#i am. so goddamn proud of this. and i HOPE it makes sense

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. II | Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops pt.II The Reckoning /j, this is basically just 10k words of porn with feelings yikes

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst (still Spencer feeling he isn't good enough 😔), EMOTIONSSS, Spencer STILL loves you so much, he gets a hug, and so much more!, talk about sex, detailed asking for CONSENT (be safe people), sex (piv), some frottage, uhhh what else, dirty talk, some dom/sub understones (sub!Spencer ofc), little bit allusion to subspace, Spencer discovers so many kinks in this awww we're so proud of you bby (mentioned kinks: praise kink, squint of liking being embarrassed, tiiny bit of a voyeristic thing), also I made him a virgin whoops so virgin!Spencer, proofread but prolly not perfect lol. Tell me if I'm missing any tags I am so tired

(also, Spencer will be bisexual in all of my Spencer fics because I am not a coward like the writers were and I will honour Spencer the way he was intended to)

HERE you can read pt. I, I do recommend it to have context and all but do whatever you want lmao I'm not your mother anyway have fun being completely wrecked like I was while writing this!! also thanks so so MUCH for 400 followers and almost 2k likes on the first part, you guys are the best and I hope you enjoy this fic as a thanks!!<333

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Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope��s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

Spencer almost breaks his neck with how fast he whips his head down to look at you again. A strangled noise escapes him without permission and what. What.

“Because, that would actually explain so much, especially the way you’ve been acting and really, that’s probably on me because I’ve always been telling myself to put them behind a password block but I somehow always manage to forget that because apparently I have only one braincell left that’s stuck spinning on the deep-fried version of Funky Town and well, I guess I’m glad it was you that found them and not someone else and-“

“What? No, no, I didn’t- What- that’s not- what-“, Spencer cuts off your rambling with a horrified, screeched version of a protest because how- how could you have guessed what’s going on with just one try? Is Spencer so- so absolutely besotted with you that he’s so obvious? Spencer is so very confused and overwhelmed with whatever the hell is going on, he kind of misses the slight twitching of your mouth.

“Come on, Spencer. I said it’s fine and basically my own fault. Uh- well, actually… sorry. Because, well, that’s probably not very work-appropriate… I will pay for your therapy session, just send me the bill.”

Spencer thought he’d reached the limits of confusion seconds ago but apparently, he hadn’t. What. What are you even saying?

“Therapy sessions?”

You just- ignore him.

“Oh, also, please don’t tell Hotch? He’ll be pissed, despite me literally just doing hot-girl shit, y’know-“

Oh, Spencer cannot take it anymore.

He says your name and, “Stop, please, please, just-“

You snap your mouth shut, pulling your lips between your teeth and Spencer definitely doesn’t miss the way you have to force your mouth to stay still this time.

“Are you- is this a joke?”, Spencer asks, frazzled and desperate and so confused he just wants to bury his head under the duvet and never come out again. Because if you don’t actually know but- are just joking around, oh Spencer is overwhelmed, alright.

Your expression changes into something panicked then. “No, no, Spencer, sorry. I’m- sorry. Of course I’m not joking, I’m so sorry. It’s just a little bit too easy to tease you. Sorry.” You actually look apologetic now, lips downturned and frowning slightly.

“Not joking- so… so, you know?”, there’s something big and anxious pressing inside of Spencer’s chest. The urge to hide away and never face daylight again intensifies tenfold. He’s flushing before he realizes, hands trembling and breathing a bit too fast to be considered normal. Oh god, you know, you actually know, you’re going to- you’re never going to speak with him again you are probably here to tell him how weird and- and-

You must’ve noticed the frenzy he is thinking himself into, because you reach out with one hand and gently nudge his thigh with one knuckle. “Spencer”, you say, voice serious and steady and not the slightest bit disgusted or harsh and it snaps him out of his anxiety spiral.

“I knew the second I walked back into that room after you basically fled the precinct. I am, really, genuinely, sorry for making you uncomfortable. Like, it wasn’t actually my intention for you to see them. And then, after I realized what… I just wanted to wait and see what you’d do, if you came to talk to me or, well…”

You sigh, the hand that nudged him ruffling through your hair.

“I didn’t handle this situation very well. I’m really sorry. So… “, you trail off, scrunching your nose in that adorable way of yours that makes Spencer want to kiss it until it scrunches even further because you’d laugh and try to fight him off.

“We can just- forget about this. Forget that it ever happened, or-“, you hesitate again.

Spencer feels suddenly breathless. Like he stands in front of a cliff face, seconds before taking the step to send himself careening towards something immeasurably great or devastatingly fatal.

“Or…?”, he breathes, voice small and unsure.

You meet his eyes again after what feels like hours. There’s something intense in them, burning, and it’s like an electric shock to Spencer’s system. He’d give anything for you to keep looking at him like that forever.

“Or”, your hand returns to his thigh, but this time you let your fingers travel along the shape of it and Spencer whimpers. The burning in your eyes intensifies and Spencer feels hot, suddenly, so hot he’s burning with it. “Or we can do something else.”

“Something else?”, Spencer basically croaks because his throat is so dry and it’s difficult for his body to function properly when you are touching him like that.

You hum in agreement. “Whatever you want. You can tell m-“

“You.”

You look a bit startled when he cuts you off with that one, desperate syllable. Startled but also endlessly amused and Spencer just- his mind is apparently turned off, what the-

You laugh quietly, and your eyes soften, and it does something to Spencer that leaves an ach-y feeling in his chest. Oh, he loves you so much he can’t take it.

“Sure. You can have me”, you say simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world for you to admit, “Tell me what exactly you want, because I’d give you the world if you asked.”

And suddenly there’s hot pressure behind Spencer’s eyes, at the back of his throat. You’re just- just- amazing and so lovely and so kind to him, no one has ever said something like that to him, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Spencer blinks up to the ceiling, desperately willing these stupid unwelcome tears away because crying about you treating him kindly is so on the bottom of the list of acting casual about this, so he rather feels than sees you sitting up next to him. Your hand slips from his legs and he feels the loss of your touch as if someone sucked the marrow from his bones. Before he can say something embarrassing like ‘please touch me again’ he feels your hand covering his. It fills him with a heady kind of courage.

“I want…”, Spencer starts, feeling entirely too uncomfortable with having to state his deepest and darkest desires. There’s the old familiar urge to start picking at his nails nagging at him, but you just interlace your fingers with his and start tracing random patterns into the skin there with your thumb. Spencer melts against you and tenses up at the same time because it’s just so- so nice. It feels so nice and Spencer never thought he’d ever get to have things like that with you but you’re here. You’re here, with him, and basically offering Spencer the entire world on a silver platter but it’s still so so unfathomably difficult just saying what he so badly wants.

“You want…?”, you hum slightly, voice soft and so tender as you continue painting patterns on his skin and Spencer would literally die for you. And that’s the entire problem. Spencer doesn’t know if you’d do the same. Well. Maybe not die die for him but. He can’t just sleep with you, and it not meaning anything to you. It would kill him. It would kill him, if after you give him tenderness and pleasure and acceptance in a way he’s never dreamed of receiving, you would go back to normal. Always politely distanced, close, but never close enough and it already twists his chest just thinking of that possibility.

“I just-“, he tries again, but when the words are stuck in his throat, sticky molten sugar that tastes like bile and fear, he pulls out of your grip and buries his face in his hands. He’s so bad at this. He’s the worst. No wonder he’s never had- had something like Morgan has, one night stand after one night stand (not that he particularly wants that, god no, but just-) because Spencer is just so bad at spilling all of the things that plague his gut and keep his thoughts in overdrive at night. No wonder he’s never even had a girlfriend or boyfriend before.

“Hey, hey, Spencer”, he feels your hands cupping his own, still over his face. Not taking them away, but just – there. “It’s alright, penguin, we can always come back to this another time. I’ll wait.”

Spencer’s face crumples and his breath hitches a little because- penguin. That’s the frankly ridiculous nickname you’ve been using for him ever since he apparently once looked like one, with that white scarf and knee-length black coat he wore during one of your cases where a blizzard surprised not only the team, but also the unsub. Spencer, like most of you, wasn’t prepared and thus, had to make do with what the helpful officers provided them with. And well, Spencer drew the penguin stick it seemed.

It’s ridiculous but sweet and it always makes him feel so loved, loved by you, because it’s adorable and theirs and he just loves it irrationally much, okay? And also, penguins are just really fascinating because-

“Did you know that most penguins live monogamously? The Emperor penguin is actually one of the only ones that mate seasonally, they only have one mate per breeding season. But most others have a mate for life, like, like swans and bald eagles.”

Before Spencer even opened his mouth, he was aware of the fact he was going to ramble on about some unimportant stuff. It’s always like this, it always feels like a breath he’s been holding in for too long, like an itch somewhere in his weird brain that only stops when he opens his mouth and infodumps and he cannot stop it. No matter how consciously he is telling himself to cut it out or screaming at himself to shut the fuck up you weirdo, it’s unavoidable. As soon as his brain latches onto a statistic or a fact it is reminded of, it’s an unstoppable force.

Like now. He is kicking himself. Why, oh why can’t he ever be normal? He feels himself flushing bright red from embarrassment and shame and frustration. He can’t believe he is rambling about birds while- while whatever the hell you two are doing right now. While in the middle of a conversation that started out with you confronting him about him seeing your nudes, jesus christ.

Spencer is about to suffocate himself with a pillow when you let out a graceless snort.

It confuses Spencer so much he lowers his hands to look at you and- oh.

Your eyes are shining with something that looks so close to what he would call affection, and it makes him want to bawl his eyes out and at the same time, smile so hard there’ll be laugh lines on his cheeks for the rest of the week.

“Well, that fits perfectly then”, you say, and Spencer doesn’t understand.

“What do you mean?”

You smile just a little wider, a little more teasingly but in a nice way, in a kind way and it leaves Spencer’s chest blooming with warmth.

“If you’re my penguin, I’ll be your penguin.”

Youryouryouryouryour-

Spencer feels entirely braindead. Only the fact that you called him yours registers. Because yes. Yes. Spencer is so yours he’d gladly let you make every decision for him from now on in his life and yes. That’s not exactly a very normal thing to think. Or to want. Spencer doesn’t care. He’s never felt normal about you for a day in his life and he definitely won’t start now.

“You- you mean- like, as, as mates?”

You scrunch your nose in disgust. “If you want to call us that, I think I’ll take back my offer.”

It punches a giggle out of Spencer, sudden and kind of light-headed. He watches your face break into a wide grin.

“But you- you’d like that?” You’d like me?

You pull a face, sniffing in a nonchalant way, direct your face to your nails in fake disinterest.

“Sure. Whatever.”

And Spencer can’t help himself. He sobs out a laugh- laughs out a sob or, whatever that weird noise he makes is, because you’re so ridiculous and he loves you more than anything in the world.

You roll your eyes, fondly, shake your head slightly.

“Of course, Spencer. I’d like that very much because I like you a very unnormal amount. Literally. On my knees, crying, screaming etcetera”, you say just like that, smiling just like that.

Spencer feels like he’s dreaming. He must be. There’s no other explanation for it. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you could like him. You. You’re so, so lovely and amazing and you deserve everything good in this world and Spencer is just. Spencer.

“You- you like me? Me?”, Spencer can’t hide the incredulous tone that seeps into his questions because you like him?

There’s no traces of humour in your eyes anymore. Your eyes look painfully honest, face suddenly serious, and it steals Spencer’s breath away.

You lean closer to him again, grabbing his hands with yours. Your gaze bores itself into his, intense and steady and he can’t look away. “Spencer. I know it’s- I know life has been hard on you for way too long. And that leaves its marks on you. That’s fine. It’s human. But. You do not deserve any less love because of that, do you understand me? Of course I like you, what isn’t there to like? You’re kind and funny and sweet and just so- Spencer. You’re so lovable and it kills me to know that you don’t see how you are so worthy of being loved.”

Oh.

Oh.

You can’t just- can’t just say things like that and expect him to not cry a little. Can’t expect him to act completely nonchalant and cool about all of this when you say things like that to him. Are you trying to kill him? Because it sure does feel like that.

Spencer is so completely at a loss. He doesn’t know what to say to that- not to mention what to do. How do you always do this? How can you see straight to the hidden, bruised core of him, littered with all these ugly and bad things and. Just. Figure out what to say to strike him exactly there.

It should scare him, being known so deeply. It should, but it doesn’t because it’s you. You are warmth and acceptance like his favourite place in front of a fireplace, book in hand and rain gently knocking against windows. You are quiet mornings at work, you are soft rays of sunlight in his hair, you are gentle hands helping you up when you fall and bruise your knees. You are –

A touch to his cheek startles him. He opens his eyes – when did he close them? – to your fingers brushing some stray tears away, so softly as if he’s something precious, something to be held delicately. That thought sends new tears spilling down his cheek. He can’t believe this is affecting him so much, so completely he simultaneously feels like he is going to shatter and be stitched back together again.

He never knew he needed this so much.

“Sorry for making you cry, penguin. I didn’t think this discussion about my lack of nude etiquette would get this emotionally damaging”, you say, voice hushed in the big silence of the room, a small smile on your lips and eyes so kind.

Spencer snorts, despite himself. This has really been a very bizarre evening. He feels almost drunk on the weirdness of it all, on the rollercoaster that his emotions have ridden all evening. That’s probably why he does what he does next.  

“Neither did I, especially after you interrupted me while I wa-“

Spencer shuts his mouth so fast he clicks his teeth together, eyes wide and suddenly horrified. He- what-

Why?

Why can’t Spencer ever keep his big mouth shut? Is he completely and utterly insane?

There’re alarm bells going off somewhere in Spencer’s head and a concerning warmth settling deep in his stomach when your grin takes on a slightly devilish edge, one he knows all too well and. And. Oh. He’s in trouble. So much trouble. Why did he have to say that?

“After I interrupted you while?”, you prompt him, eyes electric and hot and oh god-

Spencer is so dumb. An idiot. Of the highest order. High IQ, where?

“Nothing”, he says, voice high-pitched and rushed and he curses himself and his ability to act everything else but nonchalant. He’d be the worst actor of all time.

“Spencer.”

The tone of your voice rearranges something in his neurons. He can feel himself sit up just that little bit straighter, can feel his mind buzz at the edges. He’s never felt like this before.

He loves it.

“Hmm?”, is all he gets out. Trouble, so much trouble.

Suddenly you’re standing up, away from him and Spencer wants to whine because you should stay there next to him, forever fixed to his side. He doesn’t have to despair long, because you take one of your knees and gently nudge his legs apart with it and okay. Okay. That definitely didn’t just send Spencer’s mind reeling. That wasn’t just totally the hottest thing that ever happened to him.

You slot yourself between his legs as if you own that space and. In his humble opinion, you do. You so do. Spencer is willing to give you a map of his entire body and a marker and tell you to please demarcate every part of him you want. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.

He is looking up at you, at your burning eyes that still hold something so soft in them that makes the lump in his throat bigger again. And by god, Spencer just needs to hear you say it again-

“You like me?”

You move closer to him, lifting one hand and placing it underneath his chin. Your thumb traces along his jaw and Spencer feels like he is going to burst into a million embarrassed pieces.

“Yes”, you say simply, but the way you say it. Spencer can’t help but shiver and exhale shakily. He feels so warm, everywhere. His skin burns where your fingers are touching him. He never wants this to stop.

“You- You want me?”

Your hand grips his face a little stronger, your other fingers splaying over and down his throat and there’s a high noise coming from somewhere and there’s goosebumps on his body everywhere and oh, wait- it’s him. The noise. Well, how embarrassing but. He doesn’t care. Nope. Not at all.

…Okay maybe a little. His face feels warm, suddenly, warmer than the rest of him and yes. He’s blushing, okay?

“Spencer”, the way you say his name it- god, “I want you. I said it before, but. I will give you anything. Tell me what you want, Spencer, and you will get it from me.”

Your eyes are so dark and your voice so low and Spencer actually whines and. He’s hard again, so hard, because he didn’t come before and now, he’s even more pent-up and his thoughts are a mess, but you haven’t even touched him more than this and he’s already so worked up from you just saying these things to him-

“I want you”, Spencer pants, currently finding no other English words in the dictionary of his mind. And well. Emily was right about him. IQ slashed to zero when pretty person do thing.

He watches you take a deep breath, as if to steady yourself, as if this whole thing is affecting you as much as it affects him but that’s- ridiculous. Impossible. Because. Have you seen yourself?

“I know that, Spencer. But what do you want from me? Do you want me to kiss you?”, you ask, face suddenly so close to his Spencer feels your breath fan over his skin, and he whimpers because yes he wants that wants that- “Do you want me to touch you more?”, your other hand grabs his side, gentle but just a little bit roughly and Spencer is suddenly vividly reminded of the fact how strong you are and he feels kind of lightheaded-

“Do you want me to fuck you, Spencer?”

Spencer is going to pass out. And die. And moan and say, “Please yes yes yes”. Maybe not in that particular order.

“Okay, angel, anything you want”, you say, smiling softly at him as if he’s the best thing in the world and angel. Angel. Angel.

Before he’s even started to process you calling him angel, he sees a glint in your eyes, that edge in your smile again and before he knows what’s happening, you’re kissing him.

You’re kissing him and it’s- everything.

Your mouth is soft against his, and Spencer’s insides twist and flutter and his brain is kind of lagging behind, but he wants to be closerclosercloser-

It’s so good Spencer completely blanks on everything. There’s nothing in his mind except the feel of your lips moving against his. There’s no insecurity, no embarrassment tainting this moment even though this is literally like, only the sixth kiss or so of Spencer’s life and he has no idea what he is doing. But it’s so good.

A noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him when you lick into his mouth and Spencer’s soul almost leaves his body. He feels you shudder where you are pressed together, chest to chest.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe against his lips, in between wet, hot, kisses. You rub your nose against his, eyes closed.

“Hmm?”, he hums, his voice somewhere in Canada or wherever. His mouth is too busy smiling so wide it hurts, anyways. No time for articulating anything.

“You’re amazing, Spencer, amazing.”

And he wants to shake his head, no, because the only one amazing here is you. But it’s impossible to disagree with you when your mouth has returned to his in a way that is probably ruining him for anyone else. (He’s okay with that.)

You peck him on the lips once, twice more, before you press your lips against his jaw, exactly where you had your fingers before. Your hands are basically the only thing holding Spencer up in a sitting position, because he feels like molten chocolate in your hands. Muscles apparently forgetting to do their job and well. Who can blame them? Spencer has stopped thinking in proper sentences the moment you had walked into his life, so. Only a matter of time until you broke the rest of him as well.

You kiss his neck and Spencer gasps. It’s really been a hot minute - three years, one hundred, twenty-one days and twenty hours to be exact – the last time he made out with someone. Everything feels heightened on his heated skin, especially you opening your mouth against him and licking him oh god-

It almost feels like a reward when you gently bite at his skin next. Spencer almost screams.

“So good, so so good for me”, he hears you whisper into the skin of his neck and this time, Spencer does make a noise. Because yes. He wants that. Be good for you. That’s the only thing in his fuzzy mind that feels clear, that feels graspable.

He can see your pupils dilate. Can see the wicked lilt to your lips. “You like being good for me, don’t you, angel?”

ANGEL. Spencer is nodding his head before he knows he does so. “Yes, yes.”

“Fuck”, he hears you breathe against him and it’s strange, seeing the effect he has on you. Did really he do that? “I can’t believe how incredible you are, sweetheart.”

And you need to stop. If you keep calling Spencer these things- he’s pretty sure he won’t survive this. The team would need to find another genius to solve cases with. His cactus Greg would dry out and wilt and die. You and Penelope would need to find another victim to send confusing memes to.

“Did you like my pictures, Spencer?”, you then ask and that’s so not fair. You can’t just ask him that while he’s so utterly in your hands that he’s sure he’d tell you about every little fantasy he’s had about you ever if you asked.

Because Spencer wants to be good, feels that need so deeply in his bones, he nods frantically. “Yes, I- I liked them.”

At the same time the words leave his mouth, something feels wrong. There’s an ugly thing twisting in his stomach, so unpleasant it momentarily occludes the high-octane bliss-fuzz fogging up his mind.

You notice the shift in mood almost immediately. “What’s wrong, angel?”

And well. It’s just- that guilt. Of not saying anything to you about Spencer seeing your nudes, of just ogling you like that without your permission. That wasn’t very good of him. Actually, the opposite. He’s been bad and he hates that. Hates that so severely that there’s suddenly tears on his cheeks and oh no. That’s mortifying. Who cries before sex? Jesus Christ he’s such a virgin it is genuinely embarrassing.

“I’m- I’m sorry”, he stutters, a little bit hysterical, creating distance between you, arms slung around himself, “I should’ve, should’ve said something, I’m so so sorry, I’m the worst friend and now I’m- I’m crying, oh god, I’m so sorry-“

“Hey, hey hey whoa. Spencer, darling. Penguin. Look at me, please?”

But he shakes his head. He doesn’t deserve to look at you again. What was he even thinking? He was- so creepy and now- now-

Two warm hands grab his face and then Spencer is looking into your eyes again. He squeezes his own shut, but all that it does is send more tears spilling over his cheeks and he’s so fucking stupid-

“Baby, please.”

Spencer sobs.

Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. That’s the best thing he has ever heard but he doesn’t deserve these things.

“Of course you deserve it, silly goose”, you say and oh. He’s said that out loud.

Your thumbs brush over his cheeks and Spencer can’t not lean into your touch, despite everything. Because that’s just the way it always is. He’s drawn to your warmth and tenderness like a moon revolves around its planet.

“I thought we’d established that it was an accident? And if it was someone’s fault, then mine, because no password, remember?”

Spencer opens his eyes. The deep affection swimming in yours makes him sob again. He’s a mess. A crying, horny mess and Spencer definitely fucked this up. Why does Spencer always ruin the few good things in his life?

“Spencer, Spencer. Hey. It’s okay, I promise you. We wouldn’t be doing this, if it wasn’t, okay?”, you kiss his nose. “Do you want to lay down, maybe?”

He nods, not really thinking clearly. He moves up the bed, under the covers and curls up on his side. He waits for you to get up from the bed, for you to walk over to the door and leave. To say that this was a mistake, he was a mistake. To say that you take back everything you said to him in the last half hour.

He’s not just a little surprised to feel your weight dip the mattress, to feel even more sudden warmth engulf him when you spoon him from behind. You start tracing swirly patterns over the skin of his arm and he feels goosebumps spread all over his body.

Some minutes tick by, you still holding him, when his tears have finally dried up. He doesn’t remember crying so much in one day. Spencer feels miserable.

“Do you still like me?”, he asks, and yes, it’s pathetic and stupid but. He doesn’t care if you never have sex or if you’re not going to be more than his friend now. Because the thought of you not being in his life in any capacity anymore- just no.

He can feel you freeze and take in a sharp breath. “Wha- Spencer. Of course, I still like you. I don’t care what we do, I just want to be with you. In any way you’ll have me.”

You sound so understanding and sincere and actually confused about his fear as if you’d never even think of not liking him anymore and and and-

And something in him just- snaps. He wants you, needs you so much he’s going to die if he doesn’t-

He shuffles and turns in your arms until he’s face to face with you. You look at him, eyebrow raised in question but so beautiful and lovely and you still like him-

“I want you so bad”, he says and then he presses his lips against yours again.

You respond immediately, low moan escaping you and Spencer is greedy, he wants to hear more, feel more, feel everything with you.

He’s kissing you as if he’s going to die if he ever stopped, which, yes, he absolutely would, and you kiss him back as if you can’t live without him. It makes everything become hazy again, like before, and every bad feeling suddenly feels eons away. Like he’s underwater, floaty and relaxed. Safe, he feels safe in the way you kiss him and hold him. Like you always do.

You move your kisses to his neck, sucking and biting and Spencer is moaning and moaning and can’t stop and then suddenly, you’re gone, what –

“Spencer, Spencer, wait”, you pant, out of breath and flushed and he wants to cry again, “Sorry, sorry I just-“

You frame his face in your hands, a little bit roughly. “I’m so sorry for making this so hard, you’re being so good for me, but Spencer. Have you done this before?”

Somewhere in the fog that is his minds, Spencer finds his voice. It’s high and airy but he doesn’t care. “No, no, I haven’t.”

He watches you take a deep breath, feels your fingers digging into his skin a little bit more.

“Tell me. Do you want this, Spencer?”, your voice is shaking as if you need to keep yourself in check and Spencer can’t believe he’s getting to see you like this.

“Yes”, he says because he can’t ever want anything else, and, “Please make me feel good.”

You inhale sharply, your grip on his face bordering on painful. “Spencer, you’re incredible, amazing, the best- I’ll make you feel good, okay? I’ll make you feel so good because you deserve it.”

“Yes”, Spencer is not ashamed of how whiny he sounds. No. He’s owning it now. This is his thing now, okay? He’ll gladly be your pathetic wet cat, or whatever the term was that you sometimes use to describe him with. Whatever it even means.

“Good”, you grin, and then you push on his shoulder hard and he’s on his back. And you. Sitting on top of him, thighs on either side of him. Straddling him exactly where he wants you most and he exhales a needy ‘ah’. His hypothesis of liking being manhandled is… yet to be disproven. He’s discovering so many things about himself today.

Pleasure radiates in waves from where you’re passively giving pressure to his hard cock and yeah okay. This is good. Amazing. He’s never felt better. But-

“Please.”

“Please what, angel?”

“More?”

“More what?”

Your fingers trailing along his throat and jaw, down his chest and teasing ghost-like over his nipples are not really helpful in finding the right words to what he wants. You take pity on him.

“More touch?”

Spencer nods his head, so fast he almost gets dizzy because he’s at that point again where everything feels liquid, hazy, a little bit unreal. So, speaking is already quite the task.

You smile at him as if he just solved the most difficult equation. “Doing so good, Spencer. Incredible.”

He moans. Okay. Another hypothesis to add to his ever-growing list of scientific discoveries today.

“Where do you want touch, Spencer? Here?”, there’s hands in his hair. He shakes his head.

“Hmm… Here?”, fingers drawing circles on his chest and yes, that feels nice, so nice but he wants-

“Here?”, you ground your hips down and jesus-

“Yes!”, Spencer almost chokes on the sound. Pleasure shoots up his spine and he whimpers. “Please.”

You exhale shakily, looking flush. “Okay. Because you ask so nicely.” There’re two little taps on his lower stomach through his shirt. “Do you want to take this off first? Or no?”

The way you give him the chance to say no- the way you respect his autonomy so deeply-

It’s basic human decency, yes, but it’s also the hottest thing and Spencer feels so valued and understood and safe that he’s not even hesitating when he mutters a quiet yes.

You help him sit up because he’s currently not really heir over his body like he usually is. Help his head out of the shirt and thread his arms out. And then, he’s half naked in front of you and suddenly, the doubt and insecurity that’ve been so quiet so far are back with a vengeance.

The urge to cover himself is so big it’s impossible to stop his arms from wrapping around himself.

Spencer knows he’s not ugly. He’s not that bad looking actually. Can’t be too bad if Morgan keeps insisting on calling him pretty boy, even though Spencer sometimes still has the sneaking suspicion that he’s teasing him. But his friend wouldn’t be so cruel.

But other people like to be. Pipe-cleaner, leek, straw, big-eyes. He’s heard it all before. He has matured enough and grown into himself so that these things don’t bother him like they used to. But still. Still. These things are arduous to scrub from under his skin.

Your gaze on him though- he’s never felt so, cleaned from all of these mean words before. You look- you look reverent while mapping his skin and maybe that’s the reason why he lowers his arms again.

“Spencer. You’re a dream”, you say, almost in trance. Almost as if you’re hypnotized by him, and he’s flushing. But. Being watched so intently, being admired like that. He feels his dick give an indigent twitch against your clothed core. Another thing for the list.

“So impatient”, you tut and Spencer flushes more. He thinks he’s waited long enough for this. But he doesn’t say that. If you stopped now- he would definitely combust spontaneously.

You lean down, over him. Hands trailing along his sides like you did earlier, but without any clothes between your skin and his. It’s almost too much. And not enough. He feels electrified, where you touch him. His heart is hammering against his ribs so hard you must be able to feel it. His stomach is in knots, fluttery. He’s never felt more alive.

You connect your lips to his throat, placing kiss after kiss along the arched length of it. Follow the same path with your tongue and Spencer whines, curves up against you a little. Everything feels so good Spencer is floating in it.

You shift your attention to his collarbones next, kissing but then gently biting and Spencer feels the indents of your teeth all the way through to his back and he hopes, wants, you to sink them into him so deep they’ll leave marks. So that he carries the evidence of this with him for the rest of this case, so that there’s absolutely no more doubt to who he belongs to. That thought alone makes him whimper, makes him feel that tiny little bit more lost in you.

You start kissing along his chest, down his stomach. Open mouthed, wet kisses and Spencer shivers when the places you put them feel cold after because of your spit. The lower you get, the noisier he becomes and at one point, Spencer would’ve been embarrassed. Well, he kind of is, but he’s also so turned on that the embarrassment doesn’t feel as stifling like usual. Rather, in a weird way, it makes everything hotter, and he does not own enough brain capacity right now to decipher that. But he does add it to the list.

When your face is dangerously close to the waistband of his pyjama, Spencer tenses, holds his breath. Being shirtless is one thing, but… well.

“It’s okay, Spencer. We only do as much as you feel comfortable with”, you murmur, giving a small peck to the left of his belly button. You calmingly follow his sides with your hands, smiling at him with so much affection in your eyes that Spencer feels speechless, breathless, until the tension releases his muscles again and he melts into the sheets.

“’m just…”, he tries, he really tries so hard to tell you that he wants this more than anything he’s ever wanted but that he just feels… insecure.

You kiss his stomach again. “How about we only take off the pyjama? For now? If you want to take off your underwear too later, we can still do that.”

That… that’s actually a good idea. So, he nods.

“Words, angel.”

“Yes, yes. That’s- good.”

You look so proud of him. “You’re so good, Spencer. Perfect.”

He moans embarrassingly loud. He really should be more concerned about this. About how you are basically pulling him apart, thread by thread and he just lets you, willingly. How you know which threads to pull to reduce him to a sweaty mess in what felt like 0.2 seconds.

There’s a finger dipping beneath the waistband, moving back and forth along the newly exposed skin. Your eyes watch him intently, almost predator-like. A question is in there somewhere as well and Spencer nods again.

You help him lift his hips, help him pull down the pants. Spencer is kind of busy kicking his legs a little to shake them off completely but when he looks back and down himself to where you are hyper-focused on the outline of his cock through the thin fabric he blushes.

Even more when he notices the big, dark blue splotch in front of his underwear. That’s definitely never happened before. How embarrassing.

When you look up at him again, you’re also flushed. Eyes dark, wide, voice kind of unsteady. “Spencer, Spencer, can I?”

“Please”, and then you palm him with your hand, and it feels so good it takes all of his concentration to not come on the spot. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive this until you arrive to the main thing.

It’s not the first time someone has touched him like that, but it is the first time you are doing it, and it already feels better than anything he’s ever felt before. You’re either a wizard or Spencer is just biased because he thinks everything you do is ten times better than the same thing done by someone else.

Probably the first reason.

He has his head angled back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes. If he looked at you now, he’s pretty sure, he’d come. Visual stimulation on top of physical would probably be the end of him. It’s already too much, just feeling your hand move up and down his dick in various pressures. Almost as if you are testing what he likes best, and Spencer is definitely here for it. Definitely. He’s happy to just let you experiment with him until you know all the different ways to drive him mad with pleasure with just a few moves.

Which, you apparently already figured out, judging by the way Spencer can’t form a single coherent thought anymore. It’s already, so good, so freaking good holy shit, and you’re still not touching him. Still a layer of fabric between your hand and him and he kind of- just-

“Take it off?”

You still your hand, looking up at him. You look kind of crazed, almost a little pained. It takes two deep breaths for you to process what he just asked, eyes a little unfocused before they fix Spencer to the bed with an intensity that makes him feel unfocused. “You sure, angel?”

Spencer literally can’t do anything but nod. You stay in your position for some moments longer, before you sigh out a long breath, mumbling something that suspiciously resembles you’re gonna be the death of me. Spencer misses your warmth on top of him the second you hoist yourself up. It’s kind of crazy and destitute of him. You are literally right there but he’s waited for this for so long it feels like he’s suffocating without your weight pressing him down. Which is ironic and also, insane.

Your fingers are gentle, when they move under the stretchy fabric of his underwear. Even gentler when they pull down and down and down until Spencer is entirely naked in front of you.

Oh, he feels so exposed. While he has been the recipient of a mediocre hand job before, it’s been in his trousers. This is kind of the first time someone sees him naked like that, because school locker rooms and his mother don’t count.

He doesn’t dare look at you. If there’s anything akin to disappointment, not to mention disgust on your face- Spencer probably would have to jump out the window, stat. His gaze is frozen on his cock, steadily leaking precum on his stomach (which, embarrassing). He’s abashedly trying to insert himself into your point of view, tries to imagine what you think about seeing him like this. What you might think about his dick, if it’s too short or too thin or if it looks weird, if he should’ve shaved. If his legs look strange and too gangly now, or if his stomach connects to his pubic area wrong or-

“Holy shit”, you say, and Spencer is too curious for his own damn good sometimes, because he can’t force his gaze to stay away from you.

You look at him- like before. Reverent but more, so much more. He almost feels like a deity, the way you look at him. Someone to be awed by, someone that should be worshipped. Spencer feels his already in overdrive heartbeat quicken even more, blood flushing his cheeks so much it leaks down his throat, to his chest.

Spencer would literally kill to have you look at him like this for the rest of his life.

“Holy shit, Spencer”, you repeat, eyes now meeting his, “You’re like- a literal fucking dream. I cannot believe- you’re so beautiful, how are you so beautiful everywhere?”

Spencer whimpers and he needs you to touch him kiss him fuck him anything please now or he will absolutely die from heart palpitations.

Some of his despairing thoughts must’ve come through to you, because the next thing you do is moan, which is the best thing he’s ever heard. Then, you take off your sweater. Second to go is your cropped tank top and you aren’t wearing a bra and good heavens.

Pictures could never compare. Not even Botticelli could’ve adequately committed you to canvas.

Spencer must’ve taken some brain damage from seeing you half naked. He doesn’t remember you taking off the remainder of your clothes, nor does he remember you straddling him again. But, fuck.

Spencer kind of doesn’t use the f-word that often but-

fuckfuckfuckufuckfkcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkc-

You’re warm against him, and wet, so freaking wet, and it feels so mind-blowingly good- it’s a miracle he’s still holding on. But-

“Won’t last long”, he gets out, breathy and whiny and just so goddamn fuzzy from pleasure. The world could literally perish right now, and he wouldn’t care. He can’t care, because this is the best thing that ever happened to him and he won’t ever care about anything else ever again other than feeling you, you you you you, against him.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe, gasp, and fuck, the way you keep using his name. “Are you okay? Do you still want this?”

It’s ridiculous you even ask. But the warmth in his chest, the feeling of comfort and safety and ease – because everything with you is so easy, so natural - he feels with the way you look after him-

He feels your thumbs caressing his wet cheeks. You put small, sweet kisses all over his face. Take the time to brush away some of his sweat-sticky hair from his forehead. Place kisses there too. You end with a drawn out, gentle kiss to his lips.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

There’s really only one way for him to answer that. He trusts you. Plain and simple. There’s no one else he could ever do this with.

“Yes, I want. Please.”

You kiss him again. “So good Spencer, you’re so fucking good to me. I can’t believe you are trusting me with this. You are incredible, angel.”

Spencer doesn’t know how it’s anatomically possible, but he blushes even harder. Also, feels his cock twitch against you because he apparently likes to be called good almost as much as he likes being good. For you. Only you. Jesus Christ.

“Do you have a condom?”, you ask and ah. Well.

“Suitcase”, and wow. First word with more than one syllable since you straddled him the first time. He’s being so brave right now. He deserves a medal. Proof of Being Able to Speak Polysyllabic Words While Getting Fucked (Almost).

There’s humour glistening in your eyes, when you hide a fake gasp behind your hand and say, “Oh my god, Spencer you dog. Can’t believe you planned this entire thing.”

Spencer almost chokes on his own spit. “N-no! I just- uh, like being prepared.”

You grind down a snort, drive your teeth into your lower lip. “In case you accidentally saw your coworker’s nudes and them being down to fuck you about it?"

Oh my god, you’re the most ridiculous person he’s ever met. He can’t stop himself from grinning because seeing you trying to keep your laughter at bay-

“Yes. That.”

“But what if- what if it was Rossi instead of you seeing them? How would’ve your plan worked out then, huh?”, you wheeze, shaking from literal suppressed laughter and Spencer makes a sound like a dying horse.

“Rossi? Rossi?”

“Oh my god, imagine it would’ve been Hotch. He would’ve probably fired me so hard and then called me a week later to disappointed-dad-talk me to come back but to please, refrain from bringing personal files to work in the future.”

Spencer laughs. He’s still rock-hard underneath you, but he’s laughing because that’s what you always do. Being so absurd and silly that he’s shocked to laughter.

He adores you with every fibre of his being.

“What the fuck?”, you ask, incredulous but laughing yourself, “Is my misery amusing to you?”

And Spencer feels like being a little bit of a brat. “Very.”

You flick his nose. Grumble something like I’ll show you misery and then you move your hips against his and Spencer sees stars. Let’s out an embarrassingly high whine.

Ah well. It was still worth it.

“Don’t move”, you order, when you climb down from him to retrieve a condom. Spencer watches you, lets himself look at you. All the times he’s wondered how it would be, how it would feel like, being in this kind of situation with you. He’s never in a million years thought it would feel so familiar. Like you’ve done this before, so many times that it’s just become something normal between you two. He’s actually relaxed. So turned on it feels like he’s going to burst any second, but he’s calm. He feels comfortable, so much so that it doesn’t even matter that it’s the first time he’s doing this and he’s so clueless about all of this.

But he knows, if it’s with you, he never ever has to worry about anything.

“Do you have lube as well?”, you ask, rifling through his suitcase and distracting him from his sappy thoughts.

“Hmm. No, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, angel”, you say while returning to Spencer, and the nickname kind of switches something off again in his brain. Perfect. He’s never going to be able to be normal again about that word.

“We’ll have to get some, for next time. Always feels better with it.”

Spencer hasn’t really registered more than next time next time next time-

He’s pulled out of his daze of knowing your intentions of this not only being a one-off thing, when you straddle him again, a bit lower on his legs. Spencer moans, loud and high, when you grab him by the base and god, fuck, his skin is tingling with anticipation.

With your other hand, you grab the condom and then use your teeth to open the packet, and his cock jumps in your hand. How are you so hot. How does everything you do turn him on so much, what.

He watches you take out the plastic ring as if he’s watching from above, out of his body. He watches as you position the condom over his tip and then pull it down, down and Spencer’s brain must be lagging because he feels everything with at least a two second delay and shit, god, son of a-

“You ready, baby?”

He makes a noise between a sob and a whine. He’s losing his mind. “Please please please-“

“Fuck, Spencer”, you whine, lift yourself up a bit with your legs and then you are sinking down on him, inch by agonizing inch.

It’s so good, it’s so good, you are so warm, so hot, and Spencer can’t stop making noises until your hips are flush to his and he’s inside you.

You let out a loud, drawn-out moan above him. “Fuck, fuck, Spencer. You feel so fucking good, holy shit.”

He feels like he’s one move away from coming. God, oh god, it feels so incredible.

“Can I move? Spencer, please?”, your voice is wrecked, you’re flushed down to your navel, and you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Please please please please”, it’s the only word he remembers how to pronounce.

“Fuck”, you almost sob, lifting yourself almost completely off him. You lower yourself back down again, one swift move, and you both moan.

You pick up the pace a little, fucking him with still languid but purposeful thrusts. Every time his cock sinks back into you, Spencer feels bits and pieces of his sanity crumbling away. He can’t think, can’t speak, his mind so fogged up and fuzzy he’s having troubles remembering who he is. He’s so completely at your mercy he’d let you do anything to him.

That turns him on a worryingly huge amount. List, something about a list somewhere.

“Oh, god, look at you. Spencer, baby, angel. You feel so good inside of me, so good.”

He keens, grabs at your strong thighs bracketing his slim hips. Arches up into you, closerclosercloser-

“You like being good for me, right angel?”, you ask, hips slowing down to a gentle grinding that absolutely drives Spencer insane and he’s too far gone to even nod, “It suits you. Being so wrecked for me, moaning and shaking. God, fuck, you’re divine, Spencer, fuck.”

The pressure behind his cock, low in his stomach, that’s been building all evening, all week, holy shit, it’s too much. Spencer feels delirious, feels your hotness around him, feels your hands pressing his chest down into the bed. He’s going to die it feels so good.

“You going to come for me, Spencer? You gonna be good for me and come inside of me?”

Please please please please- it’s all he can think, all he can feel, because because-

You give a particularly hard thrust and-

Spencer’s coming, moaning and moaning, shaking everywhere. He’s coming and it feels so good, so fucking good. He’s never come so hard in his life before.

He might have blacked out a little. The next time he’s aware of something, it’s you cleaning him with a wet washcloth. Slow, and gentle and Jesus.

“What?”, is the first thing he manages to say, and you snicker beside him. You caress his face, hand running through his hair, down his chest. Peck his lips. You’re both still naked.

“Feeling good?”, you ask and what kind of question even is that. You just fucked the soul from his body, and you ask him-

“I almost died”, he says, tagging your name at the end with an incredulous tint to it.

You snort, setting the washcloth on the nightstand behind you. You lie down close to him, cuddling into his side. “That was the plan.”

“Killing me with sex?”

“Yep. That’s for ogling my nudes without my permission, you creep.”

He says your name again, exasperated but so fucking fond it’s a miracle you’ve never noticed his pining before. You shrug, pull a ‘what can you do face’. Spencer rolls his eyes and then, unceremoniously, flops on top of you.

“Uffff”, you press out. “You’re smothering me, penguin.”

Spencer shrugs and copies the expression you just did. You bark out a laugh.

“Ha! Didn’t know post-sex Spencer is such a cheeky little shit. I’ve created a monster.”

He can’t entirely control his face, some parts of a smile slipping into his features. He does manage to poke out his tongue at you though, before he buries his face in your neck.

Some minutes tick by, you both enjoying the other’s presence and warmth and idleness, before something in his brain-

“Wait-“, Spencer splutters, pushing himself away from you so that he can look at you. “Did you- did you even finish?”

He’s kind of horrified. He was so focused on his pleasure- he- how did he forget? He doesn’t remember you coming and oh no, he’s such an asshole, who doesn’t make sure the other person has come as well and-

“Spencer, Spencer”, you shush him, fingers trailing along his back, and he shivers, eyes rolling back.

“I made myself come right after, don’t worry. You were kind of busy in your post-orgasm, pussy-drunk coma.”

Spencer flushes. “But I wanted to…”

You laugh softly. “You can do whatever to me, next time, sweets. This was about you. We’ll go on a date as soon as we’re back home. Fucking Florida is driving me nuts.”

Oh, he suddenly feels shy. A date? You want to go on a date with him?

“Really?”, he asks, and he hates how insecure he sounds.

You send him an unbelieving look. “Uh, what about the last hour makes you think otherwise? Seriously, Spencer, we need to work on your confidence.”

“Okay”, he mutters, a little bit pout-y and you scoff, pulling him down on top of your chest again.

There, with your hands painting patterns on his back and him completely lost in your warmth and familiarity, Spencer thinks that maybe, Florida isn’t that bad.

--

Bonus

“So, then. Made any scientific discoveries last night, pretty boy?”

Spencer chokes on his coffee.

“What?”

“Nothing”, his ‘friend’ says, smirking and leaning against his table, “You just seem to have figured out that little problem that’s been keeping that pretty head of yours all messed up.”

Spencer feels himself flush. Stupid body and stupid involuntary, physiological reactions. Morgan picks up on it, of course.

“Ohhhhh, want to share with the class what those discoveries were?”

Briefly, so very briefly, Spencer thinks of his self-compiled list but- no no no no.

“Shut up, Morgan.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @wasitforrevenge @wannabewolf @tommorecommendedfics @winterhi09 @theoraekenslover @chaewondrful @okeyhoezayy @busy-buzzing @laurakirsten0502 @redros3y @trashxqueen @kitty-kei @so-long-daisymay @hayleythecannibal @jsnsnsnszjzj @reeidsluv @kayane28 @moonysreid @desperately-seeking-serotonin @munsonslunchbox @tul1p-mimi @anuttellaa @pinkgomie @elizabethmidnight2017 @evrmorets @cyanidebitsg @bangchansdog @pinterestwhore145 @some-one-yiu-dont-kno @emma-e-a

i hope these work lmao, also let me know if you wanna be on my eternal tag list for any future Spencer fic ;)

[marvellous1917]

Icarus Falling

(Part 2)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x female!tattoo artist!reader

Summary: It’s gonna be a busy day. Giving a tattoo to a mobster that broke into your home was nothing compared to the fact that you can’t stop thing about how fucking hot he is.

Warnings: lots and lots of swearing, mention of crime (duh), fights, broken bones, tattoo needles, threats, think that’s it.

Part one ⬇️:

A/N: AAHHHH the response to part one was actually insane!!!! I hope this second part is good enough. Love u all <3

———————

Bold is reader’s thoughts.

Italics is Bucky’s thoughts.

The size of the tattoo is in inches.

———————

Walking to the shop, your thoughts were running a mile a minute. Holy fuck, what the fuck, did last night actually happen?, James Barnes is gorgeous and made falling asleep last night really fucking difficult, screw him for making me all hot and bothered. Asshole. But one persistent one came screaming to the front- how the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank?

Unfortunately there was not a lot of time to come up with an answer to that, the shopfront coming into view as you turn the corner. Jigsaw Ink stood proud in the middle of the busy Brooklyn street, the black paint of the walls in stark contrast to the pastel pink of the florists’ to one side and the baby blue of the cafe the other.

The shop was a second home to you, the couch at the front becoming a bed for you sometimes after a night out, or if Caleb was being an ass. Frank was nice enough to let you crash when you needed, trusting you with his business. Frank, and the other two artists at the shop, Billy and Curtis were like family - a weird combination of protective older brothers and best friends who were terribly bad influences on you.

The bell on the door rang when you opened it and there was a yelled “Y/N? That you?” from a deep voice at the back of the room.

“Yeah Frankie, it’s me. I thought Billy was supposed to be here, not you?” You yelled back, moving behind the counter toward your station, dropping your bag and taking off your jacket.

“He was, but he managed to get his ass knocked out last night so he’s taking the day off,” Frank replied laughing, walking out from the back towards you.

“What? Is he ok?” You ask, giving Frank a hug when he got closer.

“Managed to piss somebody off at a bar, not really sure what happened, but he’s fine. Just stupid,” he replied, patting your back as you release him.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy but he is an idiot I swear, you can guarantee it was his fault as well,” you say.

Frank chuckle and nods as a response, “yeah I bet. Hey , you got many appointments today?” He asks.

Shit. How the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank Castle - literally the most protective man on earth - that I had to move all of my appointments to next week because a damn mobster broke into my house and demanded I gave him a tattoo today.

“…uh. No just the one, I had to move the rest,” you answer, praying to whoever was listening that Frank wouldn’t ask any questions.

“Why’s that?”

Fuucckkkk.

“Umm..no reason really..” your mind went completely blank, the only thing running through you head were those goddamn blue eyes.

“Kid, what’s going on?” Franks’ eyes narrowing, seeing straight through your bullshit response.

Ughhh. Change the subject right now. “Y’know you call me kid all the time, you’re not that much older than me Frankie. I mean there’s only-”.

“You’re ramblin’ kid. The fuck is going on?” He says, all sense of humor him from his voice.

Ah, there his is, protective Frankie coming in full force.

“Shit. Ok so here’s what happened-” you tell him the full story, coming home from work to see a dangerous criminal chilling in your apartment, the fear that came with that lovely surprise, Caleb’s debt, the weird philosophical conversation, the tattoo talk. All of it.

Of course, excluding the part where you found yourself extremely attracted to the fucking mobster, his weirdly slightly comforting presence, and the fact that the memory of those blue eyes where all you could see as your hand slipped between your legs before you fell asleep.

To be fair to the man, Frank listened to every word you had to say, not interrupting one. But you could see on his face every single emotion he was feeling, the main one being just straight up confusion.

“Lemme get this straight. The fucking Winter Soldier broke into your house last night and is coming in for a tattoo in..” he checked his watch as he spoke, “..an hour?”

“..yeah.” Hit the nail on the head there Frankie.

“Shit.” He says, rubbing his hand over his face in an act of desperation.

“Yep.” You say, patting his arm to try and reassure him.

“Alright, I’m gonna be here the whole time, don’t you worry about that kid. You’re gonna be fine.” He assures you, obviously worried about you.

“I know that Frankie, and if it’s any consolation, he didn’t seem all that bad.” You answer.

“Not that bad?!” He almost shouts, and incredulous look on his face, “Y/N he’s a fucking gangster. He’s fucking danger-“

“FRANK!” You yell, the only way to cut off his tirade before it starts. “I know that, but last night he didn’t do anything bad,okay, and if he wanted to hurt me, he definitely would have done it by now. I’ll be fine Frank, I’ll just give him the tattoo and that will be it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta set everything up.” You say, moving back to your station, beginning to grab everything you need.

“Holy fuck kid, how are you not freaking the fuck out right now?” He whisper shouts, running one hand up and down his head.

“I’m not sure. I think…I think I trust him not to hurt me. It’s weird, but my gut’s telling me I’ll be fine.” You answer, starting to print some different sized stencils.

“Kid your brain is brok-” Frank starts to say but he’s cut off by his phone ringing. He pulls it from his pocket and says “Shit, it’s my kids’ school, I gotta take it.”

You wave him off, Frank answers the phone with a sigh.

He walks off to the back of the shop, leaving you to finish setting up your station. Frank talks for a minute and wander back towards you.

“My girl got into a fight at school, Maria’s busy at work so I’ve got to go get her,” he says, dragging his hands down his face, in a way only an exasperated father could.

“Oh my god is she ok?” You ask.

“She’s fine, but apparently she broke some little shitheads nose for picking on her friends,”

“Like father, like daughter then,” you respond with a laugh.

“Can the people I care about stop getting themselves in dangerous situations for like five goddamn seconds.” Frank says, throwing a pointed glare your way.

“Frankie, how many times, I’m gonna be fine alright, go get your kid and -I dunno- take her out for ice cream, tell her she did good.” You say, pushing him to the door.

“Only if you’re one hundred percent certain you’ll be fine.” He says, already pulling his jacket from the hook.

“I’m good I swear, now go!”

“Ok ok I’m going, stop pushing me” he says, leaving the shop and letting the door fall closed behind him, the bell ringing as it did.

Only a minute passed before your phone pinged with a text.

James:

Have you already forgotten about me that quickly doll?

Send me the address to the shop

Now… please

Fuck me. Why does just his text give me fucking butterflies. Ugh. How irritating.

You send him the address and his response is cheeky as shit.

James:

See you at 1 doll, you better be wearing something pretty for me.

Little shit.

————

You had the music in the shop bumping, using it to help calm your pounding heart, adrenaline starting to get the best of you. Your favourite song came over the speakers so you turned it up and started to dance a little, knowing that you had at least 10 minutes before Barnes turned up. Unfortunately this action caused you to miss the ringing of the bell on the door.

Holy shit - ink and a show, today is going better than expected already.

Bucky slowly let the door close, trying not to disturb the dancing girl he couldn’t get out of his head. He lent against the wall, just watching and waiting…and staring.

Shaking out your hands to get rid of any nerves, you turn and nearly scream when you see Barnes stood at the door.

“Oh god, sorry I didn’t hear you come in,” you say, subtly looking him up and down and damn he looks good. Ever the powerful mobster, he wore a black suit, his black shirt had no tie and was unbuttoned at the top. His hair was slicked back from his face, opposite to how it was the night before. This was the other side of him, the business man - James Barnes: the face of multiple charities, the man that law enforcement could never seem to put behind bars. Last night you met the threat, the assassin, and you may be one of the first in his history to survive a meeting with the Soldier.

“No problem doll, I was enjoying the show,” he says, pushing off of the wall and stalking towards you.

Oh my god, “oh..ok, well I have everything set up and ready so if you’re ok to start I say let get going,” you respond, turning to the part of the shop where your station was, nerves flooding back, wanting to get this over as soon as possible.

“Damn girl, not even any small talk?” He asks, slowly following you to the table.

“Oh sorry, I would have asked how your day has been so far, but I didn’t want you to think I was prying into your business. I wouldn’t want you to think I was being disrespectful ab-”

“Ramblin’ again doll, thought I told you that you don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said softly, sounding genuine. “I know what people say about me, I understand why you would be nervous, but I just ask you to not believe everything you hear, ok doll? I’m not who they say I am.” His tone was gentle, almost tired but still pleading, hoping you believe him.

“So you’re not a mobster?” You ask, voice low and calm.

“Oh no I am,” he responds with a small laugh, “I am, and I do what gangsters do. But I am not the ruthless animal I’m made out to be, doll I’m just not. I do what needs to be done.”

His voice breaks slightly on the pet name. His tone is so sincere and tired. Oh my..he’s telling the truth. It actually affects him to hear that about himself.

“Ok,” you respond, siting on your stool next to your station and the table, looking up at him with no fear in your eyes, trusting his words.

“Ok? That’s your response?” He asks, moving around the table to sit on it directly in-front of you.

“Yeah. What did you want me to do Barnes, not believe you?” You ask, all fear gone from your voice.

“Of course not,” he says, confusion laced in his voice, his eyebrows furrowed, “but I wasn’t expecting you to believe me immediately, shit you were scared of me like a minute ago.”

“I know but I think I trust you? You haven’t done anything to me, y’know other than breaking into my apartment. I trust you when you say you’re not someone I should be afraid of.” You answer truthfully.

“…good.” He says, at a loss of what to say next.

“Good. So, Barnes, are we doing this or what?” You ask.

“Yeah let’s do it doll, and please, call me Bucky.” He responds, shrugging off his jacket, folding it and placing it on the head of the table. You had to make a conscious effort to not stare at the way his arms filled out his shirt, but damn it was hard. He sat silently waiting for you to talk.

“Ok..Bucky.. tell me about what size and what placement you want for this.” You say, “I printed some sizes out because I wasn’t sure what size you wanted, and I can reprint or adjust it based in what you want.”

“Oh you a real professional, huh? Not gonna lie to you doll, that serious voice is kinda getting me goin’” he says, smirk on his face, leaning back on his arms, lifting his hips and moving slightly on the table.

Fuck me, what is this man doing to me? He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s talking again.

“I want to get it on my forearm, the inside, and I think that size looks good,” he says, pointing to the 10x8 you printed.

“Ok that sounds good, which arm were you thinking?”

Silence. He stares down at you, an unreadable look on his face. You break eye contact and then freeze.

Shit. Shit. You dumbass. Which arm? Which fucking arm? Are you kidding? I can literally see his metal fucking hand. Oh dear god.

The silence between you goes on for entirely too long. You’re not sure whether you should apologise or wait for him to speak first. You weren’t sure if he would be offended, having a reminder of his injury.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just continues to stare down at you, that blank look on his face. Looking back up at him, you start to apologise but the words get caught in your throat. His eyes. He couldn’t control them the same way he did his face, tons of different emotions flowing through them, none lasting long enough for you to understand before another one took its place.

If only you knew what he was actually thinking. She asked which arm. She knows about my arm, everyone does, but she still asked. She forgot. The arm is all people see, a weapon, an instrument used to inflict nothing but pain. It’s all people see, but she forgot. That’s not what she sees. Maybe…maybe she just sees me.

He’s shuts his racing thoughts down, fully aware of how awkward the silence was becoming. “I’m thinking my right arm might be a little easier for you doll,” he says, an amused look crossing his face, his tongue poking his cheek.

You open your mouth to apologise for your mistake but he holds up his right hand and says, “and please, you don’t have to apologise like I know you’re going to, we’re all good darlin’.”.

He’s gotta stop with the pet names before I melt.

“Ok, uh, are you sure, because I honestly meant no disrespect or anything. I-,” you start, but Bucky cut you off quickly.

“Darlin’, what did I just say?” A stern tone coats his words and goddamn does it send a shiver down your spine. You internally roll your eyes and look away, back to your station, when you feel two warm fingers on your jaw, turning your head back to looks at him. Holy fuck. He places his thumb on the other side of your jaw, forcing you to keep looking at him as he leans in closer. His voice was low when he said, “That wasn’t a rhetorical question, Y/N, what did I just say?”

Jesus fucking wept. Somehow his use of your name made your heart pound, and the fact that his hand was so warm and strong holding onto your face.

“You said we’re all good..” you answer trailing off at the end of your sentence. His eyes don’t move from yours for a second.

“And?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.

Christ alive.

“I don’t have to apologise..” you say, eyes flicking between his and falling to his lips for a second and then back to his eyes.

“That’s right darlin’,” his eyes dropped to your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his lip. “So stop, okay?” He says, lifting your chin to catch your eye.

“Yes sir.” It’s an automatic response but you can’t help but be a little proud of yourself when he lets out a small throaty growl at the name.

“Careful doll.” He responds, letting go and leaning back, “How about we get started before I do something you regret, hmm?”

Like I could regret you.

You turn back to your station to try and clear your head of all the dirty thoughts running wild. “Ok.. Bucky, if you could roll up your sleeve so I can wipe the area, I’ll place the stencil and you can check if it’s where you want it to be.” You say, not used to the name he said to call him by.

“Mhm,” he hums, releasing the cuff link on his right sleeve, his prosthetic catching the glare of the light above, the plates shining. He places the cuff link in the pocket of his jacket and begins rolling up his sleeve and folds it at his elbow.

You clean the area and place the stencil straight on his arm, and peel it off.

“There’s a mirror on the wall over there, you can check if it’s alright.” You say.

“Okie dokie doll,” he responded the furrowed his brows, like he was confused at why he said that, not very gangster of him.

I like him. He says okie dokie.

“Looks good there darlin’, and as much as I hate to say it, we gotta speed this up a little, I’m expecting a call at some point around 2:30 and I’d prefer you not have to hear it.” He says, coming back to the table, sitting down and swinging his legs up onto it.

You take his arm, putting it on the rest in a position easiest for tattooing while saying “Why’s that? Would you have to kill me if I overheard your call?” You ask, enough humor in your voice for him to know you’re joking.

“Probably, depends how much you hear.” He said, completely deadpan. He looks at you and you have the strangest feeling that he actually wouldn’t hurt you either way.

“Shit ok. Is that position comfortable for you?”

“I’m all good darlin’, let’s go,” he says, adjusting his position on the table slightly. His left arm rests across his stomach as he sits on the table, leaning against the backrest, his ankles crossed.

“Ok I’m gonna do a small line so you know how it feels,” you look at him and he nods. You draw a line about 2 centimetres long then stop, “how’s that?” You ask.

“Ain’t nothin’ doll, keep goin’.” He responds.

“Ok here we go.” You say, getting back to it.

————

You’ve been tattooing for about 40 minutes, and there hasn’t been a word spoken between the both of you. His arm kept flexing whenever you moved away, and he kept clenching his jaw, like he was in pain but was refusing to admit it, even to himself.

“Are you ok? We can stop for five if you want a break? I’ve just finished the outline so I’ve got to change needles anyway.” You ask, disrupting the silence between you, moving the machine away from his arm so you can switch to a higher grouping for the blackwork.

“I’m fine Y/N, how much longer do you think it’ll take?” He asks, moving his head to look at the outline that you had completed.

“Oh it’s hard to say, but probably another 30 at least,” you respond, looking at him while he was admiring the tattoo so far.

God he’s pretty.

“Shit.” He says, rubbing his forehead with his other hand.

“Are you worried about your call?” You ask calmly.

“Not worried about the call itself… just having to do it here may cause some issues.” He responds, lowering his hand to his thigh.

“Because I’m here? I can go to a different room if you want?” You say, placing the machine back on your station, and turning to look at him fully.

“It’s ok doll, to be honest with you, nothing that needs to be said will make any sense to you anyway, and I mean that in the least offensive way possible.” He says, looking at you with apologetic face, tilting his head slightly. “But depending on the news I get, I wouldn’t want my reaction to… scare you.”

“Oh.. well I guess we’ll see when your call comes.” You answer, unsure of how to react to that.

————

The sharp ringing of his phone interrupts the sounds of the machine. You move the machine away from him, turning it off so he could speak freely without noise.

“I really am sorry about this darlin’, but it’s important-”

“Answer it then, it’s fine Bucky.” You cut him off, concerned he was going to miss it if he kept talking.

He gave you another apologetic look, and then turned his back to you to get off the table and answer the call.

You sat in silence as he started to speak.

“Rogers, what did ya find?” His voice changes from how he speaks to you, deeper and more serious.

The person on the other line speaks for a moment before Bucky responds, “we already knew that, didn’t we? What new information did you find?”

Silence.

“Of course he is..,” there is anger in his tone now, “get someone to tell the asshole he can threaten what he likes, I’m not sitting down with him.”

A moment goes by and you think that may have been the end of it, until you see his shoulders tense and-

“FUCK NO!” He shouts, making you jump a little.

“No Rumlow Gets Nothing, I don’t give a shit what he’s doing… Then send the commissioner a goddam gift basket Steve, some portraits of his family would be nice, remind him why he pays us the fucking protection fee.” He seethes at the man down the phone.

This should not be turning me on, shit.

“For fucks sake… Walker is nothing Steve, just some fucking Nazi junkie with a rich daddy, trying to get his hands on my shit…get Nat to bring his ass in, I’ll deal with it Steve… I said I’d deal with it.”

His tone on the last sentence sends a shiver down your spine, what the fuck does ‘deal with it’ mean?

“Ah shit is he ok?” Bucky asks, tone soft now, caring even, “Damn, he’s gonna be out for blood now.. good for him.. give Clint the week off, find the guys and give the pricks to him, let him get out some of his pent up craziness out.”

Oh Clint sounds fun.

“Ok, alright I gotta go now man. Yeah I’m at the shop… nah it’s nothing..yeah ya did… ok fuck off now.. later man.”

He hangs up the phone, takes a death breath and pinches the place between his eyebrows, his other hand going to his hip. He stands like that before he turns back to you, with a small awkward smile. That was cute.

“Sorry about that doll, hope I didn’t upset ya,” he says, walking around the table and looking down at you.

“You didn’t. I gotta ask though, is your friend or whoever ok?” You ask, not bringing up the start of the call where the man in-front of you all but admitted to a multitude of crimes - blackmail, extortion, supplying drugs. He sounded different- genuine when he asked if the man was ok. It was sweet.

“Clint? Yeah no he’s fine, got jumped last night so he’s pissed about it, but he’s ok, worst thing he got were some nasty bruises and a broken finger.” Bucky responds, confusion on his face, wondering why you care.

“How did he break a finger?” you ask, moving backwards as he sits back on the table.

“Oh he didn’t go down without a fight, clocked one of them on his way out,” he says with a small chuckle.

“Ah, good for crazy Clint,” you say with a smile.

Bucky let’s out a sharp quick laugh, “that exactly what I thought doll,” he says, leaning back and putting his arm on the rest, “ready when you are.” He adds.

Ok right back to it. Got it boss.

“Ok, should only be about 10 more minutes.” You say.

“Alright doll.” He answers, leaning his head back on the rest, tilting his head so he could watch you.

Ten minutes later you were finished, putting your machine down for the final time.

“Okie dokie, I’m all done. Have a look in the mirror, see what ya think,” you say, hoping he liked it, not much you could do about it if he didn’t.

He moves over to the mirror, checking out his new ink, twisting his arm around to see it fully. He’s silent for a little while before he says, “fuck doll, you’re a damn artist.”

“Does that mean you like it?” You ask, failing to hide the hope in your voice.

“I love it. Couldn’t have asked for a better one for my first piece.” He says, walking forwards to stand in-front of you, letting you wrap the fresh tattoo, handing him a leaflet on aftercare as you talk.

“You’re shitting me,” you say, “was that seriously your first one?”

“Yeah, why are you so surprised darlin?” He responds, tilting his head.

“I don’t know, just sorta thought you’d have them all over.” You answer.

“All over, huh. You been thinking about me naked doll?” He says with a cheeky grin, talking half a step closer to you.

Shit.

“What, n-no of course not, why would I do that. I mean I’m sure you look good - uh fine.. naked but I don’t-” you cut yourself off before you embarrass yourself anymore.

“No, no ramble on Y/N please, I’m really enjoying watching you try to figure your way out of the grave you’re digging right now,” he says, chucking lightly.

“Shut up Bucky, leave me alone” you responds, looking down at your feet.

“Hey,” he grabs your chin, again, and add pressure until you’re looking up at his eyes, “don’t ever try and tell me what to do, darlin, I don’t tend to respond well to it. I won’t ‘shut up’ and I’ll never ‘leave you alone’… I like ya too much for that.” He says, sounding like a mix between a threat and a compliment.

“Uh.. okay.” You answer, not sure how to respond to his words.

He can tell that you don’t know what to say, so he mercifully breaks the silence. “I love the tattoo doll, it’s looks amazing. You’ve got a talent Y/N.” He drops his hand from your chin as he speaks.

“Thank you, Bucky. It means a lot.” You answer sincerely.

“How much do I owe you sweetheart?�� He asks, reaching into his jacket for his wallet.

That’s a new one.

“Uh, say $180?” You respond.

“$180? Damn you gotta charge more than that doll,” he says pulling some bills from his wallet.

He hands you the bills and says “now that’s for today and it should cover next time too, take half for now and half for then.”

You’re stunned by the fact that he’s already planning for next time but your jaw actually drops when you look at the bills.

They were hundreds.

“Woah I think you gave me the wrong bills,” you say, trying to push the bills back in his hands.

“No I didn’t, I know what I gave you. $180 for today, say $200 for next time and the rest is tip.” He answers smoothly, folding your hand back over the bills.

You look down to count and start shaking your head, “I can’t accept this, it’s way too much.”

“Consider it a thank you for dealing with the inconvenience of me having to do business in the middle of the appointment.” He says with a smile.

“Bucky this is 2000 dollars.”

“I know.” He puts up his hand again, stopping you from talking, “I’m not taking it back doll, just have it will ya?” He says, rolling his sleeve back down, doing the cuff back up with the cufflink and placing his jacket back on.

“Oh my god, you’re serious aren’t you?” You ask, unbelievable he wanted you to have over fifteen hundred dollars as tip.

“Yes I am.” He answers, straightening his jacket, “it also may be a small bribe.”

There it is.

“A bribe for what?” You ask, expecting his to ask you to keep quiet about his call.

“I want you to be my artist, anytime I want a tattoo, I want you doing it for me.” He says, smiling down at you with a hint of…something him his eye.

“Really?” You ask in shock, not expecting that from him.

“Yeah, like I said earlier, you got talent. I want more of you on me.” Bucky says smirking at the euphemism he made.

Fuck me running.

“Oh..shit.. yeah ok, that sounds..,” you swallow heavily, “sounds like a plan.” You smile up at him, trying to hide the way his words affected you.

He smiles back, stepping closer and closer until his chest is almost touching yours.

“Yes it’s does. You’re mine now doll,” he says, a dark look in his eye. You swallow hard again and your breath stutters at his words, eyes going straight to the floor. He notices your reaction and smirks, “my artist, I mean.” He continued.

“Although, judging by your little reaction there, I’d bet you be ok with that, wouldn’t you doll?” He says, his tone slightly mocking.

You say nothing.

He hums, then places his right hand on your cheek and tilts your head so you’re looking him in the eye again.

“Would you?” He asks softly.

“Maybe,” you whisper, a cocky smile breaking out on his face.

“Maybe, huh? ‘Mkay, guess I’ll just have to convince you then doll.” He says back, leaning closer, eyes going to your lips before he looks back up, giving you a chance to get out of the situation.

“Guess so.” You respond, some confidence back in your voice.

He hums again, and then he’s kissing you. His kiss is forceful but somehow still gentle, like he’s holding back as much as he can.

Fucking finally you can’t help but think as you move your hand to his wrist, the other one going to his left bicep, the feel of the solid metal under your hand was new, but not unwelcome.

His metal hand moves, wrapping around your back and pulling you against him, deepening the kiss when you gasp.

Reluctantly, you break the kiss when you run out of air. He leans back, the pressure on your back relieving a bit.

“Damn doll, what the fuck are you doing to me?” He asks, biting his bottom lip.

“Something good, hopefully.” You respond cheekily.

He groans, leaning his head back. “Yeah hopefully darlin’. I hate to say it sweetheart but I gotta get going.” He says, releasing his hold on you. He moves towards the door and for a second you think he going to leave without another word, until he turns back and says “I’ll talk to you later doll, keep your phone on or I’ll drop by.” He finished his sentence with a wink, and then he’s gone, the bell on the door ringing behind him.

Fuucckk. Maybe I’ll break my phone so he has to come by. Who knew the fucking Winter Soldier was actually a gorgeous softie under it all.

————

A/N: Ta da! Finally complete!! Love everyone of you that read this, mwah 😘

I can’t tag anyone else on this post so I will tag the rest in a separate post.

Tags:

@sleepyghostygirl @starlightaurorab @scrynexxtins @where-the-river-bends @imagines-of-the-fandom @bigenargy @uraverageatiny @squeezyvalkyrie @mylifeispainandiloveit @mrvlxgrl @bopbeepboopbopbeep @yvessaintmuerte @thecubanator2 @flubblubbb @teambarnes72 @ria132love @pingpongfingfong @cashhvi @rivthejellyfish @mybakubaby @blue-chup @goatsmcgee @facinated-lemon @daddylorianisastateofmind @buckybarnesb-tch @yeahimcrying @shifting2places @fand0mskullfa1ry @1-800-bxrnes @amiets2 @aliabhatt19 @leabunny @justmarlen3 @bofadeezs @jehduxi @grey107th @king-of-spades-aroace @sebismyhubby @princezzjasmine @sebastianstanswhore @cluckityduck @shuriri4life @calwitch @goodkittyspost @iateall-yourcookies @miss-i-ship-it @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @anawhitethorn @radiator-hands @tripletstephaniescp

[tomshelbystitsfics]

Untitled Fic.

Eventual!Carmen x Reader

(this is just the beginning for the fic. its storyline/plot building. also the reader is midsize. not skinny but not plus. in the middle)

(im posting this its the beginning to a fic im writing & i just wanted to post this lil excerpt. hoping to get some feedback & see what people think! please, let it rip:)

Home. Home? What did that word mean to you? It was a noisy, dirty, yet charming city. An old house, at least sixty years old. Paint now peeling, gutters full of old leaves and shit. Home, a minute's walk across the road. Inside a warm dish of delicious food awaits. Michael hands you that first plate. There it was, the moment of truth. Determining if you were friend or foe. Not really though, just testing to see if you were a narc. (Later you would argue with Mikey that his logic made no sense whatsoever.)

You found a home in the dysfunctional, crazy ass Berzatto family. They quickly accepted you as one of their own. Having been Carmy’s best (and only) friend. Always so polite and sweet. Until Mikey or Richie pissed you off. They were always picking on you and Carmy. And sometimes they pushed hard enough to set you off. That is exactly why you’re all in this situation now.

“Fucking A. You ain’t gotta hit me that hard asshole! Seriously, it was just a fucking joke man! Lighten the FUCK UP!” Richie yelled. You sat across the island from him. Mikey was digging through the freezer. He was trying to find something to ice Richie’s face. You had given the bastard a black eye and a bloody fucking nose. Mikey was more than impressed. So was Richie, but he wouldn’t be telling you that any fucking time soon.

“I’m sorry Rick,” he scowled as you called him that. “I tried to warn ya that you went too far, but no, you just had to go there.” He just stared at you, deadpan. You sucked in a breath, cheeks puffed out. Head in your hands you let out the breath. Standing up and making your way in front of the man. A hand extended out, an olive branch.

Scoffing he smacked the hand away. Your chest tightened, Richie was basically your older brother. His rejection hurt, a fucking lot in fact. Not wanting him to see the tears starting to well up, you start to turn away. That is when you feel it. Two long, solid arms wrap around you. Twisting around, you rest your chin on his shoulder and grasp the back of his old ass hoodie tight. Fingers clenching the fabric.

“It’s all good Doll. I still love ya. Even if you broke my goddamn nose.” Richie held you, then after a beat, “I mean shit. My cheekbone feels like a grown man split it, kid.” The tender moment was over for now. Richie is trying to make a joke out of it. You smirk, shoving him by the shoulders into his previous seat.

“ ‘S what ya get asswipe! Quit fucking with her when she says. It’s called ‘boundaries’ cousin? Ever heard of the concept?” Mikey slapped a steak on his eye. The other man groaned.

“FUCK SAKES MIKEY! Please, could ya be a little more considerate or some shit? I already got rocked. Don’t need a worse fucking bruise.” Mumbling as he pushed Mikey’s hand away, holding the slab of meat.

“I am not eating that shit later Mikey, no fucking shot.” Giggling, you give the man a kiss on the cheek. “What’s for dinner anyways?” The dark haired man seemed to think for a moment, then said something similar to what landed Richie his shiner and fucked nose.

“Ask Carmy, I’m sure he has a few ideas for what he wants.” Wagging his eyebrows at you. The smirk was audible. Mikey seemed to be proud of himself for the quip.

“Y-You…motherfucker.. I swear I’ll end you, Berzatto. YOU BITCH, C’MERE.” You took off around the island to where he stood in front of the kitchen sink. Richie was screaming and crawling up onto the counter, “ You two fucks better watch out for me. My shit’s busted enough. Get the fuck outta here!”

The memories of Mikey and the family keep swirling through your head as you stand in front of the funeral home. It had been a year since you physically saw any of the Berzatto clan. Too many years since seeing your best friend. Carmen Anthony Berzatto. A name you desperately wanted to forget. The name felt hollow to say, a distant memory. A smoke show that never existed except only in the dark recesses of your mind. Brought up when you wish to torture yourself even more than usual.

Drinking in the cold Chicago air, you begin the trek up the stairs. One measly step at a time. Hoping to calm your racing heart. It felt like the organ was lodged in your throat, bound to come up in a grisly mess at any second. The walk into the foreboding building felt like it took light years and seconds all at once. Standing before the doors, hand hovering over the knob. Psyching yourself up you finally grasp the knob and starting to pull and-

“Fucking Christ! This is fucking insane.” A familiar voice barks out. The door was quickly and haphazardly thrown open. PANG! Jumping back it only caught your arm a bit. The pain was nice and a needed distraction.

“Oh shit, I am so sorry, I-I didn’t realize anyone…” a small gasp of surprise and a tearful chuckle. Then a slow shaky intake of air, “Doll, is-is that you? Or am I just fucking nuts?” Desperation paints his tone. His words crack and waver with emotion, no, sadness and grief. And a bit of hope.

“Hey cousin, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Your voice was thick with the tears ready to be shed. Before you know you’re shoved into his warm chest. All you smell is stale cigarettes, and his woodsy, Ed Hardy cologne. The aroma of smoke, along with bergamot and amber soothes you. There was a time you despised this fucking scent. It was always too strong and pungent. Telling Richie he smelt like a hooker, wanting to piss him off.

“At least one of us is shaking ass and making some cash Doll.” SMACK! Richie shook his hips at you.

“You made it inside yet? ‘Course not, fuck. I-I’m sorry Doll, my brain is fucking lost. I-I don’t have a goddamn clue about what’s going on.” Apologizing and rubbing his nose roughly.

“Can’t lose something you never had Rick.” You smirk, jabbing him in his ribs.

“Hardy har. You got fucking jokes, eh? Nice, real nice…Shit.” Richie let out a loud sigh and looked at his feet, “Don’t call me fucking Rick man. Shit wasn’t cool when you were a kid, sure as shit ain’t cool now pip squeak.” He smacked you lightly on the back of your head. Reaching into his coat he grabs a cigarette, and swings the pack towards you. You quit smoking, a year ago. But, fuck it.

It is a funeral after all. Might as well take the edge off somehow. Being sober was fucking awful at times. You both finished the cigarettes in silence. After stubbing the cherry out, you gestured to the door.

“Think we should, uh, ya know?”

Richie swallowed his nerves and gave a single nod. The man had a hold of the handle before you could even think about it. Walking into one of the absolute worst possible moments of your entire fucking life.

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

I AM BACK 😈

may I request more father figure tim hcs with an emo/ scene kid teen BUT they are rlly hyper sometimes, and makes him gifts a lot, like they have super edgy makeup and outfits on but they act so happy and make him gifts like drawings and matching homemade bracelets <33 and when they get excited they run around and flap their hands (HOPE THIS MAKES SENSE HSHWJEJSJ) father figure tim is so sweet it makes me happi.

BYE HAVE A GUD DAY/NIGHT!!! 🫶

WELCOME BACK LOVE!! Father figure Tim makes me so happy too! Thank you so much for making me think so hard about this. I hope this is long enough! If not, my requests are always open! (love love love the picture btw!!)

FATHER FIGURE TIM PT.2

This poor man… He’s TIRED!! Let him REST

Happy as long as his kids are happy but LORDY all the energy is almost too much for him

He already has Toby around and he’s an absolute coin toss so he doesn’t know how much energy he can deal with at home

Makes sure the kid is in some sort of physical activity to burn off all the energy. Doesn’t even matter if it’s getting them a bike or putting them in a sport. Just something to bring the energy down at least a couple nights a week.

Absolutely no sweets for this kid!! Sugar is REGULATED around here!

Brian definitely brings them a stash whenever he’s over though 👀

Totally fine with his kid wearing whatever they want, doesn’t mean he exactly loves the wild style but he doesn’t have the heart to tell them not to wear what they want.

MIGHT and I mean mayyyybe would let the kid do his makeup. But it can only be the two of them around, no pictures, and absolutely no soul will know about it.

If he sees something in the store he thinks his kid would like, he more than likely gets it and puts it on their bed as a surprise for when they come home from school.

Let’s the kid decorate the house since he has absolutely no decorating skill at all. Just keep it classy yk?

If the kid draws him anything it’s going on the goddamn fridge. No question about it! It will be shown off and he’ll take pictures of it and show it to all of the creeps when he sees them

He’s so proud of his kids work 🥹

He’d let them try to teach him how to draw, even though that’s obviously not his thing at all

I can imagine them at the kitchen table drawing with the kids music playing in the background as they share everything about every song that plays while he sits and listens quietly, asking questions here and there

Honestly they make a night of the week for that, a family night. It doesn’t have to be just drawing, it could be watching movies, playing catch (cause he is that kind of dad), or making bracelets

No one misses family night!!

He’ll let them invite any of their friends too as long as he approves of them. Brian and Toby often show up for those nights, they’re family too after all

But if the kid wants a family night with just them and dad, Tim makes sure that happens. #familyfirst

And if they make him bracelets he’s gonna fucking wear them. Doesn’t matter if they’re neon colors he��s wearing them. Just make sure they don’t get in the way of his work!

Honestly I see him getting his kid(s) matching lockets as like a family thing. He seems like the kind of guy to always wear it under all of his layers of clothes

[nekohime19]

Heart behind the lie # 31 : Past and future

We get Cheng backstory and some sweet moments

Cheng’s claws were hitting the edge of his desk in a soporific manner, Sun Wukong twitched at each grating sound, very much wanting to stop the other from making the noise. The sage knew he was being unfair, everything Cheng did seemed irritable in one way or another, and it wasn’t because the lord was horrible (even if he wasn’t the greatest), he knew it was only the jealousy speaking in his place. He remembered his master's teachings, “breathe, let your feelings go”, and discarded his anger, letting it pass like clouds swept away by the winds.

The peacock sighed, expression easing in something more contemplative, and slowly opened his beck.

“If you want to know who petrified those people, it is indeed me.” The sage felt the three kids tense in his back, each one of them reaching for their weapons ( or, in the Bull’s son case, preparing a fire casting spell). They were well-taught, if the sage wasn't fully focused on his so-called brother, he would be proud. “ I’m sure you heard it already, but I am cursed. It’s not a secret really. Me and the two other lords had been cursed by the same person. We do not know her name nor her face, only her voice, thick with a foreign accent. We suspect she comes from Greece, considering what she unleashed on me and the other two came from ancient Greek legends. She found each of us on different days, and saw a flaw in us, something vile that should be corrected. She claimed that I liked myself too much, that I was bewitched by my own reflection, as such she gave me stone eyes that would petrify anyone daring enough to look in my eyes, even myself. The Crow liked money too much, so she gave him hands that would turn anything he touched into gold. The Dove abused the trust others gave him because of his innocent appearance, so she gave him a lying mouth, unable to say the truth, unable to be trusted. She said that as long as we don't correct our ways, we will live in misery.” Cheng barked a laugh, his smile turning cruel at the edges. “Well she clearly miscalculated our stubbornness ! I do not care if I had to live in blindness, I found people to be my eyes, in return for their services I petrified their enemies . The Crow found people to be his hands, in return he gave the gold he created, he’s probably one of the richest people out there. The Dove found another way to talk, and became the best goddamn liar out there, even truth searching spells can’t expose him! I’m not ashamed of this garden, if I was I would have hidden it better, I simply don’t want my people to see those faces again. I could very well destroy the statues, but I think death is too sweet of a relief for them.”

“ Sooo, those statues were bad guys ?” Asked MK as he tilted his head, trying to make sense of the situation.

“It depends on the point of view, they were certainly not sweethearts though.” Scoffed the peacock as he crossed his arms.

“You’re not gonna petrify us then ?” Asked the dragon girl, her hand still hovering above her blade.

“Why would I do that? You’re my only hope for the throne.”

“Alright, sorry for jumping to conclusions.” Sighed the sage, shoulders lowering as the tension faded.

“It’s fine. As much as you are a handful, you’re also very entertaining, great sage.” Snickered the peacock, Sun Wukong’s eyebrow twitched angrily at that.

“This is exactly why you’re alway getting on my nerves.” Groaned the sage as he threw his arms above him.

“I guess brothers are meant to argue.” Laughed the bird with a teasing smirk.

“I am not even gonna comment on this.” Grumbled the King as he turned away, he left the room, the kids on his heels.

The sage walked without really knowing where to go, he considered going back to the library and see, once again, his moon but he didn’t want to appear desperate. And he wouldn’t know how to act around the other. Technically they both said that kisses were alright (for his great pleasure) but it didn’t make it less awkward. It felt good, of course, but it blurred the line between them. Sun Wukong knew they were friends, for now, and he was fine with it, knowing how unhealthy it would be to begin something while Macaque needed his magic to live, but he couldn’t help but yearn. Was he allowed to be jealous ? To voice his uncomfort? Was he allowed to acknowledge what was growing between them ? He was Macaque’s friend, and even if the title was meant to change, that was who he was to Macaque for now. 

Like always, this was something he should share with Macaque, but Sun Wukong wasn’t one for words. 

He had a lot to talk about with Macaque.

The rest of the days went fastly, Sun Wukong was guided to his room by one passing servant after asking where he should spend the night, and stayed there till dinner. The room, of course, was lavish, Sun Wukong was beginning to be used to the sight of finely carved gold. 

When the time for dinner came, the great sage was dragged to the dinner room by a pair of starved kids, and one less hasty fiery boy. They barged in his room and latched on him before he could even utter a word. He followed them easily, lured by the whiff of smeel he catched here and there on their path. 

The dinner table was even fuller than before, you couldn't even see a speck of wood underneath the plethora of plates. The group was already sitted, awaiting them patiently. The sage immediately went beside his moon, he sat on his right, ignoring the way the kids looked at him with knowing eyes. 

“Did you spend the whole day in the library?” Asked the sage. He tried to say it with leisure, but he couldn't help the nervous trill that escaped him. It wasn't something substantial, yet he saw Macaque ears shiver. 

“Yeah, it was… insightful.” Awkwardly chuckled the macaque, he smiled at the sage, perhaps to reassure him, but it came out more shaky than anything. Sun Wukong faltered a bit, not liking the tension between them. He understood why they were both on edge, their relationship was something unsure, unsaid. But understanding it didn't mean he liked it. He wondered if he should do something about it. If he should risk startling the macaque. There was still a part of him that feared Macaque's disappearance, that feared seeing him plunging in a flurry of shadows. It was irrational, for he knew the both of them weren't fleeing their feelings anymore, but still fear wasn't something he could erase so easily. 

The sage decided to push himself, to go beyond his fear. He tentatively brushed his tail against Macaque's own, the warrior flinched, but he brushed back. Sun Wukong shuddered and, not wanting to lose the pleasing thrill tickling his skin, he tried to loosely intertwine the tip of their tails. Macaque let it happen, not once turning away from the shy caress. It soothed something inside of the sage, even if Cheng stated that he didn't want to pursue Macaque, his appearance did make the sage doubt his place in Macaque's life. It was reassuring to have this, those bits of tenderness, it comforted him in the idea that there was something between the two of them. He wasn't imagining the affection they shared. 

Cheng didn't dine with them, apparently busy with other matters. The sage learned, after they began to eat, that the amount of food came from the chef cook off with the lord's cuisine. According to Tang, the cook off ended in a tie, both sides bounding over their love of Change (which explains the amount of mooncakes on the table, one of the goddess stellastar recipes). 

“You have your own plate, Noodle boy!”Groaned the fiery boy as he tried to push his mentee away. 

“Come on, Red, you can pick from mine!” Laughed the boy, he put one of his arms on the Bull's son's shoulders and dragged him closer. 

“That doesn’t make it better.” Sighed Red Son, cheeks ever so slightly red. The sage was glad to see his (kind of) nephew being good friends with his mentee, MK really had the power to melt even the coldest of hearts. 

Once they finished dinner, they all decided to heed to bed, the day had been particularly eventful after all. The sage promised to warn Sandy about their situation before going to sleep, the poor tea-lover would worry otherwise (Sun Wukong also wanted to take the opportunity to see his lil bud). 

The two monkeys watched as the others left the diner room, regaining their respectives chambers. Both didn't want to let go of the other yet, but neither knew how to voice this desire without being awkward, or without hinting at their feelings. 

“You…” The sage cleared his throat to ease his nerves. “Will you allow me to accompany you to your room, my good sir?”He chose humor, as always, to ease the both of them. Macaque immediately relaxed, his hold on Wukong's tail tightening ever so slightly. 

“You're dramatic.” Chuckled the warrior, he handed his arm to the King and Wukong, not one to ever deny being close to his moon, immediately linked both of their arms. The touch was light, but for them, who weren't used to one another after centuries of avoidance, it was burning. The sage would never cease being delighted by this, by having the chance to be at the other side, to link arms with him and kiss him. It felt like a well-crafted illusion at times, a dream, a product of his deepest desire. But yet he knew when he touched the other, that this was real, and it will keep being better and better. Not because they would never encounter difficulties, but because they chose to face them together, they chose to not flee. 

“Not as much as you, theater kid.” Snorted Sun Wukong, he relished in the way Macaque's nose crunched, a tell-tale sign of his amusement. They both walked in silence, enjoying the way their warmth mingled with each other. They slowed their steps, wanting to bask in the moment for as long as it was allowed. “Hey, you… wanna go see Sandy with me?” Asked the sage as he caught sight of Macaque's threshold in the distance. He knew that perhaps he was pushing it, but he couldn't help himself, it was painful to let go of the other when they were so close. 

“Well… Okay, why not.” Mumbled the warrior, his hold on the sage's arm never once wavering. Sun Wukong had to bite his mouth to hide the trills burning his lips, he stilled his heart (and his tail before it could sway with the macaque's own) and summoned his cloud with a wave of fingers. They struggle to step on it without letting go of the other, but they eventually manage. The sage flew themselves towards a window, and then took them to the sky. It didn't take long to reach the airship hidden behind waves of land, it was rather close, despite being unseen from the city.

They broke away from each other once on the ship, even if Sun Wukong would have liked being linked for a few more hours, he didn’t want to make the other uncomfortable. There was a silent agreement between them, something they both immediately thought of when they agreed to kiss (and perhaps be more intimate) without starting anything : to keep it between them. It would be complicated to explain everything, to answer the questions when they were both in uncharted territory. Intimacy, especially kisses, was to remain in-between them until they decided to begin anything serious. At least until one of them voiced any desire to be openly affectionate.

One of his clones and Sandy left the airship’s inside and walked on the deck, perhaps to see who landed there, they relaxed when they saw the two monkeys waving at them.

“It’s you, Boss. I thought it was an enemy.” Sighed his clone, his shoulders lowering as he realized he didn’t have to fight. “ You look really good by the way, Boss.”

“Yeah, yeah, no comment.” Mumbled the sage, not wanting to be teased in front of his moon. “We have quite a lot to tell you, so let’s head inside. Where is-”

“Sock is in the lounge room with the other clones. We were having a game of monopoly.” Cut his clone, already knowing what he would be asking without him voicing it.

“I’m glad to see you both. I was getting a bit worried when I saw the sky darken.” Chuckled the tea-lover as they went inside, guided by his skipping clone.

“Sorry, big guy. A lot happened.” Aplogized Macaque, he awkwardly scratched his neck and looked the other way, perhaps guilty to leave him behind each time they needed to find one of the lantern piece.

“Oh no, it’s alright Mister Mawkwaque. I had fun with the clones.” Wukong felt a chill tickling his back, he hoped the three gremlins wearing his face kept their mouths shut, but knowing them they probably did a whole presentation to explain his entire backstory to the tea-lover.

The two other clones were shamelessly laid on the couch, stealing some monopoly money from the two vacants seats around the table. Sock was curled up above Mo, both on the floor, using him as her personal bed. The two clones looked up when they heard them coming, they stopped stealing and waved at them as if they never dared to cheat.

“Guess all Wukongs have the urge to cheat.” Snickered the warrior as he threw a teasing glance at the sage, he was lucky to have such a cute smile otherwise Sun Wukong would have bitten back.

“What? We never cheated in our lives.” Huffed one of the clones laid on the couch, Macaque fondly rolled his eyes and leveled him with a tired, but affectionate, glare. The clone giggled (somethin airy that normally wouldn’t cross the lips of the great sage) and sighed dreamily, eyes softening at the warrior fond huff. Sun Wukong cleared his throat in a warning and the clone hid behind his peer, looking up at the sage with a nervous chuckle on his lips. The King was absolutely not jealous of himself, he just didn’t want to let those gremlins act out of line with his moon. 

They sat around the table (Sun Wukong made a point to sit in-between Macaque and his clones, said clones either snickered or rolled their eyes at his behavior.) Sandy, like always, served tea and snacks to the two monkeys. Sun Wukong nibbled on a peach biscuit, his tail quietly thumping the floor in joy each time he took a bite. He jolted when he felt someone play with his tail, he threw a glance back and cooed at the sight. His lil sage was pawing at his tail in curiosity, she meowed at him when she noticed his gaze. 

“Aww, I missed you.” Cooed the great sage, he took Sock in his arms and nuzzled her, burying his snout in her fur, taking in her familiar scent. Sock pawed at his face, perhaps a bit annoyed at being manhandled, but enjoyed the attention nevertheless. 

“It hasn't even been a day.” Snorted the macaque, a teasing smile blooming on his lips. 

“A day is a lot. Kinda wish I could take her in my pocket.” Mumbled the sage, he then put Sock in the warrior's face. “How can you not miss that cute face after not seeing it for a whole day!” Sock pawed at Macaque's snout (like always when she was put close to someone's face). Macaque barked a laugh and scratched under her chin, she meowed happily and leaned in the touch. Sun Wukong took her back after a bit and resumed his nuzzling, rubbing his cheek against her. 

“I don't think she enjoys being this smothered.” Pointed the warrior with a raised eyebrow. 

“Nah, she likes it.” Sock jumped out of his arms the second he said that. Sun Wukong whined but he didn't dare hold her back, she was always fussy when he held her for too long. Sock pawed his lap for a bit before settling on it, paws crossed and head held high like a lady from the Victorian era. Sun Wukong chuckled, endeared by the way she held herself, and scratched behind her ears (the place she liked most). 

“Aw, I wanted her to be with me.” Whined one of the clone, another patted his back in sympathy, muttering something about “OG rights.”

“So you two said you had a lot to talk about.” Began Sandy as he put his cup down, “a lot” was an understatement, Wukong felt like a billion things happened in this odd city. He didn't even know where to begin. 

“Well, for short, someone named Cheng has the piece. A lot of things happened, he kinda wanted to marry me at first? But then Wukong became his sworn brother, and now in exchange for the piece Wukong has to participate in some sort of festival and win.” It was a very shortened version of what happened. Sun Wukong sweatdropped at the way Macaque's omitted very important details. 

“MARRY YOU!?” Shouted one clone as he slammed his fist on the table. 

“Who is this bastard and where does he live?” Asked another with narrowed eyes, a dangerous glint swirling in his pupils. 

“We have a sworn brother?” Muttered the last clone. 

“When does this festival take place?” Asked the tea-lover, trying to subtly change the subject and hopefully not anger the clones further. The clones noticed what he was doing and threw a very instant glance at the sage, something that said “We'll talk later.” Sun Wukong sighed, but nodded at his copies either way, they wouldn't let that go even if he avoided them. 

“The festival takes place in one week.” Answered the warrior, unbothered by the murderous aura swirling above two of his clones, or perhaps pretending to not be bothered. 

“I see. Well, in any case I hope this festival will not be too difficult.”

“Don't worry big guy, I got this!” Assured the great sage with a puffed out chest. 

“Yep, our Boss is the strongest.” Added one clone, he draped himself over the King and gestured at his arms. “I mean look at those muscles.”

“Very strong.” Insisted another clone. 

“Strong like…can protect you and care about you, strong. Mate material.” Ended the last clone as he not so discreetly glanced at the warrior. Macaque raised an eyebrow and turned towards the sage with a small, shadowed smirk on the edge of his lips. Sun Wukong blushed, he pushed his clones away and glared at them. 

“Anyway, I can take you to the city, Sandy. We'll be staying there for a while after all.” Proposed the great sage, not wanting to leave the blue giant behind for so long. 

“Oh it's alright, me and the clones have fun here.” Replied the tea-lover, it was probably meant to be reassuring, but Sun Wukong was anything but reassured at the idea of leaving those three blabber mouths with the tea-lover.

 “Yeah, we even scheduled a movie night tonight!” Proudly declared one of his clones. 

“Ghibli night!” Added another. 

“You should stay with us.” Proposed the last clone, his eyes knowingly drifting towards the warrior. Sun Wukong narrowed his eyes, immediately suspicious, but he had to admit that spending the night here (at Macaque's side) sounded nice. 

“Well… why not…” Muttered the sage as he glanced at the warrior, Macaque put a claw on his chin (probably thinking about it) but ultimately nodded. 

“Yay! Let's prepare then, Boss help us with the snacks!” Ushered one of his clones as he stood up and waved the sage over. Sun Wukong followed him (delicately putting his lil bud aside), knowing very well what his copies truly wanted. 

“We didn't finish the game.” Whined another clone as the last one dragged him to the kitchen. 

“Doesn't matter. I was winning anyway.” Huffed the clone dragging him. 

“You were in prison!?” Raged the reluctant clone, outraged. 

“Yes, but I was rich.” 

“Come on, guys. Stop bickering.” Groaned the clone in the front as he pushed them all in the kitchen. They all stumbled in the space, glaring at the clones that pushed them once they steadied themselves. 

“You guys have no discretion.” Sighed the sage as he rubbed his forehead. 

“Blame yourself for that Boss. We're you.” Replied the clone that pushed them inside, he closed the door and turned towards the King with fiery eyes. “So what was that about a guy wanting to marry Macaque?”

“Name's Cheng. He needed a partner or whatever and chose Mac. We found another solution to avoid the marriage, and so I'm his sworn brother.” Curtly explained the King as he leaned in the countertop, arms crossed. 

“Sooo… He’s not a love rival? He was only interested for business,right? ” Concluded one of the clones. At the sage's silence they all began to panic. “RIGHT?”

“Well… he was chummy with him, but he said it's only because he's a fan of shadow…”

“You can't trust the guy that easily, Boss!”Groaned one of the clones. “The world is full of evil people.”

“I say you stay with Mac, if the guy sees the both of you being close he's gonna give up.”

“Speaking of that, any progress with Mac?” Asked one of the clones with a hint of a sly smirk. 

“Well… we… we kissed a bit…” Shyly muttered the sage as he twirled one of his strands around his fingers, cheeks reddening. 

“Damn, you both are growing up so fast. Feels like yesterday when we were pining over him.” 

“Remember when we pretended to be drunk after the brotherhood fests just so he could pick us up?”

“Good old days.” Laughed the last clone as he rummaged through the cupboards and pulled out various snacks. “Let's go, they'll be suspicious if we take too long.”

“We're already suspicious.” Grumbled the sage as he took some of the snacks. 

They settled comfortably before the TV once they came back, of course Sun Wukong sat beside the warrior, shoulders brushing against his, tails almost intertwining. The movie the clones chose was quite entertaining, something above a moving castle. Sun Wukong had to admit he did get a bit sentimental towards the end, tear nipping at his eyes. 

“You alright, there?” Chuckled the macaque, his breath tickling the sage's ear. 

“Yeah, everything fine.” Replied the King, Macaque threw a glance behind him, before looking back at him with an amused glint in his gaze. Sun Wukong furrowed his eyebrows and looked behind, he groaned when he caught sight of his three clones, all coddled around the lil sage as they cried their eyes out.”They're… more sensible than me.” Poorly explained the sage. 

“Yeah, I'm gonna believe that for now, for your pride.” Snorted the warrior, he hovered a bit above the sage's ear, strangely hesitant, before putting his head on the King's shoulder. Sun Wukong startled, but quickly melted against the other. Putting his own head against Macaque's. They quickly fell asleep, tails curling around one another in their quiet slumber. 

Ch1 /Previous /Next

[scintillatingshortgirl19]

Misc thoughts I wrote down as I watched tonight's episode:

COLINNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!

Will babe you're 25 and you didn't know about CDs???

JAMIE GETTING WORDS RIGHT I'M SO FUCKING PROUD OF HIM

(this is especially satisfying bc Beard, much as I love him, was being an absolute bitch to jamie just now)

everybody is being so goddamn condescending i stg if my boy doesn't end up being the one in the right re: zava by the end...

oh passage of time mid-episode, interesting

Ohhhhhh shit he's Ted and Michelle's old counselor...yikes

"Pal" "wingman" oof closeted Colin is hurting my heart

WHERE TF IS MY BOY did he come to the restaurant??

Oh no there he is :(

I am incredibly excited for the training oh my god

I have a feeling I'm going to have a lot more to say about the roy and Jamie restaurant convo but tbh I have not fully processed that scene yet. i just know it was good.

Also I'm holding out hope for Jamie to still be right about Zava...things are going so well obviously something bad's gonna happen

oh NOT this motherfucker telling Sam what to serve in HIS restaurant...bro...

GASP

No keeley and jamie hug :( I'm actually a bit concerned that that moment from the trailer was a deleted scene and we'll never get to see it. Will they have Jamie repeat an outfit in a future episode?? I sure hope so . . . i need to see my boy get hugged!!

oh wait I looked at the trailer clip again and it's the white hoodie but with a white vest (aka one of the same pieces but overall different outfit) so hopefully we're good and the hug just happens later (honestly idk when jamie and keeley would've hugged in this episode storyline-wise so the deleted scene thing doesn't really make sense anyway. ok i think we're good glad i talked myself through that lmao)

[mdverse]

md's fun silly little top 10(ish) arts of the 2023!*

*pretend there's a fun cute doodled banner here (i was going to make one earlier and then i forgor)

doing a lil recap of my top 10 15 (it was supposed to be 10 and i could not narrow it down oops) best(? this is subjective as fuck i guess it's more like my personal faves) drawings of the year! *the crowd cheers* (it’s me I’m the crowd)

15: paradise by the dashboard light! i hate to rank her so low bc i spent ages on her but it seems i don't love the result that much anymore so :/ a for effort for me tho this was ambitious

14: cheer girl loml <33 not my best art technically by far but i went way out of my comfort zone for the background and the art style (for no good reason really) (i just wanted to do a comic book thing bc superhero vibes or whatever) (it did not come out the way i was hoping it would bc i think i got too frustrated) and we simply must acknowledge that. atog did things to me that i cannot explain

13: barbie meme brittana! not my best britt but truly sooo fun to work on. there's nothing quite like finding a fun rendering process and then never using it again (i don't even remember how i coloured this but i like it)

12: cowboy barbie brittana <3 they look good, they're about to kiss, cute outfits, pretty sunset, probably went overboard with the rim lighting, what's not to love? a banger, i think

11: i say a little prayer! i think the background is. questionable at best. but this is still really fun! i think i got possessed when i got to the uniforms bc goddamn they look good

10: klaine?? on this blog???? almost unheard of lmao i truly did not think i would like this one as much as i did. i'd consider ranking it higher if i wasn't constantly Unwell over brittana but again, i'm biased, and no one here should be surprised about that

9: pre-wedding kiss my beloved! with how insane i've been over this kiss it could perhaps be higher. i am gnawing on my desk as we speak i'm not even sitting at a desk rn

8: rutherchang x black swan!! ohhh u guys i don't talk about this one enough i think it's so pretty i don't even remember how i did the colours for it but rhgfdkngd?? love her, love pushing the glee x bts agenda, if any of u gifmakers are interested in making a mike chang x black swan lyric gifset i will love u forever

7: colour wheel challenge! busted my whole tiddies and ass for this one fellas. labour of love etc etc i think staring at the bright colours for so long made my eyesight worse and i'm ok with that

6: mistletoe brittana <33 easily the best instalment of this series by a long shot! recency bias (and also just. regular bias) made me rank her much higher originally but technically she is not the most intricate piece so she must sit down here

5: prom queen kurt! dare i say a girlslay on my behalf? i think i dare. every time i see it i think i should do more glosters (glee posters) and then i don't. i could tho they would be really cool (source: dude trust me)

4: churro kiss redraw!!! genuinely Not Sane over this! never have been, never will be! redraws are like crack to me and so is this kiss

3: furtana!! i neglected them for far too long this year but if neglecting them results in art like this i may have to do it again

2: heart kiss <3 if we're being really honest and vulnerable in the chat tonight i think this is technically my best of the brittana kiss screencap redraw things i've done this year? which i did not see coming but i guess practice means refining the process etc etc so. it makes sense ig. mwah to them <3

1: black or white gcv animation <3 it's not what i would call my best drawing (bc it's, yknow, not just one drawing) but it is what i would call the product of a very obsessive thought and some frantic art sessions. objectively it's the coolest thing i've done this year so it deserves the top spot. i'm proud of it i hope to glanimate more next year. also this isn't art but it's a relevant post that i still stand by months later

[2hopatz]

ONLY - Park Seonghwa

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Heartbreak, Making out, Crying, Cursing, Mentions of Alcohol and Alchohol Consumption, Sickeningly Sweet Fluff Word Count: 4.9K+ Pairing: p. sh x gender non-specified reader (a/n): It is 6:54am, and I have finally found the time to finish this fic. There is a discrepancy in my final grade for one class (heavy pissed sighing being heard from me insert here) but other than that my classes are done. I kinda fucked up last semester (freshman year semester one after a gap year is hard) but I made all As this semester!! I'm very proud of myself :)). Anyway!! I hope you guys enjoy this barely proofread Seonghwa fic. I am... not fond of this one. I feel I could do better, but it won't ever get uploaded if I keep backtracking. It is based on ONLY - LeeHi and is part of my playlist series. Enjoy~ Mwah!

For all the reasons you tried to come up with, you didn’t know why you went to the top of the building that night. The pressure mounting from your new internship, the drive to make it in a society that didn’t want you to. There were reasons upon reasons why you could have gone to the top of the building that night, but none of those were it. Something just pulled you in.

…

You swear that within the last ten minutes, the music within the party had become unbearably loud. Colors swim across your vision, all too bright, the bodies dancing around you all too warm. The brush of their skin, the touch of their clothing. It is all too much. You had tried calling to your friend Michael, yelling over the all-too-loud thumping that you needed to leave, but he was too preoccupied with the girl he was chatting up to even hear. All you know is that you need to get out, your thoughts getting all too fast and all too dark. 

‘I’m going to rip my fucking ear drums out. I can’t breathe, it’s too hot. I can’t breathe. My skin itches.’

Your breath gets heavier as you push through the crowd, tears pricking in your eyes. You don’t want to be like this, not tonight. Fun was the only thing you are supposed to be filled with, not fear. Despite all that, a refuge is the only thing you seek. 

‘I can’t get anywhere like this. I want to cry, I want to scream. I need somewhere quiet now.’ 

Then, like some form of magic or karma, a staircase appears. Your hands tremble as you step forward, gripping the railing for dear life. You are about to be free. 

‘I’ll text Michael when I calm down, I don’t want him to worry. Hell, it would be good for both of us if he finally got a goddamn date.’

In the midst of chaos, you clamber up the stairs and through a doorway, the night enveloping you in its cool embrace. You feel your panic waning almost immediately, the night around you calming your senses slowly but surely. Here you are safe, if only for a while. 

“Excuse me, I didn’t think there was anyone else up here.”

A voice cooed behind you, sultry and smooth compared to the crisp chillness in the air. Panic pulses through you again as you jump with a gasp. 

“Fucking hell dude. Holy shit, you scared me.”

“Sorry! I should have announced myself a bit better,” The stranger is sitting his glass down on the small table outside, before bowing his head politely in embarrassment. He was cute, with mid-length black hair framing his doe eyes. 

‘He’s really cute…’ you think to yourself, slowly eyeing his face, tilting your head in curiosity, before snapping out of it.

“It’s ok! Really! I just came up here to get away. It’s so noisy down there, I wanted to give myself a break.”

“This really isn’t the place for someone who likes the quiet.” The stranger smiles softly as he speaks, an airy laugh following after as he leans against the railing of the roof. Your laughter follows before your eyes are drawn toward the skyline of the city laid bare before you. You were so caught up in the panic that you hadn’t noticed how pretty it was right before you. Despite that, the goosebumps on your skin wouldn’t leave unless the panic in your heart did. 

‘Maybe if I ignore it long enough it will leave.’

“Damn…” you breathed out, smiling, “ what a roof!” The pretty man laughed behind you. 

“Quite the sight, I must say,” he is sauntering up beside you, and you realize just how tall he is. 

“Is there something on my face?” he asks tilting his head down with furrowed brows. 

“You’re pretty. That’s all. Super pretty, model pretty. I love your makeup.” You respond with a smile before turning back to view the city. You hear him cough beside you, catching a glimpse of his ears slowly turning red. His hand reaches up, covering the pink of his lips as he clears his throat. Your smile widens a bit, and your heart slows slightly as you calm down.

‘Quite easily flusterable,’ you think as you ponder what would happen if you compliment him more. A comfortable silence settles over the two of you, and you wonder when he got so close to you. He is warm and smells like vanilla and caramel; you considered whether it would be creepy to ask him what cologne he wears.

“You’re pretty too. Beautiful. Honestly.” He stands straighter, still looking out over the city. A compliment from him felt like skipping through a field of tulips, and heat rushes to your cheeks.

“Thank you… sir?” You ask awkwardly, looking up at him with expectant eyes. His head snaps toward you, shock morphing to amusement as he lets out a series of high-pitched giggles, silent ones following. As if instinctual, your own lips curl into a smile. 

“Sir?”

“Sir.” You respond grinning mischievously up at the man.

“Ok, your majesty.” He responds with a bow, before doubling over again with laughter, “Wooyoung always jokes that I look too old.”

“Not old. Professional,” Your eyes squint up at him as you nod with a coy smile, “ Your majesty is a bit over the top, don’t you think? The only thing I rule over is a beat-up Honda Civic.” His eyes glow as he laughs, and it is almost as if the reflections in the earthy browns of his iris were coming from within him. 

‘Maybe there’s a whole universe in there.’ you joked silently. A soft gasp broke you out of your trance as he looks down at nothing at all, his neck was a bit pink now. The silence now was awkward, the previous moment having nothing to replace its absence. Restless, your feet shifted, the sound of a stuttering two-step filling the silence. He looks at you through his lashes, fighting a smile. 

“If you wanted to dance, downstairs would have been the perfect dance floor.”

“Too loud. I would have jumped off this balcony before the beat even dropped,” You relish in his high-pitched laugh again, you let it steep like tea and honey, “why’d you come up here?”

“The club is fun… but not after 4 consecutive hours of it.”

“4 is fucking mental.” His eyes crease with laughter at your comment.

“Fucking insane, right? My friends are fond of a good party. A little too fond.” The conversation continues naturally for the next few minutes as you chronicle your journey to the club thus far. He laughs at your exasperation as you outline how Michael had dragged you here to get a date, or at least to get laid. He responds with the story of his own night, saying his friends San and Mingi brought him here, but he stayed so long against his will. You notice his gaze soften when you laugh, and he sighs. The city thrums with life as you both stare back out at it, mesmerized by lights, relaxing in each other’s presence.

“It’s like a little galaxy, isn’t it? Impossibly many people, meeting in impossibly many places,” you whisper, enjoying the breeze that blows by, despite it carrying the smell of smog.

“I suppose. There’s a chance of meeting so many people, taking advantage of so many opportunities.”

“A city wrapped up in fate.”

“Or chance.” his voice carries softly on the wind, and you could tell he has turned to look at you. He scoots to stand closer, and your arms brush softly, barely noticeable. Still, excitement overtakes you, and it takes hold of your heart before leaping into your throat. His eyes shine as you meet his gaze, his lips looking even softer than his voice sounds. 

“What are the chances that we’ll meet again after this?”

“Little to none.” he glanced at your lips as he said it, licking his lips unconsciously.

“Well then, we’d better make it last.” You sighed and smiled softly at him, walking to the table and pulling out your phone. 

“I don’t have my phone with me. It broke yesterday. I don’t even have anything to write with.” Regret laced his voice as he pouted lightly. He may kill you with that smile and that voice, and you’ve just met the man. 

“Then let’s just dance. The night is young, and so are we!” you smile with a flourish of your hand, beckoning him closer, music spilling from your phone speaker. He pauses slightly, and his eyes widen. Despite that, the next thing you feel was his arms around you. A warmth seeps into you, filling your soul with pure light. He feels like a lazy Sunday morning, like coffee on the stove, like the light spilling onto the floor. Every rigid muscle, every stressful thought melted till nothing was left, not even the puddle. For a moment, a flash in time, everything feels perfect.

Then, he starts to sway, leading you into a soft lull of hips, feet, and hands. Every piece of common sense flies out of the window, and you revel in the way his heart pounds in response to yours. You delight in the way he shudders every time your breath hits his neck. You hope he basks in you the same way, hopes he feels the way your thumbs stroke his arm and back, the way you can’t seem to do anything but smile.

You are one song in when his hands move from your waist to your hips, two when they lock behind your lower back. Three songs in when the space between you has been reduced to atoms, and four when the world starts to disappear. Everything is moving so fast, so why are you confident that this is where you belong? Right here in his arms, his lips ghosting over your forehead, hands pulling you further into his charm. You stumble as he starts to spin, and he catches you, needy hands pulling you back with no hesitation. You feel wobbly.

“Just like that. You’re doing so well.” He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, a lush pink highlighting his high cheekbones, and a dam breaks within you as you look back up at him, into the universe behind his eyes. 

“Kiss me at least once before you leave.” It comes out as almost a plea.

“I’ll need more than that.”

“Then be greedy with me. Take as many as you want, give me all your affection. I want to be greedy with you too.”

“You don’t even know my name.” he was whispering against your lips now, “am I crazy to want you?”

“If you’re crazy, I should be locked up in a straight jacket.” Your smile is breathtaking to him, and he willingly gives you his heart at that moment, followed by his lips. Over and over again, his lips meet yours every kiss birthing a new star in the galaxies behind his eyes. Every map has led to you, every star guided him here. The deepest depths of the ocean, the inside of a black hole, everything marvelous in this world he finds in the repetition of your lips finding his. This wasn’t smart, hell he doesn’t even know you. As your lips meld to his once more, your breath fanning over his lips, he decides that not everything has a logical explanation. Maybe, the best things were miracles, or like you said, fate. Maybe if he whispers his name onto your lips, he can claim them as his forever, because you’ve already claimed his.

His breath is starting to leave him in huffs as you toy with his hair, and he kisses you so hard that you lean back feeling his hands keep you balanced. If the music was playing you could no longer hear it, his sighs being a symphony in itself. Still, as much as you wanted to breathe him in, you needed oxygen. So, you pulled back to catch the breath that he has stolen from you. His eyes are still closed, and he chases your lips with an airy, frustrated whine. He is making your head spin, but the only place you can ground yourself is in his arms. What a predicament he had placed you in. One night and he already had you imagining a future being his partner. You go in for another kiss, the alcohol still evident on your breaths swirling together, when the door bursts open to reveal two men, one obviously drunker than the other, calling out a name. 

“SEONGHWAAA~” the shorter one sings, before falling on the shoulder of the other man. The man in your arms jumped in surprise, before groaning softly.

“Is that your name? Seonghwa. I love it. Just as pretty as you, sir.” You said softly, and you think that if someone told you that his name meant Heaven, you would believe it. He smiles softly, before turning to the man who shouted, seemingly annoyed. 

“San. I’m busy. Mingi can’t you-” 

“Nope, Hongjoong just called and he is pissed. Something about a case you should be working on with him.” The taller man states, slightly struggling with the affectionate man trying to hug him and Seonghwa at the same time.

“Holy shit! I forgot about that completely!” 

“You better haul ass!” The taller man, Mingi you gather, walks up and starts to pull him down the stairs, “Watching San alone has been hard enough I don’t need Hongjoong on my ass too!”

“Wait I-” Seonghwa looks toward you desperately, searching for something, anything to tell you where to find him, or contact him at least. He sees you reach toward him, something like sadness and panic in your eyes before the door closes. He feels something inside him break, as he is pulled into the crowd and away from your sight. 

…

You’re there again the next night, and the next, leaving Michael every night despite his complaints and heading straight for the roof of the building where the same beautiful cityscape lays itself bare in front of you. Despite that, tonight you can’t rest, your eyes darting from your phone, back to the door, and then to the sky above. Tonight is the third night in a row you’ve come back since you met him.

“It would be so much prettier if I was with you… Seonghwa…” You feel like a fool, letting his name fall off your lips like morning dew off of a leaf. He probably isn’t even thinking of you anymore, but there is something that denies that burning within you. Sure, you two had made out, but it was more than the heat of the moment. It wasn’t just lust. You had never been so consumed entirely by anyone, especially in just one night. You could only think of his name, his smile.  

“I’m being so irrational, always following my heart places I know I shouldn’t go,” you gripped the edge of the wall you lean against, tears brimming in your eyes, “fuck. Fuck I hate this. I don’t want to feel this anymore. I wish I’d never-” 

You trail off feeling that you’ve said enough, not wanting to let the next thought finish. You knew you were being impulsive, saying things that you didn’t mean. But you thought, you swore that he would come back for you.

‘It’s the third night. That tall guy… Mingi was it? Said he had a case to work on. Maybe he is just busy…’ you were trying to reason with yourself, to justify your behavior. You’d never been this needy with any of your partners. It had been days though, and with every day your faith waned and waned. You sighed, wiping your eyes carefully so as not to let Michael know you had been crying over a man you danced with once. You checked your phone, reading that it was 12:03am, and you groaned loudly at the thought of leaving in order to be awake for work the very same morning. Another night was coming to a close without him seeking you out, another night of you feeling like a fool. 

You open the door, weaving through the crowd to find Michael at the bar chatting up a couple that looked mildly enamored with him; you pull him by his scruff and drag his tipsy self out of the club. Ignoring his complaints as you escorted him to the car, you get into the driver’s seat with a little more attitude than you had intended. 

“Me being drunk just cannooot be making you this angry babe.” He whines, leaning over to try and hug you, a drunken smile on his face.

“Sit your ass back, we’re going home.” you sound more upset than playful, and he pouts like a hurt puppy, groaning about how mean you were being to him. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out so harshly.”

“It’s cool… he didn’t come again?” Silence freezes the air, the car becoming too stifling and making you shift uncomfortably, “That asshole.” You sigh softly at his statement before starting the car, pausing to look around just one more time, before pulling off. 

“Let’s come again tomorrow.”

“...”

“Maybe you’ll see that cute couple again, hm?” He turns away from you, upset at your persistence to get your heart broken, and all you can do is ache, knowing just how right he might be.

…

His friend was late.

He is going to search for, possibly, probably, the love of his entire life. And his friend had the audacity to be late.

“Yo, I apologized already, you know my boss likes to hold me up after work,” Hongjoong whines, poking a very angry Seonghwa on his arm. 

“Your boss is my boss Joong, we work together.” 

“Seonghwa~”

“...”

“Seonghwa~”

“Christ, Hongjoong what is it?” the older male snaps, pulling into the parking space that miraculously appears outside of the club. 

‘Didn’t even have to search. Maybe luck… or whatever is on my side tonight,’ he thinks. some relief flooding over him.

“Are we really clubbing tonight because of that person you met on the roof literal days ago? Have you always been this soft Park Seonghwa?” 

“Shut up,” Seonghwa sneers from the driver’s seat, and Hongjoong responds with a wounded swoon, “So damn dramatic.”

“But seriously Hwa, be so deadass with me right now. Was I right?” Hongjoong turned to look at his closest friend. Sure Seonghwa had a tendency to fall for people and fall hard at that, but he had never seen the man so desperate about it. Seonghwa had pestered him for 2 days about coming to this club with him to search for ‘the soulmate he met on the roof’. Tonight, on the third night Seonghwa decided to beg for Hongjoong’s company, they finally had a break from reading case files; so here he was, dragged to the club on his only night off in weeks. All for a person Seonghwa had met here four days ago.

“Just this once. Deal?” Hongjoong groaned in response slumping out of the car and slamming the door. Seonghwa waited inside the car for a response, and smiled giddily when Hongjoong told him to, ‘’move his lovesick ass.”

By the time Seonghwa made it to the stairs, Hongjoong had already gotten caught up by the promise of free shots at the bar. Hauling ass up the stairs, he basically bursts onto the roof, breaths leaving him and short huffs. He ignored the city lights as he turned frantically, looking only for you. 

His breath hitched when he found you weren’t there, and he tried his best not to let himself cry yet. Of course you weren’t, it was one night days ago. He slumped against the wall, head in his hands as he uttered a chorus of “no”s. He feels as if his heart is spilling onto the pavement, the image of you, the sound of your voice, invading his senses. He just had to wait, after all the night was young for clubbers. He walked to the balcony, turning away from the city and facing the door. All he had to do was wait for you here, and he begged the universe, god, or anyone listening to meet you again tonight. Every second passing had him losing even more hope, the minutes he had been up there for seeming like hours. He stops to check the time, and his watch reads 12:15am.  

…

“Weeks, friend. It’s been weeks since you met him on the roof.” Michael sat on the edge of your desk trying to talk some sense into you as you scoured the internet for a trace of the man you met. 

“You just don’t get it, Michael. I don’t even get it, I-” you sighed, negative emotions flooding you as you remember what he said. 

‘Little to none.’ 

“C’mon, it was one night. You’ve never been this romantic with anyone before. Is he really important enough for this?” He gestures to your room, shiny clothing scattered on the ground from going to the club every night and waiting on the roof, watching with each passing day how the starry city lights stretch farther and farther away. You sigh, a sob wracking through your frame, and Michael wraps his arm around you squeezing you tightly. He has never seen you like this, not even with the people you’ve dated. To be frank, it pisses him off that this ‘Seonghwa’ person didn’t seem to be searching for you, evident by your recent roof escapades. 

“I know, it’s stupid. It’s insane, and maybe he doesn’t even remember me. Maybe I should be going to work instead of sitting in a beautiful outfit all by myself. But that wasn’t a regular makeout session and dip,” you bury yourself in Michael’s shoulder as the night replays over and over in your head, infinitely many times, “I’m telling you, if I don’t find him, I’ll never have anything like that again.”

Michael sighs before sitting up with a groan, “One more fucking night. That’s it. After tonight you pick up at work regularly again, you get your ass together, and you can cry with me and the gang after work every day, ‘cause life sucks and so does love. Just one more chance, and you move on. Deal?”

You sniff, the thought of giving up killing you, despite you knowing he was right.

“Deal.”

…

Seonghwa hasn’t been doing any better. As much as Hongjoong likes to work, this was too much. Seonghwa has been reading casefiles for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. When he wasn’t slaving over files, he was frantically cleaning the apartment they shared. Hongjoong had seen Seonghwa at his worst, mere child’s play compared to… this.

“If you don’t eat you’ll literally keel over and fucking die. I’m not cleaning piss and blood out of the carpet because you refuse to replenish your calories Hwa.”

“Later, gotta finish this file. Then clean the office.”  Seonghwa’s eyes carried heavy bags under them as his leg bounced under the table. Even Hongjoong noticed the light in his eyes seemed to be diminished. As much as he cared for his friend, this behavior was frustrating him to no end. 

“How about, you get your ass up, eat, sleep, and do normal human being things, huh?”

“Disrespectful.”

“Pathetic, depressing, sleep-deprived, and overworked.” Despite the annoyance Seonghwa felt towards Hongjoong, he knows he is right. Seonghwa had thrown himself into busy work since that night two weeks back, and everyone in the office had noticed. He had waited till the bar workers had told him they were closing and would have waited even longer if he could. It tore him up inside, keeping him awake on the nights when he hadn’t worked himself to exhaustion. He had given into the hopelessness, after all, what were the chances of him meeting you again anyway?

“If I stop, I think about them Hongjoong. I’ve never hurt like this before, it’s debilitating. I’m terrified.”

“Of what?”

“That they were the love of my life. That I should have gotten there sooner or waited for them longer. I’m terrified of how emotional I am over a person I probably would have never met otherwise.”

“Then look for them, instead of killing yourself with work,” Hongjoong’s hand was soft on Seonghwa’s back, “Go back, just one more night. You’ve only tried once, who knows what could happen?”

“It’s useless, what are the chances? What if they don’t even feel the same? What if it was all a fling, and I am the idiot who fell in love with a stranger? I couldn’t take that.”

“You can’t take this either, you can’t keep living with what-ifs. They could be looking for you right now, you could be sitting here working your life away and losing them little by little. There’s no harm in trying.” Hongjoong had his hand wrapped around Seonghwa’s waist in a side hug as Seonghwa finally broke down and cried since the last time he came home from the club. 

“Just one more try,” Hongjoong cooed, leading Seonghwa to his room and telling him to get dressed up, helping to style him appropriately, “you’ve got a soulmate to find after all.”

…

The club pulls you in for the nth time in the past few weeks, yet nothing could work to fill the hole inside your stomach. Knotting your hands together, you think of what will probably come to pass tonight, just like all the others. Another night with no one but the city to keep you company, ascending the stairs with hope, and descending them with nothing but heartbreak. You were a fool, a fool to have come up those stairs, a fool to have fallen in love with a ghost. A percentage. You fell in love with chance, and now you were dealing with the consequences of you losing. Infinitely many people, in infinitely many places, and none of them containing you and him together. You sighed, tears manifesting again with no regard for your makeup, and you head up the stairs for the last time before you try to move on. The night air is a chill rush when you open the door, and you angle your head down to protect your eyes from the wind.

“Damn… what a roof,” The voice is familiar, strained, and shaky, but warm nonetheless. You jolt out of your stance, immediately looking up to see him. You are met with the face of the man you learned to love in one night. One glance and it feels as if your heart has learned to beat again. You breathe him in, and you are alive. His face is alight with joy and shock. He rushes to you first, holding you to him without hesitation, his heart roaring out loudly against your ear. Your lips meet and there you are again, cuddled up in the sheets of his being, relishing in the bliss of his galaxies. He is insatiable, and his lips find their way to yours over and over and over again, his heart exploding with love for only you. You are a book he wants to read from cover to cover, over and over again until the world ends. He is the tinder and you are the spark, both needing each other to create light. 

His lips trail past yours and slide down your jaw as you sigh out, before quietly whispering your name in his ear. It drips from his mouth, and every utter of it is a big bang, universes being created and recreated over and over again between you. What use were the stars when saying your name created life in him, what use were elements when your being contained the answer to the unknown? Your name became his mantra as he pulled you closer, lips burning a course from your neck to your jaw and back. Everything he could never explain lay in that name, it was a prayer, a show of gratitude, proof of his guilt and sorrow. 

“Seonghwa.” When he hears his name fall from your lips, broken and needy; he weeps. His head falls to your shoulder, arms refusing to let you go. The universe and the divine reunite when he kisses your lips again. 

“I want to drown in you for the rest of time.” he sighs as his lips ghost just under your ear.

“I wouldn’t let you drown, love.” His knees buckle at the term of endearment; nothing can prepare him for the things you say and do, but he had all the time in the world to figure out a way to respond.

“I love you, I love you,” it falls from his mouth with ease, and he repeats it with every caress of his lips against your skin. “Say that I’m yours.” he pleads with you, his hands grabbing at your waist in desperation, his thrumb roving over your outfit eager to feel the skin underneath. 

“Your mine, from now to the end of time.” 

This time when he kisses you, he whispers his name on your lips and claims them as his, making sure no one else can ever have them, and he relishes in the way you do the same. He bathes in the feeling of being the one who gets to say he loves you. Still, he asks one more question, wanting to make the impermanent permanent. 

“Be my only one?”

[siereads]

Celestial Monsters Review Notes

Notes under a read more due to spoilers

I'm so mad at Xio. HE COULD HAVE MADE A CHOICE. HE HAD FRIENDS. TEO AND NIYA WOULD HAVE MADE THINGS WORK. Gonna shake that kid until he sees he's been manipulated because holy hell. Mala Suerte may not being his biological father, but he's still his *Dad* dammit.

Huemac being proud of Teo does not shock me. That mans KNEW Teo wasn't capable of killing.

Teo: it's the end of the world. My dumbass: as we know it! And I feel fiiiiine! While Niya rants about wanting to beat Xio to a pulp

Aurelio's older sister, Brilla, is baby and I love her. The actual compassion, gentleness, reassurance, and support she showed Teo, Aurelio, and Niya was very much needed. Teo also needed to be told by someone that had been in his position that he had done the brave thing.

Xio, you're a dumbass. Baby boy, they is using you, wake up and smell the shit. Also, what y'all are doing to Dezi and Marino especially is cruel beyond measure.

Auristela, please, baby girl, shut your goddamn mouth.

Xio out here testing my patience. I know he's fictional and a child but good gods is he testing my goddamn patience.

Oooh we love a good, hastily abandoned, creepy ass town after a sleep over in the creepy ass desert cabin.

Teo, now is NOT the time to be horny.

I feel like, at this point, Teo just needs a tattoo across his forehead that reads "The Plan Guy"

Niya needing reminded who she's the daughter of and what her skills are is exactly why Teo is The Plan Guy xD You go girl, beat the fuck out of those sentient rocks.

Niya: I've changed my mind about helping people. I don't like them anymore

Me: Girl, same.

Niya breaking down sobbing because she doesn't think she's strong enough to pull off this mission is making my heart hurt. Someone give this sweet angel baby a soft, fuzzy blanket, a warm cookie, and a hug jfc.

Also. I do appreciate the reminders that these kids are just that, kids.

Just got me over here singing that Xio is a dick. I'm hoping someone slaps some sense into that kid. Like goddamn.

Teo, sweetie, stop getting so defensive. Being underestimated isn't always a bad thing in the literal end of the world.

Niya is the most ADHD coded little shit and like, dammit, mood. I too would have been playing with the good luck charms because ooh smooth and make click clack sound.

Mala Suerte is giving Giles with his shade. I am so fucking here for it.

This mans is fighting for his life talking to these dense ass children and I just...oh Mala Suerte, you poor, poor, sweet, scary man. May peace find you because otherwise you'll be stuck with these three morons for another 6 hours.

He tried so damn hard for Xio. Tried to protect that baby and raise him with love. Even now he still has hope for his son. Xio might not be his blood, but he damn sure is Suerte's kid.

I'm glad the trio got a glimpse into who Suerte really is as a person and how much care the man has. He deserves to be seen for the complete person he is instead of just the assumptions everyone else puts on him.

Oof. Just...oof. Xio, baby, you feel like shit because you know what you did was wrong. It's why Teo's voice is still in your head like a weird Jimminy Cricket. Baby. You are being MANIPULATED. Venganza does not care about you beyond what he can use you for.

Boys. Boys, now is NOT the time to flirt.

I love gay panic

Okay, who are you feral jungle child and how did you know the big scary monster that mimics crying babies wanted to play fetch? Am *I* hallucinating? What the actual fuck?

How did all of the gods miss a whole ass village out by Los Restos? One of the trials was literally just held out there. How do you miss a whole ass collection of people????

This is def making me think there's a lot more that went down with the OG war against the Obsidians. We're def missing pieces here.

Xio getting called tf out! Which needed to happen cuz damn. Hopefully this is the tipping point?

Xio having a crisis of gender in the middle of the apocalypse they set off is genuinely hilarious because, fucking hell, what a goddamn mood.

But also, Xochi calling Xio and Atzi out like "we get it, y'all *like* eachother" is equally fucking funny.

I. Love. Atzi. She is BABY. Telling Xio to their face that they're only a monster if they chose to be and she just thinks they're lost right now? Sweet, precious, angel baby.

She right tho.

Seeing how this little village deals with "monsters" and being told they're just animals was def something the trio needed. Plus, I really love Paz and her patience in explaining it all to them

I hate how much Lumbre has destroyed Aurelio's sense of self worth. Abusive ass bitch.

WE GOT SMOOCHES!!!!!!!! Awkwardly clumsy smooches BUT STILL SMOOCHES

Niya bouncing back from her breakdown over Xio's betrayal to tease Teo about kissing Aurelio is why, once again, I'm reminded that she's my literal favorite.

Stela needs to learn to keep her mouth SHUT and Xio needs to wake up and smell the bullshit.

Me: anxiously waiting for Xio and their dad's monster to show up and attack the trio.

Xio: -pops up-

Me: Shit

-squints suspiciously at Xio- I can't tell if they're genuinely trying to give warning and help or if this is a trap. Please for the love of fucking everything let it be genuine.

XIO, MY BABY, YOU'VE COME BACK TO US!!! YOU'VE COME TO YOUR GODDAMN SENSES!!

Also, not at all shocked that 1. the owl witch's weakness was salt because, ya know, salt's a purifier and 2. Niya, girl, the net? Really?

Niya's begrudging acceptance of Xio coming back with them including the phrase "fine but I'm going to be a dick about it" is a vibe

Super glad Xio seems to be doing the right thing. Atzi's gonna be thrilled.

The gang being back together and teasing one another again genuinely made me forget for a moment that they were basically in hell. Ope. Thanks for the reminder Chupie.

Nope. Nope. No. Nuh uh. No. Absolutely fucking not. YOU CAN'T GIVE ME CUTE FIREBIRD FEELS AND THEN HAVE AURELIO PLAY FUCKING SACRIFICE. I FUCKING REFUSE

Jesus fucking christ I need to stop reading and go to bed...

Fantasma! My beloved! Trust that sweet little bean to give the most unassuming gift to Teo that ends up being the literal best thing in the middle of a battle they were about to lose.

And I'm fucking crying. Again. STOP GIVING ME FEELS

Hell yeah, kids! Fuck the system. Tear that shit down and build something better.

CAN WE STOP TRYING TO SACRIFICE OURSELVES??? First Aurelio and now Xio. Jesus, kids, stop. No. Bad children.

Awww, the bird army has arrived!!! Here for it.

Lmfao Auristela, baby girl, you don't even know where you're going. But also, Dezi and Marino are literally the cutest.

Daaaaaamn what a POWER MOVE, Xio! And ayyyyy on them realizing exactly who tf they are and who their real dad is! Proud!!!

Yesssss!!! Call in the parentals!!!

Teo screaming what I've been for the last few chapters xD fucking mood. E'eryone needs to stop tryna off themselves to save the world.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. NOT SUERTE!!!! -ugly sobbing like a little bitch- like, I get why he did it, I do, but dammit, that fucking HURT.

I understand why the gods left but I don't have to like it.

Yucca is def gonna be pissed when they all show up xD

Okay but that was a good ending AND I AM EMOTIONAL

[serendertothesquad]

Seren's Studies: Odd Squad UK -- "Club 37" Episode Followup, Part 2

...I'm doing this for all of you reading these followups, and I hope you realize that.

Let's go below the break as I pray that this episode gets better.

Okay, I'll have to assume that this girl is "Oh-Oh", even though Ozzie pronounces her name as "Uh-Oh".

Either way, she's way too chipper for someone going completely against the grind.

"We solve oddness. We don't cause it."

"But some people want their cases unsolved."

THAT IS THE SAME EXACT FUCKING THING. BY UNSOLVING YOU ARE, IN ESSENCE, CAUSING ODDNESS. THIS IS NOT STEPHEN HAWKING LOGIC WE ARE RUNNING ON FOR FUCK'S SAKE.

AND THEN THEY TRY TO FUCKING JUSTIFY IT BY MAKING THE VICTIMS WANT THEIR ODDITIES REAPPLIED?????? ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE.

Y'know...at least when people wanted odd stuff to happen to them, it was funny. It wasn't a common thing. It was a joke, a one-off gag. And I was fine with that, because those people were outliers, whether they were clients or villains.

The existence of Oh-Oh implies that this happens on a regular fucking basis and we're just supposed to take this as part of the franchise lore.

I don't know about you guys, but I am not, in fact, taking this as part of the franchise lore.

I don't know if I can give a bigger "fuck you" than the "fuck you" I'm giving right now. Not at work, not while driving, not at this goddamn franchise.

I would probably like this girl more if she wasn't in this episode and wasn't in the business of undoing the hard work of the other employees of the organization she works for.

And I would probably like this math lesson more if it wasn't in this VERY STUPID-ASS MOTHERFUCKING EPISODE.

*sigh so hard it cracked a rib bone*

The songs are bangers, though. But they are not this episode's saving grace by a fucking long shot.

...No, actually, I lied. I listened to the lyrics. This version is not a banger, and fuck you.

Good. Good on Orwell and his superb Security access system. Good for him. Proud of him. Proud of him for having sense and reason.

Too bad he's at the whim of Omar and these two will get in there anyway.

So...so cases are sorted by indivi- I can't. No. I fucking can't. There are four minutes left of this episode and I have never been more ready to shove it into a cannon, shoost it to the moon, and put it out of its fucking misery.

When Season 3 had lore, at least a lot of it was consistent. And they could bend the rules because they were visiting different precincts that had different rules and regulations depending on where they were. Things were fine, and aside from the writing and...well, several other non-lore criticisms, I was generally happy.

This episode? Gives a "fuck you" to the lore of the last 10 years and just laughs and says "forget about all that, here's some new nonsensical lore". And you can't do that to a decade-old franchise! There are rules! There are laws! There are established things! We already struggle with continuity and the timeline, stop making it worse!

God...it's really a shame I'm writing this at night, because otherwise I would go and take a walk and scream in the park and then walk back and regret my life decisions again.

Ozzie is such a hardcore brony that he's willing to skydive with a unicorn that may or may not have self-levitating abilities.

And a pair of wings.

"I need Phillip the unicorn!"

"No, no. What you need are some My Little Ponies."

"I...what?"

"Toy brand? Been around since at least the 80s."

"...Oh my God..."

"I'm taking you to the toy store later."

Recognition doth not this episode's infernal sinfulness undo, OMAR.

"Ozzie...karma...is...a bitch. A...stupid...bitch."

YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES. HELP THE DAMN MAN. HE TAKES PRIORITY OVER SEEING SOME GODDAMN NON-MLP UNICORN WHAT IN GOD'S BUTT'S NAME ARE YOU D O I N G .

And once again, OMAR...RECOGNITION DOTH NOT AN INFERNAL SINFUL EPISODE UNDO.

YESSSSSSSSSSSS MY GIRL ORLI GOT SOME PRIORITIES MHM. BLESS HER FOR DEVELOPING A BRAIN IN THE FINAL FEW MINUTES.

Ozzie, you bitch-ass bastard, any sane brony would have zapped the portal already. You have AN ENTIRE FRANCHISE THAT REDEFINED MAGICAL HORSES in Britain. Go watch some of that ancillary media.

OH WELL NOW YOU DEVELOP A BRAIN TOO HUH. JESUS F U C K.

*snaps fingers* KARMA'S A BITCH ISN'T IT. A SMART-ASS BITCH.

But of course. They're the main characters. We got half a season yet. Wouldn't be right if the focus shifted to all the side characters when these two got fired.

(Though honestly? I might like that better.)

"But I think we need to find a different way to reward the agents."

Mm...hmm...well, I dunno, this might be a dumb idea, but...a pizza party for every X amount of cases solved? Or maybe just the first 100?

Already sounds more sane to me, and it was executed better two seasons ago!

*deep sigh*

It was going so well...it was such a beautiful hope spot...

And then Opie decided to rip out that hope spot, stomp on it, run it over with an industrial steamroller, and feed it to the people at Alcatraz.

I mean okay, maybe this precinct doesn't have an Agent of the Month award. Fine. I can live with that. But this seems to be implying that this is an entirely new idea, when it was already brought up and used in the first two seasons twice over.

Yeah, there's a Captain's Club. But it's for Management agents only.

And that, folks, is where you can slip in a line reference to Ozzie's past to. Riiiight in there.

"There's a unicorn!"

But it's a My Little Pony unicorn. That is the difference.

And like an angel, in the wind, with a weird sea euphemism...she's gone.

Can't sea her anymore.

*sips Pepsi* Oldie but a goodie.

"Now, how can we make this unicorn so distinct, such a bootleg, even, that Hasbro can't sue us?"

"Put big eyes on it. Cartoonishly big. Like one you'd find in a 3D cartoon."

"...Perfect! I love it! Send it to editing!"

(Also, hi, bootleg Rainbow Dash unicorn. Nice to see you too. And nice to see my joke from forever and a half ago still holds up.)

Congratulations to Rainbow Dash for her successful gender transition and her eye surgery, done in the same scene. Best of luck!

Is that...is that a fucking cutie mark on its flank?

Is that a FUCKING CUTIE MARK or am I trippin'?

...I'm looking it up, that's Twilight Sparkle's cutie mark from Generation 1. She's got white in her mane...but there was no Rainbow Dash in G1; she came in G3 and had a rainbow mane. (Her counterpart from G1 is Firefly, who shares some colors but looks nothing like this unicorn.)

Because they're too scared to make an actual reference, the fucking bastards.

So essentially, it's bootleg Rainbow Dash with the white from G1 Twilight's mane (or perhaps the coat of Rarity from G4) and her cutie mark from that generation. A mix-and-match, if you will. (Or, likewise, the very-fanon Super Rainbow Dash, where her fur is, in fact, white.)

You didn't have to include the cutie mark. You chose to add that. And then you half-assed the rest of it. Could have made the unicorn have G1 Twilight's colors and that's it, but God forbid, Hasbro's gonna hunt them down for money, oooooooh scawy.

0/10. See me after class.

And your credits for this episode. My guess is that Ashleigh Ball refused to be credited as the voice of "Phillip". And I completely understand.

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

So overall, that was...huh. It was...well, first off, it was an awful episode. I think my rage pretty much speaks for itself. The Rainbow Dash/Twilight mashup bootleg unicorn, nor the songs, were not saving graces for this episode at all -- if anything, they were the cherries on top of an already-existing shitstorm. Awful pretty much across the entire board. If I want something leagues better, I'll go watch something like "Rookie Night", with a similar exclusivity premise, or "The Jackies", with a similar "solve X amount of cases" premise. Both are equally good episodes.

I need to...destress, lol. So next on the chopping block will be "Odd Way Round", which is Orli-centric and will probably feature lots of new stupid lore for me to nitpick at like an old-fart sod.

Seren out!

[ofdetonation]

hello! let me quickly run through some updates that have happened but i've neglected to mention. even if i ain't here, i may as well keep you informed - because once the bnha manga starts picking up again, i wanna be here.

putting it under a read more, bc it's all irl stuff. nonetheless, hope you all are holding up! it's been a real tough year jfc.

ms progression: so, six months on kesimpta (ofatumumab), still getting lesions popping up. from an mri on sept 4, had 3 new ones on the brain. hooray. progress seems to have slowed though, and sensory stuff hasn't been affected, so it's just brain stuff. makes sense, right?

family stuff: a close relative of mine is dipping in and out of hospital with treatment for something that's likely going to kill them before they're "cured". it's been pretty rough on the family, me included. it's been a long time coming but it still kinda sucks. another one's also jumping around doctors for issues, but that's less of the severe impending doom nature and more of the "oh well that's not good" nature.

trying to stay positive has been one hell of a task, but that's kind of why i've been deep diving into bg3 while not really interacting with people (see: maybe 2-3 people in a day). it's also why i haven't been on! keeping as sane as i can.

if you're still sticking around while i have all this going on, thank you! i haven't been active for ages, so i really appreciate it!

i really hope the bnha manga picks up (aka: bring back b.kg already i'm getting so sick of him being aliven't in this goddamn house), because i'd love to get really involved in the fandom and all! when i'm doing better, anyway. i'll hopefully come in with another update on my health in... a few weeks? recovery from lesions take way too goddamn long.

in the meantime: take a couple of screenshots from my current hyperfixation. deadass. i am (almost completely) unapologetic about how obsessed i am with this game, and i'll literally talk about it 24/7 365 rn.

oh, and a couple of my guardian in this playthrough. just bc i'm proud of her too.

[killjoyhistory]

To Kill A Demon Shark

(September 7, 2010 blog post by Frank Iero on the official MCR website. Posted after the MCR website returned.)

Hola friends, screw you enemies, it’s been awhile. I trust you’ve been well!  Hope you spent your holiday weekend wearing a smile…how would you like an update? Do you believe in the old saying that no news is good news? Well if you do, I suggest you close your eyes and read no further, cause I am about to post some news up in this bitch.

Here’s the score:

First off, I would like to say thank you to everyone on Twitter and the message boards for all your well wishes and congratulations, it’s very cool to have so many people excited for us. Yes, my wife and I are now the proud owners of two brand new baby girls!!! And we couldn’t be more thrilled. I must say they are a bit small yet to do all of the heavy lifting and chores I need done, but I’m pretty sure in time they will end up paying for themselves, plus they are so goddamned cute it’s sickening.

#2 our new record is done, finished, kaput, in the proverbial can, and being played loudly as we drive way too fast in our respective cars.

Would you like to hear it? Ah, I bet you would, but all in due time my friends…good things come to a patient MCRmy. We have a plan, and we are sticking to it. But look alive, keep your ears to the ground and your eyes bloodshot and open…there are signs everywhere and it will all make sense to you soon. Keep checking back for the shit to hit the fan.

Exciting news item number tre’. Guitar Hero: Warriors of Rock comes out Sept 28!  Excited? Us too! Actually, we’re so psyched we designed an exclusive guitar strap for the game, and you can get yours by pre-ordering your copy at Amazon.com! Happy shredding…in style!

Ah its been fun friends, but I must say goodbye for now. Thank you for the love, the trending topics, the beautiful drawings and artwork, and for giving everyone around you a headache by playing our records so loud.

We have much in store for you darlings, it’s gonna be a fucking trip.

Thanks for always coming along for the ride. xofrank

(Source: 1)

[a-flaming-idiot]

2023 AO3 Wrapped

Made by @floydsin

How many words have you written this year?  189,786 words! GODDAMN!! I didn't know I had that in me.

How many works did you publish this year? 11 fics.

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?  Titan Spawn. It is my most popular but I think that comes from the passion I've put into it. It's been a lot of fun and a huge crowing experience that I hope to continue into the New Year.

What work of yours has the most hits?  Titan Spawn

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?  Again, I gotta say Titan Spawn. My friends will tell you the same, it was meant to just be a silly twoshot to get me out of my winter funk. Then everyone's love for it turned it into what it is now.

Favorite title you used? Caught In A Multimouse Trap. It's simple and cute.

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most? I didn't really use any song lyrics. And even the ones I did were really just random and sporatic with no trend to them.

Pairing you wrote the most for this year?  I guess either Willuz or Alyanette. Willuz because technically all of Titan Spawn is considered Willuz even though they've had little screentime. And Alyanette has featured in like 2 1/2 of my fics. Though except for one it's mostly a background thing again. I don't do much shipping anymore.

Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?  Amivee since it's so out of left field but works very well in Titan Spawn.

What work was the quickest to write?  A Kitten's Responsibility. Wrote it in an afternoon in between my family's Christmas Eve-Eve party.

What work took you the longest to write?  I'd say chapters 10-11 of Titan Spawn. They were meant to be one chapter but split off into two due to their raw size. Took me most of the summer and over 30K words.

How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?  Three I still intend to finish. A BNA Swap AU I'm mostly done with, just haven't found it in me to get past the festival scene. A miraculous fic where Adrien/Chat Noir thinks Ladybug and Marinette are dating. Just stuck on the specifics of one scene but I intend to finish. And another one with Gabriel mentoring Marinette back from September I similarly just haven't found it in me to finish despite being 75% done.

What’s your longest work of the year?  Titan Spawn again... 145,769 words.

What’s your shortest work of the year?  Hush Little Tanuki. Makes sense. It was originally gonna be a chapter of another larger fic that went belly up.

What WIP are you taking into next year with you? See 12.

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?  "Hurt/Comfort"... honestly I shouldn't be surprised.

Your favorite character to write this year?  Definitely Vee. Specifically in Titan Spawn. She got so little screen time in the show but was so fun to make her even sassier and have her be more of the older sister to Luz and King. But Titan Spawn Luz was fun with all her quirks and I was happy to write Multimosue right at the finish line.

The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?  I'mma say most of the kwamis. They all have really vague personalities that were hard to really get while writing. Especially when I was new to the fandom. (Still kinda am.)

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?  I guess Amivee just because it's rare and funny. But again, not really going into the year with shipping on the mind.

Which work of yours have you reread the most?  Titan Spawn since it's so long and I do like to occasionally look back at older chapters. But by the end it felt like Caught In A Multimouse Trap. I kinda skimped out on editing near the end just because I was frustrated with having read it so much both for editing and just catching myself up after breaks.

How many kudos in total did you get this year?  1,275 Kudos.

Which work has the most comments?  Titan Spawn. Obviously the biggest and caught everyone right at the peak of the TOH fandom near the finale.

Did you do any collaborative works this year? Yes. @sashonya helped me a lot with Titan Spawn and we collaborated on Beast Or Man? (How Should I Know?) & No Sight, All Heart. plus Beta reading and helping to brainstorm Heart Of Aspiration.

Did you write any gifts this year?  No Really.

Did you receive any gifts this year?  No

What’s your most common category?  Gen with a few Teen.

What do you listen to while writing?  Not much really. Sometimes I listen to whatever music is hitting my fancy at the time or like a video essay, but I regularly pause or tune it out when I get into the motions.

Favorite work you wrote this year? That is near impossible to choose. I love all my wretched children! (Otherwise I don't finish making them) But if forced to choose, probably Titan Spawn and Caught In A Multimosue Trap. Though maybe that last one was just cause it's so recent. But I really love Multimouse and had fun writing her tiny and cute.

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?  I have written way too much to choose. I really do like most of what I made.

Biggest surprise while writing this year?  Titan Spawn taking off. Really I meant for it to just be a quick peak into a possible AU since I was in my winter funk. But people loved it so much and Sash really inspired me to add more to it. And now we have the goliath we got now.

[touloser-lautrec]

ohhhh you've piqued my interest, I'd love to hear about about Reeve and Cars and Girls' Night Out!! (for the wip title meme)

From the WIP title meme--

Thanks so much for the ask, @elizababie!

Oh, I am jazzed. I was hoping these two would get chosen!

Reeve and Cars and Girls' Night Out it is!

Let's start with Girls' Night Out! I am actually really proud of this scene. The gist of it is, Fredericka gets passed over for a job she was in line for when a man is promoted over her head. A group of the most powerful women in Sol take her out for drinks to supportively rage against misogyny.

The funny excerpt:

“It’s almost worse because Sol has this deluded idea that we’re all above prejudice,” Grace said after taking a sip of her pink cocktail. She wrinkled her nose. “What is this garbage? Cranberry juice?” “It is worse,” Temple agreed, ignoring her complaint. “Because they take it from you twice. The promotion and then your reaction to it. Invalidation is a classic tool.” “Such a goddamn joke,” Grace muttered, craning her neck to spot a server and waving him over. “Nolite te Bastardes Carborundorum, am I right?” she said to the waiter, smiling her sweetest smile and wiggling her cocktail. “Honey, I’m going to need about 300% more gin in this. Be a darling, would you?” When he reached to take the glass from her she shook her head and locked eyes with him before downing it in one gulp.  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, in something of a shock as he walked back to the bar.

Aaaaand the excerpt when Mackenzie, the head of Saturn, whose Knack is temporary omniscience (she can, for very limited periods of time and with the assistance of a harrowing, life-threatening procedure, access All Knowledge of All of Existence. However, that doesn't mean she can hold all of it, retain it, or make sense of it, and it could very easily drive a person mad). When she speaks, people listen.

Mackenzie held her eyes for a moment amidst the table’s laughter. It seemed like nothing could ever make her flinch. “The reality is, there is no fairness,” she said. Her voice was rich and deep like velvet wrapped around a sharp knife. “No justice, no karma, no great equalizer. Not even death.” The table fell silent as she spoke. The woman knew how to command attention and respect. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my days, it’s that we’re not built to hold it in our fragile minds-- this reality that no amount of integrity, righteousness, or fortitude will overcome the affliction of human nature.” She looked at each of them, straight in the eyes. “But if there’s another thing I’ve learned, it’s that those same fragile minds are a weapon. We’re not built to hold that knowledge that is so endemic to existence, because that knowledge is useless to us.” Her voice hardened. “This is a war of attrition. Our fragile minds may shatter like glass at that knowledge but shattered glass can slice a man’s throat. Even the tiniest shards can cut up your insides and kill you if you’re made to swallow them. Death may not equalize the world but it can damn well make a man piss himself. So we let our minds block out the parts that hold us back and we’ll force-feed them the undoing they’ve sown. There have been days when I’ve known everything there is to know, and I can’t hold it all forever, but the one thing that I can’t un-know is that things change. They mutate because of some small itch or tiny displacement. Just look at us. Knacks. Mutations. Impossible changes. Motherfucking pearls.” She picked up the bottle of scotch and started pouring again. “So, Fredericka. You were robbed. They will try to make you thank them for it. Don’t give them that. Instead, keep your head held high and make them choke on it.”  Freddie nodded, and the table sat in silence for a moment.  Temple cleared her throat and said, “Air resistance is the only thing preventing water molecules from falling through space at such high speeds that they’d kill everything in their wake. Just air. You can’t see it unless particles are suspended in it. Smoke is just a poof of dust that makes the invisible visible. And even once you see it, what you can’t see is just how heavy it is. Air weighs enough to scare the living daylights out of you. Resistance and invisible, imperceptible, impossibly heavy weight. That’s it. That’s the thing--the most important thing--that keeps us as organisms alive.” She looked around the bar. “Where the fuck is the waiter?” Dakota balked. “That can’t be how you finish your thought, Temple.”  Grace laughed, but Freddie didn’t. Freddie said, “They don’t see us unless we kick up some dust.” Temple nodded. “Exactly.”

Reeve and Cars is definitely more @sunset-a-story's baby, but it's an early scene where a young, nerdy Reeve first discovers his ill-advised love affair with classic cars. He later goes on to telepath-and-fake his way through making his friends all think he knows what he's doing with cars, but this? This is where his love affair with his '68 Nova all began. Haha

Here's an excerpt :

He popped the hood and Reeve moved to stand beside him to stare into the heart of it. Reeve’s eyes moved over the raised round disc that looked like some sort of air filter in the center, the tangle of black wires at the back, and thick hoses coming out of the front. He leaned down, taking in the deep smell, and touched one hose connection hoping to look as though he knew what it did. As he peered at the mysterious puzzle of it Reeve felt a whisper of that calmness. The engine didn’t have thoughts or motives or judgements. It would function in a set way or it wouldn’t. He straightened and nodded a mute approval.  “You want it?” Rob asked with a look that bordered somewhere between amused and fatherly. Still Reeve could feel the doubt pouring from Rob’s thoughts at the sight of this young, freckled kid with hands that were too clean and uncalloused.  Reeve kept his eyes on the car. “Yeah, I’ll take it.”  “You got that kind of cash on you? No offense, but I’m not about to take a personal check and I’m not the type to haggle.”  Reeve did turn then and couldn’t keep his lips from curling to one side in a smile. “I can be surprisingly persuasive.”

[cracksofmtdoom]

Well nothing shocking here. It is 4 am and I’m up. Still got a bit of crack. Well not exactly but at least a hit or two. Yay!! It has now become nearly impossible to see any way out of this mess. Both of us are just doing the wrong thing over and over and over. I had really hoped that she could be strong enough to keep me from falling further. Be the rock that I really need. But she has instead followed me down this pit of failure and pain. It hurts me badly to see her in this state. It takes a heavy toll on her physically and mentally. She does not take proper care of herself. We have a void between us. The drugs cause the same goddamn problems each and every time. And the stress of having to come up with the money for this vile soulless cocksucker kills me. I hate him. But yet here I am yet again smoking his product. I am sick. I am an addict. I am powerless. I’m wasting the precious time that I should be spending with my son. Wow. I had typed a whole new sentence or two regarding the Hellicorn but it did not get saved somehow. Ok take 2.

Oh the countless times that I have failed. At sooo much for sooo long now. It needs to end. Period.

I have failed many. All of them ones whom I claim I love and care for. And yet almost each one them still, without question, genuinely love me. I am worthy of love. I am. I deserve to have a healthy happy productive meaningful life again. They are all pulling for me and want to see me happy, at peace, sober and alive again. I long for that. I have an absolutely incredible family that I am so very grateful, proud and blessed to be part of. We are all kinda fucked up in our own strange ways. But we are family. We look out for each other, take care of each other. Love and respect each other. It’s a beautiful thing. I shut them out, I fell victim to the family affliction of addiction. As my father, his father and his father’s father. It isn’t isolated to one side or the other, but I believe it is the Bartels bloodline which is more influential if that word makes sense. Anyway, it’s an awful soulless faceless monster which consumes all that was and is good in you. It is ugly. It is sick. It cares for nothing. It begins to kill the soul. I have to wonder after this much time lost and on a frantic pace, what remains of my soul…. I know that it’s still there. Battered, burned and broken. But there and desperately clinging to me. I need to let go. Enough is enough. I do want to feel alive again. Intermission

I do enjoy this font. Cursive writing is cool. It’s a dying thing though. They no longer teach it in school. No need when you don’t really have to write, typing being the majority of time

Strange little thought stream I guess. And I was just thinking of the fact that I have a lot of people to make amends with. To not let their continued love and support be in vain. I have long standing relationships that I would like to rekindle when possible. I have so many things I want and need to do and be to be the best possible father to B. I’ve been a terrible father and have let him down far too many times and missed out on a lot of important time and events in his life. He’s at a delicate point at this age. I was already on the wrong path by his age. I need to be there for him. Goddamn. How awful I am. This twisted mockery of me that is. There is good in me. I am a good person and deserve to love myself and those around me. To put this burden aside and stop the madness and the continuing suffering. I am a father and that is an awesome responsibility and a great privilege to have the opportunity to do good, to instill values and wisdom and praise and love the human being that you created and give him the best you possibly can and show him what a real father is like.

[campgender]

Yes! Just! Like oh good lord, jesus, yes! Ik u havent even had time 2 respond 2 the rest of my ask (understandable, I am Also nothin if not long winded), & here Im already adding more 2 the pile, but! Ok I didnt wanna like, b 2 presumptuous abt exactly Y it felt like we’re parallel (waves! Hi!) but I also totally was thinkin abt stuff like ‘Im subby af & I think its 4 sure A Factor cuz idk abt Mac but I get the feeling ze is decidedly Less So’ & then u said high femmedom & it was like yes! 1/4

Hello! (Sidenote, ace/stone/sub/bottom combo means I took a Comically long time 2 figure out that those 1st 2 traits werent just extensions of the 2nd 2 lol) Stone resonance, I love that, omigosh. & I think thats exactly where the parallel gets so interesting, w/ the allergy friendly cake (ur talking 2 a fellow ‘I cant eat anything’ celiac here), cuz that ‘Asking 2 much’,

4 me its like, I feel like Im still v much reeling & relishing in the freedom/fear mix of like, submissive acts ofservice r still Acts Of Service & u can b uncomfy w/ them, or even just U Can B Uncomfy W/ Shit, Period, like w/o the need 2 ‘Make up 4 it’, so the idea of sum1 getting off on those boundaries is like, not Bad, but it feels like it kinda undercuts these still v new & healing ideas 4 me, ykno? Like I need it 2 b ok even when no 1 is conveniently in2 it.

& ofc this is me talking on a personal level, like I absolutely Get wanting ppl 2 b in2 it & I love that 4 u, omg. <3 Also that last paragraph, holy shit, I want that, like, on a shirt or embroidered on smth, omg. If this is a disease I sure hope its sexually transmitted, I mean goddamn! Hopefully Im not monopolizing ur inbox lol, but u continue 2 b a poet & a delight. <3 -Baby

omg thank youuu this was, as always, lovely to receive & truly so so validating. that’s the first time anyone has said i have dom vibes & it genuinely makes me tear up 🥺💓💓 also omg stone celiac solidarity!!! <33 that’s so exciting & truly makes me feel like someone out there Gets It

i absolutely feel & affirm smashing the perceived need to “make up for” something to smithereens, that makes a ton of sense & definitely resonates with feelings / needs from a given sexual interaction that i kinda fluctuate in & out of these days. i’m proud of you for doing your best to honor yourself & your boundaries & wish you so much love on this journey!!

& tyyy omg, you’re a delight & i appreciate hearing your thoughts & experiences so much!! also thrilled you appreciated my high femmedom verbiage lol, a fun mac fact is my favorite porn genre in my early 20s was vids that involved a woman getting a guy off without touching him, particularly cbt & getting off on her shoe. & now i’m looking back at that like babe u were sooo oblivious oh my god

like so much of my sexual journey rn is looking at my past self & zyr desires & being like “guess what, you can just do that.” it’s a process that’s baffling + frustrating + deeply pleasurable, & i’m interested to see what other connections remain for me to make. i’ve been keeping a journal of sorts to try to trace these themes with the hope of doing more of what i enjoy in my life

a different thought i’ve been turning over lately & wanted to share with you is how my particular experience of stone + domming + disability troubles the concept of what it means to top someone. like, guys have told me how to fuck myself & i’ve told people how to fuck themselves, & the former were tops or vers who considered that an act of topping me whereas i’m high femme, & the only difference is they wanted it to be their cock rather than my toy whereas i wouldn’t want anything different if i was with someone in person.

so it’s like, is the fantasy what constructs this act differently? the omnipresence of my boundaries? i don’t think there’s a single answer, it’s just fascinating. obv some people don’t consider virtual sex acts to be fucking at all, which i love how my disability + stone + denial challenges bc again, i can fuck someone without touching them in person, too lol

as always thank you for so much food for thought + sense of community!! hope ur doing well, all the best to you 💓💓