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lavenderspence · 6 months ago

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To Lean On You | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content Warning: post prison!Spencer, mentions of addiction, prison talk (typical for the prison arc), gun use, mentions of death, suggestive themes, idiots in love, angst, so much angst.

Word Count: 8.6K

Summary: You and Spencer wasted years, truths hidden, feelings uncertain, and a fear of the unrequited. It took ten weeks, isolated, silent, and broken, for the realization to strike. There was no life, if you didn’t have each other.

A/N: It’s finally here! Wow, writing this was a wild ride, honestly. Over a month of writing, blood, sweat, and tears poured over it (there were in fact some tears). This is also the first thing I’ve written in 3 years and I'm very happy to finally be out of my slump. It's probably the angstiest thing I've written ever, and at the same time, I feel like it's not the greatest, but deep down, I still love it, haha. Let me know if I've missed any warnings. And, enjoy and any feedback is appreciated. <3

Here are some of the songs I listened to while writing this if you want to get into the mood:

Hearts by Jessie Ware

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived by Taylor Swift

Lost Without You by Freya Ridings

In This Shirt by The Irresponssibles

masterlist

79 days, 3 hours, and 27 minutes - that’s how long it’s been since he got arrested in Mexico.

70 days, 6 hours, and 13 minutes since you saw him being pulled out of the courtroom after he was deemed a flight risk and denied bail. 70 days, 6 hours, and 13 minutes have passed since you last saw him.

65 days, 7 hours, and 11 minutes, since he was transferred to Millburn Correctional Facility, and this whole nightmare, had started.

Per Penelope’s carefully crafted schedule, every team member has made numerous trips to visit Spencer - every member except you. You’d only made one trip out, and that had been 3 days after he’d been transferred.

March 4th, 2017

It’s been 8 days since you saw him led in cuffs out of that courtroom, where Penelope had broken down in Luke’s arms, everyone too shocked to make a sound. He’d looked back, his eyes meeting yours briefly, and it had been as if you’d almost seen your reflection in the mirror, every emotion had run between you both in a matter of seconds.

Shock, you’d almost been sure they would grant bail, and you’d be able to take him home. Almost.

Fear, for his future and his well-being. Fear of the uncertain.

Desperation, the desire to run to him and take him into your arms, finally, and to not let go.

Except you’d held his gaze for as long as you could before you’d looked down and turned your head to save him from seeing you break down in tears. You’d made a hasty escape after that, not sparing any of your teammates a glance, and walked out of the courthouse, stopping by a tree outside. The urge to curl up into a ball and hide, pretending none of this had happened, was strong, and then a hand wrapped around your shoulder. You had turned around, only to see Rossi and one of his sad little smiles, the ones you rarely saw.

“It’s going to be okay,” he’d said, squeezing your shoulder. ”The kid is strong.”

You’d sniffled, trying to hide the tears in your voice. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure I am," you’d whispered in despair.

You were better than you had been 8 days ago, calmer. Although still heartbroken, you were looking forward to seeing him, seeing with your eyes that he was okay. Garcia had seen him, 2 days ago, before you’d been sent out on a case.

“He looks good. I mean, as good as that big genius brain of his can look in prison. His eyes were sad though, really, really sad.” She’d paused as if to assure herself it would be alright, “I’m sure he’s looking forward to seeing you, sweetness.” She’d squeezed your hand, but her statement hadn’t rung true.

Your hands were shaking, you weren’t sure what from. The anticipation you’d felt? The nerves? Or the words you had a hard time coming to terms with.

“I’m sorry, but your name isn’t on Spencer Reid’s approved visitor list,” the guard at the checkpoint had said after rechecking the list.

“There has to be a mistake, I made an appointment,” you insisted, feeling yourself unravel. It wasn’t possible, you knew for a fact you were on that list, Emily had made sure of that.

“Look, lady. There are only 10 names on that list, and yours is not one of them. Now, you need to move, because there are people here waiting to see their loved ones.” you’d hiccuped and turned around, walking to the lockers to unlock your gun, badge, and phone.

“I’m here to see a loved one.” You’d wanted to scream, but you knew it would have been futile. There wasn’t anything you could do at that moment.

You walked to your car, dialing Emily’s number, “This is Prentiss.”

For a second, only your breathing could be heard over the sound of the wind, and then a tiny sniffle. You wiped at your eyes and nose, and then spoke up, barely, “Why am I not on Spencer’s approved visitor list?”

“What do you mean? Every member of this team is on the list. So is his lawyer and Diana, even Derek,” you could hear the surprise in her voice, yet you couldn’t keep calm any longer.

"They refused to let me see him! I made the appointment, Emily, and I came, hoping I’d finally see him hear his voice, and ask him-” Your voice broke mid-sentence, and after taking a deep breath, you continued, “Ask him if he was okay, and I was denied because out of the 10 names on that list, it seems mine’s not one of them.” You finished defeated, barely above a whisper.

All was silent for the moment, save for what you could hear was Penelope’s voice on the other end of the line, quietly asking what was going on, “Let me call Fiona and the warden, and I’ll see what happened. Meanwhile, I need you back here, because we just got a case.” Her voice wasn’t leaving anything up for discussion. Still, you couldn’t go, not until you saw him.

“Emily-” she cut you off.

“It’s not a discussion. I’ll resolve this, but I need you here and your head in the game. Am I clear?” Her voice was stern, but maybe that’s exactly what you needed. Maybe.

“Yeah, clear. I’m on my way back.” You took a deep breath and started the car and the journey back to Quantico, but your mind stayed right there, on the bars that kept you away from the one thing you held dearest.

As it turns out, there was nothing the warden or Fiona could do. Even Emily Prentiss, Unit Chief of the BAU, couldn't “resolve” the situation. Days, weeks, and months passed, and for 70 days you couldn’t see him, isolated out, not even knowing why.

“-to be in the courthouse in one.” You snapped out of your thoughts, only catching the end of the sentence, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. You were tired, and it had little to do with the fact that you had been up all night, going over all the evidence with the team and tracing Lindsey Vaughan’s steps to a T in an attempt to exonerate Spencer and finally bring him home.

You were exhausted, both physically and mentally. You’d been up for more than 24 hours now, but then you hadn’t been sleeping all that well to begin with. Every single night was spent wondering how Spencer was doing, and every time you closed your eyes, you saw him in that cell in Mexico.

His eyes were red, high out of his mind, barely coherent, dirty, and injured - a far cry from the person you were used to seeing every single day - energetic, passionate, and brilliant. After 12 years, if there was one image you wished to erase from your memory, it was this one. Not all the blood you’ve seen spilled, every victim, be it men, women, or even children, all the horrors of the job, but this. Maybe it made you a bad person, but there was nothing worse than seeing the one person you held dearest at their lowest and not being able to do anything to stop it.

Every waking hour that you weren’t on the job was spent wondering how he was doing and if he was okay. If he was healthy, unharmed, and safe, or as safe as an FBI agent could be in prison. But most of all, the one thing that had kept you up at night, slowly destroying your sanity and making you question everything, had been the one question you couldn’t seem to get an answer to.

“Why doesn’t he want to see me?”

You’d asked everyone and had waited with battered breath for an answer, a clarification on the matter, and it never came. As shocked as you had been at the notion that you wouldn’t be seeing Spencer for an indefinite amount of time, your team had been even more shocked. They knew the kind of relationship you and Spencer had, how close you’d become over the years, and how much you relied on each other.

You’d asked every team member, you’d asked yourself, you’d even asked Spencer in a few of the letters you wrote to him, and then there had come a point where you just stopped.

You were torturing yourself more than enough, day after day, and every single night, asking yourself a question you wouldn’t get an answer to. Not as long as he was locked up in that hellhole and you were out here, trying to keep together the pieces of something, that was on the verge of breaking.

You felt a hand taking hold of yours, and for a second, you tensed up. Pulled out of your thoughts, you looked up and were met with chocolate brown eyes, full of worry - Emily’s eyes.

You glanced around the room, only to realize it was empty, save for the two of you. You hadn’t felt when the others had left, that’s how deep in thought you had been.

“Where did you go? I’ve been calling your name for a while now,” she spoke gently, squeezing your hand. If you were honest, that’s the first time she asked you anything about the situation. You’d spent weeks suffering in silence and trying to pretend that you weren’t slowly dying on the inside.

You briefly thought about lying, it wouldn’t be the first lie you’d told since Spencer had been incarcerated, but you didn’t have it in you to hide anymore.

And so, for the first time since Spencer’s hearing, you told the truth.

“Nothing makes sense anymore, Em,” it left you in a whisper, “I’m barely holding it together. I feel like I’m drowning sometimes, and just when I breach the surface, I’m pulled back in. My mind, it’s...I question everything, all the time. My mornings start with thoughts about him, and my nights end with tears over him, over this entire…this nightmare. I keep waiting for my alarm to go off, to wake up and realize that this has been a plot of my imagination, some cruel joke my mind has conjured, designed to show me... "Your eyes welled with tears, prepared to admit something you should have long ago. Emily gave your hand another squeeze, prompting you to continue, and so you did, admitting it for the first time aloud.

“Designed to show me that I can’t live a life that doesn’t have Spencer in it.” You wiped at your eyes, willing your tears at bay. When you dared to look up, you were met with the eyes of the only other person besides Spencer who has been a constant rock in your life for the last 11 years. What you saw in her eyes then wasn’t surprise like you’d thought, but relief. It took you a moment to fully read her, but it was like a switch had gone off when you finally did.

“But you’re not surprised to hear this, are you?” you smiled sadly, a light laugh leaving you.

“I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t have my suspicions, and I’d be an even worse profiler,” she smiled at you, “Plus, there are some feelings that you just can’t hide,” you blinked, and then you blinked again. You hadn’t come right out and said it, and yet she knew, she somehow knew.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” you tried to backtrack, but you knew it was a losing battle. Emily knew you well enough to smell your bullshit from miles.

“That’s exactly how you meant it, and don’t even try to deny it. I see it every damn day. It’s how you leave the room whenever you hear someone talk about visiting Spencer. You don’t want to hear how he’s doing because you wouldn’t believe it, not unless you see him with your own eyes. But you can’t, so you’ve resigned yourself to the torture of not knowing instead of giving yourself the smallest amount of peace by asking. You’ve been suffering in silence for almost three months, too stubborn to say anything, thinking you were doing yourself a favor. And what for? You’re crying yourself to sleep every night and coming to work the next morning, pretending everything is fine when clearly it’s not. You think you’re fooling everyone, but the only person you’re tricking is yourself. And how’s that working out for you?” she had a point, and it’s not like you weren’t aware of that fact. You knew what you were doing wasn’t okay or healthy. You had the most stable support system imaginable to get you through the hardest parts. It was hard, though, especially when the person who was suffering the most was the person who’d taken your heart with him.

“Way to call me out, boss.” you were just about ready to end the conversation, you couldn’t take any more of this. You’d promised each other long ago that you wouldn’t profile each other but you had a feeling that was exactly what Emily was doing right now. Maybe not on purpose, and with every good intention imaginable, but you didn’t want that. You didn’t want one of your best friends to try to understand you based on behavioral analysis right after you’d spilled your soul out to her.

“Just calling it the way I see it, someone has to,” she smiled, but then she shook her head a little before continuing. “What I want to know is why you didn’t say something earlier. You know I would have been there to listen, and so would have the team.” Damn, Emily Prentiss.

You didn’t have to think hard about it, you’ve been ruminating over everything for days. You were trying not to, but whenever your mind wasn’t focused on a case or the many drinking nights spent in Penelope’s purple adobe, that was where your mind would take you.

“Out of fear, I think,” you started, unsure for a second, still nervous to admit it. It wasn’t exactly what she was asking, but it was a start, “I was afraid, and I still am. I’ve been baiting myself into thinking it was just some sort of fondness, a little stronger than that which you feel towards a friend, and far lesser than what it actually is. I thought that if I didn’t say anything, I could go on lying to myself, and nothing would have to change, we wouldn’t have to change. Because words hold meaning, and an admission like that holds weight. What would I have done if it was just me who felt like this? I would have ruined the one thing we’ve both cherished for over a decade.” It felt good to finally say all of this out loud instead of holding it inward. But then again, Emily always knew when you'd had enough.

She’d told you time and time again the same thing Hotch had asked of her when she returned to duty after faking her death: “Let me know when you are having a bad day.”. Honestly, you’d held off long enough, and so had she. It was a whole miracle she hadn’t pressed you about your behavior earlier.

“That’s not what I was asking,” you said, shaking your head with a smile to let her know that you weren’t done speaking.

“Everyone was suffering as a result of what happened in Mexico, what I was feeling wasn’t any different, Emily.” You were flippant about it, you always have been. You preferred isolating yourself and hiding everything instead of seeking a shoulder to bear the weight of what you felt.

“Our sadness came from the fact that our friend was framed. And yours? That’s different.”

“It isn’t,” she scoffed, getting up. Now you really felt like you were about to get scolded like a child.

“Yes, it is. God, you and Spencer are the same. It’s like I’m looking at his doppelganger without the whole… IQ of 187. You share some of the worst qualities a person can have,” you laughed at that, “You are both changeophobes-” you cut her off

“Metathesiophobia, fear of change.” She only raised her hand at you, as if to say, “See, you even sound like him,” which made you laugh even more.

“You close yourselves off after a sad or traumatic experience, silently hoping you’d be able to get through the worst of it on your own. Most of the time, it’s evident that’s not the case. You only ask for help when you’ve reached rock bottom or have no other choice, but you’ve had a choice from the get-go. Your stubbornness even stems from the same anxieties, it’s infuriating,” she seemed to calm down then, in defeat maybe, or she hadn’t been mad, to begin with, she sat down again.

“My point is, it shouldn’t have taken you learning that he might be coming home today to tell me all of this. I’ve known for a long time that there was something far more than platonic friendship on your end. You shouldn’t have tortured yourself since his trial to try to put the puzzle pieces together. You aren’t late, you have all the time in the world to say what you feel and what you want, and rejection shouldn’t be a factor, believe me. You need to make peace with that fear because Spencer is coming home today. And whether you are ready or not, you both need to have a serious conversation.” You appreciated her determination about Spencer being released, but then again, you had more than circumstantial evidence to support the fact that he was innocent. But, as always, Emily was right. He was coming home today, and after months of not seeing each other, there were a lot of things you needed to say.

“I know. Thank you, Emily, for everything,” you whispered, squeezing her tight.

Spencer’s POV

The first breath of fresh air after being on the inside for months felt far more overwhelming than he thought it would be. Being in charge of your being and your responses and emotions felt almost unnatural like the feeling of it didn’t belong to him. The sound of the wind and the traffic, people’s voices, and even the simple act of getting comfortable in the leather seats of the jet overwhelmed any ability to concentrate and think straight.

In itself, it was strange. The prison was loud, the prison commissary at breakfast, lunch, and dinner was a cacophony of prisoners talking, cells being opened, and guards barking orders. The yard was loud too, although, in the middle of nowhere, nature could still be heard - the sounds of trees and the lone birds, if he had to guess a mix of Mourning Dove and Field Sparrow. Their songs were soothing most of the time, a welcome distraction from the usual noises around him.

Without the atmosphere he’d gotten used to and subjected to all of those sounds and people whose presence he found comforting before, he now felt almost out of place. He wanted to feel at peace, he wanted to feel free, and although he technically was, his mind was more trapped than he’d actually been in that 2 by 2 cell in cellblock C.

He kept replaying some of the hardest moments from his time in, every threat, every punch he’d gotten, and the phantom feel of the fists connecting. Luis’ blood on his hands, the smell of bleach incorporated with the drugs, the tip of the sharpened toothbrush embedding into his thigh. All he’d done to survive, harm, and more harm, only to make it out alive.

He barely recognized himself. He’d deliberately ignored looking at himself in the small plastic mirror in his cell, for fear of seeing what he’d had to become. Gone was the Spencer who’d use his brain to get out of situations, whose obliviousness more often than not helped to balance his intellect with the socially acceptable. Gone was the bubbly personality of a kid excited to share a plethora of facts with his friends.

In his place sat a man, tormented by the reality of the hatred felt towards him. The reality of being a pawn in a game whose complexity could have been his downfall. A man whose genius, as much of a blessing, could sometimes be a curse. A man who had felt too much and was made to experience far more loss than his quaint heart was able to take. In the end, he kept losing, be it his father, by no choice of his own. His mentor, at the hands of a killer’s insanity. His friends and loved ones, hoping for a better life or his freedom, made to rot in a place he didn’t deserve to be in.

Some would doubt that he had anything at all left to lose. All in all, how much more could the scrawny twelve-year-old child prodigy, left to survive in a public high school, take?

His mind had been plagued by that question for years. He’d thought about that more than he’d like to admit. After every loss, there’d been a split moment where he’d asked himself what was next. What would be the next thing life would take from him? And every time, he’d had to wonder if, next time, life wouldn’t reach for the one thing he couldn’t allow to be taken from him. The one thing that, were he to lose, he’d never recover. He had hoped, sometimes prayed, that after everything he’d seen, everything he’d lived through, this would be the one thing that’d be spared.

Locked in that cage, he’d tried even harder to ensure that there wouldn’t be another loss in his life - not anymore. Be it good or bad, he’d done everything. For 70 days, he’d had to assure himself he was doing what he thought was right, and what he wasn’t saying, he’d be forgiven for. He’d had to dodge questions and see the disappointment in his friend’s eyes, and when that wasn’t enough of a burden to bring all of his anxieties to the surface, he’d resigned himself to reading the words of the person he was doing all of this for - you.

He’d reread every letter to the point where the edges of the papers were worn out, even though he’d known the contents by heart on the first read. He tortured himself by looking at your handwriting, analyzing the slanting of the words and the pressure of the pen. The little stains on the paper, he didn’t have to be a genius to know, were your tears. It broke his heart, to know he was causing you this much pain. He didn’t need to be there to see it, he felt it through your words.

He often questioned if it was worth it, if he was protecting you, or himself, or maybe even what you were or weren’t.

Even now, the weight of your words sat heavily on his mind, and right by his heart, in the pocket of his jacket, he felt the weight of the 9 letters you wrote.

As he looked over from the little window of the jet, he couldn’t help but wonder if, in his desire to shield you from everything, he hadn’t gone too far. Ultimately, was he going to be forgiven, or be forced to pick up the pieces of the reality broken by his own doing?

“Don’t do that.” JJ’s gentle voice startled him from the overwhelming nature of his thoughts. She’d spent the last 30 minutes since they boarded silently observing him, waiting for him to pick up a conversation. But he’d decided to stay num.

In every twitch of his fingers, in his desire to get comfortable but being unable to, she could see that he was restless. If she had to guess, his mind was much the same.

“Do what?”

She gave him a look, one, had he not known her long enough, he might have been offended by. Clearly, she was offended herself, watching him play the clueless card.

“Spence, I don’t need to profile you to know that your mind’s running a thousand miles a minute, contemplating your decisions, and I don’t think you should. You did what you thought was right, and no one blames you for that, not for Mexico, and not for what you did after,” she spoke evenly, gathering even Penelope and Alvez’s attention from where they sat. He looked over, receiving a smile and a nod from both before focusing on JJ again.

Rationally, he knew she was right about everything. He didn’t need to run himself ragged with everything he could have done differently, or search for the perfect way to explain, or overall, the perfect outcome of his own decisions. He knew there wasn’t one, there was no perfect way to say what he needed to, no perfect words to pick so he could fix this and erase the pain he knew he’d caused.

Perfection wasn’t something you could strive to achieve, because there’s no such thing as perfection. The term was diverse, everyone had a different perspective on what that might look like. If for JJ, perfection was the family that waited for her at home every time she returned from a case, for Spencer, perfection was vastly different.

For him, perfection was the rich aroma of coffee that could cause someone’s insulin to spike because of the amount of sugar in it. The softness of a book page between his fingers, or the familiarity of a book he’d read before but needed to revisit.

Perfection was the sound of your laugh whenever he was the one to prompt the sound. The way your eyes lit up every time you listened to him babble on. Perfection was the time he got to spend with you every day, every hour, and every minute that he could remember with almost scary accuracy.

He could sit and wonder what the perfect way to go about this was, but there simply wasn’t one, there was only the truth. And as painful, hopeful, or even a little dumb as it was, that was the best he could give.

And maybe that’s what his mind should focus on instead, the truth, in its simplest form, at its core the truth he’d hidden for months, and then the truth he’d hidden for years.

He had wondered long enough if he’d made the right choice. He spent plenty of time focusing on the shame he’d felt, prompted by the disappointment he’d seen in his friends’ eyes whenever they brought up your name. How he’d sit, silent, or give an answer so short and angry, it’d add even more shame to the one he already felt.

Beyond his time in prison, where he spent most of his time questioning his decisions, he spent years before that questioning himself as a person. His place on the team, his intelligence, even his failings. His inability to form relationships where he’d be seen as more than Dr. Reid, or the skinny kid, pretty boy, or a genius. A relationship that’d make him feel like simply Spencer, without the added adjectives, that sometimes made him feel like a circus clown.

Only when he’d been locked up, had he started to realize that he’d finally built a relationship with someone with whom he could be himself. The most basic, boring, and peaceful version of himself, and slowly, all had started falling into place.

How content he felt whenever he was around you, the desire to tell you every good or bad news he received. How when you asked about his mother, it warmed his heart, or how worried he felt when you acted stupid in the field. How out of control he’d felt when you’d gone missing last year. Or even, at the time, the unexplained jealousy he’d felt seeing you talk with another man.

Morgan had asked, once, twice, a lot, if maybe he didn’t have a crush, but he’d denied it, every time. And every time he’d question himself, he'd dismiss the idea just as quickly.

Yet, upon being forced away from you, the pieces had started mending into one.

Every realization he’d had was like a new broken piece being glued to the overall mosaic. And every new piece added built everything he felt about you. And it was a lot, and it was overwhelming, and so, so right, it sometimes felt wrong. Because he was inside a prison of his own doing, and you were out there, made to wait for him, for an explanation, for the truth.

And he’d vowed to himself that the moment he was out, he’d put everything on the table, no matter how much he’d fucked up or how much he’d hurt you. He’d sit there, and he’d let it out, and if necessary, he’d even beg for your forgiveness.

Because there wasn’t a moment in this life, he wanted to live through, without you there with him.

Your POV

You pulled the trigger, your eyes focused, and your hands steady. Three consecutive shots were fired, each one hitting its intended target. Three more followed, and then as many as it took to empty the magazine.

You put down the gun and took a deep breath, steadying your heartbeat, trying to rid yourself of the deep-seated anxiety you felt. An odd sense of calm overtook you whenever you found yourself at the shooting range. Maybe it was the everpresent scent of gunpowder or the quiet only disturbed by the firing of a gun. Or even the possibility of escaping your rising thoughts, the desire to run or scream, sometimes both.

There was a sense of solitude there that almost made it easier to breathe. The repetitive motion and the weight of the gun in your hands felt like second nature.

Front sight, trigger press, follow through, just like Hotch had taught you all those years ago. As long as you held that gun, your mind was quiet, and you focused on something other than the worry you felt.

It made sense you found yourself there shortly after Emily had shared the long-awaited good news - Spencer was finally free, and JJ, Penelope, and Luke were on route back with him. For a short moment, you’d felt the weight being lifted from your chest, and then it dropped again, now tripled.

Suddenly, your earlier conversation with Emily had gotten as real as the target before you. Even with the sense of peace, you’d felt after, your thoughts on the matter clear, you still felt a sense of dread at the idea of seeing him.

As if he wasn’t your best friend, the man who’d long ago won your affection and captured your heart, but rather a stranger who held your future in his hands. And he might as well be, because whatever the truth to the questions you wanted answered was, one thing was for sure.

It’d either make or break you both.

You picked up a new magazine, and loaded the gun, aiming at the target before releasing the safety. Before you fired again, you released a breath, and with it, all the feelings within you - fear, uncertainty, yearning, and the sense of madness, which, although mild, was persistent.

You fired once, twice, your aim impeccable, and then, out of nowhere, you missed.

The hair at the back of your neck rose, your heart rate quickened, and the feeling of another’s presence in the room was unmistakable. It took you just a second to put the pieces together, the intrusion felt like anything but that.

Instead, for a brief moment, the person brought with them a familiar feeling of calm. In the next instance, though, reality came crashing like a tidal wave, and you knew you’d run out of time.

Your hands shook as you put down the gun. You could feel him watching you, probably standing next to the door, as if he couldn’t will himself to move closer. The anxiety was palpable in the air, although you couldn’t really say if it was yours or his, most likely, it was a mix of both.

You went to reach for your protection but hesitated. Once you took it off, there’d no longer be an excuse for you to ignore him, you’d finally have to meet the reality he’d so carefully crafted for you.

Even though you felt like you could barely breathe, the desire to finally lay your eyes on him won out.

Without missing another beat, you took off your earplugs and then your eye protection. You could faintly hear the sound of shoes squicking against the floor. He could never stay still when he was nervous.

You picked up on the sound of your own breathing too, the beating of your heart was almost erratic. You were waiting, what for, you weren’t sure.

He was waiting too, for you to turn around, to lay his eyes on you. Like a sadist, waiting to see the pain he’d caused, or a masochist, wishing for his own in turn.

70 days of slowly killing you both.

When you finally dared to turn around, it took you a moment to fully take him in. He looked like the Spencer you knew, yet there was something different about him too. Dressed in his usual suit and tie outfit, he didn’t look comfortable. His posture was rigid, almost defensive. It wasn’t a conscious decision, that much you were sure of.

His hair was longer, pushed back, curling at the ends, and he’d lost some weight. Not much, but enough to make an impression after all this time. He looked pensive, like the weight of the world sat on his shoulders, but maybe it was just the weight of the consequences he had to face.

Your eyes ran over every inch of him multiple times, intentionally avoiding his gaze for as long as possible. Seconds and minutes passed, and you weren’t really sure how much exactly.

Spencer knew, though, of course, he did. If his fear of meeting you eye to eye was as great as yours was, you knew he was counting until the torture of the act itself was over.

89 seconds he’d counted, although now with you there, they felt longer than the days without you did.

When you eventually met his gaze, you felt a part of your heart chip on the inside. What people said about the eyes being a portal to one's soul couldn’t have been more right in that moment. Spencer, a man who excelled at hiding his emotions when he really wanted to, had let them out as clear as day for you to see.

His eyes sparkled with so much sadness and guilt that it threatened to take you apart even before he had the chance to talk. Something softened within you at that moment, but in the next instance, it was like someone else took over.

One moment you wanted to cry for him or with him, and the next you felt like your whole being needed to be let out.

“Is that…is that all you can offer me right now? More of your silence? Don’t you think I’ve had enough of that?” The questions, a few of many to follow, had a bite to them.

His face fell a little, taken aback by your tone. He fidgeted with his fingers, unsure what to say, or where to start. How could he answer your question? He pictured a scenario where his words flew freely, where he gave you an explanation worthy of forgiveness and a confession, so earnest that it ended with you in his arms.

Try as he might, the words didn’t come to him, just a barely audible accusation.

“That’s not fair.”

You scoffed, as if in outrage. A madness, one born out of so much heartbreak, took over, it was blinding. If someone had asked you to explain yourself, you’d say that wasn’t you. You’d never be so forward, almost cruel, to him, but at that moment, being mad sounded so much better than being vulnerable. Like a shield, you weren’t ready to let go of yet.

“How exactly is this not fair, Spencer? It’s the truth!” you yelled, and you felt free, finally letting it all out. “You want to know what isn’t fair, though? The way you isolated me OUT of your life! For three months, I’ve had to stand on the sidelines and beg for scraps, just to know you were okay. Every pitiful look I’d get from the people I consider family felt like another stab to the heart. That’s what’s not fair!” You were screaming so loud. It was a good thing the range was soundproof, otherwise, the whole of the BAU would have been deep in your business by now.

If he looked surprised by the accusation, he didn’t really show it. His posture took a turn, though. The rigidity disappeared, and in turn, it opened, as if the need to comfort you overpowered the uncertainty or the mask he’d had to hold while imprisoned.

You didn’t want his comfort, not right now. Maybe later, when all was said and done, you’d get to have a normal conversation without the frustrations of the past. At that moment, you just wanted everything out of your system. You wanted the questions, the answers, and the truth.

His silence continued as he started closing the distance between you. You wanted to move, to create more distance, but there was nowhere to go. You were squeezed between the range, and him. Whatever else was left than to continue begging for clarity.

“It’s not fair being sent away the first time I came to see you. To learn you didn’t want to see me! Each time it was my turn to visit you, do you want to know where I was? I sat outside that fucking prison, wishing for a glimpse of the person who’s been my rock for 12 years! Holding back tears, thinking you didn’t…you didn’t care like I did. Is this what I really deserve after 12 years by your side?” You almost slipped, you almost told him, and maybe you should have, it might have prompted him to talk or to say something. But no, he stayed silent. Step after step, he limped, his cheek twitched, and his brows furrowed, but like a coward, he remained quiet.

He was meters away from you, three more steps, and he’d completely close the distance, and meet you face to face.

“Say something, Spencer, damn it!” Your throat burned from the strain, and he advanced even more. “Anything,” you finished in a whisper, and all of a sudden, all the fight left you, and your eyes watered and your vision went blurry.

He was just a step away then, and when you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t help but see how they shined.

He reached forward, one hand taking hold of your arm while the other went to hold your waist, but you shook your head. “No, Spencer, please,” you whispered. You didn’t want to find yourself in his arms, because that would be the last of your composure, gone. You’d surrender to the feel of him like you even had a choice not to.

He didn’t stop, not until you were snug into his arms, one of his hands at the back of your neck, holding your head tenderly, but the arm around your waist held onto you as if he was scared you’d slip away from him.

Once in his arms, you finally let go, breaking down into pieces, hoping he’d be able to hold them all from crumbling to the ground.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” He kept repeating, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your pulse point. All the while, you could only stand, your arms at your sides, as if paralyzed.

Being in his arms felt like being home somehow. It felt so right after having been deprived of the feeling for so long. It felt like there was nothing wrong, and nothing could go wrong at that moment.

Even though you hadn't initially wanted his comfort, somewhere deep inside, you craved his tender touch. You craved the feel of his body near and the faint scent that was so uniquely him - a mix of coffee, fall, and old paper, books. You realized then that you craved the sound of his voice too, another part of him you’d been deprived of.

The voice of the always rambling boy that never failed to bring a smile to your face, even when you couldn’t understand him sometimes.

And the more he whispered, his voice broken and shaky, the harder you cried. You’d thought nothing could match the heartbreak of his actions or the anger of his silence, but the reality of being held against him brought the realization that your suffering mirrored his own.

If you’d been dying on the inside for months, he’d been on the other side of the link holding you tethered to each other, dying just as much.

And you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer after that. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, and your arms finally circled his waist underneath his suit jacket, fisting the back of his shirt as if it were your one lifeline.

You felt him exhale when you finally returned his touch, most likely in relief, before he dropped a light kiss on your head.

You cried for the relief of having him back and close. For unspoken truths and time wasted, years of figuring out feelings clear as day. For all the anger, for all of his silence, for all you felt for him.

He cried for all the pain he’d caused you and for all the time he’d wasted being alone instead of being with you. He cried for himself, he cried for you, and he cried, overwhelmed by his feelings for you.

You clung to one another, crying, and minutes were passing and neither of you cared. Not when you had each other.

After a while, when both your tears dried out and your cries quieted, but you still felt the need to hold each other close, you dared to murmur a broken “Why?” hoping he’d hear, hoping he’d understand.

It didn’t take him long to mumble a reply, no longer silent.

“All the words in the world available, and I wish I could explain.” it came out just as quietly, both of you scared to break the little bubble you’d found yourselves in.

You pulled back from him, wanting to look into his eyes, red-rimmed and still sparkling when you felt yourself begging again.

“Then try, please, because I’d rather know, and not understand, than not know at all.” And it was the truth. He could speak in riddles if he wanted, but you needed to know why he’d made that choice.

You looked at him expectantly before he pushed a piece of hair back, and his hand once again settled at the back of your head, gently cupping it.

“I wanted you safe from a world you didn’t belong in,” he admitted on an exhale, like a lifelong secret he’d gotten tired of holding onto.

You looked at him in wonder, and it was on the tip of your tongue to tell him he didn’t belong in that world either, but just as you opened your mouth to speak, he shook his head.

“I was ashamed when I had you removed from the visitor’s list. I didn’t want you to see me like that, like a criminal,” he started, pulling you into his arms, not wanting to admit it to you eye to eye, out of fear of being right. Of course, he was wrong, but that didn’t stop him from wondering.

“The first time JJ visited me, they leered at her like they were being fed fresh meat, taking her in, committing her to memory. A cage full of animals. I knew then that I didn’t want that for you, and any guilt I had at keeping you away disappeared that day. It hurt me, knowing I was failing you and whatever trust you had in me,” he whispered, wishing to keep the reality of his thoughts and his feelings in a little bubble as if you only existed in it.

“I’m not the same person I was before, I couldn’t be him, even if it meant losing a part of myself in the process. I couldn’t really be a decent human being without bearing the consequences. Everything I saw, everything I did, and everything that was done to me, I don’t think I’d ever fully be the person I was before. And that too, I’m thankful I spared you from seeing.” It would explain his rigidity, a defense mechanism he’d had to get used to.

And while everything he’d said thus far was true the biggest truth, he’d had yet to say. He had yet to really explain why he’d done what he’d done in the first place. He was stalling, still afraid, but the longer he held you, the longer he felt your heart beating in time with his, the more sure he became.

To hell with the consequences, to hell with whatever happened after, he was right here in the now, alive, breathing, his arms around you, finally at peace.

He pulled back, took your face into his hands, and finally whispered.

“Most of all, though, I knew I loved you enough to risk us if it meant keeping you safe.” It left him in a rush, a confession waiting to be let out for months. A feeling he’d had for years, and a moment where he could finally be open about it.

“What…?” you licked your lips, shocked that you might not have heard him correctly. ”What does us mean?” This part of the conversation felt like you were daydreaming about it, it just didn’t feel real.

“It means whatever you want it to be. Whatever you want us to be.” All of a sudden, it was that simple.

“So, you love me?” You had a hard time taking it all in, yet your heart fluttered in pure happiness. “And you…you want us?”

"Yes.” Even before you were done speaking, he was already answering. He was desperate to finally admit he was absolutely smitten by you.

Months of figuring out your feelings, years of hiding them, a conversation to finally prompt a confession out of you, and all this time it was reciprocated. You could have cried, happiness like no other coursing through you, pure bliss.

You wanted back into his arms, you wanted to kiss him so badly that your blood was burning from the need to feel him like you'd never been able to before. And yet, you knew there was something else you needed to do before you could finally do it.

“Spence, you don’t push away the people you love, no matter the cost. You rely on their love to help aid you when you’re at your lowest.” You gave his sides a light squeeze before you looked back into his eyes, only to see them hopeful and uncertain at the same time.

He looked hopeful, for the possibility that you might actually love him back, but uncertain because it felt like you might be pushing him away this time.

“I can’t go through this again. Having to watch you wither away, in prison, at home, or by your own thoughts, I won’t be able to handle being pushed away again,” whispers, cries, pleas, memories full of heartbreak intertwined with present confessions full of joy.

His eyes watered then, his lips trembling. Any sign of hope was gone, and in its’ place stood the realization of a man who’d maybe gone a little too far. He’d pushed you away, and now, it was your time to be the one sticking and twisting the knife deep, breaking his heart in the process.

If someone were to ask him at that moment what his biggest regret was, he’d say this. This was his biggest regret, his own choices.

A tear escaped him, and you reached up, wiping it away gently before you spoke again.

“If..if this is going to go anywhere, you need to rely on me. You need to believe that I can handle anything and everything, just as long as you are by my side. All those years of being pushed away - your addiction, Maeve and Gideon’s deaths, your mom’s diagnosis, Cat Adams - you weren’t alone then, you aren’t alone now, and you won’t be alone in the future. You’ll always have me by your side, you’ll always have my support. Most of all, you’ll have my love, but when things get hard, I need you to lean on me, and trust that I can help you because together we can pull through everything, anything is possible as long as we are together.” You finished on an exhale, full-on crying now. You could barely see him, but from the little you could, you saw tears streaming down his face, and a smile that grew wide, happy.

Those words, he knew them word for word. For 13 days, he’d repeat them, no longer needing to see them written down, he had them engraved in his brain. Your letters he could recite, but your final one he’d remember as long as he lived.

“I promise to lean on you and trust that you’d help me because together we can pull through everything, anything is possible as long as we are together,” he whispered back, his eyes searching yours for just a moment before he pulled you in, and finally, his lips met yours.

He kissed you, tentative at first, testing the waters. He wanted to take his time, commit your lips to memory, gentle, and plump, exactly how he’d imagined they’d feel. The more he kissed you, the more he couldn’t stop. Passion, urgency, desire - his kisses turned desperate like he wanted to swallow you whole and never let you go.

He bit your lip gently, asking for access, before his tongue intertwined with yours and he pulled you flush against him, closing any gap left between you. Chest, hips, there wasn’t an inch where you weren’t touching.

It felt so familiar, even though you hadn’t kissed before. So right, like no one's kisses had felt before. As if your whole lives, kissing each other was the missing piece in a complicated puzzle, waiting to be put together. Coming together as one, it felt magnetic, a feeling of euphoria, pure ecstasy, no one else mattered, no other feeling mattered at that moment, other than your hands on each other and your lips locked together.

Time was passing by, and you didn’t care. Years of missed opportunities, hidden feelings, and long-awaited realizations all led to this moment. Starved for each other, a kiss full of fervor and even the taste of tears was present. Unimaginable, but very real.

When you finally pulled apart, he wiped your tears, and you wiped his in turn, before he gathered you back in the comfort of his arms, laying a kiss on the side of your head.

And between the four walls around you, nestled in each other’s arms, the place where no one could touch you, in a shared breath you both whispered.

“I love you.”

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pokechbi · 1 year ago

Text

🎀I Can Treat You Better Than He Ever Can, Love🎀

Simon Ghost Riley x fem Reader!

NSFW, MDNI !!!

Fem anatomy used

WC: 4.9K

As always, asks are open and every single interaction is so so greatly appreciated! I love u all 🫶

Enjoy loves 💗💗 !!!

You sat in the mess hall, picking at your lunch, your appetite gone for the day. You stared ahead at Konig, sat two tables in front of you. You also stared at the brunette woman sitting across from him, giggling like a fucking schoolgirl at his every word. You watched, your head searing with green, slimy jealousy as she reached over and grazed her fingers over his. Bitch. You muttered quietly, putting the lid on the lunch you had brought from home.

"Someone's got their knickers in a twist." The Brit came from behind you, his steps quieted as always. He sat across from you, blocking your view of the Austrian beast you had your heart set on. You groaned, slumping over in your seat. "What's on your mind, mate" He asks. You look up at him. His gaze scanned your face, landing on your eyes, looking between them. You shifted in nervousness, fiddling with the sleeve of your turtleneck. He was boring a hole into your skin, his eyes dark and strong. You wouldn't hesitate to obey him like a dog when he stared at you like that. But he wasn't the one you had your heart set on. At least not anymore.

Months ago, you and Simon found yourselves alone in a conference room, and you were hell bent on releasing the sexual tension that had managed to build between you both for weeks. He stood towering over you, eyes sliding down your body and undressing you with his eyes. You approached him hastily, running your hands up and down his face, slowly slipping your fingers under the hem of his balaclava. He softly grabbed your hands, lowering your arms back to your sides. You looked at him confused. "I...can't, love." He spoke, his voice close to a whisper. Your heart dropped into your stomach as he said this, your breathing growing strained. You felt the tightening of your throat, tears threatening to well. "I'm your Lieutenant. This won't end well for either of us. You know that." He said gently, hands still wrapped around yours. You parted your lips to speak, your bottom lip quivering with your sadness, turned to pure anger. "So...you led me on?" You asked him. His eyes go wide, instantly shaking his head. " What? No, I didn't lead you on. I never promised anything between us." He scoffed, pointing a gloved finger in your face. "Did you think that our little moments meant that I'd risk my entire career for you?" You looked at him stunned, and began backing away slowly, nodding your head in disbelief. He runs his hands over his face, sighing frustratedly. "Listen...I'm sorry. I didn't mea-" "Save it, Simon. Forget this ever happened. That we ever happened." You spat, throwing the door open and slipping yourself through it. He watched painfully as you left, the sting of rejection stabbing your core.

The memory jabbed at you as he looked at you, the lustful look in his eyes that night slithering its way into your head. You push the thought away. You and Simon agreed to forget it happened, to stay as friends. You didn’t want to raise suspicion to any of the higher-ups, so you carried on like normal. It took weeks, months to feel like you were over him. You dreaded seeing him everyday, avoiding him on missions and around base like the plague. But somehow, he managed to work his way back into your life as if nothing happened. You decided it couldn’t be that bad for you, if anything it’d help you get over him and see him as a friend and nothing more. At least, you did. "Nothing's wrong, Simon. I'm fine." You reply, looking up to meet his eyes again. "Doesn't look like nothin' ". He chuckles. “The way you’re starin’ at Jessie like you wanna curb stomp the poor lass” He says smugly. Jessie. You scoff, your cheeks burning red with irritation. “Does everyone on this base know her fucking name?” You stand to your feet, grabbing your bag and not bothering to trash the container with your untouched lunch. You make your way out of the entrance to the mess hall, your blood boiling with jealousy. What did she have that you didn’t? You roll your eyes, walking hastily to the elevator. You needed to get outside, breathe some air. You felt suffocated in that building, like every single person there was secretly out to get you, knowing your deepest and darkest secrets and hell bent on using them against you. You’d been having shit luck on the field, distracted by the two damning men who plagued your mind. You wanted Konig. Needed him. And while you were friendly while he was stationed on the base, he showed no signs of wanting anything more. And that broke you, making you want to rip the hair right out of your head. First Simon, now him. You couldn’t catch a break.

As you approached the elevator, you felt a strong hand grab your wrist, holding you in place. Without turning around, you could already tell who it was. The smell of his musky, warm cologne wafted up your nose, triggering the memories you had tried so hard to purge from your head. You turn slowly to meet his gaze, the rough pads of his gloves chafing the skin of your wrists. You twist your arm, trying to wring it out of his grip. “Simon, let me go. I’m not in the fucking mood for this.” You spat, slapping his hand. He very easily overpowered you, and he knew that. He stood there, not budging as his death grip grew stronger. “You’re hurting me, Simon.” You cry, feeling the suppressed emotions and frustrations starting to simmer as they threaten to wreak havoc on you. He lessens his grip, but he steps closer to you, now hovering over your face. You turn your face away from him, staring at the floor as you feel his breath heat your skin. “You don’t need to be jealous of her, you know. Konig is nothing special.” He says smugly, disregarding the pure anger written on your features. "He's a door opener. A useless fuckin' wannabe sniper. Why are you so broken up over 'im?" You pause at his words. Did he really need to kick you while you were down?

You glare at him, trying to free yourself from his grasp once more. He finally lets you go, and you waste no time in pressing the elevator button. You don’t respond to him, hoping that if you ignored him he might take a hint and leave you alone. As you listen to the elevator making its way to your floor, you feel Simon step closer and closer behind you. “Don’t ignore me. You can talk to me.” He says, his voice a low grumble. You stand your ground, pursing your lips and scoffing at him. He sighs behind you. The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. You step inside, pressing the button to the ground floor. You raise your head to meet his gaze, and he wastes no time in stepping into the elevator with you before you can close the door on him. “Come on. Stop being so stubborn. Why won’t you-”

“Simon, the last time I confided in you about my feelings, you rejected me and led me to believe you cared when you couldn’t have given less of a shit about them. And now you want to act like you give a fuck about what I feel? Please, spare me.” You say sarcastically, shaking your head at him. He doesn’t break his gaze, but instead keeps his eyes on you, running them over your face. For a split second, his eyes land on your lips. You feel your heart flutter as you notice it, being that you wouldn’t have caught it if you blinked. You curse him in your head, knowing this would lead nowhere good. He was leading you on again, giving you false hope. He was conjuring old feelings that you were sure were buried deep in you. Sure, the memories manage to seep through once in a while, but ultimately - he had you whipped- and he knew that. The way you wanted to drop to your knees and let him degrade you, wishing he’d slam you up against this wall and take you right in this elevator…all because he looked at your lips. You needed to get a hold of your feelings, and fast. You were sure you would lose control if he tried anything, and it made you feel less than. You lacked self control when it came to your feelings, leading you to be hurt many times. You lacked self control especially when it came to Simon.

“Love…I..” He steps closer to you, and by God’s will, the elevator doors slid open. You rushed out, grabbing your car keys from your bag and speed walked out of the door and to your car. Your eyes stung against the winter air, flushing your cheeks. You fumbled with the keys, pressing the button to unlock the door before you reached it. The sun had begun to set, rays of sunlight beaming over your face. As you reached your car, you heard him approach behind you. You groaned, turning to face him. You glared at him, his eyes pleading with you to listen to what he had to say. Your head was spinning, not knowing what you wanted more: For him to leave you alone, or take you right there, fucking you so deep you could feel him in your guts. You stood there, watching him in silence. The wind picked up, pushing your hair into your face. He stepped forward, his face hovering dangerously close to yours. Your breath hitched in your throat, not knowing how to react. Your mind constantly fought between pushing him off, telling him to fuck off and to quit these games of his, or just submitting to his every touch and letting the thoughts of resisting die in your head. “Please, just listen to me.” He says, running his hands up your arms. You gently shy away from his touch, shaking your head. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say, Simon. You’ve said enough already.” You say, a slight tremor in your voice from adrenaline. You didn’t know why he was doing this, complicating the feelings for him that you had worked so hard to store away. Why was he doing this? Now, of all times, when you found yourself remotely over him and wanted someone else.

“You’re right. I’ve said enough. You’re completely right about that.” He reaches up, brushing your hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. The rough material of his gloves scrape your cheek. You wanted them off, his bare fingers touching you instead. “You know what they say, darling. Actions speak louder than words.” He continues, slipping his fingers to the back of your head, a handful of hair entangling his hand. With his free hand, he slowly reaches up to his face, swiftly lifting the balaclava over his lips. You had never seen his face before, and it seemed like your world stopped spinning at the slight glimpse of his strong jaw. A discolored scar ran up his upper lip, ending right on top of his lip line. He parted his lips, his breath now hot on your face. Your breathing trembled as he dipped his head forward, clashing his mouth with yours. You whine into the kiss, your knees weakening under you. His grip tightens on your hair, his body pushing you into the back door of your car. You fumble with the handle, not breaking the kiss as his hand lands on your ass, roughly squeezing it through your pants. You get the car door open, and Simon groans into the kiss as he pushes you inside. You break the kiss, sliding into the backseat as he lies you down on the seat. He hovers over your face as you lie back on the seat, reaching behind him and slamming the car door. He wraps his hand around your throat, beckoning you to sit up with him. He kisses you again, aggressively shoving his tongue in your mouth, groaning into you. The taste of him on your lips was enough to drive you absolutely feral, wanting more of his taste on your lips. He pulls you onto his lap, squeezing your hips as you straddle him. You moan softly as you grind your hips against his, the fabric barrier frustrating you and causing a wetness to pool between your thighs. You wanted nothing more in that moment than to diminish the very thing that held him back from being inside you already. You reached down, palming at his growing erection. He groaned into your mouth, throwing his head back at your touch. “I need you, love…don’t know how fucking long I’ve needed you.” He breathes, his grip on your hips growing stronger.

“Please…Simon. J-just fuck me already.” You moan softly, raising your hand to claw at the collar of his shirt. He wastes no time in ripping it off like it was on fire, throwing it onto the car floor. He sits up, leaning you backwards as he undoes his belt. His jeans were uncomfortably tight around his crotch at this point in time, his shaft painfully pressed against his balls. He groans as he slides his jeans down to his thighs, rolling you off him to get them off the rest of the way. You watched lustfully as you started ripping your own clothes off, desperately yearning for his touch on your bare skin. You’re left in nothing but your panties, the cold draft rising goosebumps on your skin. After sliding his jeans down to his ankles, he leans over to grab you by the hips, dragging you onto his lap once more. He snaked an arm around your waist, keeping you close to him. You’re unable to move, your nipples grazing his toned chest. The sensitivity of your hardened nipples causes a jolt to run through you, letting out a soft whine at the skin to skin contact. He notices your sensitivity, resulting in a low chuckle to rumble out of his lips. He smirks, staring at you mischievously. You let out a yelp, trailing off into a pleasured moan as he pinched your right nipple, dipping his head forward and taking the other in his mouth. His tongue swirls around the hardened bud, causing pleasure to shoot straight into your core, ecstasy flowing through your blood. “You sound so fuckin’ sexy, love. Keep going.”

You continue to moan as you arch your back against him, taking more and more of your breast into his mouth. He leaves hickies on the soft, silky skin of your breasts, leaning back to look at his handiwork. He suddenly stops, beckoning for you to turn your back to him. You do as you're told, turning around on his lap with your back facing his chest. He slowly runs his hands down your thighs, opening your legs and placing a foot on each of his knees so you’re wide open for him. He grabs and palms at your thighs, resting a hand right over your pussy, slick with arousal. He chuckles as he feels how slick you are, leaning down to kiss your neck, whispering against your skin. “Look how goddamn wet you are for me. You’re just a little whore, yeah?” He whispers, slapping your pussy with an open palm, causing you to yelp. “You know I’d treat you better than he could, don’t you, love.” He asks, saying it more as a statement than a question. You nod, throwing your head back onto his chest as he slips a finger into your panties. He drags a finger from your hole to your clit, sliding it up and down painfully slow. “Oi, use your words, princess.” He demands, stopping his finger, making you whine out of desperation. “Y-yes! You can treat me better than he can, Simon.”

“Good girl.” He continues sliding his finger between your pussy lips, the lewd sounds of your slick permeating the air. He lifts you by your hips, as if you weighed nothing to him. You feel him positioning the tip of his cock over your panties, swollen and leaking with precum. You buck your hips in need, your head rolling around on his chest. He chuckles deviously, moving your panties to the side as he exposes your clit to the chilled air. “Tell me you want it, love. Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you until your screamin’ my name so loud the fuckin’ windows shatter.” His gruff voice sends a chill down your spine, a predatorial lust laced in his tone. You part your lips to speak, your breath hitching in your throat as he slides his tip between your slick folds, causing a groan to escape his lips. “I want it so bad, Simon. I want you so bad. P-please.” You beg, barely able to get your words out as he uses your clit to smear his precum all over your cunt, both of you now wet with each other’s juices. You moan softly, holding back the scream of desperation you so badly wanted to let out. “Good fuckin’ girl. You want my cock in you that bad, aye?” He says, a grunt following as he lines the tip with your hole. “Y-yes! P-please, Simon.” You beg, bucking your hips forward. You feel how big he is already, throbbing and thick, hard like you’ve never felt before. You widen your legs, trying to lower yourself onto him. He holds you up by your hips, stopping you from taking what you need. You whine, your clit throbbing and swollen with need. “Needy fuckin’ girl.” He chuckles, pushing into you further. You both groan, your delicate moans soft and silky compared to his guttural, manly grunts. He lowers you onto him slowly, bucking his hips ever so slightly. He seemed to be holding back, and that frustrated you. You tried to push against his hands once more, trying to suck in just one more measly little inch. He exhaled sharply, suddenly wrapping a strong hand around your throat.

“Quit bein’ so fuckin’ greedy, love. You’re like a bitch in heat for Christ's sake.” He says, the grip on your throat growing as you struggle to breathe. You take the lack of his other hand to stop you for granted, smugly pushing yourself down on him further. You smile triumphantly, feeling the electricity flow through your core. He groans in your ear, tightening his grip on your throat. Your air flow restricts, and you couldn’t have cared less. He was almost inside of you completely, and you could feel resistance as you struggled to take him. Catching his breath from the unexpected death grip your pussy had on him, he speaks. “I was tryin’ to take it slow for you, impatient fuckin’ slut.” He says, raising a hand to your face, landing an open palmed slap to your soft skin. The pain stung you so deliciously, making you giggle with delirium. Simon scoffs behind you, astonished at how absolutely filthy you were. “If that’s how ya wanna play it, love. Fine with me.” He says, and before you got the chance to hear an explanation, he slams into you all in one go, the throbbing tip of his cock pushing past the spongy wall that hadn’t been touched in quite a while. He begins to thrust his hips upward, plowing into you as if there were no tomorrow. You yelled out, your sounds a mixture of pained yells and lustful moans. His hand still had quite of a grip on your throat, causing your face to grow a deep shade of red as he fucked you. Noticing your lack of airflow, he lets go of your neck.

He struggles to get his cock in you all the way, causing him to slow his pace. He groans in your ear as you grip his cock like a vice.

“Relax. Let me in, baby.” He brings his fingers up to his mouth, spitting into them. He wraps an arm around your front, resting his lubed fingers on your clit. As he draws wet circles on your clit, your walls flutter and spasm around his dick, allowing him further entry. He lets out a low chuckle, continuing to rub your clit, the lewd sounds of him spreading his saliva between your pussy lips bouncing off the windows. “Gotta show the girl some love for her to open up to me, right, lass?” He says, his accent thick on his tongue. You nod, letting out a string of slurred “mhmms” as he continues loving on your clit. He starts to pump into you again, grunting and moaning in your ear. He curses, throwing his head back as he fucks you. Your heels dig into his knees, hoisting yourself up as you throw yourself down on him in sync with his thrusts. This seems to incapacitate him, ripping the thoughts right from his head. Your tits jiggle with every thrust, your hair hanging down and brushing against his face. He adores the view of you, trying your hardest not to cum as he pounds the spot that drives you nuts without missing a beat. The steady rhythm made you feel like you haven’t felt ever before, coming close to your end quicker than you ever had. His dick was working brutal magic on your walls, his fingers lovingly caress and flick at your clit. The mixture of feelings soon became too much for you to handle. You clenched against him, the sounds of your inner slick coating his cock turning you on like never before.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart?” He leans down, whispering into your neck. You nod furiously, eyes tearing up at the absolute love he was playing on your clit with. As if it were his own cock, feeling your pleasure ripple through you and into his blood as he touched you. In this moment, you knew. He had you. There wasn’t any escaping him after this, and there was no escaping your feelings any longer. The unsettling yet comforting feeling made your core tighten, conjuring an orgasm so strong, you’d prove to him with direct evidence that you were his, and no one else's.

“ ‘m gonna cum, Simon. ‘m gonna cum” You slur, pressing the back of your head into his chest. “Cum for me, baby. I want you to fuckin’ cum all over my cock. You beautiful fuckin’ whore.” His words send you over the edge, a warmth rushing straight to your clit, spraying his hand with your squirt as you yell out, your eyes stinging with tears as you had never felt anything so. fucking. intimate. Your walls pulsate around him, your thighs instinctively trying to close themselves at the overstimulation. Your eyes roll into the back of your head. Simon wraps his hands around your thighs, prying them open with a strength you didn’t know he had. Simon seemed to enjoy your orgasm as much as you did, and it seemed that he got off more on watching you absolutely crumble at his touch. You knew it was something predatorial, but you chose to enjoy it anyway. As your walls fluttered and tightened around him, his grip on your thighs moved to his fingertips, leaving dark red marks in its wake. You knew he was close, and you didn’t want to admit that the thought of him filling you up with his seed, made you go feral. You continued bouncing yourself on him, his face now buried in your hair as he cursed and moaned. He was no longer bucking his hips at a rhythmic pace, now sloppily pumping into you as your cunt did its work on him. “Fuck, baby. I’m so fuckin’ close.” He gripped your thighs tighter, causing you to wince at the pain. It felt as if he was trying to rip your flesh open with his fingers, the feeling of your hot, squelching walls, fresh from an orgasm driving him to insanity. You smile as he continues moaning nasty nothings in your ear.

“Gonna breed you, make you mine… forever.”

“You’re mine now, do you understand that?”

“You won’t ever think of fuckin’ another man when I’m done with you. Do. You. Understand.”

“Do you think Konig could fuck you like this? Didn’t think so, baby. Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine - fuuuuckin’ hell”

You keep a steady rhythm, rolling your hips onto his cock as the heels of your feet dig into his knees. He lets out a long guttural groan, breathing heavily against your hair. You feel his cock throb inside of you, his seed filling you to the brim of leaking. You feel some of him slip out of you, dribbling down your hole and onto your asscheek. He thrusts into you slowly, fucking his seed back into you. You belonged to him now, and God help any man who so much as looked at you the wrong way. You both stay connected inside of you for a minute, breathing into the air. The windows of the car were now fogged up, the chill making its way across your skin as you curled up in his lap.

“Mine. All fuckin’ mine”.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Simon’s lips curl into a grin as he slides your panties down your legs, balling them up in his hand as he tucks them into his pocket. You scoffed at him as you dressed yourself, still feeling the warmth of him drip down your walls.

“What would the team say if they found out you’re a panty stealer?” You ask, teasing him as you slip your shirt on.

“Well, depends on who it is. Soap’ll definitely beg for a whiff.” He says, your jaw dropping open. You smack his chest playfully. He grabs your hand, pulling you into a kiss. He kisses you gently, a great difference from how he’d been kissing you earlier.

“Feelin’ better, love?” He says, breath hot on your lips.

“Very much so.” You chuckle. You look at his lips, wondering what else was behind that mask of his. You look back and forth between his eyes, slowly reaching your hand forward, pulling the hem of his balaclava. “Let me see you, Simon” You say gently. He wraps his hands around your wrist, not stopping you, just holding you. You see a glint of nervousness in his eyes as you pull it from his head. You smile as your eyes scan over his face. His blonde hair sat messily atop his head, his features all coming together to make the most strikingly beautiful man you’d ever seen. His breathing grows heavier as he sees your reaction, seemingly releasing a breath he’d been holding. He smirks at you, slowly bringing your hand to his face. You caress his stubbled cheek, running your fingertips along his strong nose, crooked from multiple breaks. You softly run your fingers over his lips and jawline, your eyes lidded with lust. The way he looked back at you, confirmed everything you’d been trying to prevent yourself from believing all these months. “If you felt the same way about me, why did you…?” You start, tears stinging your eyes.

“Things were complicated, love. Or not, I don’t know. I was a coward. You made me a coward.” He admits, a somber tone to his voice that you never expected to hear from him. He was usually a humorous, flat-toned man who expressed himself with silence, or witticisms, and there was no in between. The moment felt fragile, as if it would shatter if you spoke too loudly. You smile at him with shaky lips, a tear falling down your cheek. “All this time I thought…I don’t know, I thought you hated me too much to want to fix it.” He continues, swiping the tear from your face with his thumb. You felt as if you spoke you would break, so you kissed him. He breathes heavily into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your body. “I’m not good at this, love. But, you make me feel ways I thought were never possible for someone like me. And I promise, with every fiber of my being…I’ll never let this go. I’ll never let you go. No matter how hard you try and run from me.” He says, breaking into a smile at the last words. You smile at him, slipping your fingers through his blonde locks. His eyes gaze into your soul, his words settling into your heart, engraving themselves in stone.

“I hated seeing you so broken up over that prick…I guess it fueled me to be better. To be better for you.” He says, resting his head in your hands.

“I only wanted him as a rebound, Simon.” You say, a sly smirk on your face. He scoffs at you, raising his head to meet yours. His smile was still so new to you, enough to make you crumble at his feet without shame. “You’re a damn minx, you know that?” He says, a soft chuckle escaping from his lips. “You don’t have to worry about that useless bloke anymore.” He continues, pressing a warm kiss to your cheek. “I can treat you better than he ever can, love”.

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flemingsfreckles · 3 months ago

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Drunk Dial Pt 2

PART ONE IS HERE

Warning: alcohol consumption, language, suggestive comments, mentions of sex

WC: 2.9k

A/N: I feel like yall are going to be mad at me for this part but angst and conflict are fun🤷‍♀️ as always if yall want a part 3 just let me know.

It had been a few weeks since your rather embarrassing evening. You had pretty much remained “no contact” with Jessie. Or at least that’s what you both claimed you were doing.

You had dropped off the clothes she had let you borrow two days after you had spent the night. You had washed them, put them into a bag and dropped the bag at her doorstep, sending her a text to let her know. What you had also done was put a bag of her favorite coffee beans along with a card into the same bag with her shirt and shorts.

You didn’t mean anything with the extra gift, it was simply a thank you, just as the card stated. Nothing more, no secret intention behind it, just a thank you for taking care of you. It was also an apology for even putting her in that position. This led to a text from Jessie thanking you for the beans and mentioning that there was no need for the extra gift. Which then led the two of you to discuss your current favorite coffee shops. You had a couple other innocent chats since but then after a few days your communication died off and you were back to silence.

It was a few weeks later when you found yourself crawling into bed after what was a nice first date with another girl you had been talking to, Haley. Thankfully, she didn’t ditch you as the other girl had and the two of you actually got dinner and drinks together. The two of you had gotten along well over text but once in person with the girl, she had been bland. It felt like the vibe the two of you shared over text had been swept away, the girl was plenty nice and sure she was pretty but in the back of your mind you kept telling yourself one thing. She wasn’t Jessie. You found yourself comparing her to Jessie, which you knew wasn’t fair to her. You had walked her home and politely declined when she offered to bring you upstairs. You weren’t one to spend the night right away, it had never been something you did, jumping into bed with a girl right away.

You adjusted the pillows before turning on the tv and flipping through channels until you landed on what you knew was happening but you had hoped to avoid. The NWSL championship game. Being played just a few minutes away from you, it had been impossible to avoid knowing it was happening. It was also impossible to avoid that the thorns were the talk of the town.

You couldn’t help but laugh, as you turned the game on being met immediately with your ex girlfriend’s face on the screen as she took a corner kick. You weren’t together anymore but suddenly the nerves of watching her play were back. You hardly watched her games anymore, you’d check the score lines usually but watching felt weird so you hardly did it. The game was nearing the final minutes, Portland leading 2-1. You watched until the final whistle blew and you watched Jessie take off at full speed toward her teammates in celebration and then you watched the screen turn black as you turned it off.

You regretted turning it on, you shouldn’t have watched. Now you sat debating if you should text her a quick congratulations. Your debate was short lived as you decided against it and instead rolled over trying to put yourself to bed.

You toss and turn for what feels like hours, unable to sleep. Letting out a sigh you roll over and grab your phone, it wouldn’t help to doom scroll, but it would cure your boredom. As if she knew you were bored and awake, you receive a text a few minutes after picking up your phone.

Jessie: Hey :)

You: Hi Jessie, congratulations by the way.

Jessie: How did you know

Jessie: Thank you :)

Jessie: What are

Jessie: u doing?

You shake your head at her texts, obvious signs she had been drinking and enjoying herself at the post game celebrations. Jessie wasn’t usually a texter anyway, when she did it usually had punctuation, she spelled everything out, she didn’t send smiley faces or emojis, she was pretty cut and dry over text. When she was drinking, she wasn’t.

You: Nothing, had a date tonight, trying to get to sleep.

It’s a minute later before you see Jessie’s face, her beautiful face and her hand holding the flower out to you on your screen as she calls you. You watch it ring for a moment before answering.

“Hello?” You say, immediately cringing at the loud sound on the other end. Voices, loud music, you imagined Jessie was out with her team celebrating.

“Hi!” Jessie shouts back at you. You can hear her giggle to herself. “Hi” she says again. “Did you watch me play?”

“Having a good time celebrating Jess?”

“Yes, but do you know what would make it better?” She pauses for half a second, not even letting you answer before she tells you. “If you were here.”

You let the line go silent for a moment, unsure of what exactly you should say to her. “Go hang out with your teammates Jess, go celebrate.”

“Please?” You hear her voice, less of a yell now, asking you politely.

“Please what?” You ask.

“Come celebrate, come meet me, I want you here.” She says in a voice you know you can’t resist.

When you walk in the bar you hear the same noises you heard in the background of your call with Jessie. You were already cursing yourself from pulling your body from the nice warm bed and instead out to the streets of Portland. You could’ve been in your sweats but instead were now in jeans and a Portland shirt, one you had bought before even knowing Jessie.

Loud music, loud conversation filled the humid air. You look around your eyes catching Sinclair across the room. She squints a look of confusion across her face before she excuses herself from her conversation and makes her way toward you.

“Hey.” Her voice resembles the confused look on her face.

“Hey Sinc.”

“I don’t mean to be rude but what are you doing here?”

“Jessie called me, begged me to come. I know she’s probably drunk, I just want to make sure she is okay. I’m not going to stay long.” You wave your hands as you explain, you knew you’d probably get questioned by a couple of people on why you were there but you didn’t care too much.

Sinc lets out a long sigh, bringing a hand to her forehead pinching her temple. “She’s been talking about you all night, I just didn’t think she’d call. I would’ve taken her phone.”

“I didn’t expect a call either.” You stick your hands in your pockets, gently rocking on to the heels of your feet before shifting to your toes. You were starting to feel uncomfortable. “I should just go. Sorry.” You turn to head back the way you had come in when you hear her voice. The voice calling, shouting your name over and over.

Turning back around you are suddenly face to face with the freckles you still adore. You watch as her eyes grow wide and she breaks into a dorky smile.

“You came?” Jessie’s face appears shocked, as if she wasn’t expecting you to be there after begging you on the phone to come meet her.

“I mean you called, you asked me to.” You shrug. You couldn’t tell her that the reason you came was because you were still truly, madly, and deeply in love with her. So you lied to her. “Plus you came to me the other week so, I owe you.” You tried to play it off as if you weren’t equally excited to have heard her beg you to come.

“Let’s dance!” She says before grabbing your hand and pulling you away from Sinc.

“Let me know if you need help.” She shouts after you as Jessie pulls you harder into the crowd of people.

You kept your distance on the dance floor at first. Only holding onto Jessie’s hand as she danced around you. Watching her make you smile seeing her so carefree. As she continued to dance she pulled you closer, her hand trailing to touch your forearm, then your shoulders. Before you knew it Jessie hand her arms looped around your neck as she swayed around, her front brushing up against yours every few moves.

“How was your date?” Jessie asks, a small smirk on her face.

“Really? You want to ask that?” You raised an eyebrow at her.

“Was she as good as me?” You watch as Jessie tried to hold back a smirk, as if she already knows that the date was bad. You roll your eyes at her overconfidence.

“Jessie.”

“I mean clearly not, you didn’t spend the night.”

“Shut up. You know I don’t do that on the first date anyway.” You gently push her shoulder, playfully before catching yourself realizing you were leaning towards being flirty, that wasn’t the reason you came here.

Jessie takes your playful contact as an invitation, pulling gently on your neck, her fingers threading slightly through your baby hairs, encouraging you to lean down to her. “How about you take me home instead?” She whispers into your ear. One of her hands finds your cheek, softly tilling your head away from her so her lips can graze your ear as she speaks.

“Jessie.” You say to her, almost as a warning.

“Please. I’m still so in love with you, and I know you still feel the same way about me, so take me home.” You pull back, your eyes wide as you listen to her confession. You can feel your heart starting to race, her words ring in your head as you stare back at her. She still loved you. The love of your life still loves you. She was still in love with you, despite saying the opposite the other day. She still loved you and somehow she knew you felt the same. You never told her you still loved her, at least that you know of.

“How did you, how do you know that?” You’re not even sure where to start with the information she just shared with you.

“You told me silly, when I picked you up at Marathon. You sat in my bathroom and told me how I ruined love for you, you told me how you don’t know how anyone will ever make you feel how I did. I feel the same, I’ve been wanting to tell you but I’ve been scared.” She has a slight slur to her speech which brings you back to reality. This wasn’t just Jessie professing her love for you, this was drunk Jessie, who wouldn’t remember this tomorrow, blabbering her feelings at you in her vulnerable state.

“Hey Jess, wait.” You push her back slightly, still trying to process the fact that you might have confessed your feelings to her weeks ago and she had just been withholding telling you.

“Take me home.” You watch as she sticks out her bottom lip, tilting her head so that she’s looking up at you, doing her best to get you to give in.

You know you shouldn’t. She was drunk, not in a clear mind. You shouldn’t give into her. You should ask one of her teammates to make sure she got home safe and you should leave. That’s what you should do. That’s the right thing to do, the angel on your shoulder.

But that’s not what you wanted to do. You wanted to take her home. You wanted to be the one to make sure she was safe, you wanted to care for her, to wash her face, make sure she brushed her teeth, you wanted to tuck her into bed, kiss her forehead and let her fall asleep. When she woke up and had sobered up, and could talk to you with a sober and clear head, you wanted to climb into bed next to her, you wanted to put your lips on hers. You wanted to make love to her, show her how much you had missed her, recommit every inch of her skin to memory. You wanted her back. You wanted her to be yours again.

“Jessie, you’re drunk.”

“But I want you, take me home baby, make me yours again.” Her voice is deep and yet soft in your ear, it causes you to shiver slightly. Hearing her call you baby again had your mind drifting back to when she’d call you that everyday, when you woke up, when you called her when she was away, when you’d pick her up to go to dinner, when she was moaning it in pleasure, back when you were her baby. Jessie lets her hand trail around the side of your neck before she begins to slide it down your chest.

“Jessie, no.” You grab her wrist, pulling it off of your body. You quickly look around, catching the eyes of Sinc. You quickly send her a pointed look, darting your eyes to Jessie. You’re grateful when she seems to get the hint and begins walking your way with Mackenzie.

“Hey Jess, let’s go over here, I’ve gotta show you something.” Sinc says, placing an arm across Jessie’s chest pulling her back from you. She doesn’t put up much of a fight in her happy go lucky state, following her fellow Canadian.

“You alright?” Mackenzie says once Jessie is out of earshot. “I didn’t know you two were back together.”

“Oh, we’re not. I don’t know what we are, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come. She drunk called me, it’s a long story. It’s just, she helped me out a few weeks ago so I wanted to do the same but, uh, she was trying to get me to take her home, and not just to sleep.” You watch as Mackenzie raises her eyebrows understanding your implication.

“Not that I would do anything, she’s drunk, but I don’t want her regretting even just letting me bring her home to sleep. She’s not in the right mind to make that choice. I don’t want to put her in that situation. I don’t want her getting the wrong idea. All I want is her to feel comfortable when she wakes up. I just want her safe.” You ramble on to the goalkeeper who nods kindly at you

“We’ll take her home with us, we have a guest room, my girlfriend hasn’t been drinking.“ Mackenzie says, gesturing to the woman standing next to her. “We’ll make sure she’s safe.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Arnold smiles at you. “You’re just looking out for her. There’s no need to be sorry for that.”

“I just didn’t realize how drunk she was when she called me or how many more drinks she had since I’ve been here. I just don’t feel comfortable putting her in a weird spot with me. I think she was saying and telling me stuff she wouldn’t if she was sober. I don’t want her to be embarrassed or regret anything.”

“Don’t feel guilty about what you did, you made the right choice. Let me get your number, I’ll let you know she’s home safely.” You and Mackenzie quickly exchange phone numbers and you thank her one last time before heading for the door.

As you slumped into your car seat you let your forehead come to rest on the top of your steering wheel. You didn’t know how to feel, split between sadness, anger, and a tiny bit of longing.

You were mad Jessie didn’t tell you what you had confessed in her bathroom weeks ago. Had she done so maybe the two of you would have talked, maybe you would’ve worked things out, you wouldn’t be playing this silly game of missing her and trying to move on simultaneously, and that made you sad. You were mad at her for calling and begging you to come, mad at her for trying to get you to take her to bed. Feeling of anger was also at yourself and your own stupid decisions. You could have ignored her texts, ignored her pleas over the phone to come see her, you could have, but you didn’t.

You looked over into your passenger seat, your phone and wallet sprawled there. You grabbed your phone unlocking it and opening your messages. You saw Jessie’s name, looking at it for a second too long before you clicked just below hers.

You: Hey, I know it’s late, any chance that invite still stands?

You: You’re still on my mind.

Maybe that was a lie, maybe she wasn’t on your mind, but Jessie certainly was and you wanted something else to distract you.

Haley: Of course, give me a call when you’re outside.

You punched in the address that you had dropped her off at just a few hours ago before throwing your car in drive and heading her way.

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #jessie fleming blurb #canwnt x reader

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yamujiburo · 10 months ago

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1. You are INCREDIBLY patient when replying to asks. You always politely link them to your FAQ or to your master post. For the bad faith asks, you always are kind in your responses. I wanted to give you kudos. Even though you are well within your right to ignore/skip these asks, you still put thought into your responses. I'm giving you some kind words because I just KNOW it would be draining getting the same messages all the time.

2. I'm a fat person, and I've got a whole host of body issues, but your Jessie really helps with my self confidence. She still sees herself as sexy, and Delia still sees her as sexy (probably sexier lol). I also loved your logic behind the character design: sometimes healing and stability bring weight gain. That in itself has made me feel a bit better about myself. Not trying to treat you as a therapist. I just want you to know the impact your Jessie can have. It's so rare that we see fat characters in a positive light! I do hate how many people have a problem with your design though. :(

3. Aroace James also makes me feel seen. I am coming to terms with the fact I may be aroace myself, and it's been hard. I've always loved James, and I'm grateful you've spun him into a character I can relate to. I'm always all over your blog looking for more James crumbs lol.

I appreciate it! I like to assume the best in people and always answer in good faith. While I wasn’t super vocal at the time, I’ve had my fair share of bad takes on the internet and I feel like those who responded to me with patience and understanding had a longer lasting impression on me and led me to change my mind later. Gave me much to think about. Not everyone’s entitled to that patience but I think there is merit to handling things with kindness sometimes. You never know who’s on the other side of the screen and what they’re saying could just be out of genuine ignorance. Sometimes someone putting it in a gentle way is just the push you need. A lot of the time, I think people just want to be heard and are also willing to listen if they don’t feel immediately shut down.

I’m glad you think so! I love seeing fat characters and I love seeing fat characters who love themselves. Fat is beautiful, fat is cute, fat is hot

Hahaha I should do more with him! Aroace James makes a lot of sense to me given his background. I try not to write ABOUT the experiences of identities outside of my own but I think it’s important to at least show it!

#ask yam

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fallingstarsau · 4 months ago

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ooo uhh hypoparents of jessie? in my head, her father is a transmasc sol, but let me know your thoughts!

Sol, running away from Skyclan, came upon Toffee’s house. She offered to let him stay a while, and let him get his bearings. After all, she was barely let outside, and incredibly bored, with neglectful housefolk. Sol charmed her with his stories, and one thing led to another, resulting in Jessie.

Sol wanted to take Jessie with him on his travels, and rejected Toffee’s name for her, only calling Jessie ‘Ignis’. Toffee refused, and was heartbroken when Sol took Jessie away one night, never to return. Jessie didn’t want to go, however, and as soon as possible, slipped away, hoping to find her way back home. She became hopelessly lost, however, and gave up on her goal, instead wandering aimlessly across the land.

After getting injured crossing the mountains(why did she think that was a good idea?) She stumbles into Thunderclan, a few days before the badger attack, and manages to help save Cinderpelt.

(That’s all I have written for her now, but I imagine in her wandering she meets a few cats that teach her how to fight. I also imagine that Jessie and Squirrelflight get together- if anyone wants to ask me for their hypokits, please do!)

#hypokits #hypokits are open #hypoparents #not fallingstarsau #wc #warrior cats fanart #sol warrior cats #warriors au #warrior cats designs #my art #jessie wc #wc jessie

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the-great-ladyg · 9 months ago

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So, I watched the James Somerton second apology video so you don't have to, this are my highlights, feel free to add more if I missed something important:

He monetized the video to donate to HBG's team and Wikipedia, apparently, he said also he has reached some of the people who he plagiarized but still, if he did he would have explicitly said "I'm donating to them"

Did he really said "well, I'm a white cis gay man, I don't have the same experiences as others in the community" as an excuse on plagiarizing others' works? And the "I thought I might be able to won over some people" sounds like some white savior shit

He still throws Nick under the bus, it really shows that James doesn't regret any other times he did that and it sounds like he hired Nick as a shield for criticism and not to have a more diverse work team

He apologizes to Jessie Gender and many others, but doesn't explicitly addresses why he might have offended them on first place (except for the police incident), yeah, he says he was reactionary, but he has been on many occassions. I'm not expecting a full detailed explanation, but at least he could have said "for the Nebula drama" or something like that

James says that at one point, due to covid economic consequences, he and Nick became poor and that led him to plagiarize more since they had to upload more videos, and look, I suck at organizing my time, I tend to do everything with little time before the date, and I wrote most of my thesis on the last minute with one or two days of investigating and I still didn't plagiarize, I could cite all of my sources the correct way, if my early 20s procrastinating ass could wrote a 70 page thesis on my own without plagiarizing, he could write a script with a second person without stealing but he prefered to do it anyway

Also the alegedly head injury, I'm not going to say that's a lie, but knowing how this guy uses any card on his favor, this might be something he pulled from his ass to justify himself

I don't know why but some of this Telos drama explanatiom sounds again like he didn't even know how to do all of this, and I get what is to start a project having little to no idea on how to start or continue, but he tried to do so much with so little without asking for any help when he clearly needed some help other than Nick, and also sounds like another excuse to justify plagiarizing

"Misinformation made its way into our past videos", no, my friend, it doesn't make its way when you investigate or check a site other than the first one you see, James loves to say he likes to investigate but still says things like this. "It wasn't malicious", (seriously, the audacity of this bitch), oh yeah, there's nothing malicious coming from the mysogynist biphobic and transphobic dude who misgenders trans people and erases a woman's bisexuality, specially when this lady told you she wasn't a straight woman as you said and this was a known fact for a few years

The ADHD thing feels like some ableist shit, like "don't blame me, I have ADHD uwu", James has offended many groups and communities through his youtube career and in his apology video he still finds the way to insult another group that suffers from many harmful stereotypes

As I said on a post addressing his first apology video, James can't create a space for everyone if he's transphobic, mysogynist, acephobe and racist, and he pretends he's convinced he was creating an "inclusive space"

Just as many people have said before, he didn't address anything of the things he's been accused of except plagiarism, he only says "I'm sorry to everyone who I have offended", no dude, you don't address mysogyny, racism or transphobia this way, James is a piece of shit and a coward.

And this idiot has put on public display some of his videos, specially the ones that show his racism (yeah, the Killing Stalking and Painter of the Night videos), I'm not clicking on them but I'm pretty sure he didn't cut his racist mysogynist rants, because they might not be plagiarized (if James is to be trusted) but they show the worst parts of him when he's trying to be original, and putting this shit videos on public shows he regrets nothing on being a piece of shit.

#james somerton #james somerton can kiss my enby ass #seriously just log off the internet #no one wants you back specially after this

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 2 months ago

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really enjoyed the excerpt of your writing you shared! i love how strong of a character and personality jessie has, both in terms of attitude and speaking style, and how much of the world you introduced naturally just by having her be such a hot mess. there's obviously a lot of superhero-supervillain politics going on rn but the writing isnt slowed down by any long explanation because its slid in so naturally with jessie's more pressing issues, like her hangover and bombed relationships, but you can also see how those issues led to this situation. whole thing has me really curious to know more!

jesus christ hi sorry I took a full month to respond to this I saw that you were saying something kind and sincere and just. blacked out and got too scared to finish reading it. I have problems. but thank you. I've been having a LOT of fun working on this project again since posting the first chapter and I'm so nervous to ever let it see the light of day, but this is genuinely very encouraging :)

I'm also so glad you enjoy Jessie she's for real my awful trainwreck and I love her to pieces and I'm so so proud of her as like. an entity that crawled out of my brain. I have so many plans for her.

the thing in question is here if this makes anyone else curious I'll try not to be a huge freak if anybody else reads it. no pressure though.

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braveclementine · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter 31

Warnings: 18+readersonly, Sergeant kink, Captain kink, uniform sex, pet names, roleplay, mxm smut

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

"What are you looking for?" You asked, coming upon Bucky who was in the attic, looking through cardboard boxes that hadn't been unpacked yet. Either because they contained holiday decorations or because they were filled with people's personal knick-knacks that didn't quite fit anywhere in the house.

"Something to make Steve happy." Bucky grunted, shifting Fury's box up on top of Clint's, pulling out his own box.

"Why is he so upset?" You questioned. Steve had been rather upset after the news. It had been a week after the Supreme Court decision and something was clearly eating at your Captain.

Bucky sighed, "He's torn between doing what's right for the country and then realizing that there's nothing he can actually do. This isn't a physical fight where he picks up his shield, knocks a few bad guys heads off, and we call it a win. This is a political decision, written in law form. He can't do anything for that. Not to mention, he's also more worried about protecting you and his family than others. Family will always come first for him, so it's kind've tearing him in two."

"The thing is. . ." You said hesitantly, chewing on your bottom lip. "It's male to female partner. And most people only have one or two soulmates. Most couples have more children than that anyways. So what's the big deal about the law?"

Bucky shrugged, "When you put it like that, it doesn't seem really like anything at all. I think what's really eating at Stevie is the fact that it's corrupting people's freedom to decide how many kids they want."

"Yes, that does make sense. But America, China, North Korea, Italy, Germany, and a handful of countries in Africa are the only ones that have passed the laws so far." You said. "If it really upsets people that much, there are still quite a few countries to choose from. France for one said they were never going to make that a law. And so did Japan."

"Here we go." Bucky said, yanking out a uniform. It was pressed, crisp, and clean, but definitely aged.

"Is that your old sergeant uniform?" You asked, all thoughts of political ideas going out your head at the thought of Bucky in his uniform. You'd see pictures of course, but that was when his hair was cropped and short.

"Yes it is doll. Sam's gettin' his military outfit too. Gonna surprise Stevie. He loves when we wear the uniforms."

"So. . . roleplay?" You asked, curiously.

"Nah, we don't really do that." Bucky said, shoving the box back where it belonged, gathering up the rough fabric and cap in his arm. You walked alongside him as you exited the attic. "It's just uniform sex really."

He glanced over at you and you just smiled. "Hopefully that will cheer Stevie up then."

Bucky suddenly got a grin on his face, "Come with me doll."

You followed, wondering what Bucky was up to. You two passed Sam in the hallway. "Here, can you take this back to the room for me? I'm getting something for Y/N over here."

Sam grinned, taking the uniform from Bucky. Sam was already in his uniform, which was a black sort of camo print. It was complete with his black boots, gloves, and shoulder pards. He looked rather dashing and if Bucky was going to look anything like that you might just have an orgasm from looking at them.

Sam walked back down the hall and you hurried after Bucky again, "Where exactly are we going?"

"Right here." Bucky said, opening up one of the doors, which led into another room that you honestly just hadn't explored yet.

"What is this room?" You asked, slightly skeptical and apprehensive, looking at all the costumes that were around you.

"Wanda has been teaching Elizabeth had to create costumes and clothing from just fabric, needle, and thread." Bucky explained. Apparently he had been here often or something because he seemed to know exactly where he was going, "Most of this is Wandas, but Pietro and Hogun like roleplay and Elizabeth likes to create so there we go."

You blushed a little. You'd never done roleplay with any of them. You felt that you would die of embarrassment if you tried to act while having sex. Leave that the actors and actresses on TV.

"Anyways I actually asked her to make this for you." Bucky said, finally pulling out what looked like a very old, vintage poster type nurse outfit.

"That's for me?" You asked, raising your eyebrows.

"I figured eventually you might join us." Bucky said, grinning, though you could see the worry in his eyes. "Thought this would be cute."

"Can I try it on first before I show up to your room, in case it looks bad, ya know?" You asked, blushing. You were actually kind've excited.

The thought of looking cute and also from a time period that Steve loved best was enticing. You really did want to make him feel better and you were also kind've excited to see how the outfit looked on you.

[Minus stockings and shoes. I know it's not the sexiest costume, but it was supposed to be more 1940s. It's sexier to Steve because of the time period, not if the skirt is so high your ass shows].

"I really like it Bucky." You said, grinning as you stepped over to show him. His eyes darkened slightly.

"I'm gonna have to thank Elizabeth again." His voice was husky, wrapping an arm around you. "You look adorable doll."

You grinned before fixing the hat on your head, "I kind've feel like it's going to fall off."

"Don't worry, it won't." Bucky grinned. "Now, c'mon. We want to get back to the room before Steve, don't we?"

You and Bucky quickly hurried out of the room- though Bucky left a note for Elizabeth to let her know we stole the outfit. Apparently she got very moody when stuff was rearranged or taken without her notice. She had a slight OCD problem and pet peeves about her stuff.

Needless to say, the two of you got back to the room before Steve. Sam was waiting, standing by the window, leaning out. "He's not back yet."

"Where did he go?" You asked, making Sam turn around. He started to grin as he looked at you.

"He's walking Ginny. He loves that dog." Sam said.

"Maybe we'll get another puppy." You said thoughtfully. "I think Fury feels outnumbered with the kittens."

Bucky grinned before he undressed. You and Sam talked while he got dressed in the Sergeant uniform. You were a bit nervous, knowing he was going to look absolutely delicious.

You swallowed hard when you came face to face with Bucky. He looked so absolutely delicious. The only difference between him now and before was the long, shoulder length hair. But he still managed to get that cap perched jauntily on his head.

"You broke her Buckaroo." Sam grinned before kissing Bucky's cheek. "She's stunned."

"It's only revenge." Bucky said, shrugging his shoulders as he grinned, "She broke me for a moment when she put on that nurse uniform."

You finally said, "You look dashing Buck."

"Is that right?" He grinned, one hand placed firmly on the wall behind you, the other hand wrapping around your waist. "Well you look so innocent in that lil' nurse outfit. I can't wait to rip it off of you and ruin you."

"Elizabeth will kill you." Sam stated simply behind him while you felt yourself getting wet at his words.

"That's true." Bucky said seriously, "And I don't fancy facing her ice storms."

He winked at you before kissing you.

"Captain Rogers is home Mr. Wilson." F.R.I.D.A.Y. said suddenly.

"She's not going to record this, right?" You hissed at Bucky, suddenly realizing just how many times with just how many people in just how many rooms you'd had sex. F.R.I.D.A.Y could've recorded any number of them- video and audio.

You were going to have to speak to Tony.

But after you had amazing sex with your soldier boys.

You laid down in the middle of the bed, Bucky sitting behind you so that your head lay in his lap. Sam was laying on his side next to you, lightly running his fingers up and down your arm.

You could feel a coil of anticipation in your stomach. What if he didn't like it? What if he only wanted it to be a thing between the three of them? What if he wasn't in the mood for any of you and Sam and Bucky got hurt feelings?

"So anxious doll." Bucky mumbled into your hair, "What's wrong?"

"Just worried I could be intruding." you mumbled, feeling slightly self-conscious now. "Or that he won't be in the mood and will hurt your guys' feelings too."

Bucky chuckled, "Believe me doll, even if he's not in the mood at this moment, he will be once he steps through that door. He can't resist the uniforms."

You could hear heavy footsteps now walking down the somewhat quiet hallway. You heard his open the door and Steve stepped through it.

He looked absolutely worn out and frustrated. He stopped completely upon seeing the three of you in his bed.

The exhausted expression on his face lightened, a smirk curving at his lips. He slammed the door shut, stalking towards the bed, "F.R.I.D.A.Y. lock and soundproof the door and room." Steve commanded and his voice was already dripping with so much dominance, you shivered a little.

You could hear the sounds of the door locking while a faint sheen moved across the walls, sound-proofing the room just as Steve asked.

Steve's eyes trailed over all three of you before landing on you. "You look stunning baby. Come here."

You quickly moved away from Bucky and Sam, feet hitting the floor. Steve drew an arm around your waist, pulling you in for a hungry kiss. You fingers carded into his hair as he leaned you back a little, deepening the kiss.

Steve pulled away from your lips, attacking your neck with sharp, sweet bites, leaving hickies everywhere he could reach.

"Leave us some room." Sam joked, still on the bed.

Steve huffed, pulling away from your neck. "On your knees cookie."

You dropped immediately, knees hitting the white carpet. You weren't wearing knickers- as they would've been easily seen through the white fabric of the nurse uniform- and you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, staring up at Steve.

"Buck, Sam, get over here now."

They both complied rather quickly, standing on either side of you. Steve unbuckled his pants, letting them drop as he kicked them away. You could see the huge bulge against his black boxers, eyeing it like a prize.

Steve took your chin into his hand. "Go on."

You pulled his boxers down, releasing the delicious appendage, before taking him into your mouth.

"Good girl." Steve praised, butterflies dancing in your stomach. "Buck, you know what to do."

You could sense Bucky moving around behind you, but you weren't entirely sure what he was doing until you felt hot breath fan across your pussy. Then you felt his tongue lick through your folds and he groaned, vibrations shot straight to your clit.

You groaned as well, taking as much as Steve as you could, one hand bracing against his thigh as Bucky continued to eat you out, the other moving to massage his balls, want to help him release as fast as possible and not draw it out.

Sam stood to the side, growing more and more needy, keeping his mouth shut.

"Is there a problem Sammy?" Steve asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"No Captain." Sam muttered darkly.

Your giggled at Sam's sullenness was muffled by Steve's cock. Steve threw his head back, groaning as your vibrations sent tingles through his entire body. His hands grasped your hair, his hips lightly thrusting as he started to take control. You went with it. Today was all about Stevie.

Bucky sped up his ministrations on your pussy, holding your hips down so that he had better access. This gave a wonderful angle for Steve to just plunge his dick down your throat.

You were a mess, knot forming in your stomach, whining around Steve's cock. Your nails dug into his thighs as your orgasm approached, trying not to stop your tongue from delivering Steve his pleasure while yours approached.

"Look at me doll." Steve demanded. Your eyes snapped upwards, meeting his and you felt his cock twitch inside your mouth. You gave it a good suck, releasing all over Bucky's face with a mewl. Steve kept his gaze on you, knowing he wasn't going to last long with those innocent E/C eyes staring up at him while performing such a wonderful dirty deed.

Indeed, almost seconds after Bucky finished lapping up your essence and moving out from underneath you- almost making you collapse from a sudden lack of support- Steve released inside your throat. You swallowed the hot salty cum before pulling off Steve's dick.

He immediately yanked you to your feet, smashing his lips to yours. When he pulled apart, he commanded in a deep whisper, "Go kiss Buck now."

You sauntered over to Bucky, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. He moaned, gripping you tightly with his metal and flesh arms.

Sam let a whine slip from his throat and You and Bucky broke apart. Steve stalked over to Sam, "There a problem?"

Sam shifted on his feet. "C'mon, Stevie. I want to join in."

"Do you know why I'm not letting you join in?" Steve asked.

"Because I spoke out of turn." Sam replied.

"Damn straight." Steve said. "Are you going to do it again?"

"No Captain." Sam said quickly.

"Strip. Not you Y/N." Steve said, coming over to you as Bucky and Sam quickly started getting rid of their uniforms. "How 'bout you help Bucky out with his uniform, hmm cookie?"

"Yes Captain." You whispered, reaching out and started untying Bucky's olive green tie, before drawing it away from his neck. Unbuttoning his undershirt as he got rid of the top jacket, belt, and started to undo his dress pants. Once he was fully naked, you stepped back, waiting for Steve who was helping Bucky out.

All three of them were completely naked, and the only thing you were missing was your nurse hat, though you weren't sure when you had lost it.

"On the bed sweetheart." Steve said and you quickly got back up on the bed, the other three surrounding you. Steve knelt in front of you, unbuttoning the nurse uniform, turning to Bucky, "This one of Elizabeth's?"

"Yes, don't rip it. She'll turn us into ice cubes." Bucky replied.

Steve sighed, "Pity. I wanted to rip it off her delicate body." He lifted the nurse outfit up over your head, kissing you on the lips. "But I guess you'll be able to wear it again now."

You grinned. "That's the plan. I think."

Steve slapped your ass gently, but firmly. "Hands and knees sweetheart."

You did as asked.

"How about you suck Sammy off while Buck and I take care of you over here." Steve asked, running two fingers through your sopping folds. He chuckled, "So wet sweetheart."

You opened your mouth as Sam knelt in front of you. He placed his large hands calmly on either side of your face, kissing you on the forehead. "Gonna treat you good baby."

You could feel the bed dipping down and around as Steve and Bucky figured out who was going where, doing what. Finally, you found Steve sliding under you, pulling your hips down slightly. He moved his cock through your folds before pushing in.

You moaned around Sam's cock, feeling completely blissed at the moment. Bucky's metal fingers gently started scissoring your ass as he prepared to take it. It was gentle motions and after so many months, it was getting less and less painful each time.

Sam was getting close, you could tell with the way that his long length was twitching in your mouth.

"Pull off Sammy." Steve demanded, reaching up to cup your throat. You quickly pulled off, trying not to give Sam any more pleasure while doing so.

Sam looked like he wanted to curse Steve out, but held his tongue, looking slightly annoyed. Steve pulled you down to kiss you, lifting your ass a little bit before Bucky pushed into you from behind.

"Oh fuck!" You gasped against Steve's lips, nipping his bottom lip a little. Steve continued to rut up into you while Bucky moved slowly in and out of your ass. Sam was clutching his thighs in his hands, trying his damned hardest not to start stroking himself. You looked like a fucking angel to him and his boys looked so damn good.

His mouth got him in trouble a lot in bed and he always wished he could remember the punishment before he moved his mouth.

Steve left large hickies all over the front of your chest, just adding to the purple bruise like spots on your neck. You could feel Bucky pressing startling soft kisses to your back.

"Fuck, Captain, Sergeant! I'm gonna cum. Please can I cum?" You begged, squeezing tightly around Steve's cock as you both tried to stall and please Steve at the same time.

"Fuck sweetheart." Steve groaned, hands running all over your body as he rutted his hips up to grind against you, "That's it cookie. Cum all over my cock. Show me you're my little whore."

His words were all it took to release all over his cock, one of your best orgasms ever really.

Steve thrusted even faster, working you through your orgasm while Bucky chased his own release. The pleasure and complete fullness was overwhelming and delicious. Steve finally shot up inside of you, making you mewl when he bit down on your shoulder- gently.

Bucky grunted, pulling you upwards as Steve slipped out of you, now pounding into you from behind as he held you in his arms. "Sarg!" You gasped as he twisted your nipples between his fingers.

"Let go for me doll. Show 'em I can fucking ruin you without even giving you anything to ruin you with."

Bucky's words were growled and dark as he thrusted harshly upwards, releasing into your ass while you let go, coming for a second time, without anything to clench down upon.

Bucky chuckled as he pulled out slowly, kissing your neck.

Sam was even harder than before, watching his boys completely ruin you while he wasn't allowed to touch you. He could, of course, get you alone without the other two, though his punishment would be worse if they found out he'd fucked you without them.

It might be worth it though.

"Sam." Steve said.

"Yes Cap?"

"You've been doing pretty good now." Steve complimented, "What do you want to do with her?"

Sam grinned, "Wanna overstimulate her."

A slow smile started moving over Bucky's face too and you shivered in anticipation.

Steve looked at Bucky, "You know what to get."

Bucky moved off the bed, going over to the closet, kneeling to pull out a box on the floor.

"Look at me cookie." Steve demanded and you quickly turned to look at him. He pulled you into another kiss, before you felt the bed dip again, lots of cold metal being placed on your stomach, making you shiver.

"If you're not okay with anything, you tell us, okay baby?" Sam cooed, running his hands up your legs. "And if you feel somethings to much or you want to stop, you use the word 'time'."

You nodded, feeling medium sized rope being looped around your wrists as Bucky tied them together, before tying them up and around the headboard of the bed.

Steve took fabric from your side, tying it gently behind your head.

You heard metal clinking, before there was a pressure on your nipples, making you gasp at the sudden sensation.

"How are you doing baby?" Bucky asked, tugging the nipple clamps a little bit.

"Good." You murmured, both turned on, excited, but also a little nervous.

"Well, go on Sam." Steve smirked. You could feel Steve moving so that he had settled behind you slightly. He ran his hands up and down your sides, a comfort, before you felt Sam push into your pussy.

"Fuck." Sam groaned sensually, tossing his head back as he felt your warmth encase his pulsing cock. "You feel so good sugar."

You felt a metal and flesh hand on your hips now, someone straddling you slightly, situating themselves lightly below your breasts.

The metal and flesh hands moved to push your breasts together and you could feel someone's cock- most likely Bucky by the metal hand- between them.

"Fuck doll." Bucky drawled. "I'm gonna fuck these perfect tits."

You whined, wishing you could see Bucky as he started to massage your breasts, thrusting his hips lightly. Steve's hands rubbed circles on your shoulders and Steve's touch brought you back to reality. "Wait."

Bucky and Sam stilled, but didn't pull away as you hadn't used the safe word.

"Something wrong cookie?" Steve's voice had a hint of worry in it.

"No, but I thought. . . thought today was all about Stevie. Making sure you're okay." You mumbled, tilting your head back as though you could see him through the blindfold. "Want to please you Captain."

Both Bucky and Sam started moving inside of you again so you assumed Steve had told them to resume nonverbally.

"Letting me do whatever I want to you is pleasing me." Steve purred lowly in your ear before both Bucky and Sam started to speed up, making you moan. You could feel every sensation now with your eyesight gone.

The tickle of Sam's beard whenever he bent low, brushing against your stomach. Steve's hair tickling around your ear as he whispered against your shoulder. The callouses on all of their hands- minus the cool smoothness of Bucky's metal hand- as they touched you. How Sam's cock felt inside your cunt as he split you apart. How smooth and wet Bucky's felt as he fucked your breasts. The weird, but pleasing sensation of your breasts being squeezed and pushed together.

How the knot was building up in your stomach, the way that it was making your toes curl and you strained against your bonds as you tried to pull away.

"Fuck! Sammy, gonna cum!"

Sammy quickly sped up, reaching over and you could hear him getting something else. "FUCK!" You moaned as you released all over his cock.

"Good job sweetheart." Steve murmured in your ear. "Gonna let you see now."

He undid the black cloth, letting it fall over on the side of the bed. You could now see Bucky in front of you and you dipped your head, opening your mouth. As he pushed upwards, you flicked your tongue out, making Bucky groan at the teasing of his slit. A few more of these and he came all over your face, in your mouth, and on your breasts.

"You look beautiful doll." Bucky teased, grabbing a cloth to wipe away semen from around your eyes, but left everything else messy.

He moved off and you could now see what Sam had in his hands- which were some sort of beads on a rope. They started out small before getting larger and larger.

"You want to try those out?" Steve asked in his ear.

"What are they?" You asked curiously.

Sam chuckled, "Oh you're so innocent babe. They're anal beads."

You assumed they were exactly as they sounded. Beads that would go into your ass.

"I would like to try them." You said shyly.

Steve kissed the top of your head, "Remember your stop word, alright?"

You simply nodded, not wanting to actually say it aloud in case they took it as a sign that you wanted to stop.

"Good girl." Bucky murmured before he flipped you over so that you were on your stomach now. Your hands were still tied to the bed, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Although you could feel a slight contrast of your nipples against the bedsheets, as they were still clamped.

"Gonna tell us when to stop." Bucky murmured, petting your hair back as Sam pushed the first ball in.

It really didn't hurt and it even felt good in a weird way. There was a type of fullness that came with it, especially the bigger the balls got. Finally, it got to a point where the last one you had taken was just slightly to big and you weren't sure you could take another. "That's good." You said.

Sam laughed, "That was the last one baby."

"Oh."

Steve chuckled, kissing your cheek. "Such a good girl for us, hmm?"

"For you, mhmm." You nodded, looking up at him through your long lashes. It made his heart flutter when you looked at him like that, especially with your ass in the air, the pink handle to pull the beads out sticking out a bit. The metal underneath you, your nipples a lovely pink colour. Your pussy dripping for him and his boys. It looked as though the last thing to use on you was. . . a vibrator. Sam really was going all out tonight.

"Want the honors Stevie?" Sam asked, holding the silver and blue vibrator out to him, moving to kneel in front of you, bringing you just slightly upwards so that your elbows were resting on his thighs. This alleviated some of the pain in your breasts, though it kept you in a position where your pussy was presented to Bucky and Steve beautifully.

"My pleasure." Steve said, moving to angle himself just right, pushing into you. You moaned, shivers going down your spine. His hand moved to wrap around your waist before you heard buzzing and immediately jolted when he touched the vibrator to your clit.

You squirmed, moaned, mewled, and came over and over again as Steve and Bucky took turns fucking you relentlessly, rarely removing the vibrator as they did so. You were starting to go high up into the clouds, as you came again, toes curling. Sam simply held your upper body, occasionally pulling on the nipple clamps.

Nearing the last orgasm of the night- afternoon? Morning?- He unclipped them and you uttered a tiny scream as the blood rushed back to the sensitive nubs. You completely collapsed into Sam's arms while the other two finished riding you out.

You could just barely feel Bucky pulling out while Steve gently removed the beads. Bucky headed to the bathroom and Steve untied your hands before rolling you onto your back to face him.

His face was flush, his hair a mess, and there was a cheeky grin on his face. "How are you holding up sweetheart?"

"Good Stevie." You mumbled, voice hoarse from screaming all of their titles over and over again, with a handful of curse words mixed in.

Steve kissed your forehead, taking the washcloth from Bucky. "How 'bout we all go and take a bath together, hmm?"

You just closed your eyes, tired, giving a small nod. Sam picked you up and carried you over to the bathtub. The four of you took a nice bath, before climbing back into bed, and promptly falling asleep.

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asherlockstudy · 1 month ago

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okay. i am asking anonymously because i enjoy rhink being with their wives and with each other. however, i have been reading some of your theories and thinking things.

as i listen more and a little closer, i wonder if they are still with their wives due to their upbringing. not a huge earbisuits listener, so i listened to that specific part you mentioned. 30 minute argument over WALKING? and Rhett was so determined to be right. and Link and Christy clearly have more problems than i thought if she retreats to the garage.

both relationships are clearly mostly still together due to their religious backgrounds. they just decided it would always work? which clearly means there are times they thought it wouldn't but they wouldn't let themselves. evangelicals do tend to be pretty big on not getting divorced.

i also wonder about that honeymoon night in the bathtub that i still dont know the full story. maybe the two really do love each other but, for as much as they've deconstructed, are not able to take this final leap and that makes me sad.

Unfortunately this mail came before the recent judgemental anon but I am answering it afterwards so... yeah... you and I might make someone mad... anyway. Perhaps I won't tag this,I hope you see it.

I think staying together due to the upbringing could be one of the reasons or it could have been a more significant reason in the past. But aren't they done being evangelicals at this point? I mean, don't they realise that by shedding the faith, they could also shed this belief for being tightly associated to the faith?

Then again it could be bigger than them, like you said. However, I think there is more. First of all, the marriage that downright seems forced to me is Link's. Sorry. I don't want it to be like that but for every good thing he mentions about his marriage, he mentions another 99 negative ones. I do think Link would like to end things. But Christy doesn't, both because she is the one sticking most to the faith still but also I think she is still into Link, despite Link getting on her nerves... basically all the time, as it seems.

Rhett's is so much harder to tell because he is always acting up so much. For all we know, it could be a great marriage or at least it could be good enough to not end up in a divorce or maybe they have an arrangement that makes it work in some way. Let's not forget that around 2018, Rhett talked ALL THE FREAKING TIME about that year being a milestone in his marriage because he and Jessie had a huge "talk" that kind of led to a new era in their relationship. And then one of those times Link let it slip (probably intentionally) that he was present in the "talk"! (However, granted, it seemed like there were other people there too.) This was the era before the shipper mass exit so almost everybody here concluded that Rhett meant he had opened his marriage. I don't know what it was (I doubt this would be decided in front of others) but in any case I do think the McLaughlins would reach some sort of non-traditional agreement to make things work out more readily than the Neals. Neither Link nor Christy would go for such solutions, they seem to be both raging monogamists. Which is why Link seems to suffer so much in his situation, especially if he also has feelings for Rhett.

Now, Rhett is a pretty sexual being. He's acting up about many things but not for this one. So for him to stay loyal and committed (aside from whatever might or might not be happening with Link) probably takes extra commitment and work from him than from anyone else in this story. This could make any relationship for him to start feeling tedious or oppressive after so many years. He is so focused on commitment that you might be right that it could be the religion holding him still. In any case, it is admirable how eager he is to stay committed. But let's be real, part of it is also how much Rhett fears that a divorce would make others and his relatives consider him a failure as a family man / husband.

BTW the 30 minute walking debate didn't seem that strange to me. Rhett loves to debate and win debates. Even Jessie at some point confirmed that she was done with Rhett always trying to be correct, so maybe she started being competitive just to get to him. I don't think that seemed serious. What seemed serious IMO in that segment was that Link's mouth got so downturned I thought he was fighting back tears..... Well, he certainly looked sad!

#anon #mail

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kay-wren · 2 months ago

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I'll Come Running - R.C. - Chapter 73

Rafe led his Jessie out onto the open floor, where people had been mindlessly swaying for hours to light contemporary music. They began to do the same, both gazing into the other's eyes with a warmth they hadn't felt in a while.

"It seems like the MM are doing pretty well here." Rafe spoke up, not letting go of the eye contact.

"I told you they would be just fine." Jessie replied with a soft smile. Rafe laughed and looked down, with a nod of understanding.

"You were right." He stated plainly. A little moment of silence elapsed before Rafe finally mustered up the courage to say what he had been waiting to say for years.

"Jessie..."

His wife waited patiently for his next words, raising her brows and leaning in a little more. He looked down and swallowed the lump in his throat, trying not to show his nerves. He looked back up at Jessie with a newfound seriousness that almost concerned her.

"I have something I want to give you."

Jessie knitted her brows together in clear confusion. The couple still managed to sway back and forth to the piano while Rafe carefully rummaged through his pants pocket. He eventually pulled out the tiny black box and carefully opened it, revealing the gorgeous ring that caught the warm mood lighting perfectly. Jessie's jaw dropped, but she was still confused... she already had a ring?

"This... is my mom's ring..." Rafe trailed off as he looked at his wife with hope behind his eyes. "And I want you to wear it."

"Rafe I can't-"

"She'd want you to, Jess... you're the girl she's always dreamed of for me. And if she were here right now I know she'd do the same."

Jessie choked on her words, suddenly feeling like the room was getting hotter and smaller. She looked around to see the pogues were now all standing comfortably at the bar with smiles on their faces watching the exchange. Oh god. This was not about to be pretty. She took a deep labored breath and looked back up at Rafe. However, her expression was not one of unbelief and gratitude like Rafe expected. Instead, she looked... conflicted... and a little distraught. He was now the one to wear the confusion across his face. Jessie shook her head slowly, trying to choose her next words carefully. Rafe suddenly was overwhelmed with fear of what she was going to say next. He could also feel the room getting tighter and tighter with each passing second. The ringing in his ears was too much to bear, but suddenly Jessie's voice cut right through it.

"Rafe." She spoke up just loud enough for him to hear. Her eyes were now locked on the man in front of her and her jaw was clenched. Shit. She was angry... but why? "I thought you would have come to me by now." She whispered in an eerily calm demeanor as she shook her head in disappointment.

"What do you mean?" Rafe asked, now with his brows furrowed. He was begging for her to elaborate.

"You really think I don't know?" Jessie spat, now playing with a neutral expression on her face. It looked as if she was hiding a smirk.

"Know what?" Rafe asked, clearly playing dumb. He wanted to let go of Jessie and back away slowly for fear of what was to come, yet suddenly he felt her grip tighten, as if to silently say that they were about to have this tough, ugly conversation in front of every one. She laughed as she looked down for a split second.

"About the coke." Jessie finally answered. Rafe still tried to play it off like he was clueless.

"W-what? Jessie? What coke?"

Jessie just laughed and bit her lip.

"Rafe... you really don't think I'm that stupid do you?"

She knew. Rafe realized there was no hiding it anymore. Tears began to fill his eyes and his lip began to quiver. Yet he still danced, for fear of what would happen if he stopped.

"H-how-"

"I've known for a long time now, Rafe." She interrupted. Yet her ability to never lose her cool was always what made Rafe so uneasy.

"B-but why didn't you-"

"I wanted to give you the opportunity to either fix your mistake or come to me about it... and seeing as you've done neither and clearly have no intention of telling me before putting your own mothers ring on my finger... I can't let it slide by anymore. I won't."

Rafe struggled to breathe. All he could utter were two simple words.

"How long?"

Ironically, Jessie's face still showed some sort of odd sympathy, yet Rafe knew it was all an act for the party going on around them. She cupped his face in her hand, which now felt ice cold to him, much like her calculated words.

"I've know the whole time."

Rafe still couldn't catch his breath, now just standing there with his mouth wide open and his eyes searching for any sign of understanding from the woman he loved. He wouldn't find any.

"I knew you were strung out the night we had dinner out on the patio at the Bahamas. I knew you were on coke the night we fought in my old apartment. I knew you were high the night of our little dinner party with the shareholders, and every time in between, Rafe."

Rafe was now shaking at the realization that Jessie was not bluffing. Then again, she never did. He couldn't find many words.

"H-how did you-"

"Rafe..." she interrupted, this time with a smirk that wasn't trying to be hidden. "I know you..." she whispered. God, she was right. Rafe thought how could he be so stupid, thinking Jessie couldn't see right through him this whole time? "I know you better than anyone in this world... I know you better than you know yourself... and that's always been what makes us and what breaks us."

Rafe felt like he was going to puke. Jessie was unpredictable... almost unreadable in the moment. Yet the party continued around them, with nobody having any clue what hell just broke loose between the matriarch and patriarch of this party.

"Rafe..." Jessie went on, toying with a grin. "This whole time you've felt the need to tell me how to play this game. Telling me how I need to act, what I need to say, and how I need to move strategically in order to give our family a shot at a better life ... you still think I'm some hot head who's always going to say what I think and not consider the consequences of my actions..." Jessie paused, licking her lips and allowing Rafe to hang on to her every word. She still swayed to the music in perfect frame. She pushed her eyebrows together as she locked eyes with her husband.

"I know exactly how to play this game. Don't you ever think for one damn second I don't know what it means to hold my tongue for the sake of someone I love." She said, this time her eyes shifted to a darkness he hadn't seen before. It was a rage that she had masked for god knows how long. Jessie had Rafe in the palm of her hand, and he could feel her starting to crush his facade slowly, all while maintaining hers. This. This moment right here, was exactly what her upbringing had prepared her for. Rafe had never seen anyone... not even him... not even his father... with the ability to read people like Jessie did. It was her sixth sense.

The words made Rafe's heart stop. He was convinced it actually would have if he hadn't still been somehow standing up. He felt Jessie finally drop his hand in the middle of the dance floor and walk away. He stood there with his feet planted on the floor as he watched Jessie slide right past the Pogues to get a glass of champagne from the bar like nothing had happened, the gentle sway of her backless dress now emphasized by her loose hips. There she was... still playing the game too damn well. She uttered a few words to her brother and whisked herself away. Rafe just watched as she calmly exited through the grand doors. He had no clue what to do.

The fact that Jessie just waltzed out of the room as if she hadn't just dropped a bomb on his life was the first thing that came to his numb mind. Suddenly, his insecurity turned to downright storm clouds behind his eyes. Although he needed to stay and entertain, he knew he wouldn't be able to, not with the anger that was impossible for him to hide. He seethed at the idea of her sauntering back into their home, feeling accomplished with the way she left him and him having to go on with the night and explain why she wasn't there. Now he was the one who felt like he was a pawn that his wife was clearly in control of. How the tables had turned.

He shouldn't have been as infuriated as he was considering that he had been keeping just as big of a secret— if not bigger— from his wife. Yet he couldn't ignore the burning in his chest and the fire in his brain. He took short breaths and clinched his fists together, trying his damndest not to let anyone there see him sweat. Not the Pogues, not the MM, and certainly not his shareholders. But god, he couldn't just stand there. Before he had the opportunity to be swept away by more mindless chatter from some random, he trudged past the crowd and walked straight out of the room, leaving the party without a host.

Rafe walked through the Fourier and towards his private elevator. He had assumed that Jessie had done the same just minutes before. As he was going up to the top floor he couldn't help but pace in that tiny box. Should he be upset? Should he be grateful? Should he take it out on Jessie? Who exactly was he upset with? He had no answers. Finally, the ding of the elevator rang through and the doors opened. He marched down to the last door and jingled his keys around to unlock it. He cursed Jessie under his breath for being petty enough to lock the door. He swung it wide open to reveal his wife sitting on the couch with a glass of champagne in her hand and her silk dress still on. Despite her looking rather comfortable, Rafe could tell she was anything but. She still had her shoes on, which meant she was prepared to leave at any moment. In fact, he noticed she changed into her dirty white converse. She wasn't just prepared to leave, she was prepared to run... or fight.

Even though the thud of the door swinging against the wall was loud enough to wake the dead, Jessie simply rotated her head achingly slow to see her seething husband at the entrance. His jaw was locked, eyes narrowed, nose flared, and chest bowed. She lived for it.

"What the hell was that out there, huh?" Rafe fumed, now walking in the living room, suddenly feeling like his tie was suffocating him and opting to loosen it.

"It was me confronting you." Jessie replied plainly— almost sarcastically— not daring to drop the eye contact as she took a sip of her champagne. She hated the stuff, but she needed a buzz.

"A-a-and you didn't think to do that shit in private weeks ago? You are unbelievable, Jessie Cameron!"

"How is this my fault?" Jessie sassed right back, now standing up. "You're the one that willingly hid your coke addiction from me for weeks!"

"I was gonna tell you-"

"Bullshit, Rafe!" A pause came over them as Rafe realized he had been called out once more. "The longer you hide it the easier it gets. I knew that! I saw the distance in your eyes weeks ago! I was going to confront you after the holidays but tonight... when you wanted to put that ring on my finger... I couldn't do it. Not when I knew you were lying to me. Your mother deserved better."

"Don't tell me what my mother deserves Jessica!" Rafe was now screaming from the top of his lungs. Jessie knew she made the right choice when she told JJ to keep Charley downstairs no matter what until she texted him. Jessie just paused, looking at the man in front of her with disgust.

"You're a monster." She said with disgust.

"You made the monster... twice."

Jessie sucked in a breath as she realized just what Rafe meant. Now she was the one being confronted with her own part in this disaster. The fact that she had introduced— and reintroduced— her husband to coke was the sin she couldn't forgive herself for even if she tried. And she had tried. She constantly told herself that it wasn't her fault that Rafe took his addiction too far. But she learned that two things can be true at the same time. Rafe hadn't seemed to understand that just yet. The words alone took the fire out of her breath and the fierceness out of her eyes. She now teared up at the scary reality that Rafe actually blamed her for this... and she did too.

"Rafe..." she squeaked out, still trying to hold onto her determination through short breaths. "You didn't deserve what happened to you... but neither did I." Jessie hoped those words were enough for Rafe to find his fault in this as well. Clearly Jessie had. The guilt of it had eaten away at her for years.

Rafe felt he had cast plenty of blame on himself all the way up until this point. Why he couldn't see past his rage? He didn't know.

"I'm having a hard time forgiving you this time..." Jessie said. Rafe laughed and put his hands on his hips as he looked down. He shook his head and clicked his tongue, clearly not believing what he was hearing. He popped his head back up with a fake smile.

"You know what, Jessie? I'm having a hard time forgiving you this time."

Jessie looked down at her husband's shoes and played with the skin on her lips. He noticed her posture deflate at his words. It seemed they were at an impasse. Jessie just looked around for the words.

"Well then I guess... neither one of us know where to go from here." She said as she threw her hands up in defeat. The words cut deep for both of them. A hush fell between them as they both realized what this meant.

"I guess it does." Rafe tried to say nonchalantly with a flustered shrug of his shoulders .

"Rafe..." Jessie continued, this time no longer masking the clear hopelessness in her voice and eyes. He watched her intently. "Were no good for each other. When we're together all we know how to do is be irresponsible. This isn't high school anymore. Besides ... neither one of us had any love to give in the first place... we both knew that."

Yet another reality check that stung a little too much for either of them to handle. Yet Rafe tried to keep his composure. He shrugged and blinked back tears.

"We didn't know how." He replied, with a nod indicating he understood. That was the sad reality neither one of them had voiced until this very moment. The couple once bonded over their warped perception of love... and yet now it was their downfall.

"So there's no fixing this." Jessie stated. "But I mean... we do have a daughter to raise."

Rafe looked beyond his wife to think of a solution. He couldn't find one.

"Jessie, you don't trust me... and I don't trust you. And like you said... all we do is tear each other apart. We know each other too well."

"Yeah... but our daughter trusts us. And I swore the second I found out I was pregnant that she would not be the child of drugged out father and a helpless mother... so until you can get this figured out... I'm taking Charley."

As if the conversation couldn't get any more earth shattering, Rafe realized that he was now losing his daughter too. His eyes grew wide and panic clearly set in.

"Woah woah woah woah... you're not gonna keep my daughter from me."

"Yes I am Rafe..." Jessie implored calmly as she walked over to their bedroom. Rafe followed her. "And it starts tonight... I'm going back to my old apartment." Jessie finished as she began to pack a small backpack.

"Wait wait wait, Jessie." Rafe pleaded now with wide eyes as he realized this conversation took a totally different turn that he wasn't prepared for.

"I didn't think you actually meant leaving me, I mean I though this was just another-"

"What the hell else am I supposed to do, Rafe? It's the only way you seem to get your shit together... but I'm not coming back... we're done."

"Jessie..." Rafe begged with tears in his eyes as he got closer. He knew she didn't throw out ultimatums unless she meant them. She meant it this time. He knew when she was done. He wanted to touch her so bad, at least find some way to bring her back to him, but he knew he couldn't.

"Rafe, you act like taking my child from you is easy! You don't think it's killing me? The thought of having to explain to her why she can't see you every morning? Why her mom and dad aren't sleeping in the same bed or living in the same house? I know the questions are gonna come... and I'm gonna have to answer them... for the rest of her life! This was exactly why I left in the first place! And now I'm forced to do the very thing I was terrified of... sharing our daughter."

"Jessie..." Rafe cried, trying anything to get her to stay and work this out.

"Rafe..." Jessie interrupted, now with just as many tears. "It's over." Her voice cracked.

As much as he didn't want to, Rafe understood. He swallowed the lump in his throat, now looking at Jessie with not a thought behind his eyes except for his own guilt and reconciliation. He choked on his next words, unsure of what to say to get her back.

"Look, Jessie, if it's not you it's not anyone... I tried for years to fill that void and I'm never going to find anyone else..."

Jessie laughed at the very idea. Rafe clearly was frantic and pulling at straws to figure out any other reason to convince her to stay.

"Rafe..." she rolled her eyes with a hopeless smile. "I'm not gonna be with someone else either... To be with anyone else is a crime... and just not fair to whatever pour innocent soul that could be. We're the only ones perfectly wrong for each other." She whispered as she looked dead on at the man she loved most.

The both of them knew that to be true, both equally as damned to ruin the next person if they ever came along. They reserved that right only for each other.

Jessie began to walk towards the front door, bag in hand to go downstairs and pick up Charley, and probably any other pogues that want to go with her. She couldn't bring herself to walk out without first turning around to look at her husband.

"Rafe."

No words were said, yet Jessie could tell he was hanging on every word. He stood just mere feet from her in the doorway with his hands on his hips trying to keep it together.

"I love you. Never forget that."

To hell with keeping it together, at that point all Rafe could do was look away and pinch his features together in an attempt to not let the waterworks fly. His lip quivered. He sniffled and took a deep breath, looking back at his wife.

"I love you too. And don't you forget this, Jessie Cameron..." He replied with a point of his shaky finger through tears. Jessie inclined her ear, imploring him to go on through tears of her own.

"If you ever need me... I'll come running."

It was in that moment, as the two star crossed lovers locked eyes with so much love yet so much hatred that this was the way it had to be, that they realized that maybe the only reason for their romance was for Jessie to make Rafe a little more wild... and for Rafe to make Jessie a little more cautious. If that was the case, they had served their purpose.

#drew starkey #obx #outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #jj maybank #outer banks imagine #rudy pankow #fanfic #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron angst #rafe imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #dark rafe cameron #angst #Youtube

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dragoncantus · 1 year ago

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Man, I've been watchign streamers playthough ffvii remake lately after all the rebirth news. And like, I still notice or learn or realize new things every time. Or just think about things another way or a deeper way.

I've long since held that the members of team avalanche that we know are interesting. The two that join our party in the long run (Barret and Tifa) we learn throughout the og game that they're motivations are (or at least started) selfishly. And in remake we learn that Jessie's is similar in that vein. They all have a personal grudge against Shinra that led them to seek out Avalanche.

I was thinking about that again as I'm watching them board the train for the Mako 5 reactor job and watching all of Tifa's reactions and sighs about how much she hates it. And it suddenly hit me. (incredible obvious in hindsight). Her's might be purely driven by her hatred for Shinra. Sure saving the planet is a nice side effect, but Tifa wants to hurt Shinra. And for her, hurting Shinra shouldn't also be hurting anyone else. She's a kind and caring person.

While Barret's motivations started wtih his personal grudge against Shinra I definitely think that he at least believes that it's about saving the planet now. He's convinced himself. Jessie actively wants to stop the mako reactors to save her dad (whether just his essence or actually him). Saving the planet is the way to save her dad. But Tifa's here to stand against Shinra specifically. And standing against Shinra shouldn't hurt the innocent bystanders.(I wish we knew why Biggs and Wedge joined. Maybe they're team planet first but we do know biggs was probably an orphan so that could be smth.)

She grapples with this concept because it's not about the bigger picture of saving the planet. It's not about the ends justify the means. Its about putting a stop to someone who ruined your life so they cant ruin anyone else's. (or the less noble sounding version of that also known as revenge.)

Again, all incrediby obvious in the long run. It just suddenly jumped out at me in this round of watching and I was like "that's what's so hard for her, compared to everyone else." She's not quite on the same page or wavelength, even though ultimately their goals are the same.

And that's smth really cool remake did, I think. And makes me more excited to dive into more backstory in rebirth.

#analysis #rambles #final fantasy vii remake #tifa lockhart #avalanche (ff7)#potential rebirth spoilers #character study #man i love this franchise #is it leap day yet?

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mylifeincinema · 3 months ago

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My Week(s) in Reviews: September 8, 2024

Got a bunch for you, this week, so let's jump right in...

Rebel Ridge (Jeremy Saulnier, 2024)

Easily One of the Very Best Films of 2024, So Far. Rebel Ridge is a calculated thriller with a smart and balanced screenplay and lived-in performances that never seem forced and never make any of the choices or actions seem convenient. Saulnier milks this premise for every bit of tension possible, and delivers an amazingly restrained piece of cinema that refuses to opt for any of the obvious choices. And the final showdown goes to shit in a manner stays true to the characters while still giving the audiences what they came for. - 9/10

If (John Kosinski, 2024)

Why the heck wasn't this a hit in cinemas?!? This was utterly delightful, through and through. An imaginative, heartfelt exploration of fear, and a celebration of holding onto any shred of childhood you can, for as long as you can. The cast was stellar, and the realization (which probably took me about twice as long to realize than it should have) hit me like a brick, absolutely destroying me in the best way possible. - 8.5/10

The Watchers (Ishana Shyamalan, 2024)

I mostly didn't find it as bad as the reviews led me to believe it would be. But I do think—overall—it fumbled a potentially interesting/terrifying premise with flat characters and amateurish handling of suspense. - 4.5/10

The Boy and the Heron (Hayao Miyazaki, 2023)

The animation—especially the early fire and subsequent flashbacks—is unsurprisingly stunning... absolutely stunning. And Miyazaki's world-building is straight-up magic, as always. However, the actual plot didn't quite hit me the way his other films have, and it dragged big-time in the second act. - 7/10

Drive-Away Dolls (Ethan Coen, 2024)

Far and away the worst thing either Coen brother has ever been involved in. Just a stupid, boring little road trip movie with unlikable/annoying characters and the most watered down Coen-esque plot imaginable. - 3.5/10

Wicked Little Letters (Thea Sharrock, 2024)

A really fun acting showcase for Olivia Colman and Jessie Buckley, and very little else. - 6.5/10

Role Play (Thomas Vincent, 2024)

Only watched it because I was bored and didn't know what else to watch and I'd had it in my queue since its release because of Kaley Cuoco. It's really bad. A boring rehash of so many other mediocre movies, but without any of the style or star power. However, Kaley Cuoco looks amazing in that wig, and Bill Nighy has a really fun minor part, so it wasn't a complete waste of time. - 3/10

I also revisited Close Encounters of the Third Kind because my parents visited Devil's Tower recently and their pictures got me in the mood for one of the very best sci-fi films ever made. Then I needed some comfort horror one night, so I watched Scre4m again. I needed something Criterion one afternoon so I watched Powell & Pressburger's wonderful A Matter of Life and Death, and now I've been jonesing for a revisit of The Red Shoes, but haven't gotten around to it, yet. And finally, just tonight I rewatched Beetlejuice to prepare for going to see the sequel on Tuesday.

Enjoy!

-Timothy Patrick Boyer.

#movies #film #movie reviews #beetlejuice #rebel ridge #i #my week in reviews #the watchers #the boy and the heron #role play #wicked little letters #drive away dolls #movie #cinema #film review #netflix #etc.

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flemingsfreckles · 6 months ago

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Dress

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Synopsis: inspired off the song Dress by Taylor Swift (normally not a big TS fan but this song gives off such gay/secret relationship vibes)

Warnings: suggestive, language

WC: 2.3k

A/N: pretend Jessie is still at Chelsea for the sake of this 🙃 also ignore Niamh in the photo, there’s like only 2 photos of Jessie in that button up outfit and I’ve used the other one already, despite the fact that yall want a Niamh x Jessie x Reader fic, this is not it.

Your eyes scanned the room filled with your teammates in search of the brown hair and brown eyed Canadian you were trying to find and yet trying to avoid coming into direct contact with.

In your second scan of the crowded room, you find her across the way, speaking with some of your other teammates.

You watch as Jessie’s eyes catch yours, before they widen and trail downward, taking in your whole body. As her eyes admire you, you watch her suck in a large breath, her eyebrows raised, cheeks puffed out as she slowly releases the air in her lungs. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. She gives you a small and slow nod when her eyes meet yours again.

You had succeeded.

You knew she wanted you to rush over to her, to say hello, give her a hug, whisper something for just the two of you in her ear, so you did the opposite.

You found Millie first, giving her a hug, she gushed over your dress. You chatted with her for a bit, glancing around the room occasionally, noticing Jessie’s eyes always meeting yours. She was watching you intensely, just what you had hoped.

You were quickly interrupted by Guro, Erin, and Sam all making their way over, drinks in their hands. The three greeted you, all making comments that they were shocked by your dress, in a good way of course. It felt weird having your teammates gush over your appearance, you had been dressed up around them before but usually opted for a blazer, pantsuit, never before a dress.

Wanting to tease Jessie more, you continue making your rounds, avoiding the area of the room where she and Niamh stood. You took the occasional glance in their direction, Jessie’s eyes always looking over Niamh's shoulder and at you. You felt like prey being hunted by her intense gaze. You talk with Aggie and Maika, a couple of the assistant coaches, dragging out the conversations, keeping Jessie waiting for you. When you had finally said hello to everyone that had already arrived except Jessie, you decided it was time to put the poor girl out of her misery.

You finally make your way over to Jessie. She’s staring you down as you approach her, her eyes locked on your body.

“Hi Jess.” You lean in giving her a hug and she gives you a peck on the cheek. It’s casual, quick, and boring to the outside world. But the way you slid your hand down to the small of her back and the way she let her lips linger on your cheek for an extra second, was not casual.

When you pulled away from her you kept your hand on the small of her back, turning so the two of you were shoulder to shoulder as if you were standing before a game for the anthems.

“You look,” she lets out a sigh that tells you everything you needed to know, “you look fantastic.”

“Thanks. Actually funny enough, I was told if I always dressed like this, maybe I wouldn’t be single.” You say it as a joke, Jessie doesn’t take it as one.

“You’re not single.” The Canadian leans in to grumble into your ear, clearly not a fan of the thought of you being available.

“Oh I’m not? I don’t recall anyone asking me to be in a relationship.” You pat her back softly, letting your fingers just barely dance into the waistband of her pants.

You and Jessie had been seeing each other as more than friends for a couple weeks now. It had started as innocent coffee trips, those trips quickly became more formal coffee dates, those dates turned into spending the afternoons and evenings at each others places, which led to just three weeks ago, you straddling the Canadian on her couch, your fingers in her hair and her hands around your waist as the two of you kissed for the first time. You hadn’t yet put any form of label on it, but you continued seeing each other, the romantic and sexual tension very much still alive between the two of you.

“I don’t like how they’re staring.” You can feel the jealousy radiating off of Jessie. She’s looking out across the room to all your teammates. It was weird, the new attention you were getting. You knew none of your teammates meant it in a way of making you uncomfortable and you knew that, it was just different seeing them surprised by your outfit.

“No need to be jealous, Fleming.” You say to her before leaning in close again to whisper in her ear as she takes a sip of the beer in her hand. “Just remember I bought this dress thinking about only you taking it off my body tonight.” That gets Jessie’s attention, her eyes widen and she’s sent into a coughing fit choking on her drink. Your comment is said half as an invitation, half as a statement. The two of you had made out plenty in your three week escapades, but not getting any further than you did only four days ago in her apartment after training.

You had been making out against the hallway of her apartment when Jessie had picked you up, your legs around her waist as she carried you into her bedroom. She had quickly discarded your training top, kissing down your neck before removing your bra and starting to harshly suck dark red marks across your chest. You had removed her shirt and just as she leaned down to trail kisses down your stomach her phone rang. A FaceTime call from her sister. She had apologized profusely as she threw your shirt back to you as she donned her own. You weren’t upset, you had been the one who insisted she answer the call. However the interaction left you incredibly sexually frustrated for the next few days, giving you the brilliant idea of the dress.

You were already in need of an outfit for the banquet, leading you to be wandering around the store. You had texted Fran, Niamh, and a few other teammates to see what they were wearing. You walked in circles looking at jackets and pants, shirts, nothing seemed to pull your interest until you found yourself in the gown and dress section. The black dress you had bought was on display, it caught your eye. It was a tight, yet tasteful black dress, more than appropriate for the occasion and yet perfect to make Jessie have the opposite of appropriate thought.

Sneaking around with her had been fun, the quick glances in the locker room, the extra second you two spent looking at each other after Jessie had ended up with her body pressed on top of you after you tackled her a little too hard at training, the way she’d give your hand an extra squeeze when you’d high-five after games, all the subtle moments of your relationship happening right in front of everyone’s eyes, without anyone knowing at all.

Those red marks she had made on your skin the other day were now golden bruises across your chest, an arousing reminder of your evening when you got dressed this afternoon. You were thankful they weren’t visible in the lower cut neckline of the dress. You took one last look in the mirror before you left to come to the banquet. You couldn’t help but smirk at yourself, you wanted to drive Jessie crazy, make her stare, make her blush, make her squirm in her seat while she tried to keep your teammates oblivious to your situationship, this dress was going to be perfect for that job.

“We should go mingle.” You say, dropping your hand from Jessie’s back, a few more members of the staff had arrived, you wanted to say hello. Jessie just lets out a dissatisfied grumble. “I’ll see you in a bit.” You say to her as you walk away. You only get a few steps before you turn back, delighted by the sight. Jessie’s eyes had been fixated on your ass, she only looked away when she noticed you turned around catching her behavior. Her face flushed slightly and you gave her a quick wink before turning and moving to the other side of the room.

The seating at dinner was beyond your control but whoever was in charge of it did you a huge favor, sitting you right next to Jessie. You wander around looking for your name, finding it on the little place card, you take a lap looking at the rest of the names on the table before you come back reading the final name on the table for the seat to your left. You almost let out a laugh as you read Jessie’s name. This would be fun.

Dinner starts innocently enough. Plenty of conversation to keep both you and Jessie thinking about other things than the tension between you. It’s only once everyone starts eating, conversation slows and it becomes increasingly obvious how close you’re sat to her.

As you finish up your meal and speeches begin to start, you feel a weight on your lap. Jessie’s hand, under the tablecloth, resting on your upper thigh. She gently squeezes and you’re thankful that no one is seated directly behind your table, meaning no one sees how you move your leg outward to encourage her touch.

You let her touch your thigh, rubbing your skin through the dress for a couple minutes before you promptly stand up, excusing yourself to the table, saying you had to use the restroom and you’d be back. As you walk away you can’t help but turn back giving a look at Jessie, whose eyes were again watching you walk away.

You head to the bathroom, half because you had to use it and half because you wanted to see if Jessie would follow. You get your answer when you open the door from the stall to go wash your hands and Jessie is standing, arms crossed leaning against the wall. You take a moment to take in her stature, you had been so focused on her reaction to your own dress that you didn’t fully appreciate her appearance yet. She looked good, her dark dress pants tight in all the right places, her blazer hugging her shoulders, even if she didn’t intend it, her outfit was having an effect on you.

“You’re a tease.” She says, watching you again like prey as you walk over to the sink.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.” You say, putting soap on your hands. “I’m not doing anything.” You give her an innocent smile through the mirror.

Sick of your behavior Jessie comes up behind you, her front flush to your back, pushing you slightly into the countertop. Her hands find your sides, just under your armpits. “You did this.” She lets her hands run down your sides and over the curve of your hips. “You chose this dress, you chose to tell me that you want me to take it off, you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“And it’s working?” You give her a cocky smile as you move away from her grasp to dry your hands and turn the water off.

“God, yes it’s working, you already get me worked up in regular clothes, but then this dress…” her voice trails off as she again takes the time to look over your body, head to toe, appreciating your dress. She bites her lip momentarily, walking up to you again. She leans into you, putting her lips quickly to your neck, giving you a soft kiss, then another just below your ear before she brings her lips to your ear and whispers. “You're driving me insane. I wish I had just ignored the call and fucked you instead the other day.”

You hum in agreement, you also wished she had just fucked you then and there. “But this is more fun.” You give her a raise of your eyebrows.

“You’re coming home with me.” She says as she leans back from you, still only inches from each other.

“I will, if you can be good the rest of the night.” You were going to give in and let her take you home no matter what, but you wanted to keep your evening of teasing and fun going for a little bit longer.

“I’ve been good!” She protests.

“I dunno Jessie, hand under the table isn’t what I would consider behaving.” You let your own hand drag on her thigh, mimicking her touch from earlier. You can feel her push her thigh into your hand desperately.

“I could’ve done worse.”

Returning her teasing from earlier you lean into her now, placing an open mouth kiss to her neck before whispering into her ear. “Behave for the rest of the night and I’ll let you do your worst to me later.”

You watch Jessie’s mouth fall open slightly as you pull back. Her stare intensifies on you, pupils wide. Knowing she was lost in her own dirty thoughts you take the opportunity to step away from her and open the bathroom door.

You turn back to look at Jessie, her mouth still agape, eyes locked on you. “Come on, only a few more hours of this banquet and then you can make those dirty thoughts you just had about me a reality.”

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