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penny00dreadful · 1 year ago

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This is so fucking stupid and I'm not sorry. Inspired by this video of the two guitarists from DragonForce taking the piss out of Sabaton(affectionately).

Jeffington: Just ended your whole career on live 😘

Eddie scrunched his eyes closed then wrenched them open again, trying to make sense of what he was seeing on his screen. It was too early in the fucking morning for this shit.

Whatever.

He buried his face back in between Steve’s shoulders and allowed himself to fall asleep once more.

Corroded Coffin had only started making it big in the early 90’s when they split right down the middle. As time went on they started to drift towards different subgenres. Jeff and Grant had wanted to explore a more international sound, while Gareth and Eddie were happy to stay in the power metal scene with just a touch of neoclassical.

They had tried to make it work, but the sounds were just too different and while Eddie and Grant wanted to continue on with lyrics full of fantasy and gothic romance, Jeff and Grant had wanted to focus more on ‘the human condition’.

So they separated. Eddie and Gareth had kept the Corroded Coffin name while Jeff and Grant travelled, exploring their sound.

There was no animosity. They were all still the best of friends. Even as Jeff and Grant had settled in Stockholm, where they had quickly shot to stardom with their new band members, Eddie and Gareth made their home in California enjoying their own success. They met up as often as they could, whenever tour dates aligned or they were booked into the same festivals.

Eddie and Steve were godfathers to Grant’s youngest daughter.

He and Gareth had been groomsmen in Jeff’s wedding.

They were solid.

Which was why the text from Jeff was more exasperating than worrying.

Plus it was like… nine in the morning which, granted, wasn't early, early but Eddie was a damn rockstar.

And he might have lost track of time reading last night and stayed up until four but that's besides the point.

But then Steve was handing him his morning coffee with a kiss, saying Robin had sent him a link to something and fine. He’d go watch whatever stupid shit Jeff pulled.

Eddie settled back into bed because he could and it was a Sunday.

Sue him.

But he couldn’t decide if he should be fake-mad or wildly entertained because the link Robin had sent opened the VOD about an hour into the stream, just in time for Grant to say “Should we do Corroded Coffin?”

Both Jeff and Grant were sitting in Jeff’s studio space in front of Jeff’s computer with a range of instruments behind them, grinning at each other.

“Oh shit, definitely!” Jeff stood and seemed to think about it for a second before picking up one of his guitars, a bright acid green with black tendrils running throughout. “The most dramatic of the bunch,” he leaned into the mic, gesturing at the guitar before taking his seat again, “just like their frontman.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless.

“You think you can shred like Munson?” Grant asked, leaning forward and starting to tap out drum beats on the laptop.

Jeff scoffed. “Yeah right. Let me just play at five-fucking-thousand bpm and sing at the same time. It’s gonna be an approximation at best.”

Surprisingly enough the music they came up with did sound very close to Corroded Coffin’s sound. Grant relied heavily on the kick-drum and high hat to a ridiculous degree for Gareth's part and yeah, fair.

Gareth did love his high hat.

Jeff played the fastest guitar riff he could muster which honestly wasn’t that bad. He couldn’t go quite as hard as Eddie could but guitar was always Eddie’s first love and he was a master at his craft. Jeff gave the camera a cheeky wink as he used the computer to speed the guitar solo up, making it sound far more complex.

“I swear to god,” Eddie muttered to himself, “if they insinuate that I do that, I’ll fucking-”

“Eddie would never.” Jeff said, responding to someone in the chat who’d asked that very question.

Grant looked up with a sly smile. “Oh, god no. He’d never. He’s too proud for that.”

Cheeky bastards.

“You know what this needs?”

“Female backing vocals?”

“Yes!" Jeff snapped his fingers. "Exactly. Like something pulled from Jackson’s Lord of the Rings!”

“Oh come on!” Eddie pouted, but even still he could tell they weren’t actually making fun.

A notification popped up on Eddie’s phone.

Gare-Bear: Have you watched the stream?

Eddie: Watching right now. They’re starting on the lyrics.

Gare-Bear: Did Robin send you the link?

Eddie: Yeah.

Gare-Bear: Okay, keep watching.

Eddie: 👍

By the time the guys had hashed the lyrics out, punctuating them with high falsetto points that freaked Jeff’s cats out, Eddie was giggling into his coffee. The lyrics were so comically bad but they were so Corroded Coffin at the same time.

I wear armour and I am sad. I'm all alone and I am sad. Such a lone wolf am I. Except I'm not because here comes this hot man who's totally not my husband. Bats and demons and darkness and death. Bow down to me. Kneel before me. I am your master. This is about sex. Oh, look, a dragon! I'll suck your blood then I'll fuck you through the wall. Except I won't because you're an allegory for my husband again. I'll fuck him instead. Every song involves him in some way. Because I'm a big fucking sap.

And then it happened. That crafty wench.

A message popped up in the chat.

BuckyBirdie: Needs more dick sucking lyrics.

“Holy shit.” Grant whipped out his phone. “R- Birdie? Is that you? Stay right there, hold on.”

While Jeff continued to play through the guitar, Grant disappeared, raising the phone to his ear before coming back a few minutes later and whispering something to Jeff.

Jeff’s whole face split into the most mischievous of smiles and Eddie only had time to think oh no before Robin’s face appeared, joining the stream with a tired if not slightly manic expression, all topped off by her yummy sushi pyjamas.

The first thing Grant said to her was ��What fucking time is it over there, Birdie?”

“I dunno.” She shrugged, looking down at her watch. “Like half six in the morning?”

“Oh. Could be worse then.”

“I haven’t slept yet.” She said with a bright smile.

“Dude! Why not?”

“I got into cryptography again last night and I haven’t stopped. Don’t tell Steve.”

Oh, I am so telling Steve. Eddie thought to himself.

“God. What a fuckin’ nerd.” Jeff punctuated his statement with a loud strum of his guitar.

Robin stuck her tongue out. “Takes one to know one.”

“Ouch. Right in my middle schooler heart.”

“Anyway, a little birdie told me you boys need some backing vocals?”

Eddie didn’t know how he was going to get her back for this, but he was sure he’d be able to figure something out eventually.

Like banging pots and pans in her hallway while she slept off her cryptography binge.

Though it was almost worth the hilarity because noted lesbian Robin Buckley happily sat there, singing about dick and tongues and assholes in a high ethereal voice that was then layered behind Jeff's.

By the end, the chat was going wild asking when it was going to be available to stream because even though it was a parody song, it was annoyingly catchy. Just before they signed off, Jeff and Grant let their audience know they’d ask Eddie and Gareth for permission before they’d do anything.

Eddie minimised the video and opened up his chat with Gareth.

Eddie: You wanna let them release it?

Gare-Bear: Fuck yeah!

Eddie: Awesome.

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yorshie · 1 year ago

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Prompt 16 and 25 with Mikey? Fluffiness pls🙏 If you wanna X3 I love ur writing 🫶💕✨

Thank you! And thank you for requesting!

A lazy Sunday afternoon found you squashed on the couch next to Mikey, half a dozen different bowls of snacks perched around the two of you, and your new favorite show on the tv. Time was moving slowly, measured more in commercial breaks than the moving hands of the clock. In between bites of popcorn and the lull of Mikey's heartbeat under your ear, you found yourself blinking more and more as the warmth of the room started to seep into your pores.

"Hey, babes," Mikey poked your nose once, twice, until you opened your eyes to glare up at him. "Don't give me that look, babycakes. If you stay like that, you're gonna end up falling asleep on me."

"That's the plan, Angelo." You quipped back, snuggling closer, and he popped an eye ridge up in obvious glee.

"Ooo, we taking a nap? That's cool, just let me-" He cut himself off, shimmying his arms under you until he could pull you up out of the tight corner and tucked you against his chest instead. "Yup, this is way better."

You snorted at him, raising your head to comment on how he'd successfully turned you both horizontal on the lumpy couch, when you noticed he was sporting that goofy, wide smile you loved.

Without thinking, you grabbed his face and pecked his nose, pressing your lips to the button snout quickly before reeling back to see how he'd take the action.

He froze, blinking down at you, before that smile widened, his dimples flashing at the corners of his mouth. "Can I have another one of those?"

You smiled at him, mouth struggling to purse so you could repeat the action. When you pulled back the second time, he chased after you, closing the distance to press his lower lip to the tip of your nose in an approximation of the same gesture. It had you giggling, the feeling ticklish, and he chuckled at the sound.

It devolved into rubbing your nose against his snout, the fine hairs on your face rubbing against the small scales across the bridge of his snout, before he once again demanded another kiss.

"Please." He chased you again, slid his arms around your waist and hugged you tight when you tried to turn your face up and away in mock denial. "Just let me sneak one more, no one has to know."

"We're not exactly sneaking, Mikey." You giggled, tipping your head down to press another kiss to his face, his plastron rumbling happily underneath you.

"Oh, we totally should. I don't wanna share these." He replied, catching a discarded blanket on the floor with his foot and flicking it over your head's with one practiced move. You outright laughed as the world became orange tinted under the heavy fabric, and he stole another nose nuzzle while you were distracted.

#blurb day #tmnt bayverse #tmnt michelangelo #bayverse michelangelo x reader

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sauleline2 · 9 months ago

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Maths, Gender, And a Number Bigger than the distance to Kepler 22-B

heads up this is loooong

so i was thinking about xenopronouns (pronouns which are impossible for humans to pronounce, mostly used by therians and otherkin. eg. a pronoun that is a lion's roar, bird chirp, or alien language, etc.) while trying to fall asleep. well, i thought, couldn't an example of a xenopronoun be a normal pronoun set, like she/her, but with a different coloured font? well. i got to thinking. how many colours are there? well it depends on what format you use. an RGB colour has 255 ✕ 255 ✕ 255 colours. that comes out to 16,581,375 different colours. HSV on the other hand, has 3,600,000 different colours (360 ✕ 100 ✕ 100). but why stop there? underlines! bold! italics! the possibilities are (almost) endless! (btw im gonna stick with the rgb colour list, because it's a bigger number and i, an idle game player, find that cool) well. im just going to stick with the stock word formatting options (bold, italics, underline, strikethrough, subscript, and superscript). all of these options can be toggled all together, with the exception of superscript and subscript. now. how do we calculate that? well we take how many options there are (8, not counting the subscript and superscript (we'll get to that)) and multiply that by our number of colours. this gives us 132,651,000. we quickly multiply that by 3, to get our full total formats. 397,953,000. now i could say something sappy about how there are infinite combinations of letters, to make infinite pronouns, but that's boring in my opinion. so. there are 149,186 unicode characters (in the current version). sure, not all of them can be made into bold, or some don't have italics. who cares? they still have the italics information. or the bold information. you get the point. well. we take our amount of format options, and multiply that by the amount of unicode characters. 59,369,016,258,000. fifty nine trillion, three hundred and sixty nine billion, sixteen million, two hundred and fifty eight thousand different combinations. now. to make these into pronoun sets. to make this easier for myself, im gonna cap the maximum length of one of these at 7 characters, and the minimum at 1 (invisible characters are cool, like U+2064 or U+2063, for example). each set will be in the format of "she/her/hers", so that means each of the sets will be between 3 and 21 characters long (forward slashes are excluded). i wasn't sure how to do this with a calculator, so i did it by hand. or at least, i was going to. then i realized "wait the way im doing this is shit, and i could very easily have calculated this like the way you calculate how many different states a combo lock has. 343 different combinations of characters. we multiply that by the amount of characters we have, and boom. the total amount of robot pronouns. 20,363,572,576,494,000. twenty quadrillion, three hundred and sixty three trillion, five hundred and seventy two billion, five hundred and seventy six million, four hundred and ninety four thousand. now. most of these will be unintelligible messes of characters in different colours.

i may as well repeat the final number that i got. 20,363,572,576,494,000. think about that. if you want to put that into perspective, there are approximately 100,000,000,000 stars in the milky way galaxy (at a lowball. it goes up to around 400,000,000,000). or, 3,154,000,000 seconds in a century. (im gonna put these numbers up next to each other at the end of this, under the cut, just to help you look at them.

(up to date (as of writing)) (most of these are approximates btw) (distances are in kilometres)

"Pronouns": 20,363,572,576,494,000 Kepler 22-B's Distance: 6,055,000,000,000,000 Distance of All Human Veins: 772,485,120,000,000 Cells in the Body: 30,000,000,000,000 Elon Musk's Net Worth: 205,200,000,000 Stars in the Milky Way: 100,000,000,000 Baby Shark's Views: 14,118,385,910 Earth's Population: 8,100,000,000 Seconds in a Century: 3,154,000,000 Listens my Friend has to Sum 41: 18,306

if this looks like shit... lmao? i guess. it was formatted for web view. idk how it looks on mobile, don't care to check. (Yes i did put elon musk there because i hate him and want to point out how fucking rich he is and i think that we should kill him) (yes i did put my friend's Sum 41 scrobbles there to make fun of him)

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birdofdawning · 2 years ago

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Sleepovers

“Here are two more,” said Myka, watching a well-dressed couple approach the tall, Second Empire-style house. The street lamps shone on the New England mist, and with the full moon out everything looked like an Atkinson Grimshaw painting. (Briefly she wondered if Helena had ever met John Atkinson Grimshaw but she quickly repressed the impulse to ask; Pete would make fun of her interest, and she didn’t feel like being made fun of tonight. She refocused on the investigation.)

The man (approximately 5’11”, medium build, receding dark hair, well dressed) was looking about nervously while trying not to appear like it, as the woman (5’5”, early forties, blonde, evening wear) preceded him up the steps and knocked at the ornate front door. A moment later they were inside.

“That’s thirteen people so far, all affluent-looking. Just the sort I’d expect to see at a private auction. But far be it for us to actually go in and stop them,” said Helena’s voice from the back seat of the SUV where she had constructed a sort of nest from travel blankets and her woollen coat. She sounded irritable.

“We don’t actually know that this is the site of the auction, or even that there definitely is an artifact auction happening,” said Myka carefully, “We only know that Tourtellotte is a collector, has had a previous connection with an artifact, and that he owns this house. We need more data — you of all people should understand that. They could be doing anything in there.”

“Yeah they could!” said Pete, lighting up, “Maybe it’s a—” Myka gave him a narrow glare. “—a sleepover! Just a fun Thursday-night sleepover, like when we were kids. You remember sleepovers, right Mykes?”

Myka glanced back up the street to track a passing car. “Not really. I never went to a sleepover when I was a kid,” she said absently.

Pete turned to stare at her. “What, like, not ever? Really?”

Myka silently cursed herself. “No. And can we not turn this—”

“So what was the problem? Oo, I know, you could never decide which books to bring! No, you needed to vet the rating of every scary movie! No, the houses were never up to fire code and you—”

“I was never invited, okay? Can we get back to this now? Our job?”

Pete subsided immediately. “Well, that sucks. Hey,” he nudged her with his elbow, “I would have totally invited you to a sleepover. If I had been allowed girls over. (I wasn’t.)”

“And if you weren’t ten years older than me. Creepy.” Myka elbowed him back.

“I take it,” said Helena’s voice from the back, “that a ‘sleepover’ isn’t some form of overnight transport?”

Pete turned around in his seat, excited again. “Oh man, H.G. doesn’t even know what a sleepover is! I’ve got two sleepover virgins here! Looks like we’re gonna have to do something about that when we get home.”

“Pete,” began Myka, rubbing her temples, “I am thirty-one. I don’t feel a tremendous urge to—”

“We’ll get some movies and some snacks, and stay up all night,” Pete carried on, “We can finally have that Aliens marathon! I’ll text Claud.” He pulled out his phone.

“Ah, so it’s similar to your movie nights. But with… sleeping?”

Myka twisted around to face Helena. “A sleepover is for children. Or teens, I guess. You spend the night at your friend’s house and do fun stuff.”

“And you sleep there? Or you don’t sleep?”

Myka thought back to the Baby-sitter’s Club books she had read. “You probably do fall asleep eventually, but there’s lots of talking and maybe watching movies like Pete says.”

Helena considered this. “When I was fifteen,” she said, “I was apprenticed to a dressmaker and shared a bed in an attic room with two other apprentices. We would talk for a time each night, if we weren’t too tired. I suppose this is similar, though I would have hesitated to refer to us as ‘friends’.”

Myka was very still. Helena rarely shared personal information unprompted, and what she did reveal was always cheerfully vague. “You were a dressmaker?” she probed tentatively.

“Not for very long,” said Helena, “thankfully. I was a terrible dressmaker. I was far more interested in the sewing machines themselves. Eventually I was dismissed for taking them all apart despite the fact,” she huffed, suddenly furious, “that I had improved the design and doubled their efficiency! But no, that irksome woman Mrs Moffet wouldn’t hear it. I was ‘a troublesome, wicked child’ and had to return home to my father in disgrace.” She muttered something else to herself and stared out the window.

“What happened then?” asked Myka, hardly daring to breath.

Helena gave her a quick glance. “Nothing very interesting.”

“Oh,” said Myka, disappointed.

Helena snorted, and then smiled at her. “Poor Myka! Alright. I was sent off to my mother. She was housekeeper for a very grand lady (new money though, and she had married into it), and I was a downstairs housemaid for a summer. And I was an even worse downstairs housemaid than I was a dressmaker’s apprentice, if such a thing were possible.”

“At Uppark?”

Helena was startled. “Yes. At Uppark. How on earth did you know that? Oh, Charles, of course. Yes I see.”

Pete put his phone away. “Okay, Claud’s up for Aliens next weekend, if we can wrap this up early enough. And then you two get to braid each other’s hair and tell scary stories all night!”

“Yes, that’s what it was like as an apprentice,” said Helena, losing interest. “Well, I would tell queer stories of time come adrift and de-evolved men and so-on, and they would tell me to shut my head and go to sleep because we had to get at four to light the stove. But there was certainly a lot of hair-braiding. Here come two more worthies trying to look innocuous. The one on the left is armed, I think.”

She and Pete carried on, focusing on the case again. But Myka’s mind was elsewhere, imagining herself and Helena at fifteen years old, sharing a bed. She thought she would have happily lain there for hours listening to that low, velvet voice talk of travellers from other times and blue bacilli and sinister orchids and enormous terrifying birds . Until sleep took Helena, and then, warm beside her, Myka would have listened to her slow breathing and inhaled the scent of her hair and—

Myka mentally shook herself. Obviously they could never have really been friends, not as teenagers in the ‘90s. Helena was so pretty, she surely would have been popular and have had no time for weird, awkward Myka Bering. But perhaps now they could be grown-up friends, who shared books and… and had coffee dates. Good friends.

Myka decided that she wanted to be good friends with Helena very much.

#bering and wells #early days - still secretly villianous Helena #myka bering #helena wells #pete lattimer #bering & wells #Warehouse 13 #Ficlet

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figjelly · 2 years ago

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Last two days: on and off fever, chills, sore throat, covid negative the whole time

Today: alright gonna go into a walk-in clinic, pretty sure it's strep, ask for some antibiotics

Approximately 1:30P today

First place: we don't do walk-ins anymore

Second place: it'll be 2-3 hours

Me: drives 20 minutes across town to other urgent clinic

Third place: 3-4 hours

Me: fine I guess meme because I don't wanna drive ALL the way back across town

Me: can't go home because if I do, I'll fall asleep because I feel so shitty. Swallowing is now equivalent to dante's ninth level of hell (it's not cold, it's just fucking bad and it's the worst)

Third place: sends a text saying time for check in (it's been 2.5 hours)

Me: okay, here I am, ready to go

Third place: yeah, so we don't take your insurance

Me, just ready to kill someone: *furiously scribbling* why could you not call earlier

Third place: we don't look at that before we're ready for you

Me, goes back to car and breaks down

Me: goes to fourth place

Fourth place: we don't have any appointments for the next three days

Me, openly just breaks down in front of people now

Fourth place: oh no, I feel bad now oh no

Me, internally: YOU FEEL BAD? IVE MISSED THREE DAYS OF WORK, NO PAY, AND IM STILL NOT BETTER MY PERIOD HAS BEEN ACTING FUCKING WEIRD AND TODAY IS THE DAY IT DECIDED TO RUSH DOWN THE HALLS OF THE THAT HOTEL FROM THE SHINING FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

Me, external: ugly crying

Me: goes back to second place

Second place: it'll be three to four hours

Me: fine

#send noodles

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jilliancares · 7 years ago

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Which Witch

Summary: Dan and Phil are neighbors, witches, and enemies. Their feud leads to Dan cursing Phil, only for Phil to curse him right back.

Genre: smut

Word Count: 4.9k

TW: slightly neglected aftercare

(i had this in my drafts in google docs with everything except the smut scene written and i’d completely forgot about it so!!! enjoy my dudes)

Dan loved his neighborhood. There were quaint little houses, tall and skinny and stacked up side by side, each one a different pastel color with white trim on the windows. The yards were green and luscious, and it never failed to make Dan happy to walk down the sidewalks, taking in the colors of the yards and the houses and the sky.

Really, there was only one downfall to the neighborhood. The neighbors. Or, more specifically, the neighbor.

Phil Lester was a Grade A piece of shit, and Dan had no qualms about saying that. Not to himself nor directly to Phil Lester’s face. Just as horrible as the actual person, was the actual person’s cat. Phil couldn’t seem to harness control of that stupid ball of fur and the asshole was constantly trespassing into Dan’s yard and eating his plants. He needed those plants. He grew them all for a reason! Each one was important for potion making, and Dan made plenty of potions. On more than one occasion he’d been tempted to brew one up and spray it on the leaves of his plants, one that would make stupid, asshole cats incredibly sick…

But no, Dan wasn’t that mean. Instead, he barked insults over the fence at his asshole neighbor and his asshole cat, and whenever Dan saw the cat, he picked it up and threw it over the fence.

“Don’t manhandle Charlie!” Phil had cried on more than one occasion, whenever he spotted Dan doing this. “You could hurt him!”

“I don’t care!” Dan would scream back. Although, really, did Phil actually think that Dan was going to let his cat get hurt? Of course he casted a protection charm over the thing before he threw it back. Did Phil really think he was so heartless? “Just keep it out of my yard!”

“You’re the one growing catnip!”

“I need it for my potions!”

“Don’t you know how many substitutes for catnip there are?” Phil had huffed, his hands appearing on the side of the fence. After a visible struggle, Phil had hauled himself upward, so that he was holding himself up on the fence and staring down at Dan, his legs presumably hanging in open air, unless Phil knew of a flying spell that Dan didn’t.

“All of the substitutes have undesired side effects,” Dan had sniffed. “And get off my fence.”

“It’s my fence too,” Phil had grunted, obviously struggling from holding himself up on it. So not a flying charm, then.

That interaction had ended with Dan hexing Phil and Phil falling off the fence, before Dan scurried back inside of his house before Phil could retaliate. Other than yelling after Dan, “Fuck you!”, of course.

There were just too many things about Phil that Dan couldn’t stand, and because of that, he couldn’t stand the man altogether. He glared at him from his windows and sometimes sent petty curses his way, though Phil did it right back. Some days, Dan would find his hot water not working, and he’d roll his eyes before sending a curse right back, making the flowers he’d seen Phil come home with the day before shrivel and die. It was always stuff like this, all these little things on top of each other. It felt normal by now, and sometimes Dan did it without even thinking.

Of course, other times he did it completely intentionally, because Phil was being a stupid, inconsiderate, asshole, and Dan wanted nothing other than to hex his balls off. Of course, that was a bit too far, but Dan still glared venomously out his window, wondering when the hell Phil and his latest fuck would quiet down. It seemed like Phil was constantly carting random men and women into his house, all of them loud and obnoxious and not letting Dan catch a wink of sleep. Of course, maybe it just seemed that way because Dan never took anyone home. Either way, Phil really did have the worst taste.

“Oh! Oh my God, faster, please!” some whiney, nasal-y voice moaned, and judging by the sudden increase of moans, Phil did just that. Dan decided he couldn’t take it anymore.

He sat up in bed, glaring out his window and into Phil’s (and who the hell left their lights on at night, anyway? Dan could see everything). He stood up and stomped over to his bookshelf, yanking a multitude of spell books off the shelf and piling them into his arms, before he marched right back to his bed. He laid them all out and started flipping through them frantically, searching for something that would work, something just evil enough, just mean enough. Something that would convey Dan’s annoyance perfectly.

Phil had finished fucking the idiot’s brains out by the time Dan found the perfect one. He waited while Phil walked his guest out (not having him sleepover, huh?) and came back sometime later, his hair wet and freshly showered. And then Dan started chanting, dragging his finger under the foreign words in his spell book and looking up to glare at Phil between every sentence. He chanted the spell a few times through, just to make sure it really stuck, and then slammed the book shut with a huff when he was finally done. That would sure show Phil, all right. Oh yes. And after being unable to come when he was with another person, he would surely stop taking so many people home, and Dan would finally have uninterrupted sleep once more.

—

Dan got to watch the work of his spell exactly thirteen days later. It was worse this time, because Phil had left his window open, but still, Dan would have the upper hand at the end of it all. He pretended to be asleep, grinning into his pillow, as he listened to Phil and some man going at it. It went on for much longer than usual, and apparently ended on a sour note.

“If you weren’t enjoying it, you should’ve just said something,” the man snarled. Dan chanced a peek as the man walked around the room butt-naked (Phil still hadn’t learned his lesson about turning the lights off) and gathering his clothes.

“I must’ve had too much to drink,” Phil murmured, pink-face and sitting on his bed, conveniently underneath a duvet.

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll show myself out,” the man scoffed, before stalking from Phil’s room with his chin held high.

Phil looked dejected and embarrassed and confused. Good, Dan thought viciously. But then Phil happened to glance out of his window, and fuck, did they make eye contact? No, there was no way they did. Dan’s room was dark, and he’d looked away the second Phil looked over here. Dan was just being paranoid. Really, he should just feel proud of his spell gone right.

—

With a huff, Dan plucked Charlie out of his garden, giving him a cursory pet only because he was so soft and it was hard not to, and then plopped him over on the other side.

“What did you do?” Phil demanded, immediately peering over the top. He looked furious and Dan would’ve been frightened if he’d known Phil’s spells were even half as good as his.

“Returned your thieving cat. What did you do?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Phil snapped. Breathing heavily, he heaved himself over the fence entirely, landing on Dan’s side and nearly crashing into him. It was a bit overkill, really. There was a front gate not ten feet away.

“You’re trespassing,” Dan informed, crossing his arms and cocking his head.

“I don’t care,” Phil replied. “I just want you to undo whatever voodoo you put on me. There’s no way that spell was legal.”

“All the spells I perform are perfectly legal,” Dan said. “Besides, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” With that said, Dan turned around and strode back into his house, turning around to glare at Phil as he stomped on the nearest plant.

“I’ll curse you for that!”

“I’m sure you will!”

—

Really, Dan should’ve known that everything would come back to bite him in the arse.

Currently, he was sat on his bed and fisting his cock as hard as he could ever remember doing. He was panting, and though he was normally very quiet, he was even whining, he was so desperate. A shuddering kind of sob fell from Dan’s lips as he moved his hand even faster, his body thrumming and so close. With an annoyed groan, Dan finally stopped, realizing that it was useless. He’d been trying for an hour so far, and though he felt so unbearably close, it just wasn’t happening.

Dan tugged a pillow into his lap and pressed his face into it. What was wrong with him?

He’d just thought this, when the lights in his room suddenly turned on. Dan gasped, looking around in confusion, when his window flew open and none other than Phil Lester tumbled in, looking triumphant.

“What the fuck!” Dan yelled, clutching the pillow to himself even tighter. “Get out! I’m naked, get out!” He sounded undignified and nothing like the way he usually did when he talked to Phil, which he knew always annoyed the shit out of him, but Dan couldn’t help it. It wasn’t every day your arch nemesis tumbled into your room while you were naked.

Phil stood up, pointing a finger at Dan accusingly, and Dan tugged the comforter over himself in embarrassment. What the bloody fuck was going on?

“You’re an asshole!” Phil proclaimed.

“You’re the one who just— just, broke into my house! Get out!”

“No! Not until you take this spell off me!”

And suddenly, everything made a whole lot of sense. No wonder he couldn’t come!

“You cursed me!” Dan yelled, astonished, and Phil rolled his eyes.

“Well, duh,” he scoffed. Dan’s face went red at the blatant admittance. “Yours is the opposite of mine. You’ll have to actually go out and get someone if you want to come,” he said with a smirk.

Dan’s face got even redder, and his mouth dropped open. He spluttered. “I— I can’t do that!” he cried. “I’m not like you! I can’t just have meaningless sex!”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Whoever said the sex I have is meaningless?”

“You’re just doing it with strangers,” Dan said, rolling his eyes. “It doesn’t mean something unless you love them.”

“Oh really?” Phil asked with a smirk. “You sure about that?”

“Of course.”

“So this…” Phil said, slinking closer to Dan’s bed. He actually had the nerve to climb onto it and kneel next to Dan, before placing his hand on top of the pillow on Dan’s lap, both covered by his comforter. “Would mean nothing?”

“Of course it would!” Dan snapped, or, tried to. It came out as more of a whisper, and Phil raised an eyebrow at him. Oh lord, Dan was going to curse him to high hell, he was.

Phil’s pressed down on the pillow, and even through it and the duvet, it made Dan whimper and grind upward. He’d never done this before, never had someone’s hand so close to his cock, though there was no way Phil knew that. He was looking at Dan with such intensity, his eyes dark and hot, the pressure of his hand on Dan’s lap making Dan struggle not to pant. It didn’t help that Phil was touching him after an hour of Dan rubbing himself raw.

“Are you sure?” Phil said. Dan couldn’t even remember what he was talking about. Phil scooted closer, his lips finding their way to Dan’s neck. For some reason, this felt absolutely fucking incredible to Dan, and he bit his lip, turning his head to the side to give Phil better access.

While Phil’s lips moved over his neck, sucking on his skin just enough to make Dan’s cheeks go pink, his hand found its way to his lower stomach. Dan jolted when Phil’s cold fingers came in contact with his bare skin, but Phil shushed him, and though Dan wrapped his hand around Phil’s wrist, he wasn’t pulling him away, but leading him closer.

Phil’s hand slipped under the comforter, under the pillow, and his long, thin fingers wrapped around Dan’s cock. Dan choked, his whole body curling forwards, trying to wrap around the point of contact.

“Lay back,” Phil instructed, gently pushing him away. He maneuvered Dan so that he was flat on his back, panting and staring up at Phil, who was still wearing absolutely all of his clothes. Dan flushed, realizing this, and shyly tried to sit up a little. Phil held him still. “You’re beautiful,” he said.

Dan stammered some sort of thank you in reply, before gesturing towards Phil. “Your clothes,” he pointed out.

“I’ll take them off,” Phil said easily. “Got any lube?”

Dan’s breath hitched, and he found himself nodding, pointing to his bedside table. God, maybe Phil was right. Maybe you didn’t have to love someone for the sex to be meaningful—after all, they hated each other and this was going great. Phil stripped off his clothes after retrieving the lube, and Dan tried not to stare, really, he did, but Phil was gorgeous.

Once he was naked Phil found the lube in the bedsheets and quickly put it on his fingers. Dan didn’t bother to tell him that he’d only ever fingered himself twice before, stopping the the first time after a single finger because he was embarrassed and the second time after two fingers because it had hurt. Phil’s fingers were wet, and he shoved one into Dan quickly, sloppily, and Dan jerked on the bed. It hurt, but it felt good as well, and it wasn’t like Dan was going to tell him to slow down. But Phil frowned.

“You’re tight,” he commented.

“I don’t have sex with just anybody like you do,” Dan snapped.

“No,” Phil said. He wiggled his finger inside Dan, who gasped at the feeling, accidentally clenching around the intrusion. “You’re really tight.”

“It’s been a while, okay?” Dan lied. “Just get on with it.”

But Phil went slower after that, gentler. He moved his fingers in a way that, embarrassingly, had Dan moving with them, his hips rocking forwards and backwards. By the time he got two fingers in, he reached something inside Dan that made him cry out, before he immediately slapped his hand over his mouth in embarrassment. After that Phil seemed to like pressing against it quite a bit, apparently taking pleasure in the reactions Dan made. Dan had to close his eyes, too overwhelmed to tell Phil to stop examining his face like that. Phil saw his every gasp, every flutter of his eyelashes, every time his mouth fell open only to be clamped back down upon by his teeth.

“Condoms?” Phil asked at one point, three fingers so deep inside Dan that he was having trouble comprehending words. No Dan didn’t have condoms. He’d never had sex, never had a boyfriend, of course he didn’t have condoms.

“Er—I’m out,” Dan said, and Phil nodded.

“It’s alright, I know a spell.” He murmured something under his breath, his eyes squinted shut as he did. “You ready?” he asked. Dan nodded, his fingers clenched in the sheets underneath him. When Phil first started to push in, it hurt. He was big, and he was moving steadily, slowly deeper into Dan, who was sweating all over.

“Breathe,” Phil instructed, and Dan did, gasping in a breath and trying not to cringe at the feeling of himself being stretched wide open. “Relax.” Dan did this as well, and slowly, it got better, it stopped hurting, and Phil was still sliding carefully into him, until he was balls deep and Dan was panting, the sheets sticking to his sweaty back.

“F-fuck,” Dan managed, his chest heaving. Phil hummed, his lips coming down against Dan’s throat and sucking again, harder this time, and Dan was arching up into his warm body. Dan released the sheets, instead clinging onto Phil, his fingers digging into the soft, smooth skin. He could feel himself shaking all over, his muscles trembling, and Phil gently pressed him back into the bed.

“You just lie still,” Phil instructed. “And I’ll take care of you.” If Dan hadn’t known better he would’ve thought Phil knew he was a virgin.

Phil pulled out, just as slowly as he’d pushed in, and it made Dan’s jaw drop open, made him struggle to catch his breath. He pushed back in faster the next time, harder, grunting as he came to a stop deep inside Dan.

“Oh God,” Dan murmured. His fingers were trembling against Phil’s skin, and Phil kissed his shoulders and chest as he pulled out again, angling himself, and pushed directly into Dan’s prostate. Dan made a sound which he would later describe as the most embarrassing thing to come out of him in his adult life and threw his head back. Phil picked up the pace, somehow managing to hit that same spot with every thrust. Dan felt so good he thought he might pass out, his entire body tight and jerking at the intensity of it all.

“Dan,” Phil said suddenly, his voice full of realization. “Dan you’re gonna have to—” he grunted then, slamming back into Dan, who squeaked. “You’re gonna have to take that spell off me, or I won’t be able to…”

“Oh!” Dan exclaimed, and only partially because Phil had reached down and grabbed his dick. Really, it was a miracle Dan had managed not to come yet. “Fuck, yeah. You’ll have to…” he gasped, swallowed, closed his eyes as Phil pounded into him, not slowing down, not letting Dan speak. “Have to… hand me my. Um. My fuck! Spellbook!”

Phil reached over, grabbing the large book that was left on Dan’s bedside table from the past nights of trying to find particularly good hexes. Dan put the book beside him, sitting up slightly and flipping rapidly through the pages as Phil kept fucking him, not slowing down for a minute. It took him much too long to find the page, distracted as he was, and several tries to actually murmur the spell out loud, thanks to the constant interruptions of his moaning.

And then Dan couldn’t take it anymore—he was strung so tight, so full of pleasure, and Phil slid into him so perfectly, so fast that Dan exploded. His hands dug into Phil’s skin as he jerked underneath him, his arse clenching sporadically around Phil’s cock. Dan couldn’t help moaning because of it, gasping under Phil as he spilled himself all over their stomachs. He wrenched his eyes open, looking up at Phil who was studying him intensely, still fucking into Dan, now soft and sensitive and pliant, now wanting to pull away from the feeling of Phil moving inside him, too much, too much.

With one particularly hard thrust, Phil was coming, groaning into Dan’s neck as he did, holding him tightly against him. Dan was panting, his arse sore and sensitive, Phil’s breath hot on his neck. He pulled out slowly, smiling down at Dan, who let his eyes slip shut.

Dan laid there, winded, his head still spinning, and Phil’s warm skin pressed against him everywhere. He had this embarrassing urge to grab Phil and drag him entirely on top of himself. He just wanted to feel Phil’s weight against him, all over him. He wanted to keep touching Phil, wanted to reach out and run his fingers through Phil’s hair…

“I guess you were right,” Phil said finally, and he sat up a bit, leaning on his elbow. He was wearing that horrible smirk again, the sweet smile and wonder in his eyes from mere moments ago gone without a trace.

“W-what?” Dan stammered unsteadily.

“You were right. About it not meaning anything.”

Dan gaped at Phil, the sky crashing down around him, hitting him, even, as it plummeting to the ground.

“What?” Dan whispered.

“I’d better be getting home. Haven’t fed Charlie yet, you know. Mind if I use the door this time?”

And with that Phil slid out of bed, dragging the blanket with him. He gave Dan’s suddenly exposed body a superficial glance, still wearing that evil smirk, and Dan dragged a pillow over himself modestly. Hadn’t Phil been calling him beautiful not even ten minutes ago?

Without another word, Phil walked out of his room and traipsed through his house. Inexplicably, Dan felt tears rise to his eyes. He waited until he heard the door slam to let himself sniff, his nose already running. The next thing Dan knew, he was crying into the pillow on his lap, sobs wracking his body as he tried to make himself stop. God, Phil Lester didn’t deserve to be cried over. Still, Dan couldn’t believe that he’d managed to have his first time with such an asshole.

Alone and cold, Dan finally felt the ache inside him, left over from their previous activities. Wanting to forget about the horrible events that had transpired, Dan began searching through his spell books immediately. It was while he was doing this that he realized, though Phil had gotten Dan to take the curse off of him, he’d never returned the favor for Dan. So Dan was still very much cursed, as if everything else wasn’t bad enough.

Feeling tears start to fill his eyes for a second time, Dan threw his spell book across the room angrily, feeling a mix of pleasure and annoyance when it had knocked his lamp over and broke it.

—

Dan wanted nothing more than to avoid Phil forever, which was surprisingly hard to do when he was your next door neighbor. The only solution, of course, was to never leave the house again ever. And to duck anytime he saw Phil through the window.

Dan felt ashamed and used. Embarrassment colored his cheeks whenever he so much as thought of Phil and the fact that he’d fallen for his tricks.

As he was preparing tea in his kitchen, Dan saw Charlie the cat climb up over his fence and start foraging around in his plants. He glared glumly at the asshole, but didn’t want to actually chance going outside to return the cat.

Dan had considered trying to use a memory modification potion on himself, but they were wildly unpredictable. Still, Dan thought it might be worth it, if he could avoid thinking about what had happened with Phil ever again.

Dan huffed, realizing that he wouldn’t even be able to make the potion properly anyway. For one thing, he’d actually have to go outside and get the ingredients he needed, some of which had managed to disappear completely, having been consumed by the worst cat in the world. For another, every potion Dan had tried to make recently went sour. He was too distracted. Residual embarrassment seemed soaked in his bones. He felt disgusting, used, and had even half-heartedly browsed online for any nearby selling houses. He didn’t know if he’d be able to manage living next to Phil any longer, even though he truly did love the rest of his neighborhood with all his heart.

He was annoyed with himself. He just wanted to get over it, to stop thinking about it so much, but he couldn’t. He’d cried so often lately that he’d even tried to create a hydrating potion to stop him from becoming so dehydrated all the time, but it hadn’t worked and had had him running to the bathroom to throw it up instead.

Part of the reason Dan was so distraught was because it’d almost been exactly what he’d wanted his first time to be like. Phil had been sweet and caring, had attended to Dan so nicely and made him feel so wonderful. The only thing that was out of place was the fact that he and Phil weren’t in a long, committed, happy relationship—instead they hated each other and Phil had left him immediately afterwards, insulting him all the while.

“Leave,” Dan grumbled to himself, his elbow on the counter and his chin in his palm as he glared at Charlie. The cat acted like it was perfectly innocent, which it most certainly wasn’t. It was sneaking closer and closer to Dan’s back door, ripping entire leaves off some of his most precious plants. “I hate you,” Dan moaned.

Just then, Dan happened to glance to the left. Phil Lester was standing on his own patio, looking around his yard, except he seemed to sense Dan’s stare and he turned, locking eyes with him. Panicking, Dan did the only thing he could thing to do and dropped to the floor, tugging his knees up to his chest tightly. He’d avoided being seen by Phil thus far, fuck! Why’d he have to fail now? Phil was probably laughing at him, delighting in his embarrassment and dancing on the grave of his virginity. Dan wasn’t entirely sure how that was possible, but he was sure Phil was doing it.

Busy sulking, it took Dan a few moments to realizing that he could hear something scratching at his door. Curious, though also suspecting a stupid, plant-maiming cat, Dan crawled along the floor and came to a stop beside the back door. He twitched aside the curtain over the window panes and saw Charlie, one paw in the air, having just scratched Dan’s door.

“Shoo,” Dan told the cat, glaring at him.

“He likes you.”

Dan screeched, pulling the curtains shut and scrambling backwards, having only just realized that behind the cat had been a pair of legs! Practically hyperventilating, Dan rushed up the stairs and into his bedroom. There, he grabbed a suitcase from in his closet and starting shoving things into it. Clothes, shoes, trash—wait, trash? Dan groaned and dumped what he’d packed, ripping new clothes out of his closet instead. He was leaving, dammit!

“Dan, please hear me out,” said a voice that Dan most certainly never wanted to hear again. Dan whipped around, his mouth open in astonishment as he saw Phil standing in his doorway.

“I—what—you broke into my house!”

“Well, your charms were kind of old—”

Dan summoned his spellbook with a muttered word and hastily began flipping through it, murmuring random snatches under his breath, trying to find a hex, a curse, anything!

“Wait, Dan! Just listen to me!”

Deciding that he didn’t care what he did to Phil but knowing he wanted to do something, Dan finally stopped flipping through the pages and starting chanting the first words he saw. He was forced to stop, however, when the book was wrenched from his lap.

“Stop that,” Phil insisted.

“Get out of my house!” Dan demanded. The next thing he knew, Charlie the cat was sneaking into his room through the open door, and Dan growled. “And get that thing out too!”

“He likes you!” Phil persisted.

“I hate you!” Dan snapped, and he jumped to his feet. “Get the fuck out of my house right now, Lester.”

“No,” Phil said, and Dan felt pure rage. It felt like his insides were burning,like he was seeing fire. “Dan, please—I came to say I’m sorry.”

This surprised Dan. “You’re what?”

“I’m sorry,” Phil repeated. “What I did was immature. Really immature. I took that curse off you too, I don’t know if you ever realized. And—well, and I lied to you also. I told you that it meant nothing but... I only said that because I was afraid of how much like something it felt.”

Dan crossed his arms over his chest, gnawing on his lip.

“And,” Phil continued, “I especially shouldn’t have left you after. Not after your first time.”

Dan gaped, offended. “Wh—that wasn’t my first time!” he insisted, his cheeks flushed vibrantly red.

“Dan.” Phil was ignoring him. “I’m really, truly sorry. I shouldn’t have wronged you like that, and I want you to give me a second chance.”

“I don’t want to have sex with you,” Dan hissed, and Phil shook his head.

“Not a second chance for sex,” he said hastily. “Just—to be friends. Or more than, if you were willing. After everything I’ve done. I really like you, Dan. I have for a long time, and I’ve been an idiot.”

“Yes, you have,” Dan agreed, his arms still crossed. Phil bit his lip. “But… I’ll give you a chance. Only because Charlie likes me.”

Phil cheered, rushing forward and pulling Dan into a hug. Dan made a sound of surprise, having to move his arms to avoid having them smushed in between their bodies.

“Can I kiss you Dan?” Phil asked. Surprisingly enough, it was only then that Dan realized they hadn’t kissed during their entire sexual escapade. He’d had sex with this man and he’d never even kissed him.

“Um. Sure,” Dan decided, mainly out of curiosity, and he closed his eyes as Phil pulled away only to softly peck his lips, just barely capturing Dan’s bottom lip between his own.

“Hey Phil?” Dan said.

“Yes?”

“You better keep your cat out of my fucking garden.”

#phan #phanfiction #phanfic #jilliancares #UM im exhausted #i don't know why #gonna fall asleep in approximately two seconds #zzzzzz

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haikyuu-boys-headcanons · 4 years ago

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𝙷𝙰𝙸𝙺𝚈𝚄𝚄 𝙱𝙾𝚈𝚂 - 𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚂𝙴𝚇 𝙼𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚂

hehe, i’m back at it again with one of these long ass posts but this idea’s literally been in my head all day long so here you go !! obvious nsfw warning :)

tw: this whole post is just nsfw and embarrassing to read so read at your own risk >:)

𝙳𝙰𝙸𝙲𝙷𝙸 » during a super intense and loud session, his voice cracked as he asked you “does that feel goOD- good baby?” to this day, he still prays that you couldn’t hear him over the sound of your own moans

𝚂𝚄𝙶𝙰𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙰 » you were riding him and he went to slap your ass, but something went wrong either because you were riding too quickly or he was shaking too much, boy ended up slapping himself in the balls. you’ve never heard that boy scream that loud in your life

𝙰𝚂𝙰𝙷𝙸 » literally pulled out in the middle of sex to get up and rush to the corner of his room to flip around his childhood teddy bears. your just laying there with your tiddies and coochie out waiting for asahi to shield the eyes of mr. wiggles

𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙰𝙺𝙰 » you two were having pretty intense shower sex until tanaka did the number one thing your not supposed to do during shower sex; this muthafucker slipped while holding you. long story short, y’all were okay but just ended up having nasty shower floor sex??

𝙽𝙸𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚈𝙰 » this tiny ass 5′2 man was unconsciously humping your leg while you were both asleep?? his presumably pleasurable wet dream had turned into a sudden nightmare when you literally had to KICK him off you to stop the humping. bad nishinoya, bad!

𝙺𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚈𝙰𝙼𝙰 » came WAYYY too early inside you, but he was too embarrassed to say anything so he just... kept going. sadly, no one had warned kageyama of the intense effects of overstimulation. he was shaking and whimpering so badly behind you to the point where you had to ask him to pull out and bring him a glass of water to calm down

𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙰 » the first time you squirted on him, he just blatantly asked you these exact few words that left you feeling mortified: “did you just piss on me?” nuh uh hinata, this water fountain ain’t yours to drown in anymore >:(

𝚃𝚂𝚄𝙺𝙸𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙼𝙰 » kei was hitting it from the back pretty hard this time, so hard that you were suddenly... on an angle? suddenly, now you two were much closer to the floor than before. the bed ended up collapsing, yes literally collapsing due to kei’s powerful thrusts. worst part is, nobody got to finish since kei dragged you to ikea to grumpily buy a new bedframe. but hey, he bought you ikea meatballs; that shit hits so different

𝚈𝙰𝙼𝙰𝙶𝚄𝙲𝙷𝙸 » one super duper intense night, he passed out the SECOND he came. no matter how much you flicked the temple of his forehead, yamaguchi was dead asleep. you had to literally slap him awake to get him to clean up, you ain’t risking a ranky stanky UTI puthy in the morning

𝙾𝙸𝙺𝙰𝚆𝙰 » kept calling himself a sex machine during the act. i don’t know if it was due to the 6 tequila shots he had beforehand or just his inner ego revealing, whatever it was it was about to make your pussy close

𝙸𝚆𝙰𝚉𝚄𝙼𝙸 » this one time, he kept going in at a weird angle which caused you to repeatedly queef for 7 minutes straight. every time you told him to pull out and go in properly, he laughed and kept going in at that one weird angle!! was your embarrassment a turn on for him?? maybe!! but were you mortified? absolutely!!

𝙼𝙰𝚃𝚃𝚂𝚄𝙽 » i’m sorry to have to be the one to announce this, but this man had the worst case of full blown bush you’ve ever seen. like, he didn’t even try to manscape or anything at all. you ended up begging him to trim just a tiny bit because you weren’t gonna risk choking on a pube whilst your going down on him

𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙸 » rubbed your left labia thinking it was your clit. and he kept doing that. the whole. fucking. time. even when you subtly moved his fingers towards your clit, he just kept going back to the left lip.

𝙺𝚄𝙽𝙸𝙼𝙸 » had the most dry and dull dirty talk you’ve ever heard. like, it’s not even dirty talk at this point; it’s just clean talk. there’s no passion when he talks! he uses the same tone he would use for anyone else at any other moment. to paint the picture, imagine riding kunimi and he’s just there with a furrowed expression like “yup, that feels really good”

𝙺𝚈𝙾𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙸 » tried to pull one of those unexpected anal scenes that he saw from a porno, without telling you beforehand. life lesson here; if you party at shit's house, don't be surprised if shit's at the party

𝙺𝚄𝚁𝙾𝙾 » you two were looking to get a little more kinky in terms of BDSM, so kuroo watched like 30 tutorials on youtube on how to safely tie you up so you won’t fall or anything. this bitch ended up tying rope knots that were practically impossible to undo, which resulted in you hanging from the ceiling for approximately 2 hours pussy-ass naked while kuroo tried to cut you down with a kitchen knife

𝙺𝙴𝙽𝙼𝙰 » wanted to spice things up with some dirty talk, like the real nasty talk they use in pornos but not the normal pornos; the shitty company ones with horrific acting. he really ended up announcing that he was going to “fuck your fucking fanny off, you twat”

𝙻𝙴𝚅 » got super excited while he was opening the lube since he hadn’t gotten to fuck you in a WHILE, which resulted the lube leaked everywhere and a giant 6′5 man slipping and hitting his head on the bed frame. worst part is; he had to go to the ER with a hard on that refused to go away

𝙱𝙾𝙺𝚄𝚃𝙾 » speaking of boners that wouldn’t go away, let’s not forget that one time bokuto took two viagras when you texted him to come over for a special occasion. he horribly misinterpreted the ‘special occasion’ text, because he showed up to your house with a huge buldge in his pants as your parents stand before him holding anniversary cards, completely horrified

𝙰𝙺𝙰𝙰𝚂𝙷𝙸 » wanted to make valentines day sex as romantic as he could, so he did the classic lighting candles and giving roses. everything was beautiful, until he accidently knocked one of the bigger candles over during missionary. this not only caused a huge ass fire in your bedroom, but he came right as the fire began to spread. boy was debating on whether his orgasm was to die for or not

𝙺𝙾𝙽𝙾𝙷𝙰 » had a nose bleed when he was going down on you and you both were immediately horrified, you thinking it was your period and him thinking he just ate coochie blood. yet as you went to go clean up, you realized his face had much more blood on it than your coochie did. to this day, he still blames it on your period

𝚄𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙹𝙸𝙼𝙰 » threw you onto the bed and your head went through the wall. he didn’t even bother to ask you if you were okay, he just sighed and went “well, now i have to make a call to the construction guy. excuse me” and he left you and your concussed ass head sit there once again, pussy ass naked

𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙾𝚄 » during a blowjob, he held your head down right as he was coming causing the cum to shoot up your throat and somehow pour out of your nose. by the time he pulled out, he could barely breath from laughing at you. sure, the classic ‘milk shooting out of nose’ thing was funny at first until you got a sinus infection and had to breath out of your mouth for the next three days

𝚂𝙴𝙼𝙸 » always insists having sex in the most inconvenient places?? like he would pull you to side while grocery shopping and start grinding up against you as you pick which brand of cheese would be better??

𝙶𝙾𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙺𝙸 » he kept getting frustrated that his bangs were clouding his field of vision, so he irritably grabbed a hair tie and frantically tied up the sides of his bangs while he was fucking you. you immediately burst out laughing since he looked exactly like boo from monsters inc.

𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚄𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙼𝙰 » got so drunk that he ended up fucking the couch. like he was just there on top of you, and his dick was just sliding between the folds of the leather couch. you decided to let him finish like that

𝚂𝙰𝙺𝚄𝚂𝙰 » had a really bad reaction to one of the products he used while shaving and ended up getting super irritated down there so he kept having to pull out in-between thrusts to itch his crotch. to make things worse, you joking suggested that he looked like he had syphilis and he got so disgusted at the idea of that thought that he literally had to pull out and take a breather

𝙾𝚂𝙰𝙼𝚄 » drizzled ‘warm’ chocolate down your chest and was about to seductively lick it off until you screamed in pain and horror as the chocolate was literally burning your skin off. osamu panicked, obviously not knowing what to do if chocolate was burning his partners skin off so he just... frantically licked it off. you still had to go to the ER afterwards to get treated for mild burns

𝙰𝚂𝚃𝚄𝙼𝚄 » didn’t know what a hymen was until the first time he tried to have sex with you. no matter how much he tried to shove his schlong in, it really just wasn’t working + “yer puss is broken”

𝚂𝚄𝙽𝙰 » pinched your nipples so fucking hard to the point where you started crying. he thoughts these were tears of pleasure until you literally had to kick him off you. but hey, he gave you ice for your sore nipples and mcdonalds! what more could a girl possibly want :)

uh the end lol

also, this idea was inspired by the first haikyuu headcanon i ever read, “awkward sex moments” by @bbytetsu <3

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idy-ll-ique · 3 years ago

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unlike any other

pairing: mob boss!bucky barnes x maid!f!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut (AH THE HOLY TRINITY)

warnings: mention of blood, mention of wounds,,,,,,,,, sex (but only a lil bit)

requested: nope

word count: 1.8k

summary: bucky barnes, among many things, owns a strip club. y/n works there as a maid, but she has only recently joined so she has no idea who he is. one day, she catches him napping in one of the private rooms after closing time and, not knowing that he owns the place, asks him to leave because it's a "staff only" room. mesmerized by her, he leaves without a word but a few days later, she finds out who he truly is. sparks fly? sparks fly.

author's note: hiya peeps! enjoy!

masterlist

---

James Barnes was tired.

All he wanted to do was go home and get a good night's sleep, but this moron in front of him was proving it to be very difficult. "What aren't you getting about my plan, Johnson?" he growled, a deep glare etched on his face as he disdainfully stared at one of the men who worked for him. "Why are we doing this at all?" Oh, Johnson has quite the mouth on him, can't wait to break all his fucking teeth.

"Are you the boss or am I?" Bucky countered, putting his arms up, exasperated. Johnson was about to reply when Bucky decided he was too tired to deal with him at all. "You know what, how about we talk tomorrow, hm? Leave, now." With an audacious huff, Johnson got up and left the room. As soon as he was gone Bucky groaned loudly.

"That man," he muttered to himself, "Is a fucking idiot. I'm gonna have to talk to Sam tomorrow, why did he even suggest—" Bucky then relaxed back onto the couch he was sitting on, leaning further and further back until he was simply lying down, head resting on the armrest.

James Barnes was tired.

And he needed a fucking nap.

James Buchanan Barnes. He commonly went by the name Bucky, and he ran the biggest, most affluent mob in the city. Currently, he was at a strip club that he owned, which also had private rooms for… basically hooking up, but he never used it for that, using it only to hold meetings with potential allies or his men.

He dozed off on the couch but was able to sleep for only about 30-45 minutes before someone was shaking him awake.

---

“Phew, last room! Why does this place have so many rooms?” Y/N grumbled to herself, opening the door to the private room. She was a maid recently hired by the club, and her job was to clean up all the private rooms after the closing time. They paid her well so she didn’t mind doing the job. When she opened the door, though, she noticed a man sleeping on the couch.

All his clothes were still intact and his hair was also done nicely… She scrutinized him for a while longer, taking note of his handsome, chiselled features and how he dripped of power even when he was asleep. Finally, a few minutes later, she decided to wake him up. However powerful he might seem, the rooms after closing were for staff only and he needed to leave.

“Excuse me, sir?” Y/N gently shook his shoulders, startling him awake. He blinked his eyes open and in his hazy state of mind, he thought there was an angel standing above him. “What?” he yawned and Y/N offered him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, you gotta go, the club is closed for the night and this is a staff-only room,” she told him and he blinked.

She didn’t know him? “I, uh, yeah, I’m sorry,” he complied, sitting up. He took in her appearance as well; she was wearing a cheesy maid’s costume that fit the aesthetic of the strip club perfectly, yet there was a sort of innocence to her, the kind that would make even the most cold-hearted and powerful of them all want to cater to her every whim without question.

“Uh… see ya around,” she raised her eyebrows and Bucky offered her a quick smile, getting out of the room. “Behaving like he owns the place,” Y/N scoffed to herself as she began cleaning up the mess in the room starting with the empty alcohol bottles. She couldn’t stay mad at him for long, though- his handsome face could make anyone’s heart melt. As the thought passed through her head, a small smile bloomed on her face.

Oh stranger, I really hope we meet again soon.

As Bucky drove home, he, too, thought of the maid. Who was she? Why had he never seen her before? And why didn’t she know him? That night, as he went to bed for the second time, all he saw in his dreams was a lovely maid’s costume and a pretty, pearly white smile.

---

“I’m firing that guy,” Bucky told Sam determinedly. A few days had passed since Bucky’s meeting with Johnson and he was more determined than ever to get rid of the guy. Something about Johnson seemed off. “Wh- You hired that guy like a week ago, what happened? He used to work with Pierce and Rumlow before, he can give us valuable intel-”

“What if he never stopped?” Sam quieted at the retort. “He told us how horribly they treated their own men,” Sam answered a little while later. “What if he’s lying?” Bucky asked impatiently. “Give him a chance-” Just then, there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Bucky sighed and Johnson poked his head in. “Got a minute, boss?”

“Oh sure, come in, we were just discussing you! Have a seat!” Sam raised an eyebrow at Bucky’s sudden cheerfulness as Johnson happily bounded into the room, plopping down on the couch. “What were you discussing?” he questioned. “How I was just about to fire you,” Bucky smirked and Johnson’s face fell.

He didn’t speak for a few minutes, causing Sam and Bucky to glance at each other. “Hello…?” All of a sudden Johnson stood up with a fit of rage. “Damn it, Barnes, you ruin everything!” Bucky shouted triumphantly as Sam gasped. “I knew you were a fucking two-timer, you son of a bitch!” Bucky yelled at him. “And you made it so easy!” Johnson laughed dryly.

“Why you-” Bucky swung a punch at Johnson’s face, breaking his nose. “What have you told Pierce?!” Johnson retaliated right back by kicking his knee into Bucky’s abdomen, making him fall back. A fight soon broke out between all three of them, so loud that the commotion could be heard from outside.

Approximately 20 minutes later Y/N, who was passing by the room at the time, heard the loud noise and stopped in her tracks. It sounded like… two people fighting. It wasn’t her cleaning time yet, but she still rushed to the door, opening it up with such force that the door loudly banged on the other side. At this, the fight instantly halted.

Bucky was holding an unconscious Johnson by the collar, his fist an inch away from Johnson’s jaw. Both of them looked pretty beaten up, with blood all over their faces and clothes. Sam, meanwhile, was half-lying on the couch, clutching the side of his abdomen with a pained look on his face. Y/N’s hands flew to her mouth at the sight of them.

That was when she recognized the man from a few days ago. Oh shit, he does own the place. Bucky immediately got up and dusted his suit, staring down at a passed-out Johnson with a sneer. “Sam, take him to Wanda, she’ll know what to do with him. And please, for the love of God, go to the hospital.” With the help of a few others, Sam and Johnson left.

It was only Bucky and Y/N in the room now. She continued staring at his face in horror and Bucky chuckled, wiping away a trail of blood near his lips. “That bad?” She snapped out of her trance. “You…” Bucky gave her a wry smile. “Bucky Barnes at your service. And you are?” Y/N blinked a few times before answering. “Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.” Bucky looked around.

“Well, Y/N, if you’d be so kind as to fetch me a first aid kit.” She instantly walked out of the room and got the first aid kit for him. When she returned to the room, Bucky was sitting on the couch, his jacket and shirt removed. Even his torso was covered in black and blue bruises. "It looks bad," she blurted out.

"Will you help me clean up?" Y/N couldn't deny him. He was her boss, after all. She sat down next to him and wordlessly started cleaning the blood off his face. He didn't so much as flinch, which Y/N found to be extremely impressive. After all the blood was cleaned, Y/N grimaced when she saw his broken nose. "Your, um, your nose…" Bucky easily grabbed his nose in both hands and clicked it into place.

Y/N flinched badly at the action, making Bucky laugh. "Come on, princess, it's not that difficult," he teased her and she shook her head, a smile blooming on her face. "So, um, I'm sorry about that day," she mumbled as Bucky kept the first aid kit away. "Sorry? For doing your job? Don't do that."

She looked up at him. "No, I- I should've known it was you, and I just… maybe I could've been more polite-"

"Sorry, you gotta go, the club is closed for the night and this is a staff-only room," Bucky quoted verbatim, "You couldn't have been more polite." Y/N's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and she shuffled her feet. "Please don't fire me," she whispered under her breath, yet Bucky managed to hear her. And when an opportunity presents itself…

"On one condition."

She looked up at him, wide-eyed and nodded excitedly. "Anything you want." Bucky smirked and sat back down next to her, placing his hand on her bare thigh. "Go on a date with me," he breathed out, leaning close to her. Y/N's breath and heart rate hitched at his forwardness, but she didn't have the will to deny him.

He was good-looking, he was rich, he was polite, why not give it a try? Y/N offered him a small smile. "Um, okay, I'd like that a lot," she agreed truthfully and Bucky grinned, pressing his lips to hers without wasting a moment. Y/N kissed him back, cupping his face with her hands.

In the heat of the moment, Bucky bent forward until the back of Y/N's head touched the armrest; still, they didn't pull away from each other. Bucky sneakily got his hand under Y/N's blouse, the skin on skin contact making them both groan. "Ugh, you really are very pretty, you know?" Bucky whispered as he unbuttoned her blouse and threw it away.

He stared in awe at her bra-covered breasts, his shaft twitching impatiently. But, just as he was about to unbuckle her bra, the door swung open. Bucky immediately hid Y/N under him and looked up at a horror-struck Sam, who ran out of the room screaming, "At least lock the door next time, asshole!"

Y/N giggled when she saw Bucky's flustered face. "He's right, you know," she whispered cheekily and Bucky playfully narrowed his eyes at her, attacking her neck with kisses and love bites.

"Talk to me like that again and you'll be in for a long night, pretty face."

"Oh, I'd like to see you try, boss."

---

a/n: thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed it!

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fahbev · 2 years ago

Photo

@whumper-in-training

ok I don’t know how long my caption is allowed to be, but here it is! The promised fan art! I REFUSE to be self-deprecating here because I actually do like these a lot. Basically, I read this amazing story called ACP- The Agency for Cryptids and the Paranormal, (https://whumper-in-training.tumblr.com/post/673130936584568832/acp-the-agency-for-cryptids-and-the) and I totally fell in love with the character of Zak. This STORY MAN! It broke my heart in half and then lovingly stitched it back together, like multiple times, and I think that’s the ESSENCE of a good story. So yeah I made fan art.

I was in the car on a fairly long trip, and I had my sketchbook, and I was like, hey, what should I draw? Fuck it i’m drawing Zak. So I drew Zak. I originally didn’t want to deal with how the hoodie would work with all the weird perspective and just gave him a tee-shirt, but then I yelled at myself: “COWARD! Draw the hoodie!” And so I erased the shirt and drew a hoodie. I figure that the hoodie in the picrew isn’t how the hoodie actually looks, it’s just the closest approximation you can get with a picrew, so I put an alien on it because yes. While I was drawing it though, I hit a fork in the road with the pose. I was going to draw him with his hand clawed and the other on his hip, but then I was like “what if he had his arm up instead?” And so I made two versions.

I drew werewolf Zak hell ya! I spent FOREVER inking this. Okay if was only like two hours, but inking is kinda boring and thus I procrastinated, and so it took me like three days to ink it. It took much longer than usual Bc I went over each line a bunch of times to make it look like fur/hair/eyelashes, but you can’t even see it Bc the colors are so dark! Argh! Usually color more than doubles the amount of time I spend on a drawing, but this time I just quickly threw down some color in only like an hour! I was so sure I was gonna say, “it’ll be quick” and then spend another six hours on it, because that ALWAYS happens, but it actually WAS quick so yes.

Last but not least, I drew the gang all together! Technically I drew this second, and colored it first, but you get the idea! This drawing filled me with all the happy chemicals the whole time making it y’all. After several hours it kinda wore off, but every time I zoomed in on Max’s face I got a fresh rush of serotonin. I decided to draw that one scene where they all fall asleep together because it was SO WHOLESOME! I wanted to draw the whole group, but didn’t know what kind of context to do. Then I scrolled through the blog, found that scene, reread it and was like “yes! That’s the one!”. And so I drew it. I did have to look up “do Muslim women sleep with their hijabs on?” And i’m glad it was a google search and not asking a real person Bc the response I found was basically: “No, you dumbass! Why would we do that? That makes no sense-” and several sarcastic responses to the same question on Quora and i’m just like: “:’D” I did look into it a bit more and realized the hijab has to stay on Bc while they are like family, they’re still not her mahrams. Also I figure that if I was gonna post this, even if she was alone, drawing her without it would kinda be violating her privacy yk? Like i’m exposing her for the whole internet to see. Kinda like drawing her naked would be. Anyway, I love this drawing, hope you love it too!

Ok, still keep your expectations to an army crawl because I never finish stuff, but fanfic is in the works. I am probably gonna wait until it’s finished to post it though, that way I can edit things and change earlier chapters. Also! I’m a total novice writer! So it’s probably crap! I don’t care! I have this policy that I would always rather make the cringe fanfic, wear the ugly clothing, make the stupid drawings, the cursed memes, shout all the embarrassing shit, do all the dumb things that teenagers do (as long as it’s not harmful or permanent obvi), sing all the bad karaoke, embarrass myself a TON, etc, and regret it later, cringe so hard in ten years, than to never let myself do anything, constantly hold back, never reach my full potential and regret THAT in ten years. Thank you for listening to my TED Talk. I still might very well be too shy to post it though ahhhhh. For some reason i’m WAY more shy online than irl, that makes no sense. Like I can walk up to a random person and talk to them no prob, but I get super anxious going in someone’s ask box. Maybe Bc I can’t read their body and face language like that? Idk. Like I said, just don’t expect anything.

#not tagging this bc I kinda don’t want anyone to see-

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yoichichi · 3 years ago

Text

How They Cuddle

karasuno x reader

warning(s): none ! :)

a/n: some sweet luv for the hq boys :) I’m planning on doing a part for the other fandoms I write for too - aot, bnha, & jjk - as well as the rest of the hq teams/characters - so keep an eye out if you’d like! And as always I love interacting w you guys :) feel free to leave comments/flood my inbox :D!

characters: daichi, asahi, sugawara, nishinoya, tanaka, yamaguchi, tsukishima, kageyama, hinata, yachi, & kiyoko

Daichi

He’s a hugger for sure! If you’re on your phone, or reading, or doing anything before bed he’s snuggling up behind you and resting his head on your shoulder to watch what you’re doing - he’s nosey like that. Anyways, being the big spoon is a very convenient cuddling position for that, and he gets to wrap you up and hold you close <3

Through the night though he slowly scoots down off his pillow in his sleep, so when you wake up his face is nuzzled into the middle of your upper back with his arms still squeezing around your midsection so tight you know you’d have to wake him up to get him to let go 😭 he’s also for sure a light snorer, but it’s ok he makes up for it by being cute or whtv 🙄

Asahi

Another spooner! He’s not particularly bias to being the big or little spoon but he just can’t face you 😭

There’s a few reasons: 1) it makes him freak out and it’s like he can feel your eyes on him even if they’re closed. He’ll be constantly peeking one eye open to look at your face and he’s half scared he’s gonna open them and you’re gonna be staring at him like 👁👁 LMAO

2) the breath on his face tickles too much and will eventually start to irritate him and he gets pouty cause it makes it tough to sleep

And 3) what if he’s making a weird face in his sleep and you wake up to see it 😭

So spooning for the win it is

Sugawara

I don’t think he’d be a big fan of being held, it makes him feel too claustrophobic and he’d feel kinda bad moving you off of him if he had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night :( I also think he tosses n turns a bit while sleeping so holding him wouldn’t be the best option anyways, however!

He likes touching/lightly intertwining legs - one reason is because you can kind of get away with it from any angle but still find a comfortable position that suits you, the other reason is because his feet get cold in the middle of the night and this is the easiest way to steal your warmth

Nishinoya

Ok ok, so I know it’s cliche - but I do think he’s a teensy bit too excited for bedtime cuddles! Not in a restless way, he’s just too excited with the act of actually cuddling you, like every time. Day cuddles are different! When the two of you have some alone time and he’s snuggled up with you on the couch, leaving a bunch of kisses (his favorite are Eskimo kisses), periodically grabbing your face so your lips pucker and leaving a dramatic kiss there after he talks about how cute you are (“oh my god you’re so adorable I could crush you ☹️🥺”), and then squeezing you so tight sometimes your back even cracks, it’s fine! You’re not trying to sleep so it’s just sweet Noya doting on you - but you can see how this would be a problem when y’all are tryna get some shut eye 😭

Solution: back to back, but touching so you can still feel each other’s closeness <3, bonus: every time Noya becomes aware your guys’ butts are touching he giggles and wiggles a little until you remind him it’s time to sleep 😭

Tanaka

Ok but he needs to have a hand on your ass and not even in a sexual way 😪🤚🏼 he just grabs on naturally or rests his hand there and sometimes lovingly pats it when he kisses your cheek before either going back to falling asleep or being on his phone or smth :)

He also loves burying his face in your neck, it just feels so soothing to him and he also finds your smell so relaxing and makes him feel all warm inside! Like when he sees you after a long day he loves wrapping you up in a big hug and leaving kisses in the crook of your neck and burying his face there cause he just missed you sm <3

Yamaguchi

Very much like Hinata he also adores being intertwined with you!! He finds it particularly comforting with your face buried in his chest or neck while he has his legs wrapped up with yours. He thinks it’s the best position to lean down and press a kiss to the top of your head (his favorite kind of sweet kiss), which he always does right before he feels himself drifting off to sleep.

He also likes rubbing your back/neck this way until you fall asleep, or while you talk about anything you wanna talk about. Waking up this way is also his favorite, and if you guys have moved in your sleep, you bet he’s pulling you back into a hug. He periodically squeezes you in his arms, leaves feather light kisses to your shoulder, runs his hands up and down your back, sure you probably won’t be asleep for much longer now with all this movement, but he just can’t help it with how sweet you look sleeping! Don’t worry though he’ll keep up the soothing while you wake up and talk about your dreams and what you want for breakfast :)!

Tsukishima

Not much of a cuddly guy throughout the day but when bedtime rolls around you bet your ass he’s expecting some kind of physical affection. His favorite is when he lays on his back with his arm out so you can nuzzle into his side, and once you’re all comfortable he wraps said arm around you to pull you in close.

Your favorite is when he runs his hand up and down your side or draws little designs with his fingers on any exposed skin. His favorite is when you bring your face up to rest in the crook of his neck or rest your head on his chest, any light kisses you leave or the breath that puffs out of you and hits his neck every now and then never fails to give him goosebumps and make him blush.

Kageyama

I don’t think he’s particularly ~stiff cuddling with you but I definitely think it’s not his forte when it comes to bed time! He just finds a comfortable spot - usually on his side or back - and that’s that! He’s found it and is gonna be out in approximately 2 minutes, but he does love feeling you in bed next to him :(

A good compromise he’s decided is reaching his hand out next to him him so he can hold onto your hand while he sleeps, or being the little spoon! It actually feels super comforting to him to feel you all cuddled up to his back and keeping him warm no matter if you’re bigger or smaller than him <3 he also loves the way he has to pry your arms off of him when he has to get up in those early mornings, or the way he feels your face squish up against his back sometimes, he just loves you.

Hinata

He definitely gets hot in his sleep but he love love loves cuddling with you, so you’ll always start off wrapped up in each other somehow. Usually face to face with your legs intertwined cause he thinks talking to each other about any and everything is a good way to wind down before bed - and I mean anything. Sometimes it’s just him asking you odd questions he’s been thinking about recently before one of you remembers you can google it

But no matter how you two fall asleep at first, you always wake up clinging onto his sprawled out body (probably because he’s kicked the blanket onto the floor and you got chilly in your sleep) or far away from him with all the blanket to yourself as he peacefully snores beside you <3

Yachi

Play with her hair and she’s KNOCKED 100%! She also loves either holding you or being held, but there’s got to be SOME kind of holding going on for her heart to feel full <333

She’s also the queen of surprise hugs from behind once you’ve been together for a fair bit and she feels more comfy being publicly affectionate with you! And if you do the same to her it never fails to make her smile or cover her face cause she’s blushing from surprise

“(Y/n)!! You startled me!” And now you have a very excited & giggly gf 😽😽

Kiyoko

I personally see her as a pretty religious back sleeper so the most ideal position is you in her side or you laying between her legs while she holds you and your head is resting on her chest. PERSONALLY she prefers the second one but she leaves it up to you <3

She just thinks it’s most ideal how she could reach down and trace her fingers lightly on the side of your face; or play with your hair if she’s able to; or rub your neck, back, and shoulders to ease any stress from your day. She’s a big giver of private affection and thinks it’s so cute when you’re so tuckered out you she wakes up with a little drool on her shirt. Not to mention your weight and warmth is super comforting to her ! And even if she wouldn’t admit it, she likes being able to use not wanting to move and wake you as an excuse to get 5 more minutes of you cuddling with her.

————————

Ahhhh hehehehe I hope you like and comments and all that jazz are always appreciated!! Big smooches :)

taglist: @plutowrites @sweet-darling91

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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years ago

Text

Play Pretend

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: ~4170

Warnings: I don’t think there are any? Some language. Egregious amounts of fluff. A blanket fort and a Star Trek onesie. Gratuitous descriptions of Spencer Reid’s bone structure, because apparently I can’t help myself.

A/N: For the “treat yo’ self” square on my @cmbingo card, and also for @railmereid‘s 2k challenge! Prompt for the latter is bolded.

It’s been a godawful case, and in the BAU, that’s saying something. At least nobody ended up in the hospital this time? But as you all troop onto the jet in a straggly line of wrinkled clothes and puffy eyes, that’s about the brightest spot you can find in this whole fucking week.

As you get settled, though, Hotch clears his throat. “Your attention, please. We’re taking a long weekend, Strauss’s orders.”

“Oh thank god,” you mutter under your breath.

“Once we get back and grab our things, you are not to return to the office for a full seventy-two hours.” Hotch looks sternly (well, even more sternly) at Spencer, who’s on the couch next to you, curling up for a nap. “Understood? And you are not allowed to take case files home, Reid. I mean it this time.”

“Understood,” he says grouchily. You can’t help but laugh at the pout on his face.

“Seriously?” you ask.

He shrugs, lips quirking up like he does actually realize what a ridiculous human being he is. “I have many talents, but ‘taking it easy’ is not one of them.” He does the air quotes, even.

“All those PhDs and you never got a degree in relaxation?”

“That’s not—” He realizes you’re teasing and grins. “No. No I did not. I just… never really know what to do with myself, I guess?”

“Shocking.”

“What are you going to do, then?”

“I am going to have a treat yo’ self day,” you declare proudly.

“A what?”

“You know, like in Parks and Rec?” He gives you a blank look. “No, you totally don’t know. Of course you don’t. But there’s this one episode where two of the characters have a ‘treat yo’ self’ day, and they go shopping and get, like, really self-indulgent things that they wouldn’t ordinarily buy themselves.”

He frowns. “You’re going shopping all weekend? You’ve never struck me as a particularly materialistic person.”

“Fuck, no. It’s more about indulging in experiences. Self-care. Things that make me feel relaxed. Just… whatever makes me happy.”

“Like what?” He still has this totally puzzled look on his face, with his nose wrinkled up. It’s so much more endearing than it has any right to be.

“I like painting. I’m not good at it, but I like it, so I’m gonna get some new paints and a big canvas and make a mess, because it makes me happy.”

“Huh.”

“What about you, then? What do you do to relax?”

“That’s… a good question, honestly.”

“Well, what’s your idea of a perfect day?”

Maybe it shouldn’t surprise you that self-care is a foreign concept to him. You wait patiently as he overthinks it.

“Perfect seems unrealistic,” he concludes wryly.

“So, like, remember when you were a kid and you walked into a really awesome toy store?” you prompt. “Just feeling that sort of carefree, giddy kind of happy?”

“Not really.” He shrugs.

“What did make you feel like that, though?” you ask. “When you were younger? There had to be something.”

“I think I just — I didn’t do much normal kid stuff.” He lets out a huff of a laugh and runs his hands through his messy curls, suddenly self-conscious. “Didn’t get to play pretend, or… I don’t know. Didn’t have time.”

“Right,” you say softly. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

You nod, throat suddenly tight. “Yeah. Get some sleep, Spencer. Sweet dreams.”

He gives you a tired half-smile and tugs his blanket up to his chin, tucking his hands under his cheek, and the dark hollows under his eyes are hidden by his long lashes as he falls asleep almost immediately. You need to rest too, but it takes you a while; you sneak a glance at him every so often, feeling that twist under your breastbone that happens all too often when you’re around Spencer.

By the time the jet lands, though, you have a plan.

* * * * *

You second-guess your plan approximately a thousand times on your way over to Spencer’s the next morning. When you get to his door, you almost convince yourself to walk away before you manage to knock; is this totally presumptuous? Is Spencer going to think you’re ridiculous? Is the whole thing just plain stupid?

Then again, you were stupid enough to fall for Spencer in the first place, so. What’s another stupid decision on top of that whole mess?

When he opens the door, he’s wearing pajama pants, a t-shirt, and a phenomenally hideous bathrobe, and he’s all messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, and for a moment you’re panicking because oh shit I woke him up. It’s almost noon, to be fair, but he did have some serious sleep to catch up on. Then you notice the coffee mug in his hand, and after a moment of relief, that morphs into more of a oh shit he’s so fucking beautiful type of panic.

You’re used to that, though.

Then you realize he’s staring at you, smiling but puzzled, and you haven’t explained yourself. Oops.

“Um. Trick or treat yourself day?” you blurt out, hoisting your shopping bags and giggling at your own lame joke. “I… brought you something. Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you — I should’ve texted, I just—”

“You’re always a good surprise,” Spencer says shyly, and then seems to shake himself. “Come in. Sorry. Coffee?”

“Please.”

You set down your shopping bags and follow him to the kitchen, where he fixes you a mug of your own — exactly how you like it, because of course he remembers. Then he takes a couple deep gulps of his own sugar-sludge and tops it up, and by the time you go back out to the living room, he’s starting to look vaguely awake.

“What’s all this about?” he finally asks, head cocked to look curiously at the bags.

“Well,” you start slowly. Now that you have to say it out loud, it sounds even more stupid. “I was thinking a treat yourself day would be a lot more fun with company, and it seems like… maybe you’re overdue for some of that? For… self-indulgence, and just, like, enjoying yourself without worrying. And you deserve it. So. You wanna?”

His eyes are soft and bright, oddly vulnerable, and a smile spreads slowly across his face, twitchy at the edges like he’s not sure he’s allowed to smile yet.

“Really? I don’t know what to do, though.”

“Well, I have some ideas about that. But first, you gotta make a deal with me.” The way he’s beaming makes you feel a whole lot more confident as you tell him, very seriously, “This is the sacred covenant of treat yourself day. You have to solemnly swear to do whatever you want. Anything you can dream up. Indulge every whim. Take an oath to give in to every one of your silly, random, frivolous desires, without any form of self-denial or doubt. Can you do that, Spencer?”

“I can try,” he says, and his voice cracks. It’s like he can’t shape the words, with the way his smile has taken over his entire face.

“Okay, good enough. And… I have a few ideas.”

“Like what?”

You shrug. “Like… some things I thought maybe you didn’t get to do as a kid? Here, let me—”

You rummage until you find what you were looking for, and then you turn around, holding it out like an offering. Spencer’s mouth drops open.

“Is that a Captain Kirk costume?” he asks squeakily.

“It’s a Captain Kirk onesie,” you correct. “And it’s for you.”

“Holy—”

He shucks the bathrobe and sets down his coffee hastily, and he’s zipping the onesie up before you can say “Beam me up,” looking down at himself with this joy on his face, totally giddy in a way you’ve never seen him before, and holy hell, even if he hates the rest of your ideas, this will be one hundred fifty percent worth it for the memory of that smile on Spencer’s face.

“I have one too,” you admit, and pull your Chewbacca onesie out of your backpack. Once you’re both appropriately attired, you tell him, “Next order of business is cartoons.”

“I don’t actually have TV?” he says apologetically. “I mean, I have a TV, but it’s only for —”

You grin. “I came prepared, though!”

Spencer’s the only person you know who still has a VHS player, but you’ve been holding onto some things you rescued from your parents’ attic a while back; you find your VHS of Tom & Jerry cartoons and wave it at him triumphantly.

“I’ve never watched that before.” He examines the cover, bemused.

“It’s essential viewing.”

“Okay,” he says slowly.

While he performs whatever arcane ritual makes his ancient TV work (there’s like a rain dance and an animal sacrifice involved, you’re pretty sure) you settle on the couch, nesting in all the blankets and sipping your coffee contentedly. Spencer presses play and sits down next to you, but you can feel his uncertainty; he’s holding himself stiffly, and he keeps sneaking glances at you.

“Spit it out,” you tell him, a few minutes in. “If you hate it, you can just say so, Spence. I won’t take it personally.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that! I just — is this really how you want to spend your Saturday?”

“What do you mean?” You have a Chewbacca onesie, a perfect cup of coffee, and great company; you’re not entirely sure how this could get any better.

“Doing nothing,” he mumbles. “This is… there are so many things you could be doing. Don’t you have a whole list of things you wanted to do? But instead… I don’t know. You’re here. With me.”

Sometimes you want to scream until he realizes how awesome he is, but the screaming is probably not the best way to convey that particular message.

Instead, you keep your voice very quiet as you tell him, “There is absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”

It’s a little too true. Your cheeks burn as you turn back to the TV, trying not to dwell on the way you can see him watching you in your peripheral vision.

“Okay,” he says hoarsely. He settles himself more comfortably into the blanket nest, and before long, he’s giggling along with you.

You watch in peaceful silence for a little while, but at some point, Spencer’s stomach growls, and you pause the tape to make food — chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream, as per his verdict on “ultimate treat food.” As it turns out, he knows a lot about the science of cooking, but not a whole lot about the actual practice, so he sits cross-legged in a chair and directs you to various cabinets as you measure and mix and whisk. When you get the batter poured out on the griddle, he’s pattering on about the chemical differences between baking soda and baking powder.

He looks utterly dismayed when the first chocolate chip hits his forehead. Turns out his lack of hand-eye coordination applies to mouth-eye coordination too, and the floor is littered with semi-sweet projectiles before he actually catches one, but he’s laughing, so you really can’t bring yourself to care.

The pancakes are a total success. When you’re both stuffed and sugar-high, you grab the syrupy plates and bring them to the sink for a quick rinse.

“You don’t have to,” Spencer protests. You ignore him. His next words are much softer, scratchy and hoarse: “Thank you. I don’t — just — thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” you say briskly. Then you turn around, and you freeze, because he’s a whole lot closer than you thought he was; he’s right there, close enough that you could reach out and run your fingers through his hair, or trace the sharp line of his jaw.

He has a tiny streak of whipped cream at the corner of his mouth, right where his lips curl up as he smiles, and for a second you can barely breathe with how much you want to stand up on your tiptoes and see if he tastes as sweet as he looks.

For a second he looks like he wants you to. He’s frozen too, for a moment, and you can hear his breath catch, but then he scoops you up in a hug, squeezing tight. And yeah, it’s just friendly, but it’s a hug from Spencer, and that happens rarely enough that it feels like a treat of its own, so you go with it, forehead pressed to his shoulder, heart racing.

When he releases you, you tell yourself you’re not disappointed.

“Right,” you say, bossy to cover how flustered you feel. “Back to business.”

“I think I need more practice sitting still,” Spencer confesses, following you back out to the couch. “It feels weird just… not doing anything.”

You pause, deliberating. “Well, we could keep our hands busy?”

With a quick rummage, you produce paint and an extra large pad of paper, holding them up for Spencer’s inspection. He frowns.

“I don’t have any paintbrushes.”

“They’re finger paints,” you say, grinning, and he laughs.

“Of course they are.”

You set everything up on the coffee table while Spencer presses play, and the two of you sit down on the floor, side by side. Spencer looks down at his onesie, then at the paint, frowning.

“It’s all washable, Spencer.”

“Still,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to take it off, but —”

He unzips the onesie halfway, peeling the arms off and letting the fabric bunch up around his waist.

“There we go, putting that genius brain to work,” you tease, but you’re touched that he cares enough about your present to worry about stains.

It’s hard to ignore how close you’re sitting. You do your best, keeping your eyes on either the TV or your masterpiece of Abstract Expressionism, but Spencer’s knee is pressed to yours, a constant warm pressure, and your hands keep brushing as you both reach for containers of paint, and you can smell him, like vanilla and maybe old books. The whole thing has you feeling flushed.

Other than that, though, it’s comfortable. It’s always been easy to talk to Spencer, which makes sense considering how much he knows about every subject imaginable, but it surprises you sometimes how easy it is not to talk to him, too. Silence isn’t awkward, with him. Neither of you say anything for the next hour or so. You just giggle at the TV and paint, wordless and companionable, and it’s the happiest you’ve felt in… longer than you care to admit.

Life is rarely perfect, especially not in your line of work, but this? This is pretty close.

As the credits start to play, you stretch, and then you look at his paper. It takes you a second to recognize yourself, but the likeness is unmistakable. Spencer’s got the exact angle of your eyebrow when you’re looking at him skeptically — apparently you do that often enough that he’s memorized the expression. He somehow managed to capture your smile, the curve of your lips, all in tiny delicate pinky-strokes of purple and turquoise… trust Dr. Spencer Reid to bring that level of precision to finger-painting, and oh god you are not going to think about his fingers any more.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” you manage. You clear your throat. “Yeah, I really do.”

Then he makes it worse by rubbing the side of his neck, bashful and self-conscious, smearing blue-green paint from his collarbone to the sharp line of his jaw, and he’s so busy smiling at you that he doesn’t seem to notice. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple dips, shifting a streak of color, making it flicker. It’s such a silly thing, but it draws your attention to his skin — makes you want to touch. Worst of all, it reminds you that he’s already art, that the shape of him, the delicate precise way he’s put together, is more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen in a museum.

It reminds you that you want some things you can never, ever have.

“You’ve got — um,” you say, gesturing helplessly. He blinks at you, slow like he’s coming out of a trance, and tucks his hair behind his ear, smearing more paint there before he remembers. You giggle, sharp and nervous, and it breaks the tension all at once. Spencer laughs too, rolling his eyes at himself. You get up clumsily to go grab a wet paper towel from the kitchen.

The moment is gone, but your heart is still racing.

“What’s next?” Spencer asks softly, once you’re both cleaned up.

He missed a tiny spot; there’s a blue smudge right at the corner of his jaw, and you want to touch it, feel it under your fingertips, see if the skin is as soft as it looks, right there where the bone stretches it thin.

“Blanket fort,” you blurt out, before you can do anything embarrassing.

His eyes light up.

It really shouldn’t surprise you that Spencer and his engineering PhD make quick work of a pile of sheets and clothespins. You’re pretty sure that he could revolutionize the entire field of blanket fort construction, if left to his own devices, but you keep poking him when he gets lost in his head or starts muttering calculations to himself. The point is having fun.

The end result is a lot more Frank Lloyd Wright than any of your childhood creations, but Spencer looks absolutely gleeful, so. It’s the spirit of the thing.

“One more thing,” you say. “Do you have any Christmas lights?”

Spencer frowns. “I don’t — oh! Wait!”

He runs to the closet, and he ends up halfway inside the closet, digging around on his hands and knees. You’re about to make a crack about Narnia when he comes out, holding up a box with a triumphant smile.

You read the label: “Halloween decorations 3 of 4.”

Because of course Spencer Reid has Halloween lights. He pulls out several long ropes of them; a couple are shaped like tiny skulls, one is strung with Jack-o-Lanterns, and two could pass as Christmas lights if they weren’t orange and purple. You help him detangle the knot of them and drape them over and through your fort, and when you turn out the normal lights and draw his heavy curtains, the whole thing glows in patches of orange and purple and white.

“After you,” you tell Spencer, and he crawls in without any more prompting.

There’s more than enough room to sit up, but Spencer is lying down on his back in the nest of blankets and pillows that you’d relocated from the couch. He’s staring up at the “ceiling” in silence, eyes glittering with some unreadable expression where they catch the twinkling shards of light. You make yourself comfortable next to him, looking up and wondering what he’s seeing.

“I always wondered what the appeal was,” he whispers. “Of blanket forts. And… childhood in general, I guess.”

“You grew up pretty fast, huh?” you say quietly.

“Yeah. And I never — I feel like most of the team doesn’t take me seriously sometimes. Like I’m still a kid to them. I always feel like I have to prove myself.”

Your instinct is to deny it automatically, but you know what he means. They laugh him off for his quirks, for the way he gets excited about things and for the things he gets excited about. That’s what’s so incredible about him, though: that dichotomy of knowledge and curiosity, the breathless excitement when he makes a discovery.

“I liked pretending I had my own little world,” you tell him. “Blanket forts. Felt like I could actually shut all the bad things out.”

“Still feels like that,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Nothing wrong with acting like a child, sometimes. We need that. Even if it’s just pretend.”

“I think I get it now.”

“Hmm?”

He’s silent for a long moment before he says, “In here, everything’s perfect.”

“Or we can pretend it is.”

You turn your head to find Spencer looking at you, and he doesn’t look away when your eyes meet. You barely want to blink for fear of breaking whatever spell you’re under.

There’s something raw and earnest and almost scared shining all over his face, like you’re catching a glimpse of the child he used to be, before the world taught him to put on a brave face and keep his most intense feelings to himself. It makes you feel shaky in ways you were really not prepared for.

There’s a heavy moment of silence. You’re painfully aware of how loud your breathing sounds.

It’s a hell of a thing, to have his focus like this. You fell in love with him watching him work; you know how intensely he can devote himself to a task, to a puzzle, to a map… and every so often, when the two of you talk, he focuses all that brilliance on you, and he listens so completely that you feel his attention like a spotlight.

That’s when he usually looks away, dropping his gaze like it’s something to be embarrassed about, because too many people have told him to stop staring.

He’s not looking away now. He turns onto his side to completely face you, curling up in that sweetly childish way with his hands between his cheek and the pillow, and you mirror him.

“Feels like we’re alone.”

He’s right; there are no distractions, no excuses to be made, no interruptions. It’s just the two of you, and it’s terrifying.

“Feels safe,” you whisper, because that’s true too. Your heart is racing, and it’s like you can hear your pulse in your ears, but it’s the quietest sort of panic you’ve ever felt. “I think that was exactly what I wanted, after the last couple weeks. To get away. To feel safe.”

There’s an orange light throwing most of his face into shadow, but you can see the corner of his mouth a little too clearly. You’re maybe a foot apart. It would be so easy —

“We don’t get that often.” His voice is barely more than a breath.

“Safety?”

“That too, but —” His breath hitches, and he clears his throat. “What we want. I don’t usually get what I want, but this was — this was very close to perfect.”

“Yeah, well, when is life ever perfect?” You manage a smile. “What would make it perfect? If you could have anything.”

“It’s not something I can have, though.”

“So pretend. It’s just us, and there are no rules today. What would it be?”

He bites his lip. “I don’t think —”

“For once in your life, Spencer, stop overthinking it,” you half-laugh, and then he’s propping himself up on one elbow, shifting forward, leaning closer, close close close until he’s all you can see, and —

He kisses you.

It’s the most gentle, feather-light brush of a kiss you’ve ever felt, barely more than a graze of his parted lips over yours. It’s there, and then it’s gone again before you can even begin to process the sensation.

As your eyes flutter open you can already see the fear setting in, dark intense gaze fixed on you as he inhales sharply.

You’re still trying to remember how to breathe; you’re too stunned to react beyond blinking at him.

“I’m sorry. Can we just —” He shakes his head, hand over his mouth like he’s trying to hold onto the kiss. “Do you think we could pretend — can we pretend I didn’t do that? I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t want to pretend,” you say shakily.

He stares.

This doesn’t seem real. It’s such a strange moment that you might as well be trapped in a Dali canvas. There’s fingerpaint on his face, and he’s wearing a Captain Kirk command uniform onesie, and there’s a tiny Jack-o-Lantern glowing over his head. If you’d imagined the “perfect” moment, this would not be it.

But you reach out, running your fingertips over the dark smudge of paint on his jaw, and the skin is hot and smooth. He shivers at the touch. It’s real.

“Spencer?” Your throat is tight, but you manage a choked, “I want you to kiss me again.”

He does, with a careful hand cupped to your cheek and a smile curling his lips when they meet yours. You run your fingers through his hair, and you both laugh when they catch on dried paint.

“Perfect,” he whispers.

It really is.

#renswritingchallenge #cmbingo21 #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #cm fic #criminal minds #spencer reid

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babymetaldoll · 4 years ago

Text

Nemesis (Spencer Reid/Reader)

Requested: Can I request a Spencer x reader where they’re dating and she’s always been quiet about her past but then a case comes up in her hometown and her whole past gets uncovered and it’s pretty bad. That’s when they realize why she had been acting like that.

Summary: A case takes the team back to Seattle, (Y/N)’s hometown, only to discover her past was darker than they had ever imagined.

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader

Warnings: This one is dark. Angst, bloody crime details, Criminal Mind usual content, fluff at the end ‘cos I can’t help it. Also, cursing but that’s just how I roll.

Word count: 2,7K

Masterlist

It was obvious there was something wrong with (Y/N). Spencer could see it clearly, though she kept telling him everything was ok. It was easy to read her after working together for five years and dating the last two.

Reid knew he shouldn’t profiler his girlfriend, but he couldn’t help it when he saw the painful expression on her face. She tried to smile when she noticed he was looking at her, but that just made it worse ‘cos now he was sure there was something awfully wrong with her.

She wasn’t like that when they woke up. She had spent the night over in his apartment, and she looked happy. She made hotcakes for breakfast, and they laughed the whole way to Quantico, talking about the movie they had seen the night before.

But everything changed the second they received the information of the serial killer they had to catch.

When Garcia presented the case, Spencer noticed how his girlfriend’s face turned white. She didn’t even look at the pictures of the crime scenes. (Y/N) fixed her eyes on her notebook on the table and crossed her arms on her chest. She didn’t speak during the briefing, just bite her lips and the inside of her cheeks the whole time.

- “Today, my dear furry friends, you will be flying to (Y/N) ’s hometown, rainy Seattle, for a case that will give me nightmares for the rest week, so I refuse to look at the screen”

(Y/N) held her breath and stayed as still as possible on her chair.

- “The unsub is targeting couples in their late thirties. He stabs them to death in their bed, places the bodies as if they were asleep, and forces the kids to lay between them. Then, he locks them in the house until they manage to escape”.

Hotch sighed and looked at the team. Family-related cases always were the hardest for him and J.J. Especially when there were kids involved.

- “The police department asked for our help because they think it might be related to four unsolved murders that took place in Seattle back in the nineties”-

Garcia finished. Hotch stood up and announced, “wheels up in twenty”, and everybody left the room. Everybody but (Y/N), who couldn’t move.

- “Hey… are you ok?”- Spencer stood in front of her chair and held her hands. She just nodded and tried her best to smile.

- “I’m just tired, honey, that’s all. It’s been a long week”.

- “You can tell me if there’s anything wrong, buttercup, you know that”- she tried to smile and stood up. Spencer cupped her face with both hands and kissed her lips sweetly.

(Y/N) held her breath for a few seconds, making her best not to cry. When he looked at her, she cut him a small smile, trying to show him everything was ok.

Of course, it was not.

Neither Spencer nor anyone in the BAU knew (Y/N) ’s secret. She didn’t want to share it with anyone ‘cos it meant everybody would pity her, and she couldn’t handle that. She couldn’t deal with people looking at her like she was a victim. She hated it when it happened back in her hometown, and she knew she couldn’t handle it if their BAU family looked at her like that.

That case hurt her deeper than she could ever explain, and she wasn’t sure she could keep the secret that was killing her alive for much longer.

During the trip, she barely looked at the files. Spencer sat next to her, trying to comfort her. He knew she wouldn’t tell him what was happening, but he wanted to be by her side. He wanted her to know he was there for her, no matter what.

(Y/N) knew that, but of all people, he was the last one she wanted to share her secret with. She was too embarrassed and too scared he could run away. She was also too damaged, and she had, somehow, managed to cover her wounds for all those years.

But now, everything was collapsing, and she knew it could only get worse from there.

- “Morgan, you and Reid talk with the forensic. We need every detail on the killer’s M.O.”- Hotch said as soon as they landed in Seattle- “(Y/N), you and Prentiss talk with the family of the latest victims. JJ, Rossi, we will speak with the police chief and see the previous investigation files”.

(Y/N)’ s heart stopped for a second. She held her folder fight and nodded, making her best not to show her whole body started shaking.

Spencer could read it, (Y/N) was hiding something, and it wasn’t something good. He leaned in and kissed her temple and held her hand tight.

- “Do you want me to go with you? I can ask Hotch…”

- “No, honey”- she whispered, shaking her head- “I’m ok”

- “Sure”- she nodded and pecked his lips- “I’ll see you back at the police station, ok?”

Prentiss was doing all the talking. (Y/N) could barely breathe in that interview. A thirteen years old little girl sat on a couch, nearly crying, holding her grandmother’s hand tight, as if her life depended on it.

-” I know this is hard, and you are doing great, Kristy. I need you to close your eyes and tell me, what do you remember of that night”.

Without even notice, (Y/N) did the same.

- “Mom and dad stayed up after I went to bed. I heard them talking in the kitchen when I went to the bathroom”

- “What time was it?”- Prentiss whispered

- “Eleven… eleven-thirty”

- “And do you remember anything odd? anything that didn’t look right?”- Kristy stayed in silence. You could tell she was doing her best to remember.

- “The neighbor’s dog was barking“

- “Ok, good”- Prentiss praised- “You are doing great, anything else? A smell, a noise?”

- “I heard something in the closet in the hall, like… like someone was chuckling, so I got scared and ran back to my room”- Kristy was agitated, and tears started falling down her cheeks. (Y/N) held her hands and looked at her, whispering.

- “You had heard that chuckle before, hadn’t you?”- and the girl nodded.

- “But your parents told you you were too old to believe in the boogie man, right?”- (Y/N) continued, fighting her own tears.

- “(Y/N)?”- Prentiss was confused

- “It’s not your fault-” (Y/N) whispered and wrapped her arms around the girl, who now started sobbing- “You have to understand it’s not your fault. He wanted you to be scared”.

- “(Y/N), what are you talking about?”- Prentiss asked her but still didn’t get any answer.

- “Kristy, this is important. Do you remember if a stranger had been in your house in the last week?”- but the girl just shook her head- “He may have said his car broke down, or he was lost”

- “A man came last Wednesday”- the girl whispered, still crying- “He said he needed help with his car… dad borrowed him some tools and helped him change his tire”

(Y/N) nodded and looked at Prentiss.

- “That’s the guy”

- “How do you know?”- Emily was confused. Not only because tears kept falling from (Y/N) ’s eyes, but because of her deduction.

- “Believe me, that’s the guy. I’m gonna call Hotch”.

- “(Y/N)! Wait!”- Prentiss ran after her friend and followed her back to the SUV- “What the hell happened back there?”

- “What do you mean?”- the young agent tried to act as if nothing had happened. Which was impossible, but still, she gave it a shot.

- “You knew something about this case! You knew the girl had heard the unsub before, how?”

(Y/N) stayed still and just looked at her friend, took a deep breath, and lied.

- “We studied this case back in the academy. Some of the kids said they had heard a chuckling the days before the murder”

Prentiss frowned. She had read that case over and over again, and she knew that information wasn’t in any file. But it was apparent (Y/N) didn’t want to talk about it.

Against all odds, (Y/N) managed to go through the day, keeping herself as calm as possible. After talking with Kristy, she and Prentiss reached the police station. Spencer was waiting for her with a hot cup of her favorite coffee. Just what she needed. He held her hand and kissed it as they walked to the rest of the team.

- “How are you feeling, buttercup?”

- “I’m tired...”- she sighed and looked into his chocolate eyes. They were filled with love for her. The kind of love that made her feel no matter what, everything was going to be ok.

- “When we are back home, I’ll run you a bubble bath. Would you like that?”

- “I would love that, honey”

They delivered a profile, which confirmed it was the same killer as in the nineties. A white man. Now in his late fifties. His parents had committed suicide when he was thirteen. He was left alone with the corpses for three days until a neighbor contacted the police because of the smell. As he grew up, his trauma led him to kill couples around his parents’ age, with a single kid the same age as he was when he died.

- “Hey baby girl, I need you to help me find this unsub”- Morgan called Garcia as the whole team gathered around the board. It was late, and they were all tired, but they didn’t want to give the unsub the chance to kill again.

- “I need you to run me a list of all the prisoners in the area who were released a month ago, that’s when the crimes started”

- “You are gonna have to give me something else, chocolate thunder. Do you have any kind of idea how many people are released weekly from jail?”

- “Ten thousand”- Spencer answered and kept his eyes stuck at the board- “Garcia, he is around fifty, white, and had been in jail approximately thirteen or fourteen years”.

(Y/N)’ s heart was beating so fast inside her chest she thought anyone could hear it. Her legs were shaking, her eyes were watering up. But she had to keep herself together. She had to, for the team. For herself. For this case. For the victims.

- “Still too many”- Garcia said

- “Can you see if any of them had a red truck?”- (Y/N) asked, and the whole team turned to her, confused

- “Why a red truck?”- Hotch asked her, confused

- “It was a theory we analyzed at the academy”- she lied again.

- “Bingo! Sam Paterson, 53 years old, was released five weeks ago. I’m sending you his last known address right now”.

- “(Y/N), I just read all the files about this case, including the cases from ’98, and they never mentioned a red truck”- Spencer asked his girlfriend. They were in the SUV, and Morgan was driving. Reid turned to the backseat to look at her, but she kept her eyes in the window.

- “I don’t know why it wasn’t there. Maybe they dismissed part of the evidence”

Reid was afraid to ask again, so he just nodded and turned to Morgan.

- “How long until we get there?”

- "Two minutes. I can’t wait to catch this bastard”.

The unsub was hidden in a barn at the back of his property. He had all the trophies he kept from the crime scenes: a toy from each kid’s bedroom.

They surrounded him quickly, but he kept pointing a gun against the team. He knew he was fucked, but he wasn’t going to surrender.

- “You are done, Sam”- Morgan tried to talk to him, but the unsub just looked at the agents around him and laughed.

- “I was sure you were going to be the one to get me”- he said and looked at (Y/N)- “You haven’t changed a thing”

- “Shut up!”- (Y/N) muttered and bit her lips, trying her best not to cry. She didn’t want to give him the pleasure of seeing her crumble.

- (”Y/N) James, sorry, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), you use your mother’s last name now”

- “Shut up!”- the gent spit those words holding her gun tight. She could shoot him. She wanted to shoot him. But she wasn’t a monster like him. She had to keep telling herself that over and over again to keep her from pulling the trigger.

The whole team looked at her in shock. James. The James was the last couple the unsub killed in ’98. Their thirteen-year-old daughter was left with their bodies for a whole day locked in the house before she managed to escape.

- “(Y/N)?”- Spencer didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t believe it.

- “I always knew you were special, (Y/N)”- Sam smiled- “You were the only one who heard me. Too bad mommy and daddy laughed at you when you told them someone was walking around the house at night”

- “You are sick”- it was a miracle that (Y/N) wasn’t crying. The anger that filled her body was too powerful, and it fueled her with revenge.

- “Maybe I am sick, but I’m also the one who knows you better than anyone”- he made a pause and looked around at the rest of the team- “Oh! They didn’t know! Why didn’t you tell them? Want me to give them the short version of the fact?”

- “You don’t know anything about me!”

- “That’s where you are wrong. I know a lot about you, (Y/N). I hunted you and your parents for weeks. Remember that little cat that used to play in your backyard? Garfield, that’s how you called him, right?”

- “Shut up!”- (Y/N) was having serious trouble stopping herself from pulling that trigger. She wanted to kill him and avenge her parents. They didn’t deserve to die just because a sick bastard decided to kill them.

- “I always wanted to ask you, how did you feel when you laid there with them? After I killed your parents, how did you feel? ‘cos when I laid with mine, I just felt such peace… Did you feel peace too? (Y/N)? did you?”

A single gunshot was the end of Sam. Spencer put his gun down after killing him and looked at his girlfriend. She was shaking. He didn’t say a word. He ran to her and wrapped his arms around her tight, just to hear her burst into tears. Tears she had been holding for years.

- “I’m here, I’m here with you”- he whispered as he kept kissing her cheeks- “You are safe, I’ve got you, (Y/N)”

- “He… he…”- she tried to speak, but she couldn’t. Spencer held her closer, tighter, and kissed any part of her he could. Her shoulder, her head, her cheek, her hair, her temple.

- “He’s dead, (Y/N). He is never going to hurt you again”

(Y/N) couldn’t move. She just kneeled on the floor, a few feet away from the corpse of the man that had killed her parents. Spencer held her in his arms and carried her outside.

- “You are safe”- Reid kept repeating, and she just nodded as he sat her in the back of an ambulance

- “I’m never going to let anyone hurt you, (Y/N). Did you know that?”- Reid ran his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping off the tears that kept falling from her eyes.

- “I will protect you, forever”

(Y/N) looked at him and quivered her chin again. She knew he meant it, and a small part of her felt relieved he knew everything now. Even the dark part she had managed to hide for years from everybody.

- “I love you so much (Y/N), and I am so proud of you. You overcame a situation that most people would never get over, and you became an amazing woman. The amazing woman I love”

- “Thank you”- (Y/N) whispered and sobbed- “I just didn’t want to tell anyone so they wouldn’t pity me”- she said and hugged Spencer tight again, hiding her face on his chest

- “No! listen to me. I am proud of you, that’s how I feel about you, ok?”- he looked at her and kissed her cheeks sweetly- “I love you (Y/N)”

- “I love you too, Spencer. Thank you for being here”

- “Always”

#Spencer Reid #Mathew Gray Gubler #Criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #angst #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #babymetaldoll writes

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years ago

Text

Into The Unknown, Part 5

First

Tim finished up pretty quickly.

After all, all the baby toys seemed to just be different variations of each other. Some crinkle, some make sounds, some squish, some… do nothing at all? Tim had no clue how he used to get by as a kid.

He ended up getting Damian three toys:

A tiny rubber duck. He’s almost completely sure that Marinette would have bought one if Tim hadn’t. At least when he was the one buying it he could opt to get the Darth Vader one (Damian had always been woefully uncultured, this was his one chance to make the kid watch sci-fi without risking getting stabbed).

A plush cow with crinkly ears. He had to hope that this could maybe jog memories of Batcow and, in turn, everything else. Tim had tried to think of something a little more relevant but all he could think of were things related to Batman, to Superboy, to the League of Assassins (did their lives really revolve around vigilante-work that much?)... and, unfortunately, this reality didn’t have merch that he could give the kid.

And a squishy plastic baguette. Because that was all he could think of to get back at Marinette for the duck thing.

When it came to little kid books he hesitated for just a bit before getting the basics -- stuff like animals and the letters and Spot The Dog. He wondered, vaguely, if he’d have to teach the kid numbers since they already used the Arabic numeral system. He got a book on it just in case.

Then he got a couple of books on parenting.

He checked out and then walked back to the sitting area where he was supposed to meet Marinette.

… she was taking forever.

He sighed quietly and skimmed through a book on parenting.

… oops they were supposed to breastfeed until Damian was about two. No clue what to do about that. Maybe the kid was already used to a bottle? He hoped so. He’d watch him more carefully while Marinette was holding him to see. In the meantime, he’d get a bottle and some formula on top of the baby food they’d been getting so far.

Alright so the kid was supposed to learn behaviors and language through observation. Good. That, hopefully, solved that problem. Tim probably would have just given the kid a textbook and said ‘good luck’. Marinette… he didn’t really know what Marinette would have done, but the woman wasn’t a teacher as far as he could tell and asking her to teach the kid properly was a little unfair.

Babies around his age are supposed to speak in something called… protowords? Like… a baby language? Damn, he has a miraculous and it seemingly allows him the power to understand every language but apparently ‘baby-speak’ didn’t count as a language. Tim called bullshit.

He felt a weight settle down on the bench next to him and absently glanced over.

Marinette sent him a slightly tired smile. She was wearing a new, dark red scarf.

He opened his mouth to say something only to have her shake her head and adjust her scarf a little to show him something.

Ah. It looked like Damian had fallen asleep on her shoulder so she’d fashioned the scarf into a makeshift baby sling.

“Could’ve used the stroller,” he whispered, setting his receipt in the book to mark his page.

She snorted. “And risk waking him? He cries every time he wakes up, I’m not dealing with that right now.”

He bit his lip. “You know… this book says he’s supposed to cry for, like, an hour to an hour and a half a day.”

She tipped her head to the side a little. “He’s cried like… three times.”

“Yeah, and he was really easy to shut up. Decidedly not normal.”

They looked back down at Damian, identical frowns on their faces.

“Does it have an explanation for why he’d be like this?” Marinette asked, her voice soft.

Tim hesitated.

“The only reasons I can think of are that he doesn’t think we’d help him if he cried or he thinks crying is something he’d be punished for. Considering how he was raised… it could be either. Or both.”

Marinette yawned as she sat back on the hotel bed. She leaned back against Tim, leaving him to bear the weight of both her and Damian.

He, to his credit, barely even blinked. He turned slowly until they were both leaning back against each other.

She tipped her head back to rest on his shoulder.

She could fall asleep like this, she thought. Propped against Tim. Damian, in her arms, watching an episode of something called True and the Rainbow Kingdom… it was nice.

Or, at least, it would be if Tim could stop that infernal tapping.

“Ugh, could you stop that? Some people actually sleep.”

He gave a tiny puff of laughter that acknowledged that he heard her but, alas, he continued typing.

She groaned a little and reached a hand behind herself to give him a tiny bap to his side.

“Hm. This may shock you, but hitting me really hasn’t helped your case.”

She huffed and twisted around to try and see over his shoulder. She’d given up on sleeping, anyway.

“What are you even doing?”

He shrugged just slightly. “Trying to figure out what to do about money.”

She nodded slowly, looking over his shoulder as he scrolled through jobs they could do with zero experience or degrees. That could sustain a family of three and pay for the daycare they would have to take Damian to. The options... weren’t great.

Damian tugged on her shirt for her attention and she looked down as he pointed at his screen with a bright smile. There was a black cat on the screen. She didn’t really know what he wanted until he kept saying ‘ma’ over and over. She nodded and said ‘cat’ in both Arabic and English, which seemed to sate him as he went back to watching… the giant green yeti monster stealing a basket of candy? What the fuck was even going on on this show? Were kids’ shows like this in her own world, too? Or was this one’s shows just especially weird?

A thought occurred to her and she looked back over at Tim.

“You exist in this world, right?”

He nodded absently and opened a tab that, despite its claim that it was an entry level job, apparently required two years of experience and a degree. He closed it quickly.

“Why don't we just mooch off of the other you?”

Tim sighed. “Because that’s illegal?”

“You’re a vigilante. I don’t think that ‘borrowing’ money from your alternate self is where you should draw the line on illegal activities.”

“I draw the line when it harms innocent people.”

She laughed at that. “He’s rich. It’s not like he’s going to miss it. Think of it as… giving the money to people who need it.”

“You’re a regular robin hood,” Tim said sarcastically.

“I know. I’m so kind,” she agreed, grinning.

There were a few moments of silence.

Then, finally, he shook his head. “Even if we could somehow do that -- which I can’t guarantee because I’m not completely sure I could guess my passwords -- the fact that we’re in Texas… he’d notice.”

She shrugged. “Then let’s move back to Gotham.”

He blinked and finally looked up from the computer. “What?”

“We don’t have much of a life here, really, so why not move?”

He considered this for a while before sighing and flopping back on the bed. “Let me see if I can even get into the account. There’s nothing to say that I even have the same social security number here...”

She nodded her understanding and laid back next to him. Damian whined a little at the sudden displacement but just ran a hand up and down his back absently until he was watching his show again, completely silent as he stared at the screen. Now the main girl was reaching into her bag for a weird orb of light that was, apparently, sentient. Was this the Dora of their world? God help their children.

Speaking of helping their children...

She picked up a parenting book to read while Tim tried to guess his otherworldly counterpart’s passwords.

Tim managed to get in.

He rested his head in his hands, cursing quietly.

She glanced over and smiled at his slightly flushed face.

“What was the password?”

He grumbled under his breath.

This only seemed to encourage her more because she started nudging his shoulder, the soft smile morphing into a cheeky grin.

He sighed and took a moment to gather himself before looking over at her. “It’s… ‘<3Richard<3graysons<3little<3brother<3’.”

“... I don’t get it.”

“Good. So you can’t tease me about it,” he said, sticking his tongue out at her.

She scoffed. “That’s not fair.”

“Totally is.”

He set the computer down beside himself and stretched his achy old bones. He’d had a baby for approximately two days now and he could already feel the bad back setting in. Tomorrow he would have gray hair.

“I’m going to look it up if you don’t tell me.”

“... he’s a celebrity,” Tim said quietly.

Her grin wavered back towards that genuine smile for just a second before spreading into an even wider grin. She reached out and pinched his cheeks. “Awwww, Tim, that’s so cute --!”

“Shut up,” he complained, batting her hands away.

She snickered. “No. I’m going to write that password on your tombstone.”

“You’re assuming I’m going to die first.”

“I have an extended lifespan. You’re only going to have that for another fifteen years. After that? Unless I’m really stupid you’re gonna die first.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m going to find out how to be immortal now. Purely to spite you.”

She snorted. “Okay. Good luck with that.”

“Thank you.”

With that, he pushed himself up with a groan. “I’m going to get him ready for bed.”

She nodded her understanding and continued with her reading.

Damian whined a little when Tim tried to take him away from where he had curled up next to Marinette but that seemed to be more because he was tired and cranky than genuine distress.

Tim was the one to bathe him. It wasn’t a bubble bath, he wasn’t eager to repeat the previous night’s mistakes, but he did give Damian the rubber duck. This seemed to work for all of them, since Damian now allowed them to take him out of the bath as long as he got to bring his duck.

Marinette grinned when she looked over at where Damian was chewing on his rubber duck as Tim struggled to click the annoyingly difficult buttons of the onesie into place.

“Told you he would love it.”

“We both know that wasn’t why you wanted to get it.”

“And we both know you didn’t get that squishy bread-thing just because you thought he would like it, either.”

He smiled. “Maaaaaybe.”

The onesie finally allowed itself to be buttoned and Tim picked Damian up so he could get into bed.

Marinette frowned. “This book says we shouldn’t let him sleep with us every night. Says it creates a bad habit that’s hard to break.”

Tim raised an eyebrow at her but, reluctantly, carried the kid over to the crib so they could sleep separately.

“Fine. But I’m going to sleep before him so I don’t stress out all night.”

She snickered. “Fine. Fine.”

He climbed into bed, set a pillow between them, and promptly dozed off before he could get woken up by Damian whimpering through the night.

… Tim woke up a few hours later -- his body wasn’t quite used to sleeping through nights just yet -- to find that Marinette had brought the kid into bed with them again.

He smiled a little and moved the pillow out from between them. Even if Damian was currently too trapped in Marinette’s arms to even reach it, it was best to make sure it couldn’t happen.

Damian whimpered a little in his sleep again and Tim tipped his head to the side. He reached over and gently combed his fingers through the fuzzy little tufts of hair that the kid had so far. Damian relaxed.

Tim sighed and shifted in the bed until he was closer to Damian, then maneuvered through Marinette’s mess of limbs to press a tiny kiss to the top of his head. The baby smiled in his sleep and, though the kid couldn’t see it, he returned the smile. He rested an arm around the kid as well in hopes that it would keep the kid feeling safe before allowing himself to drift off.

~~~~~

@nathleigh @peachmuses @unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx @laurcad123 @927roses-and-stuff

#into the unknown #maribat #tim drake #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #timari #timmari #shutterbug #timinette

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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

Note

hi!! i rly liked your first writing it was so cute and you described jisung so well too! can i request a friends to lovers with han? kinda slow burn like they're really good friends but jisung gets jealous of her close friend and reader secretly likes him too but she doesnt wanna ruin the things between them so... one day they get into a fight and they end up making out😳 bc shes like "wtf we're friends" smut is ok but just a make out would be fine too the details r up to u💗

why yes you can! Thank you for requesting hehe you are my first ask ever ♡ I hope that you like it, here’s some best friend ‘sungie for ya :)

all yours | reader x jisung |

Paring: self-insert, female reader x han jisung

Genre: fluff ‘n a lil bit of smut & angst

Tags: student!reader, bestfriend!jisung, lab partner!felix (haha), friends to lovers, mutual pining, best friend au, college au, jealousy, slow-ish burn, mentions of exams, some yelling, reader is secretly whipped for jisung (and jisung for the reader), explicit language, marking, that good good makin’ out

Word count: 2.4k

“Hey!”

The little ball of paper that you had crinkled up bounced off Jisung’s arm with a soft pat.

“What happened to studying together? You said that you were gonna quiz me.”

Jisung’s eyes popped up from his phone screen looking a little bewildered. “Sorry, I just...got a little distracted.

“Distracted? Looking at what?”

“Oh, nothing.” He placed his phone down, clicking it off.

“Is “nothing” code for some girl’s Instagram?” You dished him out a teasing smirk. “I think you forget that I know you better than you know yourself sometimes.”

Jisung shuffled the papers in front of him pretending like he had something to do. “Psh. I was not.”

“--Does she go to school here?”

“I told you, I said no.” He furrowed his brow trying to look as serious as possible, but that was nearly impossible for someone as naturally adorable as him. “Why are you drilling me? Aren’t you supposed to be doing some work right now?”

“~So are you~” You teasingly sang back to him, giving him a kick under the table just for good measure.

Jisung threw your balled up paper ball back to you. “Let’s just get back to what we were doing so we can leave. I don’t wanna end up like him.”

He nodded over to the end of your table where a student had fallen asleep mid-chapter. His nose twitched and he snorted a little bit. You knew exactly what Jisung meant, you didn’t want to be at the library at 11pm on a Tuesday either; it was your better judgement that told you.

“Can we get food after this?” Jisung asked after approximately five minutes of “working.”

“Sounds good to me.” You quipped, barely allowing your eyes to leave your computer screen. You found that you always had to try you best to let him not distract you. He was really good at that.

You slid a stack of index cards in front of him. “Ask me these? I’m having a hard time getting the Latin names down...if you’re not busy?”

“Nope!” He piped, and shoved his notebook away.

“Okay!” He said with determination and a little bounce. He fixed his oversized hoodie before starting, looking adorably lost in the fabric.

He asked you the first question, but it barely met your ears. There you were, getting distracted by him again.

screw you Han Jisung, you thought to yourself.

☆。*。☆。

“I just don’t understand how you make sense of all that crap, I could never be a science major like you are.”

“--And I could never understand production like you do.”

“And this is why we work.” Jisung grinned with smiling eyes while he opened the library door for you. “I’m starving, I can’t stop thinking about--”

“--Y/n??” A voice called from behind the two of you.

The two of you whipped your heads back to see a loveable looking blonde and freckled boy bounding to catch up with you. It was Felix, your lab partner from zoology. The two of you were nothing more than classroom friends, but his friendly kindness was always something that brightened up your terrible 9 am lab.

“Felix!” You beamed, holding the door so it wouldn’t close on him. “Are you here studying for the exam as well?”

“Oh yeah, I just...my brain couldn’t take it any more,” He sarcastically mimed his head pains, “I just need to get some sleep now.”

“I just don’t get how they expect us to know all of those phyla like its nothing.”

“I know right?’ He chuckled.

Next to you, Jisung silently poked at the elevator button to go down.

“Is it alright if I head down with you guys?”

“Of course!” You motioned him in.

Once the doors had closed, the three of you found a different corner of the small box to plant yourselves in.

“shit-sorry, Felix, I didn’t introduce you, this is Jisung.”

“Hi!” Felix shone, and Jisung gave him a curt nod back.

Felix waved to two of you goodbye, leaving you in the nighttime snow. You noticed that as Felix walked away he had a little bounce to his step; and you couldn’t help but crack a little smile.

“Our usual?” Jisung asked you with a little edge to his voice.

You linked your arm around his, letting out a little shrill sound when the fabric of your two coat sleeves met. “Sounds good to me!” You nuzzled up into him while both of your bodies’ heat intermingled.

The two of you walked on under the streetlights which illuminated the falling flakes in streams of light. You never loosened your grip, as had become your habit lately when the two of you walked around. Jisung never seemed to mind; the two of you had been mistaken for a couple more than enough times thanks to it. When it did happen, it didn’t phase you at all. Being close to Jisung was like second nature to you.

The whole walk over Jisung never uttered a word, which was uncharacteristic of his usual boisterous self.

“Is everything okay?”

He sniffled, “Yeah, I think I just got kinda tired out of nowhere.”

“Ah.” You mouthed, and squeezed his arm a little harder.

After a moment’s silence, he somberly announced, “If you’re in the same class as him, maybe you should study with him.”

“Huh.” You tsked. “Yeah, I mean I never thought about that before...I guess that could do me some good.”

You looked slightly up to him: a product of him being slightly taller than you. His brown eyes remained stoic, and you couldn’t figure out why. You hated it when he wouldn’t tell you what was wrong, but he was also stubborn at letting up.

“But thank you for helping me tonight! You know that I reeealy appreciate it.” You turned your tone as cutesy as you could--Jisung hated it, but you knew that it could bring a smile to his face.

His gaze softened a bit. “Anytime. You’d do the same for me.”

☆。*。☆。

Jisung rested his head on your shoulder on the bus ride home with his phone weakly held in his hand. One more bump in the road and you knew that it would go flying so you carefully took it into your own lap where it would be safe. You wouldn’t dare moving an inch because you had a feeling that he had closed his eyes. Time had slipped past 1am, and you had to keep fighting yawns yourself. The bus driver had been blasting the heat, so it wasn’t hard at all for you to feel cozy.

You glanced down at his open hand in his lap. It looked exactly like he was beckoning for you to scoop it up in your own. You wondered what what happen if you did. What would he think of it? Would he think anything of it? You had held hands before, but every time you had it had been under purely platonic pretenses. If you just grabbed it now, what would the pretenses be then? The two of you cozied up on a bus: that was something that couples did.

You shut your eyes closed tightly and tried your best to banish all the thoughts clouding your head.

Jisung’s hand twitched, looking even more inviting.

screw you Han Jisung.

☆。*。☆。

[7:14pm]

jisung: you want to come over? Changbin is cooking and i don’t wanna eat whatever he’s making alone

[7:31pm]

me: sorry, I’m studying with Felix at the library, I think that we are gonna be here late. It’s all the Latin, I’m drowning in the Latin, Sung.

I’m sorry.

see you Friday once I’m out of this hell?

[7:34pm]

jisung: see you friday.

☆。*。☆。

You pounded on the door to Jisung’s apartment with your phone in hand, the white screen showing you the number that you had worked so hard for.

“Open the door!” You called giddily. “Jisung! I know that you’re in here, we need to celebrate! ~I can treat youuu~”

Just as you were about to knock again, the door swung open, revealing a wet haired Jisung in his grey sweats and tee. His brown strands of hair were scattered around his head while he rubbed at them with a towel.

“Shit! Can’t I shower?” He jested.

It took all your will power not to ogle him more. He looked devastatingly handsome, but you swallowed down how utterly flustered he had made you.

You cleared your throat, “Uh...sorry...” then remembered your phone in your hand. “I got a 96! Can you believe it! I’m even surprised too, when I was taking the test I just got so nervous...”

“All that studying paid off huh?” He cockily rose an eyebrow. “You can go ahead and thank me now, without my help...” He shrugged with a grin.

You invited yourself in and threw your bag down at the door like you usually did.

“Thank youuu” You sung. “Oh! And studying with Felix really paid off too.” You took off your shoes, thinking of how nice it had been to finally study with someone who knew your class topics. Not that Jisung wasn’t helpful, but you and Felix were on the same page. “He knew it all way more than I did, so he was super helpful. I forgot to text him--”

Jisung closed the door behind you with a slam that made you jump. He moved away from you, not meeting your eyes. The air around the two of you suddenly became thick with something that did not feel as excited as you just were.

“...do you wanna maybe watch a movie?” You moved closer. “Or we could get some deliv--”

“--Why even bother coming over here?” Jisung suddenly huffed.

“What?”

Jisung’s words flew out of his mouth sharply, “If he was so helpful? What are you doing here, huh?”

“Jisung, I don’t understand...” Your heartbeat quickened in your chest and you felt anxiety swell there as well. Jisung never spoke to you like this. He never sounded like this.

He growled out a little sound in frustration. “I-I just...can’t believe you--”

“--Me? Jisung, what did I do?” You threw your arms up, genuinely confused.

He ran his fingertips over his temples and let out a deep exhale. “Y/n, don’t pretend like you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Your temper started to become seething and you felt your ears get hot. “Tell me Jisung. Tell me what I did. And while you’re at it, what has been up with you these past few days? Being short with me, and distant, yeah-I’ve noticed...what are you doing??”

Jisung heaved breaths in and out of his chest, then ran a hand through his hair. He still couldn’t meet your eyes.

For a moment, a flash of panic surged in your head, making your heart ache with an unexpected pain. You truly didn’t know what he had meant, and if you had made a mistake, you knew it could mean loosing him. God, that was the last thing in the world you wanted. It always was.

“If I did something wrong tell me because clearly I don’t know!!” You yelled back at him, straining your throat.

He walked up to you, then grabbed your shoulders with a firm grip. Finally, you saw his eyes, brown and soft, holding a type of pain that you hadn’t seen in him before.

screw you, Han Jisung.

“Jisung, I--”

You were shoved by the shoulders in milliseconds to the door behind you, the impact nearly knocking the wind out of you. You gasped in your surprise, but your mouth was immediately shut by Jisung ramming his lips into yours. His hands needily took your face into his palms with his mouth blazing with hunger for you.

It took you a moment to realize what had just happened and steady yourself after being so startled. His lips were so soft and warm, your brain had a hard time recognizing that he was really doing this. His haste made no indication of stopping so you let yourself do what you had wanted to do for years: you kissed him back with everything that you had.

As soon as you did so, he let out little desperate moans between your lips in response. You let your arms wrap around his back and he fell into them just right. Naturally you took one of your hands to the back of his head and tangled up your fingers in his hair. God, it all felt so good. Jisung snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you into him with force, crashing your hips together.

The two of you clumsily made your way to the couch where he threw you down and crawled over top of you just as fast. He moved to your neck then traversed around your skin, sending shivers all through your body. Your hands eagerly found his back where you dug into him, wanting to be impossibly close. To your side, he carefully took your hand in his, weaving all of your fingers together.

Jisung pressed down into you and began to suck at your neck without holding himself back. It was such an intense feeling that couldn’t help but moan out something you didn’t know you could. You felt his mouth turn into a grin on your skin while he continued. It stung a little when he removed his lips, but he gently kissed each mark as if he was soothing it once he was done. He stopped to admire the little array of purple bruises he had made.

“I want you all to myself.” Jisung’s voice was hoarse, but still honey-covered in desire.

“What are we doing?” You asked him in breathless disbelief.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He whispered, and appeared to calm his breaths. “I don’t care.”

"You don’t?”

“Why should I?” He cocked his head and used his free hand to caress your face.

“--That this could change things between us?”

“You don’t want it too?” He looked a little confused.

You felt a warmth rush to your cheeks. “--No! I do, I do...trust me.”

“Then can I kiss you some more?” Jisung grinned down at you as loving as he always had, but this time it meant something slightly different.

“...please.”

He lowered back onto you, connecting your lips once more. Jisung’s tongue languidly smoothed onto yours and you already felt intoxicated by the feeling. You tightened your fingers around his.

I’ve always been yours.

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spencerreidismyonetruelove · 4 years ago

Text

Stay With Me

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N is a member of the BAU team and Spencer’s girlfriend. She was an EMT in college and keeps her certification up to date. In the season 9 two part finale, Spencer pushes Y/N out of the way of that bullet instead of Blake. Now she has to keep him alive and with her.

A/N: This is my first Spencer Reid x Reader Fic. I am an actual real life EMT so this is 100% self indulgent. I hope you like it!

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Injury, Blood, Angst (but ends in fluff)

Spencer and I arrive at the restaurant with Sheriff Coleman and a few officers. Mills is inside, but no movement has been spotted yet. The officers want to move in now, but Spencer explains that it is safer to establish a perimeter and try to open a line of communication first. We begin to establish a game plan.

That is when the first shot was fired. Sheriff Coleman goes down, as the rest of us duck for cover. All of a sudden, there are shots everywhere. I look down and Sheriff Coleman is looking back at me as he clutches his side. On instinct, I crouch around the patrol car door I’m behind, and attempt to pull Coleman to safety.

I hear Spencer shout my name while he shoves me to the side. When I turn back to face him, Morgan is there. “Reid!” he yells, as he lunges forward to grab him. J.J. appears next to me and helps me begin to drag Coleman out of the line of fire. As a bullet hits him between the eyes, J.J. and I let him go and dive out of the way.

I scramble my way over to where Morgan has Spencer propped behind a car. There is so much blood that at first I can’t tell where he was shot. I finally find the wound on the side of his neck. I press my hands to the wound and attempt to stop the flow of blood between my fingers.

“Not today, Spencer,” I say only to him, before turning my head. “I need a medic!” I scream in the direction of one of the near by officers. With help on the way, I focus on trying to keep Spencer awake. “Hey,” I begin, looking into his large brown eyes. “You are not going to die on me today. You keep your eyes open, do you hear me? Eyes on me. You stay with me, Spencer. You stay awake, and you stay. With. Me.” I watch in horror as his eyes begin to roll and his eyelids flutter. “WHERE IS MY MEDIC?” I shout as loud as my lungs can manage as my chest feels like it’s collapsing.

As if on cue, a pair of men roll a stretcher up next to me. Suddenly, all of my years working on an ambulance seem like yesterday rather than back in college. “32 year old male, single GSW to the side of the neck. I’ve got the bleeding somewhat controlled, but he’s lost consciousness. Pulse is still strong under my hand, approximately 100 beats a minute. If you two can get him on the stretcher, I can keep this under control. But, we have to move now, he is losing too much blood.” The quick report flows from my lips to the two Medics easily. They quickly lift him onto the stretcher as I hold his wound and support his head. Once he is secure, I climb into the stretcher as well and straddle Spencer’s legs as I hold the wound as tightly as I can without cutting off his air. “Let’s go, NOW!” I bark at the Medics, and they wheel us to the waiting ambulance.

When we are inside, away from the gun fire, I am joined by one of the Medics as the other slams the doors behind us and jumps up front. A second pair of hands joins mine holding gauze. I help the medic wrap the wound, and then I climb off of Spencer and move to the side. I wipe my hands quickly on my pants and hold one out, “Shears.” It’s a single word, a command, and the medics places them in my hand. In record time, I have Spencer’s vest removed and his shirt cut in the area of his wound searching for other injuries.

Once I am sure we have all the bleeding controlled, I sit to the side out of the way of the Medic and grasp Spencer’s hand in both of my own. It’s cold, and I squeeze it tightly. “You do what you do, keep him alive,” I say to the medic. “I can't lose him.” I choke on a single sob before I’m rambling to Spencer. “I don’t know if you can hear me right now, Spence, but I’m just going to assume that you can. You are not allowed to die right now. We are on our way to the hospital, we are going to get you all fixed up. You’ll be good as new, and you will have an awesome scar to rub in Morgan’s face. But you have to stay with me, baby. I cannot do this job without you by my side. So right now I need you to open your eyes. Fight, Spence. Fight to stay with me.”

I take a deep breath, and Spencer begins mumbling. “The sound is like a tea kettle. Did you hear it?” His eyelids are fluttering again. And I watch as he begins looking round the ambulance.

“What?” Is all I can ask before the beeping of the equipment grows louder and the Medic says something. I don’t hear his words, I’m too focused on Spencer’s face. His eyes begin to slip closed and I can't help but yell, “Drive faster!” I choke on a second sob, “Stay with me, Spence. I’m right here, stay with me.”

When we arrive at the hospital, Spencer is unloaded and taken immediately into surgery. I clutch onto his hand until the hospital staff stops me at a set of doors. I’m forced to stand back and watch as they whisk him away. Instantly, I am numb. I allow a woman in scrubs to walk me into a nearby waiting room. I wash my hands in the waiting room bathroom before wandering back into the empty room. I stand, surrounded by empty chairs and small tables covered in old magazines, for what could have been seconds or hours, until J.J. arrives. She rushes into the room and asks, “Any news?” as she approaches me.

I shake my head, “No.” My voice sounds small and rough. I clear my throat before speaking again, “They took him straight to surgery, and no one has come back to tell me anything yet.” J.J. guides me to a seat and helps me remove my vest. “It should have been me,” I whisper as she sits across from me.

“Or me, or any of us,” she replies as if to agree with me.

“No,” I cut her off. “He pushed me out of the way. That bullet was meant for me. If he doesn’t make it…” I trail off, unable to speak anymore.

“He’ll make it,” She assures me. “He has to. There are still things for you two to do. Do you know that he wants kids? I mean, have you two talked about that? Can you imagine Spence as a dad?” She chuckles and smiles slightly. She looks as if she is going to continue, but Penelope and Cruz join us in the room. “You’re here,” J.J. says to Penelope as she gets up to hug her.

“Yeah, it turns out we’re not the only one that’s connected and he knows somebody with a plane,” Penelope replies gesturing to Cruz. “How is he?”

“Still in surgery,” I tell her as I also give her a hug. As a man in scrubs enters the room my eyes are on him and he immediately has my full attention.

“You all can see Agent Morgan now,” He says and my gaze shoots to J.J.

“A bullet grazed his arm,” she explains quickly. “He’s fine.”

I nod and take my seat again, “I’m gonna stay here. I’ll call you when I have any news.” They all nod and turn to follow the man.

Penelope turns back to me. “Hey,” she says grabbing my attention. “I’ll be right back.” I nod to her as she follows Cruz and J.J.

I was pacing the room when another man in Scrubs enters the room, “Agent?”

“How is he?” I ask quickly and suck in a breath, trying to prepare for the worst.

“Incredibly lucky,” he starts, and I let out the breath shakily. “Two millimeters to the right and the bullet would have torn through the carotid artery. It nicked the smaller vessels, but we stopped the bleeding. You can see him now.” He led me to Spencer’s room and he looked so fragile laying in the hospital bed. I sat next to him in the cheap chair and called J.J. to give her the news. Penelope joined me in the room and began setting a few small Doctor Who figures on the table in front of Spencer.

“Wouldn’t it be great if he wakes up and this is the first thing he sees?” She asks me, smiling. I return her smile and nod before turning back to look at Spencer’s face. I take a deep breath and lean back in the chair to wait for him to wake up. As I’m sitting there my mind wanders back to a night at home, a few weeks ago…

Spencer is laying on his back in our bed and pulls me to him so my head rests on his bare chest. He wraps me in his arms and presses a kiss to the top of my hair. “I love you, so much,” he mumbles into my hair. “It is wonderful that I get to work with you so I’m hardly away from your side, but Y/N, it is also terrifying. What we do is just so dangerous, and I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.” I can feel him take a deep breath as he squeezes me tighter.

I let him hold me for a moment before I pull back so I can look into his eyes as I speak, “And I love you. I know you always have my back in the field, and I always have yours. As long as we are together, and we are always protecting each other, we are going to be fine. I’ll always have your 6, Spence.” I stretch up to kiss him before curling back against his chest and falling asleep there.

That night we slept completely wrapped around each other. I always sleep the best when he is with me and I know that he is safe. And I know I do the same for him, so without thinking I reach out and hold his hand. If he is going to heal, he needs his rest so I will do what I can to let him know I’m here.

After a while, Spencer wakes up. His eyes search the room for a moment before focusing on the toys Penelope sat out in front of him, and he smiles. “Hey,” I whisper to him as to not startle him. “Look who is finally awake.” I beam at him as he turns his eyes to meet mine. Penelope grabs a nurse and they come in to check on Spencer’s vitals and bandaging. Once they give us the all clear I leave Penelope with Spencer so I can go search for something for Spencer to eat. He asks for Jello, which makes me laugh.

As I’m around the corner from Spencer’s room I hear it. A single gunshot. I drop the tray I’m holding and pull out my gun as I run the few steps to the room. Penelope is holding Spencer’s gun and there is an orderly on the floor bleeding. I can see a gun in his waistband.

Penelope is shaking as she starts to speak, “I didn't... he's moving, okay. I didn't know how loud. I can't hear except for my heart, cause it feels like it’s gonna come out. Can that happen? Physically? Can your heart burst out of your chest? And what is this ringing? My ears don't pop for like a week after I fly and this is like that. That's gonna drive me bonkers. Am I yelling? Because it feels like I might be yelling.” She is not yelling at all, her voice is little more than a shaky whisper as Spencer gently takes the gun from her hands.

“You saved my life. Can you hear me?” Spencer asks her, as Penelope’s eyes search his face.

She looks so surprised and then relieved as she nods, “Yeah, I heard that! That makes it better. Thank you for saying that!” She leans forward to gingerly hug him.

“Thank you for doing it,” He replies as he hugs her back. When they pull apart, they both look at me. “Hey, where is my Jello?” Is the first thing Spencer asks me as I shake my head.

He almost dies twice in only a few hours, and all the man cares about is the fact that his Jello is now splattered on the floor of the hallway. “I’ll have a nurse get you some. Apparently, I cannot let you out of my sight.” I smile and kiss him. But I know he is okay, and we are all going to be fine.

#my fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #mgg #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x Y/N #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fic #Mathew Gray Gubler #CM #Criminal Minds

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