#god I just want to be able to do things again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

just-some-random-blogger · 2 days ago

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I said I was going to reblog this when I woke up. That was today and now I'm sleepy and about to go to sleep but I REFUSSSE TO DO SO BECAUSE MY GOSSHHH THIS GOD MEEEEE SOMMEEEEEE TYPAAA WAYYYYY HELLO????????? 😫😫😫😫😫😫

Even if it was in a different way, you had a hard time refusing him when he used the same charm tactics as his twin brother.

I cannot put into words how this like... Changed my brain???? Like it's so beautiful and sensible and yah. That part. That would 100% happen if you were dating a twin like hello? Also idk the thought just makes me swoon ))))):

“Reckon we’re past that, hmm? Your problems are our problems, and all.”

JSJDJDJSJJSJSJSJJSHSHSHHSHA HES SO STUPID THIS IS WHY HES MY FAVE BB GIRL ARE YOU SINGLE IM TRYNA GET YOU PREGNANT AYO MY GUY WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNNNN WHEN YOU SAY THIS UR SO SILLY WTFFFFFF IM GIGGLING LIKE I GET PAID TO DO IT

“That’s a big deal.” He hummed, sympathizing with you to make you feel better. “Bloody inconsiderate, if you ask me.” But you weren’t asking him, and somehow his justification of your feelings only made you feel worse. “What? Not allowed to speak my mind?”

HE REALLY SAID SIS LOUDER AND

“If you’d rather, we can forget the elixir and grab dinner instead. I’m not Fred, but I’m pretty damn close.” He gave you a cheeky smile, earning an honest laugh from you.

NASJJSJSBSJJSJSB IM SO SORRY THE GEORGE GIRLIE IN ME WANTS SO GO HELL YEAH LETS MAKE THAT RAT FREDDIE RUE THE DAY HE WAS BORN 😫😈😈😈 HES JUST SO DARLING I LUV HIM HES SO SILLY AND STUPID FUCKKKK

“I was not getting sloshed, I was doing business.” He corrected, defensive over the fact. “S’pose you were hoping I’d take a little longer, yeah? Give you some more time to cozy up with my brother?”

👏THAT👏PART👏 RIP HIM TO SHREDS GEORGE. ANNIHILATE THAT GINGER GIT

“Yeah, right. What else did he fill in for, sweetheart? Anything you think I should know?”

“Yeah, but I bet you would’ve let him, right?”

EXCUSE ME

He grabbed your hand, spinning you back around to face him. He pulled you into him, his athletic build never leaving him even after he stopped playing quidditch.

.... WHAT ABOUT IT

“Bitching and moaning cause I couldn’t be home to take you to dinner… if you were so upset, why didn’t you come to me, princess? Tell me what was wrong?”

❓❓❓❓ DI BALE SANA NANDITO KA???? HELLO

(tr: NEVERMIND IF YOU WERE ACTUALLY HERE. and the pick is let's go stupid/idiot)

You could smell fire whiskey on his breath, feeling his chest heaving with anger against your own. As angry as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal run through you. The slight sneer on his face, the fire in his eyes, and the protective hold he had on you was sending your head spinning with thoughts much less pertinent to the topic at hand.

I fear I may be quaking in my boots... It's not the only thing quaking.

“See, Princess? She’ll always tell me the truth.”

NO CUZZZZ

His grin faded, slowly sinking into a scowl as your disobedience remained clear.

I love icarusing myself WHAT ABOUT IT WEASLEY

HES GOT SUCH A DIRTY MOUTH ON HIMMMMMMM FUCKKKK OFFF

“Doesn’t matter, sweetheart. When I’m done with you, I’ll be the only person you can think of. Surely then you won’t be able to forget who you belong to.”

Raw. Next twin.

“My little whore needs more?”

“Asking a lot from someone you aren’t being very good for.”

Brat tame me then 🙄✋ I dare you also

Silently, he sunk to his knees between your legs, pulling you to the edge of the table by your hips. He didn’t spare a single glance at your face before his tongue connected with your core, the warm wetness of his tongue even more pleasurable than the rough pad of his thumb.

VIOLENTLY SHAKING IM ILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

“Oh, god.” You gasped, your legs resting over his shoulders in attempt to stop the constant trembling of the lips. “I’m yours, Fred, fuck!” You exclaimed, a sheen layer of sweat forming over your forehead as the knot in your belly began to tighten. “Only you can make me feel this good. Nobody else.” You whined, your fingers tightening on the locks of hair as you began to tug at the strands. You could feel him smiling against you, happy to finally hear you admit the truth.

UghhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHH SO GOOD NEXT TWIN LMAO HAHAHAHHH

Green-Eyed Monster | F.W.

For the first time ever, Fred Weasley finds himself jealous over the only person in the world he needn’t worry a bit about.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x f!reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, oral + fingering (f!receiving, (lots of) dirty talk, name calling, praise/degradation, dom/sub dynamic, some nipple play, touch of a breeding kink, possessiveness/jealousy, some toxic themes, established relationship, swearing, drinking, arguing, angst, fluff, sorry if miss any!

first hp fic in a very long time! what better to post than this mess (jealous, possessive, sexy mess). basically pwp—let me know what you think! (Barely edited at all lmao my apologies)

You sat quietly at George’s desk, eyes focused on a piece of parchment as you both tried to break down the recipe George had scribbled down. There was a hiccup, a hitch in the plan of brewing a batch of Euphoria Elixir for the joke shop, and it was pushing back your plans to place them on the shelves this week. After a few hours of quiet deliberation on his lonesome, George decided to seek your help in hopes of speeding up the process.

So, the two of you put your heads together and re-read the ingredient list a million times, wondering how the hell it turned out murky green instead of sunshine-y yellow. The cauldron sat smoldering across the room, a rain cloud above it as the bubbly mixture spilled over the sides. Upon first glance, you had stated the absolute obvious.

“Isn’t that supposed to be a rainbow?” You raised an eyebrow, looking at your brother-in-law as he collapsed in his chair.

“Yes, you git.” George rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. You shot him a sharp look, warning him to be nice if he wanted your help. You knew George didn’t mean any of the insults—he was simply frustrated and maybe even a little embarrassed that he could not figure it out by himself. “Sorry, Y/N.” He conceded, realizing he came on a bit too strong.

“S’alright.” You assured him, stepping towards the desk where he sat. “Where’s the ingredient list? We’ll start there.” You offered, knowing you would help no matter how poor of a mood he was in. You loved George almost as much as you loved Fred, if you had to compare. Even if it was in a different way, you had a hard time refusing him when he used the same charm tactics as his twin brother.

After spending so many years in a relationship with Fred, it would be obscure for you not to have a bond with the closest person to him. Over the years, he’d surpassed a friend and had grown into your own brother. You were certain that no matter where life took you and Fred, George would always hold a special place in your heart. When the two opened their shop in Diagon Alley, you volunteered most of your free time to help them in any way you could, and whether it was tweaking new products or doing some of the dirty work, you never really minded.

That evening in specific, Fred was off on some ‘official business’, which really just meant meeting with a potential product buyer at The Leaky Cauldron. Last month, George took the burden of doing so, and they decided it was only fair for him to do it this time. Unfortunately for you, as much as you loved supporting them, it did interfere with your evening plans with him. So, sulking and trying your best to swallow it down, you distracted yourself with stocking shelves downstairs to prepare for another busy day ahead.

You were actually near grateful when George emerged from the office, calling out to you in desperation. It gave you a break from the monotonous back and forth, and someone to talk to. If it could not be Fred, you decided George was the next best.

“So, what’d’ya think it could be?” George asked, peeking over the cauldron that was still spitting back at him. He dodged out of the way, trying his best not to get any of the splashback on his new jumper.

“Well, from what you’ve told me, seems like you put all the right stuff in.” You deducted, pursing your lips slightly as you read over the list for what seemed like the millionth time. “Sad as it sounds, I doubt we can save it now, even if we figure out what happened.” You said, recalling your potions knowledge that Snape had relayed over the years.

“Right, but I’d like to know what’s wrong before I try again.” He explained, taking a moment to look over your sad expression. His eyebrows furrowed, his head cocking to the side as he tried to figure out where it was coming from. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Your eyes flickered upwards to meet his, your cheeks tinged red from the heat of the room. Your lips dipped into a frown as you shrugged your shoulders, brushing him off so you did not need to explain yourself. “I know you better than that. Come on, now.” He urged, placing his palms flat against the desk as he leaned towards you, a challenging look in his eye.

You narrowed your brows, keeping a stony expression as you met his gaze. “What’s it to you, Weasley?” You shot back, unsure of where your defensive nature was coming from. Perhaps you weren’t willing to discuss your relationship problems with your boyfriend’s twin brother, or maybe it was because you felt foolish for being upset at all.

“Reckon we’re past that, hmm? Your problems are our problems, and all.” He responded, also unsure of why you were being so reserved with your thoughts. Usually, you were an open book, especially with the two of them.

“My problems aren’t your problems, Georgie.” You shook your head, shutting down the ridiculous notion. “Let’s get back to the real problem, yeah?”

“No, I don’t think so.” George disagreed, his concern now over something completely different. “Is it about Fred?” At that, the tips of your ears began to burn and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Ah, I see.” A devious smile crossed his lips.

“It’s not a big deal.” You covered your tracks, tapping the ink-less quill against the worn parchment.

“I have a hard time believing you, considering you just lied to me.”

“Lied is a strong word,” you rolled your eyes, quickly realizing that there would be no escaping the conversation. “I didn’t lie about anything.”

“What’s he done?”

“Nothing!” You exclaimed, a dry laugh leaving your lips. “It’s just… I’m just being dramatic.” And it’s true, you were being dramatic. Well, maybe not fully, but that’s what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I just miss him, I suppose. I know you both have been busy, but I think maybe I underestimated how busy you would actually be.” You continued, knowing it was wrong to confide in his twin brother about your relationship issues. Still, it felt good to get it off your chest, to voice the concern and have someone shoot you down, just so you knew you were being irrational. “This is the third night in a row we’ve canceled our plans. I’ll get over it. It’s no big deal.”

“No—“ you let out a defeated sigh, slumping down in your seat. “I know that, but I was hoping you would tell me I’ve gone mad, instead.”

“Blimey, Y/N, you’re allowed to be upset. We're busy, yeah, but you’re still his girlfriend.” George said, jumping slightly when the rain cloud above the cauldron let out a crack of thunder. “If you’d rather, we can forget the elixir and grab dinner instead. I’m not Fred, but I’m pretty damn close.” He gave you a cheeky smile, earning an honest laugh from you.

“S’alright, Georgie. Thank you, though.” You appreciated his kindness, but you were sure it would only make your predicament even worse, considering Fred’s recently acquired short-fuse when it came to you and George spending so much time together. It was odd for him to be so protective, so jealous of the one person in the world he needn’t worry about, but it seemed as though the new trait was permanent. Perhaps it came from the fact he was also missing you due to your busy schedules, and how it sometimes seemed you and George were most often left at the shop alone.

“You know, I have noticed that lately.” George continued, leaning against the desk as he reminisced over the last few weeks. “Always seems to be us stuck here together.”

“Mhm.” You mumbled, slowly realizing that you weren’t as insane as you previously thought if he was noticing all of the same things. “Let’s just figure this out so I can get home.”

So you did. A grueling hour spent recounting George’s every step in brewing the elixir left the two of you puzzled and even more frustrated. By that point in the night, you were hunched over the long list of his steps you had jotted down so you could (hopefully) discover what he missed.

“I dunno, Georgie.” You sighed. “Seems like you did everything—“ you cut yourself off, leaning closer to the page on the desk as you caught something you hadn’t seen before.

“What?” He asked, his head snapping towards you. “What is it?”

“You said when you let it simmer, it was turquoise.” You said, looking up at him.

“Yeah, so?” He replied, confused why it was such a big deal.

“It’s meant to be blue.” You explained, a grin on your face as you relayed the information to him.

“Turquoise… blue… same thing, innit?” He asked, standing and walking over to you.

“Maybe to you.” You giggled, pointing to the piece of paper where he missed the step. “After you add the shrivelfig, you have to stir it until it changes color.” He walked up behind you, placing one hand on your arm as he leaned over your opposite shoulder. He smelled of butterbeer, likely due to the one he’d been nursing the entire time you sat together. You immediately noticed the warmth of his body, how similar it felt to how Fred touched you, but how drastically different it was all the same.

“Blimey, you’re right!” He exclaimed, his voice still soft so he was not yelling in your ear. “What would I do without you?” He gave your arm a gentle squeeze, leaning closer and pressing the side of his face to yours in a makeshift hug. His hand dropped to your back, lingering there as the conversation continued.

“It’s nothing, really.” You smiled, closing your eyes to enjoy the warmth for a moment. “So now you know. You can do it again, but make sure to stir it until it’s blue. By tomorrow, we’ll have it bottled and on the shelves just like we planned.”

“Our number one girl, saving the day yet again.” He sighed in relief. “I better get to it—“

Before his thought could finish, the door to the office swung open, cutting him short. Your eyes turned upwards, landing on a slightly drunken version of the boyfriend who’d abandoned your evening plans. The gloss of his eyes and the goofy smile on his lips led you to believe so, and the redness on the apples of his cheeks only solidified it. Only his cheeky grin didn’t last too long when he processed the scene in front of him, how close the two of you were, how heavy George’s hand seemed on your back and how rosy your own cheeks were.

Quickly, his jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing as he tried to decipher the whole situation. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, and his arms raised to cross over his chest. Immediately, you knew what you’d be in for; a long, tiresome argument that changed absolutely nothing. Instead of fighting the silent accusations, defending yourself for no real reason at all, you watched him with the same intensity while you awaited a snide comment.

“So what’s all this, then?” Fred asked, his face clearly conveying all of his emotions.

“Helping Georgie make the elixir while you were off getting sloshed at The Leaky Cauldron.” You muttered, noticing George straighten himself up in hopes of avoiding any further damage.

“Blimey, Fred. If you took any longer, I’d imagine you’d have to move in with the lad.” George took your side on the matter. “At least she wouldn’t have to worry about you missing dinner again.” At that, Fred’s eyes cut to you, immediately understanding where the underlying tension was coming from.

“Is that right?” Fred’s voice was no louder than a whisper, all of the pieces clicking together in an instant. “I don’t suppose the two of you had dinner? Let him fill in for me while I was gone?”

“No, we did not.” You snipped, standing as you gathered the ingredients for George’s second attempt at the brew.

“Yeah, right. What else did he fill in for, sweetheart? Anything you think I should know?” At that, your eyes widened and your face turned red. Your entire body felt like it was engulfed in flames, appalled that he would even think such a thing.

“Piss off, Fred.” You muttered, stepping out from behind the desk as tears stung your eyes. George shot you a sympathetic look as you pushed past his brother and out into the stairwell. You trodded down to the main level, swiping fallen tears away from your cheeks as you rushed out the front entrance of the building.

The cool air of the night was nice, especially after spending so long cramped up in the tiny office space, but it was not as freeing as you might have hoped once you heard footsteps following behind you. Without acknowledging him, you pulled your keys from your pocket, hoping that maybe he forgot his own set and you wouldn’t have to deal with his drunken arguments tonight if you got inside before him.

Of course, you knew that was childish and cruel, because despite being upset with him, loving him was the only thing you knew how to do. You unlocked the front door, holding it open with your boot-clad foot as he stumbled his way behind you. As soon as he passed through the doorway, you continued on your journey to ignore him and tossed your keys on the counter.

“Hey,” Fred reached out, his warm hand landing on your arm, stopping you from running any further from him.

“What?” You snapped, immediately regretting the harshness of your tone. He recoiled at the sound, shocked that you spoke to him in such a way. Usually the two of you saw eye to eye on everything, and in your long standing relationship arguing had never been your thing. Until you left school, you were certain the two of you had never been angry at each other, ever.

“What the bloody hell was that about? I leave for a few hours, and the two of you get on like that? Does that happen every time I step out?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again, wondering why this became such a problem in the few short months you’d been graduated.

“Merlin, Fred. You’re acting like you caught us in a broom closet.” You tried again to make your way to the bedroom, unwilling to argue a point he knew was blasphemous anyhow. “We were working, not fucking.”

“Yeah, but I bet you would’ve let him, right?” He grabbed your hand, spinning you back around to face him. He pulled you into him, his athletic build never leaving him even after he stopped playing quidditch. “Bitching and moaning cause I couldn’t be home to take you to dinner… if you were so upset, why didn’t you come to me, princess? Tell me what was wrong?” You could smell fire whiskey on his breath, feeling his chest heaving with anger against your own. As angry as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal run through you. The slight sneer on his face, the fire in his eyes, and the protective hold he had on you was sending your head spinning with thoughts much less pertinent to the topic at hand.

“Maybe I would have if you spared me the time of day.” You argued, finding yourself short of breath as you realized just how much he towered over you. “But, as it seems, you’ve been too damn busy to spare me a second glance.”

“Christ, when did you get so needy?” His rebuttal came easy, like he’d been waiting to have this fight for weeks. “Weren’t satisfied at home, so you thought my brother could do it for you?”

“Are you daft?” You hissed, feeling his fingers tighten on your hips. You hated that the feeling made you forget about your troubles, urging you to push the argument to the side and settle it in a better, more pleasurable way. “If that’s what I wanted, you think I’d be up here arguing with you?”

“That depends, sweetheart. Were you planning on getting caught?” He raised an eyebrow, the thud of his heart against his chest letting you know just how worked up he was. There was no way he truly believed you would do that to him, especially after all you had been through together. You wondered if maybe the lack of time spent with each other was getting to him, souring his thoughts because he missed you just as much as you missed him. “We may be identical, Princess, but he could never give you what I can.”

You hated to admit it, but for some strange reason, jealousy looked really good on him.

“What, a headache and a poor mood?” You decided to play his game if he wasn’t willing to listen to reason. If he wanted to fight, you could do it too. “I’m sure he could manage. In fact, he could probably do a hell of a lot more.” That seemed to strike a nerve in him, pushing him over the edge in an instant and changing the entire mood hanging heavy in the room. He no longer wanted to talk, but rather prove a point.

He took a step backwards, never easing his hold as he pushed you towards the kitchen table. He didn’t stop until your ass hit the edge, a mischievous look in his eye replacing the earlier annoyance. He had you locked in place, no intent to back down as he stared down at you over the bridge of his nose. Then, a small smirk turned the corner of his lips, leading you to believe he was also thinking of a much more simple way to solve your problems.

“Maybe you just need a reminder of who you belong to, yeah?” He asked, his voice quieter than it was before. You felt your mouth run dry, your eyes never leaving his as a dull ache between your legs began to pester you.

That would make you feel better, but he had pissed you off enough that you wanted to refuse him the satisfaction.

“Maybe we should get Georgie up here. According to you, he’d be the one to set me straight.” There was a slight venom in your tone letting him know you wouldn’t be letting anything go so easily. A low chuckle shook his shoulders, his eyes gleaming with a sinister look you weren’t sure you’d ever seen from him before that night. He shook his head ever so slightly, playing into you as he reached one arm behind you.

Your heart raced as you awaited a response, wondering if maybe you pushed him too far and crossed a boundary you could not double back on. You didn’t have to wonder long, because without a second thought, he cleared all of the items littering the table with one swift move of his arm. Papers scattered everywhere, floating through the air and landing all over the floor. Broken products and half finished merchandise for the shop tumbled off the edge, falling less than gracefully onto the tile below. Without ever breaking eye contact, he raised an eyebrow, daring you to say it again.

“You think he can fuck you better than I can?” He asked, giving you the opportunity to change your mind.

“Right now? Yeah.” You spat, wondering if he’d ever drop the act and get on with his day. “Seems like all you want to do is get on my nerves.”

“Yeah?” He challenged, his face so close to yours you could feel his breath on your skin. The tip of his nose grazed your own, his normally warm and comforting irises engulfed by his lust-blown pupils. Or perhaps it was anger that gave him the new look—you weren’t quite sure. “You’d rather go home with him at night? Wake up next to him every morning? Is that really what you want, princess?” He taunted, knowing very well that your heart was his, even if he found himself caught up in a few moments of doubt.

Still neglecting to give him any gratification, you nodded your head despite the sickening feeling that washed over you at the thought. As if he called your bluff before you ever said it aloud, he laughed at the certainty in your action, which only seemed to anger you further.

“If that’s the case, seems like I’ve got my work cut out for me tonight.” He responded, brushing the comment off as if it were nothing. If there was one thing Fred couldn’t ever turn down, it was a challenge, and since coming upstairs with you, it was only further proven to him that’s all this was. “Maybe I’ve gotten too comfortable, sweetheart. After so long, you think you’d know that you’re mine, huh?” Before he continued his tyrant, he used his hands on your hips to lift you onto the table with ease. The ache between your legs had grown stronger, more intense and impossible to ignore. You could feel the wetness soaking through your panties, and the thought of his strong arms lifting you so carelessly only made you spiral further. “Maybe I expect too much of you.” He theorized, recognizing the gleam in your eyes because he’d seen it a thousand times before.

He let his hands trail under the hem of your jumper, settling on the button of your jeans as he undid it with ease. You never let your eyes trail from his face, realizing that no matter how upset you were, it could never take away from how much you loved him. He was beautiful, his fiery red hair and the freckles splattered across his cheeks and nose creating a perfect picture. The softness of his complexion and the gentleness hidden deep in his expression assured you that whatever the two of you were doing was nothing more than an act. He knew you were his just as well as you did, but he knew the only way to settle the (admittedly, misguided) fear was to hear you say it aloud.

You helped him pull the fabric from your legs, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lifted your hips from the table. He discarded the clothing on the floor, paying no mind to it as he returned his hands to your bare legs. His eyes searched your face, carefully looking for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he was met with a pleading expression that only seemed to fuel his too large ego even further.

“No matter,” he disregarded his earlier rant, his eyes growing heavy as his hand fell between your legs. His fingertips grazed the thin fabric separating him from your core, a shiver running down his spine as he noticed the arousal that had soaked straight through. “I don’t mind having to show you. Least I’ll get to have my fun too, yeah?” He applied slight pressure to your aching clit, watching to see your reaction. Your eyebrows knitted together, your lips parting slightly as your hips moved forward into his hand, your body betraying your mind and begging him for something more.

At that, a grin encased his face, happy to see that he hadn’t lost his touch, even if your lives were vastly different and ever-changing by the day. He knew exactly how to make you feel good, and he took pride in it.

“See, Princess? She’ll always tell me the truth.” He taunted, his voice quiet as his eyes trailed down to his hand. You swallowed hard, knowing he had you in a stalemate. “Tell me again, who do you think knows how to make you feel good? Who does it best?” He was on a power trip, unwilling to slow down until he heard you admit it. Still, you stood your ground, pressing your lips tightly together so not a single sound could pass through. His grin faded, slowly sinking into a scowl as your disobedience remained clear.

He removed his finger from you, tracing the hem of your panties as he hooked his finger through the side of the fabric resting on your hip. He awaited an answer, giving you the opportunity to change your mind. When you kept your stoicism, he gave one, hard tug on the lacy fabric until it snapped in two. He used his other hand to do it to the opposite side, giving himself easy access to you without hearing a complaint on your end.

“So you don’t care who’s between your legs?” He continued, unrelenting as you stared him down. “Doesn’t matter who, as long as there’s a cock in you? As long as someone’s taking care of your pretty pussy?” Your cheeks flushed, your chest burning as the filthy words washed over you. “Doesn’t matter, sweetheart. When I’m done with you, I’ll be the only person you can think of. Surely then you won’t be able to forget who you belong to.”

His hand connected with your bare cunt, his fingers trailing through your arousal and settling over your clit as he began to trace slow circles into the sensitive area. Your legs trembled at the contact, finally feeling some relief from the nagging sensation that had been taking over.

“Fuck. Fred.” You whispered, giving yourself away immediately. He let out a low hum, pleased with the sound and knowing he was the reason for it. He had you where he wanted you, and now he just had to keep up the pace. You could feel his hardening length against your leg, distracting you completely from the pent up anger and frustration.

“That’s it.” He encouraged, his middle finger sinking inside of you as he let his thumb take over on your clit. “That’s my girl.” He made sure to accentuate the claim, never once letting you forget it. “All you needed was a little help remembering.” Slowly, he pumped his finger into you, keeping time with his thumb as he began to work you towards a climax. “You want to say it for me? Tell me what I already know?” Instead of responding, you let out a whine, your hips bucking forward into his hand. Although it wasn’t what he was looking for, it was just enough for him to keep going.

He curled his fingers as he pumped them into you, begging for a reaction as your hand wrapped around his bicep for support. You felt the tense of his muscles as he worked at you, only pushing you closer to insanity. You were his, undoubtedly and wholeheartedly, and you would be crazy to ever want anyone else.

“Stubborn little thing tonight.” He remarked, his eyes focused on the point in which his hand met with you, never breaking his stare as he watched his fingers disappear into you. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Need more, Freddie.” You replied, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the pleasure pulsing under your skin. It had been a long time since you felt him this way, and your impatience was quite clear.

“My little whore needs more?” He teased, applying a little more pressure with his thumb. A gasp fell from your lips, sending your upper half leaning forward until your forehead rested against his. “Asking a lot from someone you aren’t being very good for.” He chastised you for your behavior despite being the one that caused the problem in the first place.

“M’sorry, my love. S-so sorry.” You rushed out, his fingers brushing against the sweet spot inside you only he knew how to find.

“That’s not what I want to hear sweetheart, and you know it.” His tone was firm, unrelenting as he continued his torment. You let out a groan of frustration, wishing he’d quicken the pace and give you what you wanted, even though you refused to give in to him.

He leaned forward, closing the gap between your mouths as he grew tired of waiting for the words he wanted to hear. He tasted like the whiskey that had been fuelling his poor mood, sweet and bitter all at once as his tongue grazed your bottom lip. You hated how easy it was for him to turn you into a mess, hated how easy it was for him to make you forget you were angry at all. You pulled him closer to you, holding his arm tightly so he would not pull away. You were stubborn, but despite that, you were showing him everything he wanted to see through your actions alone.

You broke from the kiss as a particularly intense wave of euphoria pulled your stomach. Your forehead continued to rest on his, holding you upright as he continued to give you just enough to keep you satisfied.

“Say it, princess.” His voice was low, raspy and laced with desire as he watched you turn into a mess below him. “Tell me you’re all mine. Tell me I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.” Instead, you connected your mouths again, letting a desperate moan out at the same time. He drank in the sound, his cock throbbing as his hips jutted forward into nothing. He was almost more desperate than you were, which only allowed for you to take him less seriously.

“G-gonna have to try harder than that.” You found a peculiar pleasure in leaving him on edge, giving him a taste of his own medicine as he continued to torture both of you at once. “Show me why I should say it, Freddie. Seems like you’re all t-talk.” You stuttered, tripping over your words as you tried to keep your composure.

He withdrew his hand from you, making you cry out in frustration from the loss of pleasure. Your eyes met his, desperation written all over your face as you protested his actions. Silently, he sunk to his knees between your legs, pulling you to the edge of the table by your hips. He didn’t spare a single glance at your face before his tongue connected with your core, the warm wetness of his tongue even more pleasurable than the rough pad of his thumb.

You laid back on the table, your hands sinking downwards and tangling in the soft locks of hair. Although you were denying him of the statement he wanted to hear, you could not deny that your last argument was wholly untrue. Fred was determined to prove a point, and he was doing it well.

You weren’t far off from an orgasm, his tongue making quick work at pushing you to the edge. The sounds falling from your lips were telling of your current state, and as delirium began to set in, your defenses began to break down.

He suctioned his lips around your clit, adding his fingers to the mix and returning to his earlier pace to torture you further. Every nerve in your body was ablaze with desire, need seeping from every pore as you realized just how badly you needed the release. Sick of the game, you finally broke in fear he would leave you hanging yet again.

Pleased with your confessions, he curled his fingers against your g-spot one last time, generously giving you the very thing you’d been pleading for. In a mess, your entire body tensed as the pleasure took hold. The orgasm washed over you, leaving your heart racing against your chest and your head swirling with filthy thoughts for the boy between your legs. A hum of approval let you know he was more than happy with your performance, and he kept his pace until he felt you relax against the table below you.

Once he knew he’d gotten the most out of you, he rose to his feet, towering over you as you laid below him. In the dim moonlight, you could see your orgasm glistening on his chin, only furthering his cockiness as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip so he did not waste a drop of it.

“Always taste so sweet, princess.” He whispered, using one hand to free himself from his pants and his boxers. “And it’s all for me.” He continued, slipping his shirt from his head. He used it to wipe his face clean before tossing it on the floor to join the growing pile of clothes. With shaky hands, you lifted your upper half from the table and pulled your own jumper over your head. “Isn’t that right?” He stepped toward, settling between your legs as his hands ghosted over your bare thighs.

You let out a whimper, his grip landing on your already sore hips as his eyes raked over your entire frame. Your gaze flickered to his cock, hard and aching for relief as he continued to tease you. His fingers tickled your stomach as he trailed his touch upwards, his palm landing flat against your breast as he gave it a gentle squeeze. He let the pad of his thumb brush over your hardened nipple, sending another wave of pleasure through you.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” He wasn’t playing anymore; he wanted to hear the words, and he was done with your obstinacy. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger,

“Yes,” you huffed, already forgetting the pleasure from your first climax as a whole new wave of need began to take over. “I’m yours, Fred. All yours.” You reiterated your earlier statement, now willing to do whatever he wanted of you to prove the point.

“Tell me how bad you want it.” He shot you a twisted little smile, almost as if he was getting off just from the thought of you begging for him.

“I need it, baby. Need to feel you, please.” You whined, reaching for his arms and pulling him closer. “Want you so bad, Fred. Been waiting all night for it.” You felt the tip of his cock connect with your cunt, his expression faltering as soon as he felt the wetness.

“God, you make it so hard to be upset with you.” He hissed the words through his teeth, using his hand to guide himself through your folds as he sucked in a sharp breath. He settled himself just over your already sensitive clit, pushing his hips forward ever so slightly to apply pressure to the spot. “Sound so pretty when you’re begging to be fucked.”

Slowly, he let his tip run back through your arousal, settling the head just at your entrance. He pushed himself forward, but just barely. You whimpered as you braced yourself for the feeling, only to be let down when he stopped himself from going any further.

“Fred,” you warned, catching his eye so he could see your desperate face. You hoped that if he did, he would stop being such a tease. “Please fuck me.”

“What was that?” He smirked, turning his head slightly so his ear was closer to you. ��Didn’t quite catch it.”

“Fred, stop—“ you cut yourself off, letting out a huff of annoyance. You knew chastising him for his actions would only make him less likely to give in, even if it was incredibly hard to hold it back. “I need you to fuck me.” You repeated, clearer and louder in hopes of swaying his decision. “Can’t wait any longer, baby. Please.”

At that, he pushed forward the rest of the way, sending your entire body raising with goosebumps. The stretch as he filled you was exactly what you craved, and as he reached the hilt, his tip brushed against your g-spot so delicately that it almost made you come undone right then and there. Your eyelids grew heavy with satisfaction, focusing on how full you felt with him inside of you, knowing that he for certain would always be the one for you.

“That good enough for you, Princess? This is what you wanted?” He asked, letting himself rest inside you for a moment. He felt your walls flutter around him, pulling him even further and making it harder for him to resist you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, giving him a tired nod of agreement. You could feel him throbbing inside of, desperate for a release just like you had been moments before, but he was still trying to prove his point.

“Nobody else gets to have you like this, sweetheart. You’re mine.” He whispered, now sober from the alcohol but intoxicated by an even stronger, deadlier force; you. “He couldn’t fuck you like this, and you know it.” As he spoke, he withdrew his hips and slammed them forward into you again. The action stole the breath from your lungs, twisting your stomach with pleasure as your nails scratched over his skin.

He began at a pace, slower than normal but the force behind his movements making your head spin. You moaned quietly, lost within the feeling of being so close to him. He never failed to take your breath away, never failed to amaze you with his every move. You were so in love with him it sometimes felt like there was no room within your heart for anyone or anything else.

“Tell me, Y/N.” He ordered, his stare never wavering as he fucked into you. As much as he wanted to succumb to the sensation of you wrapped around him, he found it hard to push the thoughts of your earlier arguments out of his head. “You think he’d fuck you like this? You think he could make you feel this good?”

“No, Freddie.” You gasped, feeling the strength of his thrusts increase, sending the legs of the table wobbling. His fingers tightened on your hips, likely leaving behind angry red marks that would fade into reminders of him for days to come.

“That’s it, Princess.” He panted, his chest heaving as he tried to resist the pull of pleasure. “Don’t you think, not even for a second, that anyone can give you half of what I can.” You both knew this to be fact; nobody in the entire world could ever compare to him. “And why do you think that is?”

“‘C-cause I’m yours,” you managed to stutter out the response, watching him as the statement washed over. He brought his hand to your thigh, your legs wrapped tightly around you as he pulled you back on him with every thrust. His head fell back on his shoulders, the dim light of the room casting a beautiful hue over his already breathtaking features.

“That’s right,” he grunted, slamming his hips forward again. There was a thin layer of sweat sheen on his chest, the toned muscles of his abdomen flexing every time he moved. The exposed columns of his neck made your mouth water, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed back his own groans of pleasure. “Was that why you were mouthing off? You just needed someone to take care of you? Just needed me to fuck you?”

“God, yes.” You moaned, feeling the pressure in your belly begin to reach a peak.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? All over my cock?” He smiled, looking down at you so he could appreciate the view. “Come on now, making a fucking mess of it.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, his words hitting you hard and causing the tightening knot in your belly to tense even further.

“That’s my pretty girl. Just like that.” He continued to encourage you, studying your expression as pleasure began to twist it.

It didn’t take much more for you to descend into another orgasm, your entire body quivering as you cried out for him, singing his name like a hymn and he was the god in which you prayed to. Your throat was raw, raspy from the constant string of moans passing your lips. You were tired, almost too fucked out to continue on, but he was having none of it. He didn’t slow his pace as you came down from the high, instead speeding up and ensuring that he pulled your entire body down on him as he fucked into you.

“Freddie, please.” You breathed, feeling the threat of overstimulation begin to creep in. He would have had sympathy had he known you couldn’t take it, but he was confident in your ability to keep up with him.

“What’s wrong, Princess? Wanted it so bad and now you can’t handle it?” He asked, his eyes glazed over with lust as he felt himself approaching his own orgasm. You frowned at his words, now on a quest to prove your own point as you tried to ignore the stinging beginning to set in.

“I can t-take it.” You huffed, a shiver running down your spine as he reached upwards and palmed your breast. He gave the supple flesh a gentle squeeze, his eyes closing in bliss as he let himself slip out of the persona he had created.

“Being so good for me—just a bit longer now.” He whispered, his voice far away as his eyes settled over your face once more. “Bloody hell, Y/N.” he groaned, his forehead creasing as his eyebrows furrowed together. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He slipped his hand between your legs, his thumb landing atop your clit. He traced slow circles, knowing you were a bit further behind him and unwilling to climax without giving you at least one more. He could see how tired you were, but it did not deter him from his commitment to pleasing you.

“I love you, Fred.” You whispered, softened entirely by the sweet look in his eyes. All of his previous anger fled, leaving him just as the boy you’d fallen so hopelessly for.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He hummed, his hips stuttering and his stature faltering. “Give me one more, yeah? I know you can do it.” And he was right, your entire body was ablaze with another orgasm much more powerful than the last two.

“Together?” You gasped, reaching up and settling your palm on his cheek.

“Yeah? You want to cum with me?” He encouraged your train of thought. “Want me to fill that pretty cunt? Really show you who you belong to?”

“Fuck yes, please.” You cried, your fingertips tangling in the locks of hair hanging over his ears. Your walls clenched around him, drawing him in and effortlessly finishing what you had started.

You felt his hips stall, a low growl leaving his lips as he pulled you down on him one last time. He managed to whisper your name as he spilled his release into you, the feeling of him filling you completely sending you spiraling on your own accord. You let out a defeated sigh, the tail end of it turning into a whine as your body went rigid. Your nails scratched at the skin of his arm, your hand on him the only thing keeping you tied to earth instead of floating up and through the clouds.

The both of you rode the high together, euphoria infiltrating every nerve in both of your bodies as he leaned down towards you. Ever so gently, he laid his head on your chest, which was still heaving as you tried to catch up from the lack of oxygen. He placed a plethora of small kisses against the warm skin, his eyes fluttering closed as he appreciated the comfort that came with your company.

Silence hung heavy between you for a few moments, neither of you sure where to go from there. You were still strung out on bliss, barely remembering what got the two of you in the position until he spoke again.

“M’sorry, sweetheart.” His voice barely broke through the room, so timid and shy that you almost missed it completely. “I know you’d never do that. Just got in my head, I s’pose.”

“I… I get it.” You sighed, twisting a lock of his hair. “If I walked in on that, after us being so.. you know. I’d likely feel it too.” You confessed. “I was upset that we had to cancel dinner. I am upset, but not at you.” You tried your best to explain yourself despite exhaustion eating away at your mind. “I’m just upset because I miss you. You’re so busy now, and I’m happy for you, really, but I miss you too.”

“You think I was bloody happy about it?” Fred chuckled, the tip of his fingers tracing shapes into your skin. “I’d much rather be here, with you.” At that, you relaxed completely, understanding that you had gotten too far into your own head. “It’s my favorite place to be. Always has been.”

“Mine too, Fred.” You hummed, smiling softly at the thought.

“I reckon I was a bit jealous, ‘specially at the thought of you and George spending so much time with each other. Would rather it be me, you know, sitting at the shop and laughing with you all night… taking you out for dinner… loving you.” Another gentle kiss was placed to your chest, just before he looked up to meet your eyes. The soft, warm, familiar sight made you feel at ease. He was back to being your Fred, the one you missed all along.

“Darling, you have nothing to be jealous about.” You promised, smiling as he placed a quick peck on your lips. “Though, if it means we get to have brilliant sex like that, by all means do what you have to do.” You explained. “Bloody brilliant, at that.” Without any further words, the two of you descended into a fit of laughter and the clouds that previously hung above your head seemingly cleared in an instant, easily proving to him there was really never a need to worry at all.

#harry potter fic #fred Weasley fic #fred weasley smut

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thewertsearch · 2 days ago

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Hold the phone. 11:10... you almost forgot! One minute until the empire's REBRANDING launch. You wonder if it will live up to the hype? Guess you'll find out.

You ride out another 60 seconds and... huh? Something happened to your BAKING CHEST. Did the logo just change?

No more hiding in plain sight, I take it.

Her Imperious Condescension, Empress-in-exile of the Alternian Empire and scourge of a thousand worlds, has openly declared her darkest, most reprehensible title yet.

Chief Executive Officer of the Betty Crocker Corporation.

It's just a fork instead of a spoon. Not the most awe inspiring logo you've ever seen, but who are you to judge? Aside from the future owner of the company.

...can someone take Jane aside for a second, and explain what usually happens to Her Condescension’s heiresses?

You try the broken switch again. Hey look, it does something now, toggling your trusty bowlbuster between a STIRRING SOLUTION and a POKING SOLUTION. Neat!

Well, Jane. Do you want to create something delicious, or start poking holes in people?

Because right now, you could go either way.

Nope, still nothing. You surely would have heard the truck pull up. You guess the empire wasn't able to coordinate the mail with its rebranding. Maybe the U.S. Postal Service is the one thing it doesn't have its gnarled claws in yet? (Another mental note: sink gnarled claws into post office when you take over.)

Jane, for god's sake, you do not want to go any further down this road. A villain arc would be bad enough, but a capitalist arc would be significantly worse. At least villains are cool.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 6 #s178 #4138 #jane you don't want to do this. you will become swagless.#oh god oh fuck she's got bettypods on she can't hear me

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k1mbe3rly · 3 days ago

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Haii I'm back with another request I'm sorry If I'm getting annoyingg 😔 anyway maybe Jun-hee (222) sucking f!Reader's tits to releave her stress and fear?? you could also do f!reader fingering her too to help her ? Maybe also add Myung-gi walking on them by accident for extra drama??

i literally don’t mind, in fact keep requesting🙄i ABSOLUTELY love doing people’s request idc😩

Unexpected

warnings: Smut, WLW, titty sucking, fingering, dom! jun hee, public, caught, talkative reader, (she’s not pregnant here btw)

It was the mingle game, you were stressed as hell, that last round had you going crazy thinking you weren’t gonna be able to find someone and get a room on time, you were looking around for a partner but didn’t get one since you were lowkey frozen, luckily Jun hee managed to find you and drag you into one

“Holy shit- that was so fucking awesome! how did you get the speed for that, i mean i really thought i was gonna die!” you said looking at Jun hee who was just staring at you, you stared back for a moment, “..I mean thank you i guess like whatever” you said catching your breath still a bit stressed out and afraid, she chuckled and just shaked her head “You sure do talk a lot you know.” She said

You nervously chuckled, “Yea i tend to start blabbing in nervous moments like these, guess i’m scared or something” you said messing with your hair a bit, She smirked at you a bit “I can help with that you know” she said, you looked at her in confusion but before anything could happen you heard the game voice go on “Game over.”, the doors unlocked as i opened it and followed everyone back to the bed

You were walking next to Jun hee, “Ah god! that was so nerve wracking like i’m so serious.. that had me trembling in my boots you know!” you said to her, she just nodded and listened “I mean i seriously thought i was gonna die but you were like boom and i was like woah! oo that gave me the chills right!” you spoke again, she nodded her head again as you went to your bed, she followed you simply as she just continued listening to you.

“You ever wonder what goes thru those red guards mind when they shoot people? i mean they gotta be mentally ill to just kill people just like that like bang!” you said to her making little gun fingers, “Do you go quiet when your not scared? or stressed whatever you are right now” she said looking at you, “i mean.. i guess why?” you spoke up in confusion, “cause i want you to be quiet” she said without hesitation, you were lowkey offended “Make me.” you said, She raised an eyebrow at you and scooted closer, She quickly zipped down your jacket “Woah- what the hell are you doing-?” you said to her but not stopping her

“Every time you talk it makes me wanna do things.” She said lifting your shirt a bit, your breath hitched as you watched her, she lifted it up good enough to see your bra, she quickly took your boobs out of your bra like nothing, squished together, she than admired then for a moment than wrapped her tongue around your nipple, you let out a breathless moan, she continued flicking her tongue and eventually took whatever she could in her mouth, mouth popping as she sucked on one boob and she traveled her hand to your other and rubbed her finger over your nipple.

“I- i thought you were straight? don’t you have a boyfriend?” you manged to say out, she stopped for a moment “Ex boyfriend.” she said before going to the other boob and sucking on that one, the cold breeze hitting the wetness of the one she stopped sucking on

“What- so your like ah! your like a lesbian now?” you spoke again, your hands on the mattress leaning back a bit, she stopped again in a bit of annoyance that you kept talking “I don’t know, just kinda wanted to try this i guess” after she spoke she immediately went back to your boobs groping and sucking on them.

“Wait so like-” you spoke again.

She quickly shoved her hand into your pants and down your panties, you gasped out at the sudden movement, “You don’t wanna shut up? than i’ll make you shut up. let’s see if you can still talk with you moaning” she said shoving 2 fingers inside your pussy, you quickly moaned out as she sucked on your boobs while fingering you, it was starting to overstimulate you as you threw your head back moaning softly but not too loud since people are too busy in the bathrooms or soemthing, besides your not even alone.

She fingered you even faster as she stopped sucking on your tit and focused on her fingers getting clenched by your pussy, you moaned out again gasping as you felt a knot in your tummy, “w-wai- i think i’m gonna cum~!” you managed to let out as she went a bit faster, you gasped loudly as you came around her fingers, she slowed her fingers as she pull them out of you and out of your pants, she looked at her fingers which were covered in cum

She chuckled a bit as you licked her fingers a bit, “Mm.. you actually taste good” she muttered, “Wanna taste yourself?” she said moving her fingers to your mouth, you shaked your head “uh.. no thank you..” you said a bit grossed out and making a small face. “What the actual fuck.” You heard another voice as you looked over to see player 333, Jun hee’s ex boyfriend.

#squid game #squid game smut #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid game s2 #myung gi #jun hee #kim jun hee #kim jun hee x reader #Kim Jun hee smut #player 222 #player 222 x reader #player 222 smut

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squishyo-o · 2 days ago

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.+*𝓜𝓸𝓶𝓶𝔂, 𝓱𝓾𝓱?*+. ❤️‍🔥

• IDOL!Seonghwa x FEM!Reader

• CW!: Needy/Desperate reader (in the beginning), Mentions of Nudes (?? Idk. Again, only the beginning) Seonghwa being thirty for that 🐱, body worshiping done by seonghwa and his tongue, Somnophilia, overstimulation, Seonghwa in a black tank top (yes this needs its own warning), pet names (angel, pretty, baby, good/pretty girl, probably more that I put in this thing), smut smut smut with a small little plot, I’m probably forgetting stuff

This was a recommendation by @bbdeongi (sorry if you don’t appreciate tags 😓 I didn’t know how to notify you I made this LMAO) after I made that one post a while ago! I hope you enjoy it <3 (This is basically the prompt: post prompt)

🫧

Why did he have to be gone for so long..

So.. agonizingly long…

You and your idol boyfriend, Seonghwa, have been together for roughly a year and a half now. He unfortunately had been super busy since the day of the comeback announcement and you guys hadn’t had been able to spend too much time together. Granted, you’d also get busy at times, but usually the two of you would find a day, or at least a period of time that you guys would be free to go out with each other or relax at home and cuddle together. Even then, sex wasn’t a question with the two of you. Most of the time he’s pretty soft but the days where the group stressed him out, you’ll be in for a lovely ride.

This time you were pent up at home

Since the day of the comeback announcement, he had been busy with recording the new songs for the album and practicing the choreography for their title track. These were the times you kind of hated the most about his job since the amount of time the two of you would spend time together was very little. You were sat in bed with your legs spread and embarrassingly fingering yourself. You knew Seonghwa was way better than you were. Because then he uses his mouth and just makes you fall apart again. Soft helpless sobs came from your lips as you were desperately trying to get yourself to cum somehow. You were hearing Seonghwa’s voice in your head which just turned you on more, but it wasn’t the same.

Every time you got there, you couldn’t seem to get yourself to finish. You eventually got fed up and was too tired to try again. But you decided to show Seonghwa what he was missing out on. You grabbed your phone on the beside table and snapped a picture of your unfinished pussy. Aching and left over. You sent it to him with a caption of 'please hurry home.. miss you.. ❤️' and put the phone down back on the nightstand to go clean yourself up. Even walking to the bathroom just to clean yourself up made you shake and wobble. Seonghwa, who got the message notification, was on a water break when he saw the text.

Fuck..

Seeing you like that, and he wasn’t able to do anything about it right now? Way turned him on. He kept staring at that wetness between your legs in the picture. He silently cursed to himself. Why couldn’t practice just be done already? He wanted so badly to just hurry home and fuck you with his mouth. It didn’t help that your moans were ringing in his ears. Such a beautiful symphony; it makes his cock twitch. He had to cross his legs and play it off as him getting comfortable. "God.. practice can’t go by any faster.." he mumbled under his breath taking a sip of his water, still staring at the picture you sent. He reacted to the picture with a heart and even replied:

"I’m so sorry my angel. Wait for me pretty, and I promise my tongue will give you paradise 💞"

Roughly about 3 hours later, and Seonghwa was finally on his way home, Really was just about to step into the house. Fuck he has never been so hungry for you. The entire way back home was just him thinking about you. You and your cunt. You and your wet, throbbing, and needy cunt. Even thinking about it now made his cock jump. He needed to be inbetween your legs. Now. He unlocked the front door and let himself in, taking his shoes off. A warm feeling hugged his arms walking in like it always did, knowing that you were here. Here, home, and horny as shit. Seonghwa went upstairs to your guys’s shared room and opened the door.

"Angel? Oh.."

He looked on the bed and saw you. Sleeping. "Fuck I’m sorry angel.. did I take too long..?" He whispered. He looked at your sleeping body, lips in a soft pout in your innocent and peaceful rest. You looked so adorable, but he was hungry for that needy pussy. That picture stirred him up. "Pretty.. I’m home.." he softly spoke, not trying to wake you up too much, but enough to know he was home. "hwa.." you hummed, very sleepy. "I saw what you sent me.. need a little help?" You whined a little, nodding, and starting to fall asleep again. "Aww poor thing.. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.. here.."

Seonghwa climbed over you and your now sleeping figure. "So pretty.." he lifted the blankets and saw that you were only in underwear. Underwear and his t-shirt. "Fuck Angel.. you know how to turn me on and I wasn’t even here.." he said. He looked at your sleeping figure. "Least you’ll wake up to something pleasant, yes?" He carefully slid your panties off and pushed your legs apart to see your pussy. "Poor thing.. can’t believe I left you hanging for so long.." he put in 2 fingers and curled them a couple times, eliciting sleepy whines from you.

"So pretty. Even while you’re sleeping.." He took his fingers away and licked them clean. "Fuck angel.. gotta get a better taste of you.." he said, now dipping his face between those legs and starting to suck and use his tongue, groaning at how good you tasted. He could hear whines coming from you, and could feel you regaining your consciousness. "H-hwa.. Seonghwa.." you moaned. Seonghwa kept lapping up your cunt and slurping up your juices. He was eating you out like it was his last meal. You clamped your thighs around his face, telling him you were close.

You had a grip on his hair because of how well he was doing. Loud and long moans were drawn out of you. "Seonghwa! Seonghwa please I’m close.. I’m close please! Please mommy I’m gonna cum!" Mommy? That’s surely new. And hot. He kept going until the coil in your abdomen finally snapped and you came hard on his tongue. He licked it all up, but didn’t stop. He was still going. "S-seonghwa! T-too much! Too much!" You moaned, but he was still going; his tongue reaching every spot in your clit. Even the ones you didn’t know about.

Your legs were shaking. Thighs squeezing around his face as he kept eating your out. The slurping and groaning sounds that would usually embarrass you, turning you on more. "M-mommy.. mommy I’m gonna cum again.." you moaned as you felt the same familiar pit in your stomach. With one of his hands he put a hand on your thigh and squeezed it which then set you off again and made you moan his name loud as you creamed on his tongue. And he was there to lick it all up.

You staggeringly whined and moaned as you came down from your second high and seonghwa’s pussy eating finally came to a stop. He came back up and looked at you, cocking his eyebrow in amusement. "Mommy, huh?" Your cheeks flushed and you got goosebumps. You looked away before nodding. "Hm.. interesting.." Seonghwa began taking his sweats off. You could see how much he was painfully aching in his boxers. "Need you so bad Angel.. couldn’t wait to get home after I saw the message.. you and that pretty pussy of yours.. fuck.." he groaned.

"Can’t wait to fuck you.." He took off the blankets and began kissing your neck sweetly. "Hwa.." you whined. "Such a pretty girl.." you were still quite tired from the two previous orgasms, but the way Seonghwa was talking, there was no way he was gonna stop now. He was turned on. "Seonghwa.. c-can’t go again.." you whined. Seonghwa was busy worshipping your body and had already taken his shirt off of you while kissing your boobs. "No bra underneath? In my t-shirt? Someone was needy.." you then pouted. "So are you by how you’re kissing me.." Seonghwa chuckled.

"You don’t seem to mind though, right?" He said and went back to your thighs, kissing and biting on them and listening to the sounds of your moans. Seonghwa took off his boxers and alined himself with your hole. "So sorry I kept you waiting my angel.." he said as he entered you, you gasping at the intrusion. "S-seonghwa I-i can’t.. go again.." he began thrusting in you slowly. "Cmon now.. be a good girl for mommy, eh?" You moaned at his words. He went slow for a little bit before going a little faster, hearing your moans get louder. "Oh my fucking god.. Seonghwa.. please more.."

"Ah ah.. that’s not my name, is it angel? Try again.. what’s my name?"

𝓐𝓝: chat- the delay on this story IM SO SORRY 😭😭😭😭 I GOT IT OUT THOUGH 🥲 Hope you guys enjoy this one!! Lmk in comments or reblogs <3 love you guys and remember to be kind to yourself and drink water ❤️ xoxo

#ateez #ateez hard hours #ateez smut #seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa smut #ateez writing #kpop smut #ateez park seonghwa #none of these words are in the bible #ateez x reader #delulu #kpop imagines #ao3

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artsarasp · 3 days ago

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(Oh god I hope I’m doing this right🫠) uuuummm ask game with “SOMETHING sy and bingge” ???? I love your art and writing so much it makes me crazy 😔😔😔

You're doing great and I love u, Thank u so much <3

"SOMETHING sy and bingge" is a little one-shot I wrote where SY from syonr meets Bingge in a dream!

I think I can share the whole thing since I'm probably not gonna add anything to it- please forgive the nonexistent grammar, I'm too tired to fix it.

Shen Yuan wasn't aware that he wasn't simply dreaming.

He might have been.

If he hadn't left his system on silent, the notification of a brand new side quest would have been a giveaway.

But as it stood now, he had no clue anything was amiss when the beautiful, dark-haired figure he only remembered from his fanmade posters back home stood in front of him.

Luo Binghe.

It wasn't his Binghe, his friend was still shorter than him at this point and his demon heritage was still firmly locked away. The man in front of him was- Wow! Truly out of the final chapters of Proud Immortal Demon Way!

Tall and Handsome, his curly dark hair cascading on his shoulders artfully and framing his face perfectly, letting his shiny zuiyin peek from behind his locks just enough to paint, overall, unfairly beautiful picture.

No wonder every woman fell into the guy's bed! Who wouldn't?

Shen Yuan couldn't help a little squeal of excitement when he spotted Xin Mo– Xin Mo! Was in his hands! He could act a little excited about it, it was a dream after all! He didn’t have to hold back his inner fanboy

“Can I hold Xin Mo?” He asked before Luo Binghe could say anything.

Shen Yuan had paid no mind to how the man had been staring at him until then, his mind probably couldn't come up with more cool things to have this perfect copy of Binghe do.

Just existing was cool enough!

But now that he was waiting for an answer he paid more attention to the movements of the demon emperor. Luo Binghe seemed startled by the request. He looked down at the sword, then back at Shen Yuan.

“You know its name. “ He said.

Shen Yuan scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Of course I know its name! It's the strongest sword in the world!” What sort of question was this? Brain please make the cool Binghe of his dreams not make dumb questions.

Luo Binghe's eyes narrowed, then he stepped closer to Shen Yuan.

He was huge compared to him in his stupid teen body. Shen Yuan might have stepped back if he were awake simply because Luo Binghe's presence was the sort that made you want to shrink back in fear.

But it was only a dream! It was his favorite character in front of him, in all his glory! He couldn't help the grinning from ear to ear.

Binghe seemed… confused by this.

Shen Yuan hummed, still waiting for an answer. He thought, maybe this version of Binghe was slightly influenced by how he saw his own Binghe. This close up, If he looked at him right, with just a tilt of his head to the side he could spot tiny details this version of Binghe shared with his friend.

Despite the age difference they made the same expression when they were confused, their eyebrows creased in the same way, their eyes darted to the side then back down like always. It made him smile more.

“Do you know it's cursed? “ Luo Binghe asks.

“Duh!” He has to roll his eyes again. Really, brain. What sort of questions are you making him ask? “ It's only a dream, what harm can it do?” He says instead.

Binghe keeps staring at him but this time Shen Yuan is not able to read that expression, it's not like any his friend has shown before. Then a smile paints itself on the demon's face.

“You can hold the sword if you answer some questions I have.” He says.

Shen Yuan grimaces. Not even in his dreams can he just have a cool thing! Knowing his brain, Binghe is gonna ask him to recite that poem he's been struggling to copy down in calligraphy class. ugh.

“Okay, but no questions on the curriculum!”

Ah, there's that confused expression again. that's funny.

Binghe clears his throat.

“Are you Shen Jiu?”

Shen yuan blinks. Who's that supposed to be now? Ah, wasn't that Shen Qingqiu’s name before ascension? bah, it didn't matter!

“No, That's Shizun. I'm Shen Yuan. Let me hold the sword now” He reached for the hilt but Binghe simply raised it out of his reach. Then he had the nerve to look amused.

Look at you already abusing your height A-Luo!

“I said questions.” He mocked. “Do you recognize me? You don't seem scared.”

What sort of interview was this? He crossed his arms.

“How many questions? Give me a number!” He wasn't about to have his dream end before being able to hold the sword!

The demon smiled. “A thousand.”

“Eh?! That's so unfair, Binghe!” Shen Yuan cried “I'm gonna wake up before even reaching half of that! Heartless! “

The demon seemed even more amused at the teen's outburst.

Then the hilt of Xin Mo was presented to Shen Yuan.

He let out an undignified squeal again and reached for the sword. only to have it yanked back up before he could touch it again.

Unfair!!! He was being bullied by the hot future version of his best friend!!!

“I changed my mind, I don't want to hold Xin Mo.” He pouted.

A small laugh left the demon emperor.

—

Luo Binghe was known across the three realms as the immortal demon emperor.

He was known by now for taking what he wanted.

In his search for his “Nice Shizun” he hadn’t thought he’d find so many different versions of him. Sometimes his nice shizun wasn’t his shizun at all. Sometimes it was a nice shishu, sometimes it was a nice stranger, sometimes it was a nice shidi.

This “Nice Shizun” seemed to be the main variant missing from his life, every other world he visited had some version of it, only his didn’t.

Why, he couldn’t understand. But he wouldn’t wallow in how unfair his life was, he’d stopped doing that when he first hit the bottom of the abyss.

He just needed to find the perfect nice Shizun to steal for himself. Have another version of himself suffer like he did. it would only be fair.

Maybe the nice Shidi could work.

#ask #wip folder game #svsss

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nerdygaymormon · 3 days ago

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I understand this may sound almost childish but how do you handle your emotions when upsetting discourse takes place in a meeting?

Just got out of Elders Quorum and while most of the discussion was held with good intentions, it started to dip into good ol’ Holier than Thou ‘but not really’ and more particularly referencing a Seminary Q&A panel question with the answer of ‘Mastery of self’ comparing Being LGBTQIA+ is just as much a matter of Self Mastery as any other struggle (Cis/Hetero attraction and porn brought up as The Same)

While I had suspected it to take that turn, I knew I was too emotionally charged in the moment and didn’t speak up for the sake of not rocking the boat in turbulent waters so to speak, despite having several ideas to deepen discussion (as well as time running out) . Especially with the debate as to come out then and there to Make a Point. But more importantly and impactful of the point of “Let’s Ask Questions” instead of Push out Guidance

There were some more compassionate voices that soothed it somewhat but I don’t know how to handle it as of the moment. Should I bring it up again in the future?

Do you think it’s just an age/experience thing? Where as I get older I’ll have a better grasp on myself?

Oof, that's tough.

The idea that they're comparing being queer to being cis/hetero is rich because the LDS Church encourages people to act on being cis/hetero and rewards them, while telling queer people that being queer is alright as long as you don't act on it. If queer people were treated the same, had the same teachings that we'd be rewarded in heaven, then that would be an apt comparison, but this is not the reality we live with.

It's especially hard to be in discussions like this when you're not out of the closet. For one thing, people feel free to share their hot takes when they don't think there's any queer people present. Another is that being in the closet makes it difficult to speak in response, being able to speak openly as a queer person gives you a certain power.

When I was in the closet and those types of lessons happened, especially when I wasn't expecting a discussion on LGBTQ topics, sometimes I just didn't have the spoons to speak up. I would keep my head down, or at some point I would get up and leave the room.

Even as someone who is out, these types of impromptu conversations in a lesson are difficult. Once, instead of speaking up as the lone queer person, I instead spoke to the bishop afterwards about the comments made and the problems with them. He asked what I wanted done to correct the situation and offered several proposals.

To be a queer Latter-day Saint means to be resilient. Here's a few ideas on how to build your resilience:

Build a group of friends you can talk to about these things. Other queer members are good for this, and they can be online or irl. It helps a lot to be understood.

Counter the negative things said about queer people, even if it is just you telling affirmative things to yourself. Do not let negative words go unchallenged because the subconscious has a way of accepting those things.

When I hear things like that, I think to myself these 3 questions: Does that sound like the God I know? Do these words fit with the two great commandments about love? Do I resemble the queer people they're describing? So often the answer to all 3 of these is a resounding NO and I know I can ignore what they're saying.

Think about ways you can respond in the future so that you're prepared. One that I love is if the question is asked "What is something evil that people today consider good?" Raise your hand immediately and without waiting to be called on blurt out "Homophobia and queerphobia" as that makes it uncomfortable for others to say gay marriage or being queer is evil. Here's a few more phrases you can have ready: "These are real people you're talking about, would they feel welcomed and loved if they were here today?" "When I face my maker, I don't think it'll be said that I loved people too much, so I'm going to err on the side of love." "I'm commanded to love my neighbor not my church."

Being in that situation can be anxious and stressful. Learn some breathing techniques that can help calm your body..

I think one thing that makes it difficult to be in these situations as a closeted person is often we haven't experienced queer joy. Being queer shouldn't be defined by only pain or trauma. Queer joy is different than Pride, by which I mean it's not a big celebration, but often is small things such as having a queer friend, eating cake at the wedding of a gay couple, the satisfaction at seeing queer people in a leadership role, learning about queer history and the many ways queer people have worked to make life better, when you embrace the freedom to dress and be yourself, when someone gives you a compliment related to you being queer, and so on.

If you have access to therapy, I recommend it. If you're a college student in the US, your student fees likely cover access to see a therapist on campus. If not, perhaps your insurance will cover sessions with a therapist. The university where I work offers therapy to the community at a discount rate, it's a way for those who aren't licensed to get hours while being supervised by a professor.

Straight Mormons cannot effectively teach what queer Mormons actually experience. Those who aren't close to a queer family member or friend cannot speak knowledgably. Unfortunately most LGBTQ Latter-day Saints have been pushed out and aren't available inside the church and collectively the church is poorer for it.

Here's a novel thought, I wish they would focus more on presenting the actual message and teachings of Christ, what a different world this could be.

#queerstake

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ahoysteviex · 3 days ago

Text

WRITING COMMISSIONS OPEN‼️IN FINANCIAL DISTRESS

Hello everyone. I'm opening writing commissions because I am in dire financial distress right now. PLEASE consider hiring me or donating to me right now. My family NEEDS help.

MY SITUATION:

I am currently living with my family and we are living with relatives. My father has been nonstop searching for work and getting nothing in return. He will get interviewed sometimes and despite being more than qualified and the interview going well, he won't get the job. My mother is disabled and can only work part time but has also not had any luck getting part time work. I have a younger sister who has to be taken out of school and put into online school because we cannot afford gas to drive her to and from school every day. My mother just got discharged from the hospital two days ago after having surgery to have her thyroid removed because she had thyroid cancer. She's an amputee and cannot afford the supplies for her prosthesis. We have a phone bill to pay as well as a storage unit payment for a unit with all of our stuff in it that we'll lose if we cannot make the payment.

To make matters worse, my maternal grandparents are evil people (I can make a separate post explaining this situation further if need be) and had it out for my parents for months. They are emotionally and mentally abusive and manipulative people. Last month, they started a loud, heated argument, as is typical for them. It was relatively short, but eventually my father leaned over and slammed the bedroom door. Honestly, "slammed" even feels like a stretch. But my grandparents called the police and lied to them by saying my dad slammed my grandfather's hand in the door. The police arrested my dad over this despite there being little to no physical evidence and my mother, sister, and I all testifying that it was not true. This happened the weekend before Christmas. My great uncle was able to call in a friend and get my dad released from jail, but he's going to have to sign bonds papers tomorrow and we do not have the $350 they're asking for, so my father may be detained again. He is just getting his foot in the door at Wal-Mart and is waiting on them to call him to finish his onboarding process and this is throwing a wrench into all that.

We're trying desperately to get on our feet. We want to move in to a place of our own. But it's just one misfortune after another. We need money to pay for my mom's medical expenses, our storage unit, our phone service/Internet, gas, and now legal expenses to keep my dad with us. And that doesn't even touch on the car trouble.

MY WRITING:

These commissions are a desperate attempt to help myself and my family, as writing is my only real skill.

I have experience writing for OR would be able to write for the following fandoms:

Stranger Things

Arcane

Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Scream (1994)

Apex Legends

Overwatch

God of War (4 & 5)

Baulder's Gate 3

Dead by Daylight

Cyberpunk 2077

Disco Elysium

My Chemical Romance

Panic! at the Disco

Fall Out Boy

One Direction

I'm proficient in romance, angst, fluff, domestic/familial, and NSFW. I'll write basically anything as long as it isn't a NSFW situation involving minors or animals. I'll write Canon Character x Canon Character, Original Character x Canon Character, and Reader Insert. I'll even do those little head-canon posts. Anything, I just need commissions.

You can find examples of my work on Ao3 here, or under my "my writing" tag here on Tumblr.

I will also beta read for you!

Here is my ko-fi.

Please use that to buy a commission from me! You can also donate there without buying a commission if you want to do that too. And if you aren't in a position to help financially, PLEASE reblog this post to get more eyeballs on it so that other people are given the opportunity to help me.

Thank you for reading. ❤️‍🔥

#writing commissions #freelance writing #fanfic writing #ko fi support #donate if you can #apex legends #overwatch #dead by daylight #baulders gate 3 #arcane #scream franchise #texas chainsaw massacre 1974 #slashers #my writing

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softestqueeen · 3 days ago

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congrats!! wanted to send in 2 requests if that’s alright. if anything the first request would be my top choice if you just wanna choose one :) both would preferably be jennifer jareau x reader

would you do prompts 34. "I love hearing your voice first thing in the morning." & 47. "Oh? Does that turn you on?". I know that 34 isn’t technically in the smut list but I thought it could work, maybe reader tends to have a raspier voice in the mornings. JJ saying 34 and reader saying 47

and if it’s not a bother I’d like to see prompt 5. “Please, look at me. Breathe, god please, breathe” with JJ saying the line after reader gets severely injured during a case. A happy little fluffy ending where reader is doped up on meds in the hospital and starts telling JJ that’s she’s really pretty and being an absolute flirt

a/n: so this is the first reqeuest, you can read the second one here! thank you sm for requesting this! ofc you can interpret the prompts however you like, i just tried to give them a little bit of structure. i hope you enjoy this <3 warnings: 18+ MDNI!! smut, fingering, slight dom!reader, voice kink pairing: jennifer "jj" jareau x reader I 896 words special prompts I special masterlist

After you and your firlfriend, Jennifer Jareau, returned from two back-to-back cases, you both needed some time to just sit back and relax.

You returned yesterday in the middle of the night, exhausted and in an definete need of a realxing shower and some good time with your girlfriend.

Showering took up all of oyur energy though, so all the two of you could do that night was fall into bed and sleep.

The next morning started later than usual, your exhausted bodies seeking the warmth and comfort of the sheets and of each other. You could feel JJ shift next to you, the arm that was currently wrapped around you tightening further.

Her blonde hair looked so incredibly soft, a thin gap in the curtains letting the sun shine on it. You reach out your hand to tuck a strand of behind her ear, her eyes opening and a lazy smile appearig on her lips.

"Morning, baby," you mumble, your lips close to her ear, almost touching it. Your voice was still a little rough and definetely being more on the raspier side, this being the first time you've talked in a few hours. At your words, you could hear JJ's breath hitch, her breathing becoming slightly irregular.

Your girlfriend tilts up her head, now being able ot look into your eyes. "I love hearing your voice first thing in the morning." Now her hands wander to wrap around your neck, your head lifting slightly to accomodate her before laying back down on her arms.

You let one of your hands run down the legth of her, moving over her body and resting on her hip. Nudging her ear with your nose, you whisper in to her ear.

"Oh? Does that turn you on?" Your lips stretch into a smirk, her cheeks turning pink. Busted.

Leaning down towards her face, you finally connect your lips, a soft sight leaving JJ's lips at the contact. Deciding that you both were not in the mood for teasing after not having been able to do anything with each other, you don't hesitate to deepen the kiss, letting your tongue slip into her mouth.

Now moving your other hand to her hip as well, you turn the both of you around, your fronts now pressed together with JJ on her back.

You never stop kissing, even when one of you hands slowly wanders down towars JJ's panties. Her breath hitched again, once let two fingers wander over your her still clothed core.

"Let me show you how much I love you," a small groan left her lips at your words, "Let me make you feel good JJ."

"Please," was all she could get out.

She let out a content sigh once you pulled away her panties and made contact with her wetness. You let your fingerds glie through her folds, occasionally flicking over her clit.

After some teasing, you start circling her entrance, slowly pushing inside. You pulled away from kissing her, one of her hands wandering to your sholder, the other one trying to cover the noises she was making.

Once you realised what she was doing, you stopped your movements and pulled out of her. "Don't cover your mouth, I want to hear you. Please."

Your voice held almost as much desperation as the noices she was making once you stopped. Hearing your words the blond immediately removed her hand, placing it on your other shoulder.

Resuming your movements you slipped another finger into her, slowly curling them to hit her g-spot. Her moans were now flowing freely, her face contorting in pleasure with every curl or flick of your thumb against her clit.

"You look so beautiful for me, baby? Do you like that, me talking to you? I can feel you getting closer," you could feel her walls clencing your fingers.

"Mhm, yes, please. Don't stop." JJ's voicce was breathy, with her eyes closed you could look at her without her shying away. Eyebrows drawn together, nose scrunched up and lips parted. In this moment she looked almost etheral, her nipples peeking though her thin sleep shirt, her hands wandering to you neck.

Her eyes opened and she pulled you down to her, immediately deepening the kiss once your lips touch. You add a third finger and your lips lose contact again, her head falling back and her eyes rolling.

"Come for me, JJ. Let go for me." The stimulation of your finger on her clit, the fingers inside of her and your words and voice were all it took to push her over the edge, the coil in her stomach finally snapping.

With a shout of your name JJ came, your slowing movements carefuly guiding her through her orgasm. Her limp hands fall to her sides, her erratic breathing sowly coming to a stop.

You oulled out of her, righting her underwear again. Laying down next to her, you pull her against you and cover the two of you with the blanket. One of your hands slowly starts to trace patterns on her back.

"You alright?" you whisper hte question into her ear, for some reason not wanting to disrupt the silent peace that settled over you.

"Yea, I'm fine. You wanna go again?" Her question made both of you laugh, though you didn't hesitate to rid yourself of the rest of your clothing.

the requests for this event are OPEN! here are the prompts!

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated! i’d like to write more with criminal minds characters, so if you have any ideas/requests lmk!!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueeen

requests open!

taglist: @silvermagnolias@milywatermelon@bigbananaa

#x reader #reader insert #ao3 #love #fluff #no y/n #criminal minds #smut #jj x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x you #jennifer jareau #jj jareau #wlw #lesbian #queer #ask #request #follower celebration

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korgidorgi · 2 days ago

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I LOVE YOUR WINGED READER STUFF.

At the end of your HC with Mel, you mentioned that Reader and Mel see each other after the fic with Ambessa. So, and hear me out, Singed turns Reader into a giant monster to fight in the war‼️

Mel Medarda x Winged!Reader - new plot idea (thanks anon :3)

I actually already have a plan for the next bit of the story, but I really do love that idea! So I’ve maybe kinda added an alternate timeline for you :)

This was actually super fun to write, thank you so much for the prompt! I’m so glad you like my series!!!! I didn’t really do the giant monster thing, but I did practically get rid of everything that makes King Raven King Raven >:3 (lmk if you really want the big scary monster reader and I’ll write another one this was so funnn)

Idk when I’m posting this, but I wanna post it now bc all I’ve been doing the last few days is writing writing writing for this Winged!Reader series thing. The hyper fixation is hyper fixating and I can’t stop it. Gods I need to learn patience lmaoooo (I lied I wrote for 6 hours and now I’m posting)

Lowkey, this can be a follow up next chapter to the Ambessa fucking hates you fic. Like, it actually flows and that one makes this all make sense. Nothing feels better than puzzle pieces putting themselves together for a project you never thought would be a project. Like, I’ve had this fucking character in my head since before season two came out and this just let me put it all together and develop this story for myself. (Maladaptive daydreamer much?) Anyways, I’ll stop ranting and raving, I just actually lost myself in writing this wsjjkanjsidfiwj.

Oh my gyatt this is a long one…

Warnings: Violence, cursing, mind control?, blood, injuries, angst

Summary: basically the above ask.

Ambessa still has you in her possession, hidden away from the world. Singed runs the final ‘treatment’ you’d failed to receive three years ago when he first had you in his lab, when he first made you into his creation. Under Noxian control, possession, and guard, you remain close to his needles and his concoctions. With the help of the Herald’s existence and the relationship with Singed’s work, your mind becomes entangled with thoughts that are not yours. Commands slip into your head, your body obeys. Flashes of what’s happening feel like a dream, or a bad trip. Sound is a whirr in your mind, blending together in a cacophony of noise. You’re unable to make out what is producing them, let alone be able to separate them. Your mind is barely present, pushed down by whatever concoctions Singed has pumped into you once again. Trying to fight the loss of control is painful, a way to keep you compliant, keep you beaten back and unable to defy your destiny.

Flashes of large ships stain your mind, just barely in focus. The harsh clinking of metal, chains, waves against a hull, people shouting, Ambessa barking orders. It’s a blur. The only thing crystal clear in your head is the orders you’ve been given by Singed and Ambessa. It’s hard to focus on anything but your orders, even then, you blindly follow, unable to stop your own body from moving on its own accord. Your body is wrapped in red and metal. Noxian war garments. A new, metallic mask adorns your face, a twisted version of a falcon with sharp edges and a dark aura. Your hands grip the weapons in your hands; a Noxian war spear in one, and a close combat heavy blade gauntlet in the other.

The boat lurches, and the utter of a single word sends you into action. Your wings spread, beating quick and sending you into the air. Dodging projectiles, you use your weapons expertly, fighting with horrifying swiftness and strength. Piltovian’s stand no chance against you. You’re stabbing, slashing, swinging, wrestling with anyone you come across. Each face your eyes focus on only reveal the same sinister face that put you in this position, the face that causes agony whenever you see it. Rage boils in your blood, activating the Shimmer in your body. Pain surges through your body and your mind, forcing you to continue and discouraging any urge to disobey.

You’ve flown past the enemy lines, far into their territory. Your objective to clear a path to the Hexgates at any means necessary. You slaughter your way to the building, leaving so much blood in your wake. Stepping up the staircase to the front doors of the building, you wipe the blood from your weapons, revealing the shimmering steel beneath the red liquid. The heavy doors are locked, but it’s not a problem for you. One swift, Shimmer-fueled kick to it breaks the locking mechanisms. The doors uselessly swing open slowly, groaning as the hinges protest. More enforcers are inside, opening fire the moment they see you. You move quickly, dodging most of their fire as you rush them one by one. Blood splatters across your form with each enforcer you take out, staining your red drapes, your feathers, and your armor. Only a few stray bullets hit their mark, but only to just end up grazing you. Small tears in your outfit build up, showing the others how much strength you wield against them despite each injury you sustain. None of your injuries slow you down, your body moving like a machine. Your movements are automatic, calculated, the end goal to remove everyone who stands against you. The Shimmer in your veins helps to begin closing the wounds, keeping you moving towards your objective.

His face is everywhere. No matter how many times you rid your vision of him, another version of him pops up, another sting of pain paired with it. You close in on him, quickly slashing his throat with your spear before he can fire at you. Another version of him fires at you from down the hall. Your eyes snap over to him and your body moves on instinct, quickly closing in on him. You thrust your spear into his chest, easily slicing through his blue armor and quickly staining it a dark red. He falls from the tip of your spear, only for another version to take his place further down the hall. It’s a nightmare you can’t wake from. The only way forward is to fight, to kill until you stop seeing his face. You remove the blade from another body, huffing as you do. Confusion, rage, panic, it all flows through your system, your mind. You can feel that something is wrong with you, but you’re so disorientated, stuck in this twisted nightmare that feels so real with the pain searing through your body.

You turn your attention back to the task at hand, focusing on clearing the way to the Hexgates. One more figure stands in your way. Singed stands at the end of the hall, donned in a white cloak, a hood over his head. There is no weapon in his hands, only the golden threat of pain swirling around him.

His words are muffled, making your vision blur more. You shake your head, trying to clear your vision. You can barely make out what he’s saying. It’s so similar to his voice, but there’s another element to it. Something gentle.

“Get out of my head…” You seethe at him, your grip on your weapons increasing as you begin to take strides towards him.

With a wave of his hand, a wave of golden pain rushes towards you. You swiftly dodge it, beating your wings to get an advantage above him. Before you can get too high to make your move, two golden tendrils wrap around your ankle, pulling you back down to the ground. You quickly adapt, swiftly closing in on him to land a strike against him. You miss. He’s too quick and sends another wave of gold at you, his mottled voice ringing out yet again, this time his tone is a bit more desperate. Only a few of his words stick in your mind.

“I… …not… …r— enemy—“

His voice is barely understood, fading in and out of your mind, but it doesn’t sound like him. It’s something softer. Familiar.

Despite it, you don’t stop your objective. Your body moves against your will, continuing to strike out at him. Your body and mind are still driven by fear and illusions, working like an unstoppable, well-oiled machine.

With each golden wave of potential pain sent your way, you fight harder. It’s a very balanced face off. But you don’t let the golden waves touch you. Who knows how painful he’ll make you. You can’t get close enough to land a hit on him, but neither can he. It doesn’t seem like he’s fighting very hard to stop you, but hard enough to keep you at bay.

“Fucking fight me you coward!” You urge him angrily, rushing in to try to land another hit.

Before you can reach him, another golden wave comes at you from the side, sending you into the walls of the hall. You let out a grunt at the contact, your mask flying off your face and landing on the floor with a metallic clatter.

Something jostles in your mind. Now your mind can’t make up if your looking at him, or Mel. That’s impossible. Mel is still missing. She can’t be here. Not with Singed.

You shake your head, trying to clear your vision and your mind. You let out a growl, fighting against another golden wave that tries to pin you to the wall. He speaks again, the voice muffled, distorted. Like there’s two people talking at the same time. He approaches you, a hand outstretched to keep you at bay with his golden magic. The closer he gets, the more confusing everything becomes. You’re seeing two faces on the same body, sending waves of intense emotional distress, polar opposites. It’s overwhelming, causing pain to shoot through your mind. You lash out again, trying to keep him away, to end him, to stop the mental torment. Mel is gone and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Please!” He pleads with you, sending another wave of energy to keep you against the wall. “Remember!”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” You scream at him, your vision flicking between Mel’s face and Singed’s.

You fight against the golden energy, but it’s stronger than your body, keeping you in your vicinity as he approaches you. You shake your head again, trying to right your mind and your vision, to try to make sense of this nightmare. Despite how unreal everything looks and sounds, the pain and emotion surging through your body and mind screams otherwise. You can’t tell what is what anymore, if anything is even real.

You break free of the golden energy, rushing him again with unparalleled speed. You manage to push him back, pinning him against the wall on the opposite side of the hall. You hold your blade against his throat, your body freezing as you pin him to the wall. Your mind can’t make up who you’re looking at. You can’t bring yourself to hurt her.

“What did they do to you, my Dove?”

The first cohesive sentence uttered since your mind got thrown into a blender. Your chest feels like it’s being squeezed, but your body remains frozen. Singed would never know to say that. Despite your mind flicking through the two different faces, one thing that remains constant is the eyes. Full of concern and sorrow, holding a tenderness only one person has ever shown you. Your breaths come out in ragged huffs, your mind erupting in pain as you try to piece everything together.

A hand comes up to gently move a piece of hair from your face, the touch gentle, so gentle. The longer you look, the more clear her face becomes, the illusions beginning to fade from your mind and vision. A soft, warm, golden glow emanates from her hand, her face slowly coming into focus, the illusions of Singed’s wrinkled, bandaged face slowly fading. You blink, shaking your head slightly before focusing back on her.

“Mel…?” You ask so softly, your voice breaking.

Your grip loosens on her, noticing the heavy blade you have against her throat. A stab of guilt washes over you, sending a small electric shock through your chest. Slowly, you come to your senses, but the pain in your head begins to increase. Your face contorts into one of pain as you try to fight it, trying to believe that Mel is here. And you almost killed her.

You back away from her, your body trembling from the emotional and reality whiplash. Your weapon drops to the ground with a loud clatter, echoing through the hall. Your hands move to your head as the pain increases. The room begins to spin, sending you stumbling back as you try to right your bearings. Pained cries leave your lips, both from the physical pain and emotional overwhelm. Tears streak down your cheeks, both from pain and intense anguish. You can’t bring yourself to look at her again, backing away from her. You glance down at the armor you’re clad in, noticing the blood staining the metal and soaking it the cloth.

A soft hand rests on your shoulder, pulling you back to the present. You flinch from her touch, backing away from her yet again. Your eyes meet hers, wide with fear and anguish as you finally see her face. The pain in your head is intense, making it hard to focus. Mel just takes another couple steps to you, placing both of her hands on each side of your face.

“My Dove…” She murmurs softly, her eyes taking in your physical and mental torment. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

She presses her forehead against yours, her eyes closing softly. You lean into her touch, your body losing the strength to continue with your orders from Ambessa. It’s like a filter has been removed from your mind, or maybe placed in to filter out the filth that’s been clouding your mind. Everything is still confusing, you’re still trying to piece together what you’ve just done, what you’ve been seeing, acting upon.

A choked sob leaves your throat, your knees becoming weak under her touch. The way she so quickly forgives you. Her arms wrap around you, pulling you against her as you cry, apologies tumbling from your mouth as you cling to her.

“Its okay, Dove.” She reassures you, her voice soft, smooth like silk. “You weren’t in control. It wasn’t you.”

You try to compose yourself, remembering the war that’s happening outside. After a few moments, you pull back, gazing at her, taking in the golden markings that adorn her skin. Your hand comes up to cup her cheek, your thumb gently stroking across her skin, tracing over the gold.

“I can’t believe you’re really here…” You murmur softly, your voice threatening to break again.

“I’m here, Y/N,” she reaffirms to you, giving you a small squeeze to emphasize her statement. “I always will be.”

“We can’t stay here.” You speak again, pulling back from her, albeit reluctantly.

“I know.” She replies solemnly. “We have to stop Viktor from getting to the Hexgates.”

“Yeah,” you confirm quietly.

She takes a step towards you, not allowing you to pull away from her.

“He’s not in the sphere.” You reveal to her, trying to remember the flashes of Ambessa’s plans. “It’s a diversion.”

“Then where is he? How is he getting to the Hexgates?” She asks, concern evident in her tone. “I don’t know, exactly.” You admit, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, I wish I could be of more help to you.”

“Don’t apologize,” she brings a hand to your cheek again, gently guiding you to look at her again. “You can only do what you can.”

••• ••• •••

The telltale sound of a rifle firing rings from the other side of the door. There’s a glow about Mel, a physical manifestation of her magic. The large doors of the building swing open as Mel approaches them, sunlight bathing the hall in its warmth. She approaches Ambessa, lowering her hood.

You look out at the terrace from behind her, seeing Caitlyn kneeling on the ground, a body collapsed right next to her. The slew of Noxian soldiers awaiting Ambessa’s orders, red flags waving in the wind.

“If you care for me at all, spare their lives.” Mel speaks as she strides out onto the terrace of the building. “There is nothing to gain from this senseless bloodshed!”

Ambessa rolls her eyes at Mel’s appearance. “Still a fox.” She scoffs before calling out to her soldiers.

Her soldiers weapons raise, broad shields protecting their bodies. Mel glances around at the army before her. A distant approaching sound of music echos through the city, an airship rounding a corner and setting off explosions as it enters the airspace. People on hoverboards launch themselves from the craft, descending on the soldiers. Everyone’s attentions are on the cacophony above.

“Fire!” Ambessa orders, taking a swing at the Firelights as they swoop in from above.

Chaos erupts as the soldiers follow her orders, attacking the firelights as they close in. Some of the soldiers engage Mel and yourself, the two of you defending yourselves against the soldiers. The scuffle ends quickly, however. The ground shakes as a large block slams into the cocoon like sphere, smashing it into pieces. You immediately rush over to Mel, using your wings to wrap around her to shield her from the blast. Mel also shields the two of you from the debris with her magic, a golden shield appearing between the two of you and the impact. Once the dust settles, you step back from her, glancing between the diversion and Ambessa.

Ambessa smirks at the two of you, glancing at Caitlyn’s fallen face. Her soldiers move to create a ring around you, a sort of battle ring.

“Mother, look at the price of your ambition.” Mel speaks again, glancing around at the chaos of the city, taking another step forward. “You’ve sacrificed everything. Rictus, Kino, the city I built for this family.”

“If it was for us, you wouldn’t have fought me.” Ambessa sneers at her.

Mel scoffs at her mother. “You are no Medarda.”

“You remember your—“

A sudden blow from Caitlyn cuts Ambessa’s response off. “Shut up and fight!”

Caitlyn grabs an unattended spear from the ground, readying herself to take on the warlord. Without words, Ambessa picks up her own spear before launching it at Caitlyn. Mel deflects the spear with her magic, the weapon ricocheting off the shield and embedding itself into one of the Noxian soldiers surrounding the terrace. Ambessa doesn’t wait before sending her foot into Caitlyn, breaking the hilt of her spear and sending her stumbling back. She puts on her own helmet, preparing for a fight against the three of you. Between Mel’s Magic and Caitlyn’s desperation, Ambessa continues to hold her own. Caitlyn and Mel trade attacks, but are unable to do much against the warlord. Mel’s magic just gets absorbed by runic stones wrapped around Ambessa’s arm. The woman fights through a slash to her leg by Caitlyn, easily taking the younger woman down. Mel moves in for a close quarters attack, still using her magic against her to almost no effect.

You stalk around the other side of Ambessa, waiting for a good moment to strike. While she’s distracted with Mel and Caitlyn, you quickly move in, raising your own weapon to take a slash at her. She senses your attack, pushing Mel back before turning her attention to you and colliding with you, flipping you over her shoulder. Her attention is divided by the three of you, but she’s good at staying on top of your movements. You scramble to your feet again, ignoring the searing pain in your abdomen, beating your wings and going in for another attack, this time from above. Ambessa flips Caitlyn onto the ground again, using her stones to simultaneously block another magical attack from Mel. Before you can land a hit on the warlord, she dodges, grabbing one of your wings, and throws you to the ground once more. She doesn’t let go, bringing her foot down on it with a snap. She lets out a smug scoff at your cries of pain, enjoying the way you remain somewhat under her control, even if you’ve broken through the mental force of it. She sends her boot into the side of your head, finally dropping your wing at the dazed expression on your face. She stalks towards Caitlyn, who grabs a broken spear. She moves in for her own attack, but Ambessa quickly reverses the roles, holding the blade dangerously close to Caitlyn’s face. A golden shield tries to prevent the the blade from touching Caitlyn, but in the end, Ambessa’s blade hits his mark, slicing through Caitlyn’s face.

Ambessa stands, triumphant over Caitlyn as she watches the blood gush from her face and onto the ground. She pulls her mask off.

“You fought well, child.” She speaks down to her, watching the blood drip from Caitlyn’s eye.

Her eyes finally catch the small blade in Caitlyn’s hand, the stones on the ground, and it dawns on her.

“Now!” Caitlyn shouts back to Mel.

You glance from your dazed position, over to see Mel rise from the ground, her eyes boring into her mother’s.

“A wolf has no mercy.” She speaks, her hand landing on a thick necklace.

Your vision begins to fade in and out, the combination of the pain and injuries you’ve sustained beginning to take a toll on you. You try to rise, your strength sapped from you from the fight. Pain shoots through your wing. It’s bent at an angle it shouldn’t bend in, in an area that doesn’t bend. Your chest heaves at the pain and exhaustion, but your grit through it, focusing on folding your wings and sealing them back in the ink of your back tattoo. It’s an agonizing process with the damage done to your wing. You no longer feel the pain in your wing, but in the ink embedded in your skin where they’re stored.

When you finally gain the strength to sit up a bit, you look over to see Mel approach her mother. She catches the taller woman, gently bringing her down to the ground and cradling her in her lap. It’s hard to watch. Despite the life the woman had led, she was still Mel’s mother.

You force yourself to your feet, pushing past the pain of a multitude of injuries. As the adrenaline wears off, the pain becomes more pronounced, even revealing injuries you hadn’t realized you’d sustained. You limp over to Mel, lowering yourself to your knees at her side. Your hand rests softly on her shoulder, a small gesture of comfort if she’ll accept it.

That’s when the strings from above latch themselves to every single person, Noxian, Piltovian, Zaunite. Linking them— you— to the Arcane, to Viktor. It feels almost identical to what Singed had done to you, the magic of the arcane flowing almost the same as the Shimmer in your veins.

It doesn’t last long, an explosion from the top of the Hexgates sounds off. The strings are destroyed, dropping everyone back to the ground.

It aggravates your wounds again, your blood pooling on the ground more than before. The feeling of soft hands on your face and shoulder encourage you to open your eyes. You meet Mel’s eyes, concern etched into her features. She looks over your injuries, wincing at the sight of you all beaten up, your blood pooling on the ground beneath you.

You raise a shaky hand to rest on one of her wrists, your fingers gently wrapping around her. She can see the pain in your eyes, and you hers.

“I’m okay…” You try to reassure her, forcing a small smile. “Are you… are you okay?”

You look over her for any injuries of her own before she guides your face back to look at her. “I’m unharmed.” She replies softly.

“Mel… I…” You try to speak, but you’re almost at a loss for words.

Her thumb brushes across your cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry about your mother…” You finally speak, leaning into her touch, your eyes closing again.

“Don’t be.” She responds, her voice soft but firm.

She doesn’t say anything more. She just pulls you closer to her, embracing you gently.

#x reader #fanfiction #arcane league of legends #arcane netflix #mel medarda #mel medarda x reader #arcane mel medarda #arcane mel #lol arcane #arcane lol #arcane #arcane mel x reader #mel medarda x you

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tillichan · 7 hours ago

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𓇼 ⋆.˚ Your life in Love and Deepspace for @frostfall-matches ⋆.˚ 𓇼

I thought Sea God could go anywhere. Not this Sea God.

You were born in Whalefall City, Lemuria. Along with your excellent archery skills, you were quick and flexible, and so Elder Amund made you a guardian of Sea God. Oh, how wrong he had been! Sea God, Rafayel, and you had a lot in common, being a natural troublemakers and rulebreakers, not to mention that you not only didn't stop Rafayel from attempts to escape from Lemuria, but also helped him. Eventually, Amund was forced to appoint a guardians for you and Rafayel. Not that it's stopped you two though. Spending a lot of time together, you slowly started developing feelings for each other. It was painfully obvious to others, but somehow you two didn't realize it, bickering and playfully flirting with each other like an old married couple.

Rafayel: The Heart of Sea God, my Heart, do you want it? You: No. Rafayel: Huh? What do you mean no? You don't know what you're rejecting! And while you two are bickering, Algae and Konche: Ah, we wouldn't live to see them married.

Of course, Elder Amund was against your relationships, he was sure that you were distracting Rafayel from his duties of Sea God. He had to look for a follower to save Lemuria, instead of dreaming about escape with you. But time passed, and the follower never showed up. The Flame of Lemuria slowly faded away. So you and Rafayel decided to journey to find another way to save Lemuria. Of course, Elder Amund went with you to your disappointment. But even this grumpy elder can't stop you two from excitement, you finally were able to travel and see the world beyond Lemuria.

Rafayel: Would it bother you terribly if we left Elder Amund behind? You: I was about to say the same thing.

On the way, you met a lot of new people, and not only people. You visited the Tower of Thorns and helped the Foreseer to go out of Astra's control. And in return, he predicted that the road ahead will not be easy, but you will finally find happiness. After that you helped a young prince to escape from parental control and released the dragon. The last one was totally by accident. Well, the world nearly ended, but it is so little, right? Even though, you and Rafayel have helped many people, and not only people too, you didn't find the way to save Lemuria. The Flame went out, Lemuria was plunged into darkness, Lemurians fall into a deep sleep. Unfortunately, you and Rafayel too. You grew close during your journey, realizing your feelings and confessing. You promised each other to meet again in your next life, while falling into a deep sleep.

Linkon City

Being a Deepspace Hunter isn't an easy task, but you were happy to get this job. At least, it'll help you to solve the puzzle about your extraordinary Evol, about the strange birthmark on your chest and about the mermaids. You from childhood were obsessed with mermaids and stories about Lemurians, because one day you fell of the boat and were saved by mermaid, merman, to be exact. Of course, no one believed you. Honestly, it was hard to try to remember what happened that day. You remembered just the same birthmark on the chest of merman and his soft voice.

"So we meet again, my beloved one. Hurry and grow up, I'll look forward to our next meeting"

You wanted to meet this merman again. For some reason you felt deep connection with water, with myth about Lemuria, with this merman. As soon as you became a deepspace hunter, you began investigating into Lemuria, especially archaeological excavations. Your investigation led you to mysterious artist, Rafayel.

Evol: Water | Weapon: Water Bow

Your Evol allows you to summon a water bow and to shoot water arrows. Evol of water isn't a rare type, but somehow you've really deep connection with water and inhabitants of the sea depths, like you're actually one of them. It makes you very powerful Deepspace Hunter, you are able to kill any Wanderer by your water arrows.

Relationships

Rafayel is deeply in love with you. You're his beloved bride, his partner in crime, his other half, his soulmate, his everything. It doesn't matter who he'll become in his future live, be it Sea God, a little fish or a game character, he'll find the way to be with you. This life, next life and the life after, forever. It took time for you two to become a couple again though. It didn't help that you unlike Rafayel had no memories about your past life. Before you learned the truth, you and Rafayel survived so much. You two investigated the case of archaeological excavations of Lemuria and then punished the people who ran experiments on Lemurians. Of course, it was not without your usual bickering. Your memories came back through one of Rafayel's paintings. It was also the day you confessed to each other again. So you found out that your birthmark isn't actually a birthmark, it's a mark of Sea God, which means that your heart belongs to him. And he has the same mark, which means that he's yours. You two are the most noisy, teasing and annoying couple in this World. Poor Thomas goes crazy with your antics. This is not surprising or shocking to him if you two do something strange like cosplaying, Of course, for the important cause (no). painting together some weird pictures and ask him to exhibit it, because why not, doing thrill-seeking activities and spending the lazy days, sometimes weeks after. Even though, you're a headache, Thomas thinks that you're a match made in heaven. The day of your wedding is the Day of revival of Lemuria. You held a ceremony on Jewel Reef.

I promise to give you my heart. I promise to offer all of my faith for you. This is my promise to you.

During the wedding vows, something strange happened. Rafayel's eyes changed, like he was possessed by something, powers of Sea God came back to him through your vows. The Flame of Lemuria fire again, because you, his wife, his the most devoted follower are with him. The Flame will burn as long as you're together.

Sylus interested in you, because you were the one who released him and gave him name. You were bold enough to escape alive from the dragon, being sure that your Sea God protects you. Huh, what nonsense? Remembering his past life, Sylus watches you. Sometimes you notice a weird crow, following you everywhere, or a scary surrealistic eye that looks more like a hallucination. The more he learns about you, the more he wishes to approach you. His interest goes beyond the interest in a person, he likes you. But unfortunately your Sea God protects you like actually. He will not allow this. He sics his seagulls on the crow and curtain the windows before the eye shows up.

Xavier is your neighbor, your colleague, your friend and the one who actually knows about your past life. You two met at work in UNICORNS and got along quickly, because Xavier already knew you, he didn't mind to approach you first. You and Xavier share the same hobbies, for example reading manga or playing videogames. Being a big foodies, you two like to try something new, especially after missions. Xavier never discussed your past life with you, he is truly grateful for your help though. He just doesn't want to look strange in your eyes. He isn't sure that would you believe it if he said that you're a lover of Sea God and he, Xavier, is a prince from another planet. But maybe, one day, he will talk to you about it.

Zayne is your doctor. You two met in the hospital, because you were concerned about your birthmark. It was very large, not to mention that no one in your family has the same birthmark. You have only friendly relations. Sometimes Zayne treats you to sweets and latte, especially if he knows that you had a really difficult mission. Zayne barely remembers his past life and your first meeting. Only occasionally, fragmentary memories resurface unexpectedly in his dreams.

Zayne is sleeping, it's very cold and lonely here. "Is he alive?" "Who knows..." Who is here? How they got here? "Hey you, poke him to see if he's alive" "Poke him by yourself!" "No, you do!" "No, you!" Ah, these two are so noisy.

Zayne usually wakes up with a nostalgic smile after this dream, trying to realize where did he hear the woman's voice from his dream.

Lemurians are worshipping you like a God. You're a wife of their God, so they are not so far from the truth. Algae and Konche are especially happy to see you and Rafayel together. You always got along well, Algae and Konche were our friends in Whalefall City. Unlike them, Elder Amund disapproves of you, but who is going to ask for his approval, right? You and Rafayel enjoy teasing Elder Amund, his reactions are always so funny.

Thomas is someone like brother or mentor figure for you. Even though you and Rafayel often bring problems to him, Tomas loves you and supports your relationships. He's the one who looks for you two every time your brave team goes in search of adventure. And getting lost of course, because it's you. Tomas is like reliable brother who can come to the rescue.

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace headcanons #love and deepspace matchup #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #xavier headcanons #zayne headcanons #lemuria headcanons #thomas headcanons #frostfall-matches

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sos717 · 8 hours ago

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Yes, Im Back

Here it is you guys, this is going to be the clearest and most simple explanation I’ve done so far of manifestation and your identity as conciousness and what that means for experience & the world unfolding. Don’t worry if you’re new to this, this will help!

THIS IS A MASSIVE POST, TAKE YOUR TIME AND GRAB SOME WATER, YOUR ABOUT TO CHANGE YOUR LIFE 😉🤭🤭

————————————————————

So around 7 years ago I started stepping into the world of what people typically call manifestation. I went down the rabbit hole of Subliminals, Law of Attraction, Law of assumption, NonDuality and finally to where I am now, the unlabeled.

I want to preface by saying, I have been through an unimaginable amount of turmoil, and growth while on my journey to understanding reality and the way the world appears.

I’ve spent all of my time from back to when I first found out about this side of reality, to today while I’m writing this post, constantly looking at a multiplicity of teachings and teachers to figure it out, except until the very end. I really want you to know this because it’s very important to not brush this off as if it’s not possible for you, as if you have to adapt a technique or secret. This isn’t something that’s to be exhausting. With that being said, let’s move forward.

We all want things, we all have ideas of a life we hope to live, we want to fill it with all the experiences and specific details that match our taste. But this is actually, where the problem begins.

The way manifestation is taught is inherently wrong, I’ve fully stopped watching and consuming content that has anything to do with manifesting all together, because no matter what it is, Law of assumption, Law of attraction, all of the other ideologies that promise your desires, they all have a fundamental flaw, identity.

They usually all entail a similarity: methods, techniques, specific things you can do and ways you can act to make an outcome happen. All the while throwing in a random “because you’re the god of your reality”. And instead of focusing on the phrases that relate to the center of all of it, YOU, it’s simply just brushed past.

And not just the typical “your source”, “your operant power”, “you are the manifestation,

We get it but wtf does that actually mean, and why should you care??? Well, let’s get into this, because once you start from point A, everything else makes sense.

What all these teachings of the world get wrong is the idea that you can want things and desire, as source. Fundamentally this is a paradox, you can’t exist in desire and want if you are the source of reality. It’s not to say you aren’t, but it’s to say, you don’t ACTUALLY want and desire, but the illusion of being separate from the world is what makes you want and desire.

Let’s break the illusion.

Ask yourself this for me. “Am I aware”.

The answer will always be yes. Undeniably. And no matter how many times you repeat this, the answer is always yes, no matter a feeling, no matter a pleasant or unpleasant experience in the world, no matter any circumstance, you will always say yes.

Why is this so important to explore?

Because you are able to see from direct experience what source is.

When you asked yourself that question, did you notice something weird that happened? It’s almost like everything paused for a split second and your attention went somewhere to find the answer, and a response came from there. Look closer, ask yourself the question again, and this time try to find where the answer is coming from.

You’ll find that it comes out of nowhere, and if you try to trace it as far back as you can, to even before you answer yes, there this empty space of knowing that the answer conjures in.

This is consciousness. This is you.

Whether you name it consciousness/awarness or knowing, it doesn’t matter, it’s all interchangeable. But the important thing to note is, this thing doesn’t ever go anywhere. That is your true identity, the starting point of all ideas, the starting point to anything that can possibly be known. Every decision is from here, every expression comes from here, everything leads back to knowing. When there is emotion, it is known, when there is idea, it is known.

You being able to know that you are aware comes from this. This is the unseeable, the thing that can’t be perceived in any way, this is origin, its source, and its you. Take a shot at it, try to see what knowing looks like, its weight, its shape, its color, its dimensions, what its favorite color is, what it doesn’t like or does like. You’ll be left with nothing, as in no descriptions, but definitely knowing that there is a presence there that never goes away. Now try finding its name, its age, its skin color, its voice. You cant, and yet, from this very nothingness comes your undeniable answer that you exist and you are aware of your existence.

You don’t need and feelings to know, you dont need sight, sound, and sense of perception, you don’t even need to acknowledge the body in any way, but you know you “are”.

At some point when there were no worlds and universes, there was an unseeable, dimensionless plane from what everything came from, does this sound familiar? Before there were things, there was no-thing, a presence yes, but no objects. And from this, reality was expressed, but source can’t go away, the fundamental key to everything there is today, has to remain, or else everything else would not exist.

Concouisness is what you are. And it IS the origin.

Now how tf do you live you dream life???

By understanding that the world is also just an expression of source, conciousness/you.

I need you to understand something that I thing we can all agree on, if everything has one source, it would only make sense for everything to be the extension of that thing that gives it life. The world is no different, and trust me I know this without a reasonable doubt. I’ve spent closer to a decade trying to figure this out. Everything exists in/on the field of consciousness/you.

I need you to trust me, because no matter how far you have been in your journey and how tiring it might have been like it was for me, I promise you, this is worth it all.

Step away from the ideas of wanting and needing, put on your neutrality glasses and perceive the world as 2 simple things, conciousness and conscious expression. These are the only 2 things that drive experience itself.

Understanding that you are source, more things become clear. Where do all the stories of all the unfavorable problems in your life activate from? Where does the idea of good events activate from? Where is it that any form of knowing come from, you. Whether it’s about struggling with money, or about someone loving you, the story or ideas, conjure from you.

We already know that we are conciousness, but now let’s acknowledge the second mosy important part, reality begins at us, draw yourself into something that you don’t really like, something you’d like to change, now notice where it activates from.

From knowing. Knowing the idea or story is its creation

Now when we see it casually, as just another thougt about something the world is showing us we brush it off and move on with our day, until we have to face that thing, but, what if this was actually in reverse?

Because if everything is an expression of source, doesn’t that mean the world is too? It would have to be. Doesn’t that mean, anything registered by the senses has to abide by its source? And doesn’t that mean, that the world is not truly something of its own will?

The short answer is yes absolutely. And I can tell you, this is it. THIS WILL BE VERY F$&#*NG IMPORTANT.

Admitting to the idea that there is one source for everything is literally acknowledging that everything can only show up IN ACCORDANCE AND RESPECT TO WHATEVER ITS SOURCE IS.

THIS MEANS, the the world is a PROJECTION of source, IT DOES NOT STAND ALONE. It does not OPERATE ON ITS OWN.

The world is the projection of consciousness.

Following me??

Like a hologram, like a school projector QUITE LITERALLY a projection.

From us, an infinite array of stories and ideas come, and they only become activate or exist if we allow them to, if we give permission to this thing to exist.

That story that you’ve had about SP (Specific Person) or Money or Success, has always been activated by you. TELL ME WHERE ELSE IT STARTS. You can literally even prove this to yourself right now. WHERE DOES THE STORY BEGIN.

And because the world is just an expression/extension of its source (YOU) it is ONLY GOING TO BE WHAT SOURCE IS. Because it is source, just with senses and perception. It is coming face to face with what you are aware of.

The way the world shows and all of its details are projections of whatever you decide to activate. How do you activate something? BY KNOWING IT.

How do you know “red apple” ? By knowing it. That is the origin for this idea. And you can run this test for every single story you play on loop, find its source, it will always be you.

Now, for the important steps moving forward. Stop treating this like an on and off switch, truly stop caring about a feeling, stop letting yourself get so swayed out of understanding your identity as the source, do NOT give up this beautiful opprotunity just because it seems or feels different.

You’ve been taught for so long that the world has to be struggle, so that’s all you know, you’ve been told that things don’t always come easy, this is all you know, take the time, take the days and weeks you need to break out of this useless cycle of exhaustion and understand who you are as source

Do not double down on doubts, double down on the truth, regardless of how you feel, take your time to feel, take your time to be, but never allow yourself to slip back into the brainwashing of the world.

Moving forward you need to understand the world objectively, not with the ideas of wants and desire, but for what it is. Source can’t want, you turn it into desire by creating a sense of divide for yourself. You pretend the world is something to change, drop this. You pretend that the body is all you are, drop it, you pretend that there has to be more to this but knowing, DROPKICK this into the damn ground.

This all is very simple. Everything being the expression of source is only projecting what source (You) are. The world is a direct projection of conscious activity. Whatever is know is given permission to exist, it’s given life. It’s created. THIS. IS. IT.

Whether it be blue butterflies, getting a free coffee, or changing your eye color, it all is just knowing. And this isn’t something that turns off. This is reality, this is you. Start noticing the random things the world shows up as when you were just thinking about it the other day or a few hours ago. It is not a coincidence I assure you.

That friend you were thinking about calling you? Yeah.

That song you were thinking about suddenly popping up? Yeah

That “problem” you were thinking about suddenly reappearing? Yeah

It is all the same, yes it will take getting used to, but please understand me when I say this, it took me a painful amount of time and effort to finally see this as the truth, the amount of months I’ve spent isolating from content and other teachings allowed me to take ONLY personal experience, I tested it day in day out and this IS it.

Currently I expand my comfort on how seamless existing is, and I can assure you, if I can come to this conclusion, you 100% can because it has NOT been easy for me, and it almost didn’t want to accept it. But the moment I did, and kept seeing it to be true time and time again, I knew I had to go fully in.

You create the idea of wanting by doing this.

“I really want Sp to text me”

This is what you’ve given permission to exist, this is now activated, it now is conscious activity, and because the world is source projected with senses the world IS this.

You treat it like an absolute, but when it comes to something like this:

“Sp loves texting me”

You treat it as effort, and something to do and wait on. Now tell me, does that make sense? Does the idea of waiting, wanting, desiring, changing, even make sense with the knowledge you have up to this point? Nope.

You need to understand. The world is not a story, it’s projection, and it can only be projecting you. Stop turning to the world as if it can make statements, as if it’s feeding you ideas, when you’re the one activating them. You NEVER actually change the world, it’s you that activates a new idea. THATS IT. It exists because you know it. A feeling cannot stop you from knowing, the world cannot stop you from knowing, ONLY YOU can stop yourself from activating a story. A story can’t exist if it isn’t known.

So, don’t you think it’s about time you see past the illusion of wanting and see for yourself what you are?

Don’t you think it’s time, to wake up.

#blommp717 #nonduality #manifestation #manifest #non dualism #law of assumption #master manifestor #nondualism #advaita vedanta #law of attraction #loa tumblr #manifestationcoach

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isavulpix · 14 hours ago

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Eyes Don't Lie (Part 1)

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Eyes Dont Lie Materlist (Coming soon)

Part 2 | Part 3 |

Warnings: English isn't my first language so there will be mistakes, I haven't read a DC comic so the characters may be a bit OOC.

I hope yall like and enjoy it <3

isavulpix masterlist

It was one of those days in Gotham elementary school, the season flu was active, and some parents didn’t care about it. Sending their sick kids to school, it reminded you of your own school years. You weren’t the kind to get sick often, but when you did it was bad. Though, school and grades where way too important than a virus in your body.

So, you had double work, beside teaching and taking care of the kiddos, you had to make sure that the kids didn’t get to close to the sick kids. You can manage anything, from kids fighting about a toy to parents demanding their kids to have A’s. But you certainly didn’t want a full class of sick kids, the universe can’t be that cruel...

Jason’s was working on one of his bikes, his been doing this from very early in the morning. The same nightmares coming to hunt him, he learned that it was better to not fight it and just accept that he won’t be able to get drop of rest.

He cleans the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand when his stomach remembers him that he hasn’t touch food since the day before. He takes the cue and gets ready for the day, taking a hot shower and heating up an instant food that will surely taste like shit. While the food does circle in a box with small amount of radiation, he looks at his phone for the first time in the day. He first looks at the hour it was 2:37 pm, he must have lost the scene of time while in the garage. Then he looks at the notifications, emails about subscriptions he always forgets to cancel, a news of Mr. Freeze again being beat up by Batman and Robin, and some messages from his family that he decided to ignore for now. They didn’t look urgent, what he does read is the only text he has from Roy.

>> Hey dude, I’m in a last-minute mission so I need you to pick up Lian from school. She comes out at 3 pm, don’t be late…she hates it and will make you pay.

Jason smirks at the text, Lian is the only little kid he can tolerate to be more than 10 minutes around. Maybe he will take her out for ice cream to win points for the best uncle title, he was sure he will win against Dick. Jason looks at the time again and his eyes widen, its already 3:00 pm he needs to move fast. He stops the microwave and prints to the garage; he was putting on his helmet when he remembers he can drive with Lian as a passenger and decides to drive to the Manor to switch from the bike to one of the SUV.

In the car he looks again at the time and curses, its 3:30 pm, he was more than late. Lian will not let this go for the end of times, and her old ass teacher most likely will scold his ear off about it. God how he hates teachers, really any form of authority…

You sigh as you look at the time for the million time, it was 3:46 pm and Lian dad hasn’t picked her up which was rare of him. Roy harper was one of the first to pick up his little girl, you where sure that if you let him, he would stay all day here with her. You often heard bad things about him, most things you only would classify as rumors from moms that where peak in high school and crashed in reality after it. God, how you hate parents like that, it was better to drink raw eggs than to deal with them.

Taking a glance at Lian to rest your eyes from the work you were doing in the laptop you see her drawing in a piece of paper you gave her earlier, so she won’t “Die from boredom”. “That a pretty drawing your making, who are the people?” You could pin pont that the red head stick was her father, but the rest was hard to say.

“This is Uncle Dick” Lian points at the black hair guy that was in a cable…in the air? “And this is Jay” She points at the bigger guy with white in his hair and a scowl on his face. Her grandpa? Wait no, if it was, she would have said it. Oh right, you heard some moms talking about a guy called Jason, maybe they are the same person? If you remember the rumors correctly, he was the partner of her dad. Maybe Roy harper likes older men? You almost laugh at the idea, obviously your mind being exaggerating and imagining Roy with a wrinkly old man.

The door of your classroom opens, and your eyes widen, it was a guy…a handsome one…too handsome, like crafted to be one of those sculptures. He is tall pretty tall in fact, surely 6’0 or a bit more, black hair with some white stripes…wait hold on. White stripes? Like Lian drawing? THIS IS JAY? JASON? ROY PARTNER? DAMN. Roy Harper is a lucky bastard.

You watch the man don’t even glance at you and beeline to Lian. No yeah, don’t even offer a good evening and sorry for being late man. Though you can find in your heart to late it slide this once because 1. The sole presence of that msn in earth is a gift, and 2. Lian looks to be ready to bring him hell.

Jason looks at the pouting Lian and knows he isn’t wining points today, but he does have to admit that she looks cute with the uncoordinated pigtails and the pout. After promising her some ice cream for his lateness and tickling her tummy so the frown goes away he and sending her to pack and get her stuff he prepares himself to face her teacher. He turns around to face you and the words he practiced in the car got stuck in his throat. You aren’t an old hag, not even close. Since when teachers are hot? In his time teachers were ugly.

But you? YOU ARE DIVINE, GORGEUS, like one of those people authors take reference to describe their protagonist. Wait...what’s happening to him? Is this some kind of spell? He can’t be thinking like this, well he can but this is Lian teacher he can’t…but then you smile at him, and he is goner. Fuck, pretty face and pretty smile, a killer combo.

You smile at the man feeling a bit awkward since he is just looking at you with a scowl in his face. Don’t tell me he is the time of parent that jokes that the time of the school ending should be 4: 00 pm or you will lose it.

Jaason finally arrives back to earth and clears his throat. “Uh sorry about the time..got stuck in traffic…” He looks at your eyes and something feels weird, not bad…but a sensation he can’t describe almost like his body…turning less tense?

You know the man is lying, the reason why pick up for the smaller kids is at 2:00 pm is to avoid traffic. “Don’t worry, I stay after hours anyways.” Usually, you would have been stricter about it, but for some reason you let it slide.

Jason thinks that teachers aren’t that bad after all, or maybe it only applies to you. Teachers like you where quite rare, he remembers that one of his English teachers where out of the school before the kids. He hopes you get paid well, maybe he can get Tim to hack Gotham’s School Bank account and raise your pay… “Thank, and sorry again. I um, my name is Jason” He offers his hand at you, and you shake it.

How soft. How rough.

He and Lian say your goodbyes and leave the cozy classroom, Lian talking his ear off about what she did that day, but he finds himself looking back at you and notices that something changed in your eyes...they seem less shining? Maybe he is finally presenting dementia.

Jason takes Lian to the nearest Carvel and lets her decide on her ice cream if she won’t tell Roy about his tardiness. He doesn’t want to get his picking-her-up privileges revoked…So, now he eats some brownie ice cream while Lian talks about random things like how your favorite color changes often because you like all of them. Thing that he found peculiar but cute.

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quinloki · 1 day ago

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Unhinged horny thoughts? I gotchu

Thinking of tying up ace and using how you want and he - A. Can easily burn through the ropes and take control and is humoring you or - B. Is completely at your mercy, the only thing that could save him is his pretty begging.

Or riding thatch with a mirror behind you, he’s able to see everything (bonus points if he’s handcuffed)(or marine reader)

-💧

Maybe not unhinged but certainly horny >=<

Ace getting so lost in the sauce he doesn't even think about burning away the ropes. The struggle is sweet, and the feel of the ropes against his skin is going straight to his cock.

And he trusts you, gods and seas he trusts you, and the way your cool fingers move against his hot skin, the way he sucks in a breath when you finger slips just under the line of his belt. You haven't even started teasing him properly and he's already whining.

The way you can just force him to look at you, hand buried in his hair, while you stroke him from beneath his shorts. He's going to make a mess, but he doesn't care, and the

✨Sound He Makes✨

when you stop before he can finish. The rush and concern as you edge him, the way his feet try to find purchase so he can buck up into your hand. How pretty he looks, sobbing and begging and just let him cum, and he still hasn't burned the ropes away. You tell him to be a good boy for you, he can right? He can endure, your sweet good boy can do that for you, and fuck he's putty in your hands.

You can kiss away those tears and pull his shorts out of the way before you give him sweet release, again and again and again until he's sticky and sweaty and shivering and he wants to beg you to stop, but fuck it feels so good, and every time you tell him he's a good boy he thinks he's going to cum so hard he'll just pass out. But the sweet taste of your lips against his, devouring the panting whimpers from his tongue and

ahem.

#quin answers #x reader #reader insert #portgas d ace #mdni #come be unhinged in my askbox #anon asks #💧

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awordsmith · 12 hours ago

Text

drowning on the edge 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in an attempt to help each other move on from the death of your previous lovers, you and Spencer unknowingly form an unhealthy relationship.

who? spencer x unknown!reader when? s8 category: angst content warnings: (was suppose to be angst to fluff lol) happy–open–ending (kind of), loss of a significant other, maeve!spencer, heartbreak, therapy-cemetary-funeral-depression-anxiety mentions, friendship breaking, slight dissociation, toxic relationship, i urge you, cara, to reid with care... word count: 12.1k a/n: i was going to add reader suicide attempt, but i lowkey forgot to look at my notes while writing and well, i don't want to mess with this because i love it too much, so maybe i'll attempt it later lol enjoy cari...

In the shadowed corner of a midnight room, emotions overpowered the scent of a candle burning. You lay across your bed, tear-stricken and zombie-like. The day’s events replayed in your mind, though your thoughts seemed to only care about recalling one scene. One that would no doubt haunt you for the rest of your life. You couldn’t eat or sleep–when you closed your eyes he was there. You didn’t have an ounce of peace.

How was it fair? You kept asking yourself. You couldn’t be thankful for the lives saved because it took his. You tried and said you were, but it wasn’t how you truthfully felt. You flipped onto your side as M—, your friend came into the room. “Hey…” she whispered, hanging on the door, “you okay?”

You bit your lip, though it trembled and your face scrunched up. You didn’t want to cry in front of her. You didn’t want anyone to see you like this, but how were you supposed to say that when you hadn’t said one word to anyone since the news had reached you?

“Okay…” you could hear her frown, “your parents should be here by tomorrow…” she took another breath as if she was going to elaborate, but paused and thought she ought not to. “I’ll be in the living room if you…if you need anything.”

You stared at the wall, clutching the picture frame in your hand tighter–oh you should have hugged him like that this morning! And why the bleeding hell didn’t you? Why? Why? You–you should of–if you had known–your silent screams filled the room–if I had just known, you thought, your body shaking with the pain of understanding he was gone, and there was absolutely nothing you could do to bring him back.

To touch him, to hug him, to breathe him in just one last time–to tell him you loved him. You couldn’t move, once you’d found your bed a few hours ago, your body seemed to deflate. There were so many things you had to do, had to cancel–so many things–just–so many–and oh, your brain hurt. Your head was throbbing and you tried massaging it and oh gosh why did this happen? Why? Why couldn’t you have just had a day like any other? One where he picked up a snack for you on the way to your apartment? One where he made it through the first few hours of work?

Being a firefighter–yes, you knew–was a dangerous job–but you didn’t think it would get him freaking killed–

Your face scrunched together and a new wave of wails escaped your throat and you were shoving your head under a pillow, trying to un-hear the words–trying to reverse time. You weren’t a superhero, but maybe, if you prayed hard enough, one would swoop in and rescue you from the torturous reality that was now your life.

You didn’t care what they looked like or what powers they had, “please, God,” you begged, “please don’t make me go through this again. I can’t–I wouldn’t be able to take it.”

In the other room, M— found herself in a daze. She was trying to do her best for you, but she was grieving in her own way. She’d known your fiancé, L—, she’d grown accustomed to him in the last few months you’d brought him around, he wasn’t perfect, but no one was. He smoked; she didn’t like smoking, but you didn’t mind it and he did his best to hide it from her, so she didn’t mind it too much either.

And now–now L— was gone. She wasn’t a wreck like you, but she felt the weight of everything else. You were her soul sister. Everything you felt she felt tenfold because she didn’t know what to do and she was questioning everything in her right mind. If things like this could happen to you and L—, what was to say it couldn’t happen to her? It was like a slap in the face, a wake-up call. M— could barely function with the information, she couldn’t imagine what you must be going through.

She slept over that night and you awoke to the smell of breakfast. Your stomach rumbled and the scent wafted through the apartment, but your mind wasn’t hungry, and just the idea of eating made you want to throw up. Your lips smacked and you knew you needed water. You forced yourself out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

The curtains were pulled shut in the den, your nose guided you into the kitchen where dim lighting highlighted M—’s figure. “Hey,” she smiled upon seeing you. You noted the bags under her eyes and thought–by the expression on her face–could see similar ones under yours.

You didn’t say anything, you didn’t feel like you had anything of importance to say–so why waste the time? Your stomach gurgled again, but you ignored it and headed for the fridge.

“Look, —, I have some errands to run so I’ll be gone for a few hours…” you pressed your lips into a thin line, unscrewing the lid on the bottle of water. “...will you be okay by yourself? I can call someone,” she jabbed her thumb in her phone's direction on the counter near the microwave. “You know what–yeah, I–I’ll do that.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” your icy tone and narrowed eyes were not at all how you’d intended to respond, but you couldn’t control it. You felt it best to keep everything to yourself, that way you didn’t say or do things you didn't mean. M— watched you avert your eyes, your hands lowering the bottled water and cap, “...sorry…”

She sighed, her shoulders relaxing a bit, “Don’t be, I know you didn’t mean it like that.” Your lips pressed into the thin line from before as you watched her fix a plate for you and set it on the counter, “I’m going to clean up and head out.” You nodded, and sat down, staring at the plate. You were still in your clothes from yesterday, so perhaps you should get in the shower…you just...didn’t have the energy right now. Later, you thought, I’ll do it.

“Alright, you sure you’ll be alright?” M— frowned at your nod, “Call me if you need anything and please–if not for you, for me, eat.”

Again, you nodded, but it felt forced. Maybe, you told yourself, definitely.

You put the plate in the fridge and in the fridge is where it stayed the rest of that day.

Spencer sat in Maeve’s blood, he knew there were others around–knew that there should be sound he was hearing right about now–screaming, maybe shrieking?–but every function he’d developed throughout all his years of living seemed to evade him now. All he knew was pain–the throbbing in his head, the pounding in his chest. Someone was trying to pull him away–and just like that anger overtook him. He was aggressive–Spencer was seldom angry–the term was in his brain to be sure, but it was never used to describe him.

Why? Why? He brought his hands to his ears, closing his eyes as if it’d all go away–he just wanted everything to go away–why couldn’t everyone go away? His broken screams drowned out any sense of the world around him as paramedics hauled Maeve off somehwere–not, not Maeve–her b–her body.

Spencer woke up in his work clothes, he was in his bed and the curtains were drawn. He groaned and ran a hand down his face, his heart stopped–before the memories of the day before rushed through his mind, he thought he might have done something stupid–like take Dilaudid again. He shuddered and shot upward.

That’s when it hit him, he gripped the edge of his bed and grabbed a fist full of his hair. He was sweaty, his head ached, and he couldn’t focus his mind on any singular thought; his vision was clouded and verything around him wasg grey.

He didn’t even think of it, he just knew. Maeve was gone. She wasn’t on a beach somewhere in Malibu or on a cruise going around the golf of Mexico, she wasn’t ever going to text or call him back–he would never hear her voice again–never get to hug her–to touch her.

She was there, and then she wasn’t. He felt his entire world come crumbling around him as the actualization of what had happened struck him. Swallowing, he felt a thickness in his throat. He couldn’t remember what happened after Maeve was taken away–he must have blacked out. He slid back under his blankers and pulled them over his head. He felt tear after tear pool in the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t have the energy to wipe them.

He didn’t have the energy to do anything. He closed his eyes, his heart clenching as he saw Maeve, standing, then shot, and on the floor–he forced his eyes open, not wanting to see what happened next. He wanted to give up on sleeping, but he couldn’t move. What could he do? For all he cared he could die right here and now and he wouldn’t think twice about the consequences.

The ringing of his phone cut through the silence that had come over his tiny space under the covers, it was Penelope, he ignored it and turned the screen back off. A knock sounded down the hall of his bedroom, someone was at the front door. He didn’t want to open it, it was probably one of the other team members. A text notification convinced him to click the phone on again.

It was Penelope, again.

She was leaving a basket for him at the door. He didn’t care and he didn’t feel bad for it. He wasn’t going to answer the door, he wasn’t going to do anything for a while. He just wanted to sit with his–everything.

And sit did he, for the next week he didn’t leave his apartment, but he didn’t sleep either. He barely ate and when he did, he couldn’t bring himself to clean up. He kept reading the quote she’d left in the book she’d gifted him. He was going to give her the same book, The Narrative of John Smith. It wasn’t mathematical or anticlimactic like the genres he typically preferred, but it was a genre Maeve liked and through her, he’d grown a love for fictional mystery literature.

Though they’d discussed the book, Spencer had not yet read it, and neither had Maeve, which is why he’d wanted to give it to her upond there first in person meeting. It would have been sentimental and she would have loved it–Spencer just knew she would have.

He cried. He didn’t wail or whimper, he simply cried. Tears streamed down his face for what could have been, and in a desperate need to blame someone he could still sort of speak to, he latched onto one of the most well-known deities across the world.

He cursed God, then he asked God why, and though he was certain there was no one listening, he pleaded with God; he pleaded for another chance.

If there was even a smidgen of a possibility that Spencer could ever be happy again, he’d put his trust in the almighty being, because logic would not help him this time around, he needed to have some other realm of force backing him because this type of pain–this type of pain was something only faith could mend.

A week went by, then two, and Spencer got a call from Morgan. He’d ignored everyone and had let the messages go to voicemail and in turn, build up–until Morgan called with a question–not about him, but about the case they were currently working on, and so, in an attempt to subtlety clue everyone in on the fact that he wasn’t dead, he called back.

Of course, Penelope butted in and asked if he was alright and at this time he didn’t know, he couldn’t decide if he was dying from some internal wound he didn’t know about or if it was simply a ghostly feeling.

“I have to go,” was his response, then he hung up and as he did so, the urge to take a shower overwhelmed him. He felt cleaner, but not better. He’d run out of mugs and he didn’t want to wash a single one. Instead, he threw on a hoodie and a pair of sweats and headed for his door.

He smelled better than he’d gotten used to, though his apartment covered up the fresh smell with one of mildew. He opened his door hesitantly, and a few seconds later he was shoving Penelope’s baskets out of the way, disregarding the thought to haul them inside before leaving. He wanted to get coffee, he had to get coffee, he didn’t know why, but this was the strongest urge to do something he’d felt in a while. It was both calming and tiring, he wanted to go back inside, but he was stubborn and determined. He wanted to prove something, maybe to the team, maybe to himself. He felt if he did this, this one thing, he’d be able to do anything and everything again. He’d regain control over himself.

So, Spencer stepped into the elevator, listing off what he wanted in his coffee order as each minute ticked by.

You were given time off, but it seemed like all the time in the world wouldn’t be enough to accept what you had to. Getting up and moving wasn’t the hardest part, it was the acting–acting like you weren’t still in a war with yourself, fighting for every second you didn’t break down, taking it day by day.

Your black mary jane’s clicked on the sidewalk as you rushed toward your regular coffee shop, you were already running late to your appointment, but if you didn’t have this coffee, you didn’t know if you coud get through the day. You’d begun doing your makeup again upon your mother’s pestering and M—’s nagging. You wondered if L— could see you, what would he say if he could? Would he judge you for the coffin you were about to pick out? For being late to such a significant meeting for a single cup of coffee?

No, no he wasn’t like that. He had never been like that…

A shuddering breath escaped you as you blinked back tears. You hadn’t been able to go one day without crying and though you barely slept–each time you did you cried yourself to the brink of splitting your head open before the dratted dreams came.

It was always him, always that morning–always ‘what could have been’ if you’d only made him late that morning. Had something gone wrong with your toaster or coffee pot. Had you kissed him just a bit longer so that he wasn’t on duty when his station got that call–so that he wouldn’t lose himself in the fire trying to make sure everyone else got out.

His face was always blurred, you thought it was due to your grief and the fact that your mind simply could not put you through that for fear of altering your brain permanently. That was just your guess, though.

The sound of your steps dislocated every other sound on the street. It was around eight, the meeting started at eight thirty, you had less than 20 minutes to order, pay, and get to your destination on time. “Oh,” your shoulder collided with a strangers. “I–I’m so sorry,” your voice cracked and you had to take a moment to control it before turning to meet the other’s gaze. “I really–” you cut yourself off, noting the dead gleam in his eyes.

It was like he wasn’t there at all, like he was over the day or the world, or both. It had only been for a second, then he was blinking and apologizing, trying to assess the situation.

“I–I am so sorry,” you repeated, reaching out, wiping his brown sweater vest–now drenched in coffee–off, like it’d do something.

“It’s alright, you’re just spreading it.” He stepped back and held up a hand.

You nodded, pulling your hand back, frowning at the mess and inconvenience you’d cause this poor man, “I truly am sorry, I–is it expensive? I’ll buy you–” you paused, with the cost of the every cancelation fee from vendors, the wedding planner, the makeup artist, the venue, and the funeral that you now had to plan, you had to start considering your budget.

“It’s fine, don’t cry,” he shifted, looking uncomfortable. You gasped, though it was low and not worth commenting on.

Swiping at the tears streaking down your cheek, you whispered, “sorry, I tell myself I’m not going to cry and then I just–” you shook your head, you were mostly talking to yourself, but you heard how odd it might have sounded to him.

He uncrossed his satchel and shrugged the sweater vest off with one arm. “It’ll be fine if I take it to the dry cleaners,” you cringed–so it was expensive–dry-cleaner expensive.

“Let me buy you another coffee, I can at least do that,” you figited with your sleeves, the man noticed.

His eyes tracked up to yours, searching your person, but for what you couldn’t say, maybe he saw in you what you saw in him, maybe that’s why he agreed, maybe you were just trying to make yourself feel better, pretending you weren’t the only person in the world grasping onto every shred of anything that made you feel some semblance of sane.

He was quiet, you shared no diologue after your offer. He nodded and followed you inside. You weren’t nervous, you didn’t know why you thought you should be. You figited with your sleeves as you stood in line. You ordered first and waited for him. His order wasn’t one you’d expect from someone who looked like him–or rather dressed like him. You expected pure black espresso, maybe a few dashes of sugar, certainly not a latte with extra sugar. You shook your head, filing the thought away.

You swiped your card and followed Spencer, taking up a small barstool table with two seats in the corner of the shop. You crossed your arms, folding in on yourself as if you were trying to become as small as possible. Spencer noticed this too, but couldn’t find it in himself to really care, though as he thought this, he was already trying to determine is you had anxiety or if you were just having a bad day.

He cursed the profiler in his brain, wishing it’d listent to him just once. You figited, but he discarded anxiety upon recalling your brash reaction to spilling coffee over him, so then it must be something else, he thought, frustrated that he’d gone down a rabbit hole and now he had to know the source of your agiation. Even still, he didn’t want to ask you: a) he didn’t want to be rude, b) he didn’t care enough to ask, and c) it’d be too easy.

It’s something, at least for the time being, he considered, to take my mind off of everything else going wrong in my life. The barista called your name and you stood. Damn, Spencer faultered, what now? He couldn’t let you go without knowing, it’d bug him too much, though a part of him wanted it to bug him. It’d be considerably easier to fall asleep thinking about what was wrong with the stranger he’d met at the coffee shop than about anything to do with Maeve. He could barely get through saying her name and still–every time he thought it, bile built in the back of his throat and anger coursed through him–then right after, he’d want to crawl into a ball and waste away.

“What happened?” He cursed himself, why would he just outright ask you that? Why couldn’t he act normal?

“What?” You raised a brow, handing him his sickeningly sweet beverage.

He took it from you, shaking his head, “no–nothing, nevermind.”

You frowned, averting your eyes to the floor, the bustle of the shop turning tranquil, “if I tell you you have to tell me.”

“Huh?” He heard himself say before thinking. His eyes widened slightly as he thought of an answer, though it wasn’t long before he said, “Okay.”

But you couldn’t sit with him now, you had somewhere to be, just as he did. You parted ways after you’d exchanged numbers. “I’m Spencer…by the way…”

You acknowledged it but found it strange, he didn’t look like a ‘Spencer’, then he held out his hand for an awkward handshake and you nodded, yeah, that’s something a Spencer would do. “—,” you hesitated only an instant before allowing his hand to tangle into yours. They were warm–his hands–despite the weather, and you thought he smelled nice. Like applecrisps…

…

It wasn’t that Spencer was looking forward to his meeting with you, but it allowed some normality to enter his life again. He’d met you two days after he’d gone back to work, three days of powering through, and just when he thought he might not be cut out for working in the BAU anymore, just when he’d felt all was lost, you spilled his coffee all over him. His own coffee on top of that.

He’d been looking at different job listings when he’d bumped into you, so it was not entirely your fault. “What’s up, Pretty Boy?” Morgan approached his desk, pushing some things aside to sit atop it.

“What do you mean what’s up–nothing’s up.” Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Morgan sighed, “Fine, I won’t push, but I’m here if you need me, you know that, kid.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, pushing Morgan off his desk and reorganizing his things, “While I appreciate the ten-hundredth notice and gesture, I don’t appreciate being called ‘kid’.”

Morgan huffed and uncrossed his arms, “Whatever you say,” he began walking away, but turned his head back and murmured, “kid.”

Morgan noted a small smile dawning on Spencer’s face while he simultaneously shook his head.

The ceremony was tough, you and L—’s parents decided on a closed casket because of the burn marks. He didn’t even look like your L— anymore and seeing him–even with heavy amounts of makeup–would break you, and you’d been getting better–well, you were opening up in therapy now, and instead of starting out the window, fidgeting with your sleeves and pushing your hair out of your face, you occasionally glanced around the room–it was dull but homey in its own right.

You hadn’t mentioned Coffee Guy to anyone, though it was partially because you doubted he’d even text you, and you weren’t obsessing over texting him either. It might have just been a curiosity thing, you didn’t want to think about it much–thinking still hurt your head.

You were taking aspirin at least three times a day–ibuprofen if you were having an extra awful day. You had just grabbed the bottle of pills from the bathroom and walked to the kitchen when your phone pinged. You sighed and glanced at your phone. It was Spencer.

You set the bottle down and took up residence in one of the stools at the bar table. You read over the text a few times before remembering you had to reply. Yeah that works for me, see you then. You sent the message, your chest aching with a nostalgia, this would be the first time you went out alone, or at least with someone who hadn’t known you before L—’s death–someone who instead of babysitting would be living with you. Well, if you could consider grabbing coffee ‘living’. But it was more than you’d had in the past month.

He wouldn’t give you sympathetic eyes because he had no idea he was supposed to; because you wouldn’t tell him, but then you’d recalled the question you’d asked him, the agreement you’d made, and your heart sank.

For a moment, you mind wandered to thoughts of why he’d looked so angry that day–no it wasn’t anger. It was like…helplessness. That was the only way you knew how to describe it. But why? You asked yourself, a pang–sharp and squeezing–shot through your head. You huffed and dropped your phone onto the couture, gripping your temples, debating on what to say or do should he follow through with the promise.

You rubbed circles into the sides of your forehead until you felt you could let go, and soon after, you swallowed a pill.

Three days passed, it was Saturday, the day in which you were meeting Spencer. You didn’t know why you kept it a secret still, but you did, and heading out alone took a bit of convincing. “I’ll be an hour tops–I’m fine,” you huffed, crossing your arms when you saw M— narrow her eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“For the fifth time,” you frowned, holding up a hand, “I. Am. Fine.”

She nodded, running a hand down her face, “Okay, but…text me or respond–I’ll text, okay?”

You took in a breath, “Look, M—, I appreciate you worrying, but if I ever want to live a normal life again, I need to start leaving the house by myself.” You didn’t want to be mean, you knew she meant well, but at the same time–you were not a child and you couldn’t depend on her forever. More than needing to start doing things independently again, you wanted to reclaim being your own person–not one that was overshadowed by the things you’d gone through or the things you’d gotten over. Just–you–you and your persistent actions, you and your obsessive hobbies, you and your favorite things. Talking to new people–to strangers, you thought, might just be the first step toward reaching your goal.

Though the afternoon sun was still out, wind swept past your face as you crossed the street. You bit the inside of your cheek, wincing at the bell that rang, alerting the people inside to your presence. You glanced around, but couldn’t find him.

A few people left just as you decided to take a seat. There were two barista’s but one had moved to the back, now you were left with the quiet ambience of classical jazz and a few fellow customers. You thought about texting him but then shoved the idea away as soon as it popped into your head. You did not want to seem as desperate as you were feeling, so you set your purse down and made yourself as comfortable as you could be in this situation.

A few minutes went by with you scrolling your phone, Spencer had noticed you the moment before you’d opened the door and stepped inside. He’d been waiting for you, but a part of him had doubted you’d show. He didn’t know why he didn’t simply wait a few minutes before leaving, actuallyno, he did. Spencer despised being late, so instead of going agains his personal morals, he’d taken up residence in the very back corner of the coffeehouse at the high table, using a newspaper to cover his face as he cataloged every patron that wasn’t you.

He was just about to stand and call it a day, seemingly have been right about you standing him up, when he noted you.

Spencer couldn’t pinpoint what exactly had caught his attention first, just the fact that your presence seemed to draw him in was enough. He watched you for a few moments. You were fidgeting with your hands as you often did when you were uncofortable. You were scared he wasn’t going to show, it should’ve been a horrible thought, but Spencer cracked a small smile–which is when his phone pinged with a message.

So wrapped up in his thoughts, that he didn’t pick up on your texting. Just got here, it read. It widened his smile, and so he stood and made his way toward you, dumping the newspaper on the table. “Hey, sorry to keep you waiting.”

Your breath caught and your eyes widened, if he didn't know any better he’d think you saw a ghost or something of the sort–maybe a poltergeist? He shook his head, “Don’t be, I got here a few moments ago.” He nodded, accepting the obvious lie–but who was he to talk? He’d hid behind a newspaper in a corner because he was afraid you weren't going to show. He’d gotten here before you. How lame is that?

“Have you ordered yet?” He switched the conversation, disregarding his satchel on the chair across from you.

“No, I was waiting for you.”

“Well, did you want something? It’s on me–since you bought last time.”

“Yeah, but last time I spilled your coffee, so it wouldn’t be fair would it?” He raised a brow at your sudden confidence and cracked a smile.

“I suppose not, but I wouldn’t mind.”

You hesitated a moment, then nodded, “Okay,” you weren’t as stupid as to turn down free coffee a second time.

Spencer stood and headed for the counter, the barista that had gone off to the back now returned, you followed him, your movements slow and careful. You mumbled your order, neglecting to hold back on your extra ristretto shot, and instead came forward with your entire order. Spencer didn’t say anything to stop you, but perhaps he was just being nice.

Upon sitting back down, Spencer took to gazing out the window. You registered the way the grayed sunlight outlined his features, defining his side profile. The side that wasn’t hidden in white, you analyzed. His eyebags had depleted a little since the first you saw him, you wondered if yours had as well. Almost unconsciously, you lifted a hand to the bridged of your nose and traced it down to the corner of your eye.

Spencer glanced at you, shifting so that he was leaning on his arms that were splayed out in front of him. “What’s your favorite type of weather?” You sighed, fiddling with your fingers under the table as you passed over the question in your head, “you seem like a gloomy person.”

You raised a brow, “is that projection?”

He shrugged, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips and despite your offended response, your expression micked his. “You don’t really hold back, do you?”

You huffed a laugh, covering your mouth with one of your hands. Spencer watched you, wondering what had you looking the way you did when you’d first met him; wondering why–despite the casual visage–your eyes had rivaled his in hopelessness. “So, do you?”

“Do I what?” You calmed your racing heart.

His face scrunched together a moment, but his smile didn’t falter, “do you like gloomy weather?”

A heavy sigh left your throat and you turned to watch the wind pick up outside again, tugging everything south. Your eyes landed on a church bell in the near distance, you drafted it in your head, “As of lately, that seems to be the case.” He wanted to comment on it, to ask what you meant by it, but you spoke first, “and you? Do you prefer gloomy weather, you sure look like you do.”

He scoffed, his eyes twinkling with something both sad and lovely, “Yes, I’ve always preferred Autumn.”

“Any specific reason?” You titled your head, trying to find any topic to latch onto so that the conversation didn’t go dry.

“Not really,” he shrugged, “I mean, I love Halloween, but that’s about it.”

“Really? Nothing else?”

“Well,” he started–but was distracted by the bell that rang. The barista called his name and he pushed his chair back. You were in the middle of standing when he turned around and held out a hand, “don’t worry, I got it.” You wavered only a second before sitting back down.

Alone with your mind–the atmosphere drowning out every other insignificant noise–you took a breath. You were doing this, you told yourself you could–and you didn’t know him all that well yet, but you had a feeling Spencer–the Coffee Shop Guy had entered your life for a reason, whether it was to stray your mind from the pain of losing L— or to help bring him to the forefront of your mind, you weren’t sure. But he was nice and he didn’t ask even though you’d seen the question in his eyes. You wondered if you small prayer had been answered, perhaps he wouldn’t ask at all, perhaps, you could live in a world with him where neither of you spoke of the things that pained you.

You could ask him, as he’d stated earlier, you were bold, but wouldn’t that be childish? Though, for some reason, you had the idea that Spencer wouldn’t really mind it.

As he approached the table again, setting your cup down in front of you before taking up his seat again, you wondered if maybe he wasn’t asking because he didn’t want you to ask, because you didn’t need to, because he didn’t want to talk about his demons either–and with that, you thought maybe you were more alike than first glance would have left you to believe.

It was almost like a new agreement had been made, voiceless and silent, but as loud as the speed of rivers–and as your quiet afternoon coffee dates increased–begining with one every other week to one every Saturday–so did your need to be near each other.

It was a safe place, one you both kept from your normal life. When you were together it felt like you were in your own little universe. One where L— didn’t exist and spencer had never met Maeve. You weren’t dating, but you weren’t not intimate. I was better than dating. Dating required labling and labling ensured one person if not both would eventually get hurt–physically or mentally, or both. What you had now, it was more of a fantasy.

One in which you could both pretend things were alright in the world even if you both felt like you were at the edge it. Where one was sumberging, the other was sinking–but both were pulling each other to the bottom, drowning one another in falsehood.

A month had disappeared right before your eyes, your casual, Saturday coffee dates had turned into texting each other good mornings and goodnights, and then the texting in the middle of the day started when you’d sent him a message, it was small, a simple good luck today!

But he’d replied within seconds, thanks, you too :).

Something was wrong, you could feel yourself straying. You hadn’t mentioned Spencer to anyone, for all they knew: you stayed home Saturdays. You were sure Spencer had kept you a secret from his everyday life as well–and though neither of you spoke much about your personal lives, it didn’t harm your relationship in the slightest. It was the fear–you were sure–that speaking about something the other wasn’t a part of would break the illusion you’d created together, so you kept away from the topic, pretending like you knew what was going on while most of the time you had less than when either of you clocked in.

You could feel the logical part of your brain telling you what you were doing wasn’t normal, but you thought if you could just keep them separate–it wouldn’t hurt anyone. You’d grown attached to Spencer, you wanted to keep him all to yourself, he was your secret and yours alone. You didn’t want to hear about the people who got to see him every day, the people who got to interact with him at work or when he went home–you didn��t want to know just how much you were sharing.

It was small things at first, like forgetting you’d made plans with M— or work friends, canceling on them last minute in favor of staying home and texting Spencer. The first time he’d called you it was late, around 3 am because he couldn’t sleep–he’d said–and upon seeing his name slide across your phone for the first time as a call, you found you weren’t that tired anymore either.

Your room was dark, almost two months had gone by, you’d stopped keeping track of the days, honestly, only aware of it for events at work, but barely. M— still came around sometimes, checking up on how you were doing, but you’d stopped replying to her messages so much that they’d built up, and when you did respond, it was, thanks, I’m fine, and then you were dead for a few days more until she heard back from you again or came knocking on your door without warning.

The few times she’d stopped by unannounced, it hadn’t been too bad, but on two specific occasions, you’d let a few choice words slip up. She was worried about you, she’d told your parents–and they had called you to make sure you were alright, asking if you’d wanted them to come back down–of course you said no, why would you? You were an adult, you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself.

You were going to therapy and you hadn’t called into work once since you’d been back. And besides all that, you had Spencer. It wasn’t like you were alone–even when you physically were, Spencer was a simple text away, and he always responded within the first few minutes.

“Are you there?” Spencer pulled you from your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you smiled into the phone, switching your bedside lamp on, you shifted your body upward and pulled your knees to your chest as you leaned against your bed’s headboard. “Yeah, Spencer, I’m here, what’s going on?” You were giddy with feeling, you had never spoken over the phone with him–this was new territory altogether. You were terrified of the excitement it enlisted within you.

“I–I can’t sleep.” He huffed, his voice groggy with yearning.

You frowned, “are you an insomniac?”

A low chuckle came from the other side of the line, “blunt as always.”

“It’s my best quality,” you chirped, your voice croaky as you fought the urge to yawn.

“Did I wake you up?–I woke you up didn’t I–I’m sorry–I’ll–”

“Don’t,” you shook your hand, though you knew he couldn’t see it, and rubbed your eyes, giving into the yawn, “I’m always here, Spencer.”

“Yeah, but… we don’t…do this,” by this, he could mean a million different things. You didn’t call; you didn’t call at night–certainly not this late; you didn’t wake each other from slumber; you didn’t say things like you were saying now; you didn’t talk about your struggles or issues; you just–you talked about the good things. It was like catfishing in real life, only you were catfishing your lives and you both had been completely aware of it from the beginning.

But maybe you could.

Maybe…, “it–it’s fine…” you spoke softly, attempting to sound casual, but your voice wavered slightly as if you had no idea what you were doing, and maybe you didn’t–but maybe…

Spencer caught your hesitation–and he should have cared–he should have changed his mind, he should have hung up right there. But he didn’. And now here he was, spilling his guts to his…whatever you were.

He didn’t know if he could call you a friend, he didn’t know if what you were could even be considered friendliness–it was more or less a mutual…a mutual bonding? He didn’t know, when you were together it felt like you were more–like you could be more–but then there was Maeve in the back of his head, and he knew–he knew you had your own affairs.

He kept Mave to himself, but he divulged everything else. He was giving his most personal self away and he wouldn’t know if it was a mistake until after he did it. It was a chance he was willing to take because–well…what the hell else was there left? Maeve was gone and he was okay with pretending he was fine with it, that he was fine with moving on, but he couldn’t lie to himself. She took up every corner of his mind, he still carried her damn book with him. He knew it was an issue–his therapist had recommended shelving the literary work–but he just couldn’t. He couldn’t shelve her away like a book he’d never read again.

“I’m fine.” The shattering of a plate sounded throughout your kitchen. M— flinched, “I–” you huffed, averting your eyes.

“You’re sorry, I know,” M— narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “Look(—what is going on with you? I know–” she held up a hand, “you keep saying nothing, but it sure as hell doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“Yeah, well that’s not really any of your business, is it?” you scowled, grabbing the broom to sweep up the mess you’d made.

“Here,” M— sighed, seeping forward and holding out her arm, “let me do that.”

You stared at her for a long second, assessing her. She jerked her hand, motioning for the broom. You rolled your eyes and placed it in her open palm.

“All I’m saying,” she began, her voice softer this time, “is that I miss you…I know L— misses you too.”

“L— is dead.” Your voice sliced through the tension like an avalanche coming down after waiting dormant for years.

“—…” M— mumbled, tilting the dustpan into a bag. When she finished she connected the pan to the pole and set it against your mop. She leaned on the counter near where you were, corning you in your own kitchen, “You haven’t visited his grave since the funeral… Not once.”

You turned away, unable to hold her stare any longer. Tears pooled in your eyes as you let the words slip from your throat, “I’m not ready.”

“Oh sweety…” she came up around you and pulled your hands before her, “I…I don’t think you’ll ever be ready. But I’m here, L—’s parents are here if you want I can call your mom, your father?”

You shook your head, “no–I–” you resolved, “I’m fine.” You met her gaze, “I swear it.”

She frowned, you could tell she didn’t believe you, but you couldn’t find it in you to tell her the truth–you couldn’t even admit to the truth yourself because, in all honesty, you didn’t know what the truth was. You knew Spencer had something to do with it, but you were ignorant of just how big of an impact he had.

“You’re still planning to move out, right? I can help you start looking at listings again.” You cringed and tried not to roll your eyes as you braced your arms against the counter near the stove.

“I… I don’t know just yet.”

“You don’t know?” M— almost scoffed, turning away, “See, this is what I’m talking about–you were so set on moving two months ago–what–what happened?”

You shrugged, trying to deflect from her piercing gaze, “I–I just haven’t had time.”

“Haven’t had time?” M— shook her head, distaste curling on her lip, “—, you’re a bad liar, you always have been.” She sighed, running a hand over their face, “I… I know you might be coping in your way, but I don’t think it’d be healthy to–

“–Oh and suddenly you’re an expert on everything now?”

M— paused, taking a step back, “Are you being serious right now?” Your face contorted into a sneer, leading to M— nodding, “Alright, well maybe I should just leave…” You kept quiet and your head down as she began walking away. She hesitated, you saw her jerk her movements a split second before making up her mind and continuing toward the front door.

Your heart was breaking in your chest as you heard her feet shuffle away from you. When was the last time you’d fought like this? When was the last time you shoved each other away? But it wasn’t really her fault, was it? You were to blame for this–this was your doing–your responsibility. And why were you in this situation in the first place? Why couldn’t you run to her, let her pull you in her arms, and week on her shoulder?

You knew the answer, but you didn’t know why the answer was what it was. You didn’t want to voice it either–you wanted to indulge in being with him, you wanted to indulge in continuing your relationship for better or for worse, you didn’t care. But it was for worse, and you knew this and upon the few conversations over the phone you had with him in the days passing, you knew he knew it too–and eventually, you began calling out of work, you began to hide away from the world, obsessed with one thing and only one thing: Spencer.

Spencer was there and then he wasn’t. He faded in and out of consciousness during the day, he’d barely be any help to the cases at present. To him, it seemed like he had no reason to be at work, and just like that, the progress he had made the past two months caught the first train to regression.

Morgan and Blake were there, Penelope too–checking up on him regularly, but he couldn’t very well tell them what was going on–what he was feeling because they’d think he’d gone crazy. But maybe he had always been crazy–he’d never thought too long about it, but what if he was a psychopath? Just one with controlled impulses? Though he never had thoughts of gutting anyone or how their head would look like on a stick–he now had this obsession–one like none he’d ever dealt with. It was almost compulsive with how he checked his phone every few seconds, ensuring he hadn’t missed a message from you.

His heart ached when he found you hadn’t, but when you did–oh that was a rush he could not explain. He didn’t feel like he should have to, either. You just got him–he ignored Maeve’s gaze on him. She was with him more often now, she wouldn’t leave him alone, it was torture worse than he’d ever been through–worse than death–worse than Tobias.

His brain couldn’t process that Maeve was a ghost, that what he was seeing wasn’t real because she was in the back of his mind–all. The. Time. He couldn’t tell what was rality and what was fiction–not with you, not with Maeve. He didn’t know how he put you in the same league as her, deep down he knew no one could ever even hope to compare.

But you–there was something–something about you even his brain couldn’t explain.

“Look, Spencer, you know you can come to any9 of us if you ever need to,” Spencer avoided Hotch’s gaze, tapping his fingers on the table before him.

“Yeah, I know.”

Hotch eyed his pupil silently for a moment, lips pressed into a thin line as he tried to assess the situation. Eventually, the man sighed and folded his hands, “Alright, as long as you know that.” Spencer nodded and stood, taking Hotch’s words as a cue to leave, “Hey, Reid–”

Spencer paused and turned around, eyes finding Hotch’s with hesitation, “yeah?”

Hotch sighed and it sounded fatigued, though Spencer couldn’t deduce if it was from staying late at the office most nights or all the stress that had been plaguing Spence–that he now brought down on the team. Not on purpose, never on purpose, but he didn’t know how to stop it.

“Nothing, go home, get some rest, take the day off, maybe.”

Spencer thought to protest, but then he thought he’d have more time to text you, to call you, and maybe if you weren’t busy you could spend the day together. Most nights he stayed awake, texting, calling you. A few of the team members had caught him smiling at his phone when he was on it and his face morphing into angst and annoyance at the world when he wasn’t.

Whatever it was–whoever it was: it wasn’t healthy. And Spencer knew that. You knew that. But neither of you wanted to admit it–not yet at least.

Spencer had told you to meet him in five minutes outside of your apartment, he’d planned a day away from everything, though as he’d come to learn, he’d been doing that for a while. He knew you had been the victim of it as well, whoever you had lost, you’d loved with your whole heart, whoever he was competing with, he could never measure up, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to be alone but he didn’t want to be at work, he didn’t want to think, and in that sense, he’d grown lazy. He didn’t care about consequences, all he cared about was you and what you could provide. He didn’t feel guilty about it either, because he knew you thought the same.

You ignored L—’s presence as you flipped over every picture frame he was in, and had began taking down everything in your apartment he’d bought or contributed to, you didn’t want to be reminded of what you had lost when you were gaining something new.

You met him outside in five minutes, just like he’d said to. “Hey,” the bustle on the street went away when you saw him. He was close, but there was always something between you two. It wasn’t a spark like it had been with L—, it wasn’t friendship like you had with M—, but it wasn’t like your coworker’s either. You didn’t know what it was, it felt both tangible and unattainable. It was a shell of a relationship almost, but you were doing it to yourselves. To punish? To force down? To repent?

Maybe it was because you both thought you deserved this kind of love, the half-filled kind.

Maybe it was the only love you could provide for anyone else because when you loved fully, people died and hurt were the people they left. You couldn’t be too sure, but you didn't like thinking about it much. You hid the thoughts and moral parts of yourself, shouting that this was wrong, what you were doing to yourself, and enabling Spencer to do to himself could be considered abuse. Torment in which you were both willing participants.

The day waned, you picked up coffee and then you headed to the bookstore downtown. He’d picked out a few psychological and physics novels and you selected a single thriller. He’d snorted at the title when you’d read it to him and said after reading the synopsis on the back, “It’s going to be–” he paused and focussed his eyes again, “Sorry, no spoilers will come from me.”

You frowned, “but you haven’t read this one, how can you tell who the killer is?” When you saw him hesitate you squinted, trying to figure out why he couldn’t answer. “Are you just guessing?” You raised a brow.

He laughed nervously and began rubbing his nape, “Yeah, kind of.” You smiled and clicked your tongue, “seriously? Come on,” you smacked him on the shoulder, pushing him forward when one of the registers opened up and called the next person forward.

“Do you want to call it a day?” You asked as you exited the shop with him on your heels.

“Erm…” he frowned, looked around, his bag in hand, “What about cornetto?” He motioned to the vendor across the street at the child playground.

You chuckled, “Seriously? Spencer, it’s like–the beginning of January?”

“Yeah, so?” he tilted his head, allowing a few strands of his shaggy brown hair to fall into his face. You sighed, biting your lip as you considered.

“Alright, then, come on.” You picked a flavor for each other and upon tasting his choice, you were surprised it wasn’t as bad as you'd expected it to be.

You were quite content, for the most part anyway–a bench caught Spencer’s eyes and he asked to sit, so you sat. You were speaking, merely enjoying the other’s presence. But that sinking feeling in the back of your head began to bubble up again. It’d been happening ever since you and M— had that fight. She hadn’t messaged you and you hadn’t done anything to contact her. It always seemed most present when you were with Spencer. Or when you were texting or thinking about him. He seemed to be at the pinnacle of all your stress and yet, he was the only one that could make it go away.

“Spencer…” you murmured, noting the dying sun in the sky, taking its color with it. The clouds turned gray and you knew it would start raining soon.

“Yeah?” he threw the last of the cone into his mouth and stood to toss the wrapper in a nearby bin.

You watched him, waiting and wondering what you wanted to say. You closed your eyes because you could not acertain what exactly it was you wanted to say. Upon turning around and finding you with your eyes closed he looked away, and stuffed his hands into his pocket, as if you’d passed your feelings onto him.

“—)”

“–No, Spencer, I need to say it.” You stood, still gripping your cornetto.

“Say what?” He all but squeaked, throwing his hands up, “—, what is it you have to say?”

“You say it like that,” you frowned, taking a step toward him, “but I think what you really mean is, ‘why do you have to say it’”

He averted his eyes, you were right and you both knew it. You took another step forward, but he met it by taking one back. You looked up at him and in a moment of vulnerability, you reached for him. Your heartbeat pulsed as he did just what you expected him to do, he pulled away and turned his back to you.

Your heart was breaking, but not for him. He was shattering you fantasy. Your ‘everything is okay’ world. You had given up practically everything to feel like this all the time and he was shattering it each second he didn’t turn back around.

“Spencer,” you whispered again.

He spun around with a force you had never seen and shouted, “NO —, no–we can’t–we can’t do this. We–we can’t do that.” The question broke the illusion, your day together that hadn’t felt real, felt no less than a slap of reality.

“But why?” Came your plead.

“Because!” He shouted, “Because–because people die, and when people die, they take every soul with them! I don’t–don’t you get it?” He scoffed, eyes crazed, yours glistening with almost tears, but not quite.

“Be real, Spencer,” you narrowed your eyes, your voice dripping with venom. You looked tired despite the amount of days you’d taken leave from work, “I’m probably the only one that gets it.”

“Then you should know better” he shot back, jabbing a finger in your direction, his eyes coming down on you like a storm, and in this moment, you felt quite like Dorothy.

You nodded, a grim smile quirking up your lips, “wow, Spencer, just wow.”

“—)”

“–Do you really think I give a damn?” You scoffed, facing him for possibly the last time, “Screw you, Spencer.” You launched the rest of your cornetto at his face, watching it hit his cheek and fall to the floor.

He grimaced, and as you walked away, trying to make sense of everything, you felt the bubbled feeling disappear. No, you didn’t love Spencer, but you loved the feeling of being with him, the feeling of being with someone who felt just as you felt. Who could give you just as much as you could give and nothing more.

You didn’t understand why you could be together and not in this strange limbo you’d been in since meeting.

Now, though, every sound seemed amplified by the loss of your relationship. You decided as you exited the park, watching the clouds move together, the when you got home, you’d call M— and tell her everything you’d kept a secret.

And you were ready to do exactly that when a message from Spencer came through your phone. You hesitated, you’d already changed out of your day clothes and had slid into some pijamas.

Old habit must die hard, you thought and you clicked the notification.

Let me come over. Was all it said and cursing yourself, you texted back, okay.

An hour later Spencer was entering your apartment, you weren’t sure why you’d both had the urge to speak to each other in person. Over the phone seemed too…careless you supposed, and well, this wasn’t a careless topic.

“Do you want something to drink?” You tried to lessen the tension, but he shook his head and answered no.

You sighed and followed him to the couch. You avoided sitting too close to each other, some unknown force separating you from making that mistake. “We need to talk.” Your heart sank, but you knew it was coming. You knew he was right. You’d told yourself the same thing–but you weren’t ready. This was too soon.

“Spencer–”

“No, —, we need to have it out.” His voice was firm and offered no room for protest. A sigh escaped his lips and it was guttural. He was shuddering and you hate how it made you feel better about yourself. You hated how you were grateful this was just as hard for him as it was for you.

“I know…” It was the hardest admission you ever said, you should have been saying ‘I do’, today was your wedding day after all–or at least it would have been had things turned out different. You fought the urge to cry and turned away, “I know.”

He took a breath and swallowed, eyes gleaming over, “—, look at me.” You pressed your lips together and squeezed your eyes, trying to slow the fast pacing of the blood pumping through your veins. Across the dim lighting of your apartment, the TV muted, but on, you met his gaze, and there it was–everything neither of you had ever said out loud was there, it was pain and grievance and ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I love you but I don’t love you like I should’ all wrapped into one.

There was no doubt in your mind that your expression mimicked his, and he traced every line of your testimony, appreciating and accepting it as he accepted his own and allowed you to look into his mind for a few seconds–the last few seconds he had of you. He didn’t want to leave you crying, he didn’t want to remember you like that, and he didn’t want you to remember him in that way–so he smiled. It was sad, but it was warm, and for that, you smiled back.

You only cried once the door shut behind him. And you cried and cried and cried, and when you were done, you deleted his number, hesitating over the button before pressing your eyes together and clicking it–your heart and mind working together to tell you you’d be okay. To tell you that you were always going to be okay, and then you finally cried for Spencer and his mystery lover whom he’d never spoke about, but knew he’d lost. He never had to say her name, she was there in the corner of his eyes. She was there perched on the edge of his desk, when you walked into his home library and ran your fingers along his titles, she was there, a ghost, a whisper, but she was there, L— never seemed to be too far behind.

For what it was worth, you were glad you got to know him, even if it was only half.

The light fading into your living room found its way wrapped around your neck and highlighted your face, creating a certain glow. “You look great,” M— smiled, “but are you sure you’re ready?”

“It’s been a month,” you frowned, “and didn’t you say I’d never ‘be ready’?”

She laughed softly, “Yeah, I think I did say something like that, but seriously, are you sure?”

The apartment was practically empty with boxes straying to and fro, the only thing you still had out was the full-length mirror that sat near your front door, the one in which you spun around in now. “I’m fine, I have to be, right? To move on, or something?”

“Is that what they say in therapy nowadays?”

“Quit acting like my grandmother.” She rolled her eyes but met your smile with one of her own.

“So,” she said as you locked the door behind you, “what did they say?”

You huffed, heading toward your car in the parking lot, “Well, they said that I need to be on my very best behavior, but,” you grinned, showing a bit of teeth, “I am not going to be fired!”

“That’s really great, —, I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah,” you bit your cheek, “me too.”

The cemetery wasn’t lively, though you didn’t expect it to be, there were a few single people, mostly old relatives, likely visiting late lovers, a few younger kids, likely visiting late parents or maybe they were just like you, visiting youtheir would-be husband or wife, going over all the things that could have been.

“There he is,” M— pointed.

“I remember,” you nodded, sure, it was almost five months ago, but you recalled every moment you spent here. You hated this place, it was gloomy and it sucked the color out of everything living. But L— was here and you had to see him, you had to explain that what you had been doing wasn’t on purpose and that you were surely on your way to getting better. You told him you had started to look forward to your therapy sessions again and that you and M— had made up. You were active at work more often now and you called both his and your parents regularly.

You also wanted to tell him about Spencer, even though he’d entered your life and left it like a blitz snowstorm, it wouldn’t be fair to not include him, it wouldn’t be fair to ignore the relationship you had with him. Not saying anything would be lying.

“Do you want some privacy?” M— asked, looking around.

You nodded, “yeah, please?”

“Okay, I’ll be over there.” She pressed her lips into a thin line, watching as you smiled sadly and nodded. “Just…right over there.” She walked toward the trees that surrounded the yard and leaned against a great oak., pulling out a pack of cigarettes for L—, lighting, but not smoking it–her little tribute to the friend she’d lost.

Spencer got home from work rather late, well–early, if he took into account the time. He was tired, but something kept him awake. His insomnia had decreased somewhat, his dreams of Maeve were ever present, but they’d begun to deescalate. His mind was no longer recounting the affairs of her death nor the circumstances leading up to it.

He’d become more active at work, his brain working faster than it had on the case he’d just closed than it had in the past few months. He showered, then made his way to the kitchen, thinking to brew some coffee. But his satchel caught his eye, not his satchel in particular, but one of the items hidden within.

He hesitated a moment before making his way toward his couch, where it lay. Upon opening the flap, he found what he knew to be concealed. He didn’t have x-ray vision–though if a thing like that existed in humans, he was sure he would’ve–he knew he hadn’t taken it out yet, and some part of him was ready to–not to move on just yet, but to begin the process of letting go.

He smiled and tugged the book into his arms. He made a decision right then. So, Spencer brewed his pitcher of coffee and headed toward his stationary desk, settling The Narrative of John Smith to the side. He poured the pure brown liquid into a mug, making sure to add ten to eleven sugar cubes and ¼th cups of creamer before mixing..

After taking a sip and apporcing it, he grabbed a coaster right and settled back at his desk.

He took another sip and savored it, placing it back down in exchange for a pen and paper, readying himself to write.

The words came out uncertain at first, but as he figured out what he wanted to say, it became a little simpler. ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘thank you’ he wrote more than a few times and he was sure if he read it back to himself he’d find he’d become illiterate. And he mentioned her. How could he not? She was enough to make him go crazy, the reaction he’d had that day at the park with her–it had meant something. Even if it was anger. Not like the one he’d shown Emily, where he was angry because she was right. It was more than even she had seen; more than his mother.

He referenced the quote by Thomas Merton, her last thought to him before everything went wrong, and responded with a quote he belived fit perfectly.

“It is not violence that best overcomes hate–nor vengeance that most certainly heals injury,” Charlotte Brontë. And so, I leave you, not with hate for abandoning me, nor vengeance for loving my soul. I leave you with tenderness, my once-in-a-lifetime.

Spencer folded the letter in half after signing it and sealed it within an envelope. He slipped the casing into the front of the book, where her quote resided, and stood, shelving it between his favorite authors, right in the middle, and then Spencer cried. His wails nearly shook the building, a neighbor came by later on that morning to ask if he was alright, and Spencer replied that, yes, he was alright. And he felt alright. Something he hadn’t truthfully felt in a very long time.

Time passed like the hours in a high school day; with each month, you felt better, your head clearer. The month was January and perhaps you shouldn’t have been thinking about it, but you couldn’t help it. You were human after all.

Merely human.

With hands stuffed into your coat, you pushed through the crowd of people and crossed the street. You weren’t hoping for anything, not even closure. The sky grayed but it made you smile–a year ago it would have made you grimmer. You closed your eyes and sucked in everything you could, the smell of freshly baked goods in a nearby shop, the dozen’s of perfumes from people as they circled you, the noise of everyday society buzzed in your ears, and that familiar jazz singer’s voice strained to hit that familiar note as you stepped into the coffeehouse.

You thought about ordering first, but you wanted to sit and enjoy it for a minute, something you didn’t have the chance to do when you still lived on this side of town. You tugged out your phone and brushed back a lock of hair behind an ear.

Scrolling social media for a minute, you smiled when you noticed the case Spencer and his team had just closed. You’d found him on accident when a coworker you often spent your lunches with sent you an article about some serial killer and the man that had brought him to justice–who just happened to be a guest speaker for one of younger brother’s professors.

Spencer Reid, FBI agent. You had laughed at the irony, but you then took to following the cases here and there, happy he was moving on from whatever had pained him so.

You read over the short article, then replied to a few text messages from people you had yet to get back to. When you finished, you rolled your neck from side to side and stretched, pulling a book out of your purse. It was new, a gift from Christmas from L—’s mom. It wasn’t your favorite genre, but it was romance and the beginning was just heartbreaking. You were so enhanced by the words on the page, that you didn’t notice the man sitting in the corner of the shop, using a newspaper to hide his head, though he wasn’t hiding it this time, he was reading it.

Spencer spotted you the moment before you stepped into the coffee shop, right before you pulled open the door and made the bell at the top jingle. He didn’t try hiding his face, but he tried not to pay too much attention to you.

The year for him had gone by rather quickly compared to the time he’d fought against his addiction. He felt better, a lot better–whereas a year ago he couldn’t imagine where he’d be in a month.

Spencer had found his thoughts drifting toward you this morning, something he hadn’t expected. He thought about you not often, but at times, he’d wonder about you, about where you were, and if you ever thought about him. He’d wonder if you–by chance–ever saw him on TV, wonder if you ever kept up with him–which was a dumb question, of course, you’d moved on with your life. Why would you care?

But you were here, you were here and he wondered too, if this were a coincidence, or simply the power of an unseen force.

He debated with himself, scared he would make the wrong decision either way he chose. Eventually, he closed his eyes, sucked in a breath, and let it out, a slow, gentle smile replacing the once-before strained expression. He decided and if this decision damned him, then he could ask for forgiveness, but leaving without saying anything, felt like a crime in its own right, apart from that, a part of him missed you.

So, Spencer stood and walked in your direction, setting the newspaper on the table as he’d done a year ago, although this time he folded it neatly, a happy reflection of what his life had become.

He would have sat down, but he didn’t know if you wanted to see or speak with him, so he ramined standing and awkwardly said, “Hey…” his voice cracking had him clearing his throat right after.

You looked up and for a moment, he was sure you would sneer, but you didn’t, you smiled, and you said, “Hey…” back.

“Mind if I sit?” he motioned for the chair in front of you.

You shut the cover of your book, using the string to save your place and waved a hand,“not at all.”

He took up residence calmly, and upon noting the book, raised an eyebrow and asked, “What are you reading?”

“Jane Eyre, funnily enough,” because a year ago, you wouldn’t have ever thought to tackle something as classic as that.

His eyes widened slightly as his mind reminisced about the end of his letter to Maeve, tucked securely within The Narrative of John Smith. “Really?”

“Yep,” you nodded, running a hand over the cover, “it was a gift from L—’s mother.”

“L—?” He raised a brow, wondering if you were seeing someone now. He was happy for you, but he couldn’t deny the slight sinking of his heart.

“My late finacé,” you smiled brightly.

“Oh…” his chest contracted, your fiancé, your late fiancé–the finacé who was no doubt the reason for your diminishing essence a year ago, when you’d met.

“She said I’d like it, and I do–so far.”

“I kind of feel like Mr. Rochester,” he said abruptly. “Right now… Just a bit.”

You tilted your head, your smile reaching your eyes and it was the most beautiful thing Spencer had ever seen. He didn’t remember you smiling like that. He didn’t recall the sheer happiness of being here, of being alive–of living. “I haven’t gotten that far, so I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

He chuckled, “Right, sorry.”

Your heart fluttered at his tone, it wasn’t like the stoic, grim one he used when you used to know him, but maybe this was the real Spencer–the one before he’d lost whomever he had. The question sat at the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t quite force it out. “Don’t be, I’ll know eventually.”

He smiled and by everything–that smile was one you could get used to. But you didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself, so you simply sighed.

“I am strangely glad to get back again to you: and wherever you are is my home–my only home.”

You thought.

Charlotte Brontë.

a/n: 100 post–uhm, gasp?

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody

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