#grape's fics.

[reidsgfbf]

under pressure || s. reid

description : in which reader forgets their weighted blanket, but spencer is more than happy to be their substitute

word count : 791 words!

notes : gn! reader, implied neurodivergent! reader, morgan gets bullied

Something you had always struggled with at work was understimulation. You never allowed yourself to stim, mostly for fear of judgement, but also because you feared it wasn’t professional for a seasoned BAU agent to stim in front of your coworkers.

Today was not that much different. After a quick bathroom break to stim happily now that you and the team were on the jet back to Quantico after a gruelling case in Denver, Colorado, you had returned to your spot on the sofa, rummaging through your go-bag to try and find your weighted blanket, only to remember you’d foolishly left it at home in your haste to get to the jet on time for the briefing after Hotch had called you about the case.

A little sigh escaped you. Luckily, most of the team were too preoccupied to hear your dismay; Hotch and Rossi sleeping, JJ and Emily playing snap on the games table, Morgan listening to his MP3 player and Spencer reading. It was him who heard your noise of consternation, and he looked up from his book. Upon seeing your perturbed expression, he closed it and inched out of his seat, approaching you.

“Are… you okay?” he asked, slightly nervously.

“I’m fine.” You told him, but it was clear he didn’t believe you.

Spencer raised a brow. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t have sighed like that. Now answer my question. Are you okay?”

Another sigh escaped you. “I forgot to pack my weighted blanket.” you admitted awkwardly. “I’m feeling really badly understimulated and I need some deep pressure.”

Spencer paused. “Deep pressure?” he repeated, momentarily dumbfounded before a bashful flush painted his cheeks pink. “Uh, would you like me to be your substitute?” he offered timidly.

You paused. Spencer Reid? Offering to be your weighted blanket? The opportunity was way too good to pass up.

“Yes.” you nodded in confirmation, moving to lie down on the sofa, and beckoning Spencer closer. He hesitantly did so, before pausing.

“Are you sure?” he asked, just to confirm. You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, but a small grin tugged at your lips.

“Just crush me, Dr. Reid.” you replied, so he gingerly laid on top of you. “Put more of your weight on me.” you ordered and he hesitated.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Spencer protested shyly.

“Put your weight on me!” you laughed, and he did so after another moment’s hesitation, sensing that you really did need it. You relaxed under him as you felt his weight on you, a blissful smile on your face.

You murmured your gratitude, and promptly fell asleep under Spencer, who smiled in astonishment at how fast you’d succumbed to the Sandman. Though, admittedly, his eyes were getting heavy too… and your soft and slow breathing was lulling him to sleep… Surely you wouldn’t mind if he took a quick cat nap, would you? With that decided, he fell asleep too, his snoring mingling with yours.

Unbeknownst to the two of you sleeping beauties, the rest of the team had noticed what was going on, and even Hotch and Rossi had woken up. Morgan grinned.

“Oh, babygirl is going to flip if she doesn’t get any evidence of the two lovebirds snuggling.” he laughed, taking out his phone to take a picture, Emily following suit.

JJ rolled her eyes. “Leave them alone.” she scolded the two, with no real heat, as she too took out her phone and snapped a few pictures of you and Spencer slumbering together.

“Let them be.” Hotch, ever the hypocrite, added, as he also snapped a picture that may or may not eventually become his wallpaper for the next month.

It wasn’t until the plane was due to land that someone woke you and Spencer up, shaking your shoulders.

“Come on kids, the jet’s gonna land.” Rossi announced. Spencer blinked blearily as he slowly woke up, before jolting up and straddling you when he realised what position he’d woken up in. You did so too, accidentally smacking your forehead against Spencer’s making the both of you groan and hold a hand against your injured brows.

Morgan snorted. “You two really are made for each other. You’re both as graceful as baby deer on ice.” You and Spencer glared at the bald man, who raised his hands up in surrender.

“Shut it, baldilocks.” you grumbled tiredly and Spencer snickered, causing Morgan to fake a gasp of faux indignance.

“Agent.” Hotch scolded you, though there was a grin on his face.

“Sorry Morgan, for pointing out your shiny bald head.” you apologised half-heartedly, making the rest of the team laugh at Morgan’s affronted splutters. A little smile appeared on your face. Who knew forgetting your weighted blanket would lead to this?

[strangergraphics]

summer fruit dividers:

please like and credit if you use, reblogs are appreciated! thank you! 💕

[yatori-morgana]

I'm fuckign posting fanfic for once

Contents and warnings: ur js making out tbh, I used literally no names and minimal dialogue

»Floyd Leech x gn!Reader

————————————

His lips are softer than expected. Perhaps it's to balance out the sharpness of his teeth, the teeth lightly tugging on your lower lip. It's hard to remember how or why this started, and while he was slow at first, he's anything but now. His hands are somehow everywhere all at once, squeezing you close and mapping out new territories.

Much like his abnormally long tongue, for that matter. Long enough to make you gag if he wanted, yet it doesn't. There's an underlying care buried beneath the desperate pawing and sharp nips. Did he have candy earlier? You taste artificial grape.

His wandering hands never stay in one place; he's either indecisive or genuinely wants it all. It's hard to tell with him. Similarly, the noises he makes are ever-fluctuating. Some are breathy and quiet, and others are predatory growls. He whines when you bite back, but his breathing unsteadying and grip tightening bely his complaint. It's never enough for him. You're never close enough, constantly pulled by various positions of his hands.

He scrapes his teeth over your tongue when he pulls back slightly, only to push the back of your head and force you back in. He was definitely fighting an intrusive thought.

He's so open with his wants. It's not hard to tell he likes when you tug his hair or dot his lips with pinpricks of blood. He's going to be a very rough lover, not that it wasn't expected.

It's getting too heated.

"Nooo~!" Comes the whine when you break away. He looks like a kicked puppy, reaching for you again only to be gently pushed away. Another whine. Someone could round the corner any second. The point makes him begrudgingly relent, a pout on his face. His lips are spotted with pinpricks of red and kiss-swollen. It's a good look for him.

He seems to flirt with a mood swing, only to pick you up and swing you around. He lets out one of those familiar raucous laughs at your reaction. When you're safely sat back down on terra firma, your face is immediately peppered with more kisses. "I love you~!" He declared with all the confidence in the world.

Is this love? It's easy to question.

The answer somehow comes easier.

When the sentiment is returned, he suddenly becomes uncharacteristically sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck, averting his eyes and holding back an awkward smile. His cheeks are reddening, you notice. Was he always this easy to fluster?

You're squeezed against him all over again, and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. He doesn't say or do anything for maybe a solid minute. Then there's a swaying. Left to right, left to right. It's slow and calming, hardly a movement at all. A tap to his shoulder has him leaning back and blinking in confusion. Oh, he's not falling asleep? It's a comfort thing?

Maybe it reminds him of the oceans waves.

You'll never know because you don't ask for clarification.

He mumbles something about wanting to cuddle more and doesn't seem too intent on staying in the same place. There's a pause, but as you search his face, you find yourself relaxing. There's no pressure, no other suggestion. Just wide, hopeful eyes. He's always been one to wear his true emotions on full display when it's safe to.

Safe.

The idea makes you smile.

"Okay."

————————————

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Tag list

@kimdourden

[sweetmage]

Click for full res! 🍇

[drenched-in-sunlight]

saying this as respectfully as possible but. Do not put fandom content creators on a pedestal. We are also just fans contributing to a community just as you are. We have boundary on our own work and that’s it. What I say is not and should not be considered sth the whole fandom should listen to. I’m just a normal ass person ranting about things on my blog. If it does not have a fandom tag for others to engage in, do not make it out to be me trying to start fights or addressing the whole community. Because it’s not.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again, my art, my lore talk, is biased. I’ve never tried to hide that I view Marika a certain way and will always develop my theory following that base assumption.

Aside from translation stuffs and pointing out in-game items, everything else I say you can look at it, agree or disagree, and move on to form your own opinions. Just because I draw stuffs doesn’t mean you get to saddle me with responsibilities about managing fandom expectations. What the hell? I’m a fan artist, I’m the last person who you should look at for “leaderism” (?) WHAT?

I can and will be a hater in my own space, like I know sometimes other artists will just post their stuffs and not engage too heavily with fandom, and for a while I did try to do that here (because I’m already a dramatic ass on twitter), that’s just not me though.

You will get art and you will get my opinions as well.

[the-barefoot-hatter]

a freshly human bill AU where he struggles with eating... not because the fear of medication or the texture or the act of eating is troubling... but because the taste is all wrong now.

Everything tastes off now, things he knows taste good aren't anymore, and it's all because the last time Bill had access to living taste buds was when he was inside Ford Pines, and Ford Pines is a freak who eats concerningly old expired food like starving raccoon and drinks coffee that can double as motor oil

the billford kicks in trying to find foods Bill actually likes idk not important, what is important is what is WRONG with Ford's palate

[jesterfairy]

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭: 𝐀 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭

A͏ D͏a͏r͏k͏ R͏o͏m͏a͏n͏c͏e͏ J͏o͏k͏e͏r͏ F͏i͏c͏ 🖤

💚♠︎♦︎♣♦︎♠︎💚♠︎♦︎♣♦︎♠︎💚♠︎♦︎♣♦︎♠︎💚♠︎♦︎♣♦︎♠︎💚

Status: This story is still in progress.

Current word count: 139,298

💀ATTENTION💀 This fic is morally bankrupt, emotionally devastating, and absolutely addictive. You will question your morals. You might fall in love with a psychopath. And yes, somehow—despite all the harrowing triggers—this is, in fact, a romance.

*You’ll need water, a fan, and maybe a therapist.

Fic Summary: Alina Vale dreams of escaping her dead-end life as a diner waitress, finding solace in painting Gotham’s haunting shadows. But when a routine trip to the bank turns into a living nightmare, she finds herself face-to-face with the Joker—a man as captivating as he is terrifying.

As his twisted games unravel her defenses, Alina is forced to confront the pull he has over her, a collision of fear and desire she can’t control. Trapped in his world of chaos and power, survival means facing not only him but the darker parts of herself he’s brought to life.

A story of obsession, control, and the intoxicating allure of letting go.

Genres: Dark romance, Gothic romance, Stalker romance, kidnapper x victim, predator x prey

Pairings: TDK Joker x Female OC

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: non-con, r@pe, extremely dubious consent, violence, psychological manipulation, kidnapping, stalking, slow-burn, toxic relationships, trauma bonding, childhood trauma, graphic sexual content, twisted power dynamics, stockholm syndrome, psychological torture, self-harm, sexual assault, gaslighting, emotional abuse, dead dove do not eat

Chapters:

Chapter 1: The Game Begins

Chapter 2: Aftermath

Chapter 3: Painted Shadows

Chapter 4: Joker's POV 🃏

Chapter 5: The Edge of Oblivion

Chapter 6: The Price of Defiance

Chapter 7: The Weight of Silence

Chapter 8: Twisted Comforts

Chapter 9: At His Mercy

Chapter 10: Cracks

Chapter 11: Marked

Chapter 12: The Things that Hurt

Chapter 13: Almost

Chapter 14: Claimed

Chapter 15: A Broken, Fragile Thing

Chapter 16: A God in the Dark

Chapter 17: Joker's POV 🃏

Chapter 18: Where No One Will Ever Find You

Chapter 19: Be Good, Doll

Chapter 20: The Maiden and The Monster

Chapter 21: Beneath the Mask

Chapter 22: Jack

Chapter 23: Starve The Beast

Chapter 24: The Alcove

Chapter 25: Say It Again

Chapter 26: The Altar and the Offering

___. ♡ ✦ ♧━━━♢ ✦ ♠️ ✦ ♢━━━♧ ✦ ♡. ___

Thank you for sacrificing your sanity to read this! If you screamed, blushed, or blacked out from emotional damage, tell me everything!

Comments, asks, messages, and reblogs are more than serotonin boosts—they’re what motivate me to keep digging deeper into this unholy mess. So thank you, truly! Every single reaction helps fuel my next chapter. 😌

Please let me know if you'd like me to add you to the tag list 💚

[ladykettlechips]

The Taste of Grape - Kanthony Drabble

I was thinking about the scene where Anthony huffily eats some grapes, and I was inspired to write a drabble about it. It may not be great, but I enjoyed writing it. Such fun as always~ I will pop it in my drabbles collection on AO3 tomorrow maybe, but I thought it'd be good to try and post more here on tumblr, so enjoy~ Word count: 227 ------ Whenever he was particularly nervous, or perhaps thinking too much, Anthony Bridgerton had a habit of eating grapes.

He would take them by the handful, popping them into his mouth one at a time before chewing them at a rapid pace. Then he would eat another, and another, and another, until finally they had all disappearing, the branches left bare.

It was a habit of his that Kate had picked up on quickly. So, upon marrying her habitually worried husband, she had made sure to ask the staff of Bridgerton House to keep stock of some grapes, lest her husband needed to worry and eat at the same time.

She had done the same for their honeymoon. No matter where they ended up, there would always be a bowl of grapes for Anthony to chew on if his mind was preoccupied with doubts. Of course, that did not seem to be the case while they were away, or even when they had returned home—he was far too focused on Kate and being lost in their mutual pleasure.

That did not mean the grapes went to waste. Even when her husband was not worried or nervous, he still enjoyed the burst of a grape upon his tongue, particularly when he stole it from Kate’s mouth with a kiss, the taste of grape still fresh on her lips.

[rainchyna]

𓆩♡𓆪 episode thirteen: Despite Everything.

it's me! despite everything, it's still me. we are so back.

1:34 am — hotel room. wednesday, sep. 4th, 1996.

You were still awake, despite being exhausted beyond belief, you still couldn’t fall asleep. The stress of not knowing where your career was heading was getting the best of you. You were just laying there, not moving as you watched life outside the bedroom window. Apart from a car driving by every once in a while, nothing was happening.

You were resting your head on Hunter's shoulder, his muscular arms around your waist loosely as he faced you in his sleep. He looked so peaceful, handsome, a tiny snore occasionally escaping his lips. Careful as not to wake him up, you untangle yourself from him, quietly tucking him in, and slowly, you make your way to the bathroom. You close the door behind you and sigh, then you sit on top of the toilet’s lid. Your mind began racing yet again, everything was going so well, and here comes Shawn Michaels. You wondered how many people have had that same thought as you.

That heel turn was really getting to your head, you were y/n y/l/n, the women’s champion. The most credible one Vince has had in years, but now, you were y/n y/l/n, Shawn Michaels’ ‘girlfriend’, then the women’s champion. How long will it be until your championship loses its value again? What if you can’t keep the promise you made to Alundra?

You look up, your reflection in the mirror looking back into your eyes.

It’s you.

A knock at the door startles you, you exhale, you must’ve been in here for a while. You get up and open the door, Hunter standing there shirtless, one hand rubbing his eye and the other running through his messy blond locks. “Where’d you go?” he asks quietly, voice heavy with sleep. You sigh, “I couldn’t sleep.” you admit. He gently caresses your cheek with his knuckles, his other hand coming to hold your hip through his t-shirt that you wore to bed. “What’s wrong, angel?” he coos, pressing a kiss against your head, as he pulls you against his broad chest.

“Stressed.” you say, voice breaking a little. Hunter frowns at the sound of exhaustion in your voice, he hated how defeated you sounded. He lifted you up, his big hands on your thighs, holding them around his hips. He turned off the bathroom light, not caring to close the door. He brought you back to bed, holding you tightly against him as he sits on the edge, “do you wanna talk about it, my love?” he asked, his hand gently massaging your neck.

You cuddle into him some more, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “Can we talk about it in the morning?” you quietly mumble into his skin, Hunter holds you tighter, “of course, baby. Anything you need. Tell me what you need from me now.” he says, voice still deep.

“Love me.” you mutter, and he immediately does as he’s told. Hunter laid you down on the bed, climbing over you and pressing soft kisses on your neck, then down between your thighs.

6:00 am— airport, germany to italy. Estimated time of arrival, 7:35.

The flight from germany to italy wasn’t a long one, under two hours. Everyone was at the airport, waiting for the flight to be called. Some were at a cafe getting breakfast, some were asleep in their seats as it was still early, some chatting and minding their own business. You were sat on a three seat bench by a big glass wall that showed planes on the outside, taking flight, landing, rerouting as the clouds rolled by. Hunter was laying his head on your lap, he was asleep and covered with your leather jacket. You ran fingers through his soft waves, gazing outside the window. On the opposite bench sat Shawn, Chyna asleep with her head on his shoulder, and Lita asleep on her shoulder.

Shawn’s eyes were burning holes into your body, but you completely ignored him, something you hadn’t done in a long time. You didn’t even give him the slightly annoyed ‘good morning’ today, oh, he knew you were pissed at him for the heel turn he forced on you. But he was also slightly mad, a little irritated when he had no right to be. You were wearing light wash, low waisted jeans which fit you like a glove, but also showed off your toned abs, and a black fitted cropped shirt.

 How fucking dare you look this good at six in the morning? What annoyed him even further was the fact that he could see hickeys on your neck, your poor attempt (if you could call it that) at hiding them with keeping your hair down being nothing but that. A poor attempt.

He looked down at his sleeping friend, yeah, well, he clearly was up all night. Shawn looked back up at you, wondering, is there a way, or even a world in which you’d get over the little stunt he and Vince pulled on you? Would you forgive and forget? Not forgive, nor forget? Forgive, and not forget? Not forgive, and forget-

His train of thought was cut by Chyna shifting a little, he gently patted her head. His eyes drifted back to you.

Hunter had sat up, stretching as he yawned. Hunter placed his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him and kissing your temple. “Do you want a coffee, baby? I can go grab us sandwiches, too.” you say, your fingers intertwined with his. “You’re such a godsend.” Hunter says, kissing your temple again. 

‘How clingy.’ Shawn thought, rolling his eyes a little then looking out the window. As if that wouldn’t be him, or even worse. 

You and Hunter got up, heading to a random cafe at your gate. Your hand was in his as you two sat in a booth after putting your order, Hunter sat next you and you leaned against him. You pulled out a small journal and a pen from your speedy bag, the journal you wrote all your wrestling related thoughts and ideas in. After talking to Hunter about everything that was flooding your mind earlier, you had felt significantly better. You actually felt a little silly for letting it overwhelm you as much as it did, and as you began writing down, Hunter teased you a bit. “Someone’s inspired” he chuckled, jokingly pinching your cheek. You smiled, writing down all the ways you could reinvent your character while doing that stupid angle with Shawn. Even if it was stupid, you were going to make it unforgettable, like you.

“Thanks to my lovely boyfriend.” you smile.

The waiter brought your order, two coffees and two breakfast sandwiches, you look at the dark brown drink in the white mug.

Your reflection on the surface looked back into your eyes, you smiled.

It’s still you.

9:37 pm — monday, sep. 9th, RAW.

You were sitting in the dressing room chair, obnoxious gear on. Tonight, you and Shawn wore white and gold, chains and jewellery adorned your skirt and halter neck top, along with your white cowboy hat. You had been slowly regaining your confidence throughout the day, thanks to your incredible friends, and more advice from the Undertaker. You were beginning to feel like the true star you were, unwanted heel turn be damned, you were going to do what you knew best. Be the best champion, like you always have been.

As you finished applying your makeup, you placed your championship belt in your lap, grabbing some tissues and cleaning it. As you wiped the leather and metal plates, someone walked into the dressing room. Shawn, of course. He didn’t really matter to you, you two had an interview with Vince coming up and some commentary duties, he was probably here to get ready, too.

Shawn, like always, shamelessly ogled you, staring at your legs, and the cleavage your top left out. His mouth went dry as he peeled his eyes away from you, always a sight for the sorest of eyes. 

He grabbed a hairbrush and sat in the chair next to yours, “are you ready?” he asked. You didn't even spare him a glance, continuing to clean up your belt. “Mhm.” you hum with a nod, Shawn looked at you for a second, damn, you didn’t even acknowledge his presence.

He applied some gel on his hair, absentmindedly brushing it as he looked at you through the mirror. You both sat there, in silence, and the tension was so painfully present between you. Shawn finished brushing his hair, then put on sunglasses, he looked at you again, trying to think of what he can say.

“Look-..” he began, only for you to immediately cut him off, “Don’t.” you say. 

He quietly slumped into his seat, “I’m not going to let you ruin my mood.” you add, finally looking at him. He quickly looked away, hiding behind his shaded frames. “Do you want us to work together?” you asked. He looked back at you, almost eagerly answering, “I do, I really do.”

“Then, don't ever do anything behind my back ever again. If you want to do something, you come to me.” you say, tone strict. He nods immediately, “Yes, okay.”

You exhale, you were going to make the best out of this heel run.

You look up at yourself in the mirror, confidence beaming through your eyes.

Despite Everything, It’ll always be you.

[grape-jucie-dog]

**stumbles in looking about as healthy as any of the Athenas**

Heiiiiii

So, question, the blue details on Hart's design, are those a scrunchy and bracelets?

Also, sneak peek

Athena is already complaining I didn't sketch her in yet so byee

**stumbles back out**

Damn you should stop with the coffee, you look like the next Thena rn/vlh

Anyways, those are scrunchies! :3 That was kind of a last minute decision I made for Hart, but it felt right to add in for... reasons I can't quite say until chapter 6 is out 👀

LOOK AT MY GIRL THOUGH?? Her braid looks so soft

Not Athena complaining 💀 go draw Paisley again or something

"That's not- HEY."

Bye bestie, don't die bestie 🫡

[st-just]

Okay I'll stop making variants of 'shipping culture, huh?' posts after this I promise but I do really find the phenomena of, like, migratory fandoms that just latch onto some pair of characters and then hollow them out to fill with preexisting archetypes with a preexisting dynamic and a canon of story tropes that will be used regardless of how/if they fit the characters' ostensible setting and situations, like, sociologically fascinating? Like what work is the 'fan' part of fanfiction even doing at this point?

[blakbonnet]

for @spirker Connie's tiny!ed fic where ed is barely one thimble tall wrecked me actually 🥺

[nicnacsnonsense]

I really appreciate all the tumblr users out here being horny on main for Rhys Darby; it really helps me as an ace person make sure I’m being respectful and representative of your beliefs when writing from Ed’s POV.

[pinacoladamatata]

local baby sister of minthara bats eyelashes and asks for help committing murder, more at 11

[froggies-bloggies]

I want to put Jax in a box made of sharp edges and glass and shake him around and then make him lick his own wounds

[aloysiavirgata]

Mulder vs. can of dolma

This is so fucking funny - Trader Joe’s canned dolmas are an absolute staple in this 75% Ashkenazi/ 25% Irish-my grandmother-was-from-Waterford house.

A proper - 100 word Drabble for both of my grandmothers, lamb.

***

Mulder looks at the can reproachfully. “There’s no reason to have done it this way.”

Scully, having neatly deboned a chicken in the time it took him to let the dolmades know he wasn’t mad, just disappointed, huffs hair from her mouth.

“Open the goddamned can,” she hisses. Flecks of raw meat, of skin, cling to her wrists.

Mulder scowls. “They put the opening ring on the BOTTOM, printed everything on the TOP, it’s preposter-“

Scully glares. “I haven’t time for this. Dinner is -“

“Thirty minutes,” he acknowledges.

To have such minor, tremendous irritations.

He smiles into the advancing dusk.