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

[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.

[frostbitedoesart]

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.

[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.

[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."

[tarjapearce]

Lips anon! Dark King Miguel and the gentle princess. The original one except Miguel is the king you dread to marry. Even more so when you meet him. He's a hulking man adorned with obsidian armor laced with gold. Cold piercing red eyes. If you weren't terrified, you would have seen how handsome he was, and that his gaze was filled with intrigue rather than hatred.

He takes your hand in armored claws, and kisses it. Now you blush.

You were to spend a good chunk of time in the palace with him until the day of the wedding. At first it's a nightmare because you are with someone who's slaughtered thousands of men, but he's gentle with you. Not exactly kind. But gentle.

Oh oh, imagine she took a little diary with her. She records her time in his lands, and he finds it while snooping in her room (checking for any weapons and such). He reads it and finds quite a bit about her. He rolls his eyes at the passage of her describing her dream man, but he is very intrigued about her wanting a bunch of children. He can give that to her, he wants many heirs too 🤭

Im such a sucker for these sort of tropes :'D ❤️❤️❤️ (Had to write this twice cause Tumblr erased the draft midway 😭😭)

You fretted in your chambers.

Despite the kingdom's overall economy and exterior political relations were thriving, the feeling of wariness set heavyly on your chest. The Queen and King had forbidden your stay at the most recent council's meeting, and when you demanded an explanation, you were met with nothing but silence and pained looks.

"Your Majesty! Come back here! You can't go inside!"

"They are hiding something from me, Lucille. I know it!"

"But you just can't interrupt!" Your maid and friend had been trying to prevent to get in the throne room. She caught your arm and looked solemn for a moment.

"You... You too?"

She shook her head and sighed, pulling you to a more private spot.

"You must be very quiet, ok?" Lucille guided you through a secret little passageway you didn't know the castle had. Hidden in plain sight that took you exactly where you wanted, a small hole on the wall enough for you too take a glimpse of the room.

Sparse, war table on a side, some guards you couldn't recognize stood next to a chair, partially revealing who sat in it. You could only get a small reveal of his arms. Dark skinned, strong arms clad in obsidian and golden that ended in a claw like gauntlet.

"Your Majesty" Your dad spoke, a slight tremor in his voice, "I think we are rushing into conclusions, ser. You'll see our men-"

"I don't want your men, neither your women. My army is more than enough and if I wished, your kingdom would be wiped out at my command."

You father stressed kn his chair as your mother just watched with keen eyes the display of power.

"We might not be a large kingdom, your majesty-"

"You're right, ser. You're like a tiny and annoying stone that got in my greaves, but I have had enough bloodshed for now"

"T-Then what is it you want, your majesty?"

You frowned at the armored man's attitude as dread crept up your bones. His gauntlet curled on his head, pondering as he slicked his soft, wavy and dark locks back.

"Surprise me, your majesty" He sneered the two last words and you swallowed.

"I will give you the most precious thing I possess, your highness." Your mother spoke confidently as her eyes were casted at the man.

"Being?"

"My daughter. The princess."

Lucille gasped and you quickly covered her mouth. His ears perked at the sound and tensed, but ignored it since he just chuckled.

"I came here in order for you to understand why I need the West passage of your borders open, not to get married." He stood and it was yout time to gasp at the size of him. He looked gigantic, your father had to crane his head up to meet his eyes.

"Think about it, your highness." Your mother pressed as she also stood.

"We can't open the passage due to political differences between our Kingdom and Erunia. It's closing wasn't to meddle in your affairs, but more like a preventive solution in our safety, in case an invasion happened. The least of things we would want is another war against a powerful kingdom we know we have no chance against. "

The obsidian clad man seemed to pay attention to your mother's words

"Sure, our Kingdom is thriving again, and economy and politics seem promising, but you must also understand we have nothing much to offer you when we are still recovering from a war. We still mourn, and we are getting on our feet again."

Your throat tightened upon her mentioning mourn. Your brother, the prince had died in battle.

"And for me to offer you, this kingdom's most precious jewel... I'll leave it to your interpretation."

The man seemed to relax slightly. Political things weren't your strength but, you didn't have to be a genius to know that tension had been rising within the neighbor kingdoms. Yours was a small one that served as a bridge among the others. Without you, the rest would collapse bit by bit.

"I offer you protection, in exchange of your daughter."

Tears welled up in your eyes. They were using you like an object. The deal was sealed, and so was your fate.

------

You had refused to see your parents after that, your mother had explained that it was for the kingdom's best interest.

"But what about me? I know that is selfish to think this way but, this is not what I want."

"It's not about what you want, more like what must be done. Your duty as a princess is to see for the people's interest, my dear. Our wishes matter little when the men think it's funny to play war."

"But mother, how could I possibly marry someone like that? Arachne kingdom is ruthless! And so is it's ruler!"

"We had no choice, my dear. Your brother... Im sure your brother would have chosen to try and wage a war against him to keep our autonomy... There is enough bloodshed as it is for now." She cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead.

"Besides, he is not that bad. He was... civil and wise enough to hear us. And now, thanks to you we have his protection and a new chance of being the kingdom we used to be."

-----------

You were set to depart to Arachne's kingdom within two weeks, and you made sure to enjoy the last bits of your freedom in your home. The wedding was set within 3 months. Or so the dark scroll the mysterious man had sent, said.

And when that day arrived, your carriage departed between sobs, anguish and heartfelt goodbyes. You didn't like the feeling of being seen as a martyr, but it gave your people hope.

----

If you had to describe Arachne's beauty you'd settle for twisted. A contradiction of many types of beauty melded in a single space. The outskirts were full of thorns so thick you thought your carriage would be crushed before even reaching the castle, but the more your caravan approached, the sceneries changed into something less harrowing to a more utopic sort of settling.

Tall towers stood proud in the different cities, but one thing you couldn't help but notice were the elite guards. Mostly clad in a light armor, red and blue, a spider-skull like emblem on their chest. You weren't allowed to bring Lucille with you, a strange petition from this... Miguel King.

Miguel O'Hara. Ruler of Arachne. Commander of an elite force with abilities that surpassed the common guard forces. Many said it was his secret to get him where he was. Despite the rumors about the kingdom being desolated and hunger stricken, witnessing the opposite with your own eyes made your heart a little hopeful.

After all he had sent a small crew of four to guard you during the trip. A blonde girl with a left side of her head shaven, a tall dark young man with braids on each side of his head slicked back with a look that pierced your soul, Another black man with many perforations in his face, with the strangest hairdo you had seen in someone, and their commander. A tall, black slender woman with a red and obsidian armor. None of you talked during the trip. But the pierced face young man and the blonde girl offered you small, almost sympathetic smiles your way.

----

Your arrival at the castle was announced. Your four escorts guided you to the main hall and kneeled before the man you had only caught a minimal glimpse of. Red eyes regarded your form, clad in a emerald green with golden trims dress.

You could notice his eyes widening just slightly as you entering the room. And then he stood. Your breath was caught in your throat and just as your father, you had to crane your head up to meet his eyes. Captivating yet full of unspeakable things. But you were certain, hatred wasn't one of them, rather wonder. He stared at you with mild curiosity.

You revered before him.

"Princess (Name) of Theleria, at your service, my lord." Sweet and soft spoken. A stark contrast of his overall aura. He noticed the small tremor in your hands and chuckled.

"Welcome, Princesa." Despite his imposing and intimidating looks, his royal etiquette shone through.

"Make yourself at home" Or so it did it's best. He returned to his work. He wasn't much for words as you were escorted to your own chambers. You certainly were swooned by the place grandeur and the elite force you had heard so much.

"Your Majesty sends his apologies, he won't be able to meet you during dinner. Would you like to eat on your chambers, or in the dining hall?" The man wore another red and blue armor, you had noticed that only commanders wore a certain type of armor.

"In my room, ser. Thanks."

He nodded with a smile and left. Your room was enormous, easily mistaken for a whole wing. You had dinner in your room.

--------

"Where is she?"

"In her room. She preferred to eat inside."

"Hm." Miguel hummed as he spreaded some map before him. Peter looking at him.

"Want me to arrange a tea meeting with her?"

Miguel's nose scrunched and he shook his head.

"Make it a lunch. I don't like tea."

"I know, coffee guy. You think her parents will keep their word?"

"They better, if not, we'll wipe them."

"Wouldn't that be harrowing for your future bride?"

Miguel arched an eyebrow at him

"Merely political affairs."

"She's pretty"

"Hm and gentle. You know what happens to gentle people."

"They get an arranged marriage with a ruthless belicist of a king." Peter couldn't help but giggle at his mortified expression.

"One more-"

"And I'm out. I know, I know pal. Get some rest. Your eyebags are packing for vacation already" Peter smiled at his annoyed sigh, then left him be.

-----

The lunch never came, as you were stood up, again. You had expected much, after all it was an arranged marriage, of course the desire of knowing eachother just for pretense was only in your imagination. However you had noticed that his gaze lingered on you for more than he actually let on.

You had been sorted through the city, to meet it's people, and so far mostly looked happy? Children ran around a fountain, merchants exposed and sold their goods, art supplies and a small leathery notebook, caught your attention. The extense array of colors had you grinning and marveling at things you had never seen before. Charcoals, complete drawing kits, turpentine, canvas made out of the richest materials.

Arachne's people were kind, welcoming and it just made you wonder how such kind of people had a blood thirsty man for a king? Not that he intentionally waged wars just for fun and giggles. Peter watched you with a lazy smile, occasionally recommending things to try. He and the blonde girl, whose name happened to be Gwen, we're kind enough to answer each of your questions. You didn't dare to ask about Miguel. He seemed too busy to be disturbed and by the way his face was always set in a permanent frown, made you wonder how would things would be in your wedding day.

He was aloof, too buried in his own world of War and battles. You couldn't help but nod with an absentminded expression at Peter saying he won't be for dinner either.

"Of course." That's all you uttered before you returned to the castle and retreated to your room. Your chest constricting tightly.

-----------

"You know, getting any sort of contact with her wouldn't hurt you." Peter spoke as he was polishing his gauntlets.

Miguel remained silent, eyes too focused on the scroll before him.

"How was the trip?"

"She was like a kid in a candy store when we stopped in an art shop."

"Something she liked?" Peter smiled and scrubbed the wax away from the gauntlet

"Paintings and art supplies. She loved the cherry pie and couldn't stop marveling at how dreamlike the city looked"

"Hm. Her kingdom is... small. Nothing much to look around. Anyways, get her what she liked. "

"Beg your pardon?" Peter blinked at him

"Told you to get her what she liked."

"Of course. "

-----

The following days you were either holed up in your bedroom, or in the gardens making small talk with the servants. They seemed good and easygoing people, and it kept you from giving into the loneliness feeling that seemed to loom over your head with each passing day.

Sometimes you'd caught glimpses of him, a small group of elite soldiers tailing behind him in scary synchronization. Your eyes would meet for seconds, but he'd just look away and continue his work.

At this point you knew what the apologetic look on Peter or Gwen meant. He wasn't showing up.

"I'm sorry."

"Have I done something to... upset him this way? To the point of him maybe finding my company repulsive? "

Peter seized you with a frown.

"I know he is a busy man, wars don't wage on their own, I know much. But..." You shook your head and sighed, "Nevermind that. I'm just being pretentious. Bid you a good evening, ser Peter."

You bowed to him and left to your room. You had refused kindly your dinner.

---------

The next day a couple of guards entered your room as you were writing a letter for your parents. They saluted Peter and left.

"Your Majesty." He bowed and guided your to the medium sized wooden box.

"A gift from the king" Your eyes widened in surprise, your cheeks growing a bit warmer.

"Thank you, ser Peter." You smiled and rummaged through its contents, small squeal upon looking at the leathery notebook you had seen before. Peter left and you wasted no time into enjoying your gift.

Papers, watercolors, oil paints, colored waxes, painting brushes, paint remover, it felt like a dream. Your chest felt giddy at the idea that showed up in your mind.

-----

You gave Peter a small box with something you had done.

"Ser Peter?"

"Yes, your majesty?"

"Could you give this to the King?" You handed him a small velvet pouch. A small canvas in it.

"Do you think he would like it?"

"I'm sure he will, your majesty" Peter smiled.

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

Miguel took the pouch suspiciously, but his eyes widened at the small painting of himself with a small piece of scroll. A fancy and curvy scribblings on it

Thank you for your kindness, my lord.

Your penmanship impeccable, years of princess etiquette and training reflected on it. his lips curved a bit. You had gotten a good angle of him.

---------

He snuck in your room as you had gone to the city with Peter and Gwen again. This time, the man with the pierced face came along.

He didn't expect it to be so you. Paintings you did, dried on the window, drawings of things that caught your interest the most; cherries, birds, nature, and kids. Not that he didn't trust you, he just wanted to see with his own eyes what you had done so far with his gift.

He was glad to find you hadn't wasted it at all. The leathery book however made him to pick it up. It was your own diary. His hands carefully flipped the pages, reading into his contents.

A drawing of him with the caption "king of Arachne and quite aloof." the latter in small letters. He sighed and flipped the pages.

The bakery man is such a gentleman! And his pies so scrumptious.

He chuckled at the little pie drawing you did. He found more descriptions in what seemed to be this type of ideal man for you. He rolled his eyes. But the last lines of the pages caught his interest the most.

After losing my brother, it has come to my thinking. I would love a big family on my own.

You wanted kids. Heirs.

The steps outside alerted him as he tossed the diary back on your bed, and soon you'd enter through the door. The way your eyes looked at him with surprise made his heart to flutter softly. He had met rivals in the battlefield, all giving him a horrifying look, begged him to not come closer. But never he had someone to look at him like you were.

His eyes softened as he walked over you. Lips pressed together, you bowed.

"My lord."

He bowed too, adding more wide at your surprise.

"Enjoying your gift?".

"Very much. Thank you." His thank you gift came into mind.

"Did you... receive mines?"

"Of course."

"Did you like?"

Sweet face looked at him, expectantly. His pulse quickened.

"Si." He mumbled and you looked at him confused for a second.

"I'll take it as a yes?" You smiled.

So so sweet.

He relaxed.

"I'll see you in the dining hall."

"Oh?"

To your surprise he looked at you as he took your hand and kissed the back of your soft palm.

"Don't be late". He left.

[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 !!

[literaila]

Ok it's headcanon time what do you think Peter's reaction would be when him and his friend who've been bffs for years and are very comfortable with physical touch suddenly starts to pull away from him cause she saw him flirting with another girl at thier college mixer and so she starts to pull away from his physical touches cause she feel like she should finally be able to move on from him and start her college life without pining after him all the time and slowly peter starts noticing that she always give him affection when he needs it on his tough days but refuses his touch even when he remotely comes near her

🌌

just so you know

tasm!peter x fem!reader

a/n: sorry this took ages, i forgot how to write (there was a more perfect gif but tumblr hates me)

*

“what’s going on?”

you look up again, meeting uncertain eyes with a fake sense of amusement. you know what you’re doing, and so does peter.

“what?” you tease, running your hand over plastic price tags and years of dust, staring down at ceramic mugs and tiny scentless candles.

peter puts his hand on your back, walking with you, and as a subtle and graceful friend, you quickly move away from him, pretending to kneel down and look at a set of plates.

“that. this—this thing that your doing.” peter points to you like it’s a physical entity. some thing you’re holding just to hurt him. a handful of tricks.

“looking at cat mugs?” you ask, eyebrow raised.

“avoiding me. pretending like you haven’t been evading every question i’ve asked.”

you frown, but don’t look up. you finger a curved handle, swallow and let the lies slip from your mouth without any effort. if you’ve been distant from peter recently, it’s nothing but an accident. a practiced maneuver. “i’m not avoiding you.”

“you haven’t looked at me all day.”

“i’m looking at you right now, peter.” and so you do.

peter smiles, laughs a bit, his chest rising and falling, but it’s frustrated. he runs a hand through his hair, shakes his head. and then he bends down and wraps his hand around your arm, pulling you up before you get the chance to stop him.

and you would stop him, you know, if he hadn’t already pointed out that you’ve been doing it all day. for at least the past week.

his touch burns, like a singe on your already red wounds. and even though he’s smiling at you, being as gentle as peter always is, you can see your tension, can feel your own hesitation in his skin.

“did i hurt you, or something?” he asks, biting the inside of his cheek. “i know we—well, we’re not um, that hesitant with being close, touching and stuff, but if i did something accidentally—“

“you haven’t hurt me, peter.”

“okay… then what’s going on? do you need to discuss boundaries with me?”

“what?” you laugh.

“i’m not trying to make you uncomfortable,” peter says, softly, like you’re some breakable thing. “i just want to make sure that you—that we’re okay.”

“of course we’re okay, peter.”

and then, that’s not quite true.

when you look into peters eyes, it’s not an auburn storm that you see. it’s not even yourself being reflected in his irises.

it’s flashing lights and music that made your head pound. there’s sticky floors and too many people—so much air, and too much breathing in such a small room. you see people laughing and singing, hands and bodies intertwined like it would hurt to be apart.

and it’s all sort of beautiful and disturbing, all sort of a lot—but then, there’s familiar hands, running up an unfamiliar body. peter had asked you to dance, but you knew it was only so he could laugh because he knew that you couldn’t.

when you look into peters eyes you see her. and there’s such a strong fire ignited in your chest, such a vehement jealousy that you have to look away.

you have to physically pull yourself away from him just so you don’t feel like that. just so you can tell yourself that it’s not fair.

“we’re fine,” you repeat, softly, and you look away from him. turn away, so you can block yourself away from his all too knowing stare.

you don’t pull away from his hands, but god do you want to. you want to take a break from him, a break from all of this until you can promise yourself that you just don’t care.

that you don’t crave his side stepping and hand holding and resting your head on his shoulder or leaning against his chest. that isn’t fair.

you clear your throat; you can’t lie to him, and it’s not like peter is going to let you. “it’s just…” you start, stepping towards him and then away. “i don’t know if lindsay would be comfortable with it.”

peters face flinched, he tilts his head at you. “lindsay?”

“i don’t want to get in the way of anything…”

“get in the way of what?”

you meet his eyes and laugh. “c’mon, peter. you’re not as discreet as you think you are. there was that night at the club and then the “study” dates you’ve been going on.”

“that wasn’t anything—“ peter is quick to get out, but you shove his shoulder, pretending your laughter isn’t painful.

“save it, loverboy. if you want to hold someone’s hand,” you tease, “it should be your girlfriends. i was surprised you even asked me to come gift hunting today.”

peter swallows. “she’s not my girlfriend.”

you nod, turning away from him. “yeah, okay.”

“i’m serious. we’ve been working on a project for bio-chem, that’s all.”

“i’m not blind, peter.”

he walks when you do, leaning his head down until he can see your face. “don’t you think i’d tell you if started dating someone and it was serious?”

“um, no, not really. we don’t ever talk about that stuff.”

“yeah, because you get weird whenever i bring it up.”

“i don’t get weird—“ you say, turning to glare at him. he’s closer than you expected though so whatever you were about to say falls into the air. it blows away with the feel of peters breath on your cheek.

“i would tell you,” he says, “if i had a girlfriend.”

you lean away from him, taking a deep breath in. “okay, peter. but the point still stands. you shouldn’t be holding hands with me while you’ve got a girl who’s waiting for you to get your head out of your ass. or stop lying. whatever.”

“i don’t want to hold her hand.”

peters voice is soft, and his hand is gentle as it lands on your waist. he pulls you to him, like he’s sure that you’re going to run away.

“well now i know why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

peter chuckles, staring down at you with burning eyes. and this time, when you look at him, you see only a secret catching fire. “i don’t have a girlfriend because i want to hold your hand,” he whispers, a finger brushing up against your jaw.

“o-oh.”

you stare at him, unsure what else to say.

what other announcements need to be made, what other proclamations you should probably get in writing.

peter smiles again, wider. he lets go of you and turns so his shoulder is to you. and then he grabs your hand.

“just so you know,” he says, smirk far too much.

just so you know.

*

[anistarrose]

I want to make my posts more accessible, but can't write IDs myself: a guide

[Plain text: "I want to make my posts more accessible, but can't write IDs myself: a guide." End plain text.]

While every image posted online should be accessible in an ideal world, we all know it 1) takes time to learn how to write image descriptions, and 2) is easy to run out of spoons with which to write IDs. And this says nothing of disabilities that make writing them more challenging, if not impossible — especially if you're a person who benefits from IDs yourself.

There are resources for learning how to write them (and if you already know the basics, I'd like to highlight this good advice for avoiding burnout) — but for anyone who cannot write IDs on their original posts at any current or future moment, for any reason, the there are two good options for posting on Tumblr.

1. Crowdsource IDs through the People's Accessibility Discord

[Plain text: "1. Crowdsource IDs through the People's Accessibility Discord". End plain text.]

The People's Accessibility Discord is a community that volunteers description-writing (and transcript-writing, translation, etc) for people who can't do so themselves, or feel overwhelmed trying to do so. Invite link here (please let me know if the link breaks!)

The way it works is simple: if you're planning to make an original post — posting art, for example — and don't know how to describe it, you can share the image there first with a request for a description, and someone will likely be able to volunteer one.

The clear upside here (other than being able to get multiple people's input, which is also nice) is that you can do this before making the Tumblr post. By having the description to include in your post from the start, you can guarantee that no inaccessible version of the post will be circulated.

You can also get opinions on whether a post needs to be tagged for flashing or eyestrain — just be able to spoiler tag the image or gif you're posting, if you think it might be a concern. (Also, refer here for info on how to word those tags.)

The server is very chill and focused on helping/answering questions, but if social anxiety is too much of a barrier to joining, or you can't use Discord for whatever reason, then you can instead do the following:

2. Ask for help on Tumblr, and update the post afterwards

[Plain text: "Ask for help on Tumblr, and update the post afterwards". End description.]

Myself and a lot of other people who describe posts on this site are extra happy to provide a description if OP asks for help with one! This does leave the post inaccessible at first, so to minimize the drawbacks, the best procedure for posting an image you can't fully describe would be as follows:

Create the tumblr post with the most bare-bones description you can manage, no matter how simple (something like "ID: fanart of X character from Y. End ID" or "ID: a watercolor painting. End ID," or literally whatever you can manage)

Use a tool like Google Lens or OCR to extract text if applicable and if you have the energy, even if the text isn't a full image description (ideally also double-check the transcriptions, because they're not always perfect)

Write in the body of the post that you'd appreciate a more detailed description in the notes!

Tag the post as "undescribed" and/or "no id" only if you feel your current, bare-bones description is missing out on a lot of important context

When you post it and someone provides an ID, edit the ID into the original post (don't use read mores, italics, or small text)

Remove the undescribed tag, if applicable. If you're posting original art, you can even replace it with a tag like "accessible art" for visibility!

And congrats! You now have a described post that more people will be able to appreciate, and you should certainly feel free to self-reblog to give a boost to the new version!

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒂 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒐 𝒋𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔

so, I saw something similar on tiktok and wanted to write it, credits to the person who came up with it.

summary - being a new member of the largest superhero team, you'd think that things would go well, but everything is revealed when christmas rolls around.

warning - angst.

the gif and header I use isn't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

It was rare for the two teams to merge, but every December around Christmas time they would, and with you being the newest member of the Avenger gang. This would be your first-time celebrating Christmas altogether. You watched curiously as they all hung large socks along the fireplace, happy chatter filling the air. “What are those?” You tilt your head.

“Stockings.” You look at Natasha as she replies, “It’s a Christmas tradition where you put small presents inside the stockings of those you care for.” You nod, and your eyes light up. 

“Oh cool!” For the rest of the day you intently listen and observe to pick out the perfect things for them, and over the course of the next few weeks. You slowly begin to fill their stockings, your eyes would fall to yours and notice how empty it looked. But you had hope, there were still a few more days till Christmas and maybe they just haven’t gotten around to it yet. Except Steve walks in and you notice his hands are full, and how he puts a gift for everyone but you. It was as if you were invisible because he didn’t even look at you. “Oh…” 

You continue to splurge and buy everyone things they like, in hopes that you were wrong about them. You skip out of your room on the big day, excited for your first Christmas. When you enter the room, you notice everyone going to their stockings before their presents and expressing happiness with the items they received and with your own excitement, you head over to your stocking and it feels as though the world has stopped. Your stocking was still empty, you finally realised you really meant nothing to the team. You didn’t blame the X-men for not putting anything in because you had only just met them, but your own team? It hurt, you could feel the tears beginning to brim. 

You quickly blink them away before sitting down next to Jean and give her a soft smile, making sure to keep your emotions away from your face and thoughts. “How are you liking it here?” You gnaw on your bottom lip, turning your gaze to your team handing out their presents. 

“I don’t mind it, how about you? I heard this is your first Christmas?” You could see the questions lingering in her eyes, because anyone would question how you could never have a Christmas, but she never completely asks. 

You nod, “Yes, yes. It’s my first and I don’t know… It’s not what I thought it would be.” You stare off, not receiving any presents alongside the stocking. “I’m uh… I’m just going to go for a walk, I don’t feel so good.” You force a smile and get up, heading outside before you could break down in front of everyone. Once you head outside, you break down. You felt like you’d rather be back where you came from. At least your enemies didn’t forget about you. 

“They are all jerks.” You jump as you hear a gruff voice from behide you, you turn, locking eyes with the one and only Wolverine, a cigar between his lips and his eyes harshly set on you. “Not much of heroes when they brag about it every two seconds.” He pushes off the wall and moves closer to you, something catching your eye as the moonlight shines on his hand. 

You look and tilt your head, wiping your cheeks roughly, “What’s that?” Your mouth falls open when he pulls up a cute stocking decorated with glitter, filled to the brim with a small wrapped present resting at the top. “It’s so cute! Whoever it’s for is very lucky.” You give a soft smile, knowing no one would ever get you anything.

Logan shakes his head. “It’s for you, sweets. Those guys are arseholes, they don’t deserve someone as sweet as you on their team.” You feel your breath hitch as he growls, “Open it, honey.” He hands you the stocking and present, leaning against the wall and puffing on the cigar as he watches you open everything.

You gasp, “Oh my god! This is so beautiful, thank you!” You look at him with tears in your eyes as you open the present on the top, a small adorable wolf necklace sits inside the box. You move closer, awkwardly wanting to hug him but not knowing if that will cross a line. Logan raises a brow, placing the cigar between his teeth as he opens his arms. You launch forward and wrap your arms around him, not knowing how to express the feelings that are bubbling up inside. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, darlin’, now why don’t you look inside the stocking. I had Jean and the other women help choose what we thought you’d like.” You look shocked, wondering why a team that wasn’t yours would care more for you than the one you are currently in. Logan reaches up and wipes a tear that falls down your cheek, “We take care of our own, Y/n.” 

Your bottom lip juts out as it wobbles, and you slowly reach inside, sobs escape you as you find everything you like and some new things you’ve wanted to try. “Oh my god…” You feel like you are loved and wanted, but then an overbearing sadness erupts throughout you as you realise that you are stuck with people who don’t want you. 

“That is not true, Miss L/n.” You turn and notice the whole X-men team are there, giving you soft smiles. “I have ordered for your things to be transferred. As Logan said, we take care of our own and you, Miss L/n are one of us.” 

All you could utter are the words thank you. Maybe your first Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[eupheme]

I am so so in love with your writing- I genuinely forgot how much I prefer tumblr drabbles to published books sometimes because beautiful prose and deep emotion is a hill I will die on and you do it so beautifully!!

Just wanted to ask on your opinion with Logan being a little gentleman somewhere deep down (I mean he was raised in the 1800s)

Like, he curses and drinks and smokes like a sailor - but he'd still open a door for a lady or defend her against assholes, even if he'd spend the rest of the night trying to scare her off and hide that little streak of good manners

It's always swirled in my head but I just wondered if I'm the only one or if at least it's folie a deux ♡♡

I have been grinning over this ask, thank you so much!! same - my physical tbr has been piling up because I’ve been reading so much fic, and it’s so amazing to read this in reference to something I wrote. Thank you so so much 🥺💖

and anon, your mind!!! I LOVE this idea, there are definitely such gentlemanly moments about him - and it being something that connects him to when he was born is so sweet. like yes he’s might be a little short/grumpy, but the second someone is rude to you he’s there with a glare and a growled out “watch it, bub.”

I wrote just a little something with your ideas, because you already nailed so many perfect examples - (like trying to scare her off after, that’s so perfect! I would love to hear any more thoughts you have about this!) (and I love you use of folie a deux for this 💕)

It takes you a little while to notice the small things.

How he keeps you close to the shops, when you walk together into town. Keeping himself between you and the busy streets. That second of hesitation when he beats you to the door, only to yank it open - step aside to let you pass through first.

It’s like fitting together pieces of a puzzle, without the reference of the final image. Little moments, clicking into place.

It happens again, when you get into it at one of the stores.

The shopkeeper thinking he can push you around - make an extra buck - not knowing you're just as up-to-date on the hardware as he is. It takes no more than the change in your voice for Logan to be there. A guard dog at your shoulder, daring the man to try to hustle you again.

It leaves you sweet. Sideways glances thrown his way, as you head back to the Mansion. Your paper bag tucked under his arm - the way his eyes are so quick to slide from yours when you tell him, "thank you", muscles tensing beneath the hand that brushes his shoulder.

It slips from him at your touch, rumbled out between the sharp set of his teeth and brow.

"It was nothing. Don't mention it, sweetheart.”

A shift - the collar of his leather jacket turning up against the wind - blocking the lower half of his face from view. Still keeping you tucked to the side, where it's safe.

And you think you soften, a little further.

I am going to be thinking about this all week! Thank you, again! 💖

[eroguron0nsense]

The Mysterious Mysteries of Mr Sir Crocodile (Character Analysis)

(Apologies in advance for discrepancies from my usual tone and for holding off on everyone who voted for this on my last poll. Honest to God I hope y'all enjoy this in some capacity because I've been procrastinating on this meta so long it's derailed ALL my other One Piece writing and I only accomplished it through addy-fuelled mania)

This was such a fucking pain to write. I really wanted to say something about Crocodile and what makes him so fascinating that wasn't like, another fan theory or just a set of headcanons, but that's easier said than done?? We could boil it down to immaculate design, screen presence, attitude, or just the fact that he got brought back as an unlikely ally who shocked everyone by saving the protagonist, but I don't know that those factors in and of themselves make for a villain who's become such an object of fandom obsession.

Whatever it is, it's certainly not backstory or depth, because 24 years and hundreds and hundreds of chapters after his introduction, we still know nothing about Sir Crocowani's past beyond a vague confrontation with the Late Great Edward Newgate (that apparently like, ruined his dreams or something?), and some totally-not-just-a-threat-to-out-him-if-he-betrayed-the-alliance blackmail material the Queen of the Queers is holding over his sandy reptilian ass. I was born and grew into adulthood in the time it took Oda to tell the world fuck all about where he's from or his inner thoughts, or his actual honest motivations and traumas.

All we have about this character are questions. Why did he save Luffy and Ace –very conspicuously after both of their lineages were revealed to the world– against all logic and reason? Does he have ties to the revolutionaries? Is he the long-lost son of Rocks D. Xebec? Did he bounce on Comrade Dragon's Monkey D and squirt out the fucking Warrior of Liberation? I assume Oda's going to tell us more about him, but at this point, he's managed to keep a tighter lid on Sir Crocs, Inc.'s past than the fucking Secret History

You may be wondering, dear reader: what the fuck is my point? What is there, at this final stage of Long Running Pirate Manga, for me–Frankie EroGuroNonsense, OP Tumblr Community Z-lister with like, 7 mildly popular meta posts under my belt–to write about the legendary Sir Krokorok that hasn't already been said or theorized? What eagle-eyed observations did I make while rereading Alabasta and writing toxic Crobin fanfic? Am I going anywhere with this? Sorta. Yeah.

Let's start with listing things we actually know about Crockpot, in roughly chronological (??) order: –attended Gol D.'s execution way back when he was my age, along with anyone else who's anyone from his generation.

–At some point, met and was known well enough by Iva that she could effectively blackmail him

–Made it far enough on the Grand Line, somehow getting to the New World, and managed to pick up an 81,000,000 bounty (low end for a warlord, presumably scouted fairly early in his career)

–Wanted to be Pirate King until he gave up on it, not 100% explicitly confirmed but most likely due to getting his ass beat so badly by Whitebeard that he settled for picking off small fry and racketeering behind a government desk job. This makes him profoundly relatable to the rest of us depressed fucking losers who acquiesce to our own mediocrity.

–At 30, after presumably licking his wounds for a hot minute, sets up shop in Alabasta, comes up with a clever evil plan to quietly build up enough arms to conquer the world with a WMD, and then gets his years-long bioterrorist coup attempt foiled by a 17-year-old.

The rest we know: after a brief moment of glory as the unsung MVP of Impel Down/Marineford, he immediately reverts to Failguy Mode, gives all his money to a literal clown, and consequently gets roped into the neverending uncontrollable PR nightmare that is Cross Guild. It's still super vague and we know little to nothing about his past before the Alabasta Saga (for all we know he had a fling with King Cobra)

...Onto his personality and mannerisms. This shit's a lot more revealing. Superficially, he's everything: immaculate Bond villain levels of charismatic villainy, unbelievably ostentatious, dripped out like a Pimp, constantly smoking cigars, absolutely dripping with smugness and grease and disdain. Owns exotic pets and a giant casino, and spends every waking moment either grinning like a maniac when he's got the upper hand or storming around in a fucking mood when anything goes mildly wrong.

He's also pretty hardened underneath all that, obviously couldn't have lived a day on the grand line or survived Impel Down Torture otherwise. But even in Alabasta, Crockery gives off an air of being distinctly more grounded and willing to get his hands dirty than other flashy, established villains who flaunt their wealth and status. A big part of it is just his really hyper-masculine indomitable tough guy persona, but even early on he's very much micromanaging his operation, fighting people hand to hand in (as opposed to, say, Doffy, who literally puppeteers people while lounging around) and makes a point to keep almost all of his followers at a distance and rely on them as little as possible. He rants a bit about how dreams and whatnot are pointless follies, as One Piece antagonists tend to do, and repeatedly taunts Vivi about how her idealism can't save her, but with the context that he wanted to find Laughtale himself, it feels a lot like projection.

The character trait that's harped on a LOT in canon, and probably the most pertinent one to whatever demons he has, is Croconaw's profound pathological distrust for everyone around him. It's a huge part of what makes him a good early foil to the Nefertari family and the Straw Hats, whose collective strength is derived from organic human connection; Crocalor, by contrast, makes sure that up until the very last moment, he keeps most of his people so distant from him that they genuinely have no idea he's even their boss. His relationship with Robin is interesting, but he turns on her immediately when he realizes she either can't or won't give him the location of Pluton and has his dramatic stabbing/"I forgive you" lines about how he never trusted her or anyone from the start. He says the same shit to Mihawk when he suggests they join forces, even citing their mutual distrust as a kind of paradoxical justification for why they'd actually work well together.

Arguably the only exception is Daz Bones, but even that relationship is still a pretty reserved one; one of the few traits Daz exhibits is a similar avoidance of human connections to his boss and even though they've ironically formed a bond despite it, I can't imagine that they're emotionally close. I find these more explicit declarations of paranoia a lot less indicative of what's actually going on in Croconut's head than subtext, but I feel inclined to mention them just because it more or less tells us that his background/trauma has something to do either with betrayal or alternatively just being jaded and deprived to the point of self-isolation.

Krookodile's character gets a little bit more interesting when we get to see him again in Impel Down being a smug little manipulative rascal right up until he gets blackmailed by his endocrinologist, which is definitely medical malpractice but also funny as hell. I also appreciate that literally the first thing he does after getting out of his cell is change into a big coat and cravat to keep up appearances, but it's not until Marineford proper that things get really complicated. Saving Luffy and Ace is the first selfless thing we see Crobat do–while yelling at Luffy that he needs to protect what matters to him properly, no less– and he just keeps fighting for them after that, teaming up with his most hated rival crew to cover Luffy's retreat and telling the entire WG to go fuck itself multiple times over. He fights everyone on sight with no regard for his own safety, talks mad shit to Doffy, and demonstrates a genuinely compelling amount of honest to god chivalry.

For a short time, we see Crocomotive less as a really entertaining cartoon villain and more as a person with hidden, profound emotions and a confusing moral code that's seemingly incompatible with the vicious little creature we met in Alabasta. We come to understand, in a few very brief lines that give us way more questions than answers, that Cromagnon has deep-seated, emotional convictions he actively suppresses, and that whatever baggage he has is probably tied to wanting to or failing to save something of his own. His resentment of Newgate, who he really really wants to have a go at (despite theoretically no longer caring about the ambitions of his youth) is indicative of a desire to revisit the fight that probably ruined his dream and ego, but it's also tinged with a deep-seated grudging respect for a living legend.

Crock–Afire Explosion's obvious seething hatred of Doffy also gives us a few more insights into what's wrong with him. On a surface level, it makes sense that he dislikes a profoundly obnoxious, even flashier fellow warlord who achieved more or less the same goal he set out to in a shorter time, fucks with his business, and then mocks him/tries to recruit him right after his very public defeat and imprisonment. He postures a lot, especially with his lines insisting he's on a higher level and that Doffy could only ever join him as a subordinate, but he's visibly steamed in their initial encounter and clearly hasn't liked him for quite some time. I bring this up because if we stretch our interpretation a little (for the sake of my argument), Croc Holliday's distaste for someone who's (outwardly) so much like himself and embodies all of his villainous characteristics from back in Alabasta might also suggest that deep down, he doesn't actually like the things they have in common; he sees right through Doffy because he's done the same shit and he hates what he sees.

Having gone over all that, I've come up with some key characteristics of Crocomelon that I'll use going forward:

–Extremely performative: puts an ungodly amount of energy into maintaining a carefully curated persona, and projecting a certain amount of power, masculinity, and prestige. Not necessarily an unnatural or inauthentic one, but a constructed and purposeful one nonetheless

–Deep-seated paranoia, hidden secrets; probably intertwined. Keeps personal details on tight, tight lockdown, probably afraid of being known.

–Constant projection of his own insecurities and failures onto other people, making a point to be uniquely cruel in Alabasta to an idealist who loves her people and a dreamer who wants to be the Pirate King.

Ironically, he demonstrably respects and defends two people–Luffy and Whitebeard–who theoretically embody everything he hates or scorns (ambition, goodness, love, connection, romanticism, greatness in the traditional sense) and he intensely dislikes the villain most like himself, or at least the one who shares a lot of his worst characteristics (ostentatious manipulative scheming rat bastard backed by people stronger than himself) –The Grinch's heart grew three sizes at Marineford because of like, the compelling power of brotherly love and reminders of his youth or something

SPECULATION, CONCLUSIONS??

The difficulty with writing anything definitive about Crocko's Basilisk is that he's such a mystery, which functionally lets the fanbase project literally whatever weird personality traits, potential backstories, or anything else they could possibly come up with onto him. So I want to be clear that I have absolutely no interest in theorizing about the specifics of his past or secret identity or potential baby daddy or anything along those lines; I'm only interested in what we can infer about his personality by extrapolating from canon. And the conclusion I keep coming back to, the one that I'm convinced is true on some level, is that Crocodile is living a lie and he fucking hates himself. Everything he does, from how he acts to what he claims to believe, is a desperate effort to cope with his own insecurity and failure and cover up a past version of himself he's deeply ashamed of.

Now, unfortunately, Oda did not conceive of Crocodile as a trans man but stories belong to the people and we can do what we want let's forget about that and play it straight because he's constantly performing gender as a means of compensating for a deep-seated shame and self-loathing from whatever traumas and secrets he keeps hidden. Even assuming he's a cis man, he deliberately chooses a hypermasculine persona with a Capital V Villain moniker and pimp outfit and speech pattern he's carefully curated to project masculine power–physical, political, and financial–and we know it's performance because we see him break kayfabe and get legitimately fucking angry whenever he's confronted by a person like Luffy, who's crazy and brave enough to try and do what he couldn't and risk everything for love and hope that he cannot bring himself to feel for another person, or reminders of the past he tries so desperately to bury.

The lessons he's wrongfully obtained from his past are as follows: Idealism is a weakness. Dreaming is a weakness. Connections to other people and being known are crippling liabilities (If he is, in fact, trans and closeted, that's all the more reason to be existentially disgusted by what he used to be). All the hope he brought to the Grand Line, all the excitement of trying to carry on where Roger left off, needs to be purged and buried because all he got to show for it was loss and humiliation. But he can't stop wanting more, and ironically, after he gives up on conquering the Grand Line, he ends up chasing the same fucking poneglyphs and weapons because his ambition's still there; it's just compromised and much more jaded.

Everything he does that's seemingly contradictory makes sense when you realize that Crocodile resents his failure and wants to avenge himself. He makes a big show of talking down to Luffy and Vivi's petty ideals and shit-talking Newgate and his family, but he still wants to fight Whitebeard like he did way back when and help Luffy protect what matters to him. He hates Doffy, who's honestly just a more successful schemer than he is because it's a constant reminder of what he settled for when he took that warlord post and fucking gave up. He claims to trust no one, but he keeps Daz by his side and rewards his loyalty because he can't help but trust someone who respects him so deeply and follows him to the ends of the fucking earth long after losing the material incentive to do so. He claims to look down on people who aim for the stars and fight for love and joy and freedom and yet, in his most vulnerable moments–not in the face of violence or imprisonment, but when he's emotionally compelled to defend a child and help save his brother–we see how badly he wants that for himself.

TLDR: Crockman Holic is deeply insecure in his masculinity, desperately needs psychological help, and his character/potential redemption arc in One Piece is just dealing with his midlife crisis.

[reguluswife28]

Hi☁️!

Can you write something about how the Sirius, James, Remus and Lily try to get close to Slytherin reader (who is really shy and muggleborn). They decide to try through a prank, since with Lily worked but instead they angered Regulus (the reader's only close friend) for making her cry. They decide to change their approach: complimenting her, reading with her and watching Muggle films. After some hesitation, the reader decides to give it a chance. (I hope it's okay for you to write about Lily too, I haven't seen many posts here on Tumblr involving her, although I think it comes up with something super cute☺️). The rest is up to you 🤍

Ps. The marauders and Lily are already in a relationship with each other

Thank you for requesting this! I had a lot of fun writing it!<3

-

Warnings: prank taken too far?

-

Chances

-

Have you ever been scared of something so much the sight of it makes you want to cry?

Well I am. To be specific, I'm scared of Doxy's. They're nasty little creatures that could kill you with their venom quickly.

The only reason why I had an encounter with these creatures once is because I may or may not have walked far too deep into the forbidden forest one day but thankfully my closest and only friend Regulus Black was there to save me before anything happened.

I shook my head out of my thoughts about the creature's as I sat at the Slytherin table. Right after that Regulus sat down next to me.

It was dinner time. "What took you so long?" I asked him as we put food onto our plate. "Slytherin quidditch captain started talking to me about plays for our next game." He replied as I started to eat so I just nodded. We fell into a conversation about the books we were reading that week.

Suddenly we were interrupted by rather loud laughter coming from the Gryffindor table that was beside the Slytherin table. Regulus stopped talking looking annoyed as he looked over to the table to see his brother's obnoxious laughing. "He never shuts up I swear." Regulus muttered causing me to chuckle a little.

Soon we finished eating and both decided to go back to the Slytherin common room. “You’ll have to let me read that book you’re reading once you’re done with it.” Regulus said to me with a small smile. “The Outsiders isn’t it?” He asks as we reach the painting to the common room. “Correct.” I say then say the password to get in and we walk through into the common room.

After a quick conversation we said goodnight to each other and headed to our dorms. When I got to mine I changed into pajamas and got in bed going to sleep.

The next morning I got and opened my dresser to get my regular clothes. But, with doing that out of my dresser came doxy’s. The one thing I was terrified of.

I tried to scream for help but nothing would come out of my throat. My heart was racing and I ran from them as they started to come after me.

While running I tripped and fell over one of my books for classes. I scrambled back against the wall starting to cry and hyperventilate. They came after me causing me to put my arms up crossing them in defense which really wouldn’t do anything. I closed my eyes waiting for impact but it never came.

I lowered my arms, opening my eyes and still crying to see absolutely nothing there now. What? I could have sworn they were just there. Was it all just some allusion?

“Y/n, are you up yet? We need to eat breakfast.” Asked Regulus just walking into my dorm. I assume he hadn’t seen me so he looked around confused. As he turned his head he saw me.

Immediately getting concerned he came over to me pulling me into his arms. “What happened?” He asked in a whisper. “I..” I try to speak but my voice is hoarse. “Take your time.” He says and I smile gratefully at him.

“I went to go get my clothes for the day…” I started looking over to my dresser. “Then when I opened it I had those doxy’s flying at me and then they just disappeared like they were an allusion.” I said shaking my head as I hugged Regulus.

“Are you okay now?” He asked still with a soft voice. I nodded then got up with his help. “Do you think it was the other Slytherins playing some mean prank? Just because I’m a muggleborn?” I ask as I walk to my dresser finally grabbing my clothes. “It could have been. I’ll try to find out.” He said then walked out the room so I could change.

I changed into my clothes and brushed my hair and teeth then met Regulus out in the common room and we walked together to breakfast. When we got there sitting down at the Slytherin table the marauders including Lily Evans walked up to us looking like they were laughing.

“What could you guys possibly want?” Regulus asked in a cold voice as I got some pancakes on my plate.

“Just came here to ask Y/n a question little brother.” Sirius replied and I looked up at them confused. “How was that doxy prank?” James asked and I tensed up. It was them? How did they get into my dorm let alone the Slytherin common room?

“Oh… uh…” I started then notice Regulus seething with his nostrils flaring. “Don’t look so gloomy. It was just a prank!” Peter said and I looked at them shocked then they walked to Gryffindor table and sat down.

I turned around and quietly ate my food quickly ignoring everytime Regulus tried to start a conversation about something. After I was done eating I got up walking out of the great hall and to the astronomy tower to calm down and read.

Regulus POV

After my stupid older brother and his friends or whatever they all are said they were the ones who pulled the prank on Y/n I was angry. I tried to talk to her throughout all of breakfast but she ignored me and when she was done she got up and walked off somewhere.

I though waited until the supposed pranksters got up and walked out to follow them. Following them down the hallway once we were far enough away from any teachers I quickly grabbed Sirius by the collar slamming him against the wall.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hex you right this second.” I seethed angrily pointing my wand at his throat. “Woah! Why the hell are you so angry?” He asked giving a confused look. “That little ‘prank’ you pulled on Y/n made her have a panic attack!” I spat at him letting him go but still holding my wand to my side.

“It what?” Asked Remus now looking panicked. “It was just supposed to be a little prank. I swear!” Sirius barked out quickly. The rest of them looked shocked. “We all like her and didn’t think the prank would cause all of that.” Lily said with concern lacing her tone.

“She’s absolutely terrified of doxy’s. She almost got attacked by real ones once.” I said now calmly but still slightly angry.

“How can we make it up to her?” Asked Peter quietly. “Well, if you really liked her you’d know she liked muggle books and movies. She may be up in the astronomy tower right now. She likes to read there.” I say walking off to the Slytherin common rooms.

Y/n’s pov

As I flipped the page in my book I was almost finished with I heard footsteps coming up the steps to the tower.

“Y/n?” I heard the voices of none other than the marauders and Lily ask. I close my book after bookmarking it and stand up to face them. “What?” I ask tiredly waiting for them to probably start tormenting me. “We’re sorry for the prank.” Lily said first and the others all had an apologetic face. “We truly are.” Remus said.

“The truth is.. we all like you and thought a prank would show that.” James told me and I tilted my head confused. “We were obviously wrong. Regulus made sure we knew of that.” Sirius said rubbing his neck awkwardly.

“We’re asking for another chance possibly?” Peter asked and I scoffed. “You prank me with the thing I’m terrified of most and ask for another chance? You’re going to need to make it up to me first before I ever decide if you even get that.” I tell them in a slightly upset and annoyed tone.

“We will.” They all say in unison.

“You like the outsiders?” Lily asks pointing to my book and I give a half smile. “It’s my favorite book and movie.” I inform her.

“Would you want to watch muggle movies with us today? To make up for what we did?” James asks and I nod. “Well let’s go!” Sirius says loudly throwing his arm around me. I manage to let out a little chuckle and lead the way to my dorm room.

When we got there I set up a place for us to all sit/lay and put in a muggle movie for us to watch. We watched quite a few muggle movies and joking around causing me to get tired so I ended up leaning my head on Lily’s shoulder stifling out a yawn.

They all weren’t that bad really and I forgive them for what happened. They all looked truly sorry when apologizing. “I think I’ll give you guys a second chance after all.” I say tiredly then end up falling asleep.

Sorry if the end felt rush I’ve been up for a while writing this!!

My masterlist!

[inuyashaluver]

would you ever write a jessie fleming x reader fic??? love ur work you carry woso tumblr

something more - jessie fleming

jessie fleming x reader

description: in which you’ve always wanted more out of your friendship with jessie, but maybe she’s willing to give that to you

warnings: kinda lonnggg

a/n: hiya! thanks for the request, also that’s the nicest thing ever, i did tear up at that literally thank you so much, the woso tumblr writers are truly phenomenal, enjoy!❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your best friend, jessie fleming met during a friendly match between your national teams, canada and england. when you saw her for the first time, you have to admit, you thought she was beautiful. you were both midfielders, marking each other the whole game, you couldn’t help but flush a little red when she placed a hand on your lower back when you had the ball. good thing the air was cold.

england had won, you walked around to shake the hands of the canadian players when you felt a hand on your shoulder. “hey, (y/n) right?” you turn and face none other than jessie, your mouth slightly hangs open as she gives you a shy smile. “uh yeah! nice to meet you” she extends her hand for a handshake and you return it, her hands were so soft, you were star struck.

“well (y/n), good game, i hope to see you around” her smile never drops, her face is slightly red, she must be cold (nope). “yeah, you too, jessie” you smile at her and she waves goodbye at you. you watch her leave, her teammates teasing and shoving her. you tilt your head to the side, what was that reaction?

you turn to see majority of your team smiling at you, “what” you say, “nothing, nothing” leah says with a smirk, “alright girls, let’s get out of here” she comes up to you, putting a hand over her mouth as she whispers in your ear, “those pink cheeks aren’t fooling anyone, love” you shove her off you and run away, everyone laughing at your reaction.

—

you were signed to chelsea, you guys had training and were doing some light stretching for a warm up. you were doing partner stretches with your national teammate, niamh. you were helping her stretch when all of a sudden, a certain brunette walks through the door in a chelsea training kit, you drop niamh’s leg and she protests before following to where your eyes were.

your mouth was slightly agape, niamh hurriedly stood next to you and shut your mouth for you. “so she’s the new signing” niamh pointed out, looking at you worriedly because you hadn’t said anything. “how?” you breathe out, “well, my friend, she gets called by management and then comes here to sign a contract and boom! she’s here!” she mocks and laughs when you lightly slap her arm.

jessie was getting talked to by a member of staff when she makes eye contact with you. she smiles brightly and nods her head with a small wave. you smile back at her with a little wave, looking away when niamh was teasing you in the corner.

she quickly disperses when she sees jessie smiling and walking up to you.

“hey, (y/n)!” jessie pulls you into a tight hug, you hesitantly wrap your arms around her waist. “hey, jessie! nice to see you again” she pulls away from you, a bright smile spread on her face. “i didn’t know you were coming to chelsea” you say with a shy smile, “do you not want me here or something?” she remarks with a smirk.

“no no i do! i’m very happy you’re here!” you quickly grab her arm and she looks down at it, smiling, you let go thinking she was uncomfortable, missing her frown when you let go.

“i’m very happy you’re here too” she says shyly, you both smile at each other till you both get called for drills.

you partner up for drills, you can’t ignore the fact that jessie is extremely touchy with you. whether it was holding your arm, your hand or slinging an arm over your shoulder. you can’t help but lean into it every time, the affection feeling so natural and familiar to both of you.

the more you interacted with each other, the more you realised you had in common. she fit into the team well, but you couldn’t help but notice she didn’t interact with the others the way she did with you. sure she was extremely friendly, but she didn’t touch the others like she did with you, or talk to the others the way she did with you. you can’t help but wonder, maybe she felt somewhat the same? (obviously)

—

as the months turn into years, the two of you grow closer and closer. going out for lunches, buying each other little gifts, always partnering up during training, being the first to celebrate with on the pitch. you two had truly become best friends.

one day you were at training, absolutely exhausted, lying on the floor after a gruelling session. jessie comes and lies next to you, she places an arm under your head acting as a pillow, grinning when you lean into her more, sighing contemptly.

“what’s the plan now, (y/n/n)?” you move your head to look up at her to find she was already looking at you. “movie at mine?” you question, jessie immediately agreeing and pulling the both of you to stand up, slinging her arm over your shoulder while walking you to the change room.

niamh snickers when she sees you two sitting in your cubby, chatting. niamh sneaking a photo of the two of you and sending it to the lioness group chat - which you were in by the way!

“our little (y/n) is in love!” she texts under the photo, replies coming through quickly: “get it girlie!”, “holy shit”, “a canadian (y/n)? we could’ve gotten you a nice brit” you look at your phone and flush red, looking up at niamh across from you and flipping her off.

“you okay, babe?” jessie questions your frown, you nod your head at her with a smile, “yeah, let’s go now!” you quickly haul her up and shove her out the door, turning to niamh again, “you’re a little shit” you point your finger at her. she laughs brightly at you, waving at you and blowing you a kiss, “i love you!” niamh screams after you

—

you get to your house, jessie knew this place all too well, coming over nearly every day. you sat on one end of the couch while jessie lay her head in your lap. you were flicking through the movies trying to pick one to watch, jessie being no help, closing her eyes and sinking into your lap and couch.

you slot a hand through her hair and she hums at the contact, flipping over and nuzzling her head into your stomach, wrapping her arms around your torso and holding you close together. you embarrassingly let out a little squeak feeling her mouth graze your exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up. you can feel her grin into your stomach and you freeze when you feel her hand dip into the back of your shirt to trace light shapes with her finger on your lower back.

you were about to say something when you hear jessie’s phone ping on the coffee table. “read that for me?” she mumbles into your skin, groaning when you slightly lean forward to grab her phone. you freeze again, her wallpaper sending shivers down your spine, your mouth went dry.

her wallpaper was a candid photo of you wearing one of jessie’s hoodies when you got cold, her name “fleming” plastered on the front emblem over your heart and the back. you had such a happy smile on your face, pink cheeks evident on your face.

“babe?” she slightly pulls away from you, looking up at your shocked face, “you okay?” she questions, now removing herself from you and sitting up properly, holding your hand tightly. she only looks at your face until she sees what you’re looking at, her wallpaper.

“oh!” she starts worriedly, “sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, it’s just such a cute picture” she smiles sheepishly, going to let go of your hand but you hold her hand tighter.

all you could do was shake your head and look at her with blown out pupils. you quickly take out your phone out of your pocket and show your own wallpaper, a picture of her lifting you up in celebration as you hug her tightly. she grabs your phone from you and blushes as she inspects the photo, finally picking up the courage to look you in the eye.

“hi” you breathe out and she laughs brightly, “hey, beautiful” she returns with a grin. placing a gentle hand on your knee and absentmindedly running her thumb over it. “what are you thinking about, baby?” she questions, smiling at you encouragingly. “um” you breathe out shakily, gripping onto her hand tighter. “you” you swallow. she smiles at you, “oh yeah? what about me?” she whispers lowly, smirking at your flustered expression. you open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

“come on, baby, you can say it” she was always the one making the first move, wanting you to take over this time. she squeezes your lower thigh, giggling when you tense up. you avert your eyes from her, looking down at the coffee table, she ducks her head to follow your eyes and you instantly burn up.

“jessie” you start, “yeah, baby” she moves closer to you, nodding her head. “i like you” her eyes brighten and she smiles excitedly, “i like you too, ever since the friendly match, baby girl” you lightly shove her, “i told the girls before that i thought you were beautiful and they told me to make a move”

you decide to make a bold move and straddle her lap, she happily welcomes you and holds onto your hips, you were both completely flushed. “i was crushing on you majorly, fleming” she lightly pinches your waist, “i was more” she mocks, you shake your head at her with a grin, you move to whisper in her ear, “the lioness group chat is full of me and you, baby, everyone has been waiting for this” your lips lightly graze her ear and she grips your hips tighter, “you should see the canada one, baby” you both let out a laugh together, looking into each other’s eyes softly.

jessie’s eyes flicker between your own, occasionally falling to your lips. “can i kiss you, (y/n)?” giggling when you nod your head eagerly, she places a hand on your cheek and smiles at you again, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on your lips. suddenly feeling confident, you grab the back of her head and deepen the kiss by prodding your tongue on her bottom lip, your tongue moving with hers harmoniously. a small groan from the back of her throat comes out when you scratch her scalp with your nails, you whine into her mouth with a grin before pulling away from her.

you pull away breathlessly, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear with a soft smile. you held the sides of her neck with both of your hands and place a soft peck on her lips. she smiles up at you and pulls the back of your head down to return the favour.

“you’re so pretty” she nuzzles her nose with yours. you wrap your arms around her neck and pull her into a hug. “you’re so pretty” you say, squirming when you feel her place a kiss on your neck.

—

when you come into training the next day holding each other’s hands, the girls cheer for you and jessie holds your hand up victoriously. niamh comes up and steals you away, lifting you up and running around the field. “hell yeah, (y/n/n)! proud of you!” you laugh brightly when she places you on the ground. “we’ve gotta find someone for you now, missy” you say cheekily and chase her around the field, you stop when she holds up a water bottle threateningly, you run and hop on jessie’s back.

“save me, baby!” she holds onto your thighs and runs from niamh, niamh seeing your matching smiles leaves you both alone when she sees you having so much fun.

you stay on jessie’s back during the team talk, your arms wrapped around her neck, occasionally whispering in her ear and joking around with each other. both of you were so happy, mainly both of your friends who had seen you pining over each other for so long.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by niamhcharles17 and 44,232 others

_jessflem: oh, we’re dating btw @/yourname

view all comments

yourname: my baby ❤️

↳ _jessflem: no MY baby

lionesses: finally!!

↳ canadasoccer: finally!!!!

niamhcharles17: finally

leahwilliamsonn: finally

yourname: i will block all of you

↳ _jessflem: ditto, baby

[marvelavengerspovs1]

Lazy Day

Pairing: Bucky x F!reader

Warnings: Nothing but fluff

Length: 808

Summary: You and Bucky have a lazy morning.

A/N: After a VERY long break, I’m semi-back! I’m not going to say I’m fully back because I still don’t log into Tumblr that often, but I’m hoping to write a bit more! I got severe burnout in May, partially because of finals, but now that the new semester has started I feel that itch to write again, especially after the past week. Right now I’m feeling more fluff than smut, so I hope y’all don’t mind!

I do not give consent for my work to be translated, copied, or sold!

You open your eyes with a hum. Your once warm body was getting colder and colder by the second. You only notice when you roll over that it’s because your personal heater has gotten out of bed. With a heavy sigh, you roll back over and close your eyes. You hear heavy footsteps coming from outside of your shared bedroom to your side of the bed.

“You got out of bed,” You grumble into the pillow.

You hear Bucky chuckle before he kisses your temple. “Sorry Doll, I wanted to make sure there was some fresh coffee for when you woke up.”

At the sound of fresh coffee, you cracked open one eye to look at him. “Fresh coffee you say?”

Bucky laughs again and shakes his head. “Don’t worry Doll, I’ll bring you a cup.”

Bucky moves to get up but you grab his arm to stop him. “Will you come back to bed?”

Bucky smiles down at you and gives you a gentle kiss on the lips. “Of course I will Doll, I’m just going to get our coffees.”

You let go of his arm and close your eyes again as he leaves. You hear Bucky working his way around the kitchen and decide that you should at least sit up and fix your hair. You readjust your pillows so you can lay back comfortably and before you can fix your hair, Bucky comes back with two cups of coffee.

“I tried to make it just the way you like it,” Bucky places both cups of coffee on his bedside table.

Bucky leans over the bed and gives you a gentle kiss as you fix your hair. He lets out a hum of approval and smiles.

“You know, I could get used to this.”

“Could you now?” You ask him with a smile, settling back in on your side of the bed as Bucky hands you your coffee.

“Oh definitely. I get up and go on my morning run, I make us coffee when I get back, you looking absolutely gorgeous.”

“Oh you flatter me too much Barnes.” You say dramatically with a laugh.

“There is no amount of flattery in the world that would capture everything I love about you.” You feel yourself get warm as butterflies erupt in your belly.

“Bucky, it’s too early to be cheesy.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and sips his coffee. “Well I can’t help that you’re my dream girl, Doll.”

You scrunch your nose at both his cheesy comment and the way he drinks his coffee. “I don’t know how you are so sweet but take your coffee black.”

Bucky looks down at his mug, his eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just so bitter. At least add some cream or something.” You tease him.

“Just so you know, I happen to really like my coffee just the way it is. I don’t need all that extra stuff to make it taste better.”

You take a sip of your coffee and shake your head at him. “Lying isn’t good Bucky, you should be honest.”

Bucky rolls his eyes once more and lays against the headboard. “If I change my coffee, you’ll have to change yours too.”

You glare at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He glares back. “You want to try me, Doll?”

The two of you continue the stare off for a minute before a white furball makes her presence known. Alpine jumps onto the bed and meows loudly, trying to get your attention. Bucky breaks first, turning to look at her.

“Are you hungry Alp?” He asks her, petting under her chin.

Alpine flips onto her back and lets out a small meow, letting you both know that she wants food. You both smile at her.

“Don’t worry Alpine, we didn’t forget about you.” You tell her.

You rub her belly and kiss the side of her head. You place your cup of coffee on your bedside table and get up.

“And where do you think you’re going, Doll?”

“Alpine has to eat.” You look at Bucky with a ‘are you serious?’ face.

“Get your cute ass back in bed. It’s a lazy day which means I take care of everything. You don’t have to lift a finger today.”

You smile and sit back on the bed. “Can everyday be a lazy day?”

“If you want it to be Doll.” Bucky smiles at you.

This is why you love him. Not because you can ask him to do anything and he would do it. But because he would do so without you asking. He would rather you be comfortable and him do all the work. You couldn’t ask for a better partner.

Bucky leans over and places a gentle kiss on your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You lean forward and kiss him again.