#i wanted to write something small because there's nothing on tumblr

[kamospeach]

that smile on your face makes it easy to trust you .ᐟ

plot: tattooartist!geto wants his favorite canvas to show off his work.

content warning: oral f!receiving, choking, piv sex, fingering, praising, doggy, breeding, a lot of dirty talk

peachy's yap: wc! 5.1k. placed in Tokyo, but i didn't use conversions, and i specified that when speaking about money. i wrote this before i started writing on tumblr so it might be a lil bad.

"mmm, sugu..." you moaned, trying to stop the force of his thrust with your hand.

"be a good girl and take it all for me, okay?" he groaned out, intertwining your fingers behind your back and holding your hand in place.

now, you're probably wondering how you got here. hours before the incident you and your friends sat around on your bed. you all were scrolling through pinterest, trying to help your youngest friend build the courage to get a tattoo. you had friends of all different ages, races, and types since you transferred to a school in tokyo. your college in the us had an exchange program, which you were eager to sign up for. in all honesty, you were excited to meet the famous tiktok star satoru gojo.

living in tokyo was still new to you, and you had been going to school there for a year and a half. you made a lot of friends who were from the same program as you. you were the oldest and most obvious mom of the group. you treated the others like they were fragile babies, even though some of them were only a few months younger than you. one of your friends had just recently turned 19 and had never gotten a tattoo.

"come on, tattoos aren't that bad." you stressed to your friend. you were littered with tattoos, 25 in total, so of course, it seemed like nothing to you.

"that's not fair you have so many this will be my first one." he complained, and you laughed at his nervousness.

"what about your artist that did the majority of yours? can he do it?" another one of your friends asked, and you nodded at her statement.

"yeah, he's very gentle, so it won't be bad. i'll facetime him." you said and called suguru. 

the whole time you had been in tokyo, suguru had been doing your tattoos. out of 25, he did 20 of them, which made you get closer. sometimes, he did your tattoos when you just popped up or even after hours when he was fully booked. most times, you would call him and talk while he sketched a large tattoo for you. you guys had become friends and even got some tattoos for free, small ones, of course. it was also oddly convenient since you're a major fangirl for his best friend, satoru.

"you must need something." he blurted, answering on the third ring. you giggled at his assumption, looking at the way his phone was sitting.

"you're doing a tattoo?" you asked, slightly dodging his statement.

"yes, my only appointment for the day, you need to come by?" he asked, he never passed up a chance to take your money for something he loved doing. especially getting to see your pretty face sit in his chair and the look of satisfaction on that face when he finished the tattoo. 

"my friend wants a tattoo, and i recommended you because you're not too heavy-handed." you said, throwing in a smile, and he chuckled. he looked good to you, maybe better than usual. he had on a white shirt, which was different since he usually wore dark blue or black. you couldn't see his lower half, but you suspected he had jeans or sweats on. his long hair was in the usual bun at the top and hair down in the back.

"why do i feel like you're trying to sweet talk your way into my chair, kid." he joked, and you grumbled at the 'kid' nickname. 

"i'm doing it for my friend." you reminded him.

"oh yeah? so you're not doing it for the tattoo i sent you a couple of days ago." he raised a brow, and you laughed. he had sent you a very large sketch of a dragon that he said would look good on you. he offered to do it for 300 us dollars instead of 700 as long as you modeled it for him. you swore you would promote him on all platforms since you were pretty popular.

"if you want to do it today, we can." you offered, throwing the ball in his court.

"you guys can come i should be done in 30." he laughed, and you smiled, standing as all your friends began grabbing their belongings to leave. you walked away from them, noticing he had his airpods in his ear.

"i missed you, you know." you said lowly, not trying to draw attention to yourself. he glanced at you, and his eyes showed everything he couldn't say aloud.

"i missed you too; you'll hurry and get here, yeah?" he said, making your stomach churn from the naturally seductive tone he carried.

"we're 15 minutes away, but it might be some traffic." you informed him, and he nodded understanding.

𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩

"woah, it's nice in here." your friend said loudly, making everyone else agree. 

"sugu!" you yelled, seeing him grabbing the cash from the client. when the client left, you went to suguru, immediately hugging him tightly. 

"you act as if we haven't seen each other in months." he joked still returning the hug as enthusiastically as you.

"2 weeks is a long time." you huff, sitting in a chair next to him. all your friends followed behind you, standing at the end of the chair. your friend getting the tattoo sat in the chair and explained the idea to geto. he began to sketch as you scrolled through your instagram messages, responding to brands that wanted to work with you. before you knew it, you heard the buzz of the needle, and he began to work. "oh! sugu, i need to tell you about what happened last week."

"i'm listening." he said, yet you could tell in his voice that he was interested. he was focused, and that was when he looked the best. the right side of his lip was tucked between his teeth, and his eyes were low. the veins in his arm protruded due to his grip on the needle, and the vein in his neck that never went away was more prominent. you rested your chin on your palm as you talked to him and watched him work on your friend's arm.

"he's really good." a friend of yours complimented him, and you nodded.

"thank you." he mumbled out, still focusing on his work. after another 30 minutes, he was finished with the tattoo. it was a song lyric, so it didn't take long to finish it and wrap it up. 

"you guys don't have to wait for me; this tattoo is pretty big." you assure your friends.

"you sure? will you need a ride home? i can always come back and get you."

"i'll take her home," suguru interjected, and you smiled, nodding at my friends.

"okay then, bye, see you later!" they all said in unison, waving at you as you walked back to suguru's chair. suguru followed behind your friends to turn off the open sign and lock the door. he closed the curtains and turned off the main lights to ensure no one would assume they were open. he walked to his station and turned on the extra lights he had to brighten up the specific area.

"nobody's here today?" you asked a little late, but your mind was distracted by the white shirt he had on.

"choso only had one client, so he went to pick up yuji. yuki never came, and the other guys left early, too." he explained.

"so, where did you want to put this one?" you smile, looking down at him as he sits in his usual chair.

"your back." he said printing out parts of the pre-sketched tattoo.

"cool! i've been wanting a back tattoo it's so empty." you admit, look at his back muscles flexing as he cleaned his station. "why a white shirt today?"

"is it a crime to wear white?"

"i mean, it is when all you usually wear is dark colors." you smile, and he nods.

"laundry day." he admitted, and you chuckled.

"maybe next time i can get you to wear pink." you smirk.

"maybe not." he said blandly. suguru was an avid pink hater, and light purple came a close second. you always teased him about pink and light purple and even bought him a pink and light purple gift for his birthday (along with tons of black and dark purple gifts). 

"i'm nervous now," you said, taking off your shirt and holding your chest. you had become comfortable with being in minimal clothing around him. he was even there when you got your nipples pierced, which would make sense since he owns the place (you invited him back because you were scared).

"what happened to that kiss you promised me?" he asked, ignoring your statement as your face got hot. 2 weeks ago, geto and you had kissed for the first time. he asked for another, and you told him you would the next time you saw each other.

"you would ask that now that i'm shirtless." you roll your eyes, and he just chuckles. you walk to where he stands, and his tall frame leans down. his hands gripped your waist, bringing you closer, and he whispered in your ear.

"nothing i've never seen before." he kissed your neck under your ear, causing a shiver to run up your spine. goosebumps formed on your body as if you were cold, but his body kept you warm. the way he spoke about seeing your chest made it almost feel inappropriate, yet it was because of the body piercing.

"so lewd." you sighed as he grabbed your face, bringing it close to his.

"yeah?" he questioned.

"y-" as you began to answer, he cut you off, connecting your lips. your mouth open from speaking, let him insert his tongue in your mouth. forgetting you didn't have on a shirt, your hands went to his hair, slowly massaging his scalp. 

he moaned in the kiss from the feeling of your fingers, loving how it felt. his hands traveled from around your waist to under your breast. your tongues fought for dominance, and he inevitably won as he explored your mouth. without thinking, his thumbs began to lightly caress your nipples, which were sensitive from the piercings you had gotten not even a month ago. he pulled away, looking down at your breast that rested perfectly in his large hands.

"i'm sorry," he apologized breathlessly. he quickly moved his hands, and you tried to catch your breath.

"it's okay." you said honestly, sitting in his seat. your chest pressed against the cold leather. most of your sessions with suguru weren't sensual or sexual. to be honest, this was different for the two of you; you just couldn't deny your attraction to suguru.

"you comfortable because once i get started, you need to stay very still." he said, and you scoffed.

"i know suguru." you said as you heard him laugh. for a second, he paused, letting the soft r&b play through the speaker. you internally chuckled at him playing the shared playlist that was full of music you told him to listen to. he began to place the stencils on your back and draw with the pen to fill in the empty places. as he did these little movements, your eyes closed as partynextdoor 'no chill' played. per usual, your thoughts drifted to suguru. 

now, it hit you like a bullet train going close to a million miles an hour. those times he called while sketching and said he'd want to see you with a back tattoo. or those times he said tattoos would look good around your neck. you always frowned at the idea as he smirked, saying 'went right over your head,' and you cluelessly shrugged. his hand around your neck? he wanted to see you with an arch in your back that emphasized those tattoos? sneaky.

suguru's signature smirk as you talked about tattoos. it wasn't the only thing you had in common, but it was where he could throw in dirty jokes, and you not even notice. before you knew it, your breathing was steadied, and you had lightly dozed off. suguru noticed your breathing and removed the needle.

"hey, love, you need to wake up just in case you twitch." he said, lightly rubbing your hip near where he was working.

"mhm." you mumbled, waking up and looking at the tv that was muted but played a program that you'd never seen. two hours had passed, and you were trying not to nod off. "sugu, i'm sleepy." you told him, and he nodded. 

"we can finish it tomorrow you probably have an hour and a half left." he said, and you shook your head. 

"i have work tomorrow i can't come." you pouted look back at suguru, who nodded.

"okay, if you twitch, i'll stop, and we just gotta plan a different day." he warned you, and you tried extra hard to stay awake. "what has you so tired anyways?"

"had three classes today from 7 to 2." you explained, and he nodded. 

"and how are you doing in those?"

"i'm doing good, i promise, just stressed. this is making it better." you tell him, knowing he acts like your father when it comes to your grades. he chuckles, and he works diligently on the tattoo. although you did nod off a few times, you were still enough for him to finish the tattoo all in one day. 

"maschocist?" he asked, joking, and you laughed.

"a little." you played along.

"you did good, love." he said, and the butterflies erupted in your stomach.

"t-thank you." you stuttered, immediately embarrassing yourself.

"thank you because i did your tattoo or because i praised you?" he questioned, reaching a hand out for you to stand as your legs felt weak from sitting for such a long time (and definitely not because his voice was hot). he kept his hand in yours, and you both walked to the mirror to see what he had done.

"maybe both." you shrugged, turning around and looking at your back in the mirror. "sugu..." you gasped, looking at the tattoo that was beyond the word beautiful. 

"do you like it?" he looked up at you, and your jaw dropped.

"like it? i love it." you say as he laughs.

"you always make me feel good about my work, " he says, wrapping his arms around your waist as you look up at him. you look at his face, caught in its beauty, as he waits for your response. his teeth play with the hoop of his side labret piercing on his plump lip.

"people must tell you all the time how good your work is." you say and he smirks at your assumption.

"sure they do, but your opinion matters the most." he says as you begin to realize he's leaning into you. you summon all the positive self-talk you can to reassure yourself that you can handle this without embarrassing yourself. like you figured his lips crashed onto yours and the two of you began to kiss vigorously. your teeth touched here and there and his tongue was exploring your mouth all in a matter of seconds.

"sugu..." you hum as his lips leave your mouth and attack your neck. he began to lightly bite and suck at your neck as you let out a light moan from the feeling of his lips.

"yes, y/n?" he says, and you sigh at the feeling of his lips. "show me how much you love my work, baby. show it off to me, hm?" he says, and your heart begins to flutter at his words. his voice was smooth like silk and his words were sensual.

"okay." you say lowly letting go of your chest and putting your hands in his hair. it was your favorite place to put your hands, to busy yourself, and hearing his groans was music to your ears.

"this is what you want right?" he asks leaning back to look you in your eyes.

"yes, i want you, suguru." without a second word, he picked you up and placed you on the chair you had previously sat on. your hands quickly went to his belt to open it.

"slow down, let me please you." he whispered in your ear as he removed your hands from his belt. his hands slowly grazed your sides his fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. he slipped his hand slipped into your shorts pressing your covered clit. your breathing became ragged, and you whimpered in his ear. he slowly rubbed your clit barely putting any pressure just enough for you to know his fingers were there and moving.

"sugu please." you begged looking him in his eyes and he smirked at your begging state.

"please, what?" he asked as your head began to spin. you didn't even know what you wanted from him at this point. you just knew that you wanted him.

"i... i" you started still lost in your words.

"you what, baby? you want me to touch that needy pussy for real?" he hummed, and just from the words, your hip bucked at his hands needing to feel him.

"yes, please touch me, suguru." you asked, and he smiled at you, finally being able to ask for what you wanted. he finally put his hands inside your thin undergarments, pressing his cold fingers directly on your warm cunt. you're insanely wet and would be dripping if your juices weren't restrained. his middle finger grazed over your core seemingly testing to see how aroused you were for him.

"you're so wet for me." he breathes out as he slips his middle finger in you without warning. you moan at the simple girth of his thick and long digits. he skillfully maneuvers his fingers as your cunt squelches. the only sounds in the tattoo studio are you and suguru's heavy breathing combined with the sloshing sounds of your juices. 

"fuck..." you moan throwing your head back and enjoying the pleasure that suguru was giving. although you imagined having him all for yourself taking his big dick up your tight virgin-like cunt. you never imagined it would feel this good just from one of his fingers.

"you can take another finger for me, right?" he asked, not awaiting an answer he added another finger searching for that rough and spongy spot in you. once he found that spot, he continued to simulate, rub, and push on that spot as you clenched around his fingers. he removed his fingers once he could feel you even getting slightly close to finishing. 

"hah... hey," you huff as a pout immediately finds its way to your face. without saying a word he put his fingers to his lips. he licked your essence off his fingers while maintaining that almost unbearable eye contact with you. "suguru..." you tried to warn him but it mainly came out in a whisper.

"i want you to cum on my dick not my fingers." he whispers as he leans down to suck on your right breast. you moaned loudly at the feeling since your nipple was still sensitive from the piercing. he rolled your left nipple between his fingers and massaged your tits. he let off with a 'pop!' switching to the left before repeating the process of giving your other nipple attention. once he felt he was done, he began to unbutton your pants.  seeing that as a green light, you rush to remove his shirt. "you can't be in that big of a rush." he teases.

"i been waiting a long time for this." you admit to crashing your lips to his so he can feel your urgency. he eventually gave up trying the slow approach and hastily helped you strip down. after you had finally got him to just his boxers you lightly pulled at the band and he smiled. "i can do it?" you asked shyly and he laughed.

"go ahead." with his permission, you pulled down his boxers, watching as his girthy dick slaps his stomach. he was unbelievably hard; his tip was bright red and dripping precum. you couldn't take your eyes off of it as you shamelessly stare at his throbbing dick in fear. "you ready?"

"yes." you squeaked, and he smirked, grabbing your legs and lifting them to your chest. unexpectedly, he leaned down, sending one singular lick to your soaking wet lips. your legs begin to tremble at the feeling while suguru sends kitty licks, purposely ignoring your clit. "suguruuu..." you whine, and he stands up, smiling as his lips glisten from the juices. 

"i got you." he says, putting his hands up to your mouth. "spit." knowing you were getting closer to the goal, you immediately spit in his hand. he begins to jerk himself with your spit eyes rolling to the back of his head from the feeling. 

he had to snap himself out of it, remembering that this was real he wasn't dreaming of you. he could really fuck you and feel the way your warm cunt feels around him. you both being too intoxicated by each other's scent threw caution to the wind and didn't even think of using a condom. he lines his dick up with your entrance slapping his tip on your clit a few times before slowly pushing his way in.

"oh my..." you both gasp in unison at the feeling, his head is pressed against yours as he continues to push his way into you. he had you in a mating press as he tried not to put his full weight on you. he filled you up perfectly you felt full and stuffed just from half of him. he continued to push himself into you until he completely bottomed out. you both took a second he was allowing you to adjust while he tried to not nut already. your breathing was matched and you both looked each other in the eye.

in. out.

in. out.

in. out.

in. 

and suguru slammed into you as you took a deep breath, knocking all the wind out of you. he smirked as you gasped for air, and he continued with his bullied thrust. he pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in not even letting you catch your breath again.

"you hear that? you hear how wet you are for me." he whispered in your ear as you babbled out 'yes, yes, yes, yes' in response. your moans were loud and echoed around the tattoo shop. he leans up and begins to speed up his pace both hands on the back of your knees pressing them closer and closer to your chest as his thrust begins to get more and more ruthless. 

"s...s...s..." you tried to speak but you were so cock drunk you couldn't even get the words out. you were embarrassed and you couldn't even look at suguru who gripped your jaw roughly turning you to face him again. 

"spit it out." he says in a mocking tone, and you roll your eyes at him. "you want to roll your eyes?" he asked as you ignored him, gripping his forearm tightly at the pleasure. "answer me." he spat, and you whined shaking your head.

"no!" you moan out as he hit that perfect spot in you that had you almost ready to come undone. he rapidly pounded into you so hard that you felt the pressure in your chest. it almost felt as if his cockhead was poking at your heart begging you to love him and his dick. 

"can i leave marks?" he asked, remembering all those times you complained to him about men leaving hickeys on you without permission.  your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your moans became more and more guttural. 

"mhm," you hummed out, and he immediately began to work on your neck, leaving hickeys. once he felt he was done with what he called his 'masterpiece,' he looked at you. fucked out with his marks on your neck, collarbone, and chest. he laughed at you as he grabbed both of your legs and crossed your ankles. he placed your crossed legs over his right shoulder as he continued to watch your fucked out face. 

"maybe you should get my name on you." he says as he kisses your ankle making your eyes widen in shock. he couldn't mean what you thought he meant. "maybe a necklace?" he says as he gives you a forceful thrust that has you screaming out his name. "yeah, you like that?" he says as he wraps one of his hands around your neck squeezing lightly.

"yes, sugu i love it." you say not even realizing you admitted to loving the idea of having a necklace with his name on it.

"you love it? you didn't even... hah... hear my other ideas... fuck." he says as his statement is broken up with his moans and groans. he's in bliss loving the feeling of your warm gooey walls wrapped tightly around his cock as you clench and hold on to him with every thrust. "fuck baby, you feel so good. you're taking my dick so good. such a good girl for me." now it was suguru's turn to babble about how good you feel. his thrusts are getting sloppy as he feels you clench even tight.

"sugu 'm cumming." you whine out as he makes his thrust more pointed at the spot he knows drives you crazy.

"cum on your cock, make a mess on me." he coaxes you to your end as you moan your loudest moan of the night. "look at the mess you made." he instructs you as he keeps fucking you through you high. you looked down at the ring of cream that wrapped around his base. he slides out of you and quickly flips you over. "now that you're warmed up, you can show off that new tattoo, hm?"

"wait, i'm sensitive." you whine, and he doesn't say anything, just rubs his tip up against your entrance. he gave you maybe half a second if you were lucky and pushed into you again. "shit.." you mumble as he pushes himself fully in, your back naturally arched at the feeling. without letting you adjust to him, he begins to snap his hips into you quickly.

"you look so good taking me, sweetheart." he says as he watches the way your ass ripples each time it hits his pelvis. one hand was on your hip, and the other sent a hard slap to your ass cheek. his thrusts were relentless and your moans were getting louder and louder each time.

you grabbed his wrist as your face was squished into the chair. suguru didn't say much his jaw was slack hypnotized by your ass and the way you gripped him. he couldn't take his eyes off of you the way you looked under him was better than anything he could've ever imagined.

"mmm, sugu..." you moaned, trying to stop the force of his thrust with your hand. you were getting closer by the second and still sensitive from your previous orgasm. it was starting to become too much as tears spilled from your eyes due to the pleasure.

"be a good girl and take it all for me, okay?" he groaned out, intertwining your fingers behind your back and holding your hand in place. using your hand as leverage he gives you slower and longer strokes. slowly out and roughly back in, hitting that spot that made you mewl out. "are you close?" he asked as your body began to twitch from the feeling.

"so close, baby, so so close." you say and he grunts loving the way you sounded moaning out his name.

"where do you want it, sweetheart?" he asked and you being a fucked out mess yelped out without even thinking.

"inside me, please cum in me, fill me up, sugu." you begged, and how could he deny his beautiful muse what she desired? as both of your climaxes built up, he grabbed the front of your neck, choking you lightly as he pulled you up so that his chest was against your back. his free hand reached down to rub circles on your clit as he continued fucking you. "i'm cumming, shit."

"me too, cum with me." he whispers deeply in your ear as the both of you cum together. your body jerked as you violently came, and he continued to send sloppy thrusts, filling you up. he grabs your jaw, turning your face to kiss you sloppily. your tongues explored each other's mouths until you both decided to catch your breath.

"that was... amazing." you panted as he slowly slid out of you. the emptiness makes you whine and the sensitivity makes him shiver. 

"you were so good." he says, rubbing your cheek as you look away from him shyly. he walks away to get a wet paper towel. "this is as good as it's gonna get." you laugh as he cleans you both off and throws away the paper towel. he grabs your thong and helps you get dressed, sitting you back down on the chair. your legs were already getting sore, and you could only imagine how bad it would be tomorrow morning. 

after suguru got dressed, he double-checked the shop, making sure everything was good for him to leave. you just sat watching as he walked around, in shock that you actually got to fuck him. maybe the next time you should do it in the mirror, you thought to yourself as he handed you your purse. 

"ready to go?" he asked and you nodded walking alongside him. "now i'm going to have to take you on a date to ask the real question." he said raising his brow and looking at you.

"what question?" you asked, acting dumb, wanting to hear it now, but suguru wasn't falling for it. he opened the door, letting you out first as he hit a light switch.

"guess you'll have to find out during the date. how does friday sound?" he asked and without even thinking you obliged.

"friday is fine!" you say, concluding if you did have anything planned it would just have to be canceled.

"sounds good." he smirks, taking one final look around and turning off the final light switch. suguru locked the doors and thought to himself: i'll never quit. he wouldn't dare forget the memory of your fucked out face every time he'd do a tattoo on that same exact chair.

[writeriguess]

So this is like a semi emergency request. I’ve seen people ask other blogs for those, if it’s not ok on your blog just ignore me!

But do you think you could do a Hawks x reader where he’s like her husband and he constantly has to remind her to drink some water because she’s just the type that won’t if not begged to. So like one day she gets really sick when she gets home after patrolling all day and she faints due to dehydration from not drinking water for a while.

I’m going through a wicked case of dehydration rn because I’m just not the type to drink water often and I just need the comfort. I definitely regret my decisions and I’m going to try to be better about drinking water, I think I’m learning my lesson lolll

author's note: I want to be clear—this is a one-time exception. With a busy season ahead, there will be entire weeks when I won’t be able to check Tumblr or write. During those times, I won’t be available for “emergency requests.” My first busy period starts in just a week and a half, and right now, I’m scrambling to get through requests because I won’t be able to cover those two weeks I’ll be away. If I started receiving more of these last-minute requests, they would slow me down too much. That said, I do hope you feel better soon.

Also, just a quick heads-up: Tumblr’s gif library has been down for several days, so I won’t be able to include gifs in any fics requested less than a week ago. I’m really sorry about that! Hopefully, it’ll be fixed soon.

Flight Risk

The moment you step through the door, exhaustion weighs you down like a lead blanket. Your limbs feel heavier than usual, your vision swimming slightly as you toe off your boots. Patrolling had been brutal today—villains popping up left and right, citizens needing assistance, and of course, the unrelenting sun bearing down on you. Still, you push through, ignoring the sluggishness in your body, the dryness in your throat. It’s nothing you can’t handle.

Keigo, however, would strongly disagree.

“Babe, did you drink any water today?” His voice carries from the kitchen, where he’s leaning lazily against the counter, golden eyes flicking toward you. The way his wings shift—just the slightest ruffle of irritation—makes it clear that he already knows the answer.

You wave him off, too drained to deal with his nagging right now. “I’m fine, Hawks.”

He arches a brow. “That wasn’t the question, dove.”

You roll your eyes and mumble something incoherent, making your way toward the couch. You don’t even get the chance to sit before the dizziness swells into something much worse. The room tilts, your knees buckle, and then—nothing.

When you come to, the first thing you register is warmth. Something soft and feathery is draped over you, and it takes a few sluggish blinks to recognize the familiar red of Keigo’s wings wrapped around your body. His scent—fresh air, something musky and warm—grounds you, but there’s an underlying tightness in the way his arms are curled around you.

“Seriously?” His voice is quieter than usual, but the edge in it makes you wince. “How many times do I have to tell you to drink some damn water?”

You shift slightly, only to be met with a firm press of his hand against your forehead. “Uh-uh. Don’t even think about moving yet. You scared the hell outta me, you know that?”

Guilt settles heavy in your stomach. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to?” His laugh is hollow, and he pulls back just enough for you to see the crease in his brows. “Sweetheart, you passed out. In our living room. After I specifically asked you if you drank any water today.”

You avert your eyes, feeling suddenly small under his gaze. “I was busy.”

Keigo lets out a sharp exhale, clearly biting back whatever smart remark is on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he shifts, grabbing a glass of water from the nearby table. “Drink.”

You hesitate for a second too long, and immediately, his expression darkens. “Drink, or I swear to God, I will hold your nose and pour it down your throat.”

A laugh bubbles up despite yourself, weak and hoarse. “That’s dramatic.”

“And you’re impossible,” he grumbles, but there’s no real bite to it. He lifts the glass to your lips, watching closely as you sip. The water is cool, soothing against your parched throat, and you hadn’t even realized how desperately you needed it.

Once you finish, he sets the glass aside with a sigh, running a hand through his messy blond hair. His wings twitch slightly before curling tighter around you, caging you in his warmth. “You can’t keep doing this,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “I don’t care how strong you are. You have to take care of yourself, or I will—personally. And trust me, baby bird, you won’t like my methods.”

You hum, nuzzling into his chest. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

Keigo groans, pressing a lingering kiss to the crown of your head. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” But the way his arms tighten around you, the way he stays tucked against you for the rest of the night, says otherwise.

He just loves you too much to let you slip through his fingers—even over something as simple as forgetting to drink water.

The next morning, you wake up to the sound of rustling feathers and the warm press of a hand against your cheek. Blinking blearily, you see Keigo crouching beside the bed, his golden eyes scanning your face with clear concern.

“How do you feel?”

You stretch your arms slightly, feeling a little less drained than before. “Better,” you admit, voice still raspy. “Still a little tired.”

Keigo frowns but nods. “That’s expected. You were majorly dehydrated. I had to keep waking you up last night to get you to drink more.” He gestures to the nightstand, where an empty water bottle and another half-full one sit.

A pang of guilt washes over you, and you reach for his hand, giving it a small squeeze. “I’m sorry, Kei.”

He scoffs, but there’s no real irritation in his expression. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll accept your apology on one condition.”

You tilt your head, wary. “What is it?”

Keigo grins, but there’s a sharp glint in his eyes. “You’re not allowed to leave this bed until you finish another full bottle of water. No sneaky dumping it in a plant, no ‘accidentally’ knocking it over. I’m watching you.”

You groan but take the bottle anyway. “You’re a menace.”

“And you’re a flight risk when it comes to taking care of yourself,” he quips back, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “But you’re my flight risk.”

With that, he settles in beside you, watching closely as you take slow sips from the bottle. You know he’s not going to let this go anytime soon, and honestly, with the way his arms wrap around you like a protective cocoon, you don’t mind one bit.

[gay-impressionist]

france is burning.

667 people were arrested last night. they are curfews in place. public transport is partially closed at night.

nahel, a 17-year-old, was shot tuesday by the police during a traffic stop. he wasn't violent or armed, he wasn't a threat. but he broke the law and tried to drive away, so the cops killed him.

and now france is rioting.

there is a video so the government isn't trying to deny the facts for once. but the minister of the interior (in charge of the police) still insist that the police shot less people since the 2017 law on public safety.

but an analysis of police statistics by Le Monde, the most read newspaper in france, says otherwise. when the police shot on average 250 people each year in the five years prior to 2017, that number became 297 after 2017. for shots fired specifically on moving vehicles, the average used to be 119 and it's now 150. before 2017, there was an average of 0.06 deaths per shot. now it's 0.32.

more than ever, the police shoots to kill.

so france is burning.

[frostheria]

Just making a general post real quick in response to an ask.

When I say I'm anti-ai I mean I'm against any sort of AI that steals from others or would otherwise be used to put people out of a job. I don't feel like having an elaborate conversation about the positives and negatives of AI and all that, so I'll state this as plainly as possible.

I don't like AI art. I don't like AI voice impersonations. I don't like any sort of AI that has to steal stuff from people without their consent in order to function. That is literally it.

I'm not against ALL AI. I don't think people that are okay with AI in general should be burned at the stake or something. I'm just an artist and writer that doesn't like AI being used in CREATIVE SPACES. That's it.

I didn't think I would have to clarify this but, here you go, for anyone that was bothered.

[sun-kissy]

light | bucky barnes

bucky barnes x sunshine!reader; neighbour au — ★ 1k words

summary: bucky meets you, his bright, new neighbour, and is instantly endeared

tw: nothing, tooth-rotting fluff <3

a/n: first time writing for bucky… please be nice 🥲 consider this my official letter of intent into the mcu fandom on tumblr LOL

Ding dong! Bucky is quick to get to the door, abandoning his attempts at brewing coffee. The espresso machine Sam had gotten him sits sadly on the kitchen platform, likely broken from the looks of the dented knob and crooked buttons. Some things he could get a hang of easily — appliances were not one of them, and neither was using his metal arm with gentleness. He’d have to try and fix it back up later.

He pulls the door open, pleasantly surprised to see you standing there, with your twinkling eyes and sweet smile. Bucky hadn’t known what love felt like in a long, long time. But he thought the ache in his heart when he first saw you came dangerously close to it.

His first encounter with you was a couple of days ago, when he was just moving in. Dr. Raynor had told him that a move would be good for him, giving him a chance to have a fresh start. Bullshit. The only thing he’d gotten out of the new neighbourhood so far was a headache because of the sweltering heat, and a pulled muscle in his arm — the non-metal one — from hauling boxes up the stairs to his apartment.

He was busy cursing his therapist under his breath when you showed up, like some sort of angel in his plight. You jogged over to him brightly, hand wrapped around the leash of a fluffy brown dog. Bucky’s first instinct was to push you away when you offered to help. But you were persistent, and he gave in on account of shutting you up.

Your smile had widened immediately, and he remembered wondering how anyone could be so happy to help a stranger.

He couldn’t have been more wrong. Your enthusiasm only grew with each minute you spent together. It was like you couldn’t stop chattering — asking him where he was from, how long he was going to stay, and everything else under the sun. He hadn’t asked, but he got to know a lot about you too. He now knew you worked in a clinic near the neighbourhood, you lived alone with your dog (whose name was Milo), and that you weren’t particularly close to any family.

Bucky couldn’t help but soften more and more by the second. You were incredibly endearing, all soft smiles and loud laughter. It was like catching the first glimpses of morning light after being locked up in darkness for a lifetime, and frankly, he was smitten. You told him that you lived a few floors up and that you’d be back to visit soon. When you held Milo’s paw in your hand, the dog all bundled up in your arms, and waved him the most adorable little goodbye, he knew he was gone.

He was more than happy to see you on his front door today. You were all dolled up, pink tube top with a frilly white skirt. He couldn’t help the smile that quirked his lips. “Hey.”

“Hi!” you chirp, already digging into your bag for something. Bucky eyes you with an arched eyebrow as you pull out a Tupperware box, handing it to him excitedly. “Brownies.”

“For me?” He hesitantly takes it from you, surprised. There’s a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach.

You step into the house as he pulls the door open wider, confirming it with a nod. “Yeah, for you. Baked them myself.”

“Oh.” He clears his throat, closing the door behind you. No one’s ever done something like this for him before, niceness for the hell of it. It makes him want to pull you into a hug. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem at all,” you brush him off, flashing him a small smile before turning your attention to his living room. He watches as you peruse the place curiously, eyes darting all over before landing on the espresso machine. “So, James…” you start unsteadily as you walk towards the kitchen.

Bucky lets out a huff of laughter. “James? Where’d you get that?”

“I asked the security guard downstairs about you, didn’t let him off till he told me your name,” you smile sheepishly, twirling your curls around your finger. “He said it was James Buka… Bucha…”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” he interrupts with a fond sort of amusement. “Bucky for short.”

“Bucky,” you repeat with a giggle. “Cute. I like it. Also, do you need help with this?” You gesture at the smoking coffee machine, spilt puddles of the liquid dotting the kitchen platform.

“Oh, um,” he shrugs, a light pinkness dusting his cheeks. “Sure.” He watches as you grab a new mug and pour some milk into the machine. Your tongue juts out adorably as you click the buttons concentratedly. “What’s yours?”

“Y/n,” you mutter, straightening up proudly as the brown liquid starts to spout into the mug. You turn to him with an accomplished grin. “It’s working.”

“Thank you,” he chuckles, heart squeezing in his chest when you give him a wink. “Y/n. That’s a pretty name.”

Bucky swears he can see the blush on your cheeks, but it’s hard to make out with your back turned to him. You busy yourself with wiping the spilt coffee, but he hears the smile in your voice when you thank him.

You hand him his coffee before grabbing one yourself, making yourself comfortable on his couch. He leans against the platform as he talks to you.

Surprisingly, you’re not as chatty today. Perhaps you were more comfortable around him, feeling less of a need to fill the silence. He tells you about the war when you point to a picture on the wall, one from the 40s, in which his arm is slung around Steve’s shoulder. He’s glad you don’t ask about Steve.

Soon, you make to leave. “I have an appointment with a friend,” you smile apologetically as you stand, dusting yourself off. “This was fun, though.”

Bucky nods and walks you to the front door, pulling it open. “It was.”

“See you around sometime?” you ask hopefully as you pull your heels on.

He softens, voice tinged with affection. “Sure. Why don’t you come over for lunch tomorrow, if you’re free?”

“Really?” you beam. “Great. I’ll be here.”

You call out to Bucky as you make your way to the stairs, vigorously waving your hand in farewell. He gives you a small wave in return, trying his best not to smile.

[lymtw]

Hi ! This is my first time requesting something on Tumblr and I don't know if your requests are open, but if they are could you please write something about Toji where f!reader is his girlfriend (long term) and she gets in a small argument with young megumi in which he says she's not his mom (which she isn't, but she still kinda raised him with Toji). She gets sad and Toji comforts her and maybe scolds megumi and it's fluffy at the end ?

I hope it's not too confusing 😅 and if you don't want to do it it's completely okay ! I really like the way you write Toji and your works are so good !

A/N: Ngl I actually kinda teared up a little when I was thinking out the scenario for this. Don't judge me, it was like 2am-ish lol. This prompt is so good 😭🫶🏼

Thank you for sending in this request 💙

Toji could hear bickering coming from outside your shared bedroom, familiar voices going back and forth over who knows what in the room next door. He tried to roll over and go back to sleep, because he trusted that it would be over soon. You're an adult talking to a kid. Your logic is sharper than Megumi's, so things should be resolved quickly. His eyes shut again, but the arguing wouldn't cease. Who knows how long this has gone on for.

He sighs and blinks his tired eyes open, before getting out of bed to see what all the commotion is about at eight in the morning. He grabs his shirt from the end of the bed and slips it on, over his head, as he walks over Megumi's room. Your voices are much clearer to Toji, now, as he nears the door. He stands by to listen in on what's going on.

"I just organized your room, Megumi. All i'm asking you to do is to put your toys back where they belong when you're not playing with them."

"I am playing with them," the boy says, holding two dinosaur figures. "I'm playing with all of them. I'm gonna go back to the ones over there, right now."

You sigh. The argument has been looping this way for too long. It feels pointless to argue with a child, yet you're still doing it because deep down, it irks you to have put in so much effort to keep his space clean, just for him to trash it the second he occupies the room, again.

"Let's see." You start looking around the floor for toys you know for certain he hasn't been playing with. "You're not playing with this plushie or this car. This slinky isn't being used either and it's gonna get tangled if you don't put it somewhere safe."

The boy groans, tired of hearing you list off things you see out of place on the floor. He goes back to playing with the dinosaurs in his hands, blocking out your voice.

"Megumi, are you even listening to me?" You ask, setting some of the smaller toys you collected off the floor onto the top of his dresser.

"I don't want to and I don't have to," he utters, carelessly, not even sparing you a glance. "You're not my mom, so I don't have to listen to you. Just my dad."

You're stunned by this sudden revelation of his feelings towards you. The argument is over. Megumi was the winner because he got you to back off, but at what cost? Your heart weighed a ton after what he said. You had nothing else to say to him in that moment, so you let go of your end of the tug of war rope.

Toji hears your footsteps nearing the door and makes himself known by appearing as you're heading out.

"Hey." He attempts to grab your attention, but you don't even look at him. You pat his chest twice and leave the room. He takes a step out of the room, calling for you once more as you get farther away from him. "Ma." All he gets is a thumbs up from you as you keep walking, an indication of how you're not emotionally stable enough to respond verbally.

Toji sighs, briefly watching Megumi, who still hasn't stopped playing with his toys. He's completely unaware of what just went down.

He steps further into the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed, next to his mini.

"Megs, that wasn't cool." He receives a hum in response. "Why would you say something like that?"

Megumi's hands still. He briefly looks at his dad before resuming what he was doing. "Like what? I was just in here, playing with my toys," he says, feigning innocence, not knowing that Toji had been listening.

"I heard what you said and it wasn't nice at all. She's always been good to you."

"But what I said is true," he exclaims, his expressive, green eyes widening, defensively.

"Okay, let's calm down. I'm not raising my voice, am I?"

Megumi slowly shakes his head. He puts down the dinosaur toys and crosses his legs, folding his hands in his lap.

"I want you to look at it this way," Toji starts, looking around at the room you were once so proud of for returning to a pristine state, now cluttered with various toys and clothes. "She's always been here for you. She takes care of you when I have to go to work, she reads to you before bed, she wakes up to make you breakfast. You like when she makes breakfast, right?"

The boy nods. "I like when she makes dog shaped pancakes."

"Yeah, me too. You think she's gonna wanna be around and make dog shaped pancakes for us if you talk to her like that?"

Megumi shakes his head. "No, but she wouldn't stop telling me to clean up my toys when I told her that i'm still playing with them."

"Well, I only see you playing with this little pool of toys, here on the bed. Everything else is just scattered all over the place. You know she worked hard to clean this place up, right?"

"Mm... yeah," he responds, coyly.

"You're like a tornado, Megs," he says, causing the fluffy-haired boy to laugh. "Yeah, it's pretty funny, huh?" Megumi keeps laughing while nodding which makes Toji crack a grin.

"I'm sorry," Megumi mumbles, once he settles down. He looks down at the palm of his hand, tracing the lines on it with his thumb.

"That's not for me to hear, kid," Toji says, setting a hand on his head.

"But, i'm scared to tell her. What if she's mad at me?" He turns his head to look at his dad, eyes darting between matching green eyes and the scar that mars his lips.

"Nah, she loves you too much to ever get mad at you. How 'bout I go see what she's doing, and you draw something to give to her? When you're ready to give her your drawing, you can come out, yeah?"

"Okay." Megumi nods. "I'll go out there when i'm ready."

"Alright. See you in a bit. Love you."

"Love you, too, dad," he responds, a slight tint of red on his cheeks.

Toji leaves him to it, leaving the door slightly ajar when he exits the room. He immediately directs himself towards you. You didn't hide or hole up in the room, instead you went to the couch. Toji sits next to you, watching you scroll through your phone.

"Hey, you good?" He asks, watching your face as you turn your screen off and shift your attention to him.

You sigh. "Yeah, it's fine. It's not like he lied."

"Don't say that. You know he's wrong." He puts a hand on your knee, squeezing comfortingly. "He's still a brat that doesn't know the weight of his words. Thinks he can just fire out things like that and move on like it's nothing. As long as i'm here, he won't get away with saying ridiculous things like that to you."

"Yeah," you say, still sounding disheartened.

"I talked to him about it. The kid was just pissed that you called him out for the mess he made. He just wanted to be right, with zero logical thoughts in that head."

You nod, not wanting to say anything more about it. Everything Toji said was correct, but you still felt like you were tossed aside, in that moment. Like you were a puzzle piece that didn't fit into their family.

"Don't be bummed about it, baby. You know he loves you, and remember, he has called you 'mom' before."

That brings a smile to your face. You remember how shy he got after realizing what he said. The word slipped out so naturally. You treated him like you normally do, but on the inside you were all giddy and proud to be considered a maternal figure by him.

"There you go. There's that pretty smile," Toji says, grinning as he pulls you close.

"Stop," you say, blushing when he starts peppering your face with kisses. You giggle when he starts chasing your lips, eventually giving you the warm, comforting kisses he wanted to give you.

You push his face away when you hear the door to Megumi's room creak, followed by Megumi himself. He takes slow steps out of the hallway and when he sees you and Toji staring at him, he gets nervous. All the attention is on him so he diverts his gaze and looks down at the floor until he's standing in front of you two. His face is red and his hands are behind his back. Toji knows what he's hiding and he smiles.

"What's up, Megs?" You ask, when he just stands there, silently.

He shifts on his feet, looking at you and then at his dad, before looking at you once more. His arms come forward and his hands shakily extend a folded piece of paper towards you.

"For me?" You ask, enthusiastically, to which he nods before looking down at his feet, again. You unfold the paper and take in the whole page of bright colors. Toji looks at it over your shoulder, a soft smile resting on his face when he sees the genuine effort that was put into the page. The first thing you notice is the big 'I'm sorry' written in his jagged and uneven handwriting, followed by a heart that you can tell he redrew multiple times based on the faded outlines behind it. There's a drawing of two simplistic dogs and what looks like the flowers you put on the dinner table. There are three stick figures that resemble you, Toji, and Megumi. You smile when you see that he didn't miss Toji's scar. He used the top corner of the page to draw the sun and there are different colored stars all over the place.

"Aw, I love it! Can I keep it forever?" You ask, smiling when you look at his adorable blush-y expression.

"Yeah, I made it for you," he mumbles, shiny eyes looking back at you.

You fold the paper, carefully, making sure to follow along the crease he already made, and set it down beside you.

"Can I have a hug?" You ask, reaching your arms out. He nods and makes his way over to you, his small arms coming up short as they wrap around you. Your embrace envelops him entirely. He's nonexistent in your hold because of how small he is. You squeeze him a little tighter, causing him to giggle at the gesture. "Love you soooo much, Megs." Before you release him, you give him a small peck on the cheek. "How about some pancakes for breakfast?"

"Can you make them in the shapes of dogs, again?" He asks, tapping his foot, excitedly.

"Of course, I can," you respond, and he gets even more excited.

"Dad! D-Dad! Dad! She's gonna make dog shaped pancakes, dad!"

"Yeah, I heard," Toji responds, a dumb grin on his face. "You should help her out, today."

"Okay," Megumi says, before sprinting to the kitchen.

"I should go help him before he gets the kitchen messy, too," you say, rising from the couch when the boy quickly vanishes.

"Hey, come here," Toji says, pulling you back by your wrist. You're pulled down for some quick kisses, a continuation of the session that was interrupted earlier.

"Love you, doll," he says, his eyes flitting between your starry ones and that smile that makes him weak.

"Love you." He doesn't let go of your hand until the link breaks, once you're out of his reach.

[toonice113]

Oh My My My ⋆ ★ J.Hughes

pairings: Jack Hughes x fem!reader (nicknamed Mary)

Genre: fluff

Trope: childhood best friends to lovers

summary: You've been in love with your best friend Jack since you were seven and he was nine, growing up your moms were convinced you would end up together and your dads would joke about it non stop. As you grow up you navigate through life together and figure out that maybe your moms were right all along.

warnings?: they are both in love with each other but can't admit it. I don't like using Y/N but I had to use it once or twice, a longish read?, timeline might be a bit wonky idk?, angst for like two seconds, there’s not a full on description of reader, but it’s briefly mentioned she has freckles, reader is called Mary the whole time but it’s a nickname, mention of bugs, I skimmed through it but didn’t really edit it, specially the ending so there might be some errors sorry.

Word count: 3.2k 

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ This is my first time writing in tumblr and about Jack in general hi i apologize in advance if this sucks but i was listening to debut and this idea popped up in my mind. Also English is my second language so there's that. Enjoy!

At seven years old you realized you were in love with your best friend Jack, you have been neighbors for forever and although you were in Luke's class in school, you had always been closer to Jack. Your afternoons were spent following around the Hughes brothers while they played hockey, often finding yourself playing referee when the two older boys wouldn't let Luke touch the ball they used as a puck. Your favorite time of the year though, was summer. Your summers at the lake house were magical, in those years it was you and your parents joining the Hughes two weeks after summer started and after you'd visited your grandparents.

That specific summer your parents had announced they were having another baby and you remember all the fuss everyone made about it and how even though you wanted to be excited about it you couldn't help but feel a little scared of your parents not loving you as much anymore, no one noticed the change in your mood but Jack, he knew something was wrong when he noticed your smile wasn't as big as always, how your eyes weren't almost closed as they usually were when you smiled genuinely. “What’s wrong?” he asked as he sat next to you in the porch swing after lunch. 

“Nothing” your voice came out small and it made Jack frown, he knew you were not okay and he wasn’t about to let his best friend keep feeling down if he could help it.

“Mary…”

“What if they don’t love me anymore?” your bottom lip trembled, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

 “Who?” the boy was confused, who could she be talking about? How could anyone not love his dear Mary? She was the perfect girl, kind and pretty and nice and smart and he could go on and on about the good qualities he found in his best friend for days.

“Mom and dad, what if when the baby comes they realize they don’t want me anymore?” Jack immediately wrapped you in his small arms

“Mary it’s impossible not to love you” he said “Plus, when Luke was born mom and dad didn’t stop loving me so I’m sure your mom and dad won’t stop loving you” That afternoon you and Jack spent hours sitting in the swing holding each other not really talking much but feeling comfort in each other.

“I dare you to throw this at Jack” Luke opened his hand to show you a small green caterpillar trying to crawl out of his palm.

“He’s going to freak and hurt it” you furrowed your brows, one thing Jack did not play with was bugs. Spiders, worms, roaches, it didn’t matter, they all freaked him out the same, which sucked because Luke was in that stage where he was fascinated by the creepy crawlers as Jack had baptized them and he often dragged you with him to explore the backyard and find new ones. 

“It’ll be okay” you stared at him for a few seconds before sighing and putting your hand out, out of all three boys Luke was always the best at convincing you to do things you didn't want to do, and he found it especially funny when he got the opportunity to mess with his brother without repercussions because Jack could never be mad at you.

Approaching Jack who was on the end of the small pier watching Quinn try to fish you tapped his shoulder, turning around he smiled at you “Oh hi Ma- AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH” he screeched as you flung the caterpillar at him, the poor bug falling on the wooden deck and beginning to crawl away while in his state of panic Jack took one too many steps backwards and fell in the water behind him. Quinn bursted out laughing dropping his fishing pole on the deck and clutching his stomach, behind you Luke laughed as well and you, well you couldn’t help but stare with worry in your face until the boy came up for air flinging his arms and exclaiming angrily, you knew he was angry because he wasn’t using your nickname, “Y/N I’M GOING TO BEAT YOU UP” he, of course, never followed up with his threat though, never seriously thinking about actually hurting you, he did however tell on you to your parents who after lecturing you on how that was dangerous and both Jack and the caterpillar could’ve ended up hurt grounded you for the weekend and you missed out on the trip to the outdoor movie theater, feeling bad Jack brought you back all your favorite snacks as an apology for getting you grounded.

During the first two weeks of summer when you were ten you had spent lots of time with your older cousin, she was fourteen and had told you all about her previous school year, including the story of her first kiss leaving you curious about it. When you arrived at the lake house you couldn’t shake the story out of your head, your cousin had said the boy she had kissed was one she really liked and that it had created butterflies in her stomach. On your third night there, You and Jack were outside after dinner, sitting in the tree house his dad had built for the kids to hang out in, he was wrapping a stick while you flipped through the pages of a magazine “Hey Jack” he looked up from his stick to you “Truth or dare?” you were hoping he chose dare so you could implement the plan you had been thinking about since the day you’d arrived. You wanted to see if the butterflies your cousin had talked about were true.

“Dare” bingo! 

“I dare you to kiss me” his eyes widened and you stared as he thought about it for a minute debating whether having his first kiss with his best friend was a good idea or not, then your eyes widened as he put his stick down and began walking the short distance to you, and as he was about to kiss you you panicked and ran away leaving poor Jack standing there staring at your figure disappear inside the house feeling embarrassment and defeat, that night Jack realized he might have liked you a little more than as just a friend.

As you grew up things changed, new friends came around, boyfriends and girlfriends, busy schedules creating a distance but never separating you two completely, even with your part time job at the froyo shop and Jack’s hockey you still found time for movie nights, early breakfasts before school, rushed meet ups during breaks and of course, summers at the lake house. 2019 was a specially weird year for you all, Jack had been busy with the US National development team and your parents had decided to buy a new house all the way across town, forcing you and your little sister to move schools. The move had meant that you could no longer just walk to the Hughes house and therefore you hadn’t seen the two younger brothers in a couple weeks, Quinn having already moved to Canada. But as summer approached you got through the two weeks of visiting your grandparents before getting ready for the big day, Jack’s draft was coming up and while your parents and sister were staying behind and spending the summer with your grandparents, you were meeting up with the Hughes in Vancouver. 

Quinn’s apartment was buzzing with emotions, Ellen lecturing the boys about being in their best behavior during the ceremony with Jim by her side nodding but not saying anything, the grandparents looked amused at it while the boys looked bored. Jack lit up when you arrived, jumping up and excusing you both with the excuse that he needed your opinion on his suit, pulling you into Quinn’s guest room as you managed to wave hello to everyone before he slammed the door behind you. “Thank god you’re here” He whispered into your hair as he held you close.

“Nervous?” You ask him basking on the warmth he radiated and the hug you had been waiting for for over a month now.

“No, just tired. Mom’s been going crazy over the whole thing” He pulled away a little, still keeping his hands on your waist but far enough so he could talk to you face to face, that’s when he realized you had changed in the month and weeks he hadn’t seen you, your hair was a bit longer, you were tanner and there were new freckles adorning your face probably from spending your days in the sun while at your grandparents and you had lost some more weight in your face so your cheekbones sat taller in your face, your lips were plumper too and for a second was ready to risk it all just for a kiss, but he quickly came back to earth and pulled you back for another hug pulling you towards the bed where you two laid cuddled up to each other as you told him all about your time apart. 

As he updated you on what life had been for him recently you stared at him and if he wasn't so into the story he was telling you were sure he would’ve noticed the loving glance you were giving him. He hadn’t changed one bit since the last time you’d seen him and you couldn’t help but get lost in his eyes that twinkled under the soft glow of sunshine coming from the curtain that wasn’t closed all the way. The door opening interrupted your thoughts, Luke and Quinn hurrying in and closing the door behind them, Luke threw himself on the bed while Quinn sat down by their feet “I need tomorrow to be over already” Luke sighed dramatically grabbing your hand and putting it in his head so you could run your fingers through his curls.

“Do you think she’ll be this stressed for your draft or will she have it down by then?” Quinn chuckled at his younger brother’s theatrics.

“God I hope she has it down or I might not show up until I absolutely have to” Luke said, you laughed at him as Jack tried to kick him off of you both but it only resulted in Luke slotting between you two.

“Let her be excited, two of her babies will be playing in the NHL next season” You tell the boys “Also I really don’t think she’ll be any different for your draft moosey, if anything she might be worse than right now, you are her youngest after all” Luke groaned pushing you away

The next day went by in a blur and suddenly you were at the Rogers Arena sitting between Jack and Luke after switching places a few times, you were originally supposed to sit besides their grandma but then she asked you to switch places because of the air blaring on her or something like that so you’d moved to sit on her original seat next to Quinn but then Luke started complaining about Quinn manspreading and not having any space which resulted in you and Quinn switching places and finally five minutes before the ceremony started you noticed Jack become a little restless for the first time all day after showing confident to everyone and with a singular look, Luke and you knew you had to switch places. 

That is how you found yourself sitting next to Jack, his hand holding onto yours strongly, the only sign he had given anyone that day of having any nerves. When the Devils called his name as first pick of the draft you all got up celebrating and he hugged you first “I’m so proud of you” you whispered in his ear before moving to the side so he could hug his brothers and then the rest of his family. It goes without saying that your phone was filled with so many pictures and videos of him on the stage the next morning that it kept telling you you were out of space. 

When you finally arrived at the lake house for summer after your stay in Vancouver your parents had a whole celebratory party planned out, a bunch of Jack’s friends joining you for it, and after dinner the parents decided to leave and so the house was filled with loud music and rowdy teenagers, you not being a big fan of small crowded areas retrieved to the upstairs balcony after making your rounds, staring down at all the people dancing and thinking about how this past year you had barely seen Jack and after this summer you would see him even less, the realization hitting you like a train, he was moving to New Jersey in the fall and you were staying behind for at least two more years, there was no way your friendship was ever going to be the way it had been ever again and you didn’t know if you were ready for it. 

“Now what are you doing here all alone?” The sound of the sliding door and a voice stopped you from thinking about it too much.

Turning slightly you could see Quinn walk towards you “Just not in the mood for a party I’m quite tired” but Quinn had known you your whole life, and even though you had never appeared as closed to him as you were with the two younger brothers he had always taken the role as a big brother seriously, that included being your big brother too so he knew something was wrong, but he also knew when to push and when to wait, so he just sat next to you and sipped on his beer bottle waiting for you to say something or decide you were okay to return to the party, he would stay with you all night if he had to “I’m so happy for him, his dreams are coming true you know? But I can’t help but feel sad too” you finally spoke after a few minutes of silence, still looking at the party below “I mean this is the beginning of something great so why does it feel like it's also the end of us?” 

Quinn watched as your eyes welled with tears, quickly setting his beer down and moving closer to hold you “Why do you think this is the end?” he wouldn’t admit it because he didn’t like to meddle, but he agreed with their dad’s idea that Jack and you would end up married one day, eh wasn’t blind, he’d seen the way you had his brother wrapped around your finger since you were six and eight, and even though you had never told him anything about your feelings and you were usually really good at hiding them, he’d seen the way you looked at Jack when you thought nobody was looking.

“We’ve already fallen apart this year and I only moved twenty minutes away I can’t imagine what it will be like once he is in New Jersey” You spoke through tears and sniffles, your thoughts too loud for you to notice the sliding door opening again, Quinn noticed though, turning softly as to not disrupt you in his arms, his brother, the one you were crying for was standing there, a heartbroken look on his face, Quinn encouraged him to come closer and talk to you with his eyes.

“Mary I don’t think I could go too long without you” Jack muttered walking towards you, startling you and making you separate from Quinn who squeezed your arm lightly before going back to the party. You stood there paralyzed feeling embarrassed from Jack finding out you were feeling this way, not wanting to make it seem like you were making it about you when it was supposed to be one of the happiest nights for him. “I’m sorry you felt like we were drifting apart I guess I was too in my head about the draft that I forgot about what was really important” 

By now he already had you in his arms, your head resting on his shoulder as you held onto him tightly, as if you were scared he would disappear “You don’t have to apologize this, I- um it’s nothing I’m just overreacting I don’t know hormones or something” you stuttered out the sentence. 

“But I mean it Mary” he spoke softly “I should’ve never been too busy to call you back or drive to your house to see you”

“You were busy with hockey Jack I understand that” you said looking up at him “It was important”

“And you are important too, god Mary you’ve been the most important person in my life for ten years, who else could I love so much as they were throwing a slimy little worm at me? I even apologized for getting you grounded after you did that” he chuckled at the memory making you smile “And who else could get away with leaving me hanging at a truth or dare kiss? Do you have any idea how much Quinn made fun of me after he found out about it?” This time it was you laughing “All those 2AM snack trips, and sneaking back into the house without anyone noticing, which mom knows about by the way, apparently we are not as sneaky as we thought we were, are my favorite part of summer, because it's just us, and I get to see you, the real you, not you who feel like you have to constantly check up on Luke or sit up straight the whole time so your mom doesn’t call you out on your posture, or like you have to help Quinn with everything because none of us do and you don’t want him to be all stressed out, those nights of just you and me watching mamma mia in our pajamas, you singing to every single song and trying to get me to dance with you, I wouldn’t change it for the world, you are my best friend yeah but I think somewhere along the way I got lost in the road and ended up falling in love with you” His confession leaves you speechless, wondering if it is real, if your best friend who you have been in love with for ten years is really standing in front of you telling you he is also in loe with you, and its only when you feel his hand touch your face to pull some strand of hair out of it that you realize it is all very real, so you reach up and pull him by his neck connecting your lips in a kiss you had been waiting for for too long.

Pulling away after a minute, both of you with smiley faces you speak “It was a cute little caterpillar I threw at you, I regretted not kissing you as soon as I ran out of the tree house and for the record I’ve been in love with you since I was seven after you sat on the porch swing with me for hours when I thought my parents wouldn’t love me anymore” Jack chuckles at your remarks and pulls you back in for another kiss.

[capricores]

if you have strong mutable (gemini, sagittarius, pisces, virgo) placements then you NEED to write things down if you don't already. all those thoughts that constantly swirl in your head: the frequent tasks, goals, feelings, aspirations, opinions, etc - WRITE THEM DOWN. this is not only therapeutic & stress-relieving for you but almost necessary, or you're going to burn out and overload your own mind constantly.

when you bottle, or when you let plans, goals, dreams, to-do lists, projects, etc live solely in your head - you'll notice you can't sleep as well, it's harder to rest, your memory gets more foggy than usual, you feel burnt out and unable to connect, etc. specifically:

write down your feelings. this will be your ultimate (free) therapy. start to journal, write a diary. make a private twitter/tumblr where you spill your feelings, frustrations, thoughts. you will feel an immense sense of relief by writing or typing your feelings out - even if no one is reading it but you. mutable moons especially. our feelings tend to change rapidly, but it doesn't make them less valid. don't bottle out of the fear your feelings will change/you'll just "get over it"!! write it down and let it out!!

write! to-do! lists!!!!! these don't have to be for important things. you want to learn digital art? you want to study coding? you want to learn french? you want to re-decorate? you probably have a billion things you want to do, and then you get overwhelmed by the options, and do nothing. write down all the things you want to do. make a to-do list for these things. get them out of your head and somewhere permanent/physical. looking at the options in front of you will feel much easier.

make excel project trackers (you can even make these for to-do list items/goals/etc)! mutable placements have a tendency to start a lot of projects or tasks, and never finish any of them. make a simple tracker for all the projects you start. you won't forget what you're working on, and you'll be less overwhelmed trying to remember what you have going on (example of the one i always use pictured below)

talking out your thoughts and feelings is also very cathartic. make fake (or real, i support u!) youtube vlogs where you spill your feelings and talk about your plans, your day, what you have to do, etc. talk to someone you love and trust, vent to them about how things are; or about what you're getting up to. i find writing has an edge, because you can go back to it for reference (mutables tend to forget things easily) - but as long as you're getting the swirl of your mind somewhere outside of your head, you'll feel so, so much less stressed.

mutable dominants tend to constantly live in go-mode, we're restless and always doing something. we feel uncomfortable and sometimes guilty about staying still. our minds don't ever shut off. it's very important for mutable placements to learn how to rest, be present in the moment, and learn grounding. this can be done in many ways, but i've found personally that writing works best for me. other helpful practices can be: talk therapy, acceptance theory, yoga, meditation, hiking, camping, etc.

i also want to remind mutable signs: we change a lot. we have a lot of ideas. there's so much we want to do. we often feel like we have no path, no big goal; we can struggle with purpose as we don't often aspire for permanent things or "one big goal". this is NOT bad. there is nothing wrong with changing your feelings, your mind, your goals, your life path. you CAN do all the things you want to do! you have your entire life ahead of you! yes, you can learn all those languages. yes, you can have three different careers in your life. yes yes yes! don't listen to negativity from others. don't beat yourself up for not having one big goal like some people around you might. cherish and embrace all the things you want to achieve and complete (both big and small). learn to follow-through with and finish the things that matter to you (writing things down will really help with this, make action plans/steps - break everything down into smaller pieces). take the time to slow down and enjoy the moments as they come. you got this!

[drunkkenobi]

Hi bb, ty for the prompt to write my thoughts!

So I can't get on tumblr at work anymore unless I go outside to get good signal on my phone so I have only been privy to what's going on here today from friends on discord. So maybe I'm missing some nuance or the what my mutuals think and I apologize in advance for that but I'm going to speak plainly.

This is the only way Watcher is going to survive.

The view counts have been steady through Mystery Files season 2 but they aren't, like, astronomical. A video with a million views nets a channel between $10,000 - $30,000. Guys. That's nothing for Watcher. They have to pay each of their 25+ employees a salary with insurance and benefits and for everything else their channel requires. Steven said in the video today that a season of Ghost Files costs hundreds of thousands of dollars. I don't think everyone is hearing that part and understanding how much money that is, especially compared to many other YouTubers they watch. I'm not an expert on other YouTubers but I look at the Sims people I watch. They are successful with views in the hundred k range because they are a company of one. Themselves and maybe paying a freelancer to help edit their videos. For one person, the stakes are lower and the potential for profit is higher! Especially for gamers that are filming in their homes. YouTubers like this, making niche content on the cheap, are who is going to make it in YouTube now.

Watcher is none of those things. They have, from day one, wanted to make high quality unscripted content. All of their shows are shows. They aren't just "Ryan and Shane do [thing]" or "Steven eats [whatever]". They are shows, like ones you see on cable TV or any streamer. And shows are not cheap. Unscripted is cheaper, sure, than scripted. But that doesn't mean cheap. Especially not with the sheer production value we've seen on all their shows, in particular Ghost Files (hundreds of thousands of dollars). That is how much something like Ghost Adventures costs, which is on Travel Channel, an actual TV network that puts up all those costs.

So. That's why Watcher has to pivot to survive.

I think it's a great idea, personally. And yes, I am in a position where I can financially afford it no problem, which I know is a privilege! I am very lucky in that regard. And I understand that many people are upset they won't see the boys as easily on YouTube anymore. That is valid! But they have openly said they are totally fine with password sharing and I think that's a great way to cut down on costs for some folks. Also right now there's a great deal on the yearly sub for early subscribers. $40 for a year is cheaper than any streaming service and it doesn't go to anyone other than Watcher.

I understand that people feel hurt and blindsided, but I think Watcher is also feeling this too. They have been so excited about this and being able to make whatever they want without having to worry about sponsors and now they're mostly seeing anger directed their way. Especially at Steven. Steven is not rich. You know who's rich? David Zaslav, a man who is single-handedly ruining Warner Brothers and making himself a billionaire while he's at it. THAT is the kind of person we should be directing our anger at streaming prices and quality of the media landscape at. Not one small business that is just trying to survive so they can continue paying their employees.

And one more thing. I've seen folks saying they'd rather watch more ads than pay and while I get that, that's not going to help Watcher make what they want. YouTube famously demonetizes videos with swears which is why I can't watch a video with DRAG QUEENS without every other line being bleeped and Watcher has been so good about not bleeping their content because they know we would hate it. And YouTube does this because of advertisers. Advertisers only want to appeal to the most broad of audiences so that means not supporting anything slightly left of center. Having to deal with ads sucks from the creator perspective and does not help them in the long run.

Anyway, this is all a bit rambling, but these are my thoughts on WatcherTV. I'm extremely excited to subscribe and make them make more Weird Wonderful World. I hope to see you all there.

[avatar-anna]

Where It All Began

Hockey Player! Harry x Figure Skater! Reader

i had this finished hours ago and then tumblr didn't save it and i wanted to throw my phone out a window.

also, i don't write smut so if it's bad say nothing 🫣

When you saw Harry on the other side of your open door, you immediately slammed it shut in his face.

"Oh, come on, princess, don't be like that!"

"Go away!" you groaned loud enough that he could hear through the door.

Harry did not go away. His head thudded against the door instead. You could almost picture his forehead pressed against it, small pout on his lips for not getting his way.

"Are you really going to ignore me? After everything we've been through together?"

No. "Yes. And stop calling me princess!" you said, a little louder this time.

"I know you love it," Harry said. "You had quite a different reaction when I said it last week. A week, princess. How long are you gonna keep me in agony here?"

The night in question was one you'd been trying and failing to forget. It was a slip, a lapse in judgement, something you didn't think about carefully before doing it, and now look at where you were. Harry had been trying to talk to you, both discreetly and not so discreetly ever since, but you'd given him the cold shoulder, for no other reason than if you stayed too long in his presence you might've slipped again.

Hooking up with your mortal enemy was a horrible idea, one you were now paying dearly for.

With a scoff, you said through the door, "Don't act like half the school isn't lined up to sleep with you. Go be with one of them."

It was one of the reasons why you tried to stay away from Harry. You didn't judge him for his alleged sexual prowess, but you wanted someone committed to you and only you. If you wanted someone, that is. Between your studies and figure skating, there was no room for relationships of any kind, especially not with arrogant hockey players. Especially not Harry Styles.

"You really want that to be it?" Harry asked, ignoring your comment. "I mean it was great, but a coat closet isn't conducive to showing off my best work. Come on, princess, let me show you some of my best work."

"Maybe I don't want to because it wasn't satisfying enough." Liar. You knew it, and he knew it too.

"The stains on my shirt from you squirting everywhere say otherwise," he said, and your cheeks heated immediately. You could hear the smirk in his voice, the satisfaction in it as he remembered how you came on his fingers. It made your core pulse, but you mentally scolded yourself.

"Nothing to say to that, huh? I thought so," he said. "I can't help it now that I'm hooked, Y/n. I need that everywhere. Can you imagine riding me when you do that? Or sitting on my face? God please sit on my—"

You finally opened the door and yanked Harry inside before slamming it shut again. "Keep your voice down!" you hissed.

If you weren't so annoyed with him, you would've noticed Harry was looking at you with hearts in his eyes, but it would be a long time before you realized he looked at you like that all the time.

But unfortunately, all you saw was his smirk, his dimples set deep in his cheeks as he looked you up and down. "It wouldn't have been a problem if you had just let me in in the first place. It's not my fault you need a physical barrier to keep yourself from throwing yourself at me."

"I—I did not throw myself at you!"

"You did, but that's okay. I liked it."

"You're infuriating!"

"And you're stubborn! And blind!"

"Blind? To what?"

With each word exchanged, Harry backed you up until your back hit your bed. There was nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide. It was either push him away or give in to him.

"Look at me, princess. I want to see those pretty eyes when I say this to you," he said, voice now hushed and gravelly now that he was in your room. You looked up, unable to ignore the command in his tone or the way it turned your insides molten.

"I want you, Y/n. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that night. Since—"

"Since?" you asked, curious why he stopped all of a sudden.

"Nevermind. The point is that I want you, and I know you want me. You can't tell me someone else has made you feel as good as I have."

No one had, and it was infuriating. You couldn't deny it, not when he was staring at you so intensely. So you fell back on your tried and true excuse. "I don't have time—"

"You think I have all sorts of free time?" Harry asked. "Both of our schedules are crazy, Y/n. All I'm asking is for you to give it a try."

"Give what a try? Sleeping together?"

Something shifted in Harry's expression, but it was back to his heated gaze before you could process it. "Yeah, princess. You need someone to take your frustrations out on? Take them out on me. Need a break from studying? I'm there. Just need someone to fuck you so hard that you forget how to think properly? Well, you saw what I did with just my fingers."

"So...just hooking up," you confirmed. "No dating."

"No dating," Harry agreed, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, the light touch sending shivers down your spine. "Just sex."

"And no one else can know," you managed to get out before finally giving in. Every cell in your body was screaming at you to kiss him, to tear his clothes off and taste him everywhere. But you had to say this first. "I don't want our friends weighing in or giving us a hard time."

"Might have to be really quiet sometimes, then. Think you can handle it?"

He was so self-assured. It was something that annoyed you to no end, but now made your pulse quicken. You were wet from the gravel in his voice alone, feeling it skitter along your skin and turning your core molten. You wanted him. It was time to stop denying yourself the pleasure he was promising you. But first, you needed to level the playing field a bit.

You kissed him, taking Harry by surprise but he was quick to recover. Shoving your hands in his hair, you threw off the baseball cap that always sat backwards on his head. He groaned against your mouth as you pulled at the roots, the sound going straight between your legs.

Hands were everywhere, and so was Harry's tongue. His mouth was on your neck, your jaw, your collar bones and chest. It was enough of a distraction to slip your hands to his waist, to flick off the button of his jeans and slide them down until they looked on the floor.

Harry stepped out of them with ease, following your lead as you turned until his back was against your bed. His eyes were heavy with lust, widening slightly as you got down on your knees and pulled his briefs down. You caught him in your hand, unable to stop yourself from licking your lips at the sight of him.

His cock was long and hard, the tip and angry shade of red, as if just blowing on it might send him over the edge. You did just that, curious to know the answer. Harry didn't come, but he made a strangled sound that made you smile. Looking up at him innocently, you finally asked him, "Can you?"

"Can I—Fuck. "Can I what, princess?"

You didn't answer right away, satisfied with making him wait. Satisfied with the moans and stuttered breaths and the harsh grip in your hair as you played with him.

Harry's cock was heavy in your mouth, and it took everything in you not to show how much you enjoyed sucking him off. Giving pleasure was something that got you off, but with him it was all dialed up. You could feel your underwear dampen as you took him further down your throat, your eyes watering as you bobbed back and forth.

Before he could hit the back of your throat, Harry's grip on your hair tightened and pulled you off him. Almost embarrassingly, you tried to reach him but he held you back.

"Can I what?" Harry repeated. His cheeks were flushed, and the look in his eyes promised a harsh throat fucking if you complied, so you did.

"Can you handle keeping your voice down too? From what I understand it doesn't seem like you can."

Harry chuckled like he was impressed, which pleased you in a way that it shouldn't have. You wanted to impress him all of a sudden. You wanted to please him.

"I guess we'll see. Get up on the bed."

You hesitated. As much as you wanted him inside you, you wanted him in your mouth more. You weren't finished yet. Or rather, Harry wasn't finished yet.

"What is it?" he asked.

You took him into your mouth again, losing yourself in the weight and feel of him on your tongue despite yourself. It was infuriating how much Harry turned you on despite how annoying he was. Mixed with your penchant for getting off and getting others off, you were a goner.

Harry's moans and the grip on your hair only fueled you. Your panties were nothing but a wet scrap of fabric at this point but you didn't care.

Before you could take him down the back of your throat, Harry pulled you off him again. In the fog of lust, you leaned for him involuntarily but he held you back.

Harry chuckled, his usual smirk not so irritating as it normally was. "A slut and a brat. I didn't know I was getting two for the price of one, but we'll work on that don't worry."

A flash of irritation came to the surface. "You're so—"

"Ah ah ah, let's get back to what you do best, yeah? If you wanna suck cock all day, by all means," Harry said, his voice so condescending you almost didn't want to, but your lust eventually won out.

You couldn't help it. You really did want him in your mouth.

"Fuck, there we go. I knew you couldn't resist for long."

"Shut up, you're ruining this for me."

"Sorry, princess, I'll let you focus. You can tap my thigh if it's too much. I have a feeling you might get carried away. Just had no idea you were such a slut for my cock."

You pinched Harry's leg instead as you worked your mouth further down his length. Hissing, he gripped your hair tight, a small warning to behave.

"What would all our friends say if they knew, huh? Everyone thinks you hate me, but in reality you can't go a whole week without my cock in you. That must really piss you off."

You breathed harshly through your nose, but Harry didn't miss that subtle squeeze of your thighs, proving him right. You could pretend all you wanted, he didn't seem to care one way or another. It probably satisfied him to no end to know that he got under your skin, that the focused, levelheaded good girl you appeared to be was a mere facade.

"You can't stand it, can you? And yet you're probably so fuckin' wet when I talk like this, huh? Dirty girl. My dirty girl. You look like a fucked out mess and you don't even care. I bet you even like it."

Harry pulled you off his cock, a small whimper leaving your swollen, drool covered lips. You looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes, too far gone to act like this wasn't exactly where you wanted to be.

"You look so cute," Harry cooed, gently wiping spit or precum from the corner of Y/n's mouth. That seemed to snap her out of her trance, and she swatted his hand away, reaching out for his length to finish him off. "Ah ah ah. I think I need to hear it first."

"Hear what?"

"How much you want this. How much you want me."

Y/n narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as she sat back on her heels, not saying a single word.

"You can sit there and bruise your knees, princess," Harry said, running a hand over his dick, smiling slightly as he watched her eyes track the movement. "Maybe I'll just come on your face and leave without getting you off. But something tells me you might like that."

Your pussy throbbed at the thought, the little traitor, though you were starting to feel like giving in was easier than resisting, no matter how much Harry might tease you for it after.

"I get off on pleasuring other people, sue me," you snapped, pointedly looking away from Harry and his ministrations.

"True," Harry agreed. "But that's not the whole truth. Come on, Y/n. You know I'll reward you for being a good girl, but if you take too long..."

Swiping his thumb over his tip, Harry leaned his head back and moaned. The veins in his neck bulged as the muscles in his stomach contracted. His whole body was flushed pink. He really was gonna come.

"Fine! Fine," you huffed barely looking in his eyes. "I—I want you."

"You can do better than that," Harry teased, still pumping his shaft lightly. "Touch yourself while you convince me. I want to see what that little pussy will tell me if you can't say it with your words."

Whimpering, you dipped your fingers beneath your panties, gasping as they grazed your clit as they made their way down to your slit. You were soaked, which wasn't news to you, but the sound of two fingers pumping in and out of you with ease told Harry enough.

"Please," you whimpered. "I want to finish you off. I want you, Harry. Please let me suck your cock."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Harry said, grinning almost evilly. "Keep playing with yourself too. But don't fucking come. I told you where I wanted you to squirt and it won't be on the fucking floor."

You moaned as you finally took him into your mouth again. He was close, his hips bucking into you frenetically. You focused on the tip, swirling your tongue over it while your hands took care of the rest. It was intoxicating, he was intoxicating. You lost yourself in the feel of him on your tongue, in the twinge of pain in your scalp as he kept a tight grip on your hair. You added a third finger to your throbbing pussy, moaning around Harry until it became too much.

"Come. Please come, Harry," you begged. "I'm so close and I—I can feel it."

Then, pulling your hand from your heat, you sucked at his tip, using the slickness of your hand to pump the rest of him before sliding back down his length. You could taste yourself on him, the sensation nearly sending you over the edge. Part of you wanted to know what Harry would do if you did come, if you disobeyed, but you figured there would be an opportunity for that. Right now, you wanted him, and you wanted to ride his face as reward for your hard work.

"God you're a fucking dream," Harry moaned, thrusting into your mouth after your little display.

He spilled into your mouth then, his cock twitching as you eagerly swallowed spurt after spurt of his cum. Harry cursed and moaned through it all, gently running a hand through your hair. You didn't want to let up, still in a trance as you tried to milk every possible bit out of him as possible.

"A slut in a good girl's clothes. Who knew," he said, chest rising rapidly as if he just did sprints on the ice.

Raising your brow, you licked your hand clean, keeping eye contact with him until he eventually brought you to your feet. Your legs were wobbly, but Harry steadied you. He kissed you hard, tongue thrusting into your mouth as if he was chasing the taste of your heat on your tongue. "If you wanted to get rid of me, you failed miserably, princess," he murmured onto your lips before hoisting you on your bed. You practically vibrated with anticipation, your pussy aching for his attention. It wouldn't take much to come since you were so close, but you figured your legs would be locked around Harry's head until he was ready to fuck you properly.

When Harry was situated on your bed the way he liked, he motioned for you to come closer. You crawled up the bed, stopping right before his face. His expression was eager as he helped you out of your shirt, his hands kneading your breasts appreciatively and tweaking your nipples until you moaned, moving your hips involuntarily.

"Don't or I swear to God I'm gonna come," you hissed, trying to hold your impending orgasm at bay.

"Hm. Another time then," Harry said. "Don't be gentle, okay? Make a mess out of me. Now move those panties to the side so I can get a good look at you.

It was the last intelligible thing either of you said for a while, you too lost in your own pleasure and Harry smothered in you, his hands guiding your hips and gripping your ass appreciatively. He moaned almost as much as you did, his tongue working over your slit, up to your clit, and down again over and over. You can rather quickly because of everything that happened before, your legs trembling as you tried to move off him. But he held you down, seating you on him once more.

"No."

"Harry, I—"

"No. You're not done coming yet. I need at least two more," he said before sticking two fingers into your hole and latching his lips around your clit.

He pumped at a bruising pace, sucking and flicking the tip of his tongue, driving tears to your eyes from the overstimulation. It was almost painful, but your hips bucked in time with Harry's fingers. And even though you'd never done it before in such quick succession, you could feel a second orgasm barreling through you. The pressure built and built, and all it took was the graze of Harry's teeth against your clit to send you over.

The pleasure was so intense you were pretty sure you blacked out. Harry's fingers didn't let up, curling into you and making you climax for the third time before you even finished your second.

You don't know if you screamed, you don't know if you stopped making sound altogether. All you knew was pure euphoria and the slide of Harry's tongue on your trembling thighs as he lapped up the messy aftermath of your two consecutive releases. His nose graze your clit, and you twitched, twitched, moaning or sobbing or begging, you couldn't tell.

"Okay, princess, time to lay down," Harry said.

You felt lighter than air as he laid you flat on your back. You were pretty sure you had pillows, but you couldn't recall how to ask. All you knew was the man beside you who knew how to make you c so hard you saw stars.

The same man kissed you before sliding off the bed and you reached for him, something you would never normally do. "Where—You—You're not staying with me?"

Harry's features softened as he kissed you again, this time on your cheek. "Gotta get you cleaned up. Gotta clean myself up for that matter. I'll be quick, I promise."

"Okay."

Harry was quick, just as he promised. A warm towel between your legs, your bed dipping, Harry's body wrapped around yours, the smell of his body wash comforting as it engulfed you—it all made your eyes heavy.

"Where are my pillows?" you finally asked, realizing you were using his arm as one instead.

"They, uh, took the brunt of your special talent, along with my face," he said, only slightly teasing.

"Sorry," you said, cheeks pinking.

"You'll never hear me complaining about that," Harry said, kissing your neck. "Might have to have that regularly. You've made an addict out of me."

You had enough energy to pinch the arm wrapped around you. "Pig."

"Go to sleep, princess. You're not you when you're high on orgasms, and I miss our verbal spats."

You didn't need to be told twice and fell asleep almost instantly. When you woke up, Harry and any and all traces of him were gone. Your pillows were back on the bed without their pillowcases. One glance at your hamper told you where Harry put them before he left.

Part of you didn't like that he left while you were asleep, but as the fog of sleep wore off and you fitted a shirt over your head, you told yourself it was for the best. Especially when a couple minutes later your roommate walked in.

"Hey, Y/n," she said as she set her backpack by her desk.

"Hey," you replied, stretching your arms high above your head before covering a yawn.

"I don't think I've ever seen you so tired in the middle of the day. Tough workout at the rink this morning?"

You couldn't help but grin, your afternoon with Harry replaying in your head. Despite the earth-shattering orgasms only a couple hours ago, you felt your core pulse at the memory.

"Yeah. Something like that."

[revelboo]

Are your shoulders tired from carrying the entire Transformers fandom right now, Rev?

Your fics are also inspiring a bunch of people?!? Nice. Love your fics, dying from the angst, but now I'm writing fluff fics while waiting for you to post hahaaha *dies*

I just started writing TF fics because I couldn’t find what I wanted to read 😆 but I’m loving that more people are starting to write stuff, too! I’ve been trying to pester a writer friend (one of the ones that convinced me to start writing TF smut originally to create a Tumblr and share her stuff, too)

Everything Is Alright Pt 107

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Your palm resting against his own, fingers lined up with his servos drives home how much smaller you are even when he’s mass displaced. How fragile. And yet you can still entrust yourself to him as he curls his other arm around you and tries to explain what he knows of how Cybertronians are sparked. How that spark can become transferred into a waiting protoform. But a hybrid spark? He has no idea if it will still work the same way. You’re so small, will the spark stay your size? Smaller than a true Cybertronian? As defenseless as you are? It’s a struggle to keep his tone calm, to pretend he’s not as scared as you are. As unsure.

• Laying your head against him as he talks, some of your tension eases at the confidence in his rasping voice. Because you really need to believe that one of you has a clue what you’re doing. And there’s still Megatron, who even though he knows you’re no pet, seems determined to force you to keep up the act and play one for his amusement. He’s dangerous. Know that, but speaking to him? You think he’s also lonely and more than a little tired. Hating that he can startle a laugh from you when he wants to, that those big hands are so gentle. That you like those rare smiles and- you like him. Stiffening in Star’s arms, you press your face against his neck, because you can’t possibly like Megatron, public enemy number one and the biggest threat to your life. “What’s wrong?” Starscream asks. What is wrong with you? You have Star and Soundwave. You’re happy with them. You can’t like Megatron, too.

• Wings flaring slightly when you don’t answer him, he takes your shoulders in his hands and pulls you back, not liking when you avoid his optics, face heating. And then hiding your face in your hands as he vents. Another weird human thing? Or something you just don’t want to talk about? Optics narrowing, he rests his helm against your forehead and waits. “It’s nothing. Really,” you murmur, head tipping to brush your mouth against his, trying to kiss away his frown. Wants to trust that, but knows you. Knows you rarely complain or ask for anything. And right now that bothers him. How can he take care of you when you won’t tell him you need something? Resting a palm against your throat before sliding it down to rest over the steady beat of your heart, his optics shutter. Grounding himself in the feel of you. Of home and hope. Won’t push, because he knows he’s terrible at this, too. But he wants to get better. To be better. For you to trust him.

• Megatron can feel Soundwave’s optics on him through the visor. Can also feel the tension in his old friend and he vents softly. “I’m not going to hurt your little human, but you’ll still bring them to me.” But what Soundwave is hinting at, proposing in veiled, cautious words? That he make his own claim upon you just to force Starscream into stopping his attempts to ursurp him is clever, because it’s tempting. And his second in command will despise it. But he knows Soundwave, knows how protective he is of his cassettes and can imagine that protective instinct extends to you as well. If you’re tied to all three of them? Shared between them? You’d be guaranteed safety. “I’ll consider it,” he adds on a growl, annoyed with himself. But when he remembers those angry eyes, the way you’d defended Starscream, arguing with him? You’d challenge him while being no real threat, a little, affectionate mate to sit at his peds while he’s on his throne. Respected and safe because you belong to him. And he remembers the way you’d looked under Soundwave. The sounds you’d made.

• Inclining his head respectfully, some of Soundwave’s tension eases. Betting on Megatron’s own loneliness. That he’ll keep demanding you be brought to him, speak with you and come to know you. Doesn’t really hope that Megatron will love you, only arranging a mating for convenience. To keep you safe whether you want it or not. Telling himself that this is necessary as Megatron strides away, but there’s a shadow of doubt in his spark. Afraid that you’ll hate him for this, won’t understand that he’s doing this all for you. For a future he’s desperate to have.

Previous

Next

[cei1ne]

—You suffer from anemia yet your boyfriends as supportive as ever, just in his own way

დ .•*”Summary: You suffer from anemia but you don’t let it stop you from becoming a hero, yet, your boyfriend’s a stubborn mess and forced you to rest.

༺ღ༒Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x GN!Anemic!Reader

☆࿐ཽ༵Tags: High school; Relationship; UA; GN!Reader

＊*•̩̩͙Warnings: Cursing?; Anemia; Overprotective boyfriend

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Word count: 3.8k

‧͙⁺˚*･A/N: Someone requested this but it was anonymous and my tumblr was bugging lately! It just got deleted but I still had lots of fun writing this and I hope you’ll have just as much fun reading this! And I didn’t know if they meant headcanons or Scenario so I just did both!

Headcanons: Katsuki Bakugou x GN!Anemic!Reader

1. Worry Masked by Irritation: Bakugou would constantly mask his concern for your condition by pretending to be annoyed. He’d grumble about you being “too weak” but would secretly go above and beyond to ensure you’re healthy.

2. Diet Control Freak: He’d take control of your meals, researching iron-rich foods and sneaking them into your diet. If you tried to resist, he’d shove a plate at you with a snarky remark like, “Eat this before I lose it.”

3. Hyper Awareness: Bakugou would become hyper-aware of your signs of fatigue or dizziness. If you so much as swayed while standing, he’d immediately drag you to sit down.

4. Loud Protector: If anyone dared to tease or question you about your condition, he’d explode (figuratively and maybe literally). “You got something to say?! Say it to me!”

5. Gentle in Private: Though Bakugou is explosive in public, in private, he’d show softer affection. He’d tuck blankets around you, carry you to bed if you overexerted yourself, and grumble softly, “Don’t push yourself, idiot.”

6. Hates Seeing You Weak: Seeing you too tired to get up genuinely unnerves him. He’d pace, bark orders, and eventually sit by your side, silently holding your hand.

7. Acts of Service: Bakugou would do small things like fetching water, helping you stand, or taking on your chores. Of course, he’d act like it’s no big deal. “You’re lucky I’m not a total asshole, huh?”

8. Research Master: He’d secretly learn about anemia from every available resource and even consult Recovery Girl or doctors. He wouldn’t tell you about it, though; he’d just start doing things that showed he knew what he was talking about.

9. Training Adjustment: He’d modify training sessions for you, subtly encouraging you to take breaks without making you feel weak. He might even offer to spar lightly to “keep you on your toes.”

10. Blunt Reassurance: If you ever felt self-conscious about your condition, Bakugou would bluntly shut you down. “You’re not weak. You’re mine, and that’s all that matters.”

Rest is for the Weak (But Not for You)

The morning started like any other. The dorms buzzed with activity as Class 1-A prepared for the day ahead. You had been one of the first to wake, though not because you were particularly eager. A familiar heaviness sat on your chest, and your limbs felt as though they were weighed down by lead.

It was nothing new. This was your normal.

“Y/N, you doing okay?” Mina’s cheerful voice rang out as she caught sight of you rubbing your temples. “You look kinda pale.”

You gave her a small smile, brushing it off. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”

“You sure? I can grab you something from the cafeteria real quick if you need it!”

“Thanks, Mina, but I’m good,” you said firmly, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself.

She hesitated but eventually nodded, skipping off to join the others. As you gathered your things and headed toward the training grounds, you could feel the weight of someone’s gaze on you.

Turning your head, you locked eyes with Bakugou.

He didn’t say anything, but his narrowed eyes and furrowed brow made it clear he’d heard the exchange. You pretended not to notice and hurried to catch up with the others, hoping he wouldn’t press the issue.

_________________________________

The training session was supposed to be routine—a series of combat drills designed to test reflexes and stamina. You had been paired with Midoriya for a sparring match, something that usually wouldn’t faze you.

But today, every movement felt sluggish. Your punches lacked their usual strength, and your dodges were just a fraction too slow. Midoriya, ever the observant one, noticed almost immediately.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re feeling okay?” he asked, concern etched into his face as he blocked one of your weak punches.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, dodging to the side as he retaliated.

But the dizziness was getting worse. Your vision blurred at the edges, and the sound of your own heartbeat roared in your ears.

“Y/N—”

“Stop holding back!” you snapped, cutting him off.

Midoriya flinched but complied, though his hits were clearly pulled. You hated it—hated the pity in his eyes, the way he seemed afraid to fight you properly. You wanted to prove you could keep up, that you weren’t a liability.

And then your knees buckled.

_________________________________

“Oi! What the hell are you doing, Deku?!”

Bakugou’s voice rang out across the gym, loud enough to make everyone pause. You barely registered the sound of his boots stomping across the floor before he was standing between you and Midoriya, his crimson eyes blazing.

“I-It wasn’t his fault—” you started, but Bakugou cut you off with a sharp glare.

“Shut it, dumbass,” he growled before turning back to Midoriya. “What the hell were you thinking, letting them push themselves like that?”

Midoriya opened his mouth to respond but quickly decided against it, his expression shifting to one of resignation.

“And you,” Bakugou snarled, rounding on you. “What the hell were you thinking? You could’ve hurt yourself!”

“I’m fine!” you snapped, trying to push past him.

But Bakugou wasn’t having it. He grabbed your arm—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks.

“You’re not fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re done. Sit down before you pass out.”

_________________________________

Bakugou practically dragged you to the edge of the gym, ignoring your protests as he deposited you on a bench. The other students watched from a distance, their whispered conversations filling the air.

“Bakugou, you’re overreacting,” you muttered, crossing your arms as he crouched in front of you.

“Overreacting, my ass,” he shot back, his tone sharp. “You’re pale as shit, and you can’t even stand up straight. Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

You glared at him, but the dizziness made it hard to keep your head up. Bakugou noticed immediately and let out an irritated sigh.

“Tch. Stay here,” he ordered before stomping off.

When he returned a few minutes later, he was carrying a water bottle and a protein bar. He shoved them at you without a word, his scowl deepening when you hesitated.

“Eat. Drink. Now,” he barked.

“Bakugou, I don’t need—”

“Don’t argue with me, dumbass!” he snapped, his voice louder than necessary. “Just do it!”

You flinched but complied, taking small sips of water and nibbling on the protein bar.

________________________________

When the session ended, Bakugou didn’t give you a choice about walking back to the dorms together. He hovered close, his sharp eyes scanning you for any signs of weakness.

“You didn’t have to walk me back,” you muttered, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment.

“Shut up. You’re lucky I didn’t carry your ass,” he shot back.

The two of you walked in silence for a while, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. But as you reached the dorms, Bakugou’s voice softened.

“You need to take care of yourself, Y/N,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.

You glanced at him, surprised by the shift in his demeanor. “I do take care of myself.”

“Bullshit,” he muttered. “If you did, I wouldn’t have to babysit you all the damn time.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the exhaustion caught up with you, and you leaned against the wall for support.

Bakugou was at your side in an instant, his hand on your arm as he steadied you.

“See? This is exactly what I’m talking about,” he grumbled. “You’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”

_________________________________

Once inside your room, Bakugou made himself at home, pulling a chair up beside your bed as you sat down.

“You’re not staying,” you said, giving him a tired look.

“Like hell I’m not,” he retorted, crossing his arms. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t do something stupid.”

You sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re an idiot,” he shot back, though there was no real heat behind his words.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the tension gradually fading as the weight of the day settled over you. Bakugou’s presence, as much as you hated to admit it, was comforting.

_________________________________

The silence in your dorm room was a strange thing. Bakugou wasn’t one to enjoy stillness, yet here he was, sitting in your chair like he belonged there, arms crossed as he glared at the wall. The occasional sound of his foot tapping against the floor was the only thing breaking the quiet.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” you said finally, unable to take the tension anymore.

“Too bad,” he replied curtly.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “You’re seriously overreacting. I just got a little dizzy.”

He turned his sharp gaze on you, the intensity in his crimson eyes making you freeze. “A little dizzy? You couldn’t even finish training without almost eating shit in front of everyone.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” you muttered, looking away.

“I’m not saying it to piss you off, dumbass,” he snapped, leaning forward slightly. “I’m saying it because you’re being reckless.”

You stared at him, surprised by the raw frustration in his voice. Katsuki Bakugou was never one to sugarcoat his words, but there was something different about the way he spoke to you now—like he was genuinely afraid for you.

“I just don’t want to hold anyone back,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bakugou’s expression softened for a moment, though his scowl quickly returned. “You’re not holding anyone back,” he said firmly. “You think I give a crap if you can’t keep up sometimes? You’re not weak, Y/N.”

The words caught you off guard. You’d always thought Bakugou saw weakness as unforgivable, that he’d look down on anyone who couldn’t match his relentless energy. Hearing him say otherwise left you speechless.

“Tch. Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink. “I’m just telling the truth. Now shut up and rest.”

_________________________________

Despite Bakugou’s insistence that you stay in bed, word of your condition had spread among your classmates, and it wasn’t long before a few of them came knocking.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Mina burst into the room, her usual enthusiasm dampened by concern. She carried a small bag of snacks, which she set on your bedside table with a flourish.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, they’re fine,” Bakugou interjected from his seat, his voice dripping with irritation. “Now get out.”

“Bakugou, be nice!” Kirishima appeared behind Mina, giving his friend a pointed look before turning to you. “We just wanted to check on you, Y/N. You scared us a little back there.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said, guilt creeping into your tone. “I just… overdid it.”

“You think?” Bakugou muttered under his breath.

Kirishima chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, we’re glad you’re okay. Just take it easy, all right? And don’t let Bakugou boss you around too much.”

“Too late for that,” you joked, earning a glare from Bakugou.

After a few more minutes of chatting, Mina and Kirishima finally left, though not without a promise to check in on you again later. As soon as the door closed, Bakugou let out an irritated huff.

“They don’t know when to leave,” he grumbled.

“They’re just worried,” you said, leaning back against the pillows. “You don’t have to be so rude.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need a damn audience while I’m trying to take care of you,” he shot back.

You raised an eyebrow. “Trying to take care of me? Is that what this is?”

“Shut up,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing again.

_________________________________

That night, long after Bakugou had begrudgingly left your room, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. His words from earlier echoed in your mind.

“You’re not weak, Y/N.”

It was such a simple statement, yet it meant more to you than you could explain. For as long as you could remember, you’d been battling the fear that your anemia made you a burden. You hated the idea of being someone others had to take care of.

But Bakugou didn’t see you that way.

You weren’t sure when he’d started paying such close attention to you, but his protectiveness was undeniable. It was infuriating at times, but it also warmed your heart in a way you couldn’t ignore.

_________________________________

When you woke the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the smell of food.

Groggily sitting up, you saw Bakugou standing by your desk, a tray of breakfast in his hands.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice still heavy with sleep.

“What’s it look like?” he replied, setting the tray down on your lap. “You’re eating before training today.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “You made this?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “It’s just eggs and toast. Not like I cooked a five-star meal.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you picked up your fork. “Thanks, Bakugou.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, looking away. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

As you ate, you noticed how he lingered by the door, his usual impatience replaced by something softer.

“Are you gonna watch me the whole time?” you teased.

“Maybe,” he shot back.

_________________________________

Over the next few weeks, Bakugou’s concern for you became an undeniable part of your routine. He started carrying snacks and water bottles with him during training, shoving them at you whenever he thought you looked tired. He adjusted his own training schedule to keep an eye on you, even if it meant sparring with someone else so he could watch from a distance.

And while he never outright said it, his actions spoke volumes.

One day, after a particularly exhausting training session, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the gym, your legs dangling over the side as you tried to catch your breath. Bakugou appeared beside you, handing you a cold water bottle without a word.

“Thanks,” you said, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip.

“Tch. Don’t mention it,” he muttered, sitting down next to you.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the sounds of the gym fading into the background. It was moments like this that reminded you just how much Bakugou cared, even if he’d never admit it.

“You’re not weak, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice softer than usual.

You turned to look at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone.

“Thanks, Katsuki,” you said quietly, using his first name for the first time in weeks.

He didn’t say anything, but the faint smile that tugged at his lips was enough.

[sp6ncers]

sunday morning — s reid

summary: reader is struggling on the anniversary of her trauma and spencer tries to comfort her.

spencer reid x fem! reader. angst, fluff? spencer's pov, 2nd person.

song: sunday morning by ethel cain

warnings/content: depression, trauma/ptsd, mentions of abuse & sexual assault (past), self deprecating talk from reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, pet names (baby, sweetheart, sweet girl, angel), non-sexual showering together, allusions to self harm but not really

wc: ~ 2.8k

author's note : hai !! this is my first tumblr fic so pls bare with me while i figure out how everything on this app works 😭 this is a very self indulgent & angsty fic because idk i just wanted to write it to make me feel better about some stuff that happened to me lolol anyway i hope u enjoy & any feedback is appreciated !!! 💞

Spencer is drinking coffee at the kitchen table, a book settled in his hands, when you drag yourself out of the bedroom. His gaze flits away from the book, falling onto your dishevelled form. You don't even look up at him, your eyes staying low as you trudge towards the bathroom, feet dragging on the floor.

His eyebrows furrow in concern, his worried gaze following your journey until the door shuts. The faint click of the lock sounds in the otherwise quiet apartment. Sliding a bookmark into place, Spencer closes his book and sets it down on the table.

He tries to think logically. Maybe you're just tired. That's a simple, normal explanation. It's not like you'd even done anything to show that something is wrong — yet his gut still tells him that. He's a profiler, after all. He's trained to read body language. And the way you had held yourself as you had passed through was a clear sign of distress.

After a few minutes, you emerge from the bathroom, your eyes somehow even more tired than before. Again, you don't look at him, and his concern only grows.

"Good morning, angel," Spencer says gently, his voice soft and almost cautious.

He gets a barely audible hum of acknowledgment and nothing more as you disappear back into the bedroom, shoulders slumped.

Worry gnaws on his bones with its sharp teeth, making his legs feel weak as he stands up and crosses the apartment to the bedroom. His knuckles tap gently against the slightly open door as he slowly pushes it wider. His eyes fall on your form, curled up small beneath the covers which rise and fall in time with your slow breathing.

Quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, he says your name. But you don't answer.

Spencer knows your struggle with depression; he's known since the third date the two of you went on. He has always been there for you, good days and bad, and he has always been patient and gentle and understanding. He knows what it's like to be stuck in your own mind, bad thoughts like a cage around you. But he's never seen you like this before.

In the time that you have been together — and the two months living with each other — he's witnessed your mental health worsen and become better. He's been by your side when you've had breakdowns and couldn't even leave your apartment. He's researched every possible way to help you feel better. He's done all he could to help you.

But what he's never seen is you so deeply distressed that you can't even say hi to him. Every morning, no matter what, you say hi, or good morning, or ask how he slept. But not today. It worries him, a deep pit forming in his stomach and swallowing him whole.

Carefully, he makes his way over to the bed and sits on the edge. The dip of the mattress beneath his weight makes you look up. He notices the redness in your eyes and the exhaustion on your face. Had you slept at all last night?

"Hey," Spencer says quietly, shifting to sit beside you. "Are you feeling okay?"

You're quiet for a few moments, and he wonders if you just don't feel like speaking today. Of course, that would be fine with him, but he'd much prefer to hear your voice.

"I'm okay," you respond, but the crack in your voice tells him otherwise.

"You sure?" he asks gently. He knows that if he asks if you're sure, you'll tell him you're not really okay. That's how it always goes. He doesn't mind it, but he always wishes you'd just tell him the first time he asks.

The room falls quiet as you push yourself into a sitting position, your back against the headboard. His eyes trace over your face and body language, taking note of the way you wrap your arms around yourself in an almost protective way. Your eyes glisten with unshed tears, red-rimmed, the dark bags beneath them prominent. The soft light filtering through the curtains shines against your damp cheeks; it would be beautiful if you weren't so upset. His heart aches, hating how utterly sad and distressed you look. He wants to take away all your pain and bury it in himself rather than in you. He would so much rather be the one suffering with whatever is bothering you than have to see you like this.

Your bottom lip quivers as you manage to force out the word, "No."

Eyes softening, he watches as you sniffle and bring your hands to your face, pressing your palms into your eyes. "What's wrong, baby? Did something happen?" he asks softly. "Or is it just a bad day today?"

You shake your head, wiping your hands down your face as tears begin to fall once again. You take a deep, shaky breath before speaking, your body shuddering as you let the breath out. "No— no, it... it, um..."

You can't seem to put your thoughts into words, your sentences fragmented and unsure. Spencer reaches out a gentle hand, resting it on your shoulder to test the waters. When you don't shy away from his touch, he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close as his other hand comes up to your hair.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Take your time."

Another deep breath, your body trembling in his embrace as you turn to bury your face against him. He doesn't mind that your tears are soaking through his shirt. He just wants to make you feel better.

"It's..." You don't finish your sentence, instead letting out a quiet sob that breaks Spencer's heart.

Of course, he's seen you cry before. But it's never been this bad. He hates the feelings that build within him, the feeling of helplessness, of being unable to do anything to make you feel better. His mind feels fuzzy, but he knows that's nothing compared to what you must be feeling. He can't even imagine what's going on inside your head right now. Instead of speaking, instead of rushing you to open up, he simply holds you tighter, rubbing your back in what he hopes is a soothing motion.

The way your body shudders against him with each shaky breath and gasping sob makes him feel sick. He wishes there was something he could do to make you feel better, but all he can think of is to just hold you close.

"I— I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice shaky and breathless.

His eyebrows furrow at your apology. Shaking his head, Spencer holds you tighter. "Why are you sorry?"

He feels the movement of your shrug as you bury yourself further against him. "I'm being stupid," you mumble, your words followed by another pained sob, the sound muffled against him.

"You're not being stupid, angel. Not at all," he assures you. "Whatever is making you feel like this isn't stupid. If it's upsetting you this much, it is not stupid, okay?"

A quiet sound, something akin to a whimper, escapes your lips as you bunch up his shirt in your fists. He knows you need something to ground you. He would let you rip his shirt to shreds if you needed to.

"I want to help you," Spencer continues softly, his hand rubbing slowly over your back. "I want to help you feel better, sweetheart. Can you tell me what's upsetting you, please?"

He doesn't mean to rush you — that's not something he would ever want to do. All he wants is to find out why you're feeling this way and what he can do to help. Seeing you like this, so hurt and broken, is destroying him. It's like a mould, creeping through his body and over each inch of him until his entire being aches.

You hesitate for a few moments, sniffling softly as you pull yourself away from where you had burrowed into his chest. Your hands are harsh as you wipe the tears from your face, fingers digging into your skin. Spencer gently takes your hands in his, pulling them away from your face to prevent you from hurting yourself.

"Hey, don't do that, please," he says gently, holding your hands in his lap and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. "I'm right here, okay? You can take as long as you need, but I'd really like to know what has you feeling like this, baby."

The breath you take in is deep and shaky, your body trembling as you sniffle. He reaches up one of his hands, cupping your cheek and gently wiping away your tears. "I love you, my sweet girl. So much. You can tell me anything, okay?"

Nodding, you lean your face into his palm and take a shaky breath. He watches you carefully, his thumb tenderly stroking over your cheek to comfort you. He knows that what you need to say won't be easy, not at all, and he knows you need a few moments to prepare yourself to say it. He waits quietly, patiently, listening to the shuddering breaths you take.

After a few moments, you finally speak. "Two years ago... I, um..."

You speak hesitantly, stumbling over your words as you try to get it out. Spencer's hand slips away from your face, trailing down your arm to hold your hand again. Giving your hand a reassuring squeeze, he stays silent to let you get this out.

"I was..." You trail off, swallowing nervously. After taking a deep breath, you wipe away your tears and attempt to continue. "I was in a relationship with a guy. He— he wasn't really, um, a good person."

The way you say it makes him nervous; his mind immediately goes to the worst possible places. He gives you another gentle squeeze, his other hand reaching up to carefully tuck your hair away from your damp, tearstained face. His touch is delicate and gentle, hoping he makes you feel better. You've barely even started explaining, but he feels his heart pounding and his throat growing tight with worry.

"We had been together for a— a few months, and... He'd, um, recently started getting kinda... I don't know. He— he'd started saying weird stuff and—"

You cut yourself off with a sniffle, blinking back more tears. Spencer can't imagine how hard this must be for you. His head is a mess, trapped somewhere between unfathomable worry and empathy for you, and anger at the fact that someone had hurt you so badly. He chews on his lip to stop himself from speaking as you brokenly explain what had happened on this day two years ago. His stomach twists, a nauseous feeling rising in his chest as you tell him how that man had violated your boundaries and ignored your protests to what he was doing. Each word is like a knife plunging into his chest, over and over and over. Each hurt little whimper as you recall the story breaks his heart further.

"He—" You sniffle again, blinking harshly as tears paint your skin. "I'm sorry," you mumble, wiping away your tears on your sleeve.

"Don't apologise," Spencer replies gently with a shake of his head as he gives your hand a squeeze. "Take your time, sweetheart."

Taking another trembling breath, you continue in a quiet, broken voice. "There were... there were bruises where h-he had grabbed me. It— it was like a reminder of what happened. I— I know that I should've... I should've ended things before it got that far, but I..." Your voice trails off. He knows what you mean. He's studied human behaviour enough to understand how abusive and manipulative relationships affect someone, making it difficult to leave.

"I just... I didn't know how. And— and I didn't really have anyone to— to go to," you murmur. "And I know... I know it's stupid to still be upset about it... But I just... I can still f-feel his hands on me, and— and I hate it. I— I can't get him off. Please get him off."

Your face crumples as you end your sentence with a sob, your shoulders shuddering. He carefully pulls you back into him, resting your head against his chest. One hand strokes your hair as the other securely wraps around you in the way he knows makes you feel better. His heart is in pieces, completely broken from what you'd told him. You haven't given him too much detail — he doesn't expect you to do that — but what you've said is enough for him to understand. He understands what happened is horrible, and awful, and sickening. He understands that you feel like you can't cleanse yourself from that awful man's touch. He understands that you might still be scared of your trust being broken again.

"It's okay," Spencer whispers, kissing the top of your head. "It isn't stupid to be upset. It's rational. It's normal. What happened to you was terrible, and I am so, so sorry you had to go through that, angel. I hope you know that it wasn't your fault. At all. And I promise you — I promise — you are safe with me."

You sniffle softly, and he can tell you're trying to control your shaky breathing. He continues to gently stroke your hair as his thumb rubs small circles on your waist through the fabric of your sweater. You shift against him, your fist rubbing at your eye.

"I'll never let anything like that happen to you ever again. I promise," he tells you softly, his voice sincere. He really hopes you know that he would never even think of doing that to you, but he understands that you might still be wary. "I love you more than anything."

It's quiet for a few minutes, the only sounds being your trembling breaths and occasional sniffles. He continues to hold you against him, trying to bring you comfort. He's glad you told him, and he hopes that you feel better now that you have, at least a little bit. His mind is a mess of emotions, but right now he just wants to focus on helping you calm down. He can deal with his own thoughts once he knows that you're okay. Sure, that isn't exactly a healthy way to deal with things, but he doesn't know what else there is to do.

"Everything hurts," you murmur, your voice muffled against him. He's not exactly sure what you mean, whether you're physically in pain or if it's just emotional turmoil, but either way, he wants to help.

"Do you want me to run you a shower?" he asks quietly. "Or get you a drink? Breakfast?"

"Shower," you whisper, your voice slightly hoarse from crying. "Please."

"Of course. Stay here."

Spencer carefully removes his arms from around you, his lips ghosting over your forehead in a soft kiss as he stands up. Heading into the bathroom, he turns on the shower and heats it up to the temperature he knows you like. After turning on the radiator and setting a towel on top to warm up, he walks back into the bedroom to find you looking much more calm than before. Giving you a gentle smile, he takes your hand and helps you up off the bed, guiding you into the bathroom.

Not wanting to overstep or make you uncomfortable, he asks, "Do you want me to stay?"

"Please," you respond softly with a nod.

"Okay," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. "Should I come in with you, or—"

You give another nod in response before he can even finish the question. Slowly, tenderly, he helps you undress, taking note of the reddish marks on your skin. He assumes they're from where you showered yesterday and desperately tried to cleanse yourself of your ex's touch, your hands harsh and uncaring as you had scrubbed at your skin. His chest feels tight at the thought.

Following suit and undressing himself, he guides you into the shower so that you're standing beneath the warm spray of water. His touch is gentle and caring as he washes your hair the way you'd taught him. He makes sure you're okay before washing your body. Whispering quiet reassurances to you, Spencer rinses the soap suds from your skin and lets you wash his hair with a soft smile on his face. Once you're both finished, he pulls you into his arms and rests his chin on the top of your head.

"Except you," you murmur, and he almost doesn't hear it over the sound of the shower.

"Hm?" he hums, not sure what you mean.

"Everything hurts, except from you."

[closetedgtaccount]

G/t Literature Megathread!

Hi! I've been a lurker in the G/t community here on Tumblr since around 2011-ish? I'm addicted to G/t literature, and I hoard it like crazy. I wanted to share this for anyone looking for something to read, or if they're new to the community. Feel free to reblog with any recommendations, or even to just promote your own stuff, because I'd love to read more!

Unstuck Together (@sizebrained)

A cute romance story between two pairs of human/borrower siblings! Lots of great fluff in this. I made sure to put it at the top because it doesn't get nearly as much attention as it should.

A Fraction of Justice (@ratcatcher0325)

Smal wannabe lawyer is (understandably) very angry at the world that treats him like an animal. Lots of amazing hurt/comfort in this, and the relationship between Alexander and Natalie is really sweet! Probably one of my favorite G/t stories out there!

The Walls Won't be There Forever / Cold Weather (@clumsiestgiantess)

I just linked to clumsiest's writing masterpost here, since I love most of their work! "The Walls Won't be There Forever" and "Cold Weather" are definitely some of my favs tho, since I probably have a preference for G/t angst lol.

Online Dating Can Be Hard (@duckit7)

I love Cam and Kate! There's roughly equal amounts of fluff and angst in this story, and I eat it up. Really like the worldbuilding too; it's a modern setting where smallfolk (Parvuses) are supposed to be treated equally to humans, but has a lot of the roadblocks you would expect. I feel like not enough stories use this kind of setting, which is a shame because it's prime for angst! As a heads up, this story is split up across Duckit's Tumblr and AO3; both of which are included in the link above!

One Shot (@narrans)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39455319

An amazing collection of G/t stories by Narrans! A lot of these stories contain some good angst, and Narrans is a great writer! I'd also recommend checking out their other series as well, such as A Tall and Small Collection. They also provide audiobook style readings of their works on their youtube channel (linked above), which has been very helpful for me when I'm at work or on walks!

[starvu]

Romantic Lover || s. reid

spencer wasn't a fan of love at first sight until he saw the new employee at his favorite coffee shop. well, things can change throughout the seasons.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

genre: fluff

content warnings: none :))

word count: 2,9k

a/n: i'm just trying to write, my english is not perfect, i'm not native, but i hope it won't bother you :)) i came up with this completely by accident when i was listening to romantic lover from eyedress (i was trying to make it pretty, but using tumblr is hard lol)

She's a killer,

one look is all it takes.

He never believed in fate, destiny or anything like that, but this time it was different. He thought, that nothing can surprise him, especially when he was buying morning, too sweet coffee in his favorite coffee shop at some late autumn, nearly early winter day. There were no leaves left on the trees, but autumn was not over yet. Winter was around the corner.

But something was worng. In fact, everything was wrong. Because he hated being late for work, which was exactly what he did. And he knew his trusted barista at his favorite, cozy coffee shop, but he was nowhere to be seen then. He always had the confidence that his coffee would be solid, with no unpleasant exceptions. Spencer loved things that were unchanging, constant, and certain, so the chance of a bad coffee on an already rushed day seemed cruel. Cruel coffee, undersweetened coffee, too little cream in coffee, something is wrong with the coffee.

But his heart clenched as soon as he crossed the threshold of a familiar place and you turned to him.

"Hey, good morning." You said casually with your enthusiasm. You had this attitude towards every client, wanting to brighten their day in the morning.

There you were, smiling all the time, with your navy blue nails, funky jewellery and a light brown apron tied in a neat bow at the back. You seemed to have within you all the energy of the sun, shine and warmth and you smelled like coffee. He stared at you for a moment, a little dazed by you. He wasn't used to it, but he focused on your eyes, the loose hair that fell out of your hairstyle and framed your face, his gaze wandering stupidly for a moment. It didn't sit well with his penchant for things that were permanent or unchanging. You cleared your throat slightly, wanting to snap him out of his reverie so he could order.

"Umm, yeah, good morning..." He played with his fingers nervously, his lips pressed into a line as he pondered over ordering coffee, even though he drank the same one every day. It didn't escape your notice.

His reaction didn't scare you in the slightest, even if he wasn't as enthusiastic as you were. You nodded as he placed his order, staring at him with a genuine smile. All your little behaviors were natural, unforced. He was nervous, but he couldn't take his eyes off you. And yet, this was the first time he'd seen you, and instead of his favorite barista.

Spencer felt like an idiot. Ordering coffee wasn't even a problem for him, with his not-so-best social skills, but after the first look at her, his stomach clenched. You unconsciously stared at him with your typical warmth in your eyes, and he felt smitten. Your energy, warm eyes and smile were really enough, even if it was stupid. He was stupid in that moment.

Then even ordering coffee became difficult, more difficult than mathematical equations, chemical reactions and biological cycles, with whom he had contact so often.

You didn't want to make things even more difficult for him, despite your smile, you didn't engage in unnecessary small talk with him. Instead, you silently scribbled your phone number on his paper cup with your glitter gel pen, you even drew a little smile next to the note. There was no rational explanation for it, you were simply captivated by that man. You turned around, fiddling around with the coffee machines a bit. You were still studying after deciding to change the coffee shop you worked at. You quickly poured the brown, fragrant drink into a cup, pouring a little more sugar into it, just like he asked.

"I would advise you to slow down a bit." You said a little bit quieter, as you gave him coffee cup, put the money in the cash register and handed him the freshly printed receipt. "Be careful, it's hot." You added as you focused more on the cash register than on him.

"Uhh, thank you?" He answered a little awkwardly, but he kept staring at you. He walked away after that, glancing back over his shoulder. You were still there, smiling at another customer. Were you real? You didn't seem real. Were you nice to him specifically, or were you nice to everyone?

It was only after he left the cafe that he noticed the note and felt almost as if he had been shot. The neat, round letters, or rather numbers written on the warm paper cup made him feel dazed. You had simply noticed him, dear God. Something tempted you to leave a trace, to indicate to him that you want to contact him. You looked at him and made a few small gestures like smiling, it's not big deal, he shouldn't have panicked or felt like a lovesick teenager. But one look is all it takes.

She's a killer,

and she took my breath away.

He called you. He called you in that early winter, and the feelings in yours hearts blossomed with the blooming flowers outside the window.

One late spring morning he woke up as usual. He woke up, but the spot next to him was cold. When he fell asleep the previous night, this spot had been warm. The night before, you had dinner together after he got back from a case, and you were just laying around aimlessly, talking about unimportant things. You listened to his rambling with genuine interest. You never said it bored you, you actually loved hearing it, even if sometimes you didn't fully understand it and needed more explanation. But in that morning you weren't next to him. He looked around his bedroom from his heavy eyelids and immediately felt relief.

He saw you leaning over the dark brown dresser, on which you had placed a small mirror. You were taking out of your makeup bag various colorful makeup things and shiny earrings. You painted your eyes with glitter, but bright and subtle shadow, put blush on your cheeks and tried to choose the right earrings. You blinked to apply mascara and closed your eyelids to draw a perfect line. Your lips were parted in concentration, and then you hold the bobby pins between your teeth. You tied her hair in a bun, braided it, unbraided it, tied your hair half up, half down and twisted locks on your fingers, even if it didn't stayed.

He didn't think you noticed him watching you. In reality, he was pretending to still be asleep. He didn't want to embarrass you, his eyes were slightly squinted, still sleepy as he rubbed them with his hands. He watched you quietly, and even if you wasn't doing anything special, it took his breath away. In a very simple way, you focused on bringing your image into order and composition.

Spencer finally got out of bed quietly, the floor in his apartment was creaky but he remembered perfectly how to bypass certain panels to pass silently. He stood behind you as you sat in the chair, he lightly placing his hands on either side of you head and kissing the top of your head tenderly, feeling yoir soft hair under his lips. "Morning, sweetheart. Don't worry, you already look pretty." He mumbled softly into your hair as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

You felt surprised when you suddenly heard the words and felt warmth and closeness. You thought he was still asleep. He raised his head slightly, looked in the mirror, and noticed that you was glancing at him in the mirror's reflection. He felt his heart fill with affection every time you looked at him.

"You think? I think it's all... I don't know, weird today." You answered hesitantly as you stared at your face and hair. Your gaze was focused on your appearance, and your expression was a little doubtful. You didn't always maintain that cheerful energy. Spencer quickly took a few steps, circling you, and leaned over you. He kissed the tip of your nose and both of your eyelids.

“No, you’re beautiful, everything is okay.” He tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You smiled warmly at him. He leaned in behind you, his posture still sleepy, which you found to be an absolutely adorable and precious sight. He rested his head on your warm shoulder. He ran his fingers through your hair carefully as you continued to apply your makeup. He kept staring at you with genuine admiration. There was silence between them, a comfortable silence. He didn't say anything, taking in your appearance, the scent of your hair, and the warmth of your skin. Finally, he buried his head in the crook of your neck. You didn't have to say much to feel each other's feelings, carefully preserved and nurtured in the quietness and privacy of his apartment.

It was almost unbelievable how much he loved looking at you. He loved looking at you, he loved your personality, he loved everything about you. It almost hurt him. Your movements, how effortlessly beautiful you looked, even if you were indecisive about how you wanted to look that day and doubtful. It was almost unfair how you could take his breath away when you did nothing and didn't even try. He felt honored to be able to watch you in your quiet, peaceful moment. You just took his breath away every time, without asking his permission.

She's a killer,

romantic lover,

there is no other,

she is my lover.

With the end of spring came a warm and certain summer. Summer is always certain, warm, sunny and pleasant. Just as with each passing day the feelings between you became certain. Because spring feelings are shy, they are born like nature to life, leaves on trees and flowers blooming. But summer feelings arouse trust and conviction.

Despite this, Spencer wanted to keep your relationship private. No, he wasn't ashamed of you or yours relationship. Having learned from the past, he preferred to keep it to them, as your little secret. He wanted to separate his relationship from his professional life, not expose you to any dangers of his job, he didn't want you to be used as his weakness one day. In his eyes you deserved this whole world and all that was kind. You deserved all kindnesses.

Unaware of anything, Derek almost fought to finally find someone for Spencer. Because how long could the young genius be alone? But every excuse Spencer made just got worse and worse, after all, he was not a master of excuses. Well, he just didn't need anyone else. You were his lover. His precious and lovely, lovely girlfriend. He always told you about Morgan's failed matchmaking attempts and you just laughed at how absurd it was.

In one of those sunny summer days when they were working a case in D.C., they went to a coffee shop, Reid's favorite coffee shop on the street corner. Crossing the threshold of the familiar place, they immediately smelled the coffee, there were no more people there than usual. Spencer immediately noticed you behind the counter, smiling as usual, wearing long, white skirt and dark blue baby tee. You were focused on making coffee and taking orders, the light blue ribbon bow pinned to your hair moved slightly with each of your graceful movements. He partially held back a smile at the sight of you, and slightly felt a sudden shiver. When you noticed him, you frowned slightly. Was this his way of hiding his relationship? Coming there with a co-worker? You immediately recognized the man he came with - Morgan. From Spencer's stories and his ramblings, you knew all of his coworkers.

Derek immediately noticed you. If he was going to keep trying to matchmake his friend, he saw another opportunity. Seeing the woman effortlessly serving customers and moving between the coffee machines and the counter, the idea immediately popped into his head. It never hurts to try, right?

As they placed their order, your expression was unwavering, you leaned slightly over the counter with a smile, not even glancing in Spencer's direction, not wanting to arouse suspicion. Their relationship wasn't public, and it hadn't started long ago, only a few months earlier. But when Morgan moved from the subject of coffee to Spencer subject without hesitation, you tried to stifle your laughter. You could see Spencer's embarrassment, god, he hated it when Derek tried to set him up again. Why is he so stubborn?

You played along.

"Oh, really? I mean, I've seen him here many times, but I haven't had a chance to talk to him much. Tell me more about him." You spoke with conviction, and Spencer surreptitiously gave you a disbelieving look. "He's really that genius?" You still pretend. You had your back turned to them and made a few coffees.

You kept up your little act until the end. Partly because it was pretty funny, partly because you hadn't yet agreed on how they wanted to reveal their relationship. You were doing quite well, considering you were playing with a profiler, you didn't arouse suspicion. When you packed the coffees into cartons with handles that held four cups, and threw the stirrers and sugars into the net, you stared at the agents. After going through everything, you pointed to the paper bag. Without thinking, you began to speak. And then you let yourself down for such a simple thing.

"Oh, I threw in two extra packets of sugar for you, Spence. Normally I would just put more sugar in your coffee, but I assumed someone else might take it." You spoke with commitment as you put the cups of warm coffee into the second carton.

"Thanks." Spencer responded with little smile. Just like you forgot about Morgan's presence.

Derek just frowned, his gaze shifting from him to you. Since they barely spoke, like you said, why the sudden concern over something as simple as sugar in coffee? Strangers? Nah, not at all. Despite his confusion, he didn't try to push the subject. You exchanged a few more small, polite conversations with them before they left the coffee shop. Pretending you didn't know Specter was, ironically, quite good. Spencer glanced over his shoulder once more, and you waved at him with usual, warm smile.

The place of the case was not far, so they returned on foot. The summer sun was pleasantly warm, and the trees by the sidewalk cast shadows and a light wind. They tried to walk as fast as they could, but for Morgan there were interesting and more interesting cases.

Derek immediately looked his way, his expression still questioning. “Okay, pretty boy, what’s this about?” He asked directly. Of course, subtlety wasn’t his strong suit.

“What’s this about, what?” Reid asked with obvious embarrassment.

"The woman. The woman from the coffee shop. Don't tell me every coffee shop employee remembers you that way. 'Spence, I threw more sugar for you." His words were all direct, unvarnished. He kind of imitated your sweet voice when he said words similar to yours, teasing Spencer.

"It's... well... she- let's just not talk about it." Spencer responded with a more hesitant, uncertain tone. He didn't know that this was how their relationship would see the light of day, but their visit to this coffee shop had to end this way, he could feel it.

"Why not, what could be so terrible about it?" Morgan asked. He sensed Spencer's nervousness and this was the perfect opportunity to tease him.

Spencer felt like his back was against an imaginary wall. All the explanations seemed awful now. Besides, he had so many excuses lately. And yes, he was running out of excuses. But now he didn't have to defend himself so fiercely. Usually he had to say no, because his friend wanted to put another woman in front of him. But now he wanted to put you in front of him. Was it possible to set Spencer up with his own girl? He quickly reminded himself that the question still remained unanswered. Usually he had a million words and two million thoughts a second. But now it was all for nothing. It was always like this when it came to you, you were the killer of any ability he had to speak or think. He swallowed hard.

"Don't be surprise, okay? I don't need it. It's, uhh... She was- I mean she is- Of course she is, not was, my girlfriend. But technically speaking, I prefer to say that I'm her boyfriend and not that she is my... girlfriend." His explanations became a bit convoluted, and he started babbling a bit out of nervousness.

Morgan didn't take his eyes off him, his sudden statement was... surprising to say the least. When had he managed to find himself a girlfriend and hide her and their relationship so well without arousing any suspicion? "Girlfriend? Real girlfriend? Look at him." He patted him on the back in a brotherly gesture, and Spencer just bowed his head with a sheepish smile. "For how long? Why didn't you tell anything?"

"Oh no, don't interrogate me."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I'm not."

"Come on, pretty boy. Talk to me... or rather lover boy." He laughed and pat his shoulder with his free hand. Oh god, he loves to tease him.

Spencer sighed. "Yes, real girlfriend."

"No need to be embarrassed, that's good, really good. So no more matchmaking?"

"No, no matchmaking, ever." He still smiled sheepish. Spencer didn't want anyone else, he didn't want matchmaking, he didn't want to look for anyone else, when he had you. There is no other, you are his lover.

[reiding-writing]

Are u willing to do a fic about an unsub!reader with early seasons Spencer? Like, the BAU has to team up with the unsub to catch another criminal with a similar M.O. to them and hijinks ensue (could be angsty hijinks or could be general scooby doo type situations) Idk!! I really like ur works and I've been thinking about this thing for days but my ass sucks at writing lol ;;

copycat—s.reid [1]

Summary:

The replication of a disturbing 2004 serial murder case calls for the BAU to get involved with the assistance of none other than the original killer themself. And whilst Spencer didn’t work the original case, he was eager to learn every detail about it, including its offender.

WARNINGS: made up murder case, graphic depictions of violence, implied suicide (actually murder), mentions of spencer’s addiction, sociopathic reader

s3!spencer/gn!unsub!reader || mystery || 4.5k || masterlist!!

part one !! , part two !!

unsub!reader masterlist!!

a/n: sorry to the person who requested this because tumblr deleted the actual ask but i did have it copied so at least it wasn’t completely lost 😭😭😭

left it here because people tend not to want to read really long fics. if people want a part two i will gladly oblige but otherwise its a decent stand alone to see how spencer would interact with an unsub like this

“James Harden, 23, was found two days ago on the bench of a public park in Los Flores, Orange County,”

The BAU team, barr Hotch, all settled in their seats as JJ arrived in the room.

JJ pressed a button on the small remote in her hand, two photos, one of each wrist of the victim, appearing on the screen behind her. “Both wrists had been slit, and the cause of death was concluded to be blood loss,”

“So, why are we being called in exactly?” Morgan raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from his coffee. The team was *tired*. They’d only gotten off a case three days before, and they were all in need of a break.

“Well, if you’d allow me to finish,” JJ shoots Morgan a pointed look to which he promptly raised his hands in surrender.

JJ presses the remote again, images of the victim’s wrists being replaced with images of his face.

There was a mix of reactions from the group, all of which perturbed, but some with more intent than others.

His head was laid limp over the back of the bench, his face pale and his lips white from the lack of blood flow to his head. Nothing they hadn’t seen before.

His eyes however, were a different story, covered up by a pair of red roses that had seemingly had their stems forcibly pierced into the victims eyeballs, leaving a trail of oxidised blood down his cheeks.

Morgan and Garcia shared a concerned glance that they simultaneously turned towards JJ, who matched their expression with her own.

“They didn’t-”

JJ shakes her head at the beginning of Morgan’s question, and Emily and Spencer share a confused glance that they turn towards their three teammates who seem to be locked in a silent conversation that only they understood.

“I feel like i’m back in high school again,” Rossi pipes up at the three from his seat, inadvertently calling them out on their exclusion of Emily, Spencer, and Rossi from their conversation.

JJ sighs as she adverts her eyes towards Rossi, her shoulders sagging slightly. “We worked a case in 2004…” She hesitates to elaborate any further about the details, and Spencer takes the opportunity to voice is own curiosity.

“You didn’t solve it?” He tucks his hair behind his ear, eyes glistening slightly as his eyebrows furrowed in JJ’s direction.

It’d been three years since 2004, and the idea that an UnSub could go postal for that long with an FBI target on their back was- something, to say the least.

“No, we did-” Garcia nods her head determinedly, her eyes lingering on the screen as if she was more focused on the images than the conversation.

“So, a copycat then?” Emily adds her part to the conversation, clearly concerned for her friend’s wellbeing.

“Most likely,” JJ nods her head sharply, looking back at the screen once more. “There’s only been one recorded victim so far, but we want to stop whoever is responsible before anything else happens,”

“Are you alright Garcia?” Emily’s eyes remain fixated on Garcia’s face, her usually upbeat persona dwindling into something more solemn.

“Hm? Oh, yes, of course my love bug, i’m alright,” Garcia shoots Emily a small smile as if to emphasise her point. “It was the first case I ever worked on is all, they just… stick with you ya know?”

Emily nods softly at her explanation. She knew what it felt like to have your first case stick in the back of your mind.

“Alright settle down everyone,” Hotch’s voice echoed through the conference room before he even stepped inside, and the team all diverted their attention towards him.

“I trust they’ve been briefed?” Hotch looks towards JJ, who gives him a nod before stepping aside so that he can take her place at the head of the table.

Hotch walks into the conference room with someone at his side. Someone who makes Morgan’s hand clench into fists and the small hint of optimism that Garcia had managed to keep fizzle from her eyes.

“You can’t be serious.” Morgan’s voice was stern and challenging as his eyes narrowed in Hotch’s direction. “Hotch-“

Hotch halts Morgan’s attempt at a rebuttal with his hand, raised in Morgan’s direction as he knits his eyebrows into a line. “They will be a valuable asset to the investigation.”

“You can’t bring a psychopath in here and expect us to just go along with it-” Morgan’s argument was interrupted by your voice from where you stood behind Hotch, hands clasped together behind your back.

“Sociopath.”

Morgan’s expression furrows further if that’s possible, eyes staring daggers at your face. “Close enough.”

“Actually, Psychopaths and Sociopaths are fundamentally different, with the only real similarity between the two being an extreme lack of human empathy,” Your eyes flicker towards Spencer as he corrects Morgan’s assessment, raising an eyebrow in his direction out of intrigue.

“Either way, you cannot expect me to be okay with working alongside a serial killer.” Morgan’s eyes don’t stray from Hotch’s as he speaks, not backing down from his standing.

“I don’t expect you to be. But that doesn’t change the fact that they will be joining us for this investigation.” Hotch’s tone marks the end of the debate, one that Morgan knew he’d lost before it even started.

Hotch gestures for you to take a seat at one of the empty chairs and you oblige, leaning the side of your left foot on top of your right thigh and relaxing back into the swivel chair as Morgan’s eyes bore holes into the back of your head.

The fact that you were even here was enough to spark the embers of rage in the back of his mind.

The fact that you were walking around freely with no restraints was even worse.

“For those of you who weren’t present, in 2004, the BAU team was called out to Malibu to investigate a series of murders that littered the city.” Hotch’s eyes flicker over to where Emily, Rossi, and Spencer were sitting.

“Eighteen people were killed over the span of ten days, crossing age, gender, and race boundaries typical of a normal M.O, with the only link being two roses in place of the victim’s eyes.”

Hotch’s eyes turn towards the images on the screen, yours following his own as you examine the photos with a small huff. “Are you sure that is person is copying me and that it’s not just a coincidence?”

“Putting roses in peoples’ eyes isn’t something we see in the field every day,” Hotch’s explanation is blunt and straight forward.

“My roses were white.” You tilt your head at him with a raised eyebrow. “That’s a pretty stark difference to just ignore.”

“Maybe he’s trying to make a name for himself,” Spencer throws the idea out into the air at your observation, seemingly undeterred by your criminal history now that his head was submerged in the case.

“Then be original.” You face furrows with a roll of your eyes. “Don’t copy somebody else’s idea, it’s not that hard,”

“That’s enough,” Hotch’s voice cuts through the conversation, his arms crossed over his chest. “We’ll discuss the details on the plane.”

Hotch picks up one of the open files on the table and tucks it under his arm. “Wheels up in thirty, i’ll meet you all there,”

A gesture of his head for you to follow him later, and he’s exiting the conference room with you on his tail.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You walk right past Hotch’s seat as you board the jet, opting to take a seat directly opposite the genius doctor that had managed to capture your attention in the conference room.

He looks up awkwardly as you sit down, not exactly sure what he’s supposed to do. Should he start a conversation with you? Should he continue reading his file and pretend he can’t feel your eyes pouring over his features like you were sizing him up.

He doesn’t have to think for too long.

“What’s your name?” Your tone lacks any social grace, but he supposes he can’t blame you. It’s not like it’s your fault you don’t feel or express your emotions in the same way that the majority does.

“It’s- uh- Spe- Spencer,” His awkwardness really shines through his tone, left hand scratching at his right elbow as a self-soothing strategy.

Two seconds into a conversation and he already wants to dig himself a hole and hide in it for the rest of eternity.

“Spencer Reid- Doctor Spencer Reid,” He purses his lips into a line once he’s settled on his full title, but it doesn’t stop him from blurting out more in his effort to get all of his thoughts out of his head. “Spencer’s fine though…”

“Doctor? Of what?” You skirt past his awkward introduction in your pursuit to know more, and he’s grateful that his completely lack of social skills doesn’t scare you off like it would most people.

“Well- I have PhDs in Mathematics, Engineering, and Chemistry,” Spencer tucks his hair behind his ear, his file falling over the side of his lap into the gap between his leg and the arm of the chair. “But i also have bachelor’s degrees in Sociology and Psychology,”

He shuts himself off after his over-winded explanation with a purse of his lips in your direction.

“I have a bachelor’s degree in Psychology,” Spencer’s eyes practically light up at your words, completely forgetting that you’re a convicted serial killer and instead hyper-fixating on your academic interests.

“Really? Did you do a Bachelor of Arts or Science?” You can almost feel the enthusiasm radiating off of his body as he leans forward in his chair slightly.

“Science,” You tap the side of your head with your finger and Spencer thinks he understands. It’s the same reason he studied psychology himself.

Because he was different.

Because his brain worked in different ways than other people.

He couldn’t even imagine how much more severe it was for somebody like you.

“How do you know so much?” Your tone isn’t chastising. It’s not questioning his knowledge because he’s ’too young’ or ‘doesn’t look like someone who would be an expert’ in niche academic areas. You genuinely just wanted to know.

“Well- I have a 187 IQ and an eidetic memory,” You’re eyes followed his as he explained his intelligence to you, chasing them to ensure the two of you maintained eye contact. “And I have a reading speed of 20,000 words per minute,”

You hum at his answer, seemingly satisfied as you lean back in the jet seat.

The silence between you doesn’t have time to get awkward before Hotch is calling the team’s attention to go over the details of the case thus far.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Spencer spends most of his first night in Los Flores on a laptop.

Garcia almost has an aneurism when he asks her if he could borrow one of hers.

It takes him almost 30 minutes to figure out how to use it, face lit by the harsh white light of the screen and softened slightly by the warm yellow of the lamp on his hotel bed’s side table.

Once he manages to pull up the internet browser he spends the next multiple hours researching. Pouring over every news article and journalist report that he can about the 2004 Malibu case that had you in its centre.

The 2004 ‘Malibu Rose Killer’. One of the most prolific serial killers in California’s history.

Eighteen people dead in just ten days. An extremely rapid escalation that held no victim pattern of any kind.

A spree that only stopped when the police found both of your adoptive parents dead after a welfare check concerning your father not turning up to work. Your two first victims.

You’d told the courts that it was a manic breakdown. A symptom of your previously undiagnosed sociopathy. That you weren’t in your right mind when it happened.

It worked to a degree, swerving you of a death penalty, but the fact that your parents’ crime scene had shown signs of recognition for your actions halted your defence quite a bit.

Instead of slitting their radial artery and leaving them to bleed out, you’d severed their spines from the brain stem whilst they slept.

And instead of piercing their eyeballs with two roses, you’d instead chosen to lay one in between their two bodies instead.

That was enough for the prosecution to say you had at least some knowledge of the severity of your actions, and so instead of being carted off to a psychiatric prison you were left in a regular old high security prison to serve two consecutive life sentences for the murder of your parents with an annual mental assessment.

He assumes that’s why you agreed to be here. To gain a lenience on your sentence.

He didn’t know why he found your story so fascinating, but he knew that he’d only be able to refrain from asking you questions for so long.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Spit it out.” Your words snap Spencer out of his thought-filled dazed, blinking at you as he slowly regains his senses.

“Huh?”

“Spit it out. Whatever you have to say to me.” Your tone, as he’s come to expect over the last few days, is very flat and straight to the point, clearly agitated at his eyes lingering on you for what you’d deemed too long.

You walk around the small table at the Orange County’s Los Flores police station with your arms crossed, confined there for the majority of the case as to not possibly initiate any ‘aggressive urges’ that might spawn from seeing a replica of your past crimes.

Spencer’s left hand absentmindedly scratches at his right elbow at your glare, clearing his throat and averting eye contact with you, both out of embarrassment of his unintentional staring and self-preservation towards your proclivity to get angry without real aggravation. “I- It’s nothing really,”

Your head tilts at him, your eyes telling him enough that your patience was waining and that you would get whatever he was thinking about out of him.

“I uh- did some reading… about your case-” Your expression morphs into an emotion that he can’t quite place at his confession, and he feels an overwhelming pressure to keep explaining himself as well as to just sew his mouth shut so he can’t say anything.

“And?”

“And… um- there was a part about it that didn’t really make sense to me,” He’s thrown himself in the deep end now, any hope of changing the topic of conversation long gone as he watches your eyebrow quirk in curiosity.

“Your parents…” Spencer’s eyes scan your expression intently as he mutters out the words, gauging your reaction to his words before he dares to continue.

“What about them?” You remain indifferent if not mildly compelled by the line of thought running through his head, and he’s internally relieved that he hasn’t pressed any of the wrong buttons in your fragile emotional state.

“Why?” Spencer mirrors the short, straight to the point wording that you seemed to be so fond of, and he can see you blank expression waver slightly at the question, like you weren’t sure how to answer it.

He watches the wrinkle in your brow become more prominent, how your eyes seem to loose focus and flicker around the room, the way you subconsciously shift from one foot to the other.

He’s not entirely surprised by your reaction. Sociopaths were very capable of harbouring emotions like everyone else. Anger, happiness, sadness, love, and even fear. Even if the intensity of them and the way they were expressed was different.

Right now your expression read as confusion mixed with mild apprehension, like you were considering whether or not you wanted to answer his question.

You still didn’t seem angry, which he was grateful for. He might have been a qualified agent, but that was with the exception of him not having to pass a physical examination.

And he really didn’t want to risk having to physically defend himself against someone who managed to kill eighteen people in the span of ten days because he’d accidentally said the wrong thing.

“They didn’t deserve to live with the knowledge of what I was going to do,” You tone is a lot less apathetic as you come to your answer, stopping intravenously to collect your words.

Spencer’s eyebrows furrow at your answer, not quite sure what to make of it.

“My turn,” Your eyes scan Spencer’s facial features, watching how Spencer’s eyebrows raise as you don’t give him time to compute your answer. “Do your higher ups know you’re an addict?”

The question is blunt, clear, and lacks any subtlety whatsoever despite the two of you technically being in a public place, even if you were the only people in the room.

Spencer’s eyes snap towards yours, surprise written all over his face. “You- I- Uh-“ His mouth falls open and closed like a fish as he tries to string a coherent sentence together, blinking at you with wide eyes.

How did you know that?

He falls short of an answer to your question, his eyes questioning you silently.

“Does your team know?”

Spencer shakes his head slowly. “If they do no one’s ever mentioned it..” He doesn’t know why he’s exposing himself to you like this, but theirs something in the look your giving him that tells him that he can’t lie to you.

“What great friends.” Your voice is practically dripping in sarcasm, and Spencer can’t help but subconsciously agree with you.

He’d waited and waited for someone to recognise that something was off with him. That he wasn’t all there.

But instead of it being one of his coworkers, some of which he’d known for years, it was a sociopathic serial killer that he’d known for 37 hours and 16 minutes.

Lucky him.

“They have more important things to worry about,” His hand returns to scratching at his elbow through his shirt, clearly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.

You raise your eyebrow at him, clearly intrigued by the misfortune riddling his life; Almost as if it was a private viewing of a feature film made solely for your entertainment.

“Stop doing that.”

Spencer raises his eyes towards yours once more at your words, wide and glossy and making him look like a pathetic little puppy who’d been told off for tearing up a couch cushion.

You wonder how deep that patheticness goes.

“Don’t scratch. It’s annoying to watch and it’ll make your withdrawals worse.” You depart from the room before he can give you an answer, shutting the door harshly behind you as you spot Hotch in the main foyer of the station.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I’m bored.” You swing your legs over the edge of the table you were sat on. You’d spent the last four days confined either to the hotel room you were sharing with Hotch or the small meeting room the OCPD had reserved for the BAU during the case.

You wanted a change of scenery. Desperately. You could only deal with monotony for so long.

At least back in your cell you activities you could engage in.

Instead you were just stuck as a fact checker for the details of each victim.

Five people had died now. Following your victim pattern to a T.

The first a young white man. The second a middle aged white woman. The third a male black college student. The fourth and fifth a young gay couple.

It agitated you. What happened to originality? Get your own random victims.

“You can accompany Morgan and I to the coroner’s office,” Spencer offered you a pursed smile at his suggestion, partly because he knew you’d be able to see more differences between the originals and recreations in person than through photos and partly because he wanted to crack you open.

He wanted to know everything about you. He wanted to know what made you tick. How you rationalised your crimes. How your sociopathy developed.

He was in deep. And his brain wanted answers.

“Absolutely not.” Morgan shot down the idea immediately with a stern shake of his head. “There is no way in hell we are bringing them with us,”

“They might catch something that we won’t be able to,” Spencer’s rationalisation wasn’t exactly wrong. Even in copy cat murders the offender always left a piece of themself behind. Something of their own personality rather than the killer they were trying to replicate.

It could be so tiny that no one would recognise it. Apart from the original offender of course.

“They might catch the bright idea to try and attack somebody.”

“Oh please-“ You roll your eyes at Morgan. “If I was going to have another mental break at seeing a recreation of my past endeavours I would have had it already,”

Morgan narrows your eyes at you calling your murder spree your ‘past endeavours’. You hadn’t published a book or painted some mural. You’d killed eighteen people.

“Reid’s right,”

He doesn’t have time to get angry at you.

“Hotch-“ Morgan looks completely betrayed.

“There’s only so much they can do to help us from here. We want to stop this before anyone else gets hurt.” Hotch’s tone is stern, leaving no room for argument.

“And if they do spiral out of control,” Hotch’s eyes flicker between Morgan and yourself. “I trust you’ll be able to take care of it.”

Morgan mutters something under his breath about ‘stupid hierarchies’ and how much he hated your guts as he left the meeting room with a huff, although more composed than you thought he’d be.

“Are you ready to leave?” Spencer’s question snaps you out of your revelling over Morgan’s distaste for you, although your small smile of satisfaction doesn’t falter as your eyes meet Spencer’s.

“Let’s go Doctor. I’m ready to get out of this beige abomination.”

You push yourself off the table and leave out of the same door that Morgan had, Spencer following closely behind you.

He was oddly grateful about your decency to respect his title, and it only made him want to read you like a book even more.

- part two !!