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nereidprinc3ss · 7 months ago

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do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

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18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him.

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye.

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign.

You look at it.

And then you set your phone down.

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness.

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside.

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes.

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment.

He looks good. Almost too good.

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek.

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head.

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him.

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully.

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.”

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek.

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best.

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body.

You cover his hand with your own.

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion.

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies.

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks.

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense.

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this.

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy.

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel.

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm.

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him.

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you.

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly.

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds.

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no.

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful.

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly.

“Yes, please.”

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting.

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine.

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it.

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for.

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings.

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present.

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing.

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster.

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem.

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest.

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place.

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand.

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair.

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him.

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful.

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again.

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you.

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame.

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you.

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul.

“Spencer?”

“Hm?”

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin.

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential.

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands.

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind.

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK.

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake.

He knows.

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity.

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like.

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before.

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it?

Maybe you have it all wrong.

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you.

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick.

24 hours go by.

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up.

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure.

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off.

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking.

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep.

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed.

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone.

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said.

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room.

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while.

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs.

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones.

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble.

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no.

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly.

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence.

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans.

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure. After a pause, he sighs in defeat.

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown.

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless.

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up.

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones. It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic.

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand.

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket.

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter.

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges.

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it.

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it.

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer.

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing.

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?”

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you.

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?”

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that.

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before.

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft.

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest.

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows.

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts.

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning.

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration.

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous.

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them.

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit.

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice.

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making.

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now.

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that.

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers.

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute.

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base.

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut.

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock.

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.”

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk.

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump.

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment.

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry.

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!”

He knows.

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist.

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding.

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease.

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more.

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone.

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide.

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else.

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you.

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here.

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength.

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?”

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous.

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue.

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared.

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out.

“You regret your first time?”

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does.

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash.

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins.

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same.

You want to scream bloody murder.

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse.

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence.

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back.

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me.

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later.

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was.

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help.

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does.

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound.

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more.

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right.

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here.

“Goodnight.”

part five

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

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spectersgf · 4 months ago

Note

harvey specter x reader idk they meet in a book store (maybe the reader could run it?) never giving each other last names or smhting. but the reader is mikes sister and mike tells her all about harvey but no one manges to connect teh dots? idk you have free control i just thought something like that where the reader has nothing to do wiht his work life and is really soft and sweat .

— bookstores and brothers 𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

pairing: harvey specter × reader (+ mike ross & reader are siblings)

summary: a hotshot lawyer walks into a café bookstore and meets a pretty barista. the world is smaller than he thinks.

warnings: none! kinda suggestive but nothing crazy

wordcount: 3.7k (yikes!)

a/n: first request! sorry this was so horrifically late but hopefully the length makes up for it? but also not proofread OOPS. (more rambling at the end <3)

(if you want to be tagged in future fics or if you have any requests, let me know! for my other fics, here's my masterlist!)

Ever since your brother, Michael, started making the big bucks at his job as a fraud lawyer, he had decided to invest in you — your business, that is. With his investment, you were able to follow your dream of opening a bookstore-meets-café, with a small apartment atop the store. Your store was popular enough that you were able to live comfortably; you had a community of regular readers who came for your books (especially since you’d always fulfil requests) and a hoard of regulars that came for your coffee. Your coffee was easily the best in the area, and people even went out of their way to get coffee from you.

Someone who went out of their way for your coffee, though you didn’t know this, was Harvey. You knew very little about him; he was a very attractive man who came in at 8:30am, like clockwork, for his black coffee with vanilla and sugar. You were rarely able to converse with him for very long or in a lot of detail, but you had assumptions. He was maybe a banker or some kind of lawyer like your brother, but the only thing you knew for sure was his coffee order and the fact that he wore a three-piece suit every day. On particularly warm days, he’d forgo either the jacket or the vest, both of which were welcome options. On particularly cold days, he wore a scarf and gloves, and even a coat. His hair was always styled the exact same and he had the most wonderful crow’s feet and smile lines.

This morning, Harvey took you by surprise by coming in earlier than normal. He came in at 8:17am exactly. It was a warm day so he was without his vest, but other than that he was in his normal attire. Since you were having a slower morning this morning, you started his coffee as soon as you saw him approach. By the time he was in the door and at your counter, you’d finished making his coffee and his cup was ready on the counter. You were feeling bold and flirty and had drawn a heart next to his name on the cup and it was visible to him when he stood in front of you.

“Good morning, Harvey.” You were feeling very cheery this morning, and even more so after seeing him walk in the door.

“Good morning, Y/N. That for me?” He was eyeing the cup on the counter that was very obviously for him, typical smirk on his face and a playful glint in his eye.

“No, it’s a black coffee with sugar and vanilla for the other Harvey in my life.” You teasingly rolled your eyes as he picked up the cup. You weren’t sure if your eyes were deceiving you, but it seemed like he was being careful to not smudge your penmanship on the cup.

“Well, it’s a good thing this other Harvey isn’t here so I can have his coffee.” He took a sip of the drink, completely unfazed by the temperature and smiled. “Perfect as always. Crazy how this other Harvey drinks the exact same niche coffee that I do, hm?”

You bared your teeth in a cheeky smile. “So crazy,” you replied. “Did you want a pastry or anything?” You gestured towards the display case of freshly baked goods, pausing at your favourite. “This one goes down a real treat.”

“How about a rain check on the pastry, and you can bring it with you when I make you dinner tomorrow night at my apartment?” he asked, feeling equally as bold and flirty as you were. He supplemented his question with a warm smile, his entire demeanour oozing confidence.

“Oh? The elusive Harvey idon’tknowyourlastname asking me on a date, I see?” you teased, though internally you were screaming: ‘YES! I would love dinner with you!’

“You’re cute. Is that a yes? Maybe I’ll tell you my last name when you come over.” He was reciprocating your teasing, which you thoroughly enjoyed. You always appreciated a man who could keep up with your humour.

“I have a better idea. Come back after I close up shop and we can have a reading date. The best way to get to know someone is through the books they like to read.” You smiled shyly, nervous to be rejected, though Harvey didn’t seem like the type of man to rudely reject your ideas.

His warm smile was all the confirmation you needed. “That sounds perfect. I’ve been meaning to check out the other half of your establishment for some time. I need some enrichment in my life.”

“Well, if by enrichment you mean a cheesy romance, I’m your girl. I have a bad habit of stocking my favourites and I am a romantic at heart, so that’ll make up a lot of what you find here. I have other stuff, too, but I just gravitate to a good romance book,” you rambled. You blushed when you finally caught yourself, smiling as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Well, clearly I need some romance in my life. I’ll be here this evening.” He didn’t seem put off by your rambling which you were grateful for. Your stomach buzzed with excitement as you nodded.

“See you this evening.”

───────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────

Harvey had just signed off for the day and was slipping his jacket over his shoulders when Mike Ross walked into his office.

“Haven’t we talked about you not barging in here unannounced?” He asked, only half joking with his associate.

“We both know you don’t care anymore,” Mike replied, rolling his eyes. “And where are you going? It’s only,” he checked his watch, “5:30. Why do you get to leave but I’m stuck here late?”

“First of all, it’s none of your business where I’m going. And second, I did my time working 23 hours a day. And third, it’s none of your business.” Harvey made the decision to take off his tie as he spoke, wanting to feel more comfortable and casual while he was with you.

“Removing your tie, too? You have a hot date tonight. What restaurant are you taking her to?”

“Mike. Shut up.”

Mike laughed at Harvey’s reaction. “Alright, have fun old man. Use protection!” He shouted as Harvey walked out of his office, no longer entertaining Mike’s discussion.

───────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────

He arrived much earlier than close. You were unusually busy this evening and hadn’t even noticed Harvey walk into the store as you finished the line of coffees in front of you. You finally finished and swapped with your employee to take over as cashier when a familiar voice ordered a familiar, but niche, coffee.

“Can I get a large black coffee with vanilla and sugar? But can the pretty barista make it and sign my name with a heart like she did this morning?” he teased, smiling as he saw you.

“Harvey! You’re early, I’m not off yet,” you replied, brow furrowed with concern.

“I was finished for the day and thought I’d come in early and chill here. And by finished for the day, I mean distracted and eager.”

“And by chill here, you mean bug me until I’m done?” you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

“Something like that,” he replied, the look in his eye matching yours.

“Okay, well, I’m going to hope you meant me when you said ‘pretty barista’ and I’ll bring your coffee over to you in a second.” A warm blush tinted your cheeks as you spoke, swapping places with your confused barista once again.

You quickly made Harvey’s coffee and signed his cup with a heart as he’d requested. After making a mocha for yourself, you spoke to your employees, asking them to take over for you now that the rush had started to slow down for the night. You removed your apron and took your hair out of its loose bun and found Harvey sitting on a sofa in the bookstore portion of your shop.

“Coffee for the gentleman.” You held the coffee cup out for him to take, the side with his name written on it facing towards him. “I would’ve made it in a mug but I had a weird request from the guy ordering it.”

You took a seat next to him and brought your cup to your lips, taking a sip and letting out a quiet hum of appreciation for your drink. He looked at you quizzically as you did so, expecting you to have to get back to work.

“I managed to get off early. Perks of being the owner.” You smiled over your cup as you slipped off your shoes and got comfortable on the sofa.

“I don’t think I ever registered that you were the owner here. It’s like, I knew but didn’t know. Does that make sense?” he asked, smiling as he took a sip of his regular coffee.

“It does. Kinda. My brother Michael helped make it happen, he’s a lawyer at some hotshot firm and invested in me and my little dream.” You gestured around the room as you spoke, smiling gratefully at the thought.

“Did you know I’m also a lawyer at some hotshot firm?” he asked. His tone was light and playful, which you appreciated.

“I did not. What’s it like, hotshot?” You tucked your feet under you and wrapped both hands around your cup, turning slightly so that your body was completely facing Harvey.

“Well, I’m the best closer in the city. I’m great at what I do and I love doing it. And I have an associate who is determined to become my mini-me. No complaints.” Deep smile lines framed his mouth like a piece of art as you admired him and took in his words.

“A mini Harvey, huh? Sounds like he looks up to you.” Despite your matter-of-fact tone, you were asking a question, curious to know his opinion on the matter.

“It seems like he does. I don’t ever say it but sometimes it feels like pressure. I’ve worked in the grey a lot and I worry about him following in my footsteps. I wouldn’t ever say that to him though.” He opened up to you, though neither of you had expected it. He was surprised by how easy you were to talk to and how quickly he had allowed himself to be vulnerable with you.

“It does sound like a lot, but I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. My brother always tells me about his mentor; he says that despite making some questionable decisions, he’s great at what he does and he looks up to that. It’s probably a similar situation,” you told him sincerely, reaching out to place one hand on his arm in an attempt to comfort him.

“His mentor sounds like a great lawyer. What’s his name? Maybe I know him,” Harvey asked, obviously wanting to change the subject from his vulnerable state.

“I’m not sure. I can’t remember, I have the worst memory literally ever,” you reply, smiling shyly. “I’m good at remembering books, though! Shall we get stuck in?”

“Is this the part where you bombard me with a million love stories?” he teased, clearly amused but secretly excited.

“God no. Just one. Or you can pick your own.”

“Do you like to reread books?”

“Oh, I love to. I’ve reread almost all of my favourites.”

He looked at you smiling, amused once again by your answer. “How about this. Let’s read your favourite book together, and then next time we can read mine?”

“Oh? Next time? You’re that sure it’s going to go well tonight?” you asked teasingly, giggling to yourself.

You stood up and walked to the shelving, immediately finding your current favourite book and pulling out two copies. You got comfortable on the sofa once again and handed one copy to Harvey. “This is a current favourite, but I haven’t had a chance to reread it yet. It’s a university-based hockey romance and the main character is a PhD student who’s half-Indian and vehemently hates hockey players. I loved it. If you don’t like it, please. Do not tell me. I can’t cope with that much heartbreak.”

You beamed at him and Harvey felt his heart melt at your expression. You were clearly passionate and excited to share this book with him, and he was looking forward to reading it; to seeing into a small piece of your soul.

The pair of you read together for about an hour. You kept to a similar pace and offered casual commentary and anecdotes from time to time. You had to resist the urge to spoil the plot, sometimes only offering quiet hums as opposed to full sentences. You gradually felt yourselves growing physically closer, until you were laying down with your head next to his leg and your hair draped across his lap, legs dangling over the arm of the sofa. He was idly twirling a strand of your hair, only pausing to turn a page when necessary.

You finished the chapter you were reading and made a mental note of where you were up to before snapping the book closed. “Okay, I think we should call it. I’m starving.” You looked up at him from where your head was resting and watched as he closed the book without his hand leaving your hair.

“Sounds good to me, sweetheart. Since you chose the book, I’ll choose the restaurant. Sound good?” he asked, looking at you with that smile.

“Sounds great, sweetheart,” you replied, playfully teasing him.

───────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────

After the success that was reading and dinner that night, the pair of you went on another date. And another. And another. The pair of you got to know each other like the backs of your hands and became unashamedly infatuated with one another. Harvey told you about his brother, Marcus, and you told him about yours. You mostly focussed on childhood stories about your whizz-kid brother with the photographic memory, but you occasionally did update Harvey on your brother’s relationship with his mentor. All positive, but you sometimes did joke that he sounded like he could be a bit of a dickhead.

After about a month of consistently seeing each other, you discussed meeting the family. You were in his apartment with your head on his lap, the pair of you laying in his big comfy bed.

“Well, I only have Michael. Our parents passed when we were pretty young and my grandma passed almost a year ago. So you only have to deal with my brother and my best friend. Super easy,” you told him, idly tracing his skin with your index finger.

“I have my brother and his family; he’s got a wife and kids. And then my mother but we don’t talk. So a similar situation for you. Brother and some friends. I’d say you can meet my associate and colleagues but they’d grill me rather than you. So would Marcus, actually.”

You giggled at his words but stopped as the seriousness of your relationship started to set in. Talking about meeting the family was a big step for you considering how little family you had. Letting someone into that trauma felt extremely vulnerable but just as quickly as you felt nervous, you felt calm. You were ready for this. You wanted this with Harvey. You decided to mess with him regardless.

“So… You think you’re ready to meet the family, hm? That’s a pretty big step,” you started, pretending to be deadly serious.

“Oh? Is it now? You don’t want to meet my family?” he asked, tone playful but you could tell there was an undertone of nervousness when he spoke.

“Well, I don’t think two people engaging in a casual fling have any business meeting each other’s families. Don’t you agree?” you continued to tease, though Harvey couldn’t tell you were only teasing.

“Is that what you think this is? A casual fling?” The hurt was starting to show in his voice and you smiled, not at his pain, but at the fact that clearly the pair of you were on the same page with how serious your relationship had become.

“Is that not what you think it is? Do we need to have the what are we conversation?” The teasing lilt to your voice was obvious this time, which immediately eased Harvey’s nerves and put him out of his misery. He smiled at you, smile lines popping and his eyes sparkling once again.

“No conversation necessary, baby. You’re my girl and I’m your man.” He tugged on the piece of your hair that was wrapped around his finger, causing you to smile.

“My man? Too old for the boyfriend title, hm? Old man,” you joked, poking him in the abdomen.

“I’ll show you old man,” he replied, flipping you so that you were pinned to the mattress under him. The pair of you were a giggly, smiley mess, both excited to have established what you were to each other. Both true romantics at heart.

The next morning Harvey left you in his bed, heading to the office after kissing you goodbye. You watched him get dressed and style his hair, finishing his process by skillfully tying his tie. You watched his hands move the whole time, thinking about how they were all over you the previous night, and you sighed contentedly. Once he left, you flopped back onto his bed, hair fanning out across the pillows as you inhaled your boyfriend’s scent.

You spent the next few hours reading, gratefully taking advantage of your day off. You made yourself an at-home coffee and easily moved around Harvey’s lavish apartment whenever you wanted a change of scenery, taking full advantage of the space. At around midday, you placed a lunch order to pick up from your and Harvey’s favourite café and got dressed, opting for a pretty white sundress. You left your hair down in its natural form and quickly left Harvey’s building, picked up lunch, and headed in to his office building.

On your way to Harvey’s office you, surprisingly, bumped into your brother.

“Mike? What are you doing here?” you asked, not expecting to see him today.

“Obviously I’m lawyer-ing, Y/N. What else?” he replied. His sassy tone was an exact mirror image of how yours sometimes was with Harvey, and the fact that you were siblings became extremely obvious if someone focussed on your mannerisms.

“You mean fake lawyer-ing?” you teased, tone matching his perfectly.

“Ha ha. What are you doing here?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he looked at you, taking in your appearance in his place of work and the bag in your hand.

“Obviously I’m bringing lunch to my boyfriend, Michael. What else?” you mocked playfully, wide smile on your face.

“Boyfriend? Here? Who’s your boyfriend?” he started to ask, but before he could grill you, you spotted Harvey walking towards you.

“Hey, Harvey,” you beamed, greeting him with a warm smile as he walked up to you.

He leaned down to give you a quick peck, completely ignoring Mike’s presence. “Hi, baby,” he mumbled, smiling back at you. He finally turned to look at Mike. “Mike, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Sweetheart, this is my associate that I’ve been telling you about, Mike-”

“Mike Ross,” you interrupted, smiling as the realisation set in. Harvey’s associate was your brother. Your brother’s mentor was your boyfriend. You threw your head back laughing once you realised, shocked that nobody had put the pieces together sooner. “Harvey, meet my brother. Michael Ross.”

The shared look on both of their faces was priceless. They looked at you as if you’d sprouted another head, which only made you laugh more. Both of them joined in once they realised the situation, with Mike being the first one to break the circle of laughs in the middle of the office.

“So this is the hotshot lawyer you’ve been basically ignoring me for?” he asked you, gesturing towards Harvey. “And this is the barista slash bookworm you’ve been dumping all your work on me for?” he asked Harvey, gesturing towards you.

You both nodded and agreed with a perfectly in-sync, “Yes.”

Harvey looked between you both in disbelief. “Wait a minute. Your last name isn’t Ross.” He was asking a question without actually asking, as he often did.

“Very good observation, Harvey,” you replied.

“Yeah, thank you, Captain Obvious,” Mike chimed in, causing you to smile. The two of you had always been a sarcastic duo, irritating a lot of your older relatives in your younger years.

“Oh my god,” Harvey mumbled, “There’s two of them. Exactly alike. How did I not realise?”

“To answer your unasked question,” you started pointedly, focussing on your boyfriend and suppressing your giggles, “I took my mother’s maiden name as soon as I was able to. Y/N Ross just sounds ugly, and this way, I get to honour her.”

Both Harvey and Mike visibly softened at your explanation. Harvey snapped out of it after a moment. “You’ve been talking shit about me to your pretty sister?” he asked Mike, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

“She was my sister before she was your girlfriend, man. That’s my right,” he replied, punching Harvey right back. “Speaking of, if you ever hurt her, I’ll-”

“What are you going to do? Fake lawyer him?” you jumped in at Harvey’s defence, keeping your voice quiet since you were still in a communal area.

“No, I was going to say I’d beat his ass.”

“Like you could. Have you seen his arms?”

“Okay, can you stop thirsting over my boss right in front of me? That’s disgusting.” Mike pretended to gag at your behaviour and you rolled your eyes in response.

“I can do so much worse, Michael,” you teased, pulling Harvey down by his tie to meet your mouth in a (relatively tame) kiss. Mike said nothing but walked away, muttering to himself about your ‘disgustingly inappropriate behaviour’.

“Now that he’s finally gone,” you started after releasing Harvey from your hold and holding up the bag in your hand, “Lunch?”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

oh my lord this was long. i wrote this in multiple sits. nonnie, i hope this was up to your standards. i hope i did your request justice. pls pls pls do give feedback. thank u so much for your request. there are more requests in my inbox which I'll be getting to in the coming days so send them in! for any suits characters, not just harvey! plus characters from other media! (warning, i know nothing about most things but if i can write for you, i will <3)

taglist: @shadowinthedarkknight @strawberriesareprettycool

#harvey specter #harvey specter x reader #suits netflix #suits usa #harvey specter x you #harvey specter fanfic #suits tv #suits fanfic #mike ross #mike ross x reader #mike ross x harvey specter #marvey #i love harvey specter so much it makes my bones hurt #mike ross you are my best friend forever

220 notes · View notes

runningfrom2am · 10 months ago

Text

empty threats // LTPF

summary: you get in trouble at school, and don't want to go home just yet.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.4k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. they're just little in this one :'), so no real warnings. besides r being a little violent and threatening, but what's new lol. non-descript mentions and implications of abuse.

a/n: hi! thought i'd post this before s2 of cold nights bc,,, i'm not ready to let this series go just yet lol. this was (kind of) requested a couple of times so i do intend to write another thing ab them before the series! maybe p2 to 'the finer things in life'? lmk

(also would y'all call me crazy if i said this was based on something i actually did in middle school? yes? okay in that case that was a joke. thanks.)

series masterlist // playlist

You were having a bad day. A bad week. Bad month. The academy had not been treating you well this year- nothing really was. But school especially was kicking your ass.

You did well, consistently. A's, A+'s, and it was only at the small cost of your sanity. You hardly slept anymore- which is part of the reason your father started allowing you to wear makeup at the beginning of the year. To hide how dark the circles under your eyes were- how pale you were getting from lack of sunlight and exercise, and the bruises that happened to be visible on warmer days where you weren't required to wear your blazer.

You hadn't slept in a week, you were sure. It was hard to tell. Days and nights blurred together; you were effectively a zombie at fourteen. Even you knew that wasn't right.

"Y/N/N." You didn't realize you were falling asleep leaning on your palm, elbow pressed uncomfortably against the surface of the desk.

"Huh?" You blink rapidly, looking over to the source of your name.

"You okay?" Coryo chuckles quietly, looking you over as he almost always did.

"Never been better." You sigh, shaking your head to refocus yourself on writing the notes on the board.

"You sure about that? I'm not exactly inclined to believe you."

"Yes." You nod, having to lean to the side to even see the board. You didn't notice when Arachne finished her notes and stood right in your line of sight to talk to Livia, who was sitting in front of you.

Yes, your teacher had allowed you to discuss upcoming assignments when you were finished copying down the paragraphs on the board, but that didn't mean Arachne should block your view.

"Arachne." You say, waving for her to move when she looks down at you.

"Have you no manners?" She asks, tilting her head at you.

"Move. Please." You really don't have the patience to argue.

"No thank you, I'm alright here." She smiles, sickly sweet, before promptly returning to her conversation.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in before slowly letting it out through your nose. "I'm trying to write, and your massive head is blocking the entire board. Move, now."

Coryo snickers beside you, his notes already long done as he sits back to watch.

"We're trying to have a conversation. Some of us have lives outside of school, you know." Arachne digs her grave deeper, crossing her arms as she stares down at you.

You grip your pen in your hand so tight you're afraid it might break.

"Don't." Coryo says to you, reaching out to grab your shoulder in an effort to calm you. He knew this look on you; you looked like you were about to detonate.

You ignore him, trying to look past her again, but she takes a sidestep to the left intentionally blocking your view now. Back and forth, whichever way you lean she's conveniently moving to be right in your line of sight. You try to listen to Coryo and not cause a scene, you really do, but your patience was deteriorating by the second.

"Arachne, I swear to god I will hit you so hard with this book if you don't get out of my way that you'll have worse memory loss than usual. Move."

"Y/N/N, here, let's just switch. You can see just fine from-" Your friend suggests, already standing up to move and open his seat to you.

"Oh, is that so?" The girl laughs at you. "It's not like these notes will ever matter to you. You probably don't even know what that-"

Within a second you're standing, grabbing the textbook from your desk and swinging it at her.

It hits the side of her head with a loud crack that has her stumbling back. Other students are laughing, you can hear it, but only echoes as you breathe heavily.

You smile as she clutches the side of her head, stumbling down into her empty seat. "Thank you." You nod, moving to sit back down and resume taking your notes. Suddenly, you're feeling much more awake; refreshed at being able to channel your frustration into something physical.

Coryo stares at you, almost in shock. Almost, because Arachne should have known that coming from you, there was no such thing as an empty threat.

"Miss Y/L/N!" Your teachers voice bellows as Arachne starts to cry.

God, she's such a baby.

You aren't given the chance to defend yourself before Coryo is speaking up for you. "Sorry, Sir. She's just had a tough week." You shoot him a look and you can see the panic in his eyes, wracking his mind for a way to excuse your violence in a forgivable manner. "I'll take her down to the office." He's helping you up out of your seat before grabbing your books and your bag for you.

Your teacher clearly doesn't have the energy to get into it with you today so he nods, waving for the two of you to go.

"It's just, you know, lady problems." Coryo says as you pass the teacher on his way over to Arachne, who now has Livia fanning her face with a book as if that would help.

"Just, get her out of here." Your teacher says again.

"Of course you would know- just get your insane girlfriend away from me. I can't look at her anymore." Arachne whines, still clutching the side of her head.

You grit your teeth and jam your elbow into your friends ribs at the unnecessary comment right as you exit the doorway.

"Ow!" He winces, looking back to make sure no one saw. "I helped you!"

"I am not on my period, Coriolanus." You hiss, glaring up at him as he walks beside you. "You're such a pig."

"How am I supposed to know! I just know you assaulted Arachne and that's a hard act to excuse. I tried my best."

"You're lucky I'm not. If I was I'd gut you like a fish right now." You grumble, pulling your bag from his shoulder and giving him a shove back.

"I'll count myself lucky then." He chuckles. He never took anything mean you say to him too personally or too seriously. Your threats only ever seemed to be empty when they were directed at him.

"Coryo! Y/N/N! Wait!" You turn and cross your arms as you wait for Sejanus who's speed walking down the hall to catch up.

"Oh, you're late to the party." You grin, raising an eyebrow at him.

"He sent me to escort you guys, didn't want you to sneak off before actually going to the office." He explains as the three of you continue down the hall.

You groan, rolling your eyes. "Ugh, him too?"

"Gross." Coryo mutters.

"Excuse you, that was rude!" You laugh, bumping your shoulder against his arm. You didn't notice when he started to get taller than you, it seemingly happened overnight.

"And I stand by it." He replies, shaking his head at you as you gasp in mock offense.

"I'm wounded, Coryo. Truly."

"Yeah, you guys are never beating those allegations. Sorry." Sejanus laughs.

"True, but it would be nice if he didn't act like i'm repulsive all the time."

"I do not act like you're repulsive!"

"You guys argue like an old married couple. It's cute."

You don't know what prompted you to walk here. Anxiety, maybe, after the receptionist at the office was instructed by Dean Highbottom to call your father this afternoon while you were in the office.

You stand outside the entrance to Coryo's apartment building, pacing in your academy uniform. You stop, staring at the call panel.

"Level 12 Penthouse: Snow"

You chew your lip, looking down at your watch. It was almost five, you wasted time sitting in after school detention staring at the wall. Just press it. You didn't walk all this way just to go home anyways. Press it.

The buzzer is ringing out of the speaker before you can overthink it.

"Uh, hello?" His voice is crackly on the other end, hardly even audible if you weren't panicking over who would answer.

"Coryo, it's me. Can I come in?"

"Uh, hold on. I'll come down." His voice cuts out and you wait for the buzzer that signifies the door is unlocked, but it doesn't come.

You try the handle anyway, but it remains locked. You groan, peeking in for the first time through the large glass windows that made up the entrance to the lobby.

It was a damn mess in there. Garbage bags everywhere, it looked like the floors or the walls hadn't been cleaned in years. Why on earth was there no maintenance in his building? You knew he had a driver, a chef, maids to clean his own apartment, or so he said. Would it be so hard to have the building cleaned every week?

It's a good few minutes before you see your friend open the doors to the stairs, and looking over at the elevator while he walks up to the door you see there's a maintenance sign on it. That was broken, too. Your brow furrows as he walks up to the glass door, shoving it open.

"Y/N... What are you doing here?" He asks, and you give him a once over. He's still wearing his academy uniform, just like you, but without the skirt that drapes around his legs. The buttons are partially undone and buttoned unevenly.

"I, uh..." You start, giving a slight shake of your head. "Why are you still in your uniform?"

"I haven't had the chance to change.." He lies, eyeing you quizzically. He definitely won't be telling you that his only casual clothes are noticeably too small on him, ankles showing in the only pyjama pants he owns so he had to throw this back on in a rush. Usually, he just sleeps in his boxers and only leaves the house in dress clothes. "What's going on?" He asks, changing the subject.

You take a deep, shaky breath and shake your head. "I... was just hoping you'd want to hangout." You smile, but it's not convincing enough for him.

"Oh, uh, I'm a little busy right now..." He glances back inside.

"Of course. Yes. I'm sorry." You nod, slightly disappointed.

"But, I mean, it's just homework. If you have your stuff we could work on it together." He suggests, sensing your discomfort.

"Came straight from school!" You grin, patting your bag where it hangs at your waist.

"Uh, okay..." He chuckles a bit, checking the time on his watch before reaching past you to buzz his own apartment.

You wait for a moment before another voice rings out.

"Hello?"

"It's me."

"Coryo, did you lock yourself out again?" His cousin sighs.

"Again?" You gasp, covering your mouth as you laugh quietly at him.

His cheeks flush. "No, I didn't. I was hoping you could bring my school bag down to me, Y/N and I are going to hers to work on homework."

Your smile fades as he volunteers your home. The reason you came was because you didn't want to go back there. Not yet.

"I'll be right down!"

You hear the click of it disconnecting and he smiles at you. "Just give her a minute."

"We can't- Uh..." How to word this without sounding weird. "My brother has friends over, I think. They're always super loud so that's why I came here..."

"Oh, okay. Well..." He looks back inside again. "We can find somewhere else to go. My grandma'am is sleeping, that's all."

You're both lying to each others faces and neither of you knew.

"Sounds good." You nod. "My brother and his friends are just like, so annoying. I wish they would just get together and like... read or something..." You laugh nervously, rubbing your arm.

"I get it." He hums and you laugh.

"As if, Coryo, you are that younger brother."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not."

"This is exactly how my little brother fights with me so..."

"Except I don't have siblings. So that's impossible."

"Yes you do."

"No, I don't."

"You do!" You laugh. "You realize the genetic components have like... nothing to do with that, right? Tigris is effectively your sister. You live together, for christs sake. Besides, I know I'm right because of... everything." You gesture to him vaguely and he glares at you.

"That's why we get along so well." You smile sweetly at him. "I'm a big sister. I know exactly how to handle little brothers. And you're used to having a big sister around, so you tolerate me."

"Tigris is not my sister, and you are nothing like her."

You playfully roll your eyes. "I wouldn't know. But I would bet money that we have more in common than you know."

"Definitely not." He protests, shaking his head as Tigris steps out of the stairwell with his book bag in hand. She smiles and waves at you as she comes up to the door, opening it to hand it out to him.

"Thank you." He nods, and she turns to you, blocking the door from closing as she stands there.

"Y/N, how are you?" She smiles, holding her housecoat around herself. It had been a long time since you'd seen her- she left the academy before you were old enough to study in the same buildings.

"I'm well, thank you." You smile. "Yourself?"

"I'm good." She nods. "How is school treating you?"

You laugh, shrugging and reaching up to rub your eyes. "Well enough, I suppose. Gives me something to do."

She smiles, sadly, and nods. You look over at Coryo quickly. "Should we be going then?"

He nods. "Yes, we should. Thank you, Tigris."

"Of course." She grins, waving you off as you make your way back down the steps ahead of him.

Coryo throws his bag over his shoulder, rushing to follow you as he notices his mismatched buttons and quickly tries to fix it. "Where do you want to go?" He asks, and you shrug.

"Maybe the park? It's a nice day out." You offer.

He looks around. It wasn't that nice- there was a thin overcast of clouds that suggested it may start to rain, and there wasn't much time before the sun would set. "I mean, it looks like it's going to rain. Noise doesn't bother me, we could just go to your house."

You sigh, looking down at your feet as you walk in no particular direction, kicking a stone across the broken pavement. "No." You quickly dismiss it. "What about the old bomb shelter? I know how to get into the one on my block. There's an unlocked door."

Your friend wrinkles up his nose at the suggestion. "Isn't it gross and dusty and dark?"

"It's not that bad." You laugh. "Don't be a baby."

"Do you remember the bombings?" You ask, pushing aside an old curtain in the underground shelter.

"I don't think I could forget if I wished to." Coryo mutters, looking around. It was dusty, but you had found a light switch very quickly. The lights overhead flickered after years of not being used, but for some reason, power was still connected. Like they were still on standby, waiting for another flood of terrified people to swarm in during the night after years of being left untouched.

"Me neither." You hum, adjusting your bag over your shoulder. "We slept over there." You point vaguely to a far corner of the vast space of old bunk beds and tables.

"Cozy." Coryo mumbles, stepping around a crack in the ceiling where water had dripped down into a puddle on the floor.

You laugh as you place your bag down on a table, quickly removing your blazer to dust off the bench next to it so the two of you could sit. You won't get in any more trouble for dirtying your uniform than you already are for hitting your classmate.

You lay the red material down across it and use your palms to wipe the table so your friend would be more comfortable placing his stuff there. "Here, sit." You smile, patting the spot next to yourself.

"Thanks." He nods, eyes locked on the yellowing bruise that falls around your wrist. It was previously unnoticeable under the shadow of your blazer sleeve, but now with only your blue dress shirt slightly folded up, it was clear as day. To him, anyway. His eyes flick up to your face as you dig through your bag, so blissfully unaware that now he knows why you came to him instead of going home. He hadn't thought of it before.

"Well?" You turn, raising an eyebrow at him when he doesn't make an effort to move. "You scared or something? I don't bite."

He shakes himself out of his stupor of realization. Maybe one day he would say something, but that certainly wouldn't be today. "I'm pretty sure you do." He jokes, sliding into the spot next to you.

"Oh, how you think so little of me." You laugh as he starts pulling papers and books out of his bag. A small smile tugs on his lips, but he doesn't look at you. You tilt your head a little bit, watching his movements closely. He's so sophisticated for a boy who just turned fourteen.

"I was working on math before you showed up. Want to do that first?" His lips are moving suddenly, and you only notice after that he's looking at you.

"Oh, yes. Sure." You smile, quickly turning back to your own notebooks and pulling out the right one. You didn't want to work on homework, not at all, but it was better than being at home.

"What page are you on?" Coryo asks absentmindedly, flipping through his textbook to note both where he is and where you are. You didn't need his help, but he was happy to offer it.

"236. You?"

"250."

"You're fast." You giggle, shaking your head as you look at him.

"Well, I had an hour when I got home, so..."

"Right." You wonder as you stare at his blonde curls if they get poofy when he brushes it. It must. He clearly hasn't had a haircut in quite a while. You twist the ends of your own hair between your fingers. You haven't either.

Coryo's brow is furrowed in concentration as he tries to read in the mediocre lighting, copying down the equation he was working on.

"Why are you friends with me?" You ask impulsively, and his writing hand freezes for just a moment.

"Because... You're nice to me." He answers simply, resuming the question he was on.

"I'm not that nice to you." You giggle. "Everyone is nice to you, mostly."

"Yes, well, you're funny too. It seems that all our classmates have monkey brains, or something."

"So you think I'm smart?" You tease, leaning your chin on your palm.

"Aren't you?" He deflects the question back to you, not risking looking your way.

"I like to think so." You shrug. "But that's not a good reason to be friends with someone."

"Then why are you friends with me?"

You bite your lip, picking up your pencil and suddenly finding an interest in the bite marks you've left in the wood over the last week. "I don't know." You say honestly. "You're nice to me... I suppose." You laugh, seeing the irony in your response.

Coryo finally looks at you, smiling knowingly. "See?"

"Okay, fine. But I like to think we get along really well, don't you think?" You really don't want to do your homework, deciding it would be better to just talk anyway. That's why you went to him, you realize. You wanted to talk.

"Sejanus said we bicker like an old married couple." He chuckles.

"Well, yes, but he's wrong. Besides, an old couple wouldn't be married if they didn't at least get along most of the time."

He nods, tapping his pencil against his notebook. "I guess you're right." He agrees. "But we don't really fight, it's just... pretend. You know that, right?" He looks at you hopefully, trying to pick up on a sense of understanding in your eyes.

"Well, duh." You giggle nervously. "If we really fought I wouldn't be your friend. I'd hit you with a book, as we know."

He nods, but doesn't laugh at your joke. "I wouldn't hurt you on purpose. Ever." Don't look at her wrist, don't look at her wrist, don't look at-

"I know." You nod, speaking quieter now as you feel the seriousness in his tone. The smile on your face is genuine, but he can tell it's forced beyond sadness. "Maybe that's why I'm friends with you."

"That's a good reason." He says softly, matching your smile. "Trust is the most important thing."

You think he doesn't know how much that means to you, but he does. You force yourself to look away quickly, torn between the urges to both cry and kiss him. You'd never kissed anyone before, but you'd decided when other girls started having boyfriends who they only stayed with for a week that if you had to pick anyone, it would be Coryo. Something tells you he wouldn't break your heart.

"So you trust me?" You ask, blinking away tears as you pretend to focus on your schoolwork.

"Of course I do."

taglist:@totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world @nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey , @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl

206 notes · View notes

eddiediazismyhusband · 4 months ago

Note

It's not about baiting anyone with tags. The issue here is where you draw the line of whether it's a major relationship tag or a minor one. With 2/3 of a story being about BT it's pretty simple and should have been tagged as such.

But in other cases? What do you consider worth a "minor BT" tag? When is it too much for it?

It's a subjective matter. Your answer will be different to mine or the next person over. (Even though I suspect no one will even listen to my opinion on it, because everyone is so convinced I'm part of the BT squad which is just hilarious.)

Whatever. I'm not going to bother you anymore. Have a nice evening.

you’re still going…?

anon, it’s not that hard to sit back and look and see how big of a part a ship plays in your story. it’s not subjective to look at your fic and say “huh, they show up a lot and play a big part of this story. i should probably tag them as a major ship that is included” or “they don’t really show up much at all”

if you’re not sure somehow then tag it as a major ship to be better safe than sorry. it’s better to overcompensate than to undersell and leave people clicking on fics when they don’t have all the information and reading stuff they don’t wanna read

and like ive said in previous responses and in responses to others as well: custom tags exist too. tell your readers exactly what they are going into. don’t be cryptic and leave shit out. Idk who you are or why you’re so deadset on this fake grey area you keep insisting exists when obviously no one on any of these posts agrees with you.

i have stated clearly in multiple responses what constitutes minor tags and regular tags so i don’t really understand how you still aren’t grasping the concept of tagging your shit correctly; especially when no one else seems to see this grey area you keep mentioning.

i really do hope you stop bothering me because repeatedly saying the same shit to you over and over (especially when everyone is agreeing with me) is starting to feel like talking to a brick wall when all you wanna do is keep arguing with me behind an anonymous message

now as far as people thinking that you’re a bt stan… that’s not on me bc i never insinuated that in any of my responses, so anyone forming that conclusion came to it on their own when they read your asks 🤷

#911 abc #911 #911 on abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buddie 911 #buck and eddie #911 buddie #buddie ao3 #ao3 buddie #anti bummy #anti tommy #anti tommy kinard #anti bucktommy #anti tevan

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xoxo-ren-xoxo · 14 days ago

Text

fic writer interview!

totally stealing this from @definitelynotshouting because it looks really fun and I haven't had a chance to yap about my own work in a while!

---<0>---

How many works do you have on AO3?

32! used to be more but I totally deleted some of my old Umbrella Academy fics, sadly - could be around 35 or 36 if I hadn't.

What's your total AO3 word count?

334,360... uh, most of that is from two specific fics haha.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

You Say You Feel Hollow (and you know it's 'cause you are) (HC/Life Series | 775)

INCOMING MESSAGE - COMM RECORDS (HC | 725)

“Man is condemned to be free” (DreamSMP | 547)

I Still Feel Alive (when it's hopeless, I start to notice) (Lunch Club | 488)

Let's Call It An Arrangement (HC | 460)

if you remember my lunch club fics no you don't. also kinda surprised to see the range of fics here - some of my older stuff and then some of my newest too!

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

yes! the only time I maybe won't is when it's a second or third comment in a thread and I have nothing else to say. even a '<3' comment will get a response. I don't get many comments, so I take the time to respond to them all. also, I share details about the writing process and lore of fics if people ask. so 🔫😐 comment to get secret knowledge. (in the same vein, I always respond to asks here about my fics!)

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

oh, man... I don't tend to leave fics on completely horrific endings in any case, but I would say probably my boatem pirate fic, It's All Part of Being a Pirate (HC). definitely the fic with the least ambiguously horrible fate for just everyone involved.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

uh... it depends on your idea of 'happy', honestly. Trembling Jaws Can't Stop Stuttering (HC) is a gore/cannibalism convexian fic that doubles as polyamory negotiations. a lot of people say they feel quite comforted by it despite the violence, especially because of the hopeful ending, so I suppose that qualifies as happy. on the other hand, my alternate canon fic, “Man is condemned to be free” (DreamSMP) is ultimately hurt/comfort with a happy(ish) ending, but you have to get through a lot of literal torture and pain first. so... not exactly 'happy'.

Do you write crossovers?

no, but I do come up with ideas for them quite frequently. I'm just not really compelled to actually write them. my favourite universe to put my blorbos into at any given time is the hunger games. I also do get inspired by other media when coming up with my original ideas - there are definitely hints of shows and films I've watched in some of my fics.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

not traditionally, but since I write a lot of gore and cannibalism that is quite graphic (and I do properly tag it of course) sometimes I get people commenting that they weren't expecting such graphic violence, or that it disturbed them. which... idk man, read the tags? it doesn't really bother me to get those comments, I usually just remind them that I did tag it all and they chose to click, but I hope they enjoyed regardless.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

my insane AU *ideas* definitely have way more smut in them than my regular fics (which have none). alas, most of those ideas are sealed away in the DMs of my most trusted confidant (you know who you are) and I am way too asexual to actually write it seriously. those ideas also feature more noncon, dubcon, and general abuse trauma than I would be comfortable sharing on my actual account. they are mostly very cathartic ideas that wouldn't get developed into full fics. I do, however, have a post detailing my headcanons for convexian as a trio on the asexual-autistic-cannibalism spectrum. and yes, those three things are inherently linked. that post and the fics that go with it are as explicit as my works get, really. sometimes I will hint at sex / make innuendos in one-off lines, though.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope. I've had a few tumblr posts reposted on instagram, but to my knowledge nothing of mine has been outright stolen... sometimes I see people using very similar plots or styles to mine (particularly in the homoerotic cannibalism genre) and go 'haha it would be funny if they were inspired by my fic' but I'm not popular or egotistical enough to be mad about that.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope. that would be cool, but I'm in pretty english-centric fandoms right now. my aunt had one of her fics translated into five different languages, so I have a lot to live up to!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope, but sometimes I will get ideas from other people or they will get ideas from me. @angeart and I have co-written our Ari AU (HC), but that is more of a detailed summary than a fic. also go read it.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

I mean come on. did you think it wasn't going to be scarian? (but grumbo, convex, and all combinations of those four freaks, are also up there)

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

basically all of them. Kingdoms AU (HC) will haunt me forever though.

What are your writing strengths?

like others before me I'm just basing this on the comments I get - I am apparently very good at getting character voices right (which is something I do try particularly hard to do, but I honestly think sometimes I get it all wrong). one of my other strong points is writing both abstractly and very literally, especially with gore. I like weaving together metaphors and similes with more blunt descriptions of the physical senses. it seems to work.

What are your writing weaknesses?

oh baby I am terrible with action scenes. pure action really stumps me, and it's what I struggle with most in my professional writing too. that and consistent characterisation (I think in fic maybe it's a bit less of an issue, people don't *really* care if a character is slightly inconsistent, but I bug myself with it... 'he would NOT say that' is my internal motto) also sometimes I dive way too deep into the internal world and forget about the external - especially when a character has to do something simple like walk down the stairs or some other quite mundane action. then everything becomes quite confusing and loaded in too much metaphor and weirdness, something I noticed the most when re-reading the first chapter of Kingdoms AU.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I did it once. badly. I'm monolingual and stupid and my opinion on this is just sort of 'do whatever makes the story flow the best'.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

hamilton. i think. but I had ideas for my little pony and team crafted beforehand that I never wrote because i was, like, 10.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

honestly just wanna write more solo grub (grian x cub). hashtag grub violence.

What's your favorite fic you've written?

one of my least popular fics, and second most recent. Who can really tell? (Life Series) is one of the works that feels the most polished and creatively challenging. perhaps I love it so much because it's unpopular, but I genuinely think my characterisation of listener!bigb was some of my best. it remains amusing to me that its sister fic is my most popular fic by kudos. if you're reading this, perhaps go give it a chance ? 🥺 I also have a huge soft spot for COMMS AU (HC), of course. but it feels unfair to judge an unfinished fic against finished ones.

---<0>---

I don't usually tag people in these sorts of things, but if you wanna give it a go then definitely do! I totally stole the entire formatting and idea from shouting. I will tag @angeart a second time, but no pressure my partner in crime ;D

#ben chats shit on the internet #ill tag the main fandoms for funsies #hermitcraft #hermitshipping #traffic life #traffic smp #hermitblr #trafficblr #trafficshipping #life series #life series smp #tag meme #tag game #mcyt

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tomwambsgans · 2 months ago

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hi i'm new to succession and i love your blog and your meta. sorry if you've already talked about it but i'd like to know your opinion on this, since it seems the fandom is kind of split on their headcanons. do you think tom or greg knew they were gay before getting wrapped up with each other? if so, do you think either had committed relationships with men before meeting each other?

hi thank you! idk if you've gone through my #gay tom tag but i have a lot on tom's closetedness/repression in there, and i need to go through my greg posts and put the #gay greg tag on more of them but i've got that too. in any case i'll still summarize here:

firstly, i wanna say i sincerely do not think almost any gay person gets to adulthood while having had no idea. repression is like pushing information to a part of your brain that you don't access, not destroying that information altogether. tom is in his 40s and greg is like 30, so, yeah, they know. it's just about different levels of knowing.

basically i think that for both of them there's a wall between them and their awareness of their homosexuality, but greg's isn't nearly as strong for many reasons including that imo he's definitely actually had some gay experience. i've waffled a lot on exactly how much, but i would say greg has likely had many of them while stoned, which is the sort of thing that would be likely to give him not only the confidence but also the "excuse." idk if i think that greg has ever actually had a boyfriend, but i also can't definitively say he hasn't. i do think that if he did, it didn't end well. really with greg in particular i get big vibes that he's had gay experience that "proved" to him that being gay was bad and/or that men weren't safe partners - something like his first gay kiss being with a guy who also beat him up after the fact, or an attempted date at a gay bar winding up mugging him. and i do think that he hooked up in some way with andrew dodds while they smoked weed together too, so. him winding up dying the next night feels right along those lines. i think he goes back and forth on whether he's too ashamed of being gay to be conscious of the fact really fast.

tom, meanwhile, i pretty firmly say no, he has not had the kind of awareness required to actually enter a gay relationship. though i do think he's probably come very close to understanding/accepting himself at different points in his life, because repression isn't a straight line. it comes in waves. i think a very young tom probably showed some very obvious signs of crushes on other boys (this is one of my favorite hcs about it), including bullying the ones that he liked. and i imagine him liking basically every boy he knew at least a little. and then a highschool or college-aged tom having certain moments of clarity where he outright thinks "oh fuck. i'm gay" but then going right back to ignoring it. or at least letting that knowledge remain at a low simmer while he's too afraid to do anything about it. along those lines i also think he's had periods where he did technically accept it but not in the form of "i like men," but rather "i don't like women" and just ignoring the implication of the former. like, using his career as an excuse to not pursue anyone. the closest thing to gay experience i feel like tom might have had is being kissed on the cheek by a male friend (and subconsciously trying to engineer that situation again), flirting where he was able to not think about the fact that he was flirting, and some amounts of cruising that led nowhere. like, i truly believe that if tom had had gay sex for real before now, or even just made out with a guy, he would not be the way he is, lmao. bro has never experienced true happiness in his life before greg started to tug him out of the closet

#anonymous #gay tom #gay greg #meta #mine

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allastoredeer · 9 months ago

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I love theory/lore time!

https://www.tumblr.com/allastoredeer/742800213644853248/okay-i-put-my-thoughts-in-the-tags-but-it-wont?source=share

I wanted to say that I also agree with both intakes and those who overall theorize that the person/entity that owns Alastor's soul is either Eve or Roo.

Honestly, Idk if Eve and Roo are different or the same. Maybe they started as two separate entities, but after Eve ate the forbidden apple, they slowly became one. Kind of like how it seemed that Roo was an entity and not just a concept, what allowed Roo to get released in the physical world was the ingestion and possession of Eve… or maybe I'm just sippling.

Anyway, I think the main reason why I feel am not Alastor's contractor is because I just have this feeling that she is not a threat. The show makes it seem as if she was sort of conspiring against hell, but it does not make sense to me for a person who was basically that face of the resistance to sort of be a threat to Charlie and hell in general. She seems sketchy, not going to lie, and that whole thing of both Lilith and Alastor disappearing at the same time is highly suspicious, but idk… maybe I'm crazing but I do not feel such animosity from Alastor to Lilith.

One could look at Al's reaction to Lucifer as maybe a remainder to whom he may a deal (if it was Lilith), besides the obvious of him maybe threatening his position at the hotel. But if that was the case, I would think he would not act the way he does with Charlie. Yes, it can be argued that acts that way because he is trying to manipulate Charlie into something regarding the deal (probably… he is but we are uncertain of what he might really go for with the deal he made), but it just does not add. He might have a soft spot for women, but it does not add that he acted mildly with Charlie (the daughter of the person who owns his soul, in this scenario) when just the mention of him being on a leash had him losing his cool like he did with Husk in ep5. It does not add that he had a mental breakdown because he might have almost gotten attached and risked his life for this group of people (also because he might have overestimated his powers, and we do not exactly know how much the deal restricts him in terms of power). I totally see him working alongside her because he must gain what he has, but I just do not see it being so "friendly" with her. Or maybe I am just underestimating his acting skills.

My point is that (at least in my head, and the way I interpreted the situation) I see more possibility that Eve/Roo/something else is the one holding Al's soul and not Lilith. Now, again, it is really weird that both of them went away at the same time. My theory is that, somewhere along the lines (sometime after Al's made the deal maybe) both he and Lilith partner to maybe stop Eve/Roo or Eve/Roo made Al and Lilith confront in a way that made Lilith having to seek shelter in Heaven, and Alastor to go away. But I feel it was Lilith who might have asked Alastor to watch/help Charlie, and he might have agreed because it is convenient as well… and maybe because it was also Eve/Roo's order…

IDK maybe he is a double spy, and despite all this, he is trying to seek the perfect opportunity which is going to give him the chance to "move all the strings". I also headcanon that both might have a level of respect for one another but that is just a crazy thought of mine because they haven't even interacted so… idk

Anyway, sorry for the rant. Love how your mind thinks!

ALRIGHT IM HERE! I know this has been sitting in my inbox for the past week, but I'm here now and ready to get into it!

I've never considered the possibility that Eve and Roo are the same, but hmmm, thinking about it, I'm not so sure. In the opening of the show, it's said that evil already exists.

Angels shielded all from Evil. So, Roo (the literal Root of all Evil) will have existed long before Eve was even created. If she were using Eve as a host, however... ◉_◉ As being the first one to let evil into the world being the gateway (for a lack of better word) and Roo taking advantage of that...

It was Adam and Eve eating the apple that allowed evil to find it's way to Earth.

Like, the phrasing here says it all. "For with this single act of disobedience, evil FINALLY found its way into Earth."

So not only has evil existed for a long time, it's implied that it's been trying to find a way to get to Earth. (Also, the Roo theory brain is taking over, this whole scene, with these black tendrils growing, turning into a hand, and curling around Earth, do those not resemble roots to anyone? I'd gif it if I knew how, but it literally looks like roots growing up and wrapping themselves around humanity. ROOT OF ALL EVIL, come on, the symbolism is there.)

And with Alastor, I truly think he cares more than he wants. I think he cares more than he expected to. I know there's a lot of people who just do NOT think he does, and that he's going to be the big bad (or at least an antagonist), and while I don't disagree about the antagonist part (I can see him being an obstacle to get in their way), I just think there's going to be more to his character arc. I don't think he's just going to manipulate the hotel, betray everyone, and get all the power he's ever wanted and that's IT.

For one, as any writer knows, stories need conflict. Characters need conflict. One could argue that Alastor's deal is his conflict, but I think his true conflict is going to be getting attached to Charlie and co. and not wanting to. i think he's going to fight it tooth and nail, but I think, in the end, he's going to be their ally (or as much of an ally as he can be considering someone--most likely the actual antagonist of the show--has his soul).

And I agree with you about his relationship with Charlie. We can already see that he's a good at manipulating. The "Dad Beat Dad" episode gave us numerous examples of him using his relationship with Charlie (saying things like "We're all very proud of her," and that he's "happy to fulfill her bizarre requests") to get under Lucifer's skin, while Charlie is shown to whole-heartedly believe him. He IS a manipulator and he knows how to pin-point that insecurity to get what he wants.)

However, there's also examples in the show where he was kind and considerate to Charlie when he literally didn't need to be. There was no reason or benefit to him for doing so.

One example would be him going with her to assist in getting the cannibals help. He didn't need to do this. He got what he wanted. He officially has a deal with Charlie. He gave her the information she needs in exchange for a favor, there's no reason to linger. But he does, and not only does he freely suggest Cannibal Town, but he's going WITH her to recruit their help.

When Charlie is talking to Rosie to get said help, she's frantic and stumbling over herself, and Alastor pipes in to help her. Later, when Charlie is singing her song to convince the cannibals, he pipes in again (when it's obvious they're not entirely on board) to include that they'll get to eat angels, which is the tipping point that gets the town interested. And another time during that same song when he said "he knew she could do it all along." Charlie wasn't there, so who was he supposed to be manipulating in that scenario?

Rosie? As if Rosie doesn't already know Alastor's whole schtick, she was literally telling him about souls he could go make deals with earlier in the episode. Demons who are in a territory that they can't properly defend, which would make them desperate. Easy pickings to manipulate a few into giving up their souls.

He had faith in Charlie getting the cannibals to join and even helped her along every step of the way.

And that's not even mentioning the fact that he has literally let her use his cane twice. His cane, which Vivzepop has said is like an extension of himself. We haven't seen him let anyone else in the series touch his cane. Hell, he didn't even need to offer his cane in the first place, the microphone she was using earlier was still right there.

One could argue he was trying to get the cannibals to help so they could defend the hotel and have a better chance at, you know, NOT dying. But there's multiple times when he does things he didn't have to do, because there was literally no benefit of it to him. But he did.

Because I think he's more attached than he wants to believe.

Where was I...I went on an Alastor tangent.

But yes! The way I see it right now, I can see Roo going after Lillith because Lillith empowered demonkind.

Lucifer may the the ultimate ruler of Hell, but it's obvious that he didn't really...interact much with the rest of Hell. At least from what we've seen. He was ashamed of what he did and lost his will to dream.

He fell into depression. I think when he and Lillith had Charlie, it really did make him happy. I think it brought him out of his depression for a bit, but depression doesn't just...go away. At least not for everyone. And we do see that something had to happen between him and Lillith to result in them splitting up, AND something had to happen to him and Charlie to result in them not seeing each other for long periods of time, to the point of Charlie not even wanting to call him for help when she could really use it.

Guys been in depression for a while, and I can't see him getting involved with Hell, which he's ashamed of creating at all. I can see him being more than happy to step aside for Lillith to handle it herself. I don't think Roo would see him as much of a threat so long as he's not getting involved.

Because as the show says:

She literally EMPOWERED demonkind. Hell grew and evolved, and it became so much more. It became powerful enough for Heaven to not only take notice, but to get worried.

Lillith has MUCH more of an impact in Hell. She has more reach and authority, and I can see Roo being intimidated and/or threatened by that. There's a lot Roo (the Root of All Evil) can do in Hell, where the sinners and wicked go--those who commit evil acts. This should be her PLAYGROUD. But it's Lillith who has authority here.

So maybe Roo needed to get her out of the way? And how much farther can she get Lillith from Hell then having her go to Heaven?

I definitely think there's a connection between Alastor and Lillith. Maybe Lillith did enlist Alastor for his help. Maybe Roo already got Alastor's soul and he helped her, in some way, get Lillith to go to Heaven. I don't know what the connection is, but I'm so eager to find out.

(Also, can we all talk about how Lillith empowered demonkind with her voice, her songs, and Charlie is out here singing every time she wants to help Hell--when she first got the meeting with Adam, when she's trying to convince Adam of her plan, her song with Pentious, etc... And when Rosie asks how she typically tries to get people interested in her hotel, she does so by singing. All of her songs are about love, redemption, being better, working together, almost as if she's trying to empower demonkind with her voice too.)

I think we should talk more about not only what Charlie gets from Lucifer, but what she gets from Lillith as well.

But YES, I'm just so eager to see the whole deal with Alastor and Lillith, and I REALLY think Roo is going to come into play here somewhere. I really do. If not now, then later.

Personally, I still think Roo has Alastor's soul, but who knows? Maybe Lillith DOES have Alastor's soul, but Roo blackmailed/threatened Lillith into going to Heaven, so Lillith ordered Alastor to keep an eye on Charlie for her? Who knows? No one.

Who wants to know? ME!

fgo;fg;sgnsjn AHH I fucking love talking about this show, it gets my brain going.

#Im so happy there's more people jumping on the Roo train #I love to see it #My girl Roo needs some attention #Also #We need to talk about Lillith more #and not in this super hateful angry way fans have been treating her #I mean like #legitiamtely talk about her character and motivations and reasons that doesn't boil down to her being a 'bad wife'#or 'leaving poor sad depressed Lucifer'#people be acting like she commited the worst sin by just the fact that they split up #WE DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY THEY SPLIT UP #my girl be getting so much hate its unsettling #we love and appreciate Lillith in this house #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #the radio demon #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lillith #lillith #eve #charlie #charlie morningstar #hazbin charlie #the root of all evil #Roo hazbin #Roo hazbin hotel #asks

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transgaledekarios · 1 year ago

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I would be so curious to hear some of your thoughts on why you hc gale as trans. Because like, I also instinctually had that thought? But I had previously just attributed it to me projecting ^^’’

Oooo of course! Yay thank you for the ask! So there are a few things. There will be spoilers for the game, and I will tag that, but just a heads up.

The first is small, easy to miss/ignore. If you look at his underwear description, it says it’s enchanted. With what? Who knows. My thought is they have some basic cleanliness/freshness spells, but also, magical packer. Obviously. Enchantment refers to the school of magic in 5e, and this is about charms and illusions. What exactly needs an illusion in his underwear? Magical packer makes perfect sense to me

Another sign for me is the way he is very…. Shy? About his body. He makes a comment about how he even waited for Tara to leave the room before undressing for bed. Which…fair. Tara is very smart, but she still is an owlcat. And I thought to myself hmm. What could make a grown adult so uncomfortable with showing their body, in any state of undress not just fully nude, even in non sexual situations?

My next one is connection to the previous. In a possibly orgy situation in act 3 (one that he actually seems into, because he likes the idea of watching you). He does his switcharoo thingy with the magical projection of him and he said a very specific line that had me go hmmm. He comments that uhuh, yes this is me. Nude. Definitely “anatomically correct”. He says those exact two words. And while this could be interpreted as a small dick joke (oh haha hilarious. Cis man with a small dick how funny 😐.) if this is the case, I’d actually be really disappointed in Larian. But I think it becomes more interesting in the case that like. He has no dick, and he’s not about to out himself to strangers.

My other thought is the romance and sex scenes with him themselves. The “normal” sex scene has him and Tav completely clothed. And fades to black. Which, to me, supports the idea that he’s a bit nervous and shy about his body. Uncomfortable with showing even the audience he’s not aware of. There’s some kind of discomfort there he needs to overcome before he can share his body, even partially nude, with someone. The astral sex scene (which is very fun btw) has a lot more happening, but you never see any genitals. Just bright light. Which I also thought was interesting. With an astral projection, he can do wtvr he wants, (even have three of him) to please you. And he’s confident and sure of himself. Practiced. Why? Because wtvr insecurity he has in his body, he can smooth over and ignore in the astral plane.

I like to imagine that he and my tav, Cordelia, have a long, heartfelt talk about it. And she’s eventually able to soothe his insecurities (at least in how it relates to her seeing him, idk that he’ll ever be comfortable with strangers or near-strangers seeing his body).

These are all that I can think of at the moment, there may be more that I just forgot. (I’ll need to replay his romance eventually).

Thanks again for the ask! 🧡🧡🧡

#bg3 spoilers #bg3 gale #trans gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #my thoughts #bg3

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thegamingcatmom · 6 months ago

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Hello, I've been reading a lot of your stuff about the Denali sisters and also read your first chapter too (Very good btw) I have to say I love the Denali sisters, Tanya especially but I am conflicted because I feel as if the way people see them is very different from how I imagine them, and hey that is alright because to each their own and in the end we write/read many times to comfort ourselves. Thing is, when are we crossing a line here? I love what you're doing, love their wild side, their more predatory way of seducing reader (who in my mind is their mate, weather we believe in mate stuff or not is a whole diff story but thats my reasoning behind choosing reader) but we're facing stuff ehre like kidnapping, abducting and only the writer knows what more is in store for poor reader, and that in my eyes is not a healthy relationship, is making them (my fav characters in this case) to be hella toxic and shit and though I'm loving all your HC's and loving the chapte, even wanting to read more to see where it leads as I said I can't help but feel sad because falling in love is one thing but this is just pure idk, instinct? I ask myself like as reader would I really fall in love with this kind of people who induced the trauma of sorts, like ofc I know this is fiction ands tuff but yk I think way too much over things that I shouldn't. Idk if that made any sense because it's hard to put into words what I mean and I suck at explaining stuff, a clsoed book would be easier to read than me lol. I understand vampires are intense,a re possessive and jealous but to what extent? ANYWAY i'm sorry for this long ass ask and I hope it doesn't bother you the things I said? if it did I'm really sorry I didn't ask any of this with ill intention, I'm honestly curious. Have a good day <3

Hello there!

First of all: Thanks a lot for your very honest opinion on this and that you felt comfortable enough to reach out to me. Critisism is important and always very much appreciated. 🫶

I also wanna thank you for complimenting the stuff I´ve done so far, I´m really happy you like it! <3

I agree with you that ppl view them differently, and that´s absolutely alright. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion and, sometimes, that opinion vastly differs from ours or how we´ve come to understand someone else´s view on them. Which, again, that´s absolutely alright.

Now to the story I´m writing:

You correctly stated that it´s not a healthy relationship, at all. (Not at its current stage, at least.) However, this was entirely my intention when I started writing it. I want the sisters to come across as these feral, instinct-driven beings who more or less turn a blind eye to MC´s struggles (at first). That´s the great thing about fanfiction: You´re not bound/limited to canon. You can go absolutely wild and try out things and storylines you´ve always wanted to see playing out. This is me going absolutely wild.

Does that mean I see the Denali sisters solely as masochistic, sadistic beings who only have their own interests at heart? Absolutely not. (Something that becomes more clear as we progress further with the story.) This is merely a different take on them. I still very much see them as your loving girlfriends/mates/wives who´d do absolutely anything for you...in an alternate universe. (At least with how things currently stand.) 😅

I´ve always been drawn to darker topics that really question the morality of it all. I´m aware that this is not for everyone, and that´s totally fine. But that´s what tags and warnings are for. If you feel like this story isn´t for you, then I kindly ask you to skip this one. I´d be very sad to lose you as a reader, but I´d absolutely understand your reasoning for it. ❤️

"I ask myself like as reader would I really fall in love with this kind of people who induced the trauma"

You hit the nail right on its head here, actually. This is exactly what I had in mind right from the start when it comes to MC. Reader will NOT be this naive, foolish girl easily brainwashed into doing the sisters´ biddings. I myself don´t find such a storyline appealing either. I love MCs who fight back, who come out on top despite everything they´ve been put through. Reader won´t fall in love with any of them for a long, long, long time. Which also means there won´t be anything physical going on, aside from Tanya´s pesky advances, lol.

Speaking of: No matter how persistent any of the sisters get, there won´t be any non-con stuff. Not in a way that causes MC harm *points to Tanya´s unwanted advances*. This is a line I don´t wanna cross. Any advances towards MC will be written in a way that (hopefully) comes across as both spicy AND hilarious. Something like Tanya getting a book thrown in her face for trying to steal a kiss, lmao. (Which is very likely to happen btw. MC is a lil spitfire.)

So, what I’m really asking is for you to have a bit of faith in me and my writing, and to wait for the next chapter, where the sisters will officially be introduced, before you give up on this story. It will get feral and instinct-driven at times, yes. But there´s more to it and to the sisters.

Next chapter might just give an insight into that already. ;3

To sum it up: This story will be less about falling in love and more about becoming a better/the best version of yourself.

This is what we´re aiming for:

Fingers crossed we gonna make it there! 🤞🤞🤞

Thanks again for your very elaborate and valid ask. ❤️

#tumblr asks #twilight #the twilight saga #The Sisters #feral denali sisters #denali sisters #tanya denali #kate denali #irina denali #you #fem reader #denali sisters x you

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smallcrystals · 9 months ago

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pls pls pls i need some flashspruce headcanons, idc what they're abt i just NEED

i've been on the verge of insanity lately

this is so real and honestly your insanity brought back mine so thank you

i feel like part of the reason i've kinda fell off my eqg soapbox is bc i felt like i've said all i've ever wanted to say abt them, but i don't think i have actually! if you do not mind me repeating myself occasionally:

between flashspruce, flash has the most experience with boys despite having realised his attraction to them later than timber did. this is mainly because flash is surrounded by more boys because high school, the maths is pretty simple

timber, on the other hand, had a more complicated relationship with sexuality because his gender was doing all sorts of funny things. he had an idea that he was pan (of course, he didn't have the words for it yet) but he was never sure if he was romantically interested in boys or just admired them so obsessively he wanted to be one. as timber grew into his teen years he realised it was both lol

timber hides this with his confidence but flash can see right through it because he's dealt with boys like this before when they've hit on him previously (though they're never quite as cute as timber is. pretty privilege i tell ya)

when they're friends, they have this specific dynamic that idk how to explain (the closest i can think of is hyung-dongsaeng in korean culture), but essentially it's this feeling of wanting to dote on your friends that are younger than you (even if it's just by months). that's how flash treats timber in the early stages – flash finds out he's older than timber by a few months and now he cannot think outside of timber = baby

timber loves the mane 7 but if flash is tagging along with their hangouts (which is usually the case, timber only rarely hangs out with them as a group by himself), he's very clingy and has his arm hooked with flash's. flash finds it adorable, especially when timber refuses to let go in public

i see 2 ways in which they can go from friends to lovers; either it's very natural and it doesn't feel like anything's changed, OR they've reached a breaking point where they're just seconds away from devouring each other. sunset says that sometimes flash looks at timber like he will leave bite marks on the guy if he doesn't stop whatever he's doing (existing). both are good i'd say

timber has always filmed little candids of flash when they start being friends, mainly on his phone but whenever they're out by themselves, he brings his fancy camera out. flash doesn't know this, mainly because timber doesn't show him out of embarrassment, but you can really tell the person who filmed the videos loves their muse

flash sends over lyric docs whenever he feels like it and usually these are without any context, literally no "hello" or "how are you", just [text].doc and timber's like ???. but then timber reads them and is like sad™. timber's never admitted to this, and it'll take him a while to do so, but there have been certain lines in flash's lyrics that had him crying. how many chances do you get in life where your muse considers you their muse too?

flash sometimes buys timber books that he's read just so timber can also read them and then freak out the same way he did. most of the time timber's reaction is "why would you make me read this i am now clinically insane" which was exactly flash's goal

i would try to debate who would be the pathetic lover between flashspruce but there is no answer to that bc they are both equally pathetic in their own ways sorry loverboys

flash actively joins timber when he goes to get more wood just so he can see timber in a tanktop and an axe but flash will deny this every step of the way

timber can't say anything though bc man does this as well during the summer months when the flash drive are performing at bars; flash is Not about to wear leather in this weather and timber's gonna enjoy every moment of it

and yeah flash teaches timber the guitar bc what is he if not a lover of music and queer rockstars (he thinks timber could make a really cool queer rockstar if not for the fact he would steal a million of girls' hearts in one second and a smile)

these two make me want to chew a wall. dead serious

(i see your ask about flash, i will get to that soon i promise 🫡)

#flash sentry #timber spruce #flashspruce #equestria girls #timberflash

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louisisalarrie · 1 month ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/louisisalarrie/763384375466475521/the-whole-ethical-non-monogamous-theory-kind-of?source=share

love love LOVE the tags. they're exactly correct.

tbh, reading fanfics and blurring lines between reality and fiction is a common problem in this fandom.. but even leaving that aside, why so much sexualisation. idk if it was always this way, but the recent obsession of focring open/nonmong/poly relationships on them for the sake of adding sexual fantasies on both of them is not just interesting, but it also proves the point of every sony/modest/syco exec ever. instead of glamourising their hetro sex lives where harry and/or louis fuck every girl/fan that they see, larries are just supplanting the exact same fantasy onto their gay relationship. (obviously there is no question of a marriage, how could they, these sex obsessed gay men)

good for these people i guess. might help with examining why is it so difficult for them to accept a committed, monogomous relationship/marriage for two gay men, but it is the no questions norm for countless hetro couples, in entertainment, business, army etc.

but also, anybody who has these ideas about them clearly does not know either of their history, or in Harry's case, his own lyrics ( PSA : go listen to woman, HS, or to be so lonely, Fine Line. if thats not enough, do listen to his cover of girl crush. ENJOY)

In response to this

Strongly agree with you, anon! Harry and louis both write so many songs about long time love with this one person who they are extremely committed to, and it just doesn’t fit the vibe of a potential enm relationship, in my opinion.

I have a few friends who have really successful enm relationships, where they have each other as a primary partner, and then they explore outside of that. Some of these couples have gone on to buy a house or get engaged etc., and have closed their relationship. Others have gotten very serious like the above, but have stayed open. It’s what works for them, and that’s great. I just don’t think it’s the vibe of larry, and I don’t think it’s really productive to speculate. And you’re correct, those blurred lines happen far too often in this fandom.

Also, that’s a very interesting and important point you make there, anon. It definitely encourages the hyper-sexualisation of queer people, both in the public eye and not, and can prove the point that those music industry execs try to make with the heterosexuality they forced upon both louis and particularly harry.

It’s has kinda always been this way to a degree, I guess? But it’s pretty huge now that there’s more folks in the fandom and enm/more diverse relationship types are becoming more socially acceptable and widespread, which just wasn’t really the case back then. There was more fics about it rather than actual belief and discussion that it was the case.

I remember usually the biggest thing we’d argue about was who tops lol, not if they were fucking other people too. You had your Zourries particularly, but again, it wasn’t this proper and serious belief that this is what their relationship was like. People are just boreedddddd tho, and this is what happens when fandoms are bored. We speculate, create theories, and they can sometimes get out of hand.

#anon #answered

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uniiiquehecrt · 8 months ago

Text

Thor Odinson

tagged by : @beheworthy bc i would ALWAYS like 💖💖💖

Give me a fictional character and I will say:

Favorite thing about them: His big dumb hero's heart. His compassion. How much he loves his home, his people, his family, his beloved, his friends — how much he loves.

Least favorite thing about them: //stares pointedly at his inability to form meaningful connections because Thor is Not Allowed to be Not Okay (even when it's obvious and people he loves asks him to share his heart).

Three things I have in common with them:

I am, myself, an elder sibling!! And one whose younger brother was/is someone I am incredibly close to, care a great deal about — that entire drama is very close to home for me.

A passion bubble for friends and family that's, on occasion, close to the surface... but otherwise am chill 👍

and .... bunt out golden child syndrome vibes. Especially that vibe of "do it on your own and put on your leader face at all times, because all eyes are on you, good luck"

Three things I don’t have in common with them:

His ... overly reserved nature. I've been told I can be serious but I don't think I brood the way he does.

One day I will be nearly half as eloquent in my speech outside of writing 🙏

The way that Thor is able to just command a room???? Goals. Total goals. I'm either very good at directing conversations or shaky at it and I wish I had Thor's level of confidence.

Favorite line:

"i would rather be a good man than a great king."

OR ALTERNATIVELY.

"is that why everything's on fire~?"

BROTP: Brodinsons 100% . Then the entire warriors + sif squad dynamics! I'm forever sad we never got more of them all together. Then Heimdall, because Thor deserves positive mentor figures in his life. (and as far as the avengers proper go: Thor/Steve absolutely deserves more recognition they were the og duo as far as Age of Ultron is concerned and y'all , we've all been sleeping.)

OTP: Fosterson ! :D They're adorable star-crossed lovers, and he loves her very much. (and she feels the same for him !)

NOTP: if i see (1) more fan art of thorki in the thor tag i will scream. I guess also bruce/thor and valkyrie/thor exist ...??? I'm not really sure who Thor's exactly shipped with in the MCU besides Jane.

Random Headcanon: One time I considered the thought of little!Thor being exceptionally friendly with his kitchen staff servants, and because he's a strong little guy, he'd pick up giant barrels 3x his size and lug them around just because he wants to be helpful. And he'd do it with or without the prize of getting snuck goodies (though he would definitely prefer the goodies, were it up to him.)

Unpopular Opinion: I'm not sure if this counts as an unpopular opinion exactly, but I do always find it interesting that in the Frozen Vault Scene in Thor (2011), what the cinematography and editors show us that sets Thor off is seeing the dead einherjar...

And I'd actually say that this triggers his anger more than the interruption of his crowning ceremony.

So with that in mind, I'm not actually sure that (most of) his rage regarding the situation was about the coronation at all, in that case. At least, not in comparison to the fear he states (semi-subtextually) about being strong enough to maintain Asgard's borders were. ("They know you are vulnerable.")

He actually seems to only be upset about the coronation AFTER Odin makes it very clear he's decided to change his mind and rescind the crown from him entirely ... which only further fuels the point that Thor isn't ready. (aka: the one thing Thor is keenly aware of, scared of, and is scared the Frost Giants also know.) Which, you know, he's not at that point in time, but I don't see a lot of people talk about the details of that particular inciting incident all that much.

(honestly the ENTIRE text and subtext of the frozen vault scene absolutely FASCINATES ME so maybe I'll do a deep dive on it one day idk)

Song SONGS I associate with them: ... //looks at my 5-minutes-until-13 hr playlist uh...

Glowing, Boreas, and Rounds by The Oh Hellos

Plant Life, The Real World, and Bird with a Broken Wing by Owl City

No Sanctuary by UNSECRET (ft. Sam Tinnesz and Fleurie)

Afterglow and Places by Portrair

Paper and Ink (fosterson) and Everything Changes in Time (brodinsons) by Madds Buckley ... also Hoping on Another Life by Madds Buckley

Favorite picture of them:

//pulls out my entire dark world screenshots folder bc are you really going to make me choose, quirks, are you really going to make me choose

soft beautiful 🥺🥺🥺🥺 precious boy ... give me more of that poncho look tho thanks

Tagging: @darkwee009 for pinkie pie or for kirby ! :D whichever you'd like more, friend !!!

#(SENDS YOU KISSES 😘)#&&. whispers #&&. thor.#&&. | marvel. |#(also no no i am not ashamed of my 13 hour playlist for thor)#(yes you can absolutely ask for more song recs i have too many)#(And probably more on the way)

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katyspersonal · 1 year ago

Text

Some responses

Oh jeez...... Guys, I did not expect my post to resonate with so many people. I was aware that the problem of people feeling excluded and mocked just for less common headcanons had to be big, but I still thought this post would stay between me and all five of my followers, hahah; I am glad that some people feel really heard here! Some are for very different reasons, too?

I ESPECIALLY want to point out this one, because it is exactly the result I've been seeing a lot:

@tsunbath I've heard similar things from (former?) Malenia fans, and also I know at least two friends for whom Maria was ruined as a character because of how toxic her fans were. You are VERY right about the fact that Malenia would've hated to be the symbol of gatekeeping and bullying in the fandoms! I feel like the same would go for Maria; there is no direct confirmation, but I doubt many people can argue that she IS compassionate soul. Like... how do those toxic fans keep making the deep, compassionate, tragic female character into THE symbol of mockery, exclusion and aggression? Beats me.

It just deeply resonates with me how actions of the bad type of fans can create aversion to a character or a ship. I've had this phase with Mariadeline ship tbh. My advice would be - avoid searching content for the character/ship, try to find a tiny pool of people that likes them but are normal and respectful about it, allow yourself to feel identified with "normal fans of the thing" pool rather than dread of identifying with toxic gatekeepers by association... Like, the ship got recovered for me this way, same as Maria's character herself. Just remember that toxic fans and normal fans are not the same entity... It is a very rare case where division is HELPFUL! Hopefully you will be able to recover Malenia for yourself and not think of those l00sers anymore.

@mycopok I know Mal, easily the best person to have ever crossed BB fandom, and nothing will ever replace her </3 I am just happy that her positive influence still lingers even after becoming way less active, like... yeah, fans just should be allowed to explore any idea they want. Maria x Laurence is SUPER interesting concept! In fact, the initial post WAS made because of someone venting that they were afraid to post their Maria x Laurence stuff out of fear of being ostracised!

@underworldsheiress Yeahhhh again, you are not the first one I hear a story like this from. I also heard takes like 'tomboys are the grossest aesthetic, either come out as a trans or get back in line' (not exagerration). It is REALLY unfair how a woman looking masculine should be either her being a butch lesbian, or... well, no longer being a woman in the end. Infighting and forcing pointless norms on each other is a huge problem with LGBT+ community, you'd expect people to gather to support each other but... people will be people I guess :/ Anyways gigachad move of you to wear what you want.

@alma-amentet I don't quite agree with your tastes on body types maybe not gonna lie; However what you pointed out (not so much in the tags, I saw what else you said heh) is a very good example of how fandoms are open spaces and everyone should feel welcomed here. Like, the girls in the fandoms will have absolutely ridiculously specific tastes regarding male characters - not liking shorter height, not liking slim build, prettifying their canonically not-so-attractive face, judging them in sexy look contests, throwing insults towards their appearance quirks at times...

But once someone tries to pull similar things with female characters - all HELL breaks loose. Double standards in the fandoms regarding genders of the characters are absurd. I even once saw someone in BB fandom whining about how someone attempted to discuss which female character was hotter with them...... after we, as a fandom, CONSTANTLY have shit like 'sexyman contest who is sexier Mico or Brador vote now from your phones!!!!'. .... Like idk if you need to hear this as well or not, but everyone should be allowed to say 'muscular women aren't my taste' for the exact same reason why everyone is allowed to say 'muscular men aren't my taste'.

@fantomette22 @rhythmloid Devotees of the Biphobic Order are the bane of every western fandom's existence at this point for real though :/ They will see a female character that wears pants and kicks ass and start shaking over her like Gollum with The One Ring, ignoring all the context, nuance, her personal story, other possibilities, etc... Like I said - feelings of real people who just try to enjoy the fandom are more important than some toxic bunch's creepy obsession with the character they want to crown as their token masculine lesbian based on stereotypes, no less. I say if they really care about masculine lesbians, they should direct their activity towards real world and real people. Because, again - fandomry is not activism.

Anyways thanks everyone for speaking, and sorry if the tagging annoyed you or something fdsjhfh I really appreciate that, and I do hope you all will be able to find your own group in the fandom that'll keep you mentally safe from the toxic fans ruining characters for you. Like a power barrier in the middle of the chaos! I know I did find mine, lol

#dash commentary #long post #(wow look WHO is using a tag like this hahahaha)#fandomry rambles #disco horse #controversy #fantomette girl your tags are as long as my post itself fdhhdfhsd #you had a lot to get off your chest pffffft

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piceuscelus · 1 year ago

Note

t4t ciri/cerys, cerys is so determined to seduce ciri she doesn't realize how easy it's going to be (idk if you wanted, like, trans SPECIFIC prompts vs just prompts with trans characters? i do very much envision this as trans girls having slutty crushes on each other and being endearingly awkward about it bc maybe people haven't responded well to them in the past, or maybe ciri doesn't realize cerys is also trans? but also just a simple cute blushy t4t fuckfest would be great lol)

(i will send another, trashier prompt next)

hi i know this prompt was Forever Ago but i did NOT forget it

it just fuckin Refused To Go

but it went! finally! and now it's here! and it's even below my tumblr post limit! (it admittedly might not be exactly to the prompt. but)

it'll be going up on ao3 like, immediately after this ask posts in case anyone is terribly concerned about content tags but this one is Extremely Tame and soft

trans woman Ciri / nonbinary Cerys

It’s a pity, Ciri thinks, that she doesn’t make it back to the Isles very often. Of course, she knows perfectly well why she doesn’t – she rules both Nilfgaard and Cintra, and thus most of the southern half of the Continent. She’s entirely too busy to be galavanting off to Skellige without a purpose – her court will barely allow her the occasional Witchering break, and they only do that begrudgingly because if they don’t, she tends to start threatening to skewer diplomats. The likelihood of that stuffy lot agreeing to let her vacation to Skellige for no good reason is slim to none.

There is the upside, though, that she never has to bother with a week-long boat trip unless she has a hankering for being sea sick.

When she lands on solid ground, it’s bright and sunny and frigidly cold. She takes a deep breath and just revels in it for a moment, even as she starts to shiver, taking in the familiar smells and sounds.

Of course, as soon as someone notices her standing there in the courtyard, a commotion starts up.

She sighs, but tolerates the sudden influx of guards and their squires rushing over to investigate, and then, once they’ve assured themselves that she’s a known guest, if an unexpected one, the addition of half a dozen maids that arrive to fuss. All of them are bowing so low they may as well be kneeling – it would be faster and require less stumbling, at least – and stammering as they try to address her with an amount and type of formality that’s always been a bit foreign on the Isles.

When she can finally get a word in edgewise, she cuts straight to the chase. “Yes, thank you, where is Queen Cerys?”

One of the guards answers. “Her Majesty is with the jarls, out on the cliffs.”

Ciri raises an eyebrow. “What for?”

“It’s a tradition, Your Imperial Majesty,” another guard says, the capital letters and his unfamiliarity with her title obvious in the stilted, slow way he speaks. “A…rebirth, of sorts, for the new year. All of the jarls, the druids, and the Queen jump into the sea to be cleansed.”

“And several others, for the fun of it,” one of the squires adds, sounding almost bemused, as if he doesn’t quite understand how the dive could be fun.

Ciri isn’t entirely sure fun is the right word, really – she’d probably use thrill instead. She remembers, now, years and years ago, watching Eist do something similar – but it was in the summer, when the cold waters were a fairly refreshing shock, and not the tail end of fall, when falling into the sea could easily become a death sentence if you were stupid or sickly. She’d been allowed to jump then, too, though only into the shallows and not off the cliffside with the rest (for the sake of her grandmother’s blood pressure).

Then again, the line between the concept of fun and thrill is a thin one, and, well – she’d come to the Isles for fun, hadn’t she?

“Which shore are they on?”

– – – – –

When Ciri finally makes it up the cliff where the local nobility are making like ritual-minded lemmings, Cerys is just beginning to strip down to her underthings in preparation for her own jump. It appears she’s the last of the leaders to go, most of the jarls already soaked and shivering on the beach below.

She keeps her more lurid thoughts to herself, watching Cerys shuck her dress, and makes a split second decision to distract her mind from the gutter. “Aye! Time for a late arrival?”

The spears immediately pointed in her direction aren’t a shock, so she mostly ignores them, just stopping where she’s at and waiting.

“Don’t you lot recognize the damn Empress?” Cerys asks, laughing as everyone sort of sheepishly shuffles their weapons back to where they belong. She looks at Ciri to continue, “And don’t you know better than to barge into a group of Islanders unannounced?”

Ciri laughs, too, but doesn’t bother answering – it’s a rhetorical question, and they all know that really, she’s allowed to barge in wherever she’d like. She gestures to the edge of the cliff. “Well, may I join?”

Cerys also gestures to the cliff, but with an over-exaggerated, fake curtsy. “You may!”

Immediately, there are a handful of damp squires appearing at her side, hands held out, so she strips off and hands her clothes over. She only strips down to the same as Cerys, the single layer of underthings – she doesn’t particularly understand the point of wearing anything for this, but she’s also aware that her penchant for nudity is unusual, and is willing to follow the Queen’s lead.

“Together, then?” Cerys asks, when Ciri steps up to her side. They’re both shivering lightly in the icy breeze wafting in from the waves. “Or would you like the honor alone?”

“You’re the Queen of the Skellige Isles, Cerys, it ought to be your honor,” Ciri says, half-teasing, and Cerys’ eyes sparkle.

“And you’re the Witcher Cirilla of Vengerberg, Lioness of Cintra and Empress of Nilfgaard, The Swallow Bearing the Sun in Her Wings,” Cerys retorts, “and you outrank me by a league. So?”

Ciri rolls her eyes as theatrically as possible at the full title, though she’s privately pleased that Cerys used both of Vengerberg and the informal order of it. “Together, then.”

She offers her hand as she takes a step closer to the cliff’s edge, toes already freezing in the sparse, damp grass.

Cerys steps up alongside her and threads their fingers together. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty,” she says, with a little half-curtsy, still a fake one since she’s not wearing a damn dress, and a smirk that belies the formal tone.

Ciri immediately drops Cerys’ hand just to shove her off the cliff and jump right after her.

– – – – –

By the time they’ve swum back to shore, anyone else who wanted to jump has already done it, and it turns into a race back to the castle before fingers and toes go from numb to dead. All the same, they’re laughing as they finally stumble into the marginally-warmer stone halls, the mood easy and light, chatter and laughter echoing off of the high ceilings.

It’s only when they’ve made their way to Cerys’ rooms, already prepped and ready with a large, steaming bath, that Ciri realizes she has absolutely no idea where she’s meant to be staying. Or if she’s even welcome.

Her rank and power do a lot to smooth the way wherever she’d like to go – and her sword and medallion often do what the crown cannot – but she prefers not to use any of them like a cudgel.

Cerys, though, seems to have the same realization a beat after her.

“I can send someone to make up a room,” she says, “but in the meantime, we could share a bath.” There’s a hint of lechery in the quirk of her lips. “Only if you don’t think that would be too…improper, of course.”

Ciri nearly asks where in the world Cerys picked up the idea that she’s ever given a single fuck about proper, but decides that playing coy is much more fun. “It might be,” she says, slowly. “But….”

She rubs her arms and shivers. It’s a little exaggerated, but certainly not entirely an act – she is cold, clothes still wet and skin a little slimy where the seawater lingers.

“It’s cold, and it’ll take too long to make up another bath for you,” Cerys says, and this time her tone is at least half-serious. “You’ll catch your death, Your Imperial Highness – and I cannot, nor do I want to, imagine the horrors your court would bring down upon me if I allowed it to happen. I’m just a lowly Islander queen, after all.”

The snark is back, with the last part, and Ciri can’t help how she snorts.

“Alright, alright.” She prods Cerys into the room and follows along, closing the door behind them. She catches sight of a door across the room shutting with utmost gentleness, likely a servant who had realized that they were not needed and decided to at least be discreet about their eavesdropping. “I’m sure my honor will survive the blow.”

“Mine certainly won’t, but it’s not as if I had much to begin with,” Cerys retorts, and Ciri chokes on another laugh.

“You know what they say about Skelligers,” she says, trailing off with a wink, and Cerys just raises an eyebrow.

“What, that we’re one good blow away from a fight?”

Ciri giggles. “No, that you’re one good blow to anyone’s honor.”

It clearly takes a second to click, Cerys squinting at her for slightly longer than a typical beat, but Ciri sees the moment it finally dawns, the queen’s eyes going wide before she starts cackling.

“That was awful, Cirilla,” she scolds, but she’s grinning wide and there’s no heat to her voice, just poorly-concealed laughter.

Before Ciri can come up with another witty reply – either about her wonderful wordplay, or the use of her full first name – Cerys is huffing and shaking her head, starting to tug at her own layers.

She tosses them directly onto the floor with no care as she wriggles free of them, and Ciri starts to do the same, struggling out of the top dress and progressively wetter layers beneath, until she’s reached the last of them, her underthings still soaked and getting slimier by the second.

She hesitates. As unpleasant as the soggy cotton is, and as thrilled as she usually is to be free of clothes, it’s…. Well. If this were just a bath with a friend, or even just fellow nobility, it wouldn’t be anything to drop her clothes. She’s done it before in springs and bathhouses.

But this isn’t just another sovereign, or even just a friend. This is…well, it’s Cerys, someone that Ciri can admit (at least in her own head, privately, to herself) she’s been carrying a torch about for…as long as they’ve known one another, probably.

(Definitely.)

Cerys is speaking again, though, as she’s peeling out of the layer just above her underthings, struggling with the fabric as its soaked so much water up from the layer below, and Ciri is distracted from her not-quite spiral about her infatuation.

“It’s rude to stare, you know,” Cerys says, and Ciri’s stomach drops to the floor in the split second it takes for her to notice the wry quirk to Cerys’ mouth. Before she can relocate her own words, Cerys continues, though this time it’s quieter, more of a mutter. “...then again, s’pose I have no room to speak on that.”

Ciri doesn’t think she was meant to hear that last bit. She’s aware that she should probably pretend she didn’t.

But she’s burningly curious as to what, exactly, that means, so she quirks a brow when Cerys’ eyes next catch hers. “Oh?”

Harmless, directionless flirting is one thing – something they’ve been doing for the same amount of time Ciri’s carried the torch – but that? That sounded like an admission.

Cerys makes a small, short sound, something of a cross between a squeak and a snort, coloring a little. “If I may be crass, Your Imperial Majesty,” she winks, and Ciri feels herself flushing, because this time the title sounds more genuine, even if it’s in a crude way. “You have a truly spectacular pair of tits.”

Ciri snickers, and before she even thinks it all the way through, she’s quipping, “Thank you, Yennefer helped me pick them out when I got tired of being shaped wrong.”

What she’s said sinks in just a second too late, and she sucks in a breath, biting her cheek against trying to over explain. It’s possible Cerys will misunderstand that – think it has to do with self-esteem, and not anything to do with the confused whispers about wasn’t the heir to Cintra a boy? – but if she opens her mouth again, she could give the truth away.

But Cerys’ mouth drops open to mirror how tightly Ciri’s gritting her teeth, and she stutters, “You were – ” before she’s squeaking and putting a hand over her mouth.

They stand frozen, just staring at one another, for a long moment.

Ciri tries to find her voice, tries to come up with something to say – to brush it off, or to admit the truth, or maybe a secret third option she hasn’t come up with yet. She doesn’t know, but the silence is stretching out longer and longer, and she feels like there are ants crawling along the back of her neck.

Despite all her frantic thoughts, Cerys beats her to breaking it. “Something we almost have in common, then,” she says, and finishes peeling out of her underclothes, revealing her own chest – perfectly flat, nothing but solid muscle and pink-white scars cupping the shape of her pectorals. “Mousesack helped me pick mine when I got tired of the same.”

And the scars are – obvious, really, Cerys is hardly the first person Ciri has met with them, but it takes until she speaks for it to really click, and then – and then she’s laughing, caught somewhere between fierce relief and flustered sheepishness.

“Good to know we have that in common?” she asks, voice shifting down a little, like it hasn’t since she was thirteen and Yennefer started teaching her how to pitch it higher, and she hopes that Cerys understands her meaning – that she means a bit more than just picking out surgi-magical modifications to their chests.

She expects that Cerys will laugh, probably – that she’ll poke fun at Ciri, almost certainly. What she doesn’t expect, in any way, is for Cerys to step into her space, reaching out and cupping one roughened palm around the nape of her neck to yank her even closer.

“I’m pretty sure it’s more than that,” she murmurs, and then her mouth is ghosting over Ciri’s, the distant suggestion of a kiss.

Like hell is she going to turn that down.

They’re still shivering finely from the cold and wet, Ciri’s underthings uncomfortably slimy between them – really, it’s atrocious how seawater just never actually seems to dry, just turns to slime and then…crusts – but none of that really matters, not in the face of the kiss.

The kiss, which is going quickly from chaste and almost innocent to something decidedly more hungry, Cerys’ fingers finding their way into Ciri’s hair, her other hand creeping around her waist and then up to cup her ribs. Ciri, for her part, gets her hands on Cerys’ waist first, and then shifts them to the lower curve of her spine and the place between her shoulderblades as they press closer.

When they finally break apart they’re both panting, and the way Cerys’ fingers are curling around the curve of Ciri’s skull, a rough, callused thumb rasping back and forth just under her ear, has Ciri shivering for reasons entirely unrelated to the damp.

She doesn’t know if Cerys misreads the trembling, or if maybe she understands and simply makes an unrelated decision, but without a word she’s taking a step back, pulling Ciri gently toward the bath. The way she tugs at Ciri’s remaining clothes, though, is significantly less gentle.

It’s a little hard to get naked, considering that they both refuse to step away from another with equal fervor, but between four hands they manage. They also succeed – somehow – in clambering their way into the bath without injury.

Through another kiss, they end up settled on a very convenient seat along the edge of the ridiculously large tub, Ciri on the ledge and Cerys perched in her lap. The position leaves their bottom halves in quite close contact for the first time, and before Ciri can even start to – explain? apologize? she’s not entirely sure – Cerys is humming, a distinctly pleased little sound, and settling her weight more firmly in Ciri’s lap.

“Hello there,” she says, and rolls her hips, pinning Ciri’s half-hard cock properly between them. “I’d ask about pockets, but all things considered, I think I can just assume you’re happy to see me.”

Ciri wants to say something in response to that – even if it’s just to cry hypocrisy about Cerys’ early rebuke of Ciri’s earlier pun – but all that comes out is a thin, reedy little moan.

It makes Cerys laugh, but it’s a breathy sound, cut off when she presses their mouths together again, so Ciri isn’t too terribly offended.

She’s usually more put together, she swears she is, but, well. This torch has been burning for a little less than most of her life, for fucks’ sake.

While they kiss, Cerys starts to move, rocking her hips to grind them together, and both of them end up making broken, breathless little noises into each others’ mouths. The water intensifies the friction, washing away the slick either of them could produce well before it’s of any use, but it also makes the movements easier, smoothing out the jerkiness where both of them are startling to tremble.

Gods above, Ciri should not be this close because of a handful of kisses and a pretty queen in her lap. She’s not sure if it’s because she’s been pining for a ridiculous length of time, or that she’s not had much time for anyone except her own hand lately, or maybe that Cerys really is just that incredible. Whatever it is, she absolutely refuses to embarrass herself so thoroughly, at least this first time.

It takes entirely too much willpower, but she gets her hands on Cerys’ hips, stopping the rocking movement and splashing water over the edges of the tub with the sudden interruption to the water’s motion. Cerys makes a little sound, whiny and petulant, and Ciri is halfway through a choked sort of coo at how cute that was when Cerys’ eyes snap open.

“Sorry, was that – ”

Ciri feels a little bad when pressing her fingers over Cerys’ lips apparently gets some bathwater in her mouth, but she doesn’t need an apology and doesn’t want to entertain it. “I’m fine,” she assures. “I just – have a better idea.”

At that, the scrunched combination of shock and concern on Cerys’ face smooths out, replaced instead by obvious curiosity. Her eyes are bright and her lips are a little swollen from their kisses, and Ciri has to resist the urge to lean forward and nip at them, at least for now. Instead, she starts prodding Cerys off of her lap, and giggles when Cerys’ expression once again shifts in a heartbeat, turning to a small pout even as she follows the silent direction and finds her own feet.

Ciri can’t resist that, not entirely, so she leans forward to kiss the corner of the pout as she also stands from the bench. Cerys turns her head and turns it into a real kiss, because of course she does, and Ciri is weak, so she allows it for a long moment.

“C’mon,” she finally says, when they have to pull apart for air, and before Cerys can complain – or catch her in another kiss – she slips behind her and gently nudges her forward again.

She tries to turn at first, clearly trying to sit, but Ciri gets her arms around her waist and keeps her facing forward. She nuzzles against Cerys’ ear and whispers, “Like this,” before guiding her forward again, until her knees are pressed to the bench.

From there, she drags her hands back down to Cerys’ hips, then her thighs, coaxing her to keep going forward, until she’s kneeling on the ledge. That’s when she seems to get the idea, suddenly tugging out of Ciri’s grip to scoot forward and bend at the waist, bracing her palms against the thick edge of the tub.

“Yeah, perfect,” Ciri murmurs, and leans forward to press a kiss between Cerys’ shoulderblades, fingers finding the stretched smoothness of the scars on her chest. She kisses down Cerys’ spine, hands following the same path but down her front, and when she’s reached where her back starts to curve into ass, Ciri shifts her weight and drops into a low crouch.

She uses her hands, curled around the very tops of Cerys’ thighs, to shift her hips up a little more, just enough to lift her cunt properly above the water.

Cerys shivers and whines, soft and breathless, and Ciri presses a kiss to where the waterline is lapping at the back of her thigh.

“This okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cerys is almost panting. When Ciri looks up – she has to lean a little to the side, to see more than the curve of Cerys’ ass and spine – Cerys is turned to look over her shoulder, eyes gone wide and dark.

She keeps their gazes locked as she slowly trails her fingers up and to the side, along the cut of Cerys’ hipbone, and then in and down, until she’s petting over the soft curls just above her slit. Cerys’ lashes flutter, mouth dropping open for the space of a panting breath before she’s sucking her bottom lip into her mouth to bite at it.

She whines when Ciri doesn’t keep going, squirming a little, hips rolling forward into Ciri’s hand. Ciri chuckles and turns her head to kiss along the curve of her ass and back down to the back of her thigh.

“Can I?” she asks, dragging her fingers further down, almost to Cerys’ clit but not quite there yet. Already, she can feel the heat – the difference between the water and Cerys’ body, the apex of her thighs, much warmer where she’s all swollen.

Cerys whines and bucks her hips, stammering out a, “P-please.”

Ciri lets the movement do what it intended to do, since she asked so nicely, fingers slipping over Cerys’ clit. The friction of it is a little rough with nothing but water between them yet, but Cerys just whines and bucks again, so Ciri keeps going, until Cerys has made a proper mess of herself and the touch is slick and wet.

“Good,” Ciri murmurs, mostly thoughtless, and traces an intentional, firm circle around Cerys’ clit at the same time she mouths along the edge of her outer labia, tongue flickering barely over where she’s wet and fluttering. Those touches earn her another whine, more desperate this time, as Cerys leans harder against her braced arms just so she can raise her hips and press back into the tease of Ciri’s mouth. “Yeah, fuck, so good.”

“C-Ciri, please,” Cerys breathes.

Ciri curses and leans further forward, flattening her tongue over the slick mess built between Cerys’ thighs. The sound Cerys makes in response could be reasonably called a shout, if it weren’t so pitchy and breathless, and Ciri grins but doesn’t bother pulling back. When she teases her tongue at Cerys’ entrance, she gets another almost-shout, and when she presses in, the sound turns into a low, warbling little mewl.

Her cock throbs where it’s bobbing in the water, and she imagines the two of them are probably going to sully it enough that a brand new bath is needed, but that’s the only real thought she spares for it.

“Fuck, fuck, please,” Cerys finally gasps, after Ciri has spent a few minutes pressing her tongue just inside the clutch of her entrance and then pulling back out to trace her folds before doing it again.

She hasn’t even really been meaning to tease – she’s just…taken with the taste of Cerys, with feeling her twitch and flutter. Entirely too taken to be paying much attention to the passage of seconds – or to keep moving her fingers, she realizes. The pleas, though, bring her right back, and she hums into Cerys’ heat before she’s pressing closer, rubbing at Cerys’ clit again as she presses her tongue as deep as she can get it.

Cerys squeals, hips jerking, and Ciri reconsiders her original intention to pull back and say something filthy. Instead, she stays right where she is, shifting in her crouch just to relieve some pressure on her ankles, and tongue-fucks Cerys until the she’s starting to shake and babble.

“Fuck, fuck, you – ah, ah – oh gods, Ciri – ”

Whenever Cerys makes a new noise or starts shaking harder, Ciri follows that as if it were explicit directions, until Cerys is no longer babbling, she’s just making scattered noise, entirely breathless. She’s so hard she could use her cock as a hammer, but all she can really focus on is how sweet Cerys’ cunt is, all of the pretty noises and trembling that she’s working out of her with just her hand and tongue. It’s – heady, and hotter than it has any right to be, and so much more than she’d ever even dared dream about, at least consciously.

Cerys can make jokes-that-aren’t about how far Ciri outranks her all she wants, but in Ciri’s opinion, Cerys is so far out of her league that it balances them right back out. She’s fairly certain Cerys would take offense to that, though, and not at all for her own sake, so Ciri fully plans to keep that as a thought to herself.

She’s almost worried, for a split second, when Cerys’ suddenly goes tripwire-taut, but then her mouth is suddenly flooded with slick and she understands. She groans, but doesn’t let up on her ministrations, working Cerys through the peak of the pleasure and out to quivering on the other side.

“Ciri, Ciri, fuck, oh my gods – ”

She doesn’t stop until Cerys fumbles a hand back and catches at her hair. The feeble tapping at her head is, by itself, ineffectual in making her stop, but she doesn’t want this to tip into the bad kind of overstimulation, so she follows the silent direction and pulls back.

She intends to ask something cheeky about if that was good, but before she can manage more than just the breath in, Cerys is leaning up and turning, the hand still sort of limp against Ciri’s head finding its way into her hair just to tug slightly.

“Please get up here and fuck me,” Cerys pants, tugging at her hair again, and Ciri certainly isn’t going to say no.

It’s not the first time she’s experienced the sensation of her dick overtaking her brain, but she thinks it might be the most intense instance of it.

“Yeah, okay,” she murmurs, and lets go of Cerys just long enough to brace on the side of the tub and the ledge so she can lever herself back to standing. She ignores the tingling in her legs – it’s not bad enough she’ll topple, so it doesn’t matter – and instead bends to press along Cerys’ back, one arm slipping around her waist while the other hand goes to her throat. She nudges at Cerys’ jaw with her fingers until she turns properly and Ciri can kiss her again.

She has to take her hand away to reach down and guide her cock, but Cerys barely seems to notice, at least until Ciri is nudging up against her entrance.

“Yes, yes, fuck,” she gasps, head dropping back down as her knuckles go white around the edge of the tub. “Please.”

“I’ve got you,” Ciri murmurs, lips trailing along the curve of Cerys’ throat in absence of her mouth.

It only takes some more minute shifting, using her other hand to steady Cerys’ hips as she guides herself with the one around her cock, and she’s slipping in. They both make high, shocky little sounds, and Ciri bites at Cerys’ shoulder as her hips jerk.

She wants to go slow, to check in, but Cerys is letting go of the edge of the tub to throw her arm back, fingernails digging into Ciri’s hip when her hand finally finds it, and she doesn’t have much choice with the way she’s yanked, unless she wants to send the both of them tumbling over the edge of the tub and onto the floor.

“Fuck me,” Cerys repeats, and Ciri makes a wordless sound of agreement before she’s doing just that.

#Anonymous #celus writes #dead dove #dead dove do not eat #celus trans characters cw

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