#how will I ever be able to fill this empty void?

[science-lings]

I’m gonna.. stare into space for a few hours…

[mirroringshards]

bpd is actually so crazy i cannot tell you how genuinely intense everything feels.

i get so, so upset during episodes over the smallest of things. it isnt just "oh im sad" either its fucking cutting myself, wanting to die, hyperventilating and begging and pleading and making a plan to kill myself because what im feeling genuinely seems like the end of the world. theres a void inside of me that can only be filled by a love so intense that it drives me to insanity. i will overeat, spend unnecessarily, hurt myself, cling and depend on people who give me the slightest bit of attention, send suggestive things of myself to others, and put myself in dangerous situations just to feel something. that void can only ever be truly filled by an fp. without one, i feel so, so empty. i truly feel like im nothing without them. their whole existence, getting to see and talk to them everyday, getting to be with them, is the whole reason that i continue to survive. the moment theyre gone, even for five minutes, its back to nothingness. i cannot feel without them, i physically cannot bring myself to. but having a fp is so, so painful. their mood determines mine. how they treat me will determine how i feel. everyone else compared to them feels miniscule and unimportant. i could be seriously harmed by another person or admired by another person and it wouldnt matter, because the only person whos opinion of me matters is my fp. i would cut off all of my friends just to be with them and them only. i would do anything to stay with them. and when they leave, you have to understand that my whole purpose has been torn away from me. my whole reason for continuing to live gets fucking ripped away from me. and when they ignore me? i put myself in dangerous situations, i hurt myself, just so theyll come and find me and save me, take care of me, feel bad for me. i try to make them feel the same pain they make me feel by ignoring them, purposely triggering them, trying to get back at them. i hate them, because what could be more important to you than me? i put you above all else, why cant you do the same? nobody else, nothing else, should be more important or as important than me, because thats how i feel about you. and fuck, it hurts so bad knowing my partners will never feel as intensely for me as i will for them, unless im their fp. it hurts knowing that theyll truly never feel the same level of obsession and want for me that i feel for them. that theyll never be able to fully return those feelings. but its so hard being mutual fps with someone. it drives you insane. it can lead to horrid situations.

bpd is so, so hard. i hate this disorder.

[sanemistar]

irreplaceable — kento nanami

contents ★ nanami x fem!reader, heavy angst, hurt no comfort, major character death, 0.6k+ wc. requested for my milestone event.

event m.list ★ jjk m.list

it had been well over a year since kento's death, and your life had turned upside down entirely. your days had become tasteless, your life had become dull and gloomy. you lost everything the moment he left, you lost your heart which was taken by him on the day of his funeral, you lost your cheerful, bright self and became nothing but an empty, hollow shell that was so lifeless as if it was dead. you went from someone who loved life to someone who barely lived, waiting for the day you die just so you could be reunited with kento once more. but most importantly, the biggest loss of all that you had ever experienced was the loss of the love of your life, the one and only man you’d ever loved.

to you, kento was a lover that comes only once in a lifetime, he was simply irreplaceable.

your tears began falling down like heavy rain as you sobbed uncontrollably, sorrow washed over your heart yet again. you leaned against the wall as you let your body fall down and collapse on the ground.

then you remembered the words of your friends who told you that time would heal, and that you’d eventually move on and find someone new. but neither time healed you nor did you find someone new.

you tried going on dates with multiple men, desperately trying to find someone who was as good as kento, you kept searching desperately but to no avail. how could you ever find someone like that? your heart only recognized kento, and it refused to give in to someone that was not him.

“i miss you ken..” you mourned his loss all over again as your heart clenched painfully.

“i honestly can’t tell what's more tragic: the fact that i keep looking for you wherever i go, or that you're never there anymore.” you spoke in between your heavy sobs.

"i'm desperately looking for you in everyone i meet, but none of them is you.” you proceeded. no matter how many men you met, and how hard you tried. this would remain the truth, no one else could ever come close to kento. none of them could ever be nearly as amazing and loving as him, he was basically the perfect man. but unfortunately, you lost him. and you had to try your hardest to survive without him, how awfully cruel life was.

you lifted yourself back up and headed to the nightstand next to the bed that you used to share with kento where a picture of you and him was neatly placed. you grabbed the picture and carefully held it in your hands, the moment you did you immediately chuckled. memories of that day vividly resurfaced in your mind as if they were only yesterday, it was a slightly blurry selfie that kento took when the two of you went on your first amusement park date together for your first anniversary celebration upon your insistence because his arm was longer than yours so it made more sense that he’d be the one taking it, but because he didn’t know how to take pictures it came out a bit shaky. regardless, you insisted that you keep it to remember that precious moment forever.

no matter how much time would pass, your grief would still remain. the part of you that was broken could never be fixed, but you would try your best to live on still. because you were so sure that was what he would’ve wanted. the many memories of you with kento that he left you with would make it a little less difficult, and would maybe be able to serve as the only condolence that would fill in the lonely void.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @sylusdoll @stunies @17020 @itoshivy

[pouring-rains]

buzzin' (m.s)

cw; rough angst, drug use, drug addiction, yelling

wc: 1.9k

"Fuck-fuck- goddamnit," you say, pacing around frantically your hands going to your hair and pulling out of stress and worry, hurriedly looking through all of your stash spots trying to find any last pills you had left.

Matt was supposed to arrive home soon, and you didn't realize how low you were on your substances, and you knew that the longer you went without the worse your withdrawal would become, and you were unable to hit up your dealer as Matt would be at the house for the rest of the night.

Matt was completely oblivious to your worsening coping habits, unaware of how reliant you were on pills and other substances to make it through the day-- of how desperate you were to feel different, that you were willing to do just about anything, for another bump or another drink.

It wasn't his fault he didn't notice, he's just been busy with work most days, and he was home less and less, only home on some weekends and nights, but you weren't able to talk as much as you used to, matt tired by the end of his long days filming and working so he was always ready to sleep once he was home.

First, it just started as a little fun, you'd been lonely after Matt started coming home less, and you needed something to fill the void even for a little bit, so you took a vicodin, there were some in the bathroom left over from when you'd dislocated your elbow, and you figured that if they were prescribed to you then what was really the harm--and how fucking wrong you were.

That night you sat on your bed for hours staring at the ceiling and feeling like your entire body was buzzing and filled with pleasureful static--your mind the most blank it's had ever been, and ever since-- you'd never stopped chasing it.

Hearing the door creak open, you stop in your tracks looking toward the sound, your beautiful eyes once bright and full now sunken in and empty, and your youthful skin now looking dull and worn.

"hey baby, how was your day," Matt said while setting his things down and heading over to where you were standing silently in the living room and giving you a warm hug, you could feel the tension in your body leak out as his body meets yours, and you hug him back tightly.

"my day was fine, I didn't really do anything much but clean a few things up and watch a couple of shows and movies while you were gone, what about you?" you say trying to keep your voice steady and normal, not wanting to give anything about your condition away.

"well chris was being a dumbass all day he wouldn't stop fucking burping and acting like a fucking idiot, and nick..." is as much as you register before you get lost in your thoughts unintentionally blocking his voice out, your mind going to how you were going to survive the night without anything to pick you up.

"...are you still listening?" Matt asks waving his hand in front of your eyes to pull you from your trance, "shit, sorry Matt, I'm just kind of tired, didn't mean to ignore you," you say apologetically as you wince at your obvious disengagement in what he's saying.

"oh, that's fine, do you wanna head to bed? I'm kinda beat too," he says with a chuckle. "yeah actually, I'd love that I just feel like I can't stay awake right now," you reply trying to sound tired, voicing out a fake yawn in hopes that he believes you.

"yeah, lemme grab my shit real quick, and then ill head up to the bedroom," he tells you before heading over to the bag he'd set down previously, you turn around to start up the stairs knowing he'd be up soon before going into the bedroom.

You quickly shut off the lights to try and prevent him from getting a closer look at you, the withdrawal starting to set in even further, your frame beginning to shiver. your stomach starts to twist into painful knots as you try to coax yourself into sleep to make them go away when you hear the door open and a shuffle before you feel the bed dip down across from you when matt gets into bed next to you.

"goodnight babe," he says gently while covering himself with the blanket and resting his head on his pillow, "yeah, g'night matty," you say softly, controlling your voice's shakiness to the best of your ability.

Soon enough he fell asleep, but as much as you tried, you were unable to-- every crevice of your dependent brain stuck on the thought of drugs, desperate for any little bit to take this feeling away the horrible pain of your body and mind working against you willing to corrupt every nerve ending with immense pain until you filled your body with drugs to soothe the pain of it all--mental and physical.

After a while the pain got unbearable, and you caved. picking up your phone you shot your dealer a quick text before getting up out of bed very slowly trying to make the least amount of noise possible, intent on not waking up Matt.

After making it out of the bed with minimal noise, you shuffle over to the door opening it slowly, it creaks slightly but not enough to rouse Matt from his sleep.

You close the door carefully before walking downstairs, grabbing your purse, and pulling out some cash. Stepping outside you wait impatiently for your dealer to get there, your skin getting goosebumps from the cold weather as your stomach knots in pain.

Finally, after a few minutes of waiting, headlights beam onto you as his car pulls up. hurriedly you pull out your cash while he rolls his window down.

"here's your usual," he says, pulling out a little baggy with an assortment of colored pills roughly 10 or so inside. "thanks," you mumble giving him the cash before snatching the bag from his hand and scurrying back inside, shutting the door behind you softly.

"thank fuck," you mumble to yourself walking over to the counter and snatching two baby blue pills out of the baggy and putting them on the countertop before grabbing a salt shaker left on the counter and smashing the pills with the flat edge. grabbing your wallet you pull out your worn debit card using it to line up the ground pills before grabbing a bill out of your wallet, rolling it into a straw-like shape, and snorting the powder.

"what the fuck are you doing?" snapping your head up you look towards the stairs, seeing Matt standing there looking angry, his mouth curled into a frown and his hair mussed with sleep. Your face pales as you realize what he just saw, and what this means for you–fuck.

Tears start to brim at your waterline as you begin to panic, “nothing matt, just- just go back to bed,” you say your voice quivering with worry as you try to stand in front of the blatant evidence of what you were doing–even though he already saw everything.

“no, I know what the fuck I just saw, what the fuck are you doing!?” he expresses, starting to make his way down the rest of the stairs before you know it he’s standing right in front of you staring over your shoulder at the drugs littered across the table.

Taking a shallow inhale you move away from him going over to the kitchen sink and splashing your burning face with cool water and looking at matt’s still form, his eyes still transfixed on the pills on the table, just as you're about to open your mouth he turns suddenly anger beaming from his face and his body shaking.

“why the fuck are you doing this shit, what the fuck is wrong with you?” he says angrily, running his hand through his knotty hair almost as if he was searching through his head for an answer as to why you were doing these such things, knowing perfectly how horrible and addicting they were.

“because I don't know what the fuck else to do matt, why the fuck do you think!” you shout clenching your fists into balls and digging your nails into your palm trying to alleviate this stress in some way. 

“well, I'm certainly not fucking sure why you started this shit in the first place, why the fuck would you do this? you know how I fucking feel about drugs especially shit like this!” pushing back his hair once again he looks up at you, his anger losing momentum as he fully takes in your broken-down appearance, seeing for the first time how truly beat down you look.

“because I can’t fucking do this anymore matt, I fucking hate living like this, I hate my life, and your never fucking home I don't know what I'm supposed to fucking do anymore!” your voice breaking in the middle of your sentences as more and more tears start to roll down your cheeks.

“I-i- don't know how to stop anymore, it just got out of hand so fast and now I can't get through a day without them matt, I don't know what to do,” you say defeatedly, done with lashing out and leaving only exhaustion in place of your previous anger. For a second there was only pure silence after you finished speaking, assuming Matt was either going to leave or was now just ignoring you, until you felt his presence beside you, his warm body wrapping around your clammy figure.

“I- don’t know what to say, I’m so sorry I didn't know everything was getting this bad baby–why didn’t you talk to me? why did you have to turn to this?” he says, pulling you closer while you conceal yourself within his body trying to sink into him in an attempt to disappear so you wouldn't have to deal with all of it anymore–so you wouldn’t have to answer him, tell him how you made a bad mistake and it had snowballed into this big problem you weren’t sure you could ever fix.

“I- don’t know matt, it was just so fucking overwhelming I didn’t know what to do, I’m so so sorry matt,” your tears starting to leak into his hoodie as he tucks you impossibly closer against him trying his best to shield you from all of the hurt and pain you’re being put through mentally.

While his own heart was breaking into pieces for all the pain you were going through, and all the time he didn’t notice and let you dig yourself deeper into this hole of drug abuse, he was doing his best to help you and make sure you knew he was there for you now. “shh- it’s gonna be okay, we can do this together m’gonna help you get better baby, you’re not gonna feel alone anymore okay? I’m so sorry I haven't been around as much and that it got this bad without me noticing, I'm here now I promise, and I'm here to stay, okay?”

“okay matt,” you sigh, hiccuping into his chest, though it was going to be painful, and absolutely fucking horrible–at least now you had someone there, someone to support you and help you through it, and make sure you were happy, and felt loved–and sometimes that makes all the difference.

taglist : @chaossturns @freshlove-sturn @colorthecosmos444 @anxietyriddenblue @immattsslut @muchloveforhacker @pinksturniolo @mattshighway @sabsturned @fratbrochrisgf @star-neo-love @imwetforyourmom @blahbel668

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Drinkin’ Problem (Steve Rogers One Shot)

Summary: Steve gets as drunk as he’s able after the loss of you.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, angst, sad Steve

WC: 754

Read on Ao3!

Drinkin' Problem - Midland

The bar wasn’t much, just a small, dimly lit hole-in-the-wall where nobody asked questions. Steve preferred it that way. It was one of the few places in Brooklyn where he could be alone, even when the place was packed. The regulars had learned to give him his space, and the bartender—an older man with a gruff demeanor—knew better than to make small talk. He just poured Steve’s drink, slid it across the counter, and moved on.

Steve swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the amber liquid catch the faint light from the jukebox in the corner. It was an old machine, playing country tunes that Steve wasn’t all too familiar with, though they fit the mood. Right now, Drinkin' Problem by Midland was crooning through the speakers, its slow, mournful rhythm syncing perfectly with his thoughts.

They call it a problem, I call it a solution…

The lyrics hit harder than they should have. Steve wasn’t drinking because he liked it. Hell, he could probably go days without touching the stuff if he wanted to. But it wasn’t about the whiskey. It was about *her*.

He took a long, slow sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it slid down his throat, dulling the ache in his chest—but just barely. He’d thought he could handle the pain. After all, he’d survived wars, fought gods, and saved the world more times than he could count. But nothing prepared him for this. For the silence. For the emptiness that swallowed him whole when she was gone.

It wasn’t just her. God, she was a wound that had long since scarred over, even if it never fully healed. But this…this was different. She’d been real. Present. Someone he could’ve built a life with. The life he’d been trying to live in the shadows of being Captain America. But she was gone now. Another casualty in a life full of them.

He could still hear her voice in the quiet moments, the way she’d call his name with that soft laugh of hers. The way she’d lean into him when the world felt too big, too heavy. She’d been his anchor, the one person who didn’t see him as just the man out of time or the symbol of freedom, but as Steve. Just Steve.

Now, all he had left were the memories—and the whiskey to help him live with them.

He downed the rest of his drink, feeling the warmth spread through him, numbing the edges of his grief. For a moment, he thought about leaving the bar. Heading back to the empty apartment that waited for him. But what was the point? The silence there was worse than the noise here. At least here, the clinking of glasses and the hum of the jukebox kept him company, even if they couldn’t fill the void she’d left behind.

Another drink appeared in front of him. He didn’t remember asking for it, but the bartender knew his routine by now. He nodded in silent thanks, lifting the glass to his lips. The whiskey went down smoother this time, or maybe he was just getting used to it.

The song switched, but he barely noticed. The world outside felt like a blur, distant and unimportant. His life had always been about the mission, about fighting for something bigger than himself. But now, what was he fighting for? What was left? The world moved on, as it always did, but Steve Rogers was still here, still stuck in his grief, drowning in memories of the life he’d almost had.

The bar began to thin out as the night wore on, but Steve stayed. He wasn’t ready to face the real world yet. Not without her. Maybe not ever.

He lifted his glass once more, staring into the amber liquid like it held the answers he was looking for. It didn’t. But at least it helped him forget, if only for a little while.

“They call it a problem,” he muttered to himself, echoing the song, “but I call it a solution.”

The bartender caught his eye from across the bar, offering a knowing nod before returning to his work. Steve wasn’t sure how much longer he’d stay here tonight. Maybe just one more drink. Maybe not. But tomorrow? Tomorrow he’d be back.

Because the truth was, this wasn’t just about the whiskey. It wasn’t even about forgetting. It was about holding on to what little pieces of her he still had left.

And for now, that was enough.

[whispersoftheton]

Hello!

Do you think you could write an anthony x reader angst turned fluff/smut fic?

They’ve married out of duty but both have feelings for each other they refuse to admit

Hi! This is also my first fic for this fandom and I got kind of carried away with it, hope you don't mind :) Thank you for requesting btw <3

dont worry the next request i post will have smut in it and im posting that one this weekend >:)

Anthony Bridgerton x F!Reader

Warnings: reader and Anthony are married, pining, death of parents (reader), angst, kissing, fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.4K

The day dawned crisp and clear, sunlight peering through the flowing curtains and illuminating your path along the long hallway of your lavish home. The sounds of maids bustling through the estate and the gravel crackling beneath the horse's hoofs from outside filled your ears. Your mind raced with the many tasks at hand for today as you straightened out your dress. The last ball of the season was a significant one indeed, and you had the honor of hosting it tonight. The last few days were filled with overseeing that every detail of the evening, no matter how small, was managed and executed perfectly. 

As the maids fetched accessories and floral arrangements for you to approve ahead of the festivities, you pondered how your life had drastically changed. A mere three months had passed since your wedding day. Still, it seemed a lifetime ago. You had every reason to be happy, you had married well, living more than comfortably, and your husband was not unkind towards you like others you've heard about. But your marriage to the viscount wasn't exactly the love story of the century, to say the least. 

After the passing of both your parents, Lady Danbury had taken you in as one of her own. Raised you to be a lady of society in every way she saw fit and even sponsored your coming out last season. The very same season, the Queen appointed you as her diamond. Not long after, none other than Anthony Bridgerton set his sights on you, surpassing any honorable suitor that even thought about appearing at your doorstep. The entire courtship, along with the proposal, felt purely transactional. Anthony berated you with questions, encounters feeling more like interviews than any courting you were used to. It was not as if you were not attracted to the man if you were being entirely honest with yourself; you'd spent the better half of your time bottling up whatever it is that blossoms in your chest when he is near. And you hated yourself for it. For feeling something you couldn't even name for a man who treated as nothing more than an object. Every public outing where he was caring towards you, even kind and every bit of charming you could ever hope for, raised your hopes high only to see them crashing down at the indifference towards you the moment you were alone without the peering eyes of the ton on you.

Your wedding and honeymoon came and went in a blur. Not even able to consummate the marriage properly due to an argument that left you both enraged and unable to look each other in the eye in the days that followed. The following months were a string of simple greetings in passing and only speaking to one another when absolutely necessary. The empty house you now lived in was becoming your own personal void without so much as the company of your supposed husband.

"Viscountess Bridgerton, are you alright?" Your maid questioned as you snapped out of your haze and directed your attention back to the bouquets before you.

"Yes, this one will be lovely for tonight, thank you." You made your final decision as Anthony strolled into the room. Your maids quickly making themselves sparse, leaving the two of you alone.

"My family should be arriving any second; I assume everything for tonight is in order, is it not?" The underlying sarcasm and questioning of your ability as the lady of the house crawled right under your skin, any lingering feelings you had been contemplating only a moment ago for the Viscount gone in an instant at his distasteful manner.

"Yes, Lord Bridgerton." You replied dryly.

"Dear, we are married and have been for some time now. I would very much like it if I did not have to tell you to address me by my first name while we are in our home." You audibly scoffed at his command while standing from your seat.

"And I would very much like it if my husband would not treat me as though I do not exist." You snapped. Anthony's jaw clenched as he tensed before you. "Seems like neither of us shall get what we want. Now if you'll excuse me, my lord, I have some preparations still pending for tonight. I am sure you can see your family to their rooms for now." 

"Now, you will not even greet my family. Do you have a distaste for them as well?"

"Never. I adore your mama and siblings as if they were my own." Anthony searched for any sign of deceit but instead found honest eyes staring back at him, making his heart ache. "If anything, I am grateful. Alas, there shall be a Bridgerton in this home I do not dislike." 

Your thoughts betrayed you abruptly exited the room and returned to your bed chambers to prepare for the evening, shutting the door and leaning against it in an attempt to steady yourself. Damn him. His scent blurred your thoughts and inhibited every one of your senses as you attempted to concentrate on the anger portrayed in his words. Instead, your mind wandered to how his white shirt hugged every curve of his chest, the plumpness of his lips, and the curve of his jaw. It was alluring in the most intoxicating way. You knew you had to compose yourself before the night began; the last thing you needed was to be distraught at your own ball.

------------------------

You stepped into the ballroom in your new dress gown the modiste had spent a significant amount of time making especially for this occasion. The staircase was beautifully adorned with white roses and touches of lilacs cascading down onto the main area. Candelabras and other flourishing arrangements were stationed around the refreshment tables your guests gathered at, and the thrumming rhythm of classical music whispered into your ears as you took notice of everyone enjoying themselves before greeting them. 

Unbeknownst to you, Anthony stood at the opposite end of the ballroom, observing how you conducted yourself gracefully amongst the guests—making light conversations while extending your kindness to everyone. He marveled at your ability to make each person feel as though they had your undivided attention; although he would never admit it, he found himself yearning for that same attention from you.

Early on, Anthony knew you fit all the requirements he had given himself for a wife. Someone honorable and suitable enough to hold the role of his Viscountess. It was precisely why he had chosen you, but that wasn't the only motive. You were the only lady's company outside his sisters; he did not particularly hate. Every potential partner he sought that season out had come up empty, whether it had been on the conversation or any other unfulfilling matter they discussed. You were different. You carried a conversation like no other, educated in far more areas than he could've hoped for, but none of that quite captured his heart in an unsuspecting manner like your character. You were kind and compassionate in a way he admired; you challenged him in ways that irritated him to no end, yet he found himself entirely enraptured by you. This is precisely why he had no choice other than shut you out completely. Anthony knew letting you get too close would be going against everything he wanted for himself. He couldn't let himself love another or have another love him; with love came loss. That he knew for certain.

"All seems good with the two of you, I see." Daphne smiled while moving to stand by Anthony as she spoke, breaking his train of thought.

"Good? I do not follow, dear sister." Anthony cleared his throat.

"Yes, good. With the way you were just openly admiring your wife, I assume it is only because the two of you have finally gotten over yourselves and admitted whatever it is you feel for one another." Anthony practically rolled his eyes at his younger sister, beginning to regret ever being forthcoming with her about the circumstances of his marriage early on. "Oh, do not tell me you are still playing this game? At this stage of marriage? Anthony-" She began scolding him, but he interrupted and led her to a more private area of the ballroom. 

"There is no game. We married because it was our duty to do so. Nothing more, nothing less. You will have to accept that, Daphne." Anthony's voice grew stern as he furrowed his brows at his sister.

"And I do. What I will not accept is the way your love for each other goes unspoken when it is clear to everyone around you." She spoke her following words in a hushed tone as to keep anyone who may be standing near from listening to them. "There is no doubt you hold love in your heart for her, brother. But if you do not tell her soon, I fear you will lose her and your only chance at happiness forever." With that, Daphne offered him a soft smile before walking towards Simon, who busied himself greeting Lady Danbury and her mama.

The night went on better than you could've hoped for. The dances and mingling were without a flaw, and even Lady Bridgerton and the Dutchess were quick to praise you on how well everything had turned out. Soon the guests started to filter out, making their way home after a long night of celebration. You strolled over to your husband after bidding goodbye to her majesty the Queen and ensuring everything had been to her liking. Anthony couldn't help but take notice of how stunning you looked tonight. How your dress fell perfectly over your figure, gems scattered throughout to match his mother's necklace laid in the most alluring way on the supple skin of your neck and chest. He was entranced in a way he'd never been before. Perhaps Daphne had been right. There's a sentence he never thought he'd utter, he thought to himself. Perhaps he had let his fears control him for far too long.

You had barely noticed your ring slipping from your fingers to fall at Anthony's feet as you approached him. Both of you leaned down to reach for it in unison, fingers ghosting over one another, making your breath catch and your eyes meet as he placed it upon your finger once again. The intimacy of such a small moment becoming too much to bear far too quickly.

"I must go." You could not bear to withstand one more moment under Anthony's intense glare, the part of you that wanted to finally divulge all the feelings you'd fought so hard to suppress after all this time threatening to break through at any given moment. You suddenly stepped back, picked up your dress the best you could, and walked hastily to avoid attracting unwanted attention from lingering guests. As you paced through the gardens, an overwhelming and uncertain feeling washed over you before you overheard Anthony's steps behind you.

"Why? Why is it that you distance yourself from me?" Anthony shouted in a hushed tone toward you. 

"Me? I am not the one stuffed in my office all day, coming to bed at late hours of the night when I am asleep and gone once I wake. Avoiding me day in and day out as if I am a plague to you." Tears welled in your eyes, making Anthony's breath hitch. He could not stand to see you like this. Every nerve in his body burned to fix whatever was troubling you, even if he was the one who caused it. Every feeling he had worked so hard to bury all this time, convincing himself he did not love you, could not love you, surfacing with every word that escaped your lips. "You treat me as though you do not care for me." Your voice was just low enough for him to hear, eyes cast downward, unable to give him so much as a glance through his silence. 

"Do not care for you? It is as if I am being consumed when I am with you. I cannot hold a breath or do the most ordinary task without you racing across my every thought. I feel as though I am losing my sanity because I cannot bear to be without you for one second. And when you are near me, it is positively intoxicating in ways I did not know to be possible." Anthony stepped cautiously toward you, fingers ghosting over your cheek, eyes dancing along your features with adoration filling them. "I love you. I love you as much as a person can love another. I do not wish to hold it inside anymore. I love you."

"I love you too." A sob wracked your chest as you responded without hesitation. The reflection in your eyes conveyed the devotion and tenderness he yearned for. It was as if you indeed saw the pieces of him but only sought to love him as he was, incomplete and perfect in every way in your eyes. As your husband.

Your heartbeat quickened as Anthony stepped close enough so that your noses practically brushed against one another—a familiar desire spreading from your heart to your chest.

Anthony cupped your face, his thumb tenderly stroking your cheek. Chills spread along your skin at the warmth of his touch. Unbridled affection flowed freely and filled the space between you. Your lips met for what felt like the first time; his other hand settled at your waist, prompting you closer to him and deepening the kiss. His lips moved against yours with a gentle urgency. It was as if nothing else mattered, the past becoming more of a distant memory the further you melted into him. There was only this moment. Anthony unwillingly pulled away, leaving your foreheads pressed against one another, his hair slightly disheveled from your fingers running through it, lips swollen and thoroughly kissed. A deep sigh escaped him before he spoke.

"I would marry you again if I could. Do it all over from the very beginning." His voice slightly wavered at the sentiment; it suddenly weighed on him how much he truly meant it. He wished nothing more than to turn back time and love you the way you deserve from the very beginning. Things would have been so different.

"Anthony, you do not need to embellish. We already married." A chuckle escaped you, a knowing smile gracing his lips. "What?"

"You called me Anthony." 

I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. if anyone sees my work anywhere that is not ao3/tumblr or under any other username that is not whispersoftheton, it has been reposted without my permission

[illmoraineakoi]

The All Vessels Sewing Challenge

A while ago, I got the intrusive idea that it'd be fun to make plushes for all of the Unique Vessels in HK. Ever since, I've been dabbling at it, not really expecting to be able to actually DO it. The full-sized Hollow I wanted to do turned out to be too expensive to do currently, and I expected this would be the same.

What started as babbling turned into a full-fledged urge. A need. An obsession. It's be a very long time since I worked on a large sewing project, and this idea filled that empty void in my soul. I'd forgotten how fun it was to have something big and challenging to work on.

So, you know what? Fuck it. Let's do this shit!

The Goal

The objective of this project is to make plushes for every single Vessel on the above list.

37 Vessels.

37 Plushes.

Each Vessel Plush consists of at least 24 pieces of fabric, without horns. That's 888 pieces for all 37.

Horns add +4 pieces, depending on the horn design, per Vessel.

This project will easily require over a thousand fabric pieces. It will be the largest project I've ever worked on.

And I can't be more excited about it.

If you want to follow my progress on this project, all future posts about it will be under the tag #IllmoraineVesselPlushesChallenge

The above image will be updated whenever a Vessel is completed, marking it off as finished.

I can't wait to do this. It's going to be so fun.

[vampzity]

a distant memory | ateez

"i know you’re somewhere out there, somewhere far away." — talking to the moon, bruno mars

—✫ pairing: ateez x gn! reader

—✫ genre: angst, fluff??, ateez, one shot, ot8

—✫ synopsis: it’s been a year since the gang went their separate ways, however you can’t help but reminisce all the good times you shared. you constantly hope that one day, it’ll go back to normal again.

—✫ wc: 1.6k

[warnings]: mentions of scars, mentions of violence???, arguing, blood, accusations, yelling, cursing, name calling

—✫ a/n: i’m sorry in advance.. i seen these photos from the special and just felt a whole wave of nostalgia wash over me 🧎‍♀️

“.. and then we can all look through the photos again!”

You sighed heavily, going through the loads of videos and pictutes taken by the cam recorder. Every happy memory playing like a small scene from a movie in your head. No matter what you did, no matter how many times you watched these same videos, it never seemed to fill the empty void they once occupied in your heart.

It’s been a year since the incident, a hell of a year at that, and yet you still can’t seem to figure out where it all went wrong. Why such a tragic moment, broke the bond between you all.

“Y/n-ah! You walk so slow, let’s go!”

You smiled softly hearing Wooyoung teasing you. Even if it bugged you, you hated to admit that you missed someone bothering you every five minutes.

Seonghwa soon came into view, holding his own cam recorder toward yours. His soft laugh echoed through your ears as he made fun of you for recording him, even though he was doing it too. Jongho soon shoved Seonghwa out of the way, bringing his face up close to the camera as he sang to it jokingly.

“Does Jongho ever stop singing?!” Mingi teased.

It’s as if they’ve never left your heart. You looked onto your phone, seeing the groupchat still pinned on your messages. It was now a ghost town if a groupchat could even have one, and each member quietly made their way out of it. You however, chose to stay. So many memories, core memories, resided in that chat. From happy birthdays, to silly pictures that were sent amongst you all, to even the smallest moments of reassurance between members. You couldn’t just let all of that go, and you couldn’t let it go back then either.

However it pained you to see how easily the rest of them let it be. Were they even feeling the way that you were? How could they just up and leave after years of memories that were engraved into your heads.

The moonlight shone through your window. It was fuller today, just as it was that same time ago. You looked up at the moon, a few tears escaping your eyes.

Were they too, looking up at the same moon?

You felt crazy for thinking that any one of the boys missed not just you, but all of them as much as you did. You knew that somewhere out there, the boys were going on with their lives normally, having to carry the weight of that night with them just as you did.

Where did it all go wrong? Was it your fault? If you hadn’t stood against San like that, would you all have worked it out in the end? However, it wasn’t your fault. All you wanted was to stop the arguing, only for it to resort to violence.

You played with the cam recorder, holding it to your face as you sobbed. As much as you wanted to forget about that day, you knew you never could be able to. So many things reminded you of them, which then reminded you of that day. Scars you obtained from your fight with San still remained, even after they healed. Not even your body could forget.

“y/n-ah!”

You lifted your head, seeing the video turn to San as he waved to you. A smile stretched across his face as he grabbed the camera from you, turning it to face the both of you. You pouted at him as he kept it at a high angle, unable to take it from his hands.

“Sannie, give me that back!”

You jumped up to reach it, as all the other members sat around laughing with San. You stopped jumping and punched his arm softly, the boys chuckling around you.

“Ah, you guys suck!”

You sighed heavily, laying down on your bed as you closed your eyes. It’s as if every time you closed your eyes, that very night replayed in your head. No matter what you did to avoid thinking of it, you couldn’t get it to stop. No amount of therapy was helping for that.

☆flashback☆

“San stop!!”

Seonghwa pulled San away as you all stood there in shock. Mingi laid on the floor, hands still protecting his face. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing, only because it’s never gotten to a point like this. There was never a thought that crossed your mind over the boys arguing so bad, that they’d get physical.

Yunho helped Mingi up, his face bruised and nose dripping blood from the attack. Tears escaped Yunho’s eyes as he realized how bad the situation was getting. However it wasn’t just him, you were all unsure of how to help.

It’s been ongoing for weeks, where random members would break out into arguments and it would sometimes get physical. The more arguments that ensued, the more distant everyone became.

“This is getting out of hand! What happened to all of you?!”

You looked at all the members in horror, tears streaming down your face as they looked away from you. Hongjoong walked up to you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he tried to offer you some comfort.

“All you ever do is fight with one another, and when things get too far, you guys just resort to violence!”

Wooyoung stood up, an annoyed look on his face as he looked toward the members. Bandages covered his hands and cheeks, reminding you of the fight between him and Jongho just last week.

“She’s right. We all can’t keep going on like this.”

San scoffed, crossing his arms in disbelief as he stood on the opposite side of the room. He rolled his eyes, soon walking up to you and Hongjoong.

“So what? You never seen a group fall apart before?”

His voice rushed through you like cold water, giving you chills as you felt mini to him. No matter how afraid you were getting of the boys and their acts of violence, you refused to let it overtake you. Let alone, be obvious that you were growing afraid of them.

“Shut up.” You mumbled, your eyes straying from him.

He crossed his arms, leaning his face down to you. You felt his breath hit your cheek, making the hairs on your skin stand up.

“Suck it up. You weren’t even apart of our group in the first place.”

The room went quiet. Whenever arguments broke out, you were always the one maintaining peace between the members. Who would’ve known that was only a matter of time before you too have had enough.

“Are you just going to keep being hardheaded?!” you yelled out, pushing him harshly.

“Don’t push me, y/n.” San snarled, his voice low and raspy.

Wooyoung looked over at San, eyebrows furrowed as he wondered what was going to happen. None of the members expected this, especially not from you. When it came to you, everyone had their guard up as they weren’t going to let you be the one who got hurt from them.

“How many times do I need to get this into your head?!” You continued to pushed at San, punching his chest as you cried out.

“All of you! You’re all idiots! Can’t we just stop fighting?!”

San took every hit you gave him, growing increasingly aggravated with you. Tears steamed down your face as you continued to punch at him, wishing for the boys who once promised to never let arguing get as bad as it was now.

“God, quit it!” San pushed you harshly, making you stumble to the ground and hit your head.

He got ontop of you, holding your arms over your head as you struggled out of his grasp. His nails dug into your skin as he glared at you with a rabid look. Hongjoong grabbed onto his back, desperately trying to pull him off of you as he yelled into your face. Wooyoung grabbed onto his arm, using all his weight to pull.

“You’re the reason our group went to shit, you know that?! If you haven’t came in here being all pissy and flirting with all the members— slap!“

With the help of Jongho, he pulled your hand out of San’s grip, allowing you to slap him across the face. Everyone around you froze for a second, seeing your face red from anger and embarrassment after San’s words. San rubbed his cheek, eyes narrowed at you. He grabbed onto your hair, pulling you toward him.

“San! Let them go!! Stop!!”

Yunho rushed over to you, pushing San off of you as the other members pulled him off. It was a bit scary how much stronger San could be when he was angry. Wooyoung and Jongho pulled San off of you as he tried hard to fight back. Yunho held you in his arms, sitting in shock at how San just reacted to you.

“You fucking tramp! This is all your fault!”

Everyone froze, unsure of what to say, as did you. San has lost his mind, everyone did in their own way, though it seemed the group was far from saving at this point. There wasn’t much any of you could do.

You watched as San grabbed his things, making his way out of your home and slamming the door behind him. Silence filled the room, as you all remained speechless. Yunho continued to hold you as small tears ran down your face. What did this mean for you guys now? Was the really just the end of the people you called home?

The people your cherished and loved dearly, were no longer with you, instead living on their own terms. A year later, and you still remained without your home.

☆end of flashback☆

a/n: IM SO SORRY FOR THIS PLEASE DON’T KILL ME. listening to Empty Box while writing the ending of this made it even worse 💔 i love that song so much.

taglist: @skzline @rvereri @evidive @xoxkii @vrtualsins

@sanslovesblog @dvrktvnnel @scarfac3 @honeyhwaaa @sundaybossanova

@kittykat-25 @losrpark @yyaurii @hwasddeongbyeoli @aestheticjoonie @interweab

@roomsofangel @mingtinysworld @minghaoslatina @vnessalau

[honeyedmiller]

Firsts | Javier Peña

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

warnings: smut (f & m oral receiving, unprotected piv, fingering, slight size kink?), cursing, teasing, tension, some tooth-rotting tender fluff, no use of y/n. 18+. minors dni.

word count: 4.9k

synopsis: Agent Peña is determined to give you something you've been craving for a long time.

not revised. sorry for any mistakes :')

Javier Peña never let anyone sleep in his bed.

Sure, he's had multiple women in it, but not once had any of them ever stayed longer than a little aftercare from the Agent himself. He used those women to get information; fucked them so good they just couldn't stop sputtering where they've seen this guy or how they know this other man. And, deep down, he used them to fill an empty void in his heart of loneliness—something he was no stranger to, but wanted to avoid altogether.

No woman had ever slept in his bed, until you.

See, if anyone told you months ago that you would've even spared Agent Peña a proper non-work related conversation this time around, you both would call bullshit.

It all started out in the field, a few months ago. Steve kept nagging Peña about his little crush on you, and it drove him crazy that you were the only woman in the office that wouldn't give him the time of day. Of course you talked to him about work related things, puzzling together the missing pieces to finally fucking catch Escobar.

Tensions were at an all-time high in the office, and the last thing on your mind was tossing the insatiable Agent a flirty smile. You were an intense, strong-willed go-getter who was an absolute badass in the field. Even the Colombian military and police liked to work with you, which was good, because it meant they'd cooperate more with the DEA. Flirting, especially with a coworker nonetheless, was completely off limits and your one set-in-stone rule you had for yourself.

You were no stranger to the rumors roaming about that Agent Peña was a good fuck. You were also no stranger to the giggles and nudges your female colleagues gave you when they caught him staring at you. You just chose to ignore them.

It wasn't until one late night in the office that had everyone exhausted and quite literally ready to get back to the States that you gave Peña the time of day.

Steve had told the man something rather interesting that day, which he knew you'd kill him for, but he thought it was worth Javier knowing. When you went over to Steve and Connie's place to have 'girl's night' with his wife, he overheard you say that no man has ever been able to make you orgasm.

Steve immediately thought of Javier when that information sprouted, and of course, being the wingman he was for Peña, he told him. Peña wanted nothing more than to be the man that could give that to you. Luckily for him, he was sort of an expert in that area, which is why all those women he fucked ended up talking.

You never paid any mind to how suave Peña could be, mainly because you genuinely weren’t interested. Your disinterest in the Agent bothered him at first, as you shot down all of his advances and flirting tactics. It just determined him further. It’s not like he kept harassing you or anything, but he tried his best to do little things for you here and there like get you a coffee when you needed it the most or a file that would help you in the spur of the moment.

On this particular night, it was just you and Peña left in the office. The two of you were paired up for a specific assignment because Murphy was unavailable, and the assignment needed to be done quickly.

You were efficient with your work, but having the Agent stare at you like a meal on legs wasn’t helping. You couldn’t deny that he was a good looking man. A man you swore you’d pay no mind to, and up until now, it was working.

“Can I help you Peña?” You ask without looking up from your paperwork. You were jotting something down when he cleared his throat, straightening in his seat.

“I think I should be asking you that, Agent.” He shot back incredulously, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded behind his head. He gave you a smug look, and his words halted your writing mid-sentence.

“Excuse me?” You look up at him, quirking an irritated brow. Though, you found yourself faltering to his heavy gaze; hooded puppy dog eyes making your panties dampen a bit. You squeezed your legs together, ignoring the nagging feelings of want and desire.

“Heard that no man’s ever been able to please you.” He tilts his head and eyes you, from your intense gaze down to the way the first couple of buttons of your work top were unbuttoned.

You scoff in disbelief. You know Connie would never say a word, so it had to’ve been Steve fucking Murphy.

Bastard.

“I don’t see how my dilemma in my personal life has anything to do with our work, Peña.”

“I was just simply observing.”

“Well you don’t work for the BAU. Stop trying to profile me.” You snap, rolling your eyes.

He holds his hands up in defense. “You know, cariño, I could help relieve you of your tension. Noticed you’ve been real… irritable, these days.”

You shoot him a nasty glare.

“Fuck you, Peña.”

“If that's what you'd like, baby. And I’d prefer it if you called me Javi.”

“I’m not one of your whores. We don’t need to be on a first name basis.” Your tone was cold as you looked back down to your papers, annoyed at the fact that you were getting turned on by his advances. What you really should've been doing is reporting him to Messina, but it wasn't worth all of the stupid paperwork.

You were cold toward him because you needed to distance yourself. It was your own fucking rule. No flirting with coworkers, even if they're ridiculously hot and tall and tan and broad and—

"Say all you want about not wanting me, but I saw the way your legs clenched and your breathing became more rapid. Why deny yourself a good time, hm?" He tilts his head.

This motherfucker was watching you like clockwork.

You slapped the manila folder that the file was in closed, tucking it into the top drawer of your desk before gathering your things.

"Good night, Peña." You hastily exited the building, fumbling with your car keys to unlock it before getting into your car. You let out a loud sigh, head hitting the back of the headrest as you rubbed your hands over your face in exasperation.

You put the keys in the ignition and left Peña at the office alone with a stupid smirk on his face.

And, that night, you had an even stupider wet dream about the smug-faced Agent.

-

As the week went on, the tension between you and Javier became nearly unbearable. It was stolen glances and soft touches and close proximities that had you stiffening, keeping your guard up to avoid succumbing to the ache in your core. It was the very thing that clawed at you from the inside, begging to be fulfilled.

You had no doubt Javier could be that man, but you were stubborn. You didn't want to give him that satisfaction. Not yet, at least. The insanely hot wet dream you had about him definitely didn't help your case, though. It made you want him to fuck you right there on his desk.

Luckily, you knew you had self control. What you didn't know is that Javier could feel you literally buzzing with anticipation, likely waiting for him to make the first move because you were too proud to do so.

You were in the kitchenette, pouring yourself a fresh cup of coffee when Javier walked in behind you. You didn’t really pay any mind until you felt the heat of his body behind you, and you turned around. Your back was pressed up against the counter as he towered over you, his dark brown gaze ever so enticing.

He reached up into the cabinet behind your head to retrieve a coffee mug himself, never breaking eye contact with you. Your eyes flickered to his lips for a brief second. To anyone else, it would’ve been the world’s most subtle glance. But to Javier, he took it as a message.

Game on.

He lightly brushed his hand against your waist to scoot past you, pouring the remainder of the fresh coffee into the mug he was holding. His touch sent a jolt of tingles down your spine, and you swallowed harshly as you tried to remember how to walk again to get away from him.

“You look beautiful today, cariño.” He simply said, halting you in your tracks. You slowly turn to him, wide-eyed and stunned. Your throat went dry as your lips formed into a tight smile.

“Thank you.” You meekly said before heading back to your desk. In this moment, you wish a black hole could form underneath the ground you walked on and swallow you whole. The affect that Javier had on you was embarrassing, especially because you were very anti-Javier Peña, aka Mr. Sex-On-Legs.

You thinking about him like this, and the undeniable tension between you both was everything you were against. Flirting with coworkers was dangerous and having sexual relations with them was lethal, especially Agents of yours and Javier’s rank. It could easily affect your work environment and being a woman in the field was already hard enough. You didn’t need shit from your counterparts or higher-ups. You wanted to be taken seriously, and giving in to your desires was going to get you anything but.

On the other hand, the need to have your desires fulfilled clawed at you aimlessly. You wanted to experience an orgasm. One that would have your toes curling and eyes rolling back. A fucking earth-shattering one—one that would ruin any other man for you.

Javier would easily oblige and give that to you, but it was up to you to let him do so.

Oh, fuck rules and fuck morals and fuck workplace gossip.

You wanted, no, needed Javier to show you what it was like. So, you decided to play along. You knew you’d both be stuck in the office late again tonight, so you wanted to have a little fun with it.

The first move was rather bold, but you weren’t going to back down now. Later on in the day, you got up from your desk to hand him a file. In doing so, your nimble fingers softly wrapped around one of his thick biceps as you dropped the file down on his desk. You leaned down, your voice barely a whisper.

“Thanks, Javi.” Was all you said before uncurling your fingers from his arm, sashaying away from him. He stared at the back of your figure quite literally stunned, and you saying his name like that had his dick twitching in his pants.

What the hell had gotten into you? He didn’t know where the sudden flirtatious behavior came from, but he was definitely going to find out.

Steve was catching on to what was going on between you, and it was amusing him to no end. It was nice to have a distraction from all the bullshit the DEA has been dealing with regarding Escobar.

By the time everyone was starting to head home, tension was so thick it could’ve been cut with a knife. Steve even threw in a ‘just bone already!’ to the both of you, and Javier couldn’t even stifle the small smile that had curled onto his plush lips.

It was around nine in the evening, and as promised, it was just you and Peña left. He was sitting at his desk when your hands suddenly slid over his shoulders from behind, sliding down to his chest. You reached over him to grab a file you needed without asking him, just so you’d have an excuse to do that.

By that time, he’d had enough of the teasing. Before you could retract your hands completely, he gripped both of your wrists and stood up, spinning your bodies around so you were pushed against his desk.

"Enough of this cat and mouse game. Do you want me or not?" Javier whispered, trapping your body with his against the cold metal of his desk. It almost looked like he was pained, like this whole past week had been hell for him.

And honestly, unbeknownst to you, it had. He laid awake every single night wishing you'd just give in to him. He wanted to treat you right. Worship your body as it should've been worshipped all along. He didn't want to fuck some random woman for intel anymore if it meant he got to be with you.

You were too stunned to speak, and quite honestly, the arousal pooling in your panties was way too noticeable to ignore at this point. You nodded your head, breath ragged and cheeks flushed.

"Gracias a Dios." He murmured. He cupped your face with both hands, finally sealing the space between you both as he brought his lips to yours. As cliché as it sounded, your whole body reacted to his touch as you felt sparks when his lips moved with yours. You dropped the file in your hand onto his desk behind you before wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer.

He gripped your thighs and easily hoisted you up onto his desk, moving between your legs to be as close as he possibly could. You moaned softly when your clit caught onto the seam of your jeans, and you could feel Javier's growing bulge against your jean-clad core.

If it wasn't going to be your first time with him, he would've happily taken you right here on his desk. But, he wasn't a total asshole.

"Come back to my place with me," He sighed against your lips. "I can take better care of you there."

You nodded vigorously in agreement, and you both hastily gathered your things before heading out to Javier's Jeep.

He opened the door for you and you softly thanked him, trying to catch your breath and steady your heart rate from everything that just happened. You hadn't even gotten to the best part of this all and you were already falling apart at the seams. It'd been awhile since you've had any special kind of attention like that in general, so it really wasn't helping your case.

Javier clambered into the driver's seat, starting up his car to head back to his apartment. A naughty idea crossed your mind, and you'd be completely humiliated if Javier rejected your advances.

Fuck it.

You reached your left hand over, rubbing his now completely erect cock through the fabric of his jeans. He twitched slightly, giving you a look with burning desire. His eyes snapped back to the road thinking you were going to stop there, but boy was he wrong.

You began to undo his belt as best as you could given your position, and you swiftly unbuttoned and zipped down his jeans.

"Wh-what are you doing?" His voice was hoarse, eyes going wide.

"Relieving you." Was all you said before tugging his jeans down the right amount so you could take his cock out of his boxers.

He was thick and heavy, the head already bedaubed with pre cum. Your mouth watered at the sight, seeing that he had girth and a good length.

He inhaled sharply when your thumb ran over the swollen flesh of his weeping head. You wasted no time, giving his shaft a few pumps before taking him into your mouth. He hissed in pleasure, the feeling of your mouth so wet and warm around him. The sounds you elicited while pleasuring him were nothing short of erotic, and it was driving him crazy.

"Fuuuck. Yeah, just like that baby." Javier coaxed you on, wrapping his fingers in your hair. His other hand was gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were turning a ghost-white color. You kept going, easily licking up his silky flesh before deciding to try and take him all into your mouth.

You eased down slowly until your nose was eventually met with the dark, coarse curls at the base of his cock. Javier accidentally hit a bump in the road at the same time your mouth was completely full of him, so it made you gag around his length.

He nearly came right then and there.

"Fuck, okay, okay," He panted, gently gripping your hair to bring your mouth up and off of his cock. "I don't want to cum yet."

You pouted at him, wanting to taste him as you made him cum. Another time, you suppose. You helped him get his boxers back up over his still painfully erect member, pants following suit.

It was only a couple of more minutes before Javier parked outside of his apartment building, nearly dragging you upstairs and into his place. Once the door was closed, he pushed you up against it, capturing your mouth onto his once again. He moved you away from the door and to the couch, where he sat down so you could straddle him. It was a bit hard with the tight jeans you were wearing, but not unmanageable.

His tongue slipped over yours furiously, teeth clashing together as you both simply seemed like you just couldn't get enough of one another.

His mouth moved from yours down to your neck, leaving hot, sloppy kisses in its wake. He got to one spot on your neck just below your ear that had you shuddering with pleasure, and he chuckled softly at that.

He nipped at that particular spot and licked over it, repeating the action a few times until you found yourself grinding your hips into him. The ache in your core was unbearable, and all you wanted was to just be touched.

"Javi, please." You weren't above begging at this point, because fuck did you want his fingers in you and his tongue on you.

"Please what, princesa?" He rasped, grabbing your ass harshly as he purposefully rutted your hips against his.

"I- fuck- need you to touch me. Please." You whine, biting your lip as you look down at him with a pout. He groaned quietly when you gave him that look of feening innocence.

His lips attached themselves to yours again before he grabbed the back of your thighs, parting from your lips to take you to his bedroom. You kissed his neck while he was walking, giving it one long lick up to his ear before he placed you down on his bed.

He hovered over you, placing one knee in between your legs. He grabbed the hem of your shirt before slowly lifting it up and over your head, eyeing the soft flesh of your breasts that spilled out of your bra from this position. His mouth found itself on aforementioned flesh, lightly nipping and sucking down the valley before moving down to your torso. He eventually got to the hem of your jeans, to which he took his time in taking off.

He carefully undid your belt, then the button and zipper. He shimmied the material off of your legs, staring at your nearly naked body in pure hunger and want. He noticed the dark patch of wetness on your panties, and he teasingly chuckled.

"All this for me, baby? Haven't even touched you yet." He cooed, moving between your thighs. He gave your sopping clothed core a kiss, then proceeded to lick over the wet fabric. You moaned, gripping onto his shoulders.

"Need you, Javi." Your words were nearly incoherent as they squeezed out of your throat. You didn't know how else to make the man just devour you already.

"I know, baby. Need you too." Was all he said before gripping your panties and sliding them down your legs. His gaze met your glistening core, and he hummed at the sight.

He got on his knees at the edge of the bed before wrapping his arms around your thighs, tugging you down so your legs dangled off the edge. He moved both of your legs so your calves rested on his shoulders which flexed underneath the leather jacket he was wearing.

He dragged his lips slowly up the inside of your thighs, kissing your core once, before dragging his lips back down. He repeated that twice before he finally decided to stop being a tease and devour you shamelessly. He lapped up your existing arousal before softly sucking on your clit, moving his tongue down your folds and into you a few times before just focusing on your clit. He took his middle and ring finger and slipped them both into you, the thick stretch of his fingers nearly sending you over the edge.

You couldn't fucking believe it. All these years, no man has ever been remotely close to even making you cum, and then Javier Peña comes along. He nearly had you unraveling with just his tongue and fingers with such ease that it honest to god seemed way too fucking good to be true.

"Baby you taste so goddamn good. Fuck." Javier mewled, pulling his fingers out of you. He reattached his lips to your clit as he gripped your thighs tighter. You were rolling your hips into his face at this point, but he was making movement nearly impossible with the weight of his arms.

He then solely focused on your entrance, swirling his tongue teasingly around you before slipping his tongue inside of you over and over again. You choked on a gasp at the sensation, feeling a nearly foreign tightening sensation in the pit of your core.

"Javi." You whined, the sensation getting stronger and stronger until your body trembled, a lick of flames coursing through you as you cried out. You convulsed around Javier's tongue as you came, tears pricking the corner of your eyes at the heavenly sensation. He lapped up your sweet arousal, moaning against you before pulling away.

Your chest was heaving up and down uncontrollably ears ringing and mind hazy.

Javier looked down at your disheveled state, truly quite honored to be the first man to ever make you orgasm. He leaned down and pressed a wet kiss to your lips, tasting your own arousal as his tongue slipped into your mouth. You gripped both sides of his face as your lungs began to burn, desperate for some air. You separated from him reluctantly, looking up into his eyes.

The sight before him was truly pornographic. Your hair was disheveled, eyes glossed over and parted, swollen lips glazed with your own cum as you breathed rapidly. As his eyes traveled south, one of your bra straps hung off of your shoulders and your manicured hand rested on your abdomen. Your legs were spread just for him, and he wished he could take a photo of you like this. Not to be a creep, but because you belonged in a museum.

Part of him was secretly happily selfish that he was the only one who could see you like this in this moment, though. To look so fucked out and needy because of him. The thought alone nearly made him cum in his pants.

"How do you feel, corazón?" He asked, standing up to finally take the constraints off of his erection. He groaned softly at the release as his cock hit his stomach, still red and weeping and glistening with pre cum.

"Amazing." Was all you could muster up before hooking your legs around him, causing him to topple over you. He laughed at your sudden movements, both hands resting on either side of your head. Your hands found purchase on either side of his face, thumbs softly caressing his cheeks.

No one had ever been so affectionate with him. A warm feeling invaded his stomach, eyes feverishly scanning yours.

"You have a beautiful smile and laugh, Javi. Why don't you do it more?" You ask, brushing a curl off of his forehead. He leaned down and nudged his nose with yours, softly kissing your lips.

"I'll do it more for you, corazón." He whispers, and you pull him down for another kiss. This one was soft and slow, a much different pace than the previous ones. This one was full of tenderness and care, something you both desperately wanted but never seemed to get.

In the midst of the slow kiss, Javier moved one hand down to grab his cock so he could slide it between your folds. You gasped against his lips and he peered down at you with a gentle gaze, searching your eyes for permission. You grabbed the sides of his legs gently, silently letting him know it was okay.

He pushed into you slowly, and you closed your eyes at the sensation. He stretched you in a way that was so heady, having you feel so full when he got to the hilt. You closed your eyes in pure bliss, and Javier leaned down once more to kiss your forehead softly. Your eyes fluttered open again and met his soft gaze.

"Keep your eyes open and on me, cariño. Wanna see you." He says as he juts his hips forward, causing you to suck in a breath through your teeth.

He started to pump in and out of you languidly at first, but then it became rapid hip snaps against yours. The sound of pounding flesh and ragged breathing was all that was heard in the room. Javier made sure to kiss you everywhere he could possibly reach in this position, even moving down to softly suckle on your erect nipples after tossing your bra somewhere in the room amidst all of this.

Pleasure washed over your body and you felt that familiar heat licking your core once again. He paused for a second to bring your calves back up to his shoulders, this new angle hitting even deeper inside of you. It was hitting a spot you didn't even know was possible. You cried out his name as you tried to keep your eyes open, but it was nearly impossible with the way he was thrusting so deliciously into you.

"Javi, fuck, I'm gonna cum again." You cry, clawing at the bedsheets.

"Yeah? Go ahead, princesa, I'm right here. I've got you." He says, keeping his pace steady. He felt his own orgasm slowly building, and he knew it was a matter of time before he found his own release. Before your hazy mind could even process it, your body was shuttering again as you clamped tightly around his cock. Your orgasm washed over you once more, a little stronger than the last time.

You were so spent and fucked out, but Javier kept going. He was so close to his release, and he wanted to make you cum for him one more time.

"One more time, baby. C'mon, I know you got it in you." His teeth are gritted, jaw clenched and face so determined.

"Fuck, Javi, I-I can't." You cry, your breathlessness catching up to you. Your lungs were constricting and it was hard to breathe, but it burned so fucking good.

"Yes you can baby. I know it." He says, snapping his hips against yours at a relentless pace as he moved a hand down to rub swiftly over your already abused and overstimulated clit.

"Fuck!" You cried, clamping down on him once more but this time, a gush came out of you. That was enough to send Javier over the edge.

"Where do you want me?" His voice was so severely strangled that you barely understood him, and understood the fact that you only had a couple of seconds to answer him.

"Inside, please. Need you." You clawed at his back now, feeling his warmth spill into you at your words. His hips stuttered as they slowed to a halt, and both of you spent several minutes trying to catch your breaths.

He pulled out of you slowly, both of you groaning at the loss of contact. He plopped down beside you, sweat adorning both of your bodies as your chests heaved up and down.

"Fuck, Javi. That was..." You started once you controlled the raggedness of your breath.

"I'm glad." He chuckled, leaning down to kiss your cheek. You both sat in silence as you propped yourself up on your elbow, tracing mindless patterns on his bare chest with your fingertips.

"I should probably head out soon." Your voice is meek once again.

"Actually, I was hoping you'd want to stay." Javier says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You hesitated for a moment, before nodding slightly. "Yeah, I'd like that."

And so you and the Agent you swore you despised just days prior to this cuddled up in his bed, not worried about the repercussions that would follow in the morning.

Not the fact that your car was still there at the office and Javier's wasn't, not the fact that you'd be wearing a button-down shirt of his that was way too big on you to work the next day, and definitely not the fact that you two were much friendlier and touchier now more than ever.

It most definitely didn't have anything to do with the fact that you both provided something to each other you haven't had in a long time—

firsts.

-

hehehe hope u enjoyed @cool-iguana ily :')

[blackdollette]

"tearing around in my fucking nightgown." | s. reid

hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have, but i have it. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: you were hardly at fault. spencer had taken a late shift, and you needed to settle your nerves somehow...

fill out the taglist form! : @thirtyratsinasuit @auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @sleepysongbirdsings @pleasantwitchgarden @emma-e-a @bellasprettywords

female!reader x spencer

word count: 1.2k

contents: spencer takes the late shift at work, masturbation, cunnilingus (flashback), no proofread

you had been tossing and turning in your disheveled bedsheets for minutes that seemed like hours.

your hair laid in a scruffy mess on your head, your silk nightgown clinging to your flesh in an awkward fashion. it was a few minutes past midnight, and because of spencer’s absence, you were beginning to lose your mind. you were somehow sweaty in the bedroom that was always just a touch too chilly, a sticky film coating your skin.

you rolled over once again with a groan, wishing that spencer hadn’t taken the night shift. you couldn’t see anything in the blackness of the bedroom, with the exception of the sparse streaks of moonlight that seeped in from the window and the monotonous flicker of the time that flickered on the small digital clock beside you, seeming to be mocking the same sensation that played in your mind.

you’d gotten so used to the feeling of spencer’s big arms cradling you to keep you warm during the night. you longed to feel his body pressing up against yours as he shifted and mumbled in response to whatever he was dreaming about.

you tossed in the sheets, stretching out your arm to grab your phone off the bedside table. honestly, you were surprised that you were able to keep yourself together for so long. you thought you were going to crack hours ago. you scrolled down your call list, landing on the name titled with a heart symbol. you clicked the call button and waited for the recipient to pick up.

the phone rang once, twice, and many more times until you went to voicemail. frustration began to coil in your gut as you tried to call back, each time resulting in the same outcome. you couldn’t begin to explain this pathetic feeling of hopelessness and desperation that had overtaken you. 

you mindlessly scrolled through your old messages with him, missing him more than anything. you sat up in the bed holding your knees to your chest as you reread your texts with him. a smile tugged at your lips each time he said something corny in response to something provocative that you said. 

you stumbled upon an image that he had sent you from his office. he had positioned the camera from a higher angle, capturing his leaned-back position and a sneaky hand that pulled the waistband of his trousers down just enough to give you a sneak peek of his boxer briefs. he had a cheeky little grin on his face, his fluffy hair falling in perfect tufts over his forehead. the picture seemed to be crafted by the gods, from the lighting to the slight surge of lust it filled you with. it was perfection.

you felt a familiar heat pooling in your core as the image filled your head. your breath hitched as hunger began to fill the empty void in your mind. a switch flipped inside of you quickly and your hand had already found its way to your lacy panties.

you were almost surprised at how needy you had gotten so quickly. you were practically clawing at the skimpy material of your nightgown. 

your mind was flickering with images of him and you on your most intimate nights. him having you lying on your back as he pumped two fingers in and out of you, his soft words as smooth and sweet as honey…

“y-yeah, right there, spence…” you whimpered out as his slightly calloused fingertips brushed against your cervix. “oh yeah..? well… how does this feel..?” he began to curl his fingers ever so slightly, making your breath hitch as he rubbed slow circles onto your puffy clit. you rolled your hips against his hand, eager to feel him in every part of you. the simple act brought a smile onto his face, letting him know that he was doing something right.

he pressed his fingers against your bladder, making your whole body jerk. startled, he chuckled. “how does that feel?” you tried to formulate audible speech, but he began to pick up the pace, taking pleasure in the way you drooled and stammered. your pussy mimicked the lewd noises of your lips, the sticky sounds of your cunt almost too good to be true. “yeah… listen to that, baby…”

your fluids of arousal dripped along his fingers, trailing down his veiny hands. the folds of your pussy fluttered around him, greedily swallowing his digits. you pressed your legs together as that unmistakable band began to tighten in your stomach, but he pushed your legs open, letting his hand rest on your inner thigh. “c’mon, baby. i’m not done with you yet…” 

you were falling apart, the rapid beating of your heart syncing with the way your cunt pulsated. a stupid little grin was plastered on spencer’s face the entire time. he loved the way he could make you go dumb for him, the way you turned into silly putty with a few pumps of his fingers. the inside of your sticky walls felt like velvety silk around his fingers. 

he couldn’t take his eyes off of your puffy lips and tear-glazed eyes. to him, there was no greater pleasure than making you feel on top of the world. 

you bit your lip hard, the iron tang of blood filling your mouth as he connected his lips to your cunt just as your orgasm was on the way. he flicked his tongue on your swollen pearl, mumbling mindless praises into your core. 

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he found the perfect rhythm between his tongue and fingers. he grabbed a handful of his hair, grinding your hips against his face. he groaned deeply into your body. “t-that’s it, honey… use me…” you shuddered each time he swirled his wet tongue across your folds.

the weaker you became, the faster he went. the room filled with the hungry sounds of the base of his hand slapping against the entrance of your hole as he fingered you at lightning speed. his chest heaved up and down, your overstimulated moans becoming louder. “o-oh my gosh, spence… i-i… i can’t take anymore..!”

his mouth was already filling with the delicious taste of your cum, but he wanted to maximize your orgasm to its fullest. he dug into you, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he buried his face into your body, not even taking a second to breathe. his tongue hungrily ran up and down your slit, making the band in your stomach snap. “s-spencer, i’m cumming..!”

~

you snapped back to reality from the feeling of your body convulsing around your fingers. you panted rapidly, looking down and seeing the wet, sticky mess that you created all over the bedsheets. beads of sweat rolled down your forehead as you looked around the room as if you had just woken up from a nap.

your eyes landed on the clock, reading the time. 12:48am. you sighed deeply. you hadn’t meant to get lost in the overwhelming feeling, but you just couldn’t resist it. it had almost felt as if spencer was actually there. but something good had come out of it.

you found your eyelids getting heavy with exhaustion as you slipped back under the covers, pulling the blanket over your warm body and setting your head onto your pillow. you looked at spencer’s side of the bed, taking in his absence. lifting up your head, you switched your pillow with his, setting your head back down and inhaling the heart-warming scent of him, finally being blessed with the gift of sound slumber.

author's note: i'm sick :((

[drdemonprince]

i read in the comments to my last ask about "ordinary unhappiness" the idea of depression as a lack of agency and i feel like that is true? when i feel miserable and in pain, it's not because something is sad but because something is either unachievable or impossible (or at least there is the perception of it). and like i think that's what you were getting at too? this thing that drives you to keep going, this lack of satisfaction. i simply don't have anything i can give into such that i would ever even feel a lack of satisfaction. i've never had anything to give myself into and feel frustrated and perhaps sometimes successful in but instead i just envy the people who do have those things. nothing i've ever done has felt maintained a sense of emotional connectiveness in that way (positive or negative). i guess to wrap this back around to another potential talking point, i'm curious how you find that in your life? is it weird for me that nothing has ever felt worth putting myself whole ass into? idk, i find it envious you've got both writing and gay hypno fetish stuff you're able to just throw yourself into so wholly and utterly

Passion isn't inherent, it can be a choice too. I only look like I care a ton about writing and gay hypno stuff because I have deliberately chosen to pursue those passions, for many years, and cultivated a deep interest in them, anon.

When I was in my early twenties, I felt completely empty. I was a void. If you've read the first chapter of Unmasking Autism, this is the period I'm talking about in that book. I went away to graduate school (because I was good at academics, and I had some illusions about what a career in that field would do for me), but I had absolutely zero zest for the subject of psychology at that point. I had no research ideas. I read psychology books and publications purely out of obligation. I did what was required of me, but nothing additional beyond that, and I spent the rest of my time sitting at home, sometimes literally staring at the wall and crying. I had no friends or hobbies, aside from taking long, long depression walks listening to podcasts in order to fill the silence.

This was when I was at my most depressed, and my most suicidal. Just existing was a pain. I'd sob in bed at night and cry out begging for God to kill me, and I didn't even believe in God. The only thing that distracted me from my pain was a guy I was seeing, who was beautiful and very cruel and inconsistent, and I clung to him through all kinds of lies and abuse because it felt as though my happiness was located inside of him.

I had a friend that I wrote to about how miserable I was, and all the twists and turns that my horrible romance was taking. Her name was Heather. (Unlearning Shame is dedicated to her). She told me hey, you're a really good writer, did you know that? I really enjoy reading your emails, even when you're speaking about the most pitiful anguished shit, you really put it poetically and have a ton of insight. You should write more.

For a while, I ignored her. I didn't care about writing. I just wanted to get my pain out on the page because I had nobody to talk to, and oodles of time to waste. I had nothing otherwise that I felt I HAD to say. I had no PASSION. I did not feel like I was put on this earth to do anything. Other people seemed to have these drives, and I had nothing.

But then one day in a fit of depression I stopped by a bookstore right near my apartment, The Armadillo's Pillow, just to get outside of the house. I happened upon a book I had loved in high school, Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections. I took it home. I read it. It transported me for a few hours away from my pain. I went back to the book store and picked up some sci-fi. A John Varley collection, I think. I was also swept away from my suffering, even when the stories had flaws that I noticed. I was interested in the actual craft of storytelling: what worked and what didn't. And there was finally some beauty in my head instead of the usual dreariness and self-hatred and emptiness.

And so. I made the choice to write. I could have taken it or left it at that point. I didn't care about anything. Caring is a muscle that you have to flex. And when you're depressed, it can be very hard. I needed a lot of nudges from the external world and other people, to realize that I had some things I did gravitate toward, even if I didn't realize it.

All that time of course I WAS driven to write. I was churning out 5k word letters to Heather every day practically. I was reading stupid shit online. And when it was put in front of me, and I had no reason to feel guilt about not working hard enough on other things, I reached for books. But I didn't feel passion strongly under the heavy blankets of my depression. Or usually at all, really. I am a quite internally muted person whose emotions are suppressed. But they're there. Speaking to me softly. And to overcome my depression, I had to decide to listen to them instead of ignoring them all of the time, and give them kindling, and then fan them into a flame.

I started blogging regularly while I was in graduate school (right here, hello, you can check my archive dating back to 2011), and finding a reason to live. When I was writing, I felt like the world was interesting, and beautiful. It gave me new things to do. I attended literary readings and book launches all over town. I submitted work to magazines. I bought old copies of magazines and read them. I inhaled books. I listened to fiction podcasts. I joined writing groups. At first, it felt like a slog, like anything else. Doing these things, I was not "happy". But I was interested. I liked learning about the world of publishing, critiquing people's stories in my head, and commisserating with other Tumblr writers about the stuff that got featured on the Prose tag that sucked.

After YEARS of doing this, of choosing to fan my passions, it became a genuine motivation in my life. But even then? I lose track of it sometimes. I get busy, or there's no place comfy to sit and read in my apartment, and I forget that I like writing and reading for months at a time. And then I have to choose it again. It takes effort to care about something, every time.

It's the same way with hypno. I did have a fetish for this stuff all my life long. But it's a passion that people always thought was weird and gross, and that I thought was bad. I didn't tell anyone about it until my late 20's. I felt ashamed masturbating to it or looking up hypno content online. For years I snuffed out that flame of passion until I could barely feel it anymore. It wasn't until I was super depressed AGAIN in my later 20's that I took a bunch of weird off-label anti-depressant drugs under the table and had a weird dreamy headspace overtake me and make me insanely horny that I remembered how much I loved hypno, and because I was in search of an escape from my tormented brain, I sought hypnotists out.

And I had the time of my life. But I also had boring, awkward encounters, bad hook-ups, and had to do a ton of work.

My passions have drawn me out of depression because I needed them to. I had to find them, listen to them, and then give them lots of food. And it's one of the few things that a person does often have agency over, no matter how dispiriting their circumstances. You can make choices about where to put what attention you do have, in what free moments you do have. When you're on the bus or in line at the grocery store and you're thinking about how much you hate yourself, you can try to think about a story you read or a sexual fantasy you had, instead. It's a lot of work. But it's better work than the work of hating yourself, which takes a whole lot of energy and attention itself.

I hope you can find something like this for you. It doesn't really matter what it is. It can be some hobby you've always wanted to try, or something "childish" you've suppressed. Having a passion isn't like being chosen by the universe to care about something. It's not like love at first sight. Nothing fucking works like that in life. It's always work. It's always a choice you have to make, because no one else will give it to you. But there can be hints that you can follow, sometimes.

[reidsbookclub]

Yours Truly Spencer Reid x fem! reader WC: 2555  fluff pure fluff tw: mentions of Gideon's death

AN: ending is a bit rushed but when I copy & pasted here I accidentally deleted it and couldn’t recall everything I wrote 😩

It’s been three months living with the knowledge that Gideon is no longer there. His conversation with Rossi was haunting him in the middle of the night. “I know I’m not being very rational,” he had told Rossi, “but I think about him all the time. And I knew he was always out there, now it just feels empty.” Rossi’s words still echoed in his mind. “Maybe you’ll find something else to fill the empty space.” He couldn’t even begin to imagine finding anything that would fill the void of now knowing that his mentor would no longer be just a call away. He needed to find a way to feel close to him, so he put pen to paper and did what he knew best: he started writing Gideon letters with the intent of them being addressed to fire. He put pen to paper and tried to connect it to the cloudy thoughts of his brain. After a couple of hours he fell asleep with the warmth of the fireplace enclosing him in a hug. 

Not even in his wildest dreams did he ever thing that letter would get read and replied to. 

It had been three months since her godfather Jason had passed away, three months of losing the only father figure she had had. If she didn’t know any better she could’ve sworn that he was still around, his presence felt throughout the small cabin she was inherited.  Stephen, Jason’s son, had delivered a letter stating such. The simple letter in the testament read, “Y/N, just know that a very good friend of mine holds a key to this cabin, he might drop by if he feels the need to feel close to me, or just an escape from the darkness of this world. Be kind to him, Dr. Reid needs some warmth, kindness and love in his life.”  

Days later she found a piece of paper on the floor of the cabin. She really needed to seal the mail slot on the door and install a mailbox.  But she couldn’t help but let out a gasp on who sent it, the Dr. Reid in her godfather's letter. 

Dear Gideon,  It’s been three months since you’ve passed and I can’t help but ask why I never reached out to you when you left the BAU. 

Oh. So he’s a coworker. She wondered if he helped found the BAU alongside Rossi and her godfather, suddenly wondering if Dr. Reid had many stories about her godfather’s younger days.  Silencing her thoughts, she continued reading. 

You know how I’m a specialist at overthinking everything and I just can’t help but wonder if I still have a place in the BAU now that you’ve gone. 

Who is this Dr. Reid? 

Gideon I’m becoming a mastermind at vanishing into the deep thoughts of my brain in the middle of the night. Midnights have now become my afternoons. I miss the talks we used to have. If I’m being honest I’m finding it so hard to find my place with the team now that I can’t just hide in your office. Can you believe Morgan invited me out to the club? Me. 

Club? Was Dr. Reid not an old guy like her godfather or was Morgan just being nice and inviting a mentor out to drinks?  Curiosity getting the best of her, she continued reading the letter, hoping to get more answers on who Dr. Reid really is. 

You always used to say my first degree was running away into the deep thoughts of my mind but I think I have added a fourth Ph.D to my resume and that’s being my own worst enemy. 

Multiple Phds? She couldn’t even finish school. Who was this guy? 

You know how hard it is to admit it to myself but I miss you Gideon. Sometimes I still talk to you when I feel like screaming at the sky, angry that you left me with nothing but a letter, just like everyone else that had ever left me did, but I can't be angry at you.  -SSA Agent Reid…. Yes I know, Gideon. I need to make people respect me. So I guess I’m signing off as, SSA Doctor Spencer Reid. 

He wouldn’t need to make people respect him if he wasn’t young? Would he? Not being able to get her mind off the mysterious Dr. Reid, she decided to write him a letter.

Coming back from a demanding case always felt like a relief and the worst thing in the world at the same time. Relief for finally being home and the worst thing because once you’re home, warm in bed, your mind starts reliving every little thing you could’ve done differently. This night would be different. Spencer was greeted at the door by his Russian Blue cat named Atticus and a tea-stained letter on his mailbox. 

Dr. Spencer Reid, I must admit that receiving a letter addressed to my godfather was surprising, I fully apologize for opening and reading your letter, I assumed you meant for no one to read it. Have you ever been to my godfather Jason’s cabin? If you have, then you must know that there is a small town that is 15 miles away. I went there earlier today and down the block from the main road there is a small antique shop. I stopped and entered, always curious about the stories that old items have, who owned them? Were they special to them or just small trinkets, why did the owner sell them? All these questions. No answers. Anyways, there was a box filled with old drawings and photographs. 25 cents each and I couldn't help but buy some because they all reminded me of you.  You must think I'm insane for saying that something reminded me of you when we have never met, so please don’t profile that too much, anyways, these photographs had me imagining things. It's crazy. Heck, I don’t even know anything about you. Yes, I could look it up but where's the fun in that? Is it crazy that I can’t help myself and imagine who you are? That I cannot help but think of all of these little scenarios making a film about your life. I’ve been rambling too much about nonsense so take care Dr. Reid.   - Hope you stay safe  Y/N

Reid read and re-read the surprise letter. Atticus on his lap sleeping. Goddaughter, why couldn't he recall Gideon ever mentioning a goddaughter. Who was she? Based on the letter she rambled…a lot and got excited about the most random things. Reid let out a soft giggle startling Atticus. “I think…I think I want to write another letter, Atticus. She seems fun to talk to, don't you think?” 

Silence. That is all she heard for three long weeks cursing herself for responding to his letter the way that she did.  He must’ve thought she was nothing but a foolish petulant child with her dreaming and fantasizing about different worlds and what ifs. Just as she was wondering if she should write another letter apologizing she heard the unmistakable sound of papers being thrown into the mail slot. “Thank you!” she shouted through the door to the mailman. One coffee-stained envelope standing out over the spam ads she got.

Dear Y/N, I must admit writing a letter to you seems a bit strange so please bear with me if I seem   awkward,  I promise I am working on it. Shit I spilled some coffee on the paper, hopefully its not that noticeable. Who am I kidding of course it will be noticeable. Well I am hoping you like coffee smells. Ms. Y/N I hope that the letter I sent you did not cause you any more grief, and please feel free to…how did you put it? “ramble much about nonsense” to me at any time. I thought it was cute. Well now I am thankful you cannot see the blush I have because Derek is sure making fun of me at the moment. I’m sorry that it seems like forever since you last replied to me but the case we had was taking a toll on me and I couldn’t seem to taint your sunshineness with the darkness of the case. I just wanted to let you know that the way you make time disappear everytime i re-read your letter brings me calmness, and brings me hope that maybe someday we could become friends. Please always continue telling me about the little what if scenarios that help you make my life seem more interesting than it is. I find it adorably cute that you do these things. Now I can’t help but wonder if you will think I am just a boring old man that sits in the corner of a dark room– I promise I am not. Anyways, a little about myself I have a cat named Atticus, I enjoy stimulating my brain by learning new things which is how I got three Phds. You can always find me with coffee and a good book and—fucking hell I sound boring as fuck and you give off the impression of being this magnetic carefree beautiful person.   Great, now I am overthinking everything I have said so far – everyone knows that afterall i am a specialist at doing so.  Thats all for now  Sincerely, Spencer Reid. 

She couldn’t help but giggle. All throughout the letter Spencer sounded just like the type of person that she would love to get to know further. Someone that in another life would be considered a tortured poet, living amongst the rest of them in the peacefulness of the lakes, someone that would be rubbing elbows with Wordsworth and Austen. As she re-read the letter she was trying to ignore the blush that spread across her cheeks at Spencer using the word cute in reference to her. One thing was certain that she would be holding on to her pen-pal because for some reason he made her feel a way no other person was able to do. 

It had been two months since the initial letter that started this newfound friendship Spencer found himself in. The only thing that has kept him going were the weekly letters that Y/N has been sending him. They’re weekly letters always bringing a smile to his face and giving him the necessary “push” in between cases. This new letter brought an even bigger smile to his face and the sudden urge to finally drive up to that cabin and meet the person that has been holding his mind captive all day. 

Dear Spencer,  How is Atticus doing? I know you were planning on adopting a kitten to keep Atticus company while you are away. May I suggest a cute little white cat? Or a ginger cat? Maybe one named  Arlo or Agatha or something old  literature sounding. How have you been? Are the headaches gone? Today I went down to the small village that is close by and there is this new coffee place and I couldn’t help but think about how much you would like it. Would you be interested in ever meeting me there? Keeping this one short and sweet because i did kinda sorta just ask you out and anxiety is at an all time high  - Y/N

There was one thing that Spencer learned that night and that was that for the first time in years he allowed himself to hope that maybe just maybe the person he was falling for was falling right alongside him. 

Girls night. Oh how she missed her friends ever since moving into the cabin. It had taken a lot of convincing but she had finally managed to get her friends up for the weekend. In the middle of drinks she started gushing about Spencer and their friendship. She was telling her friends about the cute pen-pal she had and how she had taken the leap to ask him out. “Ha. What a loser do you really think that and FBI agent will take the time to come and meet someone as boring as you?” Her so-called best friend Lindsey had said, her words ringing in her ear drink after drink. How could she be so foolish thinking that a guy as smart as Spencer would ever confess his love to her. It had been a cold reminder that she was not the exception, that after years of this happening she had not learned her lesson that fairy tale endings did not happen to girls like her. So, for the first time in the two months they had been communicating instead of answering his letter she burned it, eventually leaving him at the coffee house waiting, glued to his chair instead of meeting her for the first time. The following week the first of many daily letters arrived in which he kept asking her why. 

Dear Y/N, Did I do something wrong? Did you move on? Help me because in my mind I'm still at that coffee shop collecting dust wondering where you are, wondering why you didn’t show up. If you ever think you may have got it wrong and want to meet, I will be at that coffee shop every Friday at 7 waiting for my sunshine to show up.  Yours truly, Spencer 

Three weeks. It had been three long weeks since he had heard from her, so he decided to take the initiative and for the first time since Gideon’s death he used the key he had left him. The drive to the cabin was filled with anxious thoughts. Would she be happy to see him? Did she meet someone while they were writing letters? 

Walking into the cabin he could smell something baking and the unmistaken sound of laughter coming from the small kitchen, making his way around the cabin he caught a glimpse of her dancing around the kitchen, “wow you are even more beautiful than I ever thought.” he said catching her off guard. “Who the fuck are you and how did you get in here?” she yelled “Oh–i–right yeah i – Spen–Rei–Doctor” he let out a puff of air, “Hi, I’m Spencer Reid. Gideon actually gave me a key to this place.” he smiled softly as crimson crept across her face. “Oh, hi wh–a–what are you doing here?” “I was worried about you” he mumbled

“Oh” In any other situation awkward silence would have followed but not between them, instead fits of laughter happened. “I’m sorry I blew you off Spencer” taking a deep breath she continued, “its just… a friend reminded me that girls like me don’t get the cute guys” Taking a step close to her spencer began rubbing circles in her wrist with his thumb “Y/N whoever said that is not a friend. I fell for the personality that shined through the letters we exchanged, I couldn’t care less about what you looked like you were already perfect in my mind and now that I am seeing you I can confirm that you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met” They spend that whole weekend together, the days consisting of  baking, stargazing and teaching Y/N how to play chess and nights filled with cuddles, kissing and watching movies together.

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[forever--darling]

summary: after three years spent away from home because of nasty divorce between your parents, you finally come back & realize that this time you might not be able to keep sam monroe away any longer.

pairings: sam monroe x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings/notes: swearing, mentions of death, mentions of past feelings, mentions of childhood trauma, divorce, daddy issues, allusions to sex

masterlist

There was a lot of things you could attest to even only at twenty-one. After experiencing everything you had under one roof, it wasn’t hard not to grow up fast. To learn just how horrible it is loving someone because of what it can do to you. Something that still remained true even if both of your parents remarried because everything still sounded the same within that forsaken house.

The walls spoke the same languages that your parents would as they whispered, which eventually would become yelling. The indents still lingered with chipped paint near where your height marks resided in the doorframe. It was just as it had been at six and then eleven. Yet at twenty-one, having come home for the first time in over three years, to a house that now only is full of your father’s stuff, it only felt more vacant. More sad and debilitating. 

Your sister never seemed to really accept any of that though, instead choosing to ignore it in favor of the free meals your father cooked or the platinum credit cards he would hand over. Something you were sure would pass along to you as well, anything to try and make you forget it all. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. 

Which was why you still hadn’t ever been in a relationship, let alone ever hangout with anyone long enough to form an attachment. It was the only real reason you had never made a move on Sam Monroe when you were seventeen and in high school. Even as you both sat on a dusty couch littered with weed and beer in some abandoned basement. Even as he stared at you the way he had from behind, the black eyeliner and shadow, blue eyes practically undressing you, almost pulling you forward by a string. You had been a little high and a lot drunk, and yet, you still couldn’t. Not even after having had a crush on him for well over three years. Three years and you left that basement without one kiss or his fingers even tracing along the inside of your underwear. 

Seventeen and even then you couldn’t let yourself like someone let alone get to the point of loving them. 

So, how would it be any different? Sam Monroe stood in front of you that afternoon, under the hot sun, just outside the new house he and his father had built. Sweat stuck to his shirt, dark hair still present but void of blue dye. His piercings were there but left empty, and you couldn’t see any makeup. It hadn’t even looked like him at first. 

But it was, and the shirt gave him away, that in the way your stomach immediately clenched, the familiarity of him enough to make you fall back into that last summer spent in that town before you left for college. 

“Y/N?” his voice was deep, deeper than you had remembered, a sudden twang of confusion filling your ears as he processed your presence. 

Standing in your father’s driveway, boxes scattered at your feet, hair pulled back messily out of your face, and beads of sweat appearing along your shoulders and neck. Still beautifully you. 

“Sam, hi!” 

You were just as surprised as him. Even more so as he seemed so different and yet still completely Sam; just taller, broader, even more like his father than you were expecting. 

“You’re here.” 

It sounded so much more like a question than a statement. 

“Yeah.” 

“Like you’re here in your dad’s driveway.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Yes.” 

“It’s been three years.” 

You stiffened, feeling as if your bones would break like they really did feel how long it had been and how much time had passed. It really had been that long. “I know. It’s been a while.” 

“Too long, really,” he admitted, and somehow it had never sounded so charming before than it had then. That sudden shock seemed to melt away, and what only remained was a softness you hadn’t seen in him before. A teasing smile appeared as he took you in again. 

You felt the lump appear in your throat, somehow matching the tightness in your chest. It was only Sam who could ever make you feel that way, even after three years. 

“How are you?” he asked, stepping forward, his hand extending almost as if he wanted to touch you, possibly pull you into him. You didn’t know, but some part of you wished it would be the latter. A part of you craved a touch you had never met before. 

“I’m good. Really good, actually.” 

“Yeah, it looks that way,” he replied, enough to stain your cheeks with a newfound pink. “How in that time did you manage to grow up?” 

“Me?” you giggled, pushing him lightly, your fingers lingering where they touched his forearm, “Look at you.” 

He chuckled, that glint evident as ever, “What about me?” 

“You have a house, Monroe. An actual house that I’m sure you pay taxes on with a job.” 

“Yes.” 

“And college?” 

“Online classes, yeah,” he confirmed and you coudn’t deny the wide smile that appeared. 

Almost like a swell of pride had formed — a sudden amazement that he really had done it proved everyone wrong in that fucking town. 

“That’s great, Sam. It really is,” you smiled, that urge to touch him again appearing, but it somehow waned at the thought, “I was sorry to hear about your dad.” 

He cleared his throat, the light diminishing but only briefly as his eyes danced across yours, almost trying to find something in them, “Yeah, thanks.”

“I can’t assume it was easy.” 

“No.” 

“I wish we could’ve been here for the funeral. I wanted to, but my professors wouldn’t let me reschedule my exams.” 

“It’s okay, I understand. Both your parents sent very kind letters to us. I really appreciated them.” 

You nodded, not knowing a response to it other than you should have done more. Texted, called, or tried to come back earlier, earlier than now, when you were only moving home for the summer. It was Sam. The way you felt about him was everything, really. Yet you were too consumed in the comfort of the distance and hiding. That was what you had focused on for so long. 

Your head bowed, eyes unable to meet his, instead finding comfort in his sambas, and the green grass. Inhaling, you glanced up at the house. The house you never even saw complete until then. You took it in. “It truly is a beautiful house. You guys did a great job.” 

“Yeah I think so too. Plus, it looked like it needed an adult to live in it.” 

You looked back at him, the teasing demeanor having completely taken over his expression in the form of dark knitted brows and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. “Adult?” 

“Yes, since you think I’m so grown up.” 

“You are, and I never thought I would see the day, Monroe. But, it seems I have.” 

“It seems so. Finally, Y/N Y/L/N is home.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed, somehow feeling a small sliver of the universe realign. Perhaps by the way he was looking at you or the reality that would become of you because of him. Feelings you were sure never really left in the first place. “I will say not much has changed around here. Well, except for one thing.”

His brows furrowed, lip lifting in interest as you took in his clean face. 

“The black eyeliner. I'm not lying when I say I might miss it.” 

“Really?” he chuckled. 

“Yeah, it was totally working.” 

“Working?”

You nodded, a teasing look of your own apparent, “Yeah. It was hot. Hm, just never thought you would be so different.” 

“Different?” he scoffed, the words somehow completely wrong as they left your lips, “I’m not that different, Y/N. I’m still me.” 

“Right,” you nodded, eyes following how his chest rose and fell, the t-shirt alone catching your attention, the bright yellow words somehow something you would expect to be said, “Well, I’m glad some things stayed the same.”

He smirked, following my gaze to the front of his shirt. It was black with bright yellow bolded writing which said, ‘I’m good in bed. I can sleep all day.’  The same type of fucking shirt that seventeen-year-old him would wear, seeming unable to part from the looks he would get when people would read them. 

“God, you wore stupid shirts like this all the time.” 

“Hey! I find them pretty funny. They’re charming if anything.” 

“Charming?” you laughed, the word fitting Sam exactly though you were sure no other girl would have described it that way back then. “It can only be charming if it’s true.” 

“True?” 

“Yes,” you replied, the word a mere mumble as you truly noted how it felt with him standing so close, looming over you. 

“Well, how about you can be the one to decide if it’s charming. Let you tell me if I am good in bed or not. Would make for an interesting summer, wouldn’t it?”

You knew then you were fucked. So completely and inevitably because you had waited that long. Since you were seventeen sitting in that hot gross basement, him only a few inches from you. You had waited, and suddenly Sam seemed so much more tantalizing, enough so you would maybe give in. Just this once.

[shootingmorningstar]

Hello! I love your writing🤍 could I request sfw and nsfw head-canons for Husker? He doesn’t get enough love. Thank you and take your time.😽😽

Of course you can, anon .ᐟ Maybe I'm just a little biased, big fan of cats that I am, but I completely agree. Thank you, by the way. That's so sweet .ᐟ Don't worry, I saw your extra ask about a fem reader, so I'll be adding that in .ᐟ

The NSFW parts of this post will be hidden under the cut ~ . Enjoy .ᐟ

HUSKER X FEM READER HEADCANONS .ᐟ

This poor kitty cat is entirely too touch starved, even if he won't show it. Asking for affection is just not something his persona really allows, you know .ᐣ So unless it's just the two of you and your relationship has been established for quite some time, it's likely you're going to be the one to initiate physical contact.

Once you have, though .ᐣ Good luck getting him to get up. You know that feeling that you get when a pet sits on your lap and you want to get up but they just look so comfortable that you can't bear to move them .ᐣ

It's the exact same for Husk. You'd been the one to start it, your head leaning against his shoulder. It had been a long day at the hotel for both of you and you'd settled yourselves into his room, some movie that had lost the both of yours attention a while back.

Still, you love getting to spend time with him, no matter what the scenario is. Something like a boring movie couldn't even begin to put a damper on your mood. You'd just have to find something else you could enjoy doing together.

So, innocent as it had been, you'd looked over to him for some cuddles and the second he felt your weight against him, he just sort of deflates.

Like I mentioned earlier, I think he'd try to be at least a little slick about it. Sure, he's leaning back into you but that's not so bad, right .ᐣ It's not like you can tell the second you'd touched him the stress of his day had melted away, surely .ᐣ

You can absolutely tell. You wouldn't ever get this far into a relationship with Husker without being able to tell just how he's feeling.

To me, Husk isn't the sort of guy to get into empty relationships. His life is already empty enough as it is. He's practically a shell of his former self. No soul, no power, bound to a chain at Alastor's grasp .ᐣ Booze is his only vice left, and even that doesn't seem to help.

So I really can't see Husk doing anything without emotion behind it -- especially with being coerced to work full time at the Hotel. What good is something, someone else who's going to leave him after they get what they want .ᐣ

All this is to say that Husk isn't the one night stand type, or is he in it for any sort of flings. When you'd become his girlfriend it was after he'd taken the time to get to know you and you him. You were the first person in the decades that had passed after he sold his soul that made him feel something, and that doesn't happen overnight.

So, yes, you can easily read him, and you can tell that he's getting far more comfort from your touch than he's letting on. That's exactly why it's so endearing when you see him subtly reach for your hand to entwine with his own, or the way his hand seems to pause in uncertainty before wrapping his arm around you.

He also doesn't seem too outwardly excited about going out -- that is if Alastor even allows it, but don't be fooled, he is thrilled.

He loves hearing you talk about things that matter to you. You have so much passion, so much life that it helps him fill his own voids in those areas. He loves the excited look in your eye as you drag him around Pride, sharing a memory or two about your life while you were alive as you do.

Take him home after a date and grab a drink with him -- the best thing about drinking with you is that you won't let him go too far. Addiction can't be cured by love alone, but having someone to take care of him helps his mental health enough to make him want to get better.

Speaking of taking care of him .ᐣ NSFW cut here .ᐟ

If you ask me, Husker's a switch. I don't think he'd mind being the dominant partner, not in the slightest. If that's what you're into, he will gladly take that role for you. Same for submissive - he likes being dominant and submissive equally, but for different reasons.

It takes a lot for him to open up enough to admit it, but I think what he really enjoys about being submissive is just that -- by taking that role, he's getting the chance to be taken care of. That's something he never gets, not anymore.

I want to say his dick is like.. 6.5 inches .ᐣ It's always the grumpy ones with big dicks. Perfectly sized, big but not to the point where it's painful.

Kiss all over his face while you take the time to undress him and he will be putty in your hands. This is one of the only times you'll catch him blushing.

Not to mention the instant hard-on.

He's really big on cowgirl when he's playing the submissive role. There's something about you taking the work into your own hands by riding him and just allowing him to relax and enjoy that drives him insane. Let him lay back and watch how gorgeous you are straddling him.

Bonus points if you lean forward enough to take his hand in your own and talk gently to him.

Please praise him while he's being submissive .ᐟ Tell him how good of a boy he is and how much you love him, how good you want to make him feel. He'll purr so loudly.

Pull his tail. Do it while he's close and he's cumming immediately.

As for Husk in the dominant role .ᐣ He loves it because every single other form of control in his life has been taken away.

He gets to decide almost nothing, and the thrill he gets from being in charge of both your pleasure and his is enough to spark a possessive attitude in him.

You won't leave him like everyone else, right .ᐣ You're the last thing he has. He'll treat you so good, you'll never feel unloved when you're with him so please say you're his .ᐣ

Let him prove it with bite marks and he will be over the moon. He looks like the cat who got the cream. In more ways than one.

Call it this to his face and he'll scowl, but he's huge on doggy when he's dominant. Just the thought of getting to choose where he bends you over and takes you is enough to get him hard and aching. I can't imagine he's too big on degradation, though. It hits just a little too close to home, and even if it's just an act, you don't deserve to ever feel less than.

This was my first time fulfilling a nsfw request, so I hope it's to you guys' liking .ᐟ My last imagines blog was sfw only, so I'm just a little nervous posting this. Let me know if it came out well .ᐣ As always, feedback fuels my writing muse .ᐟ A like or a comment would make my day. Bye for now ~

[lynnlovesthestars]

Blood.

Pairing: Astarion x gn!reader

Genre and warnings: hurt and comfort, allusions to sexual assault, past trauma, mention of torture, emptiness, lots of feelings ngl.

Gentle reminder that what is going to be under the cut, is a sensitive topic, we can't know who is going to scroll past it or read, so please be mindful about those around you. Myself I am a survivor and though I'm confident enough to write about it, it doesn't mean everyone is, so once more, please excercise kindness towards others.<3

Part One- scars.

Astarion cradled your body to his chest, he rested against the headboard while keeping you in his lap, his cold fingers traced shapes as he helped you calm your breath.

Even with the bandages wrapped around your body, the raw wounds ached no matter what you laid on, and if you had the chance of laying on a bed and in pain, or staying cradled in Astarion's arms still in pain, you always picked the second.

There was something about his touch that was able to soothe you. Particularly now, when you couldn't find the strength to do anything, his arms around your middle reminded you were in a safe corner, he wouldn't hurt you.

"My love" he whispered as he placed a soft kiss on top of your head. “You need to eat something, and take a bath” He hoped you’d turn your head, even just say yes or no, but you couldn’t, you just let everything happen. It’s been three days since you last had something similar to a meal, and Astarion wasn’t fond of the idea, especially since you were also dangerously close to being void of all your blood.

He didn’t want to force you to look at him when his fingers gently turned your face towards his, he knew what it felt like, so he didn’t force you to open your eyes, he simply rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed as well, as he was just caressing your cheek.

“I wish I could just take away the pain, my love” He kept his voice low, barely a whisper, words no one else had to hear but you. “I know it hurts, but you need at least a few bites of anything, even just a piece of bread.” His other arm was still wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him. He was never going to let you go, he would fight for the both of you if you allowed him to. If he had the chance to take the burden of your pain as well, he wouldn’t hesitate. He would carry it all, if it meant he could see your smile or hear your laugh, if it meant he could lay next to you as you slept a night without nightmares, if it meant you would scold him because carrying your pain was an idiotic idea, cause it would break you to see him in pain, the same way it’s breaking him to see you like this. Despite this he knew that you’d carry his pain if it meant he was okay, and he would scold you the same way.

He stayed silent as you worked slowly on his words, he knew well how hard it must be to even get your brain to move those cogs slowly, how hollow you could feel, how dirty your soul would feel. He just wanted to be there for you, help you, like he wished someone did with him.

Oh how he wished someone just held him close the first night he spent in solitary confinement, or when he’d have to endure months of starvation. The first time he was compelled to lure someone, he just wanted to scrape his skin off. What Cazador did to you was just like being stabbed over and over again while taking a bath in salt, but he had to be strong for the two of you. He promised to himself that one day this hollow feeling in your chests would just be a distant memory.

For a moment he was absorbed by his thoughts, he almost didn’t feel you squeezing ever so slightly his arm, like he guided you to do the first night, when he realized you were too hurt to speak anything but the pleas of in your nightmares.

“I’ll bring you some fruit then, my love” He placed another delicate kiss on your cheek before laying you on the bed, under the thick duvet. He quickly made his way towards the chest, gathering a plate and filling it with some fruit Halsin gathered in the woods outside Baldur’s Gate. He usually would eat the fruit as it was, uncaring if it had to be rinsed, but he put so much care in this plate, asking Shadowheart to purify the fruit before giving it to you, and cast some sort of heal on it as well, since you didn’t allow anyone but him to touch you. 

Once more you let everything happen around you, Astarion would help you up and slowly feed you a small portion of fruit while praising. Letting you know how good you were doing, and how proud he was of you.

He would do it so gently that the rest of the group was hardly able to keep his eyes off him, as he would try and coax a smile from you, while slowly he helped you eat all the food.

His tone was once more low just for you to listen. “Do you feel like you can walk a little?” He asked. At the absence of you squeeze, he took your hand in his. “Do you want me to carry you to the bathroom?” You could see it in his eyes, how he was pleading with you to trust him on this, to let him care for you. You trusted him with your life.

“Please, yes” You shakily let out as you lowered your eyes to your hands. You didn’t notice his reaction, since he just jumped up, but he could feel his eyes instantly getting glassy, and the knot in his throat slowly unclenching at the sound of your voice. It was days that the only thing that fell from your lips were teary no’s and heart shattering screams.

He was so afraid of hurting you, of pressing too hard on the wounds, unaware how you actually needed it, no matter the pain it would cause in those few days you learnt how to dissociate from reality, to ignore the stinging sensation or the phantom touch haunting you through the day. Of course you could tell the difference between Astarion’s fingers just mindlessly tracing your skin, and the feeling of nails dipping in your hips, at your legs or at your arms, fighting to pull you one way or another, while also trying to keep you from moving. You wanted to erase those memories, forget how it made you want to retch. You wanted to beg Astarion to erase it himself, with his touch, with his lips, with his everything, but words were too heavy on your tongue, just like moving your limbs.

Astarion was lost in his thoughts as he read the scroll Gale wrote for him, “how to warm up water, quickly. (But make sure it’s not too quick or you are gonna boil your skin, idiot)”. He gave it to him months prior when Astarion wanted to take a warm bath but there was no bath house in kilometers.

“My love..” He kneeled in front of you, taking your hand in his hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles. “Can you undress and get in the water or do you need help?” You wanted to tell him he could have raised his voice, you were alone and no one was going to eavesdrop, but you could tell he didn’t want to startle when you were zoning out or lost in thoughts. “If you need it, just tell me and I’ll call Jaheira or Karlach, so they can help you get in the water.” He over explained himself as he was just so careful to not make you uncomfortable.

“No, you” Your free hand rested on his. “Please stay” 

He didn’t reply at that, his cheeks taking just the softest shade of pink, as he got up. He kissed your forehead again as he helped you up on your feet. 

He waited until you nodded at him, letting him know you were okay with him.

He was very careful to pull up the shirt, trying to not pull too hard in case your exposed wounds would have stuck to the fabric.

It reminded him when he had to dress again after Cazador marked his skin, how unavoidable it was for his back to make contact with his button up, and how painful it was to get undressed. He was glad, though, that a good bit of your skin was covered in bandages. When he brought you back, and Shadowheart had to wrap you up, she didn’t have enough bandages to cover all your open wounds, so she had to cover the deepest ones, the one that were oozing more blood than the others, while she could only heal you a little bit at a time through that night.

Astarion was quick to unwrap the bandages, his face scrunched in a worried look, as you hissed at the feeling of your skin being fred, like it was about to peel off from your muscles, just like Cazador pulled it from your chest. 

Astarion tried his best to ignore the bubbling anger in his chest at the first sight of the bloodied lines, your whole body marked by that bastard, almost as a taunting reminder that in a way, he won. Cazador broke you, he took you in front of him, he used you until you were just hollow, he stole the smile from your lips, and there was no way to hide the reminder. Whenever you’d look at yourself in the mirror, or you’d look at your fingers, you’d see Cazador engraved in your skin, and he hated it. He hated that he was able to haunt him even after his death.

Astarion slowly guided you towards the water, helping you in until you were laying in the tub, and pressing another kiss on your cheek.

He was ready to step back, allowing you to let your body go in the warm water, when you didn’t let go of his hand. “No, please, don’t leave” You pleaded, tears pooling at the corners of your eyes, as you felt the haunting hand of fear on your shoulder. 

“I’m gonna stay here with you my love” He pointed towards the bench where you were sitting moments ago, you could have sworn that it was too far in that moment. You wanted, no you needed him close, to cling to him like he was going to disappear at any moment, to feel his skin against yours, to remind you he was real and not just a fragment of your delusional mind trying to cope with the nightmares.

“No, please, here” If you had the strength to pull him stronger, you would have dragged him in the water yourself, but you were holding that hand with all you had already.

It took him a moment to grasp at what you meant, as his confused scowl quickly eased in a sad smile. He lowered, so you didn’t have to strain your neck to look up, as his eyes searched for something in yours. “Are you sure, my love?” He asked in a breath, as he studied your face, your movements, how your chest was raising and lowering rhythmically, to catch even the smallest hint of hesitation, but when you nodded at him unhesitant, he smiled back at you.

He turned towards the shelf nearby, plucking several bottles from there that he placed next to the ones you recognized as yours. 

He looked for your eyes as he took his time untying his shirt, waiting for your nod before quickly peeling off all his clothes and making his way in the warm, soothing water.

For a moment you just both laid there, your hands intertwined as you allowed the water to caress your skin.

“How did you do it?” You asked, sucking in a breath, you needed some reassurance, any kind. “How did you get over it?” He could feel your hand stiffen along your body.

“I guess I didn’t until recently” He admitted, for the first time he avoided your eyes. “After 10 years of confinement, you stop trying to fight it I guess” His voice cracked at the last word, his hand unclasped from yours as he rested his back against the edge of the tub, measuring his words before letting them out. 

“After I was let out again, expected to comply without putting up a fight, it became a matter of survival. It was either that, or starvation, torture and pain” He was mustering all his strength to resist the tears.

“Though the feelings never..” He hesitated for a moment. “They never left, for 200 years. Intimacy felt tainted” You recall him mentioning it, when you were in Moonrise.

“Then you came around, and bedding you didn’t work” He could feel that disgust against himself rise just at the thought of using it against you. Or rather, at his advantage. “You were supporting me, you wanted to know my opinion about anything, you held me when no one would have done it” He tilted his head back, his hair slowly starting to lose its form as the steam relaxed the curls. “I don’t know what it is about the way your touch feels, the idea of you being so close to me, so vulnerable, for the first time in my life, it feels genuine. It feels real. It’s not coated with lies.” He breathed out for a moment, looking for your eyes, making sure he didn’t say too much and scared you away. “You happened and it’s like your touch is healing me” He brushed his index finger on your cheek, taking in your teary eyes, the way you were tilting ever so slightly your head as you listened to him, and the way you were resting your hands together on your leg, fidgeting with them.

“I will always have nightmares, and I hate that you will as well,” He admitted. “But now that I know that I have you by my side..” His finger gently traced the line of your shoulder, pushing them down so you could allow them to relax. “I know I can endure them, cause when I’ll wake up crying, and you’ll be laying next to me, I know I will be at home”. It was like he took his heart straight out of his chest, and laid it bare there for you. He wanted to let you know how much he cared for you, and how much you meant to him. He would be there, step by step.

“‘Starion” Your voice trembled at his sight, you could see it through his eyes, the hurt, how vulnerable he felt by letting you in his heart, and deep down the fear, that same fear that had been waiting in the back of your mind. The fear of being too much to handle. You wanted to say something more, but he stopped you, knowing that talking about this more, could have been too much for you.

“Shh” He whispered gently, extending his hand for you. “I promise you, my love. I will wait for you, I will be there all the way, even if you’ll be too afraid to kiss me for the rest of your life. Until the end of our days, I will still hold you to my chest and live off of that touch only” He smiled as you held his hand, and closed the space between your bodies, resting your head on his chest. “As long as you are by my side, I will do my very best to protect you, to help you reclaim yourself, I promise, my love”

[powerfultenderness]

Simon Sees You

Pairing: Established Soap/Wife!Reader. Implied Ghost/Reader

Rated: Mature 18+

Summary: If he had you…

Warnings: Cheating (Soap is a no good dirty cheater). About to cheat (and wifey is gonna get him back for it).

Word Count:  500

A/N: There was more, but this is all my brain was willing to let me write. My first foray into the 141.

[Multi-fandom Masterlist]

[Vigilante x Reader Masterlist]

Johnny shares pictures of his pretty wife and like every other man that looks upon them, Simon can’t help but admire. Admire you, and by extension admire him for locking down someone so stunning. 

When they aren’t deployed, when they are able to go home instead of having to stay on some base, Soap returns every day with a home made lunch. Not left overs from the undoubtedly delicious home cooked meals you cook for him. No, you take the time every day to prepare a healthy and tasty and substantial lunch for your husband. 

Ghost listens, a little enviously, as Soap brags about why he was late that morning. Apparently last night, after returning home from your full time job and cooking dinner for him and cleaning for him, you were too tired to have sex. Which led to passionate morning sex. Soap has a jovial pep in his step for the rest of the day. 

When they are deployed, Soap brags about how much you miss him. He turns his phone over to show the others the raunchy nudes you sent him, and shares your messages of how much you miss his cock. A part of Ghost wonders if you’d given your permission to share such intimate pictures and messages, but he doesn’t question Soap and instead commits the image of your soft body to memory. 

He’s a bit resentful when he sees Johnny sneak off with one of the female operatives. He can’t understand how Johnny can think of another woman when he has you at home, when he has you sending him pictures that Ghost would pay a pretty penny for online. 

If he had a woman like you at home waiting for him, you’d never be too tired to have sex. If you wanted to work, especially when he was deployed, that was well and fine, but if you did, he’d make sure that you didn’t have to cook and clean later. And he’d still have slow and soft morning sex with you. If he had you, he wouldn’t trade the lovingly made lunches for overly salted vending machine snacks. If he had you, he’d cherish every moment with you, he wouldn’t take you for granted. If he had you…

And then Simon sees you when he’s alone in his empty flat, attempting to fill an ever growing void in his heart with a random dating app. He sees you in a scandalously small bikini that he knows Johnny bought, he remembers the exact picture that Johnny showed off. There are more pictures that he’s already familiar with, none of them nude but all of them leaving little to the imagination.

‘My husband is cheating on me. I’m going to divorce him, but I want him to suffer the same betrayal.

Big dicks (20 cm+) only. I want you to take a pic of us.No need to show your face. Just your big cock fucking me.’

He’s never swiped right faster in his life.