself passing, You practically yelled to your thoughts.

After giving yourself a couple of minutes to change into your oversized sweatshirt and some sleeping shorts and also giving yourself to calm down, you grabbed your makeup wipes and made your way to the bed.

You tried your best to keep your cool and act as if nothing had happened. Act like you didn’t want the ground to swallow you whole.

You and Tom were sitting in silence: him scrolling on his phone and you trying to remove your makeup. The keyword was trying as you barely had any energy left to do anything and removing your makeup and fixing your hair felt like absolute chores.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” You asked, turning to Tom as you continued wiping your makeup off.

“Sure, whatcha got in mind?” He asked, putting his phone down and passing you the remote.

You hummed, waiting for the TV to finish loading the selections that they have on demand. “Ooh, they have Hereditary. I’ve been wanting to see the film for a while and I heard good things about the film.”

“Isn’t that a horror film?” He asked and you nodded. You could see that he was trying his hardest to assess whether he agrees with the film or not.

Of course, being the annoying person that you are, you teased Tom. “Aw, are you scared Tommy?” You cooed.

He rolled his eyes and denied your accusation. “’m not scared.”

“It’s settled then,” You grinned. “We’re watching Hereditary.”

As you were at least twenty minutes into the film, you took a quick look at Tom who was evidently engrossed with the film. You scooted a bit closer to him which he failed to notice, bringing a devilish smirk on your face. You slowly leaned in, just enough for your breath to hit his skin, and whispered “Tom” in an attempt to scare the poor guy.

Your tiny prank worked considering he practically jumped, almost making him fall off the bed. You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop laughing. “That was not funny, Y/N.” He said as he returned back to his spot, only this time, he had his head resting on the bed frame while his back was supported with the pillows.

“I beg to differ,” You said teasingly “Do you want to get room service? I’m kind of hungry.”

He just shrugged, saying that it doesn’t matter whether you want to or not. However, you were hungry and you’re not about to carry on watching the film with an empty stomach.

You quietly ordered room service as Tom was busy watching the film. He looked adorable, if you were being honest. He was hugging one of the pillows and used the same pillow to rest his chin on.

You were debating whether to wait for the food to arrive or fix your hair. Your hair was styled in a half-up braid, tiny flowers delicately placed within the braid, while the ends of your hair were curled. The hairstylist took a significantly huge amount of time to style everyone’s hair which is why you had to wake up at the crack of dawn. No wonder you were exhausted.

You chose to wait for the food instead and settled next to Tom. You two were clearly immersed with the film and you both flinched at the sound of the knock on the door as the scene of Charlie’s head rolls and turns into a ball pops up on the screen.

“Jesus christ,” You swore under your breath as you left the bed to go answer the door.

“Aw, are you scared, Y/N?” He mocked, which you rolled your eyes in response.

“Shut up, Holland. I’m not the only one who’s scared here.” You retorted.

You opened the door and thanked the staff that brought your room service, not forgetting to hand them a tip.

“I ordered strawberry and banana pancakes,” You told Tom with a childish smile.

“It’s midnight and you ordered pancakes?” He asked with an amused smile.

“I was craving pancakes,” You pouted. “We can share, you know? You didn’t tell me what you wanted so I just ordered food for myself.”

“S’alright, darling.” He answered “Don’t worry about it.”

“We can totally share, Tommy. I didn’t expect they’d give me this much so I won’t be able to finish this by myself.” You said as you showed him the huge stack of pancakes.

He just laughed and nodded, giving in because you weren’t going to let him just watch while you ate.

“Oooh, I also ordered tea because I remember that you like tea.”

He hummed as he approached you by the table. You were setting up the pancakes and tea that you ordered. “You remember, huh,” Tom mumbled softly as he watched you carefully set the teapot down.

“’course, I do.” You answered without hesitation. “You practically shunned me for drinking coffee that one time when you visited me on set.”

“Darling, you were on your third cup.”

“So? I needed caffeine.”

“If you needed caffeine, you could’ve easily had tea instead of your third cup.” Tom pointed out as he poured tea on his cup.

“Tea is for the weak,” You mumbled which earned a dramatic gasp from Tom.

“Take it back,” He said in disbelief.

“Tea is for the weak,” You repeated firmly just so you could annoy him even more, a smirk plastered on your face.

Tom pulled you in closer to him and started to tickle your waist, “I won’t stop till you take back what you said, Y/N”

You were squirming away from him, “Tom, stop,” you yelled in between giggles. “I might drop my pancakes, please.” You were trying your best not to tilt the plate and drop your food.

“Not hearing the magic words, Y/N” Tom teased in a sing-song voice.

“Okay, fine!” You gave in, laughing. “I take it back. Tea is great.”

“It is, innit?” He sighed in agreement, making you shake your head in amusement. “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll make you a great cup of tea.”

You started taking a few bites of your pancake before you sat on the edge of the bed, bringing your plate with you and had your complete focus on the screen. You and Tom were still watching Hereditary and you intend to finish the film, even if the film is starting to creep up on you.

Tom sat beside you, “How can you eat and watch this?” He asked.

You just shrugged. “I’m hungry, nothing can stop that.” You took another bite before you offered Tom the pancakes. “Do you want some?”

“Give me a bite,” He opened his mouth in response, leaning closer to you.

“Do it yourself, you big baby.” You laughed, almost handing him the plate before you realized, “Oh, I don’t think they gave us spare utensils though.”

“I can use yours, I don’t mind.”

You offered him your plate but Tom, instead of grabbing the plate, insisted on opening his mouth, insistently asking you to feed him. “Tommy, why are you acting like an actual child?!” You were joking of course, however, you can’t deny that this whole new dynamic that you two were having was refreshing to the eyes.

“C’mon, darling. Just give it” He replied and had his mouth open once again. “I’ll take the flowers and pins off your hair while you eat-”

“Alright, fair enough.” You agreed since you were getting the higher end of the deal. With the amount of hair pins on your hair? You were hitting the jackpot.

“I’ll do it if you also feed me.” Tom added.

“Eh, whatever,” You shrugged and took another bite of your pancake.

Tom stood on top of the bed so he could sit behind you, definitely on board with helping you with your hair. He sat behind you with his legs crossed, setting a comfortable position for him.

You felt the slight touch of his fingers graze on your neck, as he brought all of the hair to your back. As he ran his fingers softly through the ends of your hair, it was enough to make you yawn. You love it when someone plays with your hair, which perfectly explains why you like going to the hairdressers.

Trying to fight off the drowsiness that was slowly taking over you, you figured you’d cut a piece off of your pancake and feed it to Tom. You sliced a piece off with your fork and hovered it over your shoulder.

Soon enough, Tom generously took the bite and carried on with removing the pins and flowers that were carefully placed on your hair.

The process was going on for a couple of minutes now: you watching and feeding Tom with your shared pancakes, and Tom willingly taking out the pins out of your hair.

It also wasn’t long when another jumpscare appeared on screen, making you jump subtly. Maybe it wasn’t subtle as you thought, since Tom was snickering behind you.

“What are you laughing at? Maybe you insisted on helping me with my hair so you can hide behind me because you’re scared too.” You pointed out, being petty and all.

“Am not,” He grumbled, slightly offended. “Maybe I do wanna help.” He then outstretched his legs, saying that he can feel his leg getting numb.

You started to feel bad, since he didn’t have any obligation to do any of it. “Tommy, it’s okay. You can stop now.” You said, twisting your body so you can take a look at him.

“What? No, you’re fine, my darling.” He said turning your body upright, making you face the television again. “S’alright, you’re alright.” He muttered softly and went back to your hair.

You mumbled a soft ‘okay,’ too shy to say something else. You kept taking turns with feeding Tom the pancakes and taking a few bites yourself. You weren’t gonna lie and tell people that this, this, time with Tom was suffocating because it’s not.

This was the first time you ever felt truly comfortable with him. It truly felt like you were spending time with someone you loved. However, that idea itself terrifies you. The idea made you feel like you were walking on thin ice and you know you’re bound to sink anytime soon.

“Tom, here, take the last bite.”

Tom gratefully took the last bite and said, “Thanks, darling. Now put that plate on the table so we can prop ourselves properly on the bed.”

You obliged and as you did, you heard Tom dusting off the bed. Walking back, you saw him look so restricted with his slacks and button ups made you feel bad. He also looked so exhausted which, obviously, made you feel even more bad. “Tom, why don’t you just spend the night here?”

“I beg your pardon,” Tom cleared his throat. “Did you just suggest that I should spend the night here?”

“Y-yeah, I mean...” You trailed off. “You look exhausted and it would probably make me worry less if you did stay.”

“If it’s alright with you, then I wouldn’t mind.” He said softly, smiling.

You felt your cheeks burning and you really had to act fast. You remembered you wore your sweatpants earlier, as you were getting your hair and makeup done, and figured maybe Tom could fit in it.

“I’ve already worn this earlier but only while I was getting my makeup and hair done.” You pulled your black sweats out of your suitcase and offered it to Tom. “I’m not sure if it fits but it’s better than sleeping with slacks on right?”

“Are you trying to see me naked?” Tom smirked.

“W-what? No, you shithead.” You stammered. “I’m trying to make you feel comfortable. Also, if you are wearing nothing underneath then maybe keep the pants on and reevaluate why you went to a wedding without underwear?!” You popped off.

“Relax, Y/N, I was kidding.” He laughed, visibly amused at the look of distress on your face. “I’ll try it on. Thank you.”

Tom stood up and began unbuckling his belt. He was about to take his pants off when he gave you a teasing smile, in which you realized that you were staring. You turned around, absolutely embarrassed, and head soft chuckles from Tom.

“Okay, I’m decent.” Tom yelled, which you took as a proper signal and turned around, only to find your sweatpants fit snugly on Tom. “It’s a bit snug, but I think I’ll manage.” He commented as he also began unbuttoning his shirt.

You weren’t going to lie and tell people that you think that Tom isn’t fit. Because he is. He is very fit. His fans know that, you know that, everyone knows that. So, would they blame you if you stared at his fit body, absolutely flustered? Of course not, because they know.

However, what they don’t know is how hard you’re trying your hardest not to stare because, you of all people, know how you don’t like when people stare at your body.

“So, whaddaya think?” He turned around and lifted his bum, asking jokingly: “Too much?”

“Eh, it could be better.” You said, playing along.

“Oh c’mon,” He groaned in exaggeration, “People think I have a great arse.” Tom pouted while he returned to his position. This time he climbed up the bed, resting his back against the headboard, and had his legs spread.

“You know what? They’re right,” You said as you climbed up the bed as well and sat between his legs again. “You do have a fabulous ass.”

“Now, you’re just saying that to flatter me so I can continue removing pins from your hair.” He mumbled softly, feeling the return of his fingers back on your hair.

“Yeah,” you sighed in content. “I’m not letting you go until every hairpin is gone, babe.” You replied, not even thinking about what you were saying. Your eyes widened. Babe? You called him babe? Bitch, you’re losing it.

You heard Tom chuckle, “Oh, so I’m “babe” now, huh?” He teased.

“That wasn’t me, that was the exhaustion talking.” You mumbled shyly, a poor attempt to mask up an excuse.

“Right,” He drawled, obviously aware that you were just making up an excuse for this dubious slip up. “S’okay though, I liked it.” He whispered on your right ear, making you squirm as you found it ticklish.

“Why-” You whipped your head back to face him, “Why would you do that, I’m ticklish, Tom”

“’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Tom laughed, “Can you please call me “babe” again?”

“No.” You replied and just heard him let out an exaggerated sigh.

You two were busy bickering and being distracted by each other, that you didn’t know that the scene you two were watching was the last scene of the film.

“Huh,” You huffed. “Wasn’t expecting that ending.”

“What’s with all the butts?” He pondered out loud.

“I don’t know but I want that image out of my head. Do you have any movie suggestions because I know you don’t like horror.” You asked Tom as you scrolled through the movie selections once again.

Tom peered from behind you and rested his chin on your shoulder, “Oh, have you seen Coco?” He asked in suggestion, seeing the movie from the list.

“The Pixar movie?” You asked and he nodded. “Nope, I haven’t yet.”

“We should watch it then,” Tom said “It’s a great movie. I was in bits when I saw it and I was on the plane then.”

“Is it that sad?” You gasped as you clicked on the movie, waiting for the screen to finish loading.

“Oh, I was full on sobbing, darling.” He confessed, his chin still resting on your shoulder.

As soon as the screen finished loading, you hit ‘play’ and said, “Well, I’m about to let a movie ruin me then.”

You were right. The movie already ruined you and you two were only half-way through. Tom had finished removing all the pins and flowers from your hair five minutes after the movie started, so he had the chance to watch the film properly.

Tom is now lying down comfortably, though he was elevated enough to watch the movie properly. You, on the other hand, are cuddling Tom. You had your head rested on his chest while he had his arm around you, his chin merely touching the top of your head.

How he managed to trick you into this you ask?

“Darling, I think you should cuddle me.” Tom requested as he ran his fingers through your hair one last time. He just finished removing all of the hairpins that managed to cause you pain and suffering all day.

“Why?” You asked appalled, not meaning to ask it with such tone.

“Because I’m shirtless and I’m cold.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have removed your shirt?”

“But it’s uncomfortable.”

“I don’t care”

“Okay, then I’ll just drive back to my hotel then, even though I’m pretty exhausted. I’m sure nothing bad will happen.” Tom sighed dramatically.

“God, you really are an actor, huh.” You snorted. “Fine, I’ll do it. I used to cuddle my friends anyway.”

“Are you friend zoning me?” He gasped, as he laid down.

“You are despicable, Holland.”

As you were half-way through the film, you can’t even remember how much you’ve cried already. You could hear the soft sniffles from the two of you as the movie progressed.

Your sniffles turned into full-on sobs when Héctor’s scene came on screen. He was singing to Chicharrón as a final ode before he passed on with no one from his family that were able to remember him.

“What the fuck is this film,” You commented in between sobs. “Why are they trying to ruin me like this?”

Tom rubbed your arm back and forth on, trying to comfort you. You were going through your packets of kleenex at rapid speed, as did Tom. You weren’t expecting to cry this much but here you are.

Tom wasn’t kidding when he said he was in bits when he saw this film.

“Tom, do you think they’ll room service us some Kleenex if we asked?” You asked him honestly, tears still spilling from your eyes. You knew your nose was red too because it started to hurt as you were continuously wiping it.

Tom laughed softly, crying too “’m not sure, darling.”

You lifted your head to take a good look at Tom, finding his eyes bloodshot red from crying and tear marks still visible from his face.

You used your thumb to wipe the tears from his face, making him laugh. “Why are you crying this much? I thought you’ve already seen the film?”

He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug, “’m not too sure. I didn’t expect I’d cry this much too.” He managed to chuckle.

“We really need to call room service for some Kleenex, Tommy.” You sniffled.

quick side note: i actually saw coco for the first time [as i wanted to stay true to what i was writing] and i was a mess. i wasn’t lying when i wrote whatever the reader went thru bc same.

TAGLIST:

@thomasthetankson @autty0314 @marvelous-tswiftfan @averyfosterthoughts @theolwebshooter @jackiehollanderr @sltwins @herondalescecilys @notjustpenandpaper @ihopethatwemeetinanotherlife @gothicwidowsworld @heartofholland @stxfxniexreads @peruvian-bae @hollands-osterfield @thenoddingbunny-blog @galacticstxrdust @sweartomendes @itsjstz @muade-mua-de @runway-to-my-aid @snowxbarryxendgame @cxlpxrnia @notasofti

CAN’T TAG:

@sectusempried

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domreaderrecs · 4 years

Note

Oh boy do I have some kink discourse for you. Here’s a wholeass list:

1. A female dominant does not need to be a sadist who is always torturing and abusing their sub. They can be soft and kind and caring.

2. Findom is a valid form of domination and is really a kink, it is not just women faking it to get money.

3. Online domination is possible, although there are more risks involved, it is still a valid form of domination.

4. Submissive black men are allowed to refuse to be called slave and their dom shouldnt be annoyed they can’t used their preferred honorific.

5. Kink and fetishes can be incorporated without the use of the power dynamic found in BDSM.

6. BDSM is still BDSM if the rope is pink and the outfit is white lace instead of red and leather.

7. It should be standard practice for there to be a safe word that means everything is fine so that the Dom can check in on the sub easily without breaking the scene.

8. It is only BDSM when both parties have discussed before hand, otherwise it’s sexual assault (yes that includes Chad who brought out the rope without warning and now Bethany is just going along because she likes him)

9. BDSM has always and will always be driven by the LGBT community.

10. Under 18 year olds do not have a place in the BDSM community. If they wish to learn, then they should do so by finding articles and books, not by asking people involved in the scene.

Yeah that’s about it for now. I’m realizing you probably didn’t want this much but oh well. We’re here now. Let me know what you think!

whewww so much to unpack here lets go its essay time

1. !!!! this is probably one of the most fundamentally misunderstood parts of femdom. it don’t gotta be ball crushing and whipping and calling him a worm all the time, or even at all. this is probably what turns so many women off from trying it or thinking they might be into a more dominant role. gentle femdom is way more palatable for beginners and for me personally, just way more enjoyable (even tho i definitely would wanna make a boy cry from time to time)

2. I used to be one of those people who looked down on findom. I still don’t understand why anyone would be into it tbh but findoms get a lot of shit for no reason... being a sugar baby is so glamorized but if you’re a findom you’re cold, or a bitch, or taking advantage. even though they’re both just people who get money from men who have money to throw at them for sexual favors... but one’s demonized and one’s all the rage... hm i wonder why

3. I have no real/successful experience with this... more on that in number 10

4. 100000%!! the stories i’ve seen from black subs in kink (mostly black women but still) are horrendous. a lot of doms will try to enforce a master/slave relationship, and try to exercise their authority to make subs agree to it. i know it’s a common dynamic, but that shit is wayyyy different to black people... any dom should know that. forcing your sub to do anything is wrong, but especially something so racially, historically, and culturally insensitive. and don’t get me started on the surprise “race play” stories i’ve heard... like i said doing anything without your sub��s consent is wrong but THAT kind of thing requires double consent with a cherry on top. this is part of the reason I’m so scared to enter the kink scene... this shit scares me. thats why the title mistress and master/slave dynamics in general just isn’t for me. it makes me think of my ancestors :/

5. again, 1000% agree. i’ve said this on my blog before, but i’ll say it again. not everything has to be dom/sub stuff. if you wanna peg your bf you don’t have to tie him up and call him names or boss him around, you can just peg him. i feel like ever since FSOG this whole dom/sub thing has grown way out of proportion, but that’s a whole other essay for another day

6. yessss I hate the stereotype of dom outfits as black, latex, leather, way too high to walk in boots... like does it look fire?? yes of course but pink and lace and knee high socks would make a fit that’s just as fire.

7. this is non-negotiable to me. whenever I hear someone say “I don’t like safe words” or “I/We don’t need a safe word” it’s just a red flag to me. idc what anyone says safe words are mandatory.

8. Yes. I feel like I shouldn’t have to say this but with the rise of the popularity of “rough sex” (again, thanks FSOG) there’s seems to be a rise in people who just assume their partner may be into something, or who just try to experiment on their partner without asking them first. I’ve heard a lot of friends and other girls talk about guys just going straight into choking them, spanking them, and pulling their hair without even asking if they like it (another reason I’m scared to get out there and do stuff, as a person who is very much not a sub or into being treated roughly or tossed around, it’s a big fear of mine). I’ve also seen a lot about girls just randomly trying to finger their boyfriends. If it’s not vanilla, and y’all haven’t discussed it, do not assume it’s on the table. We’ve gotten to a point that kinky stuff is so talked about and normalized (especially with young adults) that people forget it’s actually kinky.

9. period.

10. okay so story time, around the age of 15/16 is when I started to realize I was into kinky stuff. The preference had kinda always been there, but I couldn’t really place a name to it. I had always felt like an outcast among my peers when it came to the way they would talk about romantic and sexual relationships (I was a year ahead, so all my friends were 1-2 years older than me, so they started to do that stuff earlier than I did) because the things they talked about and liked were way different from the stuff I would think/fantasize about, so I always stayed quiet (teenage girls are very vocal about having choking/daddy kinks but that’s definitely indicative of a much larger problem that i will not get into bc that’s a whole other very very long essay that I will definitely write on here one day but not now). So when I found out what gentle femdom was I felt like I had a community that understood me, and everything just clicked. I would lurk on online communities and I lived for the discourse on there but I could never actively participate because every community had a strict “no minors” policy. They would say exactly what you said, “If minors wish to learn, then they should do so by finding articles and books, not by asking people involved in the scene.” I didn’t want to make anyone catch a case and I didn’t want to get targeted by predators so I tried to follow their advice. i found nothing. There honestly just isn’t that much educational stuff for “kinky teenagers”, or at least none that fit me. There was no femdom oriented stuff. I mean sure there was the standard “consent is important especially in bdsm relationships” but like that didn’t really help me. I had so many questions, that I could never feel comfortable asking my mom or a therapist, and especially not my friends. I didn’t know how to express this part of myself. I couldn’t talk to anyone about it and I couldn’t even watch porn like a normal teenager (we all know the state of femdom porn. its bad) so I was this ball incredible frustration and confusion and i didn’t know what to do with it. So I unfortunately turned to twitter. There I made a little like minded friend. he was also 16 so i thought “this is good, a non adult also kinky teenager who I can relate too. what could go wrong :)”(I’m sure you see where this is going) I was so excited to have a new friend, but ofc, our convos soon took a turn. However, since he was the first person to ever show interest in me, and the only person my age who i could talk to who understood me, i started to catch feelings. But he was a teen just like me, just as horny and confused and sooo immature. He started to pressure me into domming him/becoming his domme, but I refused because I wasn’t ready (i saw on one of those online communities I used to lurk in that its not healthy for your first sexual experience to be bdsm and I took that to heart). he ghosted me. needless to say that “friendship” was toxic. i realized too late that he only saw me as a kink dispenser, and didn’t care about me on a personal level. it also made me realize how not “mature for my age” I was. i say all this to say, NO, teenagers should not be participating in kink. they are not mature enough. however education and resources for them are not where they should be. if we want to discourage them from putting themselves in these situations, we need to better provide them with education and healthy ways to relieve these urges/feelings (i eventually took up writing, it helped me a lot). i feel like had i found a healthier and safer way to express/explore that side of myself, I would’ve never gotten in that situation to begin with. That experience has kinda put me off from dipping my toe into the actual community (well that and the lack of diversity but we’ve already talked about that)

ALSO the amount of very young children i’ve seen in the kink “community” on twitter is alarming... you’re not a little you’re 12

anyways, thanks so much for this essay of an ask and sorry i wrote an essay in response to each one lol but like I said I could discuss kink all day

#thanks anon #thanks shel #more kink discourse #thoughts

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hclles-blog · 6 years

Text

hey guys ! this has been sitting in drafts for at least a day now, but trust me when i say i’m as excited as i was when typing this fucking monster of an intro SDKFGJKFD but i’m jules, kard and clc supremacist and a struggling student about to apply to the english faculty of my uni ! like i said, this is a super long intro, so get settled as i introduce asteria’s resident skating brat halle, a bitch who overworks and doesn’t know how to chill long-term !! stats page is HERE for your reading pleasure, extensive plots and an extra list of options are linked accordingly !

jeon somin, cis female, she/her. — have you seen ( hyunmi “halle” chae ) around ( hecate ) ? they’re a ( twenty-two ) year old ( senior ) who’s majoring in ( kinesiology. ) i know they’re busy with ( dance club, women’s volleyball, and kappa delta sorority ), but you should tell them to check their latest starred rating ! ( jules, 21, she/her, gmt-3:30. )

honestly she is.. fucked sgjfsgdkl

this is mostly a carbon copy of an intro i’ve made for her in the past, so while some random points seem a Little dated or repetitive, they’re valid enough to stay here sfdlgkdg

i’ve had inspo for her after the olympics and rly wanted to use her somewhere, so if some things here seem a little.. idk, farfetched for your taste, we’ll pin it on that sfdgkdfj

this is her as popular vines

so chae hyunmi aka halle, ulsan born, raised in seoul and relocated to toronto, canada with her parents, little sis and partner to train bc..

she’s a figure skater, good enough to win ( .. junior ig ) titles when she was in her early teens, so it was only inevitable for her to leave for toronto to train with the Best eventually

she’s competed in international competitions, as part of a pair, and made her olympic debut in sochi by the skin of her teeth; her highest placement was third place ( not at sochi pls sgjkld she prob ranked in the top ten at best ), so she’s got a medal or two to her name

ultimately it was after sochi that she saw her coach and ( ex ) partner intervene with her.. unhealthy practicing habits

she’s a perfectionist through and through, so of course she’d spend hours on the ice at just seventeen/eighteen years old, even younger tbh, to get a routine right. but she pushed herself harder and harder, where small missteps would lead her to fall hard and recover for days on end, even spraining her ankle just before competition season was to begin

so when her coach insisted she take a break, her parents following suit, it was with good reason — one that she didn’t fucking see fsdkgkl

even so, them pushing her to prioritize education for a bit, to get ahead of the skaters who would prob only be able to do so upon retirement in a good few years’ time, and hanging up her skates until she saw it as.. less than something she needed to abuse herself to feel comfortable with, for as long as they would do so led to her resolve shattering and her applying for universities in canada, the us and sk ( the sly brat reasoned that it’d be nice to be reconnect with her roots.. for the sake of having something going for her beyond just competing in pyeongchang ! )

but the latter wound up being a bust bc she opted for asteria u, close to some of the popular yet secluded skate clubs the greats went to during their off-season training.. and before tr*mp got elected bc she would’ve cancelled everything, demanded her money and scholarships back, had she arrived after that LSDFGJFKLD

should be noted that her grades were good, she had a super brief volunteering stint and she’s a rising star ( well, was.. the bitch wouldn’t be competing again anytime soon to keep herself where she was within the skating circuit ) in her favoured sport, so she deemed all of this inevitable sfkljfdgk

though the school didn’t and still doesn’t offer its own skate club so, that was a slight drawback for the invested bitch

the transition wasn’t too hard ofc; she got comfortable with the campus and was back on the ice in no time, joining one of those aforementioned skate clubs under her parents’ noses and making the most of it as comeback/olympics prep

she saw herself as poised to be added to the roster once again, now a singles prospect after a major falling out with her longtime partner for one too many dumb bitch moves, and was desperate for it; however the stars didn’t align back in 2017 during her sophomore year, when she just missed obtaining qualification while now on canada’s roster on a technicality, and nothing could’ve compared to the agony that was missing her chance in something she invested sm practice, time and compliance with the people around her to pull through and get to pyeongchang

she’s still distraught over it, it’s been a couple of years since that happened and she gets emo real quick, misty-eyed if you bring it up ( she uh, has issues with moving on from things if you can’t tell )

suffice to say she resents her coach for his minor contribution in fucking her and himself over, dropped him out of anger ( a move she.. does feels bad abt on a personal level but professionally ?? pft ) and linked up with one back in toronto who she’ll begin seeing when she’s “ prepared ” to give it a shot again

meaning she’s currently on hiatus from the sport, but she knows a good few people think her career is Over now — and it pisses her the Fuck off

studying kinesiology despite wanting to be a skating coach when she retires as a competitor, bc she rly loves being active and thinks she’d be a resource in the field down the line ok ??

anyways, she’s found new things to invest her time in, such as the sorority, dance club and volleyball

dance helps with the choreo for her routines.... or Did, but we all know she’s still doing Some amount of skating on the side so

and it helps in areas where muscle memory and years of flexibility can’t quite do so

volleyball’s a great second option for her as a sport, mostly bc she can exert as much of her frequent frustration as possible into a game and act like it’s just her being into it. though she really can be That competitive, as you can see, rather than bratty

so, moving onto other things —

personality and other shit

she is.. a mess rly

inflexible, independent, charismatic, etc

most of her actual personality is further down oops dsfgjklfg

kinda detached ?? like she doesn’t want too many distractions and she deems relationships as the fucking Worst for it.. she’s had some pals from skating with potential go downhill when they got too deep with certain partners or just with too many side hobbies, social obligations, so she’s trying to be level-headed while not destroying her social life ?

idk it’s hard to explain, she’s an enigma even to me in that area

only dated once or twice. the first time being when she was like nine. with her first pairs partner that she quickly ditched.

not.. super sexually active either ( rip ?? )

but she’s been Involved with people so fdskng

on the ice, or just in whatever she’s applying herself to, she’s domineering and blunt, v strict on herself though she’s slacked off a bit over the years.. so imagine how self-disciplined — in the worst of ways — she was when she was younger

with a rigorous work ethic like hers, her being a leader among those at the local skating club implies that she’d be strict too with what little power she has.. but she’s kinda chill overall ?? tho you still have to get your twizzles right before the end of the day, don’t care that the hockey players will be out in two ! let’s go !

uh.. her attitude carries over with a Lot of things. she especially has no time for people who are Committed to their sport but show poor performances bc of laziness, distractions, etc. so brace your kids for hurricane halle ??

call her ice queen. try it. try it. GKFDJKGDSF she hates that nickname 95% of the time, usually bc she assumes people are basing it off of her initial/professional demeanour first and her passion second

she rly just has a hard shell where it matters, aka her career and stuff, but is a semi-precious gem overall

or, for a better way to describe it though it sounds like i’m just repeating myself: she gives off Proper head bitch vibes ( subtract the Need to feel powerful in being a piece of shit to anyone who walks past you ) but she’s really just a blunt and serious brat with a super dry and at times menacing sense of humour

she won’t hesitate to call you out on your shit or make it clear that she doesn’t like you, though, even if she appears cordial on the surface

as a result, hockey players HATE her !

bc she rips into them the most for frequently poor experiences with her fellow ice people. most of which are them hogging her reserved practice time, and being thirsty and pretentious dicks about it within and outside of the arena

kind of dramatic and a meme ngl, curses quite a bit, whips out korean or her conversational-level french far too often — especially if she’s shit-talking bc you made an ugly choice but is trying to be a Supportive Friend

english name came from halle berry bc hyunmi thought she was rly pretty on all the red carpets her mom would have on growing up sfgdkjflk

unwinds with the usual netflix and wine

oH also prob still hurts herself by overworking, especially after That Lost Opportunity, i hate

she’s pan but..... girls disappoint her far less than guys so she has a preference djfgskgdkf

all of that being said, it clearly plays into how she’s perceived by others, so —

her view and reception on starred

she..... probably doesn’t do too hot tbh

well. maybe she Does if starred's social ladder resembled most high school/college shows, movies.... rps, but it doesn't really so —

in all fairness, she probably does do better than i'm assuming rn bc.. she Is a character of sorts, who knows gskfksl but MOVING ON !

her blunt and kinda snarky attitude is partially Why she hates this point system, bc people tend to kiss ass just so they aren’t given a low rating whereas she can only hold back about 5% of her unfiltered opinion — but that’s IT !

tbh she relies heavily on her involvement in extracurriculars, and especially her public image from her glory days, more so than she herself to keep her head above water

so she looks entitled from that alone

given the way i’ve played her in the past, ik she might come across as a hbic type: thinks she’s the best ( which.. she kinda does sjkfgd ), savours the power she tries to or does in fact exert, doesn’t come across as particularly sympathetic or nice, etc

but she’s just a shit disturber with thick skin and a slight kink for receiving admiration and respect, puts herself first a little too much

in fact, she doesn’t really Care to hold people by a leash, but yeah, it can come across much differently since her tone never really Shifts if she doesn’t know you well, doesn’t trust you, knows you’re naive with such things, doesn’t like you, is just fucking around or in a sour mood.... the list goes on

so if your character focuses on who’s the nicest or most cheerful when giving high ratings, makes a v quick judgment on their character from a first impression, she’s gonna be near the bottom of their list dfsghkfgj

and like i said, she doesn’t care for the system Enough to change any of this, so she gets by

KDFJGSKFL uh, let’s end it there bc this is painfully long — congratulations if you’ve made it to the end of this intro from hell ! if anyone wants to plot, like this or im me !! ( ps, if you prefer d*scord like yours truly, just ask for it or send me yours ! )

#╳┊: — these are stacy's baby ! •「 ooc. 」#starred:intro #y'all i'm SO sorry this got so long kfdgkgsdj

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 6 years

Note

you don't have to write it if it doesn't speak to you, but i just read and loved your fic where peter calms tony down from a panic attack, and now i offer a Good Concept: Peter trying to help Tony get through a meeting at SHIELD when Tony's spacey and in pain from a headache/fever?

@taylortut !!!! I really like this prompt girl!!

In the course of his lifetime Tony has witnessed the discovery of alien life, multiple alien invasions, discovering that the very threads of his reality all coincided within 6 stones, and yet he had never been more confused in his life up until this moment.

Everything Nick Fury says seems to be a jumble of words that don’t seem to be any language, perhaps some alien language but even then they’re barely even audible. They’re all slurred together and seemingly slowed down like his VCR tape had just malfunctioned.

He feels warm and hot all over and he felt like his face was on fire but his lower half was stuck in the middle of the arctic, and he wanted to scream. There was part of him that wanted to throw a tantrum and crawl up on the floor wailing in agony, but he was a grown man who was much respected with a very strong image to pursue and doing such a thing was..out of character, to the say the least.

Tony doesn’t remember the last time he felt this sick, hell, he doesn’t even think he’s ever felt this sick in his entire life. He grits his teeth together as he braces this headache that comes in ravaging like a hurricane in his head, destroying every cell in his brain. His fists are balled intensely in an attempt to anchor himself through this whirlwind of pain, and he doesn’t know if he’s really not concealing his discomfort well at all or Peter is just this observant but either way he can sense that the kid is staring holes into him.

Peter, as always, is kind and loving, with a soul softer than his damn hair, which is pretty damn soft. He doesn’t stare at Tony with malicious or judging intent, he stares at him with genuine concern and worry, and this sort of nervous energy he sort of sees in himself. He knows this kid isn’t his, but it sure feels like it.

Peter doesn’t quite know sign language all too well, he’s only just started after all (because he was an avenger now, all the avengers know sign language for Clint, why was he any different? and yes, Mr Stark, he was an avenger now) and he seems to be making up his own bizzaro form of sign language, which mostly consisted of an equally outlandish series of facial expressions. Tony has absolutely no clue what this kid is trying to communicate, but he can only assume is a, ‘you okay?’

As dumb and ridiculous as this exchange is, at least its amusing and it’s giving him a break from everything else that’s going on. Peter’s great at that. He gives him a little break from everything in the world that’s shitty and bleak and shows him what’s right with the world. His headache hurt a little bit less.

Tony raises an eyebrow in amusement.

Peter shows a bit agitation, frustrated he can’t quite get his point across, not wanting to interrupt Fury who seems to still be going on about these Ravagers he doesn’t really understand, and tries mouthing his message, but Tony pretends like he doesn’t understand, because yes he’s sick but he’s a little shit and being sick doesn’t stop that.

Peter, who’s directly in front of him, gives him a look that just tells him he knows what he’s up to. He looks absolutely done with him. He sighs dramatically, and goes on listening to some guy who’s started drone on and on about budget control. Tony knows he’s not really listening though and trying to discreetly check in on him, and he makes a mental note to see about teaching Peter a thing or two about stealth.

But all the joking and lighthearted tomfoolery doesn’t last long and it fades quickly and the storm starts up again. He feels awfully lightheaded and his head hurts so much, his whole body is heavy and he feels lost. It’s like he’s disconnected and disassociated and he’s simply hovering around, him and his body seeming to not connect. He feels a little delirious like his entire body is slowly dying off in a desert and his face is burning.

He feels like his body is begging for rest, gripping at his chair to anchor himself as he’s hit with yet another tidal wave of pain, nausea, and hot and cold waves and Peter seems to sense this. He eyes him worriedly, trying to keep up his discreet charade but he gives it up.

“Do you guys want some water?” Peter chirps up suddenly, interrupting the guy who’s still on about budget control, earning himself an annoyed look. He blushes a little as he realises what he’s done is a little rude, but to him Tony’s welfare is more dire right now than how much money is being allocated towards a new doorway.

“You can get some if you want, Mr Parker,” He sighs, teeth gritted and quickly resuming his bit.

Tony shoots Peter a tired look but the kid is gone in a flash, and when he’s gone it’s like everything is much worse because there’s no one to sulk at. He stifles a cough into the tailored fabric of his suit jacket, going relatively unnoticed which he’s glad for. He lets himself slump just a little, not too much, he still has an image, but he lets that image go just the tiniest bit.

Every second Peter is gone seems to last an eternity and a half. The world does by in this agonisingly slow pace, it seems to blur out of focus so his headache is heightened and he can practically hear his head throbbing. He feels so incredibly faint and so horrible he doesn’t know if he’s even here, it’s a nightmarish version of his life that is so surreal and trippy without the promise of a high.

Eventually Peter returns with a cart full of glasses, and passes some to random people in the conference room. Tony thinks about how out of place he looks, but he understands it for him and it makes him love the kid a lot more now. He wheels the cart towards the him, and passes him a glass of cold water that his brain is crying tears of joy for, as well as a oddly folded napkin.

Tony eyes it suspiciously and lifts the fold to reveal two aspirins and all he can do is give Peter the look of pure gratitude and euphoria.

Peter deliberately drops a napkin to crouch down and whisper, “I got them off this really nice lady called Daisy–you owe me one.”

He discreetly pops the pills into his mouth and gives Peter a nod, taking a good sip of his water. He doesn’t normally accept good actions like this so casually, but he lets his pride go because the sense of gratitude and appreciation he feels outweighs any sense of gargantuan ego he has.

And then everything felt like it was going to be fine. ‘Hell yeah I’m gonna make it through this’, Tony thinks proudly, his headache hurts and the cold and hot waves are rushing up and down him in the most uncomfortable way but he can handle this. He can hold on. Things are actually going in his favour for once. Everything is okay in the world.

But then hell breaks loose and Tony’s world is entirely shaken and flipped and nothing is okay.

He doesn’t exactly know what’s happened because his mind is focused solely on not passing out and keeping up a healthy facade, but he thinks Thunderbolt Ross said something that pissed off Fury and they’re yelling and they’re so loud and there’s more voices yelling and it’s all meddling and it’s just too much.

There’s a ringing in his ears and the room is closing in and Tony can hear his heart thumping and he can feel it and the dull roar of the ringing is now a shrill shriek. The lights seem to be fading in and out and the sounds only seem to get louder and everything seems to be heavier and weighing down on him

and Tony is drowning.

Tony swallows hard as his heart races and his breathing shallows and his hands are sweating. He grips the chair hard and tightly and the pressure he’s applying is so much he can feel the skin of his palms straining and his skin burns. He looks around wildly, his lip trembling and he’s shaking and he feels so lost. He feels so sick and his body cannot handle any more and he’s losing control fast and Tony more than anything hates losing control because he feels like he’s floating away and he feels so hauntingly light.

He desperately wants to ground himself and come back because he’s so terrified he’ll float away so far he can never come back. But then his gaze locks upon Peter’s and it’s like he’s grabbed his hand just before he’s fallen off the cliff into nothingness.

And he still feels like he’s teetering off the edge but he’s still here, and as Peter gives him the kindest look he’s ever seen he feels himself being brought back up to the surface slowly but surely. Everything else seems to fade into a dull roar and he focuses his entire entity on to him.

‘Breathe’, Peter mouths, and he begins to breathe in and out slowly and steadily, gesturing for him to follow suit.

Tony nods shakily, and slowly tries to match him. He’s off tempo and he’s rushing, coming in a bit too early but he gets a sense of the rhythm and follows him, never once tearing his gaze, completely locked on him. And he feels safe. He’s still here.

Peter gives him a smile, a proud smile, and Tony’s left wondering what he ever did to deserve such a sweet person in his life.

Peter’s face shifts and he pulls out his phone, pretending to read a text, and it’s really obvious, and the mental note Tony made to teach Peter about stealth seems to climb up quite a bit.

“Uh, guys?” Peter interrupts the chaos that is Shield’s conference room, earning a particularly venomous look from that budget control guy from earlier.

“Yes, Mr.Parker?” Ross sighs.

“Uh, I just got a text from Mr Rhodes and he says he needs myself and Mr Stark like..uh..urgently?” Peter lies.

“Just go,” He brushes off quickly, seemingly uninterested and diving right into his angry tangent.

Peter gestures towards Tony, raising his eyebrows and heading towards the door. Tony follows, the journey a horrendous trek that seemed to leach every single joule of energy remaining in his body. He keeps himself straight and professional, but the moment the doors closed he feels his knees buckling and his body becoming light and his world begin to tilt.

Peter was quicker, his instincts alert and responsive and in a swoop his arm was catching him and pulling him upright, supporting and caring.

“We gotta get you home, Mr.Stark, I’ll call Happy,” Peter suggests, his grip strong but not hurtful in any sense.

“You shouldn’t see me like this,” Tony laments, remorse and shame lacing his words.

“Why not?”

“Your role models shouldn’t be weak.”

Peter is silent for a moment, but he softens, “All my heroes aren’t perfect.”

“Captain America was the scrawny little guy from New York,” Peter explains softly, and chuckles, “Just like me.”

“Dr Banner has some mental health problems. Hawkeye is hard of hearing. Black Widow used to be an assassin. Winter Soldier’s going through some pretty serious trauma, and so is Falcon. The Scarlet Witch worked with Ultron. And Thor..uh, he seems pretty perfect but uh, I’m sure there’s something–oh yeah, he’s got pretty strong emotions he can’t resist sometimes.”

“But my point is.. All my heroes aren’t perfect . And neither are you and that’s okay. It helps me know that I can be somebody too, you know?” Peter says, and looks over at him to give him a reassuring smile that tells him everything will be okay.

“I..didn’t have a lot growing up and seeing that my favourite heroes don’t have everything makes me feel like I can really do something with my life, you know? All I need..is that drive to make the world better, right? So yeah, no, I gotta disagree with you Mr Stark, my role models don’t have to be always strong. They just gotta keep trying.”

Tony can’t help his smile, “The whole world should be like you, kid. Kids like you remind me about why we do this.”

Tony puts a hand on his shoulder and brings him a bit closer, “Now, enough sap talk and let’s get me the hell home.”

#tony stark #peter parker #iron dad #spiderman #iron man #spiderman homecoming #marvel #mcu #sickfic #tw panic attacks #whump #sick tony #fever #hurt/comfort #prompts #marvel cinematic universe

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hoe-imaginess · 7 years

Note

Shino Aburame scenario please? He's a favourite character of mine that feels so unloved

I did a modern high school AU scenario draft if that’s cool bc I just love those AUs and it seemed to work so like???? Scenario drafts work well with modern AUs idk why. And I assumed you wanted it with a s/o but I started this as a reader insert my bad? Hopes this is okay

Shino scenario draft

You’ve known Shino for years. Ever since you first started school, you can remember him being there.

You can remember him finding slugs and beetles out in the school yard, showing them off like prized possessions and making girls squeal and run. You remember how he answered every science question correctly without fail, making you and your other classmates feel either incompetent or annoyed. He had a habit of rubbing people the wrong way sometimes. But not you.

It was in high school that you two first had a class together. It’s then that you started watching him. He piqued your curiosity. There was so much to him. Shino was always so standoffish. But why? You know he has friends. A lot of them, judging by the niche he’s acquired over the years. Naruto Uzumaki, Kiba Inuzuka, Shikamaru Nara, and a number of others that to you never seemed like a crowd Shino would mingle with. Yet he seemed to fit in without much trouble. But still, for a guy with so many friends, he was so… to himself. Why? Was he shy? Anti-social? You could never figure it out.

Bothered by his habitual silence, you take initiative one day and speak up.

“Hey Shino… how did your science project go?” Not that you were truly invested in the answer, but you had heard his project gained major praise from the science department. It was something about the metamorphosis of moths compared to butterflies. You didn’t understand the hype yourself, but you wouldn’t expect anything less from Shino.

Although he’s mildly surprised by your question, probably because you two haven’t spoken beyond partner work all this time, he still offers you the courtesy and answers you.

“Fine.”

“Oh.” The brevity of his reply isn’t surprising, but you forgot how flat his tone could be. “That’s good.”

The atmosphere doesn’t change after that. It’s almost as if your initiative meant nothing at all. It doesn’t offend you. It doesn’t annoy you. The fact he replied at all is enough to make you happy.

Conversations with Shino don’t become much easier as the year goes on. But at least he’s giving you the time of day.

He still keeps to himself for the most part, but you get more and more out of him each passing day. Mostly snide comments under his breath. Sometimes about other kids in class acting up, sometimes about the teacher being incompetent. As cold as these comments might seem, they always make you chuckle. At least you’re beginning to see what kind of guy Shino is. Whimsical in his own respect, and much more fascinating than you previously thought.

He would never admit it, but he’s starting to think the same way about you.

Shino is in your class again the following year. He seems familiar enough with you that he willingly chooses to take the seat next to you on the first day. A blessing in two respects, since science is your worst subject, and his forte. Now he’s your lab partner. You’re certain that will save you from a low mark this year. And, it again provides you the opportunity to get to know him better.

He can still be rather withdrawn at times. If you dare strike impulsive conversation during class, even if it’s just a silly comment, he ignores you. It’s as if the lecture is his only focus. In fact, he even chastises you one day.

“You should be paying attention to the lesson,” he tells you, after your attempt at a sly joke fails to resonate.

It startles you, but doesn’t upset you. If anything, it’s amusing. For whatever reason, over the time you’ve really known him, his attitude does nothing but amuse you. He probably expects it to be intimidating. Authoritative, even. He wants you to take him seriously. But you can’t. He’s too… cute.

You just smile a knowing smile and turn your attention back to the teacher.

The year goes on. Shino is much friendlier… or at least, his version of friendly. He doesn’t seem to brush you off as easily as he used to. It’s as if you’ve gained his trust. Although, that might be a reward for entertaining his bug affinity and asking him questions throughout your science class together. No matter how adverse he seems to conversation, if you ask about a bug, he’s more than happy to answer. In fact, you’ve never seen him talk as much as he does than when he’s telling you about insects.

It’s a little weird, but you like it.

Already convinced that Shino is the reason you were getting good marks in science, you had to persuade him into partnering with you on the big upcoming project. He didn’t seem very enthused at the prospect. As far as you knew, he preferred working alone. So you were surprised when he agreed.

You catch up to him as he walks home one day. “Shino!”

He seems off-put by the way you run up to him, but he turns to give you his attention, nonetheless.

“_______.”

“Are you busy? I thought we could work a little on our project now.”

He pauses. He’s mildly concerned that you’re becoming much too persistent. It’s a little annoying. Yet he can’t find it in him to ignore you. “It’s a Saturday.” Of course you can’t see his expression behind the glasses, but his tone lets on to the hesitance. “Don’t you have things to do?”

“Nope, not really. I would rather get started on the project. Besides, we’re both free.”

“I never said I was free.”

“Well. Are you?”

Another pause.

“Yes.”

“Well, good! Where should we go?”

Your enthusiasm visibly confuses him. Maybe you were coming on too fast. But you can’t help it. He’s being more compliant than usual and you have to take advantage of that.

“I don’t know,” he says.

“Your house maybe? If that’s okay? It’s close, isn’t it?”

He wants to ask how you know where he lives, but he’s too busy thinking about the proposal. He’s reluctant. His parents probably wouldn’t mind. They were always so busy with the family business. The house was probably empty anyway. Besides, you were just his lab partner. That’s it. Nothing wrong with a lab partner coming over to his empty house on a Saturday evening, right?

“Sure.”

And you two are on your way.

For a week, you see Shino every day after school to work on the project. You two work well together, for the most part. But his strange attitude has been puzzling you.

One day he’s open and comfortable; the next, he’s closing himself off. The routine is tiresome. His cold nature bothers you. Before, it never did. You didn’t even bat an eye at the demeanor because it was all you had ever known. But now, it’s upsetting. You had finally cracked his shell, only to be pushed away once again. What was going on? Had you done something to regress?

These little moments of confusion are remedied when he goes soft around you. It’s the little things. Asking if you’re hungry, offering to cook for you. Asking you about yourself, something he had never done in the years you had known him. It makes you happy, thinking that he might actually care. To see this side of him feels like a gift.

The routine becomes something you look forward to. Working on your project doesn’t sound so tedious as the days go by. All seems well, but there is one afternoon where his demeanor makes you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

He’s been quiet, almost too quiet. Every time you try to talk to him, he offers no reply. At most, a little grunt, one that suggests you not speak again. At first, you think he’s just busy concentrating. But then you realize he’s actually trying to ignore you.

This continues for a few days. Was something wrong?

You have to ask for your own sake. “Is everything okay, Shino?”

“Fine.”

But that’s not a normal response. If everything was fine, he might have asked a reason for the inquiry. That’s how he was, quick to question your curiosity if he thought it was unsolicited. So no, everything isn’t fine.

Was he upset with you? Was he annoyed? Perhaps with your worth ethic? Not that you slacked and left the workload to him, but Shino was a man who didn’t forgive ignorance. Especially when it came to his science and bugs. If you didn’t understand something, he would rather do it himself than take the time to explain. You had pointed out before how unproductive that was, but he didn’t seem to take you seriously. His arrogant undertone wasn’t new. But something was definitely off as of late. Whatever glow of potential friendship you had once felt is dwindling… and it hurts, in a way.

“You’re acting strange,” you point out to him, knowing it might be a little too bold.

“No I’m not.”

But he is. He most definitely is. You don’t think he’s even looked at you once since you came over that day.

“Is everything alright?” You keep pressing because it’s the only thing you know how to do with Shino.

“Fine.”

But it’s not.

“If you don’t want to work on the project today that’s fine with me.” You wonder if he’s tired. He worked so hard all the time. “We can just take a break. Are you hungry? We can—”

“If you don’t want to do any work then just say so. Just leave. I can do it on my own.”

You stare at him. The words were spoken with such bitter spite. It almost didn’t sound natural. “What?”

“I don’t have time to waste.” He writes something down on his lab report, seemingly unbothered by your confusion and fluster. “I’ll just finish this myself. I’ve done everything up to this point anyways.”

Now the confusion shifts into frustration. “I’ve tried to help, Shino.” Were you at fault if he prevented you from contributing? “But you act like I’m… stupid.”

“You’re not.” But there’s no reassurance or repentance in his voice. He still won’t even look at you.

“Then why can’t I help?”

“You obviously don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Okay, then teach me.”

“I don’t have time. It’s easier if I just do it on my own.”

“But then you complain that I’m not helping. You see how this isn’t working out, right?.”

Finally, he looks at you. Even behind the dark lenses of his glasses, you can feel his scrutinizing gaze. Not hateful, but not soft either.

It frustrates you more than it intimidates or disappoints you. All you’ve done up to this point is tolerate his attitude. Stayed out of his way when necessary because you know his personality can be assertive every bit as it can be reticent. What had you done to warrant this?

“Shino, we’re partners.” You surrender the anger that almost takes over your tone. “I want to help.”

“If you want to help, then just leave. I need to do it on my own. You can go home.”

You’re about to protest again, but the reality of the situation hits you. Maybe you were just a nuisance this entire time. Someone whose company he tolerated, not enjoyed. Had you been going about this the wrong way? Blinded by your own excitement? You hadn’t even stopped to consider whether or not he was as content as you were being ‘friends’.

You do as he says. You leave, with your heart hurting the whole way for some unknown reason.

He doesn’t talk to you at school the next day. You don’t say anything to him either, too scared to start conversation.

It saddens you to think you’ve ruined what was there—no matter how small it was. You thought you two were getting close. Closing the gap that kept you from friendship for so long. But maybe you had overestimated the relationship.

You try to think back on the whole thing. You two had conversations aside from the project. Fun conversations, at least to you. Conversations friends would have. He seemed to open up around you. Wasn’t aloof and quiet like he was with others. Hell, you even sat with him at lunch some days and saw how he interacted with his friends. It didn’t seem very different from how he was starting to treat you. You felt special. You felt happy.

So what went wrong?

Maybe it was too much for him. Maybe you came on too strong. Maybe he was only enduring you for your portion of the project. That seems logical enough. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve lost a friend… which should make this easier, but it’s not.

You didn’t even know him that well. Why did it bother you so much? Why did you dread going to class and seeing him every day since it happened? You didn’t know. But the mix of guilt and anger was certainly taking its toll.

The first time he talks to you since the incident is the day before your project is due.

“Is there anything else you want to add to the project before tomorrow?” His voice is so dull and detached, it hardly sounds like a question. He’s not even looking at you.

Still, it’s a futile question. Why would he give you the courtesy when all he had done up until this point is criticize your participation? A sharp retort is caught on your tongue. You’re sure he would have one in response. But you were too emotionally drained to test that. You couldn’t fathom tarnishing your relationship with him any further—if it could even be called that at this point.

“No,” you tell him. “It’s whatever you decide.” You hope your tone isn’t as brash as it sounds in your head. He doesn’t seem to notice. Regardless, he still won’t look at you.

“Fine.”

Then class is over, and he leaves you sitting there. Confused, guilty… and yearning.

You get the highest mark possible on the project. You don’t thank Shino, though you wonder if he’s expecting gratitude. If he is, he doesn’t make it apparent. He doesn’t seem interested in speaking to you again for a long time.

You’ve learned to accept it. Something went wrong, obviously. What exactly, you don’t know. You stopped trying to guess.

It hurts for a week or two. Fortifying your relationship with Shino had been encouraging. You looked forward to seeing him every day. It actually made school bearable. Now, it’s back to enduring. All while trying to ignore the tension between you two now.

He surprises you one day after class by asking if he can speak to you alone. You think about declining. Politely, of course. Politely as you can, given the bitterness that has gathered with your situation. But you somehow can’t deny him.

You two wait until the classroom is empty. Even behind his glasses, you can see his discomfort. His demeanor is stifled by hesitation.

It’s a long moment before he breaks the silence. “You’ve been very quiet in class.”

You stare blankly. You hadn’t expected that. Was he serious? Is that all he had to say?

“Well… yeah.”

“Is there something wrong?”

“Something wrong?” He couldn’t possibly be so oblivious. He was either repressing the friction he had caused or hoping you had forgotten about it already. Thin chance. “You mean besides the fact you brushed me off and didn’t talk to me for a month?” The spite comes through more than you intended it to, but it’s too late to stop now. “Of course there’s something wrong.”

“I didn’t brush you off.”

“Then what would you call it? You made me feel stupid. You didn’t have to be like that, Shino. All I wanted to do was help.”

His expression doesn’t seem to change. Nothing about him changes. You would have thought that such contentious words would instigate him, but no. He looks as if he’s studying you.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” is all he says.

You would consider it an apology, if his tone wasn’t so indifferent. It made you feel unimportant. Like a nuisance. Which was the reason your little dispute had been so hurtful in the first place. Why Shino’s opinion of you was so critical, you didn’t know. But that’s just how it was now. And although you want to be mad at him, to pour onto him the mix of resentful emotions that had amassed over the weeks, you can’t.

If you really think about it, you knew you were at fault too, for expecting too much out of him. Everyone knew Shino was not an easy guy to deal with. He never had been. It was foolhardy to assume that working on a project together would remedy that.

“I know I can be difficult,” you say. It damages your pride, but it’s true. “And maybe I wasn’t the best partner. I’m sorry. You just made me feel so… irrelevant. If you didn’t want to work with me, why did you agree in the first place?”

Shino thinks. He could argue and remind you that your persistence was what made you two partners. He hardly had any say in the matter. But your question still remains. Why had he agreed if he knew you would be a nuisance? You had always annoyed him a little. Most people did. But it was different with you.

When you left that day, after he snapped at you, he didn’t feel a sense of relief or accomplishment. Not like he normally did when he ridded himself of a distraction.

He felt regret.

Pride aside, he always had a difficult time admitting when he was wrong. He was so used to chastising others for their errors that he had forgotten how it felt to feel guilty about his harsh words. Regret wasn’t something he felt often. But now, it’s too bothersome to ignore.

“It’s… fine,” he says.

You look at him, unfamiliar with such a civil response. “What?”

He sighs inwardly. Giving up on his pride was a great defeat. “You don’t have to apologize.” It did make his own apology—if that’s what this was—a little easier, though. “If anything, I was the bad partner.”

He doesn’t sound insincere. He sounds like he really means it. It’s almost enough to make you smile a little. “Are you sure about that? That doesn’t sound like you.”

Even if he’s not, it seems like a shame to hold any anger toward you. It’s not your fault. How could you know you were subject to his confusing emotions as of late? He didn’t know how to feel about you. He never has. He knows now that’s what prompted him to treat you so coldly. A defense mechanism to combat whatever odd feelings of fondness he had felt for you over the past few years. But he couldn’t tell you that.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks evenly.

It’s such a silly, innocent question. It didn’t sound like a question Shino Aburame would ask. You want to say yes, because truthfully, somewhere you are mad at him. Mad at him for treating you so callously. For making you feel so strongly for him.

“No,” you finally concede with a sigh. “We just got off on the wrong foot.” Almost two years ago, you think to yourself. He’s quiet after that, as though he’s waiting for you to carry the conversation. Maybe to salvage the civility you two are desperately seeking. “Maybe next time we’ll have to fine different partners.”

“Maybe.” And that’s all he says. Ever the taciturn one.

You nod in place of vain conversation. The demeanor between you two isn’t entirely mended, but it’s much more comfortable now. It’s odd how so few words on Shino’s end can remedy your mood. You don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

“So… do you want to make it up to me?”

Behind his collar, he frowns. “What?”

“Do you want to make it up to me?” He probably can’t detect the teasing edge to your voice. And that’s fine. It’s more fun that way. “You can take me to eat. I’m starving.”

You’re met with silence. Obviously, the humor doesn’t reach him.

“Why would I do that?” he asks, flat as ever.

“It’s the end of the week. You don’t treat yourself to good food at the end of the week?”

“No. Not usually.”

His dull attitude makes you laugh. It always has. You’re just glad you can enjoy it again.

“That’s fine then,” you say, a smile on your lips. The wind is picking up outside. If you don’t get home soon, you’ll be caught in the rain. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You’re hurrying in the other direction by the time he replies. “Yeah. I’ll see you.”

That next week, Shino does make it up to you. He asks you out to dinner.

#pls point out typos PLEASE #Is it weird I do second person but omniscient #this was awful i'm sorry #i should have ended it sooner idk what i even did i'm so sorry omg #i think i know who requested this i'm sorry fam ):#shino #naruto imagines #shino aburame #aburame shino

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elftwink · 7 years

Text

i have already complained a lot about how trans people are expected to hate themselves but i always notice how much it gets into fan content and it’s just... very frustrating and disheartening to see how we’re talked or written about

it just always seems like no one knows how to write a trans person without making the story they’re writing about how Sad And Tragic™ their life is and how they think only about dysphoria and it is bad enough to face that in actual media but to also have people do it in fan spaces, often overwriting actual canon content to make Tragic Transes™ is so exhausting, as a trans person myself

and specifically wrt to writing trans men, it’s so transparent to see who y’all assume is trans and why. don’t you think it says a lot that you only do this with feminine men? that you look at a cast and pick the most gender non conforming dude and go “oh he must be trans” (or, actually it seems more like “oh he must actually have been born a girl” bc that’s how yall think about us) and write sad stories about how He Was Born A Girl and Hates His Body or whatever, usually completely taking away the pride this character had in being feminine or the fact that it was a non-issue. you write them as ‘feminine’ in the sense that you think being a trans man implies inherent femininity when they are not connected at all, but you don’t actually let them be feminine.

also stop JUST picking the feminine dudes to hc as trans. and i know trans men can be feminine. i AM a feminine trans dude. which is why it ticks me off so much, because it’s not representation of feminine trans men, it’s you implying that we can’t help being feminine and that we should feel bad about it and mope and hate ourselves like fuck! it’s not rep! you’re not doing any favors here!

i’m sure you guys have seen other trans men talking about the whole “smol soft boy” shit that gets pulled (and i’ve also seen trans women saying the opposite happens to them: the whole ‘step on me/punch me in the face’ thing, the implication that trans women are more masculine, but i don’t want to dive too deep there bc i’m not a trans woman), and there’s nothing wrong with being a feminine man or a masculine women, but to imply we are that by virtue of being trans is. tiring and transphobic

we’re expected to conform more the gender roles of our assigned gender AND THEN hate ourselves for it. it’s implied that BECAUSE i am a trans man, i MUST be feminine (rather than it being just incidental in my case, or not true at all in the case of other trans men), and because i’m feminine i MUST loathe myself and my body. and it shows in your writing, and it shows that thats how you think of us, and mostly it shows that you don’t really think we’re our gender. that you think we’re a step down from Real Men

i’m tired of it. think critically about how you write trans characters or don’t write them at all.

#good idea generator #mmm ive been thinkin abt that post where meg touched on this wrt to trans juno & trans taako hcs for days now #it always rubs me the wrong way when the most feminine dude is the most popular trans hc like.. im uncomfortable #its like. trans men can be feminine but stop expecting us to be lol #this doesnt really even touch on how nb characters are written but this is already very long #also the wording of this is dumb bc it's a problem w/how trans ppl in general are written but #i'm definitely not an expert nor should i give my opinion on stuff thats not about trans men #also im not sure whether this is me and what i'm consuming or if it reflects in fan spaces in general #but i always find there's like. way more content written for transmasc ppl than transfem people #i do think part of its me bc sometimes i do look for content w/a trans dude as a character bc i like to relate #but i also do think fandom has a habit of erasing or ignoring trans women/trans feminine ppl

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spidergwenistrans · 5 years

Text

This is gonna be a little ramble-y and disjointed, it’s just a bunch of things that have happened over the last week or so.

I matched with my first girlfriend’s ex on Tinder

some backstory: we both thought we were straight, plot twist one: she’s gay, plot twist two: so am I, but not the way everyone in highschool thought I was.

also, idk why I still use Tinder, at this point I’m not sure what I’m looking for there, I don’t think it’s a relationship, maybe just more queer girl friends? I should probably put that in my bio...

I’ve been mostly identifying as lesbian in conversations with friends, but I think I might not exactly be? I’ve never looked at a (real) cishet guy and felt any sort of attraction, but like, I think it might just be cishet guys? Like, I’ve seen a lot of nonbinary folks on Tinder who are REALLY attractive to me, and like, I’ve always felt some attraction to androgyny, I might just be specifically turned off by cishet guys, because they’re Like That so much. Idk though, everything is weird right now because I don’t really have any sexual attraction at all right now? I just want cuddles and romance??? but like, I want them so much MORE than I ever wanted them or sex before?? And it’s not like I don’t still kinda want sex, just like, it’s WAY lower priority now.

I can’t remember exactly how we got onto the topic, but I was talking with my best friend about stuff, and at one point she said something about how dumb it is the way we socialise boys to only ever be emotionally vulnerable or intimate with their girlfriends, and that those are not sharing feelings in any other case (especially straight boys, I have yet to get any opinions on this from my gay guy friends, because they’re all shit at texting back, so please, if you have thoughts, weigh in). Anyways, so she said that, and it was like early in the day on a Friday, so I wasn’t ready to get Into All That right there, but I said I have some Very Specific and Heavy Emotions about that.

So fast forward to that night, and I’m explaining how it’s kinda dawned on me that I’ve never had an emotionally vulnerable or intimate relationship and not pretty much immediately started to have a huge crush on the person. My best friend in highschool (god bless my better judgement to squash those feelings, I’m so glad I still have her as a friend and that’s all I ever really wanted), one of the girls who was in Venturers with me (that’s scouts but older kids, for those who don’t know), she had a way of always turning the conversation to deep shit, and like gotdam if my brain didn’t immediately decide to fall in love, then there’s my last girlfriend, we were just friends as far as I knew (though it turned out she was very much trying to gt us to be more for a While) and like, she was the only person I talked to about anything even remotely deep, or emotional, or vulnerable for the whole almost 4 years.

Last spring, I went camping with another friend, and since we’re both disasters, we managed to forget most of the sleeping stuff you’d want to have at camp (sleeping bags, therma-rests, blankets....) so the first night, we suffered, the second night, while still sober, we decided, “fuck that, we’re gonna at least share body heat,” then we finished all the beer we’d brought with us.

It’s worth noting here, that this was barely even a week after I realised I wasn’t a cis dude, I’m in a super weird place, and desperately trying to figure out how to say what I’m thinking to one of my longest and closest friends, so I am goddam STRESSED. My heart rate was probably triple its normal the whole weekend.

So now, all you fanfic readers and writers out there, have some vindication, bed sharing does appear to inevitably lead to that...at least for me.

Now we skip ahead a little to later int he summer after my friend who went camping with me and I have decided, “you know what, no actually, let’s stay friends huh?”

And we’re hanging out at her house doing facemasks and watching Hasan Minhaj on Netflix, and I’m texting my best friend about something, and friend I’m with is like, “oooh do you have a crush on ____?” Now, to be clear, this was probably mostly shit-disturbing, because that’s who this friend is, she likes to tease me about this stuff, especially since she had to/got to hear all about my utter confusion leading up to dating my last girlfriend.

As it turns out (I’m not at all surprised), I’m incredibly suggestible, so now that thought is planted.

My best friend lives in Toronto, so like, there’s only a few times a year we get to see each other. Before this we’d hung out for a couple days between my being in BC and coming back to Ottawa. Next time we hang out is like June or July, we only had time to go for drinks, but as usual, we talked for literally hours. Then we don’t see each other again until new year’s. She came over and we watched Rogue One, asked me questions about the backstory (she hasn’t seen all of the star wars movies yet), and then we ended up talking until 8am the next day. Because that’s a long freaking night, she ended up kinda leaning on me/lying across me. Then we went skating later on in the holidays.

At this point my brain isn’t like freaking out or anything though.

Then she’s back in Ottawa over easter. We hung out one of the days, and watched Empire strikes back and talked a lot again, and kinda ended up cuddling on the couch, but not like all wrapped around each other, just like, lying next to each other really close, and she occasionally put her head on my shoulder or chest. Somewhere in this multi-hour quasi-snuggle something in my brain was like, “yes? YES” but not super loud yet.

Now we get into exams, we ended up talking on the phone for several hours one day after something happened at her work, and I’m starting to get more comfortable with the whole emotional vulnerability more regularly thing. So we’re talking more about the shit we’re going through when it’s rough, and also about being kinda touch starved in general.

sidenote: I didn’t really understand what it felt like to be touch starved until like the start of this month, idk if it was because I was kinda numbing myself to everything, or because hormones have changed the way I feel/experience the same emotions. Point being, I’ve never felt this upset about being touch-starved before in my life.

At this point my brain is starting to scream at full volume at me, “WE LOVE HER SOOO MUCH” which like I do? and always have? just like, I thought it was all platonic? Also like, the brain yelling gets worse whenever we talk on the phone, it so desperately wants me to do something, but like, phone is not compatible.

We’ve never had a clear delineation in terms of platonic/romatic though. Back in highschool, when we met, she and my first girlfriend were besties, and we also hung out at bit at school things like concerts (we were all band nerds) and we were accused of flirting?? (that’s a whole other thing though) and like, she’s been informing me a lot on stuff I didn’t get taught about being a girl, like makeup stuff, how to treat your boobs nice, and the art of removing a bra from under a shirt, some of which have included video tutorials?

And like, we’ve joked in the past about how different our lives might be now if we’d dated instead of the way things did go. And like, we’ve always been close, just like, I don’t think I ever thought she might actually want more than just friendship, and I’m not sure she does now?

So I explained all of this to her, except for the parts that she already knew, for that it was just about sharing the feelings I experienced. But like, the reason the comment about the way we socialise boys set me off like this is because I’m so frustrated by the fact that I can’t tell if this is like “genuine” (don’t like that, but it’s the best word I can come up with) or like, just because of being emotionally vulnerable and only knowing how to do that with romantic partners? Then like a day or two later, I had this dream where we were hanging out, and she was telling me about some boy, and how she has feelings for this boy, and holy shit the pang of jealousy I felt (and honestly had no right to feel) was goddam painful.

I also told my friend who went camping about all this, and she told me I was being silly and probably just overthinking it, like I usually do.

Last night, we were gonna talk on the phone again, because some shit happened at her work, but I had forgotten that my sister wanted us to see Detective Pikachu (great movie btw, I laughed so hard, and I probably would have cried a lot if I hadn’t kinda cried myself out a bit already this week), so we didn’t end up talking at all after the movie, which like, I felt/still feel pretty sad about, I was really looking forward to that phone call while I was at work. And like, we probably didn’t talk because she has lots of other friends to talk to too, and was just busy.

So right now I think the place I’m at with this is, like, maybe this is mostly because I still haven’t unlearned all the boy socialisation bullshit, but I don’t think that makes my feelings any less valid does it? But what am I gonna do about it if I accept the feelings? like, she lives in Toronto, I’m stuck in Ottawa for at least another school year, yeah I can go visit, sometimes, but like, would that be good or better for either of us? And all that is assuming she actually returns any of these feelings at all, which I’m really not sure about. And like, will it make it weird? like, I’d rather keep things as they are and have the good times we do when we hang out than throw it all away just because I have a crush.

I don’t want it to be weird for us to be physically close, just because my brain is screaming, because I’m literally just starting to be comfortable being physically close with friends (work through your shit people I have found baggage I didn’t know I had). Like, when she met me at the airport last spring, she started to go for a hug, but apparently I stiffened like I didn’t want it (I did, I still do) which was some kind of holdover from the weird aversion to hugs I developed in high school.

#mine #personal #text #Paislee talks about trans stuff #Paislee talks about relationships and shit #Paislee has Feelings #Paislee has dreams

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