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sundrop-writes · 8 months

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The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary:

While undercover inside the Separatarian Sect, you and Spencer realize something important: you can’t live without each other.

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Fake Dating. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 4, Episode 3.

Word Count: 8,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: Lots of spoilers for the canon episode - so if you haven’t watched Season 4 of Criminal Minds yet, steer clear of this fic for now (especially because watching the episode provides some context for this fic/makes things make more sense); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is not pregnant during the fic and there’s no smut, but due to discussions in the fic, it’s not unreasonable that she could get pregnant); fake dating in the form of a fake marriage - the reader and Spencer pretend to be married under the Christian religion to ‘appeal’ to Cyrus; because of the fake marriage, Spencer uses the term 'my wife’ to refer to the reader; lots of mentions of religion (Christianity), religious extremism, mentions of pedophilia/child brides (in line with the canon episode); mentions of systemic sexism and gender roles enforced by cultures of organised religion and religious extremism; use of y/n and l/n (in this case meaning 'your last name’); the reader pretends to follow the Christian religion while undercover but I never stated if she believes in a less extreme version of these things or not (the reader’s true religious beliefs are never stated); protective!Spencer, possessive!Spencer; mentions of Spencer being taller than the reader (which, again, I think he would be taller than most people) - the reader’s body/body type is not described in any other way; mentions of guns and gun violence (not described in deep detail) - in line with the canon episode; the reader and Spencer fear for their lives; dangerous/live-threatening situations; the reader and Spencer are threatened with a gun; Cyrus is just generally creepy and sexist toward the reader; Spencer is pistol-whipped and the reader is threatened with sexual assault (it does not happen, Spencer protects her); mentions of pregnancy/the reader being pregnant (she is not pregnant during the course of the fic); mentions of the reader being a mother/having kids (Spencer makes up fake kids to sell their fake marriage story); the reader realizes she might actually want to be a mother because of Spencer’s fake kids story; mentions of an explosion (as in the canon); love confessions; angst with a happy ending. Hopefully that is everything.

A/N: The title for this fic comes from a Fall Out Boy song of the same name. The theme/lyrics of the song don’t really fit the fic, but I love the way that this title fits - how everyone in this fic is lying in some way but Spencer is someone with good intentions while lying. Making him the Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes. I love how it fits. I wrote this while suffering with heat exhaustion so idk if it’s good or even makes sense. I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn’t 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff, and I am too tired to rewrite the whole fic to make it align with the episode. So uh - alternative canon? But I really love the basic concepts and I do really love how it turned out. I hope you guys like it too!

...

You thought it would be an easy day.

Maybe that was foolish on your part. So far, you hadn’t seen a single ‘easy’ day while working with the BAU. Between chasing down scumbags and then reliving every single gory detail while doing the paperwork - none of it was ‘easy’. It was worthy, accomplished work - making the world a safer place to live in. (At least that’s what you told yourself.) But it was never easy.

There was always someone who made the job easier. Someone who made you smile every single day - especially on days when you didn’t think you were even capable of feeling a tiny shred of joy. Someone who made you feel safe, who you always felt had your back no matter what. So you were glad that he was by your side today, along for the ride.

“Tell us about Cyrus.” Reid prompted.

He looked to the woman driving, your new companion for the day - Nancy Lunde, someone who worked with the state department and had set up the interviews with the children at the Separatarian Sect.

“Benjamin Cyrus. No criminal record. In fact, there’s no record of the guy at all.” Nancy explained.

“That’s odd.” You commented. “Usually someone being accused of something like this would have some past offenses. Especially because it would give him a reason to move into isolation to continue the criminal pattern of behavior.”

“Well, I couldn’t find anything on him.” Nancy shrugged.

“What about the 9-1-1 call?” You asked.

“A fifteen year old girl called in saying that a man was ‘laying with her’ and claimed it as ‘God’s will’. I believe the ‘he’ referred to is Cyrus.” Nancy explained. “The age fits with Jessica Evanson, but I’ve managed to negotiate interviews with all the children, just to be sure. It wasn’t easy.”

“They’re incredibly weary of outsiders.” You commented. “Our boss warned you not to identify us as FBI, right?”

Nancy nodded. “I got you some spare credentials, just in case.”

She took one of her hands off the wheel and reached into her pocket.

“You’re going to be using your real names. You’re going in as Child Victim Interview Experts working with Child Protective Services. No association with the FBI.” Nancy explained, handing Reid your fake credentials.

He nodded, inspecting the IDs before handing you yours where you were sitting in the backseat.

“Oh, before I forget.” You noted, reaching into the pocket of your cardigan. “The rings.”

You pulled out a small plastic bag that Hotch had given to you before you left. It was a bag containing a fake diamond ring in your size and a fake golden ‘wedding’ band for Spencer.

Reid reached over the seat to grab his ring from you, and Nancy gave the two of you an odd look.

“Rings?” She questioned.

“Fake wedding bands.” You explained.

“It was our Unit Chief’s idea.” Reid added on. “He believes that presenting us as a ‘godly’ married couple to Cyrus will make him more likely to open up to us. He’s less likely to see us as hostile outsiders if he believes that we share a similar system of beliefs.”

“It could also have a calming effect on the teenagers we have to interview or the kids there who have had more time to go through indoctrination at the Sect.” You continued to explain. “Even if their parents are hesitant to let the kids speak with us, they may be more willing to have their child speak with us or even leave them alone with us if they believe that we’re fellow Christians, rather than hostile atheists there to poison their children’s minds.”

Reid nodded at you through the rearview mirror.

“Make sure you put on the left hand.” He told you. “That’s the position for marriage.”

You nodded at this.

You placed the ring in the appropriate position, and you couldn’t help but to take a moment and stare at it. It was jarring to have a wedding ring on - especially with the thought that it represented you being married to Spencer. But you supposed, of all the people to call your husband, he would be one of the best. He was honest, intelligent, kind, and… if you were pressed, you would definitely say he was handsome.

But you couldn’t get too caught up thinking about all of that. Because it wasn’t real. It was a false projection you were wearing for the benefit of a self inflated sociopath.

Spencer liked the feeling of the ring. He didn’t take too long to stare at it after he had put it on, because he knew his mind would wander if he did. When Hotch had first proposed the idea of the two of you pretending to be married, Spencer had almost tripped over himself to oppose it - mostly because he didn’t think that he would be able to handle simply pretending to be your husband for the day. It was just too cruel.

Having something he wanted so badly dangled right in front of him and knowing that it was all just a farce - it bothered him, but he delighted in the play nonetheless.

When he caught the fake gold glinting in the light, Spencer had to remind himself that it was fake - that you would just be playing his wife for the day. He had to push back any internal glee that he felt at the idea that he got to be ‘taken’ by you while wearing that ring. It wasn’t real. It was just for the day.

“Isn’t that deceptive?” Nancy asked. “Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?”

“He won’t find out.” You replied confidently. “And besides, we use deception in interrogations all the time. It’s a very basic tactic: align yourself with the suspect. Make them think you share the same beliefs, that you’re on their side.”

Reid grinned at this. He always loved it when you spoke so confidently.

…

“We’re looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.” Nancy announced as the three of you got out of the car.

“Then you’ve found him.” Cyrus announced confidently.

He was pretty much what you had expected him to be - dressed informally, slouched over, faking meekness, holding a bible near his chest as though it were a shield. He had planted himself there purposefully, wanting to be the first person to interact with the outsiders as three of you came into the Ranch.

You hovered back near Spencer, letting Nancy make the first introduction.

“I’m Nancy Lunde.” She said, giving a small nod toward the man. “We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.”

“‘Savages they call us, because our manners differ from theirs.’” Cyrus rhymed off a quote, obviously positioning himself and his group as martyrs being attacked for having ‘different ways’ that the world simply didn’t understand.

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.” Nancy reminded him, hoping to keep the religious zealot on track.

“Actually, it’s Benjamin Franklin.” Reid corrected her, talking about the quote.

That did surprise you, but you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head. It was just one of the many amazing things about him - his perfect memory and his ability to use it.

Of course, him saying this immediately drew Cyrus’ attention toward the two of you. So Spencer stepped up to introduce you.

“Hello, I’m Spencer Reid, and this is my wife, Y/N L/N.” He said motioning toward himself and then to you as he introduced the two of you. Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system. Almost as if you had been waiting forever to hear him say those words and hadn’t even known it yourself. “We’re Child Victim Interview Experts, here on behalf of Child Protective Services.”

Of course, you couldn’t get too caught up in deciphering how those words made you feel, because you had to focus on the task at hand. The job that you were here to do.

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’.” Cyrus said, his tone even, quiet.

You knew that covertly, it was his way of saying that the two of you didn’t belong there, because he ran the Ranch with God’s word, so nobody had actually been harmed (in his opinion). He believed that he had done nothing wrong. Obviously, he thought your time and resources were better spent with ‘actual’ victims who didn’t have his power wielded over their lives.

“I can assure you, Mr. Cyrus, we try to bring God into our work.” You told him, trying to appeal to him. “The children we visit usually need prayer and God’s light the most.”

Spencer gave you a sideways glance, clearly holding back a grin at how thick you were pouring it on - how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with.

“Well, I can assure you that a lack of prayer and God’s light is certainly not an issue for the children here.” Cyrus said, giving you a clever little grin. He thought that you would simply interview the children, praise him for what a good job he had done, and then leave. “You can go and see the children whenever you like. They are up at the school, as I indicated in our phone call.”

Nancy walked toward the school, and you paused before you followed.

Before you walked off, you looked to Spencer. In a completely silent conversation that only worked so well because the two of you had been in so many tense situations before, thinking around UnSubs and planning miles around them before they could even know it, he gave you a small nod and you instantly knew what it meant. He had established a small bit of trust with Cyrus, so he would stick back and see what else he could get out of the man.

You nodded back, and then - completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek. You were just playing the part, you told yourself. It’s not that it felt entirely instinctive to say goodbye to him with some kind of affection, like the many hugs you had given him before. It’s not that you felt so entirely scrutinized with Cryus’ piercing eyes on you, and you needed the anchor of Spencer’s touch.

You were just playing the part.

Spencer tried not to get caught on being kissed on the cheek like he was some blushing virgin, and instead, focused his attention back on Cyrus instead of watching you walk away. (Even though every single one of his instincts told him that he needed to keep a more careful eye on you because you both had to leave your guns in the car.)

He took a step closer to where Cyrus was leaning on the concrete, and easily picked a topic of conversation.

“Solar panels.” Reid said, motioning to the large devices sitting behind Cyrus on the grass.

“Yes.” Cyrus nodded. “We’re completely self-sufficient here. Food, electricity, water. Benjamin Franklin said ‘God helps those who help themselves’.” He explained. “You look surprised.”

“No, uh, impressed, actually.” Reid easily lied, trying to appeal to his ego.

“Thank you.” Cyrus said. “Most men wouldn’t admit that.”

“Well, I suppose that I’m not like most men.” Reid shrugged in return.

“How long have you been married?” Cyrus asked, motioning toward Reid’s ‘wedding ring’.

Reid panicked slightly, knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride to Colorado so that your answers to these simple questions wouldn’t be different. But he just made up an answer and hoped that nobody else would ask you the same question and find out the deception.

“Three years.” He said. “I’ve been very blessed.”

He used the language purposefully, knowing that the simple phrase could get him on Cyrus’ good side. That, and he hoped it would draw the attention away from any possible signs of his blatant lie.

“Your wife is very beautiful.” Cyrus commented.

He gave a wicked smirk as he said this. It was a simple, fairly ‘innocent’ comment, but it was immediately off-putting to Spencer. It took everything in his body not to glare daggers at Cyrus or throw out some protective comment in return. He could only imagine what was going through Cyrus’ mind as he thought about you, and he hated even imagining it.

Reid knew that it was a basic logical good, the instinct to protect you because you were his partner on this case and he was supposed to have your back. But it was also something more. Something in every fiber of his being that screamed you were his and no man should ever be thinking of you that way except for him.

“Has it been a godly union?”

He was lucky when Cyrus spoke again and distracted him from his mounting rage.

“We try to be as godly as we can be.” Spencer took the simple, diplomatic answer.

“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” Cyrus pointed out.

Nancy had used your name on your false credentials because Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before. There hadn’t been time to inform her about it and have ‘Reid’ put on your ID as your ‘married’ name. So he had introduced you by your name to keep everything consistent with the reuse.

It did make Spencer wonder if you would keep your last name if the two of you ever did get married. It made him almost dizzy, thinking about you as ‘Mrs Reid’. Thinking about your kids having his name. Or your name, if that’s what you wanted.

But naturally, he pushed past all those thoughts and formed an excuse.

“Typically, married women aren’t very well perceived in our line of work.” He quickly excused. “She doesn’t even get to wear her ring that often. She couldn’t change her name on paperwork at our office because a working married woman… it’s heavily frowned upon.”

“Well, I’d have to agree.” Cyrus grunted. “A woman shouldn’t be out working. A woman should be at home raising a family.”

“I - I suppose you’re right.” Reid agreed through gritted teeth.

He walked away toward the school before he got too angry again.

…

A few hours later, everything had gone to hell.

Some authority - the police, the military, you didn’t even know - had charged into the Ranch shooting. In response, Cyrus and his followers had come into the school toting large semi-automatics asking you and Spencer if you knew about a raid.

You didn’t. You wish you had known about a raid. You would have warned Hotch and gotten them to call it off. You certainly would not have been there while it was happening.

When they had pointed those guns in your face and forced you into the tunnels - it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then. Cowering in the bunker, confused and scared, you flung your arms around his waist almost instinctively, and he buried his nose in the top of your hair as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like a shield, promising you that everything was going to be okay.

Whispered to you like that, coming from him - it was almost easier to believe. Even with the chaos going on around you and the fear pumping through you in response.

Nancy had run off trying to get them to surrender and did not come back. You had a feeling that you knew what that meant.

And now, with the kids from the school ‘evacuated’ into the church, you were being held in the cellar at gunpoint. They had forcefully separated you and Spencer, making you sit in chairs at opposite sides of the room.

Spencer was fidgeting. His eyes kept flickering from the door, to you, to the man standing beside you holding the very large gun.

You knew that you had ugly tear tracks down your face, and oddly enough - you wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms. As you were forced to sit there, just a few feet across the room away from him - you ached for it.

There was a very large possibility that you were going to die today. And you selfishly needed the comfort of being in the arms of someone familiar - someone safe. Someone you knew would never hurt you. Someone who had made you laugh with dumb science jokes and puns for the last five years that you had worked together with him.

When Cyrus charged back into the room with two men flanking his sides, you and Spencer stiffened up once again.

“God will forgive me for what I’m about to do.” Cyrus announced to the room, presenting a handgun from his belt.

Your insides quaked, and Spencer’s eyes grew wide.

You couldn’t contain the fearful whimper that erupted from the back of your throat when he raised that gun and placed it near the middle of Spencer’s forehead. You clasped a hand tightly over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in protest, knowing that would only make things worse.

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” Cyrus asked firmly.

Which ‘one’?

So he knew that you were undercover, that you had lied about your job titles - but he thought that only one of you had done so. Where the hell was he getting his information?

“I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer told him quietly, looking him in the eye the entire time.

You hoped that his stutter could be passed off as nervousness from the gun being pointed in his face, and wouldn’t be pointed to as deception.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus pressed.

“We are not FBI Agents.” Spencer said, more confidently this time. “We are Child Victim Interview Experts. We were only sent here to ensure the wellbeing of the children. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Well, that last part wasn’t a lie.

“You’re lying.” Cyrus told him, entirely confident in this. “God expells those who lie, devils in sheep’s clothing.”

There was a tense moment, and then Cyrus cocked the gun.

Spencer didn’t flinch. You resisted the urge to scream.

“Proverbs 12:22 says: ‘The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in those who tell the truth.’” Cyrus said, actually citing scripture this time.

He was giving Spencer one last chance to tell the truth. As if using the bible verse to say that his punishment would be lesser if he simply told the truth now.

Spencer didn’t take the bait.

“I’m not lying.” Spencer said firmly. “What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent? This is the woman I wake up next to every single morning, the woman I go to sleep next to every single night, we work together every single day, we-”

Cyrus interrupted Spencer’s ranting with a sharp hit to the face, pistol whipping him across the cheek.

This caused Spencer to go flying off the chair, and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry. It took everything in you not to jump out of your own chair and rush to Spencer where he had collapsed onto the ground, clutching his cheek.

“Someone is going to tell me the truth.” Cyrus said gruffly.

“It must have been Nancy!” You said, the idea finally popping into your head.

You seemed to be more clever with the pressure of Spencer’s life being threatened. Cyrus stared you down, turning his attention fully toward you now. You caught Spencer’s eye for a moment and he gave you a small nod - as if to say ‘yes, keep going with that’.

“The woman we came in with! Nancy!” You reasoned, continuing to point the finger at the woman you had to assume was dead. “We - we just met her today. Our boss introduced us to her, but we had never met before that. If she was FBI, we had no clue. We swear.”

Cyrus turned to you then, and tightly pressed the barrel of his gun into your forehead. You could feel the imprint of it so tight in your skin that it hurt, and you could only lean away so far before threatening to knock the chair backwards.

“It’s very convenient to pin this crime on someone who isn’t here.” He grunted at you.

“It’s the truth.” You sniffled out quietly.

“Hmm.” Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, and then, much to your surprise, he removed the gun barrel from your forehead.

You barely had a moment to breathe in relief before he began skimming the gun down your neck, touching the metal whisper-gentle across your bare skin - clearly taunting you. It was something that made your whole body stiff with alarm, and caused Spencer’s eyes to go wide once again.

“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” Cyrus said, teasing the gun along the buttons at the front of your cardigan.

You held back a sob at the thought of it - at the idea that he could make you do almost anything for the fear of you being shot. Truthfully, you were more afraid of what he might do to Spencer if you didn’t comply, but it was all the same in your mind now. His life was just as valuable as yours, and you would do whatever it took to protect him.

Before Cyrus could take these threats any further, a heroic voice intervened.

“That’s enough!” Spencer yelled.

He gathered himself off the floor and oddly enough, none of the men moved to stop him as he came to stand beside Cyrus. Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat. Perhaps it was because Cyrus didn’t bark any orders at them to stop him. He was entirely unflinching, keeping his focus on you and keeping his gun held between your breasts as Spencer crowded into his personal space, trying to press himself between you and the awful man.

“We’ve told you everything that we know.” Spencer told him lowly, his voice heaving with well controlled anger. It was something that you had rarely ever heard from him.

Cyrus kept his eyes locked on you, so Spencer continued.

“We don’t know anything about the FBI - we have a simple job advocating for children who have been abused. That is it. We came here to investigate a most likely false claim against someone in your community and we truly didn’t mean to get caught up in all of this.” He said firmly, clearly trying to appeal to Cyrus. “So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.”

Spencer’s voice was dark, so thick with rage. More pent up rage than you had ever heard from him when he was talking to any suspect, people who had done the worst of the worst. Something about Cyrus threatening you had truly boiled his insides.

The way he said the words ‘my wife’ - growling it out like he was a feral animal and this threat to you had activated every single one of his protective instincts. Hearing it made something inside of you yearn for him on such a deep level that you didn’t know was possible. You wanted to feel that kind of protection cast over you every single day. It made you feel invincible, having Spencer watch over you like that.

Cyrus lowered the gun then, and Spencer grabbed your arm as you dissolved into hysterical tears. Instinctively, he lifted you up into his arms. You thought that you heard Cyrus mumble out ‘my apologies’ as he left the room - but he was barely on your radar. Your entire world became narrowed down to nothing but Spencer, your safety net as he built a wall of protection around you.

He used his height to block you from seeing anything but him, letting you push your face into his chest as you cried. He wrapped you in his arms once again, letting you feel truly safe for a few moments as you sobbed into the fabric of his sweater. Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him - needing to ensure that he didn’t leave you.

“Hey, shh. Shh. It’s okay.” He said, leaving gentle kisses on the top of your forehead and your hair, rubbing across your back with one hand, comforting you in the only way he could in those moments. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Of course, he wanted to break down too. But he had to be strong for you.

“Spencer,” You called his name in an utterly wounded voice, pulling away from his chest to look up at him.

When you saw his injury up close - a sharp, purple-red bruise that was blooming across his cheek, it looked so utterly painful. Your insides ached at the thought that he had taken a blow for you. You hated to imagine what more they could have done to him if they had not believed your lies.

You instinctively reached a hand up to touch it and he caught your fingers halfway, instead, gently grasping your hand and laying it on his chest. The intimacy felt so oddly rehearsed - so worn in, so ‘normal’. It felt like you had been married to Spencer for years. Like it wasn’t a play at all.

Your two souls had been calling out to each other for years, just waiting for the dam to break. But you couldn’t quite put it into words - not like that.

“It’s okay.” He said quietly, knowing you were horrified by the injury.

He was so gentle, so comforting, so calm. Everything the men pointing guns at you were not. Unlike Cyrus - Spencer Reid was a true blessing from God.

You couldn’t hold yourself back then.

You surged up and kissed him, fully embracing his mouth with yours in a kiss. Though it was so sudden, it was something he easily returned. The kiss so full of urgency, so needy, so passionate. Like he was trying to tell you that it was okay, that he would protect you no matter what.

He would protect you because you belonged to him.

In those moments, the two of you were basically alone. One of Cryus’ men was guarding the door, watching on boredly. But Cyrus was off in the church, funneling people in to prepare for his ‘loyalty’ test. It didn’t matter if he saw you kissing or not - it wouldn’t have sold the reuse of you being married any better.

This was just for the two of you. This was comfort.

When you pulled back from the kiss, Spencer looked stunned, almost as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. You didn’t give him time to question it.

“Thank you.” You said quietly.

It was twofold:

Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for giving me comfort.

Spencer didn’t have too much time to marinate in the meaning of the kiss before Cyrus’ men came back and fetched the two of you, wanting you to observe the loyalty test.

…

After the mock poisoning (which Spencer figured out rather quickly, making you admire his cleverness once again), Cyrus kept you and Spencer in the church with a few of his closest, most loyal followers while all of the low level followers dispersed back to their homes.

You and Spencer were lingering in the back quietly while Cyrus was on the other end of the room, talking to his men about how to proceed. The plans for their ‘final stand’.

“We need to get some kind of signal to the others.” Spencer whispered quietly. “Maybe they’ll take pity on you and let you go if-” He swallowed sharply, cutting himself off abruptly. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to voice whatever was on his mind.

“If what?” You probed. You wondered what the hell you could possibly be thinking.

“If we tell them that you’re pregnant.” He said, whispering so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words.

You rolled your eyes sharply at this.

You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle.

(In those moments, clouded by fear, you couldn’t see it for what it truly was - Spencer blatantly revealing his unconscious desires to have a baby with you.)

“We could convince them to release you. As a show of good faith. A pregnancy would be good leverage in that. You know how religious people are about fetuses-” Spencer reasoned.

“Yeah, and what if they give me a test?” You probed, punching a large hole in his logic. “We don’t know what kind of infirmary they have here. They obviously believe in modern technology. What if they want to give me an ultrasound to check on the fetus after the stress of the day? To prove that they did no harm to the precious unborn child,”

Spencer was easily caught on this point. If they examined you and found that you weren’t pregnant, all the lies would fall apart.

“Well… what if we tell them that you have a baby at home that you need to get back to?” Spencer reasoned, jumping to the next logical conclusion in his mind. “It’ll likely garner the same level of pity.”

“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” You whispered back sharply. Spencer rolled his eyes this time. But he didn’t redact the plan as unreasonable, so you continued on. “Okay, what do I even do when I get out there? I’m not gonna be of any use to the tactical team. We don’t know what Cyrus’ final play is yet.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear to be separated from Spencer. Knowing that he was inside, potentially being beaten up more, potentially being shot and bleeding out from a wound without you knowing - it would kill you with stress. You need to be by his side. You needed to know that he was okay.

“Has God blessed your union with any children?” Cyrus appeared behind you suddenly.

You wondered if he had heard you say the word ‘pregnancy’ or if this was just a random topic that had come up in his mind.

His sudden appearance behind you caused you to whip around and crowd into the comfort of Spencer’s arms again because you were frightened. Naturally, Spencer wrapped his sheltering touch around your shoulders. Your back was gently pressed into Spencer’s front, his arm shielding you protectively as it was wrapped around your chest, holding you with his hand on one of your shoulders, unconsciously stroking his thumb across the fabric of your cardigan. The position had you both facing Cyrus, watching the fan in an offensive way.

And of course, Spencer didn’t miss a beat.

“Yes.” Spencer answered easily. “We have two kids at home. A boy and a girl. Iris and Hugo. Iris is almost three years old and Hugo is eleven months. His first birthday is coming up in June.”

You knew that Spencer could be very good at talking off a suspect’s ear under pressure, but when you heard him rattle off these ‘facts’ so easily, it hit you.

This wasn’t simply statistics or physiological knowledge - this was a very elaborate backstory for your supposedly real marriage. Perhaps he had thought about all of it on the car ride up (which was odd not to share it with you, in case Cyrus asked you a similar question and your answer didn’t match up with Spencer’s).

But if you weren’t mistaken, this wasn’t simply a backstory for your fake marriage during the undercover mission. This was a fantasy of his. Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children - kids he had dreamed up in his head and wanted to be real.

Your heart ached at the thought of it. You found yourself missing a set of children that weren’t even real. (And distantly, wanting to jump his bones to make it a reality.)

“Tell me, Mr. Reid, would you find it so shameful for your daughter to marry young?” Cyrus asked.

You found it odd to hear Cyrus call Spencer ‘Mr. Reid’, but you realized that he hadn’t introduced himself as ‘Doctor’ in this setting. You held your tongue when you felt the need to correct him as you had so many other people, wanting Spencer to receive his proper title.

Your mind almost couldn’t focus on the question that Cyrus had asked. Of course, he was trying to get Spencer to stroke his ego once again. Basically admitting that the whole reason the two of you had come here was true - he was being vastly inappropriate with a young member of the church, and getting away with it. And he saw nothing wrong with it.

And he was trying to get an outsider to admit that he saw nothing wrong with it too.

When there was a moment of silence - Reid obviously torn on how to answer the question, Cyrus continued.

“Is there really something so wrong with a blooming young woman marrying a man who will protect her under God’s laws?” He probed, his voice so entirely confident. Clearly confident that he was right.

“Well, I’m not sure if I would let my daughter get married so young.” Reid said, finally speaking up. “I just know that I would want her to marry a man that would protect her, and be the best possible fit for her. Someone who would cherish her and be good to her no matter what.”

His answer made you swoon. You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head - dizzyingly, you were imagining him walking your imaginary daughter down the aisle before you had even gotten married yourself.

Maybe it was being so close to death, being threatened in such dangerous territory that was causing your life to accelerate at light speed in your mind. If you were going to lose everything, you might as well enjoy the escapism of a fake life with a beautiful man in your mind instead of being stuck on the heart pounding terror of being held hostage, right?

Surprisingly, his words drew a smile from Cyrus.

“You’re a protective father, aren’t you?” Cyrus asked.

“Of course.” Reid confirmed.

“I can always admire that in a man.” Cyrus nodded. “A man should always pride himself on protecting his family.”

There was another moment of pause, and you were hoping that the topic had been dropped completely.

“Do you have a picture of your children with you?” Cyrus asked.

You wondered if - in a different version of reality, where you and Spencer really were married, where Hugo and Iris really did exist - if you had a picture of them in your pocket, would Cyrus only be asking this so he could use the picture to taunt the two of you? What other purpose would he have for knowing what your children looked like?

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered. “I keep my family pictures on my desk. In my office. We - we’ve just been praying to get back to them safely.”

Cyrus seemed perturbed at you mentioning that you had an office. Something dark flickered over his features for a moment and then disappeared.

“Well… if it is right, God will grant you that safe passage.” Cyrus said.

Just when you truly thought the conversation was done, he said something to you that entirely grinded under your skin.

“I find it entirely odd that a mother of two young children spends her days working a job where she takes care of other people’s children, rather than staying at home with her own youngins where she belongs.”

He said, using that same entirely confident, righteous tone that he always did. Even though you were not really a working mother, you had a hard time not boiling with anger at the sexism ripe in his statement.

“How much must you be missing of your sweet angels lives to instead partake in the horrors of devils you shouldn’t have to witness.”

Of course.

You had a hard time not rolling your eyes at this or saying something harsh that would set him off. Instead, you reached up to Spencer’s arm around your shoulder, squeezing his fingers, trying to keep your patience.

“I’ll have you know that Y/N is an amazing mother.” Spencer piped up, knowing that Cyrus respected him enough as a man that he wouldn’t beat him simply for speaking up. “Her nurturing and caring makes her infinitely better at her job.”

Again, you knew that there was so much personal truth in Spencer’s words. He thought that you would make an amazing mother to his children - at least theoretically. He was entirely firm in that conviction. And he thought that your natural caring made you amazing at the job you did as a Profiler. He knew this from the quality of work he witnessed you doing every single day.

You didn’t know it - but it was just one of the many things that had caused him to fall in love with you.

Oddly enough, Cyrus’ words prodded at something deep inside of you. It made you imagine a life for yourself where you weren’t spending your days witnessing horrors from unspeakable devils - but instead, at home, looking out for Spencer’s imaginary children.

You would have said it was the fear of the day, clouding your mind. But maybe it was the clarity of being so close to death that made you realize what - and who - you truly wanted out of life.

…

Hours later, after some of the hostages had been released (the ‘non-believers’ who had failed the loyalty test), Cyrus had requested that some food be sent up. Spencer gave you a sharp look when he saw the message written on one of the takeout lids.

The team would be storming in to end the hold-out at 3am. You had to somehow ensure the safety of the hostages by then.

Obviously, the fake pregnancy idea was still warping through Spencer’s mind, but you had come up with some much better.

“Cyrus,” You called out his name gently, getting his attention. “You said that you have a nursery here?”

It had come up, during his long winded bragging about how perfect the Ranch was. Something about how mothers didn’t have to raise their children alone. The children were raised as more of a ‘group effort’ and women took ‘shifts’ in the nursery, allowing the women to rest or get chores done in the interim.

“Yes, we do.” He nodded.

Spencer stared at you with his jaw set, wondering what you were doing but not daring to speak.

“I - I’ve been missing my children dearly. I was wondering if I could go to your nursery and see if they need any help? It would do my soul good to be around young ones right now. After all the commotion of these days.” You spoke meekly, trying to play the part of the shaken up, dainty woman well.

Which was too difficult, seeing as you were playing up the fear you had already experienced.

He grinned. It was a rather menacing smile, and you tried your hardest not to show any further fear, or disgust.

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” He nodded. “Christopher, why don’t you escort her down to the nursery and then come back? We need you here for our final preparations.”

You were finally falling to those gender roles that he had been pushing on you since you had arrived. He didn’t suspect a thing. He simply thought that you were a God fearing woman falling to your natural womanly instincts, needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die.

Spencer rose from his seat and Cyrus stopped him.

“Just your wife.” He said, putting a hand in front of Spencer’s chest to stop him. “There are still some things you and I need to discuss. Man to man.”

You went over to Spencer and didn’t hesitate to plant a kiss firmly on his mouth, which he returned with vigor. This one lasted only a moment - it was something precious for the two of you. You didn’t need to put on some pointed show for the men in the room.

“It’s okay.” You told Spencer quietly, brushing your fingers gently over his uninjured cheek.

You could tell that he was dying to ask you what your plan was. But he kept the words trapped in his throat, unable to speak in front of the many temperamental villains lurking about.

“Come on.” Christopher grunted.

Spencer gave you a longing look as you left. He didn’t want to think it, but as he watched your figure retreat out the door, he feared that it would be the last time he ever saw you.

…

Your plan worked flawlessly.

Getting to the nursery meant that you had unsupervised access to the women and children, especially away from Cyrus’ prying ears. Because you were a ‘delicate’ woman, nobody suspected you of having ulterior motives. You easily found a crack in Kathy, Jessica’s mother. You spotted her as the one who had made the original 9-1-1 call, wanting to get her daughter away from Cyrus. You convinced her to help you get everyone out, and you felt intense relief when you were met with a familiar face in the cellar as everyone escaped through the tunnels.

“Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you, glancing behind your shoulder as if waiting for him to appear.

“He’s still up at the church.” You told him. “I had to separate off to help get the women and children out-”

“Go on, we have to get you out!” Morgan urged, trying to gently usher you along.

“We have to go get Reid!” You argued, trying to turn around.

“Go, go on, I’ll go get Reid!” He told you.

You were about to argue back, but you were cut off by a scuffle behind you.

Jessica was yelling about Cyrus - how her mother had betrayed her, tricked her.

Morgan pushed Kathy toward you and ran off screaming for Jessica. You took Kathy’s arm, gently convincing her that everything was going to be okay as you guided her the rest of the way out. You had to focus on this, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay. You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out - that they were both going to be okay.

When you got outside, you were hyper focused on marching away, taking a path away from the church as directed by the officers in charge. You froze in your tracks when you heard it - an earth shattering boom. The ground beneath your feet shook. You felt a puff of hot air swell to touch your back.

You let go of Kathy’s arm and whipped around, and you couldn’t even pay attention to where she went. You almost thought you heard her weeping, but your mind couldn’t process it as your eyes were glossed in bright orange flame.

It was the church.

“Spencer?” You gasped quietly. “Spencer!”

You couldn’t help it, but you began to run toward it. Your feet carried you faster than you could think, and before you got more than a few feet across the ground, you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm.

“L/N!”

Hotch’s voice, sounding far too distant for the position he held right behind you, viciously gripping onto you as you fought against him, trying to get toward the fire - trying to get to Spencer.

“Hey! Hey! Stop it!” Hotch tried to order you around, tried to get you to stand down.

He got a hand around your waist, and you continued to kick like a wild horse, fighting against his grip as hot tears poured down your face.

“He’s in there!” You sobbed. “Spencer is still in there.”

“Calm. Down.” Hotch ordered sharply.

You collapsed back into him sobbing, all of the fight leaving your muscles at once. You couldn’t fake the reality in front of you.

“You running in there and getting hurt isn’t going to change anything.” Hotch told you quietly, a somehow distant murmur into your ear.

Through the blur of your tears and the sharp orange glow, you saw the shape of two bodies. You heard coughing as someone emerged from the blast, hobbling down the stairs at the front of the church. You forced your eyes open wider, trying to see who it was, and then:

“Y/N!” Spencer called out your name gruffly through the smoke he had inhaled, and you easily shucked off Hotch’s grip to race up the stairs to get to him.

He was leaning on Morgan for support and you were worried that he was hurt. But the moment you were close enough, he tore himself away from Morgan and the two of you met in the middle. In a pattern that was easily developing, you fell into the safety of his arms, holding him tight enough to bruise him - never wanting to let go.

“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?”

You sobbed out, gripping both sides of his face, staring into his eyes, needing the recognition that he was right there, right in front of you.

He stared back with glassiness - intense fear, adrenaline, and something small that told you he was thankful for you, and needed you now more than ever.

Of course, your words were simple anger at the situation, not at Spencer himself. The terror of thinking that he was dead still pumping through your veins, causing you to shake.

“I know.” He said quietly. “I love you.”

His voice wrapped around the words so tenderly - it was the most sincere declaration you had ever heard from him. As if to say ‘I know how much that scared you. I know what this ordeal has done to us and I only meant it more because of how scared I am’.

“I love you too.” The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt. You took a moment to recover, entirely shocked by your own lips. And then, you only found the need to say it growing more inside of you. “Spencer, I love you.”

You pulled him toward you with the grip you had on his face, and he easily met you in one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced.

It was no longer a show, it was no longer about displaying the fake marriage for someone else’s benefit - if it had ever been about that in the first place. It was about the two of you. It was about feeling that comfort, that safety. It was about the fact that your two souls were drawn together since the day you had met. The fact that you had always felt safe with each other. You had always been the other person’s shelter from the storm.

And you poured every ounce of those feelings into that kiss.

You combed your fingers through Spencer’s hair, taking a harsh grip on the back of it, holding him there so he couldn’t pull away from your lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your sweater. Both of you entirely refused to come up for oxygen, not even caring who saw the epically passionate, public display of your love for each other.

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan and Hotch exchanged a look with raised brows as it happened. You and Spencer didn’t care. You were barely perceiving the world around you as the two of you kissed.

“You know if you’re not careful, people are actually gonna think you two are married.” Morgan said, being his usual sarcastic self.

Rather than pulling away from Spencer’s lips to sass him back - you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder.

On the ride home, JJ handed Derek five dollars. He had the over/under that the two of you would get together before the end of the year. JJ said that it wouldn’t happen for another five years, at least. Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea.

When Emily and JJ relayed the story to Penelope, she squealed so loudly into the phone that JJ dropped it.

Hotch pulled you aside later and warned you that the fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them. He also recommended that you and Spencer put in the paperwork with HR if you were ‘serious’ about the relationship. You knew that it was him wishing the two of you his best.

A few days later when you came into work and found the HR request for an update of relationship status sitting on your desk, already signed by Spencer, you couldn’t help but to smile.

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, so there will not be a continuation or a sequel to it. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that I have written, rather than asking me to write 'more'. If you want to see more things that I have written about Spencer, feel free to check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist.

#sundrop writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic

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mclennonlgbt · 6 months

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(JUST LIKE) STARTING OVER WAS DEFINITELY FOR PAUL – a compilation

A meaningful wordplay As you know, John attached great importance to the lyrics of his songs. He liked to smuggle in word games and hidden meanings. Let's look at a fragment of the lyrics of "(Just Like) Starting Over". It's time to spread our wings and fly Wings was Paul's band in the 1970s.

Don't let another day go by

"Another Day" is a song by Paul and Linda that was released as the A-side of a non-album single in February 1971. It was Paul's debut single, following the Beatles break-up in 1970. (Sidenote: giving credits to both himself and Linda, Paul broke up the Lennon-McCartney partnership, angering Allen Klein).

my love

"My Love" is a 1973 song by Wings. The single was viewed as Wings' first significant success.

2. The demos

In the first demo, John uses the word "walrus":

Everyday we used to make it love so why can’t we be making love – it’s easy. The time has come, the walrus said, for you and me to stay in bed again, it’ll be just like starting over

The walrus is a famous motif from Beatles songs. In the song "I Am The Walrus" (1967) John declares that he is the titular walrus, a year later in "Glass Onion" he stated: „And here’s another clue to you all – the walrus was Paul”. In "God" (1970) John sings: "I was the walrus." In an interview from 1969 or 1970, George jokes: „And if you are listening, I am the walrus too”. Regardless of which Beatles was the walrus, John is for sure giving us an interesting clue here.

As for „in bed”:

Here's another fascinating demo... This requires no comment. It's just that John suddenly referred to "Why Don't We Do it In the Road", a song by Paul from the Beatles era.

EDIT:

The whole fragment is:

Just take your clothes off honey, and stick your nose in money.. why don’t we… do it in the road?! (Laughs) A little hotel where we used to screw A little place down in Montauk Just you, me, the cook and the servants too

As @i-am-the-oyster pointed out (the screen is theirs) - it's a 17 minute drive from Paul's house in the Hamptons to Montauk Motel.

3. John explaining who the song is for

„I’m not aiming, I am not aiming at 16 year olds. If they can dig it, please dig it. But when I was singing and writing this and working with her, I was visualizing all the people of my age group from the 60s. Being in their 30s and 40s now, just like me, and having wives and children and having gone through everything together, I am singing to them! I hope the young kids like it as well, but I’m really talking to the people that grew up with me and saying: „Here I am now, how are you? How’s your relationship going? Did you get through it all? Wasn’t the 70s a drag? You know, here we are, let’s try and make the 80s good, you know, because it’s still up to us to make what we can of it. It’s not out of our control”. I still believe in love, peace. I still believe in positive thinking when I can do it. I’m not always positive but when I am, I try and project it”.

Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rqxPx2Tvf6A

Let’s point out that the song which convinced John to come out of retirement was „Coming up” by Paul. You want a love to last forever One that will never fade away I want to help you with your problem Stick around, I say

(…)

You want some peace and understanding So everybody can be free I know that we can get together We can make it, stick with me

BONUS (this is not evidence or premise, but maybe Paul understood that the song was addressed to him): Paul's reaction to the song after John's death.

„…Time passed. Paul locked the door of his home studio and played (Just Like) Starting Over, the first single from Double Fantasy. Top volume. For days”.

- Christopher Sandford, „McCartney”

EDIT:

(it's also @i-am-the-oyster's reveal): One Sweet Dream podcast did an interview where May Pang agreed with the host (JL)SO was for Paul and emphasised that it wasn't about Yoko -- it's a patrons-only episode so I can't link it, but it's April 2023, around the 1h29 mark).

I would take it with a grain of salt, though, because May (for valid reasons) dislikes Yoko.

As @paul-mccartney-official noticed, the stripped down mix of this song begins with:

When they were teenagers, John and Paul identified with their musical idols: John was Buddy Holly and Paul was Little Richard or Elvis.

This is Lennon talking about his and McCartney's meeting at Village Woolton fete:

It is possible that John refers to his youthful years in this dedication. However, there is also an option that he mentioned his former idols, because "(Just like) starting over" musically refers to the 1950s. It depends on you what you believe in.

#mclennon #paul mccartney #john lennon #mclennon tinted song analysis #double fantasy

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kuwdora · 3 months

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A Vidding Primer

A guide written for @wren-of-the-woods who asked for advice about how to start vidding! This is far from comprehensive and I tried not to make it too dense because it's a big subject. I still wanted to share a variety of topics about getting into vidding because it's a hobby and art that is near and dear to my heart.

First Piece of Advice

watch a lot of vids and rewatch vids multiple times. Seek out vids on YouTube, AO3, Watch the TikTok and Twitter/X vids that show up on tumblr or wherever you’re browsing. They all have distinct styles and tools/techniques they use to make their vids and edits. Rewatch the vids and ask yourself what you like or dislike about them. The song, the editing, the source. That can give you a good starting point about how you might want to approach making your own fanvids. The TikTok style of 30 and 40 second edits are very different what you find on YouTube. YouTube editors tend to use a full song and a lot more effects and a lot more overlapping dialogue. Whereas the fanvids - Vids - from people who came into vidding in the mid 2000s/2010s have their own culture, different ways they approach song choice, clip choices and narrative. I also suggest watching vids for shows/films you’re not familiar with as well as your fandom favorites. You can learn a lot about how vidders try to tell a story even when you might not grasp the context behind certain scenes but you can still follow along with the emotional arc of the vid.

Second Piece of Advice

Have fun and enjoy yourself. Everyone starts a new hobby as a newbie. It can be a lot of effort to make 30 seconds or a 3 minute vid, but it’s such a unique type of fanwork that is fun to watch and fun to make. It can also be migraine inducing because of all the learning and technical issues along the way. But!! omg when you make a clip fall on the perfect beat with your blorbo crying that perfect tear or you find an idea and sources for the bestest perfect lyrics of the song, it’s a magnificent high. It can make you feel like a god. At least that’s how I feel a lot of times!

There are about 10 steps* to creating** a fanvid/edit:

• select your platform and software (phone/computer video editors) • gather your video and audio files • create a new project in your video editor • import audio into the editor • import the video into the software and mute audio tracks that contain your video’s audio • review, label and cut up the video into shorter clips - this step is known as ‘clipping’ in vidding parlance, but it’s also optional. Some people pull in movies and scrub through the whole film and just pull it directly onto the timeline • move the various video clips around on the timeline to match the audio track you’ve chosen for your project, add video effects and additional dialogue if you like • export the finished timeline • upload the video to a streaming platform and/or downloadable service • share your project!!! posting to ao3 and/or social media or share on discord, etc * there are a lot more steps involved with each of these steps. What what software to use, where to find video, how to deal with copyright blocks on Youtube, etc. Some of that will be covered in the links below but is not comprehensive. That would require separate posts and links and I don’t want to drop an encyclopedia on you right now! I’m happy to provide more resources that I can curate if you want more direction and pointers to resources and amazing vidders.

** like any hobby, there can and will be a learning curve and frustrations. Blank page for a writer, blank timeline for a vidder. Is anything you put down is any good, self esteem and confusion about what actually makes sense is part and parcel for any creative work. Once you're in the vidding process and committed, as long as you're enjoying yourself you gotta just keep going to get it done.

Getting Started Vidding

My knowledge and background and learning how to vid from people on livejournal and dreamwidth from 2007. I don’t have any experience in editing with a phone but if that’s something you’re interested in, YouTube will be a place for you to start finding tutorials for various apps and tools. Probably discord communities, too. Vidding Workshop - a great how-to/guide when you're starting out. This is on dreamwidth from the WisCon vidparty in 2014. Some of the tech discussions might be a little outdated but there’s a ton of relevant information. It covers technical subjects as well as developing vid ideas and actually getting started. If you have any questions about what you’re reading you can leave an anonymous comment and ask - some of these vidders responding inthe threads are still active. You can find them on AO3/YouTube, tumblr, discord and actually leave them questions about their vids. Many vidders are more than thrilled to talk about their vids and answer questions. Vexcercises - this is a dreamwidth community for short-form vid excercises. This is a very structured way of introducing vid concepts and constraints so that you can produce a vidlet. I highly recommend you check this out and participate! There’s even an AO3 collection so you can check out how people have done the different exercises, too.

The Process of Vidding

Watch Me Edit - @limblogs put together a fantastic playlist of YouTube editors who will show you beginning to end how they made their vid. A lot of these editors appear to be using Sony Vegas but the general process of vidding end-to-end will be similar with other nonlinear editors like DaVinci Resolve, Premiere, etc. It’s a great way to actually see the vid come together if you don’t know what that even looks like. Every vidder will develop their own workflow and approach (which might even change from vid to vid), but it’s useful to see in video how people actually DO the thing. @limblogs also created a handy YouTube playlist some vidders from Bradcpu’s Vidder Profiles (Fanlore page). These profiles are basically like a director’s DVD commentary on their vidding process, featuring the vidders talking over their own vids! So cool. Phenomnal insights from these vidders about how they choose song, use effects, think about their narratives.

Self Rec: I recently did a vidding textpost series called: do it for the process - a naked vid draft: What (Yennefer of Vengerberg). How I Edit by @vimesbootstheory is another textpost about their vidding process. Self rec: Here’s my text interview: Vidder Profile - Kuwdora 2011. I talk about my process with a lot of specific examples from my previous work and lots of screenshots. This profile is over a decade old but a lot of this still holds true for me today! videlicet - this is an incredible vidding zine that @limblogs put togegther with a lot of amazing contributors. These articles and discuss about specific vids and aspects of vidding. It’s really detailed and a fantastic piece of vidding culture. I highly reading recommend the Demystifying Vidding article by lim and the A History of Vidding by @meeedeee and…pretty much every article in the zine!

Doing the vidding!

I recommend joining exchanges and watching vids that come out of exchanges and checking out fannish cons that have vidshows and discords to get more exposure to vidders and vids. Many people have joined @festivids (AO3 collection here) and made their very first vid, it's a very fun and great way to get into vidding. It’s not quite festivids season right now but time flies and it will be time to nominate sources and do sign-ups in the blink of an eye. Follow @festivids and check out the AO3 collection and see what people are making. Join the Vexcercises community and make some short vids and share them on your tumblr or on discord or somewhere and bask in the thrill of making your first fanvids. Check out who reblogged the vidder ask game - go and read other vidders responses and ask some new-to-you vidders questions. Everyone has their own take on process and tech and everything. It's great to hear and see what a lot people are doing and making.

Final Advice - talking about vids and doing the vidding

• watch vids • rewatch vids • leave a comment and ask a question about something you saw in their vid! • Again: find someone’s AO3 page of fanvids and ask them something about their vid in a comment or send them asks on tumblr (people usually have the same alias or link to their tumblr or dreamwidth pages somewhere.) • YouTube can be a valuable resource for tutorials so if you don't know something, there is likely someone who has made a tutorial about how to use a cross dissolve transition or anything else you might want to replicate in a video that you've seen in a vid. • start making a vid, scream and cry, ask for help, and keep going until you get it done. Celebrate and bask in your completed vid and share it with everyone! • Follow vidders on tumblr that you find from the vidder ask game • Check out the vidding discord for community and questions and vid recs and news about vidding exchanges and cons. • Have fun!

Hope this helps you get started! Thank you so much for the ask! Let me know if you have more questions and I can help you out or send you to cool vidders who have great advice and suggestions. And please send me your vid if you make one!

#there's so much to cover about vidding so i know i'm missing things but i wanted to have a basic+ primer here to start with #i'll be throwing this guide up on ao3 soon as well and creating a series/collection of vidding meta #viddingdora #vidding #the vidding process #answerdora #askdora #textpost #vidding resource #fandom resource #cool resource #fan edit

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changenameno · 2 months

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Fingerblast PART 2

(Complete, link for the first part, down below ⬇️)

Summary:

It’s the middle of summer and therefore incredibly hot. Of course right then something had to be wrong with your AC. How fortunate for you that a handyman can come right over…

Pairing: Syverson x Short Fem. Reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, cursing, explicit description of sex, thirst trap named Sy, teasing, size kink, chasing?, choking (if you squint?), p in v (use of y/n = Your first name)

Word count: 3K

A/N: Okay here goes my first attempt at writing smut…This is way longer than I intended it to become, whoops. Honestly this just came to me while stumbling over a song (aka the title of this specific fic 🤣). Also I think this reads a little like a bad porn video SORRY…but anyway….here goes nothing🙈😅….

It’s not proofread, any mistakes are my own. Please be kind, comments/reblogs are very appreciated…Thank you❤️✨

!Syverson is not my own creation (unfortunately)! And the song/lyrics don’t belong to me either!

🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑

(In case you’ve missed PART 1)

PART 2

Sy was caught off guard but only for a second, then he set his body into motion. Like a raging bull he chased you up the stairs, not even three steps behind you. Hearing his thundering footsteps approaching and fast, you squealed.

You turned to your left, throwing your bedroom door open, darting into the room without stopping. Sy was right at your heels, bulldozing into the room so close behind that he simply tackled you onto the huge bed. Making you fall, face first into the soft mattress, which smothered your surprised shriek. His body covered you wholly, making you feel even smaller underneath his massive frame. Lying there and trying to catch your breath, you swore you felt him harden against you.

Well truth be told he finally had you where he so desperately wanted you.

Reluctantly he let you up enough, so you could turn around, now facing his bearded face which had carnal hunger written all over it. “Caught you…Now, what am I gonna’ do with you darlin’?”

Seizing the opportunity you grabbed his head and pressed your lips against his. Sy reciprocated immediately, grabbing your hips and pushing you up and against him. Hissing into the kiss once you crossed your ankles behind his back, gently rocking your hips. He let go of you, in favour of crawling on all fours up onto the bed; so he could lie his whole body down comfortably, while you clung to him.

Sy let your back slowly down onto the mattress, whereas you were still rubbing your drenched centre against his cargo shorts, surely leaving a wet spot. Only now coming up for air from the heated kiss you two were sharing, you breathed,” Fu-uck, please Sy I need you. Mmmh,” ending on a mewl, because he decided to rut against you right then. The unexpected pressure, stimulating your clit just like you needed it.

“Right with ya…” he rumbled. Without further ado, he took a hold of your flimsy dress and pulled it off, over your head, throwing it onto the floor.

Now his big sweaty body was towering over you, making you feel all small vulnerable, wearing only your white bra and matching panties.

That changed, as Sy’s lips attacked your neck at once, making his way down to the valley of your heaving breasts, all the while his beard scratched your soft skin in the best ways. Struggling to lay still, you squirmed at every kiss he pressed against your own sweat drenched skin.

You felt divine under his rough fingertips as he grabbed your lush thighs, opening your legs wider, so he could continue kissing down your body. Naturally you let your legs fall open, uncrossing your ankles, and digging your fingers into the bedspread. Sy stopped when he reached the waistband of your panties, both his hands splayed over your rib cage, fingertips lightly grazing your breasts beneath your bra.

Liking over his lips while resting his bearded chin on your stomach he looked up, where your eyes met. As blown out as his pupils were at the moment, you could only see a small ring of his normally bright blue eyes. “You look beautiful,” he rasped. Smiling down at him, you sat up slightly so you could gently run your hand over his head then down to cup his chin. “Mmh I’d say the same, but I can only see your handsome face so far,” you answered just as affectionately.

Sy understood you right away, almost falling off the bed, in his hurry to get undressed. Somehow he still managed not to.

Back on the bed, only wearing his briefs, you admired his bare, hairy chest pulling him down for another heated kiss. His body hair, lightly scratching over your smooth skin, ensured that you felt every inch of him even more intensely.

Moaning into his mouth, as his tongue invaded yours and began to explore you thoroughly. Breaking the kiss to demand what your aching centre needed most. “Please, just…need you.”

“Bet you’re soaking wet for me, aren’t ya? Wanna have a taste first.” Shaking your head no, he looked at you expectedly, when you didn’t elaborate he continued, “Darlin’ use your words, what do you want?”

“I…just…I need you now. Next time you can…you know,” stumbling over your own words already, even though he hadn’t done much yet, was an enormous boost for his ego.

He thoroughly enjoyed making you squirm, so he smirked, “Next time I can what?”

It was your turn to glare at the amused man kneeling between your legs. Impatiently you snarled, “For fuck’s sakes, if you don’t get to it, right now…I promise that you’ll never get a taste!”

Sy’s smirk only widened in response, then he suddenly pulled you down by your ankles, until you lay on your back. “Still gotta prepare you though.” With one swift movement he yanked your ruined panties down and off your legs. Making you mewl at the sudden air hitting your bare heat. He looked down, hungrily staring at your sopping folds. “On second thought, you don’t need much preparing, do ya? Could probably slide right in.”

Feeling a little embarrassed at how turned on you had become, you tried hiding your face in the pillow. “Ah none of that darlin’. Wanna see your face, when I make you come.” His hand gently turned your face towards his, smiling softly down at you. “That’s right, eyes on me, y/n.”

Sy didn’t let you protest any further, as one thick finger slowly dipped between your folds. Running down to your clenching, dripping hole. Without warning he pushed two of his fingers inside, stretching you deliciously and making you bow your back, gasping. “Nnhg…”

“That’s a good girl. Takin’ my fingers so well.” To ease a bit of the tension in his own briefs he tried adjusting the tent within. Exhaling heavily when you clamped down on his fingers, hard. You couldn’t help it, having caught a glimpse of his huge tent. Well huge was still somehow an understatement, but you trusted that Sy knew what he was doing.

He cupped your pussy and at the same time spread his thick fingers, stretching you carefully. Making you chase the friction of his palm against your little pearl. He started moving his fingers in and out of you, though at the slowest pace know to men. In an attempt to get him to go faster, you bucked against his rough hand, trying to spur him on. “Please, need more. Please Sy.”

For the first time today, he quit his teasing and plunged a third finger in, moving them a lot quicker than previously. He had you moaning in no time, falling apart on his fingers. Sy managed to hit that special spot dead on, every time his fingers stretched your warm canal. “Yeah right there. Right there, don’t stop….” You felt it, your release was just around the corner, starting to tremble. Just as you were ready to see stars, the hand between your legs disappeared.

Your eyes snapped open, enraged that your orgasm had been stolen from you, you sat up, “What…no…why I was nearly there!?”

That smug fucker just sat back on his heels, sucking his fingers into his mouth and liking your juices off. The obscene slurping sounds he made while he enjoyed tasting you, had your insides feeling like liquid lava.

Deliberately slow he pulled his fingers back out, wiping them on the bedspread, staring you down with his sapphire blue orbs. Mirth and lust equally displayed within those same eyes, “Delicious. Also I ain’t let you come, unless it’s on my cock, understood?”

Too stunned to answer you gaped down, as his cock twitched within his briefs. Instantly a hand grabbed your neck, pushing you back down onto the mattress.

Startled by the sudden roughness, both your hands wrapped around the muscles of his sturdy forearm, looking up at him. Sy rumbled, “Do you understand?” His deep thundering voice paired with the hand lightly choking you, made you repeatedly squeeze around nothing. Craving his touch all the more, now that he wasn’t going to use his fingers to get you off.

“Yes. Yes I understand.” His hand let go, as did your hands, letting them relax next to your head. He was rather pleased with your response, so he let his enormous paw wander behind your back, nimbly opening your bra and getting rid of your last barrier.

Not being able to hold back any longer he took off his own briefs, throwing them on the ground as well. You looked absolutely breath-taking, lying completely bare before him, innocently looking up. Then your eyes fell down, gasping at the erect thickness between his thighs. Sy smiled proudly, promptly beginning to slide his own hand up and down his shaft. Where at the tip a drop pre-cum had already formed.

You watched and whimpered, “Please, please…”, wanting nothing more than to have is cock stretching you to your limit.

Not wanting to wait any longer himself he climbed between your legs. Cock in hand he tapped it lightly on your swollen clit, reducing you to nothing more than a squirming, whining mess.

Then he finally had mercy on you, brushing over your drenched opening once, twice and then he dipped inside. Holding your breath, as he fed inch by inch of his monstrosity into your tight little cunt.

“So fu-ucking tight.” He pressed through his teeth, hands digging into your sides to hold you in place and to make moving forward easier. Sy wasn’t even halfway in and you already felt incredibly stuffed. Every nook and cranny was filled up.

Apparently the last bit of his patience had run out, because he tilted his hips back and trusted forward with such force he sheathed himself to the hilt. You whimpered, arms now slung around his torso and fingernails digging into his back, making him grunt in return.

“Sh-shh that’s it, nice deep breaths darlin’, you’re takin’ me so well.” Closing your eyes, you tried concentrating on his soothing words and the gentle motion of his hands running up and down your sides, to prevent becoming overwhelmed by the fullness.

At last your pussy began pulsing, little by little growing accustomed to the way he stretched you so ridiculous far apart.

Sy noted your face slowly relaxing under his ministrations, but he’d wait until you gave him the go, and only then would he move.

When you thought it didn’t feel like he was splitting you in half anymore, you opened your eyes. He was looking at you intensely, blue eyes seemingly melting as his right hand reached up, caressing your cheek. “Are you alright? We can stop if it’s too much,” he whispered leaning down, to be yet closer to you, meaning every word he just uttered.

Your hands glided up, over his shoulder blades and to his head, pushing him down further so you could kiss him again. This time it was a slow sensual kiss, without haste just feeling the other’s lips and moving in tandem. Once you separated from each other, you whispered back, “I’m fine…and don’t you dare stop now, when I conquered your mighty beast.” His dark chuckle send vibrations down to where you were intimately connected, making you sheer crazy with need.

“Well then let’s see if you truly conquered it, shall we darlin’?” Sy snatched you up, gripping your behind and pressing you impossibly closer to his body. You crossed your ankles behind his back anew, holding on for dear life as that bear of a man pulled all the way out just to ram back into your tight, hot tunnel. And just as you thought he couldn’t go any deeper.

He repeated that powerful motion again and again. Resounding groans breaking free from his mouth while yours gaped open, letting whine after whine escape you.

Sy nuzzled your neck, making you hear and feel every one of his delicious grunts and lewd comments. You weren’t even able to respond, let alone string more than two words together at the moment.

He repeatedly fucked his massive cock inside your pussy, keeping his pace like a sledgehammer. “That’s right, made for my cock, darlin’.”

You just needed a little push and then you’d undoubtedly fall over the edge. As if he could read your mind, the hand that wasn’t grabbing your rear, smoothly slid between your dripping bodies.

As soon as his hand reached its destination, rubbing circles over your clit, the band within you instantly snapped. Gushing around him, your legs shaking, clamping down on Sy’s cock. “Aaah fuck, that’s it Darlin’, come for me.” His grip on your ass, turned near bruising, slowly but surely losing his pace and rhythm.

Wanting to get him off, just as hard as he had you; you clenched your slightly oversensitive cunt and purred into his ear,” Yeah, so deep, please… come inside me.”

“Fuck…”, that did him in and with one last stroke, you could feel his seed filling you up. His body all taunt for a second before he relaxed. Sy kissed the side of your neck, as the last bit of his cum entered you. He let out a deep sigh,” You were…that was…,” struggling to find his words, he lifted you off of his cock. Continuing to muzzle your neck and placing soft kisses on your skin. Now lying outstretch on your back, you could feel his seed spilling down your pussy, making you shiver slightly.

“Mmmh yeah that was amazing, I agree.” You answered his unfinished sentence, a smile creeping onto your face.

Eyes closed, you felt the mattress dip as Sy moved off the bed. You heard the tap running, when he returned, you opened your eyes. He’d a washcloth in hand, tilting his head in question. Nodding at him, he carefully brought the cool cloth between your legs, cleaning you and removing your conjoined fluids. Once he was done, he sat it down on the nightstand to be put away later.

“Love, could ya scoot over a little?” Worn out, you rolled sluggishly to lay on your right side, still just as naked as him. The mattress dipped again, as Sy snuggled up behind you, spooning you with his overheated body.

“So how’d ya like it?”

Turning slightly in his arms, to look at the smug expression he wore on his face, you mumbled,” Mmh well, I was a bit sceptical at first. But you? Roleplaying as my handyman, was fun I must admit.”

“Told ya,” he pressed another kiss against your temple as he carried on,” doesn’t have to be anything crazy but roleplaying can be fun from time to time.”

You turned back around just enjoying the closeness of your husband’s body pressed against yours. “Mmh.”

It had been his idea to try something a little bit more elaborate in bed for your anniversary. His best friends had actually kind of encouraged him with this, which was why you were so reluctant to try, at first. As you said, at first you’d been very sceptical but you couldn’t really say no to Sy, so you promised to try something on your special day. The little details he poured in to make it feel even more real, astounded you.

Thinking about it, the red pickup truck sprung back in the forefront of your consciousness. “Wait, one question…that red pickup, whose is that?”

You felt him chuckle, “Ah, that. Yeah I might have borrowed it from Walt.”

“What? Walter? Like in Walter Marshall?”, you were so dumbfounded that the detective, out of all his friends would drive such a car, that you turned around in Sy’s arms, to check if he was joking.

“Yeah.”

“What do you mean yeah? It’s red, as far as I know he’d never…”, he interrupted you, “Ah that, yeah, he made a mistake orderin’ it or somethin’.”

Sy moved his arm, so you could lie your head down comfortably on his bloated biceps.

“Okay, well at least that makes sense. More than him intentionally picking out a red car anyway.” You settled back, eyes closed, satisfied with how your special day hand gone so far.

Until one more burning question popped up and you reopen your eyes. Tilting your head back to take in Sy’s relaxed face, having closed his eyes as well. “That song? You know the one that played when you got out of the car?” Apparently amused by your line of questioning, his lips turned up into a smile. Without opening his eyes, he mumbled back, “Yeah what about it?”

“I never heard a song as crude as that? And I never heard you play it, ever?”

One of his flaming blue eyes blinked at you, light crinkles forming around it as he smiled still,” Don’t wanna rat anyone out. But ya know, August sent it to me today and I thought I’d give it a try.”

It was your turn to snigger,” Of course, who else. Do you only have lewd guy friends?”, ending your question on a snort.

That had Sy open his other eye as well, both showing his clear amusement,” Well, ya know, you’re the one that married me, darlin’. What does that say ‘bout you?”

Making you laugh,” True. Also I think life would be a lot more boring, without our knuckle-headed friends.”

“Sure thing.”

After a short pause, he put his other arm around you, pulling you into a more comfortable embrace, “I love you, darlin’.”

Completely content, you let your tired eyes fall shut, whispering back,” I love you, too.”

🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑

Taglist:

If you're interested in being on my taglist, please let me know! And if you want to be taken off (my taglist), feel free to tell me! ❤️✨

#henry cavill #captain syverson #x reader #sand castle #fanfic

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causenessus · 2 months

Text

try again

part 0.075. PROLOGUE

“she feels a little childish, sometimes, thinking about him like this. like she’s still a kid; thinking of people as friends and best friends. but it’s what he was. he was her best friend, and she would always consider him as such, ‘til the very end. she will refer to him as her “old best friend” for as long as she lives. it will be her answer whenever someone asks what she's thinking about, because he is always there, inside her head. she will think of him fondly, despite the fact that he left, because she can't bring herself to be angry or upset with him; she only misses him. she has her headphones over her ears, tuning out the rest of the world as she walks to work. and then she sees him on a screen and ends up stopping. he will be in her head, always. because he was her other half. without him, she is not whole. she never will be. never again.”

there are three types of people that will enter your life.

there are the kind of people who are like leaves; they will come into your life for a season, but they are not there to stay. they will take what they need and when it starts to get cold, they will disappear, leaving you all

all

alone.

again.

the second kind of people are the branch people. they are stronger than leaves, but they may still break on you. you may be walking along a thin line, with them as your only support–the only way you'll make it across to the other side when suddenly–

snap!

you’re falling.

falling

left all alone at the bottom

again.

lastly, there are the root people. roots give life to everything above. they’re hidden below the ground, not always recognized for what they do, yet they don’t ask to be seen. not even the branches and the leaves realize how important the roots are. they are on the surface, and they think that they're the reason for their own survival and success; they're the ones taking in the sun's rays and stealing from others whatever else they need to satisfy their superficial needs. but in reality, without their roots, even the branches and leaves will break, fall, and disappear. sometimes not even you will realize how important a root is in your life, until they stay with you when it matters the most. when everyone else has left,

they don’t disappear.

and they don’t break on you.

they stay.

time and time.

again.

and she’s still not sure what kind of person he is. she’s spent countless nights thinking about it. when the ache in her heart hurts too much, and she's flipping her pillow onto the other side, hoping a cool side against her face will clear her head, and allow her to sleep, numbing her from everything else. but it never works, because all she can think about is how much she misses him. she tries to think about what she did wrong, if maybe it was something about the way she looked, that he didn't want to be seen hanging around her, or if she was just too much. because she wants to believe he was more than just a leaf or a branch. she sees him on magazines and over her twitter all day, which doesn't help. she can only stare at his face and ask the question silently, "what are you? what were you to me?"

did he take what he need and leave?

did he stay for a little while, but break from her when it got too difficult?

or was he a root? still out there somewhere, still having an impact? for some forsaken reason, she continued to hope and believe he was a root. she would never consider herself an optimist, yet it was like every day she went out, hoping that maybe she’d trip over a root, and he’d be there to catch her.

and they’d try again.

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

working a little backwards!! thank u to ree who supported this decision <3

song reccs this smau will be in the form of small little excerpts, once we get going they'll be much more?? regular in a way?? and easier to understand? but we're not there yet </3 so in this little excerpt, the song is linked within the paragraph and the lyrics are referenced throughout it in green if that makes sense <3

it's an ugly green!! but it's itachiyama's green except desaturated and a little darker and just think of it as a plant stem kind of green too :) go plants!!!

this whole kind of poem thing is heavily based off of something originally said by wilmer l todd. i found it on instagram <3

intros will be out next and probably soon! i just wrote this last night and decided if it was ready to go ahead and post it :)

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @glmge @heytheredemonsss @bemebiu @daszy @kakeru-eem @mollyrolls @snail-squasher @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @hyenagoated @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @0moonii @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru

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novaeverse · 18 days

Text

Saved and Unsaved By A Mad Love

Song Lyrics: “Be Nice To Me” by The Front Bottoms

Okay so. Hehe.

This drawing took me so long, and MAN was it a journey. I don’t normally do these “monochromatic” drawings. But it was a lot of fun.

(Except for Astarion’s arm. That was hell to do and I don’t think I’ll ever be fully happy with it but ITS FINE)

This is for the lovely @kawareo !! If you haven’t check it out yet, he’s got this fantastic bg3 campaign fanfic on ao3 called Godsbound (will link later when ao3 is up). I really hope you like this one Ramsay! I know it’s different from the first fanart, but >_< I’m rly happy with it <33

Ramblings about some details:

Strike is digging his nails into Astarion and Astarion is pulling harshly on Strike’s hair. But they’re smiling about it in a bittersweet way. They care for each other, and they will hurt each other because of it. Forever will they be intertwined, stuck in a painful embrace.

Astarion is the only one in the light because he’s the only one who remembers their shared past. And he will continue to block it from Strike until the shadows creep back, and Strike can see.

It’s colorless because I like being dramatic >:)

I’ve never really done drawings with a whole lot of meaning behind it, but I tried with this one! I’m not a writer LMAO

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 durge #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate #astarion #durge #durgestarion #oc strike #my art

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therealcocoshady · 4 months

Text

Recovery - Chapter 38

Synopsis : Reader listen to the leaked track in which Em mentions her.

Tags : angst

You stared at Marshall for a couple of seconds, in complete and utter disbelief. He seemed terrified. You had seen this look more often that you liked to admit. The very look that said he was guilty of something he definitely wasn’t proud of. You had first seen it the you fount out about him sending armed guys to threaten the rapper who had referred to you in a diss track, when he had admitted to threatening Josh, when you overheard Tracy mentioning blowing him in London… He stared at you, nervously biting his lip, not saying a word.

- Is it true ? You asked. Did-did you really name-drop me on a track ?

- I… It wasn’t supposed to be heard, he said. By anyone. Ever.

- What track is it ?

- Doesn’t matter, he said. Babe, I swear to God, it doesn’t matter. I… I have to call my team. We need to get that shit removed.

- You really are stupid, aren’t you ?! Jamal asked with a sardonic laugh. It dropped last night. It’s been listened to millions of times, reposted everywhere.

- I want to listen to it, you said.

- No you don’t, they both said at the same time.

- If my name is mentioned on a stupid track, I deserve to know ! You argued.

- Babe, please don’t, Marshall pleaded. Please.

- Don’t ‘Babe’ me, right now, you said. Jamal, give me your phone. I want to listen to it.

- Y/N, no… I hate to agree with this motherfucker, but… Don’t listen to this shit, Jamal said.

- That motherfucker’s still your boss, Marshall groaned. You better-

- Wait until I shove a drum machine up your ass, your friend shot back.

They stared at each other, looking as if they were about to hit each other. You didn’t care for either of their arguments. You didn’t need any of these grow men babying you and you deserved to listen to this damn song. You sighed and ran up the stairs to grab your phone. If the track had already gone viral, you’d find it pretty easily. As soon as you started to walk, they both followed you and tried to argue but you slammed the bedroom door in their faces and locked it behind you. You heard them yell at each other and sighed.

- Y/N, come back, Jamal said.

- Baby, open the door, please, Marshall asked.

You sighed and simply started to play the song. As soon as the first notes started playing, you heard complete silence. For an agonizing four minutes, you had to listen to your boyfriend, the man you loved, who said he’d always have your back, assassinate your character. You felt complete disgust, similar to the first time you had heard « Kim ». It wasn’t that the song was bad - on a technical and lyrical level, it was probably excellent - but knowing that these lyrics were about an actual person, about you, made you feel sick. He was describing nothing less than a torture scene, rapping about sequestering you in order to avoid a breakup, painting a scene in which he hurt you physically, going as far as impregnating you and making you abort with a butcher’s knife. The whole thing was horrendous and you thought you were about to faint when you heard your name, your actual name. It was impossible. It couldn’t be. This had to be some sort of nightmare. To make it worse, you had the urge to check the Internet’s reaction. Everyone seemed to be out there, celebrating « Eminem going back to his Shady era » or whatever that was. A few people seemed shocked but, in majority, fans seemed to be here for it. To add to the nightmare, people were linking the name in the song - yours - to the pictures that had leaked a year ago. The pictures of you in lingerie, that the Internet seemed to have forgotten - was back. It made you sick to your stomach. You felt vulnerable, like a prey. Your face, your name, your body were out there for people to make fun of. You were starting to feel dizzy so you laid on the bed, trying to breathe. You kept on listening to the song, hoping to hear another name than yours. Any other name. But each and every time, it was your name that came up. You heard the guys knock on the door, begging you to open. After a couple of minutes, you shakily opened, tears streaming down your face.

- I’m so sorry, Marshall said as he tried to pull you in his arms. Baby, I am so, so sorry…

- DO NOT TOUCH ME ! You screamed as you pushed him away.

- Baby, le-let’s talk, he begged. Please, Y/N. You have to know it-

- Tell me it’s a fake, you pleaded. Please tell me it’s AI or something.

- I’m so sorry, he said.

- Please tell me you didn’t write this, you continued. That you didn’t mention my name.

- Y/N, I- I didn’t mean to, I swear, he said.

- You didn’t mean what ?! You asked as you screamed. You didn’t mean to make a beat ? Didn’t mean to write the lyrics and then take the time to record the whole thing ?!?!?!

Your chest was heaving and you were full-on bowling. Marshall was standing in front of you, too close for comfort. He extended an arm to reach for you but you slapped his hand away as soon as he tried to touch you.

- Touch her again and I’m throwing you out the window, Jamal threatened.

- Fuck, Marshall said. Talk to me, Y/N. Please talk to me. Please look at me.

- I… I need to leave, you said.

You started running down the stairs and opened the door. You were in your pajamas, barefoot but at least you got some fresh air in your lungs. The skin on your face was burning, so were your eyes. You tried to focus on the air filling your lungs, trying to regain some composure. After a couple of minutes, you felt a had on your shoulder and immediately recognized Jamal’s.

- Hey sis, he said sheepishly. You holdin’ up ?

- I can’t believe he did this, you said. Have you heard that track ?!

- I have, he said. That’s why I came.

- That’s the most disgusting track I have ever heard, you replied. He… He fucking name-dropped me. And all these comments online…

- I know, Jamal said. I know.

- It’s vile. It’s disgusting. It’s… It can’t be true.

- I know, he simply repeated.

You started crying again and he engulfed you in a big bear hug. You had been hurt before, but no pain compared to this. You felt betrayed and humiliated. You kept on crying in Jamal’s arms, still not believing the man you loved had done this.

- Get in the car, Jamal said.

- Why ? Where are we going ? You asked.

- Home, he said. You really want to stay here ? With him ? After he did that ?

- I guess not, you shrugged. Wait… I have to take some clothes with me.

- Get in the car, I’m taking care of it, he said.

He opened the car and you sat in the passenger seat while he got back to the house. A few minutes later, you heard him come out of it, arguing with Marshall.

- Let me talk to her, he begged. I can explain.

- She doesn’t want to talk to you, man, your friend said. Leave her alone or I swear to God I will end you.

- Jamal, please, he pleaded. You know I would never hurt her. You know I love her.

- What I know is that you used one of my fucking beats to rap about torturing my fucking sister ! Jamal roared.

Your friend got in the car and drove you to his house, where Talia greeted you with a long hug. The three of you sat at the kitchen table and they encouraged you to eat some breakfast while you discussed the horrendous track.

MARSHALL’S POV

He didn’t hear of Y/N for a whole week. In the meantime, he heard from a lot of people, though. A few hours after she left the house in Jamal’s car, he got a phone call from Paul, who chastised him as if he were a teenager. The manager came to visit him and they sat in the living room, in order to work things out, on Paul’s insistence. As far as he was concerned, he only cared about Y/N and how he could get her to talk to him. As soon as he arrived, Paul examined his face.

- Did she hit you ?! He asked with a hint of surprise. Wouldn’t have thought she’d be this strong..

- Jamal did, he replied curtly.

- You might be lucky, then, Paul said. Is Y/N here ?

- Left with him, he mumbled.

- Never thought I’d say that, but I’m actually grateful she didn’t sign the NDA or put the addendum she talked about, Paul commented. Might have taken you to the cleaners…

- Paul, no offense, but I don’t give a fuck, Marshall said. My girlfriend left and won’t answer my calls. For all I care, she can take all of my money and full ownership of the label.

- Thank God It’s not happening, Paul groaned. I think we should talk about it, though. Because you seem to have set the Internet on fire.

- I don’t know what happened ! He finally snapped. We argued, I went to the basement studio and recorded that shit out of spite, because I was fucking pissed and scared after an argument. I have no fucking idea how this shit leaked !

- I’m sure we can find someone who can trace the leak, Paul said. But we have other issues. I have people calling me asking for statements from you. The Internet is truly ablaze. That’s some shock value right here.

- You say that as if it were a good thing, Marshall commented.

- If there’s someone who can make something good out of it, it’s you, the managed pointed out. It’s a leak but we might use it to our advantage. Slim Shady being back again. Maybe there’s an album concept…

- I don’t care about Shady, I want Y/N, Marshall roared. And I want the head of whoever leaked that shit ! I’m not using it to my advantage, I’m not promoting it and I’m not giving anyone a fucking statement !

They discussed for about an hour. Paul was a long-time friend and understanding of the situation. He knew more than anyone that Marshall was prone to using recording as a cathartic exercise and that some songs were not meant to be shared. In the past, they’d had to deal with leaks and, though each one had been a colossal pain in their asses, none was as bad as this one. Leaks were usually bad for business but, so far, none of them had destroyed his personal life. This one might as well do the trick, though. He had recorded it right after their argument, when Y/N would not speak to him and it was nothing but the result of his mind going to the darkest of places. Something shameful, using words to convey anger instead of sadness and fright. In a way, this was no different from the Kim track : him using violence on a track in order to express his obsession for the person he loved the most.

- So we agree, no statement ? Paul asked. No promotion ?

- If we put out anything, that should be a public apology to Y/N, Marshall said. I went on Twitter quickly… Have you seen that shit ?! Her picture, her name, they’re fucking everywhere and it’s my fault. I fucked up.

- At least, when you rapped about killing Kim, there was no social media, the manager agreed. Look, if that’s what you want, we can put a statement. I should warn you it might be pretty damaging, because a lot of people might not take kindly to you backtracking on something like this, but if you feel like we have to do this… We will.

- Really ? You’re not suggesting that we feed Y/N to the wolves ? Marshall asked sarcastically.

- I know I’ve been hard on you about your relationship with her, Paul said. But I also know that you usually put in your best work when she’s around. As your manager, I don’t think it would be strategic to publicly apologize to her. But as your friend, I want you to be happy. And I know she’s turned you into a better person. The whole team does.

- Thanks man, he replied.

They were interrupted by the noise of the front door opening. He quickly jumped from the couch, hoping to see Y/N coming home, and that he would finally be able to talk to her. Instead, he was met with Hailie’s angry gaze.

- Hay, he said. What are you doing here ?

- What do you think I’m doing here, Dad ? She asked. I’ve come to ask you for an explanation. Stevie and Alaina are on the way too.

- I take it that it’s about the track…? He asked.

- Of course it’s about the track ! She almost yelled. I can’t believe you did that !

- It’s a leak, he tried to explain. It wasn’t meant to come out or be heard by anyone. Ever.

- Still, she said. Y/N is a mess. She’s being harassed on social media, everyone’s coming for her…

- You talked to her ?! He asked.

- Yes, I called her, his daughter explained.

- She won’t take my calls, he said.

- Shocker, Dad, she said. Jesus, I wonder why she wouldn’t want to take a call from someone who recorded a song about torturing her…

- I know I fucked up, he said. I don’t know what to do…

- I can’t help you here, Dad, Hailie shrugged. She specifically told me she doesn’t want to speak to you.

He nodded. In the grand scheme of things, he could see why Y/N wouldn’t talk to him. Hell, if the shoe was on the other foot, he wouldn’t want to talk either. He looked at Paul, who was still sitting in the living room.

- I think we should put out that statement, he simply said.

- I’ll call the publicist right away and have him draft something, Paul replied.

- I want to approve it first, alright ?

- Of course, Paul said.

The manager said his goodbyes and promised to get back to him as soon as possible. Stevie and Alaina arrived and he was met with some sort of intervention which, really, was his three daughters chastising him. He wouldn’t expect them to support him blindly, they were old enough to have a mind of their own, but he was a bit shocked by the intensity of their reaction. Overall, there was a lot of screaming and shouting at him, pointing out how inappropriate the whole thing was.

- It was bad enough when you rapped about killing Mom, Alaina said. But Y/N is our age. You’re literally slandering someone who’s old enough to be our sister !

- I know, he said, but you girls know it’s just fiction, right ? I would never actually do these things. Half of my tracks are fictional.

- It’s not the issue, Dad ! Stevie argued. The issue is that she’s our age, being attacked by a grown ass man who could be her Dad. And that the fans are siding with him ! She didn’t ask for anything !

- I know, he said. Believe me, I know… I just… With everything that went down with your Mom, I have learned lessons, you know ? I never would have put out this track. I know how much it hurt her and I wouldn’t wish the same thing on Y/N. It wasn’t meant to be heard. It’s just me, taking things too far. Like a diary.

- Except that someone accessed that diary and leaked it, and now she’s paying the price, Hailie said.

- … Yeah, he said. I don’t know what to do.

It had been more than twelve hours since Y/N had left and he still hadn’t heard from her. And, as it was to be expected, neither Jamal nor Talia would pick up the phone either. He buried his face in his hands. He had fucked up, he knew it. But he was merely trying to let his anger out in the only way he knew how. The last thing he had wanted when he made that stupid track was for anyone to hear it, let alone enjoy it. Knowing that some fans were praising his writing on this one had nothing pleasant.

- Honestly, Dad, this is the most disgusting song you ever put out, Hailie continued.

- Agreed, he said. I don’t know what to do, girls. I don’t want to lose her. I know I deserve to, but I can’t.

After a couple of hours of discussion, his daughters ended up leaving. They were still clearly mad at him, just like everyone else seemed to be. The day after, he got a call from Dre. His mentor and friend sounded genuinely concerned. The leaked track was typically something he would have told him to shelf and never put out.

- You went too far with this one, Dre said. I’ve heard you go hard on some shit but that was… nasty.

- I know, Marshall replied. Believe me, I know… But it’s a leak, you know ?

- That’s what I heard, Dre replied. How is your girl doing ?

- I wish I knew, he said.

Dre wasn’t the only friend and collaborator who was concerned. Even Porter and Royce talked to him about the lyrics and how they went too far. He’d heard that so many times that he almost snapped at them but, really, he couldn’t really blame them. He was the only one to blame and he knew it. They also told him that Jamal was livid, threatening to come and destroy the entire studio, and they had to talk him out of it. His friends were disappointed in him, Y/N wouldn’t talk to him and even his daughters didn’t seem to want to be associated with him at the moment. It seemed like everything was falling apart. He was truly disgusted with himself. That’s when he decided to put out a statement, speaking in his own name. It was a rather short message, posted on his social media account, apologizing for the shocking lyrics, explaining that the track was not meant to be shared and calling for everyone to stop harassing his partner, whom he had made the mistake of name-dropping. He also apologized for using Jamal’s beat, stating that it was originally meant for another track whose release was postponed. He was not used to public apologies but this one might be overdue. And perhaps it would get Y/N to talk to him. However, in the following days, he still didn’t get any news from her. He tried to go to Talia and Jamal’s to talk to her but he was met with an angry Talia who refused to let him see his girlfriend and threatened to call the cops on him for harassment. He resorted to sending flowers and letters to Y/N, begging her to at least let him talk to her, even on the phone. One evening, almost a week after the track leaked, he got a call from Talia’s phone.

- Talia ? He asked. What’s up ? How is she ?

- It’s me, he heard Y/N say.

- Thank God, he said. How… How are you ?

- How would you expect me to feel… ?

- Right, he said. I’m… Thanks for calling me.

- You know, for someone who made fun of Josh for buying out every flower shop in town, you sure are filling the house with a lot of bouquets, she commented. I guess I’m calling because I’m afraid there won’t be any flowers left in Michigan by next week if we keep this going.

- Jewelers are next on the list, he said sarcastically.

- You know, you could spend all the money in the world, it wouldn’t make things better, Marshall, Y/N said.

- I know, he said. Believe me, I know. I guess I just wanted a chance to apologize, tell you what really happened. You have no idea how sorry I am.

- I believe I do, she said with a sarcastic laugh. Every one of the fifty bouquets you’ve sent contains a note saying how sorry you are.

- Can you come home ? He asked. So we can talk ?

- I would, but for one, I’d be afraid of being held up against my will and, two, Simon is coming over for diner tonight, she replied.

- Simon… Your ex, Simon ?! He asked.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #recovery fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine

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lookninjas · 8 months

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Anyway, pick a song based on one of my bad descriptions. You do not need to recognize any of these songs (although there are, as always, band names and random lyrics and breadcrumbs mixed in). Just pick whichever description sounds most appealing, or funniest, or anagrams out to something clever, or however you make your random decisions. At the end of the poll, I will put the songs into a playlist, from the song with the lowest number of votes to the song with the highest number of votes, and share the playlist (plus links to each individual song).

If you would like me to tag you when the playlist is done, leave a comment or put it in your reblog somewhere, and I’ll make sure to tag you. If you desperately want to know what one particular song is and don’t want to wait a week, shoot me an ask and I will answer.

And please reblog! More reblogs = more votes = a more interesting playlist.

#polls #music #bad song descriptions #also if you get the 'house of leaves' one you and i should geek out sometime #just a suggestion

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beneaththehalo · 2 months

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nfwmb [rafayel x fem! reader]

an exploration of your married dynamic with rafayel based on the song. there are references to sex and murder, but nothing explicit. the song lyrics are indented, small text, and bolded. 1.3k words. link to ao3!

When i first saw you / the end was soon / to Bethlehem, it slouched /And then it must’ve caught a good look at you / Give your heart and soul to charity / ‘Cause the rest of you / the best of you / honey, belongs to me

another charity gala as rafayel’s wife. parasitic leeches of linkon hoping to boost their image through large donations that barely make a dent in their generational wealth. a drink at the bar, a waltz with a man fifteen years your elder, and the flick of your hair to drain their wallets. it would all be worth it once you could present the large donation check to your favorite ocean conservation charities — saving the sea turtles, clean the beach, etc. in fact, your knack for playing the game is what attracted rafayel to you in the first place. a measly event reporter drowning your sorrows in seconds at the buffet table, ranting to the poor photographer. in a crowd of fairweathers, you were the first real person rafayel had seen. it intrigued him.

you could say the rest was history, but you certainly didn’t make it easy for him as you were wary to trust another snooty, rich man. artist types tended to be uppity, over pretentious, and full of themselves, but their big pockets made them an easy target for charity. you changed your mind on him when you heard him talk about his paintings for the first time, no longer filtered through the PR-lens of Thomas, you saw the true tortures, loves, and muses of a real artist. of course, you were both a bit inebriated at the time which helped forego the filters as you both ranted over the pompous event. when you found out who he was, you thought you’d lose your job and never speak again. you will forever be thankful that the opposite happened.

ain’t it a gentle sound, the rollin’ in the graves? / ain’t it like thunder under earth, the sound it makes? / ain’t it exciting you, the rumble where you lay? / ain’t you my baby? ain’t you my baby?

it wasn’t always easy. the attention that came with being rafayel’s significant other was something you weren’t used too. microphones shoved in your face, constantly ending up on worst-dressed lists, and never knowing who you could trust out of your business contacts. it was fatiguing — this image of mr. rafayel’s perfect wife. she never said anything controversial, so she didn’t have morals or values. she never demanded attention away from her husband. she hardly ate in public or sipped more than one cocktail. yet, she women still seethed with jealousy and found any excuse to tear her down. they told her she would never meet his needs. she wasn’t pretty enough or smart enough to understand his art or tall enough or whatever bullshit excuse the media sold. rafayel’s ability to be a sex symbol as well as an artist was important, you were a threat to the brand.

you can imagine all that external pressure caused an implosion. insecurity breakdowns at home, intimacy interrupted tears, anger, and frustration. rafayel was ever-understanding, his patience with your struggles admirable. and on one such night, he said, “fuck my brand. i fell in love with you because of your capacity to care, tenacity, and raw emotion when you discuss your passions. i could lose my whole career, but i can’t lose you. not to people who don’t know you,” he says, planting a firm kiss upon your forehead. from then on, the dynamic shifted.

nothing fucks with my baby / nothing can get a look in on my baby / nothing fucks with my baby / nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing

you were married within a year or so, quick for some, but why wait for something you know will never change? the wedding naturally received a lot of attention despite it being a private elopement. tabloids clamored for the exclusive interview about the marriage of the famed rafayel and if he had any regrets about marrying at his younger age. would this effect his career? was he considering children? intrusive vultures thinking they were owed answers just because of rafayel’s fame. they never received any.

for rafayel was too busy burning every detail of your body into his mind each night. memorizing his favorite canvas and painting purple hues upon the skin of your neck. he touched you as if to prove that you were the only one who could ever draw his attention. all of your insecurities reduced to ash with his steady rhythm and guidance. he was everything you would ever need, and no one could satiate you more. it was heaven on earth, the connection you both shared. you’d both rather be damned than give that up.

if i was born as a blackthorn tree / i’d wanna be felled by you / held by you / fuel the pyre of your enemies

and here you are, back at the scene of the crime, aka this month’s charity gala to benefit coral reef restoration and preservation. you’re a few cocktails deep, the liquor always making things much easier to bear when conversing with the wealthy elite. men who hated their wives, women who loathed their husbands, and children far too privileged to be well-adjusted. people always found you easy to talk to, a little too easy to talk to, which normally you didn’t mind, it caused them to open their wallets all the same. however, tonight was not your night.

one of the men was blathering on and on about his petulant divorce. nothing you had not heard before. he was bolder than the others though, his words slurring a bit as he drapes himself over you. most people knew not to mess with you. for one, you could handle your own. for two, rafayel was rather possessive. so when this man thought he was clever, groping you inappropriately and making inane comments at your behest, something had to be done. so in your best, pseudo-sympathetic voice, you coax him into a private hall. rafayel isn’t far behind.

ain’t it warming you, the world gone up in flames? / ain’t it the life you, you’re lighting of the blaze? / ain’t it a waste they’d watch the throwing of the shade? / ain’t you my baby? ain’t you my babe?

the smoldering, remnant ashes of the man are promptly flushed down the toilet. rafayel cleans his hands at the sink, the small cut across his face already healing. you fix your hair, and blot at any of the smearing of your makeup. “better off anyways,” rafayel mutters, giving you a once over. he gingerly takes your face in his hands, resting his forehead against yours, “Ça va mon amour? [are you alright my love?]” he whispers. you nod, nuzzling your nose against his.

he peppers delicate kisses across your face. then drapes a few more down your exposed neck and collar. all your worries assuaged for the time being as you float in his attention, the memories of the disgusting socialite washed away as he fans the flames of your nerves. “rafayel,” you sigh, leaning into his touch, “you keep at it and the coral reef will never receive their generous check.” he whines in protest, but ultimately agrees and accompanies you back out to the party.

nobody mentions the missing man, and rafayel was such a smooth talker that any questions were easily forgotten. in the end, you had raised over $1.2 million for coral reef restoration, which was a feat in itself. when the party finally concludes and you tiredly shed your personas at the door of your shared home, you couldn’t be more grateful rafayel was who you had chose to spend your life with. and now that you were finally alone again, he would take that chance to remind you.

nothing fucks with my baby / nothing can get a look in on my baby / nothing fucks with my baby / nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing

beneaththehalo || est 2024

#rafayel x reader #l&ds rafayel #lnds rafayel #lads rafayel #rafayel x you #rafayel x mc #rafayel x y/n #the holy manuscript;#love and deepspace #l&ds #lads #lnds #song fic #l&ds fic #lads x reader #rafayel love and deepspace

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kuroenanan · 5 months

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Heya! 2nd req I have made for this blog for now:'D Can I request for all Niigo members(separate) x reader; Where the reader is basically a huge fan of Niigo though is in denial that they're too much of a downbad fan for their songs. But one day, they catch the reader screaming every lyrics of their song in their room(you can pick whichever song of your choice!) and gets embarrassed to find out that the specific character was actually watching and the reader tries to act as if nothing happened. It is also your choice if the reader is actually good at singing or if they're LITERALLY screaming the lyrics wahaha

Diehard fan

a/n ; this is such a funny request. please enjoy!

a/n 2 ; i included my favourite commissioned song of each member, with a link to each! pls listen to them. they’re great.

characters ; kanade, mafuyu, ena, and mizuki.

# kanade.

since the members of nightcord are anonymous, and you don’t really know that your girlfriend is the composer of your favourite group, kanade can get a bit embarrassed whenever you talk about how amazing her group’s songs are!

she finds it a bit funny how you tend to deny how big of a fan you are, and if it were up to her, she’d gladly give you the title of number one fan.

one day, however, she doesn’t expect to hear you singing passion at 25:00 in your bedroom when she comes over for her weekly visit.

she stands there, mouth agape; your voice is beautiful, and your singing no less. you manage to hit every note with no issue, how come you’ve never sung for her before? she’d love to hear more.

when you find out she’s been standing there the entire time, your face flushes red and you pretend nothing was happening. she finds it adorable. <3

# mafuyu.

she can’t quite explain it, but mafuyu feels a certain warmth in her chest whenever you talk about how much you love nightcord, especially when you talk about how the lyrics of each song resonate with you.

she doesn’t understand why you deny it, though; if you like nightcord so much, why not express it?

it’s not until she finds you in your bedroom, as she arrived to your house for a ‘study session’ (a lie she told to her mother), singing saisei, that she seems to understand.

were you shy about singing in front of her? ashamed? you shouldn’t be — she finds your voice so comforting, and mafuyu feels a small, genuine smile form on her face.

it goes away, however, as soon as you notice her standing outside your door and go beet red; coughing into your fist and beckoning her to come inside. you really should sing for her sometime.

# ena.

ena can’t help but feel a bit proud of herself whenever you gush about nightcord — especially when you mention the artwork of each music video. that’s her art you’re praising; she wishes you knew that you were dating the illustrator.

she always asks why you deny it, and you respond with “i’m not denying anything!” which always makes her giggle.

nothing can stop her from being shocked, happy, and head over heels all at the same time, when she finds you in your bedroom singing i am rain, though.

it was a relatively new song from her group, and the fact that you already know each lyric by heart? could she be more in love?

she laughs as you realize she had been there the whole time, a lovestruck grin on her face as she enters your room.

# mizuki.

mizuki loves when you talk about nightcord! they can’t help but feel giddy whenever you mention the music videos, and how well they’re edited. that’s their work! and! you’re praising it!

they don’t question you when you deny your love for nightcord, only smiling as you continue to gush about it.

though, they’re absolutely awestruck by you, when they find you singing kimi no yoru wo kure in your room.

they feel like crying; you’re singing beautifully, and a song that’s dear to their heart, too. just when i thought i couldn’t love them more. they think to themselves.

giggling when you realize they’ve been there the whole time, they give you a hug; beyond grateful that you’re in their life.

#kanade yoisaki #kanade yoisaki x reader #mafuyu asahina #mafuyu asahina x reader #ena shinonome #ena shinonome x reader #mizuki akiyama #mizuki akiyama x reader #imagines #project sekai #project sekai x reader

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sundrop-writes · 9 months

Text

Emergency Contact

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

You choke on your words, but you swallow them faster.

Just want you to be my Emergency Contact.

Summary:

After Jason miraculously comes home from his brush with Deathstroke, you’re both feeling it in very different ways. You have an unexpected physical wound from the battle, and he has many (very expected) emotional wounds. You help each other heal. Even if it’s very stubborn on both your parts.

Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Enemies/FWB to Lovers. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. (Slight Smut). Set during Season 2, Episode 5.

Word Count: 10,400

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

...

Warnings: general emotional angst, Jason has a self deprecating inner dialogue, (kind of) enemies to lovers - more like annoyances to fuck buddies to lovers, friends with benefits to lovers, the reader and Jason have a bantering/argumentative nature to their relationship, the reader is meant to be 100% gender neutral (the reader is never referred to in the third person, so there is no need to use they/them pronouns, but the reader is not called she/her or he/him), Jason calls the reader ‘babe’ (imo, a completely gender neutral term and he would call anybody that), mentions of alcohol (Jason drinking a beer), the reader character has ice powers (not entirely relevant to the plot but I couldn’t help myself lmao).

sexual themes throughout, mentions of sexting (no detailed descriptions), mentions of sexting in public, mentions of the reader character sending nudes to Jason (no detailed descriptions of the photos), one scene with detailed smut (but it is not the primary focus of the fic), the reader’s genitals are not described in any specific way, some dirty talk, Jason is more dominant and the reader is more submissive, penetrative sex, Jason is annoying even during sex, Jason has a pain kink (even when he’s a dom, he’s a painslut, I don’t make the rules), scratching/marking (Jason receiving), slight humiliation kink.

mentions of canon level violence, mentions of kidnapping (in alignment with canon), mentions of Jason being beaten by Deathstroke, mentions of Jason’s near-death experience (being dropped off the building), gun violence, the reader is injured - has a bullet wound/bullet fragment in their stomach, mentions of blood, descriptions of first-aid, mentions of puss from an infected wound (theoretically, not something that happens in the fic). That should be everything.

A/N: The title for the fic comes from a song by Pierce the Veil of the same name. It’s a newer song, and it’s one that I absolutely went to when looking for a title for this fic. The concept of becoming someone’s emergency contact is about upgrading the relationship from casual to much more serious, and just the whole song, and specific lyrics in it suit this fic so well. I highly recommend listening to it paired with this fic.

This was based on a request from my old blog, but obvi I don’t have that ask anymore - the request was about Jason getting shot and having his wound attended to by the reader, but I changed it to the reader getting shot cause I thought that was more interesting and less common. If the person who made that request sees this and finds my new blog, I hope you enjoy it! And in general, I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it.

This is another re-post from my old blog, and I do have a sequel for it in my drafts, which I am not actively working on. And before I post the sequel, I do plan on tweaking this and revamping it a little, but I figured I would repost this for now just to have the masterlist complete on this blog.

...

If asked, you would be hard pressed to explain your relationship with Jason Todd.

The best way you could describe it would probably be - friends with benefits?

But most of the time, the two of you weren’t even friends. You weren’t the type to hang out casually, or spend time alone together if it didn’t involve ripping each other’s clothes off.

If you ever exchanged secrets or those precious bits of your most raw selves, it was by mistake. It was through sarcasm, or coming off the tired lips of someone who had just been exhausted by a few orgasms. The two of you knew each other well, quite literally inside and out. But you always made a deep, concerted effort to hold each other at arm’s length. And maybe that’s part of what all the snark and harsh words were for.

It wasn’t all arguing. You were friendly. You could be civil, at the very least.

Right from the moment you had first met Jason, you had found him to be so damn annoying, a shitstain on the earth - yet, someone you couldn’t stay away from. The line between flirtatious banter and a truly grinding argument was always so thin with the two of you.

…

You hadn’t expected that your life would be truly changed when you walked into that safehouse in Chicago that day. You truly thought nothing of him when his eyes landed on you - in those moments, a completely anonymous stranger, raking his eyes over you like you were a piece of meat. It was a gaze that immediately made you feel naked, something that made you want to smack him. You told yourself it was because he was being a pervert, not because of the heat that curled in your gut at feeling so intensely desired by him.

He had been sitting on the couch sipping a beer like he owned the place, his thighs spread wide in a way you immediately decided was arrogant and annoying rather than hot - showing off his muscle tone as if it was trying to break through his jeans. Definitely annoying. Definitely the stance of a fuckboy trying to look bigger and badder than he was. He definitely was not attractive.

When Dick led you, Rachel, Gar, and Kory further into the condo that seemed far too conspicuous to be a safehouse, the stranger you would later come to know as Jason quickly spoke up.

“Who are your friends?” He asked.

As he rose from the couch, his eyes lingered on you. Though his words seemed more out of curiosity, you couldn’t help but feel that bite of something more salacious lingering in his voice.

It caused you to scoff and roll your eyes.

“Not important.” Dick declared, his voice snippy. He was clearly annoyed with this new guy, and you could tell that your perceptions of him were definitely not ill-informed.

“Who’s he?” Kory asked, going for the obvious question.

“Not important.” Dick parroted out the words again, sounding much shorter with his patience.

“Anybody want a brew?” Jason asked, motioning with the beer bottle in his hand.

“Brew?” You twisted your eyebrows with disgust, staring him down as you commented on his odd choice of slang.

He didn’t get to reply, as you were trampled over by Gar’s enthusiastic voice in your ear.

“I do!” He said, raising his hand with excitement.

“No, you don’t.” You quickly told him, reaching out to grab his hand and put it back down. “It’s disgusting.”

You had a grand suspicion that Gar had never drank beer before, and he had no idea what he was truly asking for. Rather, he was simply taking advantage of trying new things because Dick and Kory were incredibly slack parental figures and he was away from home for the first time.

“No, no one wants a brew.” Dick sighed, shaking his head. He threw Jason a small glare and you resisted the urge to laugh.

“That can’t be Adamson.” Kory said, motioning toward Jason.

This left you confused. But you didn’t question it.

“He’s not Adamson. Adamson’s in the bathroom. Unconscious.” Dick explained.

“Hi, I’m Rachel.” Rachel told Jason, offering him a sweet smile - being her usual sweet self.

“Jason.” He introduced himself, in that moment, finally giving you a name to that obnoxious face.

“I’m Gar!” Gar said with a grin, to which Jason nodded.

Jason caught you glaring at him, and looked you up and down again, as if trying to willfully tear off your clothes with his eyes. It made your skin itch with heat and you would forever deny that it was a feeling you liked.

“What can I call you, babe?” He asked, his voice entirely slimy, the kind of tone he would have used to recite cheesy lines to Tinder dates, you were entirely sure of.

Before you could come up with some clever reply, Dick sighed in frustration and started balking again.

“Okay, who we all are doesn’t matter right now.” He pressed, his neck so entirely tense that veins began to pop from the skin. “Can we just chill out, relax, sit on the couch and watch TV or something?”

It seemed that he wouldn’t get his wish.

Gar quickly charged around the table, finding something else to get strung up about.

“Yo, when did you get another one?” He asked, putting his hands on both of the expensive cases on the long dining table - a copy identical to the one you knew to be containing Dick’s Robin outfit.

It made you curious, and the answer that followed certainly surprised you.

“That one’s mine.” Jason said, his chest literally puffing out with pride as he stated the fact.

“No way.” You scoffed.

“Yes way.” He quickly argued back, the whole exchange sounding entirely juvenile.

“This one’s yours? Wait, you’re Robin too?” Gar quickly put the pieces together.

“I thought you were Robin?” Rachel commented, tilting her head toward Dick with curiosity.

“I am.” Dick said firmly.

“He was.” Jason corrected, a cocky smirk forming across his lips.

“Batman really lowered the height requirement, huh.” You said.

The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them, seeing as it was likely the only thing you could nitpick about Jason’s appearance. Between his stunning sharp jaw, his piercing blue eyes, his oddly appealing wild hair, his muscle tone being somehow visible beneath his baggy clothing - all of it made you equally frustrated and annoyed with him, and your baser urges couldn’t resist the low-hanging fruit.

You felt victory and a slight pang of guilt when Jason deflated because of your comment, shrinking back into himself at your words.

He didn’t have anything to say in return, he simply sipped his beer.

“Wait, how many Robins are there?” Gar said, beginning to excitedly ramble at the thought. “Are there a lot? Cause I would love to-”

“Okay, quiet.” Kory cut him off, clearly becoming annoyed with all of this dancing around the point as much as Dick was. “Sit.”

Her words were firm, and you couldn’t help but to listen. You found yourself collapsing to sit on the couch while Rachel and Gar took seats at the dining table. Jason continued to linger in the middle of the room, staring at Kory and Dick as their frustration filled the air.

“Bathroom.” Kory told Dick, and then they left to deal with whoever - or whatever - Adamson was.

Jason sighed and took a seat beside you. When his eyes fell on you, you set your jaw and glared at him. You didn’t give away a single ounce of the heat you were feeling as his eyes locked with yours.

“Even if I am the shorter Robin, I can assure you that everything else about me is… very long.” He lowered his voice and whispered those last words, crowding into your personal space as he did so.

It sent shivers down your spine, his silken voice making the words sound too tempting. Even if you twisted your face and said ‘gross!’ causing him to dissolve into laughter, you didn’t make an effort to move away from him or put any space between your two bodies on the very large couch. You told yourself it was because you were tired from a very long day of travel, not because you were enjoying the smell of his strangely expensive cologne from this close by.

His grin was still entirely smug, and you couldn’t stand it.

When he raised the beer bottle up to his mouth again, you reached over and put a hand on his forearm, forcefully dragging his arm down as you made a snide comment.

“That shit is disgusting, why the hell do you drink it?” You asked.

You found your face drifting toward his again and if asked, you would say it was a form of intimidation - not that you were being drawn in by an unconscious attraction to him.

“Because I can.” He replied, just as snide as he slipped your grip and sipped on the drink.

You mocked his words in an entirely childish voice, and then you raised a single finger up to it and skimmed along the neck of the bottle. It took only a single moment of concentration with your skilled powers to freeze the beer inside solid. He thought he felt an extra chill coming off his hand, but convinced himself that he imagined it. But when he kept it tilted and nothing came out to meet his lips, he shook it and then stuck an inquiring eye inside the bottle.

When he saw that it was completely frozen, he looked over and saw you grinning, and little did you know - that was the moment he became completely taken with you. You were one of the most annoying people he had ever met, and he found himself so intensely attracted to you.

Even if it was getting under your skin by arguing with you or fucking your brains out, he knew in that moment - he had to get inside you and drive you insane the same way that he knew you would for him.

…

When Dick left to go check on his old circus friend Clay, Jason winked at you and said ‘don’t miss me too much’. You made a show of putting a finger near your mouth and audibly gagging.

Later that night, when Jason didn’t return, you hated the curl of disappointment that panged in your stomach. You wanted to hit yourself for staring at the door, waiting for the second Robin to come in behind Dick.

You hated yourself even more for replying to Jason’s texts.

Apparently he had taken your phone out of your jacket pocket when you went to the bathroom (not to see Adamson - a different bathroom, to pee). And he had put himself in your contacts as ‘Hot Guy’. He had also sent himself a text from your phone that read ‘omg Jason you’re so hot, will you fuck me?’. And then replied to it from his own phone with a picture of his cock.

Unfortunately, the only thing you could mock about the picture was poor lighting.

When you told him as much, he quickly remedied that with several more pictures - ones with better lighting. He sent a video with very distinct audio. You would deny that you rushed to put your headphones in to listen to it while you sat on the train with Kory and Gar. You would deny that it drove a hard, hot pain between your thighs.

You dug through a folder and sent some pictures of your own. You told yourself it was to prove to him that you were too good for him - to show off something he could never actually have. To tease him.

You would deny that you loved the compliments he gave you, that you ate up the affection like a plant lovingly soaking up the sun.

When you were sexting him, you had no clue that you were ever going to see him again. It was almost mindless, something for a dopamine hit to distract yourself from all the chaos going on around you. You weren’t doing it because you actually liked Jason. You didn’t have any real attractions toward him, or any real plans to carry out all of the bold things you said in those messages.

You had no clue that you’d end up living together.

When you did find out that Dick would be taking Jason into the newly reopened Titans Tower along with you, Gar, and Rachel, you didn’t make a big deal of it in your mind. When Jason made flirtatious remarks toward you in person, you brushed him off. You put up a wall.

You told yourself that he was nothing more than a cocky, shallow guy who would use you for sex and then throw you away - something you could never actually build a proper relationship with. And if you were supposed to live together, be some kind of team like Dick expected you to be, then you couldn’t be messy. You couldn’t get emotional.

You had no clue that on one of those first nights living together, your self assured discipline not to give into your lust for him would break like a wafer cookie, and you would be in his bed faster than a sea turtle running into ocean.

…

“Fuck, babe, you feel so good on my cock.” Jason grunted, his face buried in your neck as he thrusted deep inside of you. The loud squelch of artificial wetness coming from between your thighs as he worked his hips, working you open with a needy, demanding pace. “Bet you love this cock, huh? Tell me how fuckin’ much you love it.”

“Shut up.”

The words came from your throat as a weak whimper, much less powerful than you had intended.

You didn’t want to give him any more power than he already held over you - he had you weak and willing on his cock, something you would have never admitted could be true until it was happening in these moments.

Though you would never admit it aloud, you loved the way he handled you. Having you pinned against the bed with his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, having you breathless and moaning as he fucked into you with fast, obviously skilled strokes. Your nails cut into the flesh of his back, and he let out a low rumble from his gut as the sharp sting sent a wave of pleasure through him.

You hated the twinge of lustful embarrassment that curled in your gut when he chuckled at your words.

“Oh, you want me to shut up?” He asked, slightly breathless from the act himself, moving one hand beside your head to raise himself up slightly to look in your eyes.

He was sweaty, disheveled, his hair a mess, his muscles taught with the effort as he continued to pound into you. You hated that you had imagined him much like this before, and that this outlived all of your fantasies.

“Yes.” You fired back. “Just shut up and fuck me.”

He bit his lip - something you didn’t know was him trying to hold back his orgasm, so utterly turned on by your bratty defiance, the twinge of a whimper in your voice as you said those words.

“You weren’t tellin’ me to shut up when I was texting you.”

He said, all hot breath fanning across your chin, his hips spearing forward in sharp, hard hits that made your skin smack loudly together. It made you work hard to suppress moans deep in your chest in a way that was painful, like venom inside your lungs. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of your sounds, of knowing just how good he was fucking you - even if he could see it written all over your pleasure twisted face.

“You only begged for more when I was tellin’ you how I was gonna lay you on my bed. Take you apart… make you scream my name.”

He reached his other hand from your hip to the point where you were joined. He began touching that tender place, making sharp, vicious strokes that were almost vengeful. Tears easily gathered in your eyes and he let out another chuckle when you choked on a deep, pleasurable wail.

“Tell me, how many times did you touch yourself reading what I wrote?”

He asked, leaning down to whisper the words right in your ear.

“How many times did you cum thinking about me?”

“I didn’t.” You choked out, digging your nails deeper into the skin of his back, causing him to grunt as the pain mixed with the pleasure flowing through him.

“Sure, babe.” He smirked down at you, turning that look into something absolutely pavlovian that would forever make you feel his cock deep inside of you when you saw it, rather than feeling annoyed.

Maybe from that point on, it was a bit of both.

In an effort to shut him up, you reached up and claimed his lips. It was supposed to be a kiss, but it was mostly teeth. When you bit down on his bottom lip, snarling, he tasted blood and the way he moaned at the pain was absolutely unmistakable. It was something you remembered and used against him many times after that.

…

You wouldn’t allow yourself any room for self hatred when it came to that break in your self control. When it became an ongoing thing, you spun it as positive in your mind.

It was just sexual release. You and Jason both needed it. It paired well with intense training and the heavy studying that Dick made you do. It lowered your stress levels a lot, and it helped you get through the day.

The more time you spent around Jason, the more you got to know him, and the more you came to realize that he was nowhere near shallow. You easily saw that he was caring, deep, complex, troubled. The more time passed, you found yourself falling for him and the more you deeply denied it. Because it was just sex.

Things were good between the two of you, and you knew that if you added anything else to the mix - any complicated, mushy feelings - you would fuck it up.

You were especially reminded of this - how important it was not to fuck things up - just a day or so before every other force aside from you railed Titans Tower and began royally fucking things up.

…

It was a morning just like any other at Titans Tower. It was delightfully quiet - even though Dick demanded that everyone get up at ungodly early hours to begin training, you had somehow managed to wake up before everyone else and you were enjoying the peace it brought you.

When you got up to see that Jason was already in the kitchen, standing at the counter as he munched on a bowl of cereal, you wanted to scorn the idea that your peace would be interrupted. But instead, you found yourself willfully suppressing a smile.

You yawned and walked over to the counter, grabbing a bowl from one of the cupboards, thinking that cereal was just the right idea on his part. A deep frown cut through your face when you poured out the rest of the cereal box he had left on the counter, and a very measly amount fell into your bowl.

“What kind of asshole only leaves three fucking cornflakes in the bottom of the box?” You scoffed, causing him to chuckle.

“Learn to count, babe.” He told you, speaking with his mouth half-full. “That’s more than three.”

You rolled your eyes. You were likely exaggerating - but still, it seemed rude to you to leave such a small portion, barely a handful, in the bottom of the box.

“Or did I make you cum so hard last night that I knocked the common sense out of your head?” He added on, throwing you that signature smirk that made heat bloom between your thighs.

You let out a sarcastic snort, giving him a purposefully disgusted grimace as you lifted the bowl up and dumped the remaining cereal into his portion instead.

“You might as well take these.” You told him. “And don’t flatter yourself, you’re not that good.”

You moved behind them, distracting yourself from the conversation by making a cup of coffee.

“Oh really?” He perked up, rising to his full height, pure mischief in his voice. “It didn’t sound like it last night.”

Much to your horror, he then began imitating your moans.

“‘Oh, Jason! Oh, fuck me! More!’”

It was a cartoonish, pornographic imitation, something he likely wouldn’t have done if the others were anywhere within earshot. Oddly enough, even though your relationship was casual, you still kept it guarded and private, as though it were some precious secret that needed to be kept from the others.

“‘Jason, please, your dick is the best! Oh, make me cum!’”

But that was the farthest thing from your mind as embarrassment curled in your stomach, the reaction he likely wanted to draw out of you. You hated that you didn’t truly know if it was accurate or not, because sometimes - yes, he did fuck your brains out and make you completely mindless on his cock.

But you would never admit that he was right.

“Shut up.” You sighed, causing him to dissolve into laughter, feeling as though he had won.

But you wouldn’t simply leave it at that.

Instead, as you pushed the button on the machine and your coffee began to drip, you turned around and gently placed your fingers on the side of his cereal bowl. You froze all the milk inside of it solid, making it into one large frozen chunk with the spoon stuck inside when he wasn’t looking - distracted, staring at your face, looking for any trace of the reaction that he had drawn out of you.

You just glared, and he smirked once more.

When he picked up the spoon again and went to take another bite, the entire bowl came with it. He sighed in defeat when he realized what you had done.

“You know, it’s so damn annoying when you do that.” He sighed.

“I know.” You grinned at him.

He couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach at this. He resisted the urge to grab you by the sides of your head and steal the grin of your mouth with his own. He told you that it was out of annoyance, and not affection. He told himself those lines were most definitely not blurred when it came to you.

…

Confessing your feelings to Jason would not have been your choice.

Given the choice, you would have let your feelings quietly live and die inside of you. You would have just kept Jason as a friend. You would have even dropped the amazing sex if it meant staying on good terms with him.

But the stakes rose pretty quickly, and things were taken out of your hands. The choice was stolen from you and Jason entirely against your will.

When you found out he was missing, supposedly kidnapped by Doctor Light on the heels of some misguided plan - something inside of you shattered. Up until that moment, if you thought it was just a stupid crush, or an infatuation inside of you that would easily fade with time - you quickly found out that you were wrong.

You went through the stages of grief like a rocket.

Denial. Staring at the door, waiting for him to walk inside at any moment. Just like you had back at the safehouse.

Anger. Being so pissed at Dick at the other older Titans that you could barely breathe. How had they let this happen to him? How could they make him feel so inadequate that he felt the need to go out on his own, half-cocked, clearly doing something in the name of looking for their approval?

Bargaining. You would have traded places with him. You would have been the one, alone and scared and stranded if it meant that he got to be at home safe. You would have gone with him to carry out the stupid plan if he had only asked. Why hadn’t he asked you?

Depression. You wept in your room, hands clasped over your face, letting out chest-shaking sobs as you thought of the possibility of him never returning home again. You realized the possibility of him dying was very real and it made your lungs burn.

And then finally - Acceptance. You finally accepted that your feelings for him were something bigger, and if it meant that you were the only person in the Tower who truly cared about him (probably aside from Gar) - the only person who didn’t just see him as a pawn to be used against Deathstroke - then you had to do something about it.

So you laid out your love for Jason. You put it all on the line for him. You accidentally confessed to him, showed your feelings in a gesture so quiet it screamed.

You knew that for someone who stepped up to become Robin, someone who scorned cops for pummeling down on the innocent when they were supposed to be protectors - stepping up to try and save his life meant a love bigger than anything else you could have done.

And he was terrified of it. There was a big justice in your love for him. And to him, there was an even bigger justice in giving you an out to escape it - to escape loving him.

…

Hectic.

That was easily how you would describe the last few days at Titans Tower.

Between the unexpected arrival of Rose - Dick taking on another stray because, like Rachel said, he couldn’t resist a bird with a broken wing. Finding out that she was related to one of the deadliest men on earth that the Titans apparently had previous history with. And then Jason going off on his own without telling you, some botched hostage trade, and the group picking up yet another stray - a strange boy who had saved Jason’s life. It was all a blur of hectic chaos that had you snapping your neck to keep up.

Sleep was scarce and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a proper meal.

But you weren’t truly worried about any of that.

Dust had been kicked up around your life, and you couldn’t wait for it to settle before you made your next important decision.

Even though the wounds were still tender, you knew that things were safe for now, and your number one concern was Jason.

The minute he had gotten in the door, even though he was slightly hobbled and clearly sore from whatever Deathstroke had done to him, he rushed out of your sight. He was clearly eager to get away from everyone like a wounded animal sulking away to lick his wounds in peace. And when you had chased him, ignoring a nagging pain in your own side from the fight, he had slammed his bedroom door in your face, entirely uncaring of the fact that you called out his name, concerned for him.

The rest of the group was distracted with Conner - not knowing what he had been shot with or how to fix it. You hated it, but in the eyes of the group, yet again, Jason and any of his problems fell to the back burner.

After you had taken a short shower and changed your clothes, you found yourself here. Standing in front of Jason’s closed bedroom door, hoping not to face another cold rejection.

You wondered if he would be sleeping, wondered if you should interrupt his peace. But you knew that sleep was unlikely after everything that had happened.

So you took the leap.

You raised a fist, once again pushing down that stinging pain coming from the right side of your stomach. You reasoned that it was probably nothing more than a bruise forming there. And you knocked on the door.

A few moments later, the door was jerked open, and Jason glared at you.

His eyes were dull and tired, and there was a large bruise forming on the side of his mouth. Probably one of many others that you couldn’t see, from the way he had been walking earlier. He likely hadn’t been sleeping, but you had disturbed him.

“What the hell do you want?” He grumbled out, his voice dull, lacking any true fight.

“I wanted to check on you.” You told him, entirely honest. “I know it might seem stupid, but I wanna see how you’re doing.”

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes.

He wanted to agree that - yes, it was stupid. It should have been obvious how he was doing after being kidnapped, beaten, and dropped off a building. But he was an idiot who had gotten himself thrown headfirst into that mess, thinking he could handle it. And he didn’t need to go crying to you about how badly he had fucked up. He had made a poor choice and he deserved all of the consequences. It was a simple fact of life.

“I’m doing just fine, thanks.” Jason said, entirely snide and sarcastic. “Look, I don’t need your help, okay? So fuck off.”

It was a set of harsh, cutting words. But he thought getting distance from you would be best. This whole thing had woken him up from the sweet little fantasy the two of you had been participating in. He was a natural born fuck-up. And sure, he could have you for a while, play around a bit - but he could never truly make you happy. Eventually, he would fuck you up too. He was a harsh poison and it would be better if he got out of your life before you felt the full effects.

He moved to shove the door closed and upon instinct, you reached up and fought him on it. Unconsciously, you winced as a sharp pain came from the injury in your stomach, reaching for it with your free hand as you held the door open with the other. It should have been no big deal. With your meta abilities, you usually healed quicker. You weren’t even used to feeling it when you got hurt. You were probably just feeling it worse because you were tired.

You tried to ignore the pain. But in a moment, Jason’s eyes went wide with worry as his gaze darted from your face, knit with pain, to where your hand was nursing the injury. Any sense of smarmy discontent dropped from his features, immediately being replaced with a softness and worry for you.

“You’re hurt.” He said quietly.

He let the door fall open again, reaching for your hand to inspect the injury himself.

“I’m fine.” You played the card this time, exchanging his lie for your own.

It was an odd play. He had lied about not being so torn up inside, emotionally devastated as he was, and now you were lying about not being physically injured from the fight. The two of you made an odd, but perfectly matched pair.

Jason barreled right past your words, and you were easily pliant to his touch as he removed your hand from the injury. You certainly were not expecting for him to find anything incriminating under your hand. But he glared at you when he found bright red spread across your palm, a glossy wetness leaking through your shirt.

“You’re bleeding.” He grunted at you.

Clearly, he was disappointed in the fact that you had neglected to bring this injury to the group’s attention. Pissed off at the fact that you weren’t in the medbay with Conner receiving some treatment right now.

Maybe you could blame it on the chaos. Maybe you could blame it on the fact that with everyone so emotionally distraught, you didn’t want to be just another problem for everyone to fuss over.

“Whoops.” You breathed out sarcastically. “I didn’t even notice.”

That last part was honest. In all the adrenaline, all your worrying over whether or not Jason was going to live as you watched him dangle so high off the ground - you truly hadn’t paid any mind to the injury.

“You didn’t-?” Jason huffed out in anger, but didn’t bother finishing the sentence.

Perhaps he partially understood himself, knowing how the adrenaline from a fight could stamp out pain. Or perhaps he knew how truly stubborn you were and he didn’t want to waste his energy arguing with you.

“You need this treated.” He added on.

No matter how fucked in the head he was, he never wanted to see you hurt. That was something he would definitely waste his energy on - wearing down your stubbornness until you let him or someone else in the house take care of the injury properly.

“Conner is worse off than I am.” You shrugged. “He needs the attention more.”

“Then let me help you.” He said, an impatient nagging rising up in his throat. “Bruce gave me some first aid training. One thing that means I’m not totally useless.”

The words made your chest ache for him, a pain that easily competed with the bleeding wound.

“Jason-”

You wanted to argue with him. You wanted to tell him he had infinite worth to you.

But of course, he cut you off.

“Just go sit on the bed.” He told you, quiet, but a firm command that you couldn’t ignore.

He gently pushed past you, on a quest for some supplies to patch you up with. You then found yourself drifting into his room almost mindlessly, your hand clutching the wound again upon instinct. It was a place that you felt oddly at home. The nights you had spent in that bed since coming to Titans Tower, your head delightfully empty as he had fucked you hard and fast - they were by far your favourites.

You would say it was because of the sex, and not just because you got to be wrapped up in Jason’s arms. Maybe everything had changed. Maybe your answers were different now. Maybe you were raw and tender and Jason wasn’t prepared to chase you in that devotion.

But that was just the thing. With you and Jason, there was never any sense of devotion. You and Jason were always hard and fast. Teasing each other, verging on the edge of vengeful. It was a flame that burned intensely hot - but it was never anything soft. It was never anything that prompted you to knock on his door so late, wanting to check on his well being. It was nothing that prompted you to make chase to put your life on the line for him.

Even just knowing that he had the intent to attend to your injury, called himself useful because of it - the thought cradled you like a warm blanket. It had you balancing on the edge of a dam holding back a barrage of feelings that you had been quelling down since the moment you had first put your lips on his.

“I told you to sit.” Jason’s voice came from behind you.

He had raided the infirmary and now had a handful of supplies - luckily without anyone seeing him or questioning why. When you turned to him, he was closing the bedroom door behind him, sealing you both in with this newfound soft intensity, the tired lull of two people unwilling to hold back that softness anymore. It was entirely dangerous, and entirely life-saving at the same time; and neither of you realized it.

“Since when do you get to boss me around?” You told him, your voice low and lacking any true spirit or sarcasm.

It was in the same vein as the banter the two of you usually threw around - bickering about who was a bigger asshole, who was more stubborn, who was better in bed.

You expected some kind of sexual comment in return. You could almost hear it now - he was the boss of you because he made you melt on his cock, made you mindless and dumb with it.

But, no dice.

The longer you stared at him, catching bits of the fresh pain swimming through those gorgeous blue eyes, you wished so badly for the mischief and sarcasm and light to come back and bite you the way that it used to.

It only made your stomach churn harder at the whole situation. Things had officially changed between you and Jason. You had yet to find out if it was for the better, or for the painstakingly worse.

Jason sighed through his nose.

“You can be such an asshole sometimes.” He told you. Coming from him, and given the nature of your relationship, you knew it was almost a compliment. “Will you just sit down and let me help you?”

Even though you were utterly terrified of the swelling of emotions you felt, bound to come to a head - you did.

You sat on the edge of the bed and he placed the supplies beside you.

When he mumbled out a quiet ‘lay back’, and you did, his cool fingertips at the hem of your shirt pulling it upward felt strangely more intimate than any other time you had been in this same position. It wasn’t heady, you weren’t granted the distraction of his mouth on yours and his tongue shoved between your lips while a harsh throbbing nagged between your legs.

This was quiet, and calm, and gentle.

When you caught his eye above you as he wiped away the blood with some clean gauze, you saw nothing but pity and worry and sparkling affection for you. You almost dared to call it something as epic and dangerous as love, buried deep in his eyes. He worked with the most delicate touch, almost as if he was afraid to break you, before he glanced down and inspected the wound.

His brow furrowed with even more intense worry, guilt nipping at his insides when he got a good look at it.

“I think I see a bullet in here.” He told you, and then he moved around the bed and grabbed his phone, turning on the flashlight to have a better light to inspect it. You felt intensely naked, intensely caught when he began shining the light on your stomach with a harshly inquisitive look across his face. “Definitely something shiny. You got shot and you didn’t fucking tell anyone?”

It was only then that you realized when you had gotten the wound - the exact moment clicking into place in your mind.

“It was only a ricochet.” You argued quietly. “It’s not that bad.”

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes, and began sorting out his supplies, preparing to pull out whatever was lodged inside of you.

…

Dick explicitly told you to stay put.

They only wanted the more experienced Titans, the Varsity squad on the case when dealing with Deathstroke. He blamed young naive incompetence as the reason Jason had gotten captured in the first place. You blamed him and Bruce pushing Jason out, making him feel like he needed so desperately to prove himself. But it was something Dick wasn’t ready to hear - an argument you weren’t going to have with the very stubborn team leader.

Instead, you went for the silent route. You trailed the rest of them out of Tower, and when Dick strayed away from the rest of the group, his head on a swivel as he glanced back and forth, seemingly wanting to assure that none of the others were following him - you followed your gut instincts and went after him.

You hid in the shadows and the moment that Deathstroke hit the button and those panels scrolled up, revealing Jason stranded on that scaffolding - you couldn’t help yourself.

“Jason!”

You screamed out his name, you leapt forward.

Dick didn’t have time to scold you, not before the gunfire started.

Kory came out of nowhere - seemingly, she had the same idea as you. Putting her life on the line for an emotionally repressed man that she hadn’t admitted her feelings for. But she was there because she was in love with the other Robin. (Or rather, a man who claimed over and over again that he wasn’t Robin.)

Things quickly became a blur - flashes of flame as Kory fought, battling with the muzzle flashes from Deathstroke’s guns, limbs flying as they fought each other. You didn’t see it, but Deathstroke raised and aimed at you as you rushed toward the window, blindly going after Jason. In response, Dick charged forward, redirecting the gun as he pulled the trigger. You heard the sharp ‘ping’ sound of metal on metal - what you couldn’t see was the bullet hitting one of the metal beams in the ceiling. But you certainly felt it when it sliced into your side.

At the time, it was nothing compared to the fear you felt for Jason.

His eyes were wide with terror, and you could only focus on getting him to safety. You had no idea that a large part of his panic came from seeing you in the building. He had hoped that Dick would keep you away from all of this. But there you were, standing a few feet away from a man with a gun who was shooting around wildly. Jason would have delighted in being dropped off the building to his death if he had to see you get fatally shot when he could do nothing but squirm on the other side of the glass.

You put two hands on the glass, banging on it - of course, it was no use. It was inches thick, meant to keep people from going through it at this height. Working entirely on instinct, you put your palms flat across it and began forming ice crystals over it, hoping to make it rigid and breakable if it was frozen.

Once there was enough ice, you quickly looked around and spotted a metal pipe there for the in-progress construction of the building, so you grabbed it and rushed to smash the glass with it. You felt victorious as it shattered, and Jason flinched away from the shards, putting you one step closer to freeing him.

Though the moment the glass was cleared, leaving the wind whipping around you, his first words of greeting to you were not celebratory.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He barked at you, clearly angry with you.

You felt a dull ache in your chest at this. You thought he might be relieved, happy, pleased. At the time, you couldn’t interpret his harsh reaction as worry for you possibly getting hurt.

Nonetheless, you ignored his harshness. You would save him, whether he wanted to be saved or not. You draped your body through the window, reaching out to him. You made an effort to keep most of your weight planted on the floor of the building, in case the scaffolding wasn’t stable enough to hold two people at once.

“What do you think?” You replied, pure sarcasm dripping through your voice as you reached behind Jason and began fiddling with the rope around his wrists.

The position put the two of you in intensely close proximity. Jason caught a whiff of your unique scent, the shower gel you used that mingled with your body’s natural oils; and he felt so painfully at home. For the first time that night, he held back tears. He couldn’t help but to lean his forehead on your shoulder, taking comfort in having you so near after being on edge and terrified for so many hours. You resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair, to cradle him and give him further comfort. You forced yourself to focus on the task at hand - getting him to safety.

Behind you, at the very back of the room, Dick and Deathstroke wrestled with the remote for the explosives attached to the scaffolding.

Just as you managed to get Jason’s wrists freed, Deathstroke hit the switch, and the bombs went off.

…

You winced loudly as Jason dabbed at the wound with disinfectant.

“I would say sorry… but, you’ll thank me later when this isn’t swollen and leaking puss.” He told you, throwing you a small smirk.

It was smug. It was the usual kind of humor that he gave you.

It was comforting to know that every trace of the Jason you knew hadn’t been stolen by Deathstroke.

You held your breath as he pressed down with the medicine-covered gauze again, drawing much less of a reaction out of you this time.

“Great mental image, Jay.” You replied, your voice dull. It lacked any of the true bite you wanted to deliver in response to him. “I’m sure it’s such a turn-on thinking about my puss.”

It was meant to be a joke. But even unconsciously, it was an acknowledgement of that dangerous line - the line between truly caring and just using someone for sex. The line between having someone in your life as a body to get off with, and being so… homely with them.

You and Jason were towing that line dangerously. It was a thread that you were balancing on, and it would either break, or you would cross to the other side and be forever bonded to him.

Jason shrugged. “Maybe I don’t have to be turned on by you all the time.”

There was more stuck in his throat. Another dangerous acknowledgement of that line.

‘Maybe I just have to care.’

Both of you lulled into silence because neither of you dared to say it.

After a few moments, Jason put down the gauze and hesitated to reach for the tweezers. He knew that pulling the bullet out would be painful, but inevitable. It was a lot like the state of your relationship with him. Break it off, and find happiness elsewhere, or acknowledge this big thing swelling to fruition between the two of you. Have Jason fuck it up eventually. Painful, but inevitable.

“You shouldn’t have to be hurt like this.” Jason said quietly. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt for my sake.”

There it was again - words with a dangerous double meaning.

You looked up at him, pure pain knit across his face, and for a moment he looked from the tweezers to you and he could hardly stand holding your gaze.

‘It’s worth it.’ You wanted to say. ‘For you, I’d bear any pain.’

The words lived and died behind your eyes, and your tongue decided on something else entirely.

“It’s nothing.” You told him.

You downplayed the pain, pretending that the injury was only a minor inconvenience for you. And in the grand scheme of life, it was. With time, it would heal. Losing Jason would be something you’d never heal from.

Jason shook his head at this statement.

He forced himself to reach for the tweezers then. He handed you his phone, a silent agreement that you would hold the light as steady as you could. He knew you well, too well, and he knew that you needed something else to focus on to push away the pain. He put his free hand on the plush of your stomach, pulling back slightly to hold the wound open while you held the light on it.

When the sharp metal of the tweezers breached your wound, you wanted to swear. You wanted to call him an asshole as the pain shot through you. You wanted to scold him for leaving the Tower and being kidnapped in the first place. But you knew that even if it was playful or sarcastic, fueled by the bite of your pain, it was not what he needed to hear right now. So instead, you held your breath, and gripped his phone hard, keeping the light steady as you bared the sharp shocks of pain.

After a moment of digging around that felt like an eternity, he pulled out the fragment and held it up to show you as you collapsed back against the bed, panting with tears stinging the edges of your eyes.

“It’s not nothing.” He declared sharply.

You couldn’t conjure a response. You knew he was right. And you didn’t want to be forced to admit it.

Instead, you turned off the light from his phone and relaxed into the bed, closing your eyes as he walked around to the trashcan and threw out the bullet fragment. It fell into the bottom of the plastic wastebasket with a very small ‘ping’ - making you wonder how something so small could cause so much trouble.

Jason quickly returned to you, dabbing more disinfectant into the wound in a way that made you groan and flex away from the touch. Once again, he did not apologize.

There were a few moments of muddy silence with nothing but your slightly labored breathing, trying to contain your sounds of pain so as to not make him feel any further guilt about the whole incident.

Your mind churned, and you couldn’t help the next words that came from your mouth.

“I meant what I said.” You told him.

At the sound of this, his hands immediately stilled. You felt his eyes on you, and you forced yourself to open your own and look up at him once again. He stared you down with intense examination. He looked for any ounce of falsity, any sign that you were lying, even posturing to make him feel better after everything that had happened.

He didn’t find any.

You thought he might acknowledge you, that he might say something back to return your mighty words. Instead, he simply reached for more gauze, and began putting a final bandage on your wound.

…

The explosion caused a sharp rattle through your ears. It shocked you and made you dizzy and put the whole world off-kilter. The only thing you could perceive past the mind-numbing hum in your brain was the feeling of Jason’s rough glove gripping tightly onto your wrist, so you gripped back as hard as you could.

When you blinked open your eyes, you were half-hanging out of the open window, the edge of the floor cutting into your waist as you held onto Jason by nothing but his wrist. His whole body weight created a harsh burn, straining on the muscles in your shoulder as you watched him dangle hundreds of feet above the street.

Panic flooded you.

You scrambled to reach out with your other hand, and the moment you moved, your shirt slipped against the sleek, polished material of the floor and you began sliding out the window. You gasped and Jason stilled his panicked flailing immediately.

“Don’t move!” He shouted.

“Give me your other hand so I can pull you up!” You shouted back.

Beyond the unpleasant hum of your eardrums rattling, you still heard chaos behind you. Gunshots, the grunts of fighting, Kory and Dick’s voices yelling. They were busy with Deathstroke, they couldn’t help you or Jason.

Jason looked up at you with glassy eyes.

He knew that with all his gear weighing him down, even with the training you had been doing, you wouldn’t be able to pull him up. Not by yourself. And if you weren’t careful, his body weight would just pull you out of the window and cause you to go tumbling down to your death along with him.

When you saw that frown etch across his lips, that filthy look of dawning - you glared at him.

“Give me your other hand!” You screamed, your voice raking across your throat like hot coals. A hot boiling rage at the fact that he seemed almost determined to die.

There was one thing he was determined about. If he was going to die, he wasn’t going to take you down with him.

His gloved wrist started to slip from your nervous, sweaty palm, and you tried hard to hold on tight. You formed large shards of ice, hoping you could create some kind of bond there by freezing your hand to his. But it would only be temporary with gravity trying to tear the two of you apart.

“You have to drop me, Y/N.” He said, nothing but pure mourning on his lips. “I’m dead weight.”

You both knew it was a horrendous double meaning.

He thought he was a dead weight to your life.

“No!” You immediately defied this thought, that feral rage ripping at your throat once again. “I’m gonna pull you up. I’m gonna pull you up!”

You reached your other hand down and tightly wrapped both of your hands around his wrist, yanking upward. The harsh movement caused you to slide even further out the window. You were now dangling dangerously over San Francisco with only the thickness of your thighs giving you any real stability on the intensely high up floor. It made you dizzy, and the only thing you had to focus on were the wet wells of Jason’s eyes staring up at you.

“It’s no use!” Jason said tearfully.

You ignored him.

You cast your chin over your shoulder, and began shouting.

“Help me!” You screamed, trying desperately to get the attention of Dick or Kory. “Help me! Fuck!”

“You have to let go.”

Jason’s words immediately shifted your focus back to him.

But of course, you refused.

“I’m not letting go of you!” You declared sharply. “Not that easily.”

As he stared up at your tearful eyes, he knew that you meant it as more.

Unfortunately, it was the one thing he was terrified of.

He thought that you saw him as some shiny perfect thing, something good and worth having in your life. He thought that you were incapable of seeing the poison, the true fuck-up that he was. If you didn’t let go of him, sooner or later, just like everyone else in his life, you were going to get burned.

So Jason did what he had to do.

He began prying your fingers off his wrist, trying his best to keep you stable while he forced himself from your grip.

“No!” You shrieked. “No, no, no-”

You didn’t have much room to fight him about it without falling out of the window yourself.

You made a move to readjust, to get a tighter grip on him - and it was the one deadly move that caused him to slip out of your touch completely.

You were forced to watch on in chest clenching horror, blinking through heavy tears as he began hurtling toward the ground.

…

If not for Conner - a literal miracle - swooping in and saving Jason at the last second, then you would have spent the rest of your life regretting those moments, wondering what you could have done differently to save him.

When Jason finished taping down the bandages, making sure the wound was clean and secure, he laid his palm flat on top of it. It was a kind of ‘kissing it better’ that instantly spread warmth curling through your gut. It was a touch so incredibly tender - especially compared to the heated, aggressive groping you were used to from him - that it caused a whimper from the back of your throat.

You knew it was unlikely, but you hoped that he hadn’t heard it.

“All done.” He said quietly.

You instantly felt regret when he took his hand away and began tidying up the medical supplies. But you forced yourself to sit upright, now feeling only muscle soreness and a much duller pain coming from the area. You felt intensely thankful for his care as you pulled your shirt back down, righting your clothes back into place.

“You’re free to go now.” Jason told you, his voice still low, as though a single decibel would shatter the delicate peace between the two of you.

You felt your heart sink.

In an instant, you understood what it was - he was concerned about your physical wellbeing, but he didn’t actually want to have you around. Just like his reaction to you showing up at the hostage exchange - he didn’t want your presence there.

You heaved a sigh and got off the bed as Jason busied himself with gathering up the used gauze to throw it away. As you put your hand on the doorknob, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to leave.

It was something else.

It had to be something else.

Jason hadn’t let himself drop off a building in some desperate ploy just to get away from you. He had been trying to save you.

He was so utterly willing to give his life for yours.

And now he was trying to back down from that.

You turned and faced him, leaving the door closed. When he turned from ditching things in the wastebasket, he froze. He was entirely surprised that you were still there.

The two of you locked eyes, both staying still - like a predator and prey locked in a stalemate, wondering who would run first.

In this situation, you weren’t sure who was the prey.

You were both so vulnerable.

Jason thought it would be selfish to get caught up in all of this, to finally admit those dangerous feelings he had for you. When he cared for things, he usually ended up breaking them. Of course, it was never on purpose - he was an idiot. Everything he touched, he fucked up. He had made that more than evident with his last braindead plan, the outing to prove that he was worthy of being Robin. Something that had gotten you shot, probably could have gotten you killed.

If you stuck with him any longer, you probably would end up being killed. And he would never forgive himself for that.

He would be better off ripping himself from your hold, as much as it hurt. Giving you a dose of that heartbreak now so that you could get over him and go after better things.

As you stared at Jason, you could see all the pain boiling underneath his surface. You wondered what he was thinking, what the hell he was churning over in that intense brain of his - but you didn’t dare to ask.

You knew that he needed to be held right now - in every sense of the word. You knew that he needed to be cared for the way he had cared for your wound, pushing past the pain in order to heal. You wondered if he would lay down and bear it or if he would continue to fight you.

You were the one to bravely step forward. Though Jason was tempted to ask you to leave, that thing inside of him yearning to marinate in his isolation because he deserved it, he pushed it down. He let his hands naturally come to sit on the plush comfort of your waist as you put a gentle touch on both his shoulders, leaning into his body ever so slightly.

You laid your forehead on his cheek, right next to that ugly bruise that had been left on him, and he let out a contented sigh as he felt your warmth envelope him. For the first time since his feet had touched the ground, he felt calm. He felt safe.

You smoothed a hand across his shoulder, and raised your head, using your touch to gently tip his face toward yours. He quickly realized that your intention was to kiss him. And something ached in his heart - something painful and longing. He knew that it would not be needy and haste with the intention of pile-driving toward sex like your other kisses had been. He knew that it would be the metamorphosis of your relationship that he was not prepared to go through.

He nuzzled along your forehead, gently stopping you.

“Please don’t do this.” He murmured quietly into your skin.

He knew that it would break him.

He knew that this was the moment - like Gatsby reaching up toward the stars - this would be the moment that he was tied to you forever, damned by his love for you. Only, much different than Gatsby, he wasn’t destined for some grant fate if he didn’t have you. He was on a one way path to a messy death, and he was determined not to take you down with him.

Tears pricked the edges of his eyes at the thought.

You pulled back, just enough to properly look him in the eyes, and your own tears formed when you saw that pathetic puppy dog looking back at you.

“Why not?” You demanded, much sharper than you intended. You knew he was fragile and you didn’t want to upset him any further than he already was.

“You know why.” He replied, his voice barely scraping above a whisper as the emotion clutched at his throat.

Jason wanted to hold onto you forever, but he was also a realistic person. He expected that any minute now, you would rip away from his arms and charge out the door, entirely angry with him, and this would finally be over. You would finally be safe from him - safe from any nasty fate his life could conjure up for you.

You hated what he was asking of you - asking you not to care for him anymore. As if you could somehow switch it off. Impossible.

“I meant what I said.” You repeated yourself, still entirely firm in this conviction. “I’m not gonna let you go that easily.”

You leaned in, planting your lips on his in a light kiss. A pained sigh ripped through you when he didn’t make any moves to kiss you back.

“Jason, please.” You whimpered out desperately. “If you get to bandage my bullet wound, then I get to do this.”

Jason wanted to spell it all out for you, plain and dirty. He wanted to get angry, he wanted to scream. He wanted to rush along the inevitable. He wanted to tell you what a poison he was to the world, that he deserved to die and you deserved better things. But he had the utmost feeling that you wouldn’t listen.

“Please, stop pushing me away.” You whispered against his lips.

Instead, he listened to your plea. He let himself indulge in this selfish softness for once.

He reached up and grabbed your jaw, pulling you into a firmer kiss, declaring every ounce of passion and terror that he was feeling in those moments. You answered it all right back - digging your fingers into the shoulders of his shirt, letting out a hot huff against his cheek as you leaned into his body.

He would never be perfect - but he was yours.

...

PLEASE NOTE: I do have a sequel in mind for this, but I don't know when I am going to have it finished and posted. Please do not ask me to write more of this or ask me when the sequel will be coming. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work here that I have already written.

#sundrop writes #dc titans #titans fanfiction #titans x reader #dc titans fanfiction #jason todd #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut

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yunarim · 1 year

Note

Going off your "putting a blanket" head canons... If you take requests may I please ask for confessions where the reader says "I love you" in their sleep... Otherwise just ignore this...

「 summary 」 : confessing your love through sleep

♡ referring to this ! — tags : gn reader, fluff, reader wears lip gloss in vil's part, french i'm not sure i used correctly in rook's part (i don't speak french uhm...), flower language in malleus' part, hello kitty stickers in lilia's part bc i'm a fan — song to listen to : 사랑의 말 love words by 첸 CHEN — characters : third-years

— 5k words in total ! [ ao3 link ]

「 Cater Diamond 」 ─ ♡ First time you stumbled upon a Light Music Club meeting was an exciting and enjoyable experience. Not so long after you found yourself hanging out with its members, humming to songs of different genres and even sharing lyrics of your world’s favorite ones.

─ ♡ You realized you’ve become an honorary guest or some sort of a talisman, so passing by and seeing you laughing along members wasn’t something unusual.

─ ♡ And despite you being a whole club’s sweet best friend every student could say you were especially attached to Cater.

─ ♡ Cater himself adored your obliviousness and chuckled every time you let a little delightful laugh at his compliments regarding your outfit choices or the way you edited your photos.

“Aww Yuu, it’s prohibited to be this cute,” Cater would say, his gaze soft and full of genuine adoration.

“Likewise!” You would reply with a gentle smile of yours and squeeze his hand tightly and cause Cater to crush down mentally.

─ ♡ Today you were scrolling through Cater’s playlist and just when you were about to play an EDM catchy song you saw something out of place. Album’s cover got you thinking the mood was rather gentle, something Cater never listened to (or at least you never saw him doing that).

─ ♡ “Hey Yuu, what bop are we vibing to today?” He asked you while checking on his guitar.

─ ♡ “How about we listen to some ballads today?” You suggested, gaining his full attention on you. “If you don’t mind.”

─ ♡ “Sure thing, bring it on!”

Ephemerally tender music instantly covered your giddiness with a gentle embrace, causing you to relax and close your eyes. You felt Cater bending over you to check what song exactly did you play and smiled.

“The stars are spilling, the light is shining on you.”

He almost whispered these lines but you heard him clearly nevertheless, looking up at him, your eyes shining with pure enthusiasm.

“You could sing it as a lullaby and I would fall asleep instantly. Your voice’s so lulling.”

Cater blinked twice, asking himself whether he was imagining things or did you actually say his voice was… lulling. He expected it to be bright and maybe even loud, but lulling? He chuckled, parting his lips and letting out a soft hum.

“Don’t go too far, I’ll be right there.”

You lowered the song's volume and relaxed on the sofa you were sitting on. Sudden drowsiness welcomed you in its embrace, causing you to fall asleep instantly as you’ve mentioned not so long ago.

Cater observed your delicate features, appreciating the way you seemed so serene. He was about to bring you a blanket and concentrate on composing a new song, but you suddenly mumbled something incoherently.

“Cater…” he managed to recognize his name through your murmur. “I…”

He wondered what he was doing in your little dream and how beautiful it would be to enter it and stumble upon you in a somnolent realm, but he was here, wide awake and giggling at your small talks through sleep.

“I love you.”

His heart skipped a beat, making Cater choke on air for a moment. He bent over to make sure you were sleeping and you definitely were. Or was it him who dreamed of you confessing to him and this was a representation of a tempting illusion unfolding before him?

No, it certainly wasn’t an illusion. You smiled through your sleep and he took your hand in his, placing a little kiss on your palm.

“Always, I love you.”

「 Trey Clover 」

─ ♡ Sweet soft cream which was supposed to be used for meringue was all over your face, and you giggled at how apparently silly you looked, but it didn’t matter much when Trey was laughing alongside you.

─ ♡ You almost forgot you volunteered to help Trey prepare everything for tomorrow’s unbirthday party with how often you would find yourself just messing around and entertaining Trey with your stories which to your delight he enjoyed listening to.

─ ♡ He noticed how sloppy and clumsy your movements were, given how diligently you were fulfilling your overseer duties and taking care of the certain duo and Grim during the whole day.

─ ♡ He threw a quick glance at the copybooks you brought, a sympathetic smile blossoming on his face.

─ ♡ First years always have a lot of tedious homework to do but you still tried to have your foot in both camps and when Trey was performing miracles of culinary magic, you tried your best in order to not to lose your concentration.

─ ♡ Apparently, you weren’t doing great.

Something pricked his chest when he noticed how upset you seemed, dissatisfied with your own work, the cream consistency you willingly volunteered to prepare turned too oily and too much sugary.

He took the towel from the hanger and bent over you, wiping the cream off your face.

Goodness, how adorable you were with those sleepy eyes of yours, pouting a little and yet still looking right into his eyes, you shone with pure admiration.

“I’m sorry, I messed up your work…”

Trey sighed, placing his hands on his hips and smiled at you. As much as he wanted to give you a reassuring hug, you two still were… dearest friends, he wished you thought at least that regarding your relationship.

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself. It’s okay. And if you’re wondering how else could you help then, please take a nap, it’s painful for me to see you being so tired and exhausted. Okay?”

“Oh… okay. But when I wake up I’ll make sure you’re not being too hard on yourself too, got it?”

“Alright.”

─ ♡ You made sure no cutlery or ingredients were on the table and leaned on the table, resting your head on your hands and closing your eyes. You haven’t realized how tired you were, your eyelids feeling leaden.

─ ♡ Trey focused on cooking, occasionally throwing glances at you and smiling every time he noticed how sweetly you were snoring.

─ ♡ He started decorating the tart when the colors of the sky outside the window turned into warm orange hues, announcing an upcoming evening.

─ ♡ He almost used orange-colored cream for the rose-shaped meringue decorations since the image of you sleeping peacefully before him reminded him of a golden afterglow.

He noticed one little cream speck on your cheek, admiring how tender you seemed, and pressed his finger to wipe it but you let out an incoherent sound suddenly.

“Ugh…” you said, your lips parting slightly. “Not the tangerine filling…”

Trey chuckled in delight. Truly, you resembled a little child, apparently recalling a memory of you two making tangerine cake. So unbelievably cute.

“I know you liked it though,” he answered in a small whisper, making sure didn’t wake you up.

“Uhm… Trey…” He shuddered for a moment, something tangling in his stomach at the way you voiced his name so delicately, as if he was a porcelain figurine, ready to break if you would pronounce it a bit louder.

He couldn’t dare to say anything, even think about that, completely immersed in your little somnolent speech.

“I love you… even if you insist on using that stupid tangerine filling…”

A finger he forgot he pressed on your cheek caressed it unwillingly, sliding down to your lips. As he realized what the hell was happening, you smiled gently and giggled softly at his movements, still remaining in Morpheus’ arms.

Ah really, what does he do with you being so absolutely precious?

「 Leona Kingscholar 」

─ ♡ Sevens, you were so annoying.

─ ♡ You caused a whole commotion involving Ruggie and Jack in order to try finding Leona since you had oh so important things you wanted to say.

─ ♡ Leona yawned, rolling over on his bed, his tail resting on his right leg.

─ ♡ Actually, your little murmurings weren’t so irritating as he was claiming every time you asked if he was listening to you.

─ ♡ The way you rambled about your friends or another adventure of yours was kind of pleasant, not to mention your voice resembled a lullaby to him, always being so somnific and gentle.

─ ♡ But surely he would rather let that lizard win in a competition or something than let you know how he felt about being around you.

─ ♡ Stupid herbivore, did you just need to be so—

─ ♡ “Leona!! Finally found you!”

─ ♡ Ah, right, you still were annoying, there’s no denying.

You smiled, making your way towards his bed and taking a seat on it, not even asking since by that time there was no need for such foolish waste of air. Leona wasn’t best with wording, so you got through a ton of “are you that stupid?” and “just sit already or I’ll make you leave” from him.

You smelled nice. Something fresh and coniferous, nothing irritating, maybe even alluring. Your eyes shone brightly, so full of energy, a colorful spectrum of a wide variety of emotions splashing within.

The urge to restrain his tail from wagging against his will was overwhelming and now that was stupidly annoying. Herbivore, are you actually trying to make him fall under your non-magical spell, bewitching him and causing him to admit he was genuinely happy to see you?

He just hummed instead, demonstrating you just enough that he was listening.

“Planning to hide from me? I would find you anywhere.”

And you were so hot for that so it was foolish of him not to accept it.

“Uh-huh,” he answered, closing his eyes. You weren’t upset with his behavior, knowing he has acknowledged you. There was no denying you gained his trust just enough for being so disarmed around you, drowsing with his eyes closed when you were so close.

─ ♡ You searching the whole campus trying to find him became a sweet domestic routine you would often find yourself entertaining with.

─ ♡ Also your ramblings about little things that happened with you during the day turned into something so tender and pleasant that Leona would occasionally grab you, standing in the corridor and speaking to someone, so that the whole college assumed you two were dating.

─ ♡ Maybe you really were, and it was he who actually hasn’t realized but no, alas, you never cared to explain what kind of relationship you two had.

“Hey, are you listening?”

Fun thing is, he actually was, but reflecting about you two was so drainful he preferred to remain silent, his tail the only thing replying to you but you were too busy being a little bit angry at him to notice.

“Fine, sleep, you grumpy cat. I’ll make you talk when you get up!”

First, he wasn’t a cat, and second—

You just have to interrupt his thoughts with your adamant behavior, haven’t you?

He felt the warmth of your body spreading next to him when you laid down, closing your eyes with such a silly angry face he chuckled softly.

He knew his bed was comfortable enough to fall asleep instantly, so there was nothing surprising in you actually drifting into Morpheus' arms. He placed his tail on your leg and observed your gentle features, appreciating what he saw.

“Stupid Leona,” Your lips parted suddenly, and you let out an annoyed noise. Even in your sleep you were scolding him for something oh so important.

“As if,” he replied, not even slightly lowering his voice. “We’re matching in that, herbivore.”

“Why am I… ughm…” Sevens, why even your sleep talks were so cute? “Why do I even… love you… so much…”

Oho, what an interesting statement. Good for you he felt the same. He pulled you close to him, closing his eyes and grinning slyly.

“Me too, herbivore. Maybe I wouldn’t even mind listening to you later.”

「 Vil Schoenheit 」

─ ♡ Somehow you gained unreachable at first glance the honorable ‘Vil’s associate’ title. Or accomplice if you will.

─ ♡ Epel would often ask you how the hell you’ve managed to bewitch the witcher, so that not he observed you not with boiling malicious judgment (really, sometimes Epel was so silly for thinking that way) but with hints of approval instead.

─ ♡ But you truly enjoyed being his ‘accomplice’, appreciating Vil’s work ethic when he took you with him to photoshoots or recording studios.

─ ♡ Today was no exception, and you find yourself resting on the coach and minding your own business in order to not distract Vil during his working hours.

─ ♡ You threw a quick glance at him, standing on the other side of a huge glass almost the entire wall length, adjusting the microphone in accordance with his own height.

You’ve seen idols recording songs in the studios like this, looking a bit domestic and sleep deprived at times, but Vil always made sure he was stunning every second he breathed. Still, you blushed when your gaze flickered over his collarbones, revealing ever so slightly under a faint cerulean-colored blouse. Pleasant warmth spreading on your face caused you to avert your eyes, letting out a little sigh. He was so ethereal in such light colors, you wondered if he ever heard you murmuring to Rook and Epel how fantastically dreamy he seemed, a pristine fairy descended from the pages of ancient fables.

─ ♡ And yet, he was the Vil Schoenheit. A model, an actor, a singer, and first of all, your dearest friend you admired the most. You were sure there was no place for your silly crushes or whatsoever, so you just forced a smile and showed thumbs up when Vil glanced at you before starting recording.

─ ♡ His clear yet audacious voice was so alluringly beautiful so you felt spellbound, dissolving in his new song lines, and closed your eyes, letting his voice guide you straight into sweetest dreams.

An hour passed, and Vil went to the room you were resting in, filling a cup of tea with hot water and taking a seat beside you. You bowed your head in an unnatural position so that Vil was sure you'd be rubbing your neck from the pain on the way home, so he put a pillow under your head, fixing disheveled hair locks from your face.

You were divine in his own eyes. You seemed so natural, so normal and so right beside him.

Vil’s colleague passed by, not even making a try to stop staring at the image of Vil slowly caressing your cheeks and drinking tea casually like it was his daily routine. Vil took a book out of his bag he entrusted you, adjusting your hand rested on the top of it, not noticing how corners of his lips turned upward at the thought of you diligently keeping your duties.

“Mhm…” you mumbled through your sleep, causing Vil to take a glance at you.

You unconsciously snuggled closer to him, carefully touching his perfectly ironed blouse with your fingers even in your sleep.

He allowed you that silly move, chuckling softly and returning his gaze to the book. He wondered if you admitted you were so comfortable around him in your conscious state, too.

“Vil…” you muttered under your breath and he turned to you, making sure you were still sleeping.

He noticed smeared gloss on your parted lips and smiled, slightly cupping your cheek in his hand.

“Yes, dear?” He replied, fascinated by your behavior.

“Ugh… I love you…”

Ah, really. He smiled and decided he needed to fix your gloss, leaving an ephemeral kiss at the corner of your lips.

「 Rook Hunt 」

─ ♡ Ah, look at you being so insanely cute!

─ ♡ He found you in the Pomefiore ballroom, practicing dance moves since you agreed to help Vil with being backup dancer in a new Film Studies Club’s upcoming project.

─ ♡ You sighed, straightening your posture and turning music on, again and again returning to the very beginning. Apparently you had a problem with one little movement you kept on ruining.

─ ♡ You were the only one who thought that, while Rook observed you from the entrance. Fingers pressed to his chin, a joyful smile blossoming with delight splashing in his eyes.

─ ♡ You were absolutely stunning even with sweat drops running down your pretty neck.

You howled in frustration as you stood in front of the mirror and took a deep breath. Rook could hear you counting beats in your head, your hands went up in a sudden movement, and you made the same mistake again, skipping a beat and looking quite down.

As you wanted to try again he approached you, delicately taking your hands in his when you did the same move again, and you gasped a little, turning to him and giggling softly, your voice being a pristine bluebell ringing.

“Rook!” You exclaimed, averting your gaze. Oh, you were so sweaty and exhausted, probably not the best version of yourself to present to him, but Rook viewed you as an absolute divine being, so vivid and blissful.

“Good evening, petite hirondelle,” your hands still were in his. Rook smiled at the pinkish hue dusting your soft cheeks. “Working to the bone as usual?”

“Not really,” you sighed. “I’ve been making the same mistake for an hour or so…”

“I know the way to help you solve this problem,” now that Rook piqued your interest he slightly swirled you, as if in a waltz, and grabbed you by the waist, making you sit on the coach.

“H-hey,” you protested. “I still need to practice more, I can’t be slacking off!”

“My my,” he chuckled, pressing his finger to your lip. “You sure are quite stubborn, aren’t you? Although it warms my heart to see you so persistent about your activities, I’m not telling you to slack off, my dear. I'm advising you to take a rest.”

You thought that maybe he was right. Your eyelids felt heavy, not to mention the sore in your hands after dancing for so long.

“Worry not, I’ll be there to help you when you wake up.”

“Alright, but I’m not planning on taking a nap! I’ll just rest… for a while…”

─ ♡ He chuckled at how fast your consciousness drifted away, your body relaxing after some time you’ve been fighting with yourself in order to not to fall asleep.

─ ♡ Rook smiled in delight looking at your gentle sleepy features and was ready to find a blanket to cover you with, but you suddenly jolted in your sleep, grabbing his hand and mumbling something demandingly.

“Ugh, Rook!..” Your little murmurs were so cute that Rook covered his mouth with his hand, trying to restrain himself from giggling.

“Yes, dear, I’m listening,” he tried answering just out of curiosity. Your furrowed brows were so adorable, not to mention a little pout he was so fond of.

“I… I love you… Let’s… date maybe… mhm..”

Oh Sevens, your words were a pure blessing for him. A sudden sparkle of joy flared up within him, and he didn’t notice how blush covered his cheeks a little, matching him with you.

“What a sweet confession,” he whispered, caressing your cheek, and smiled, deciding to wait for you to wake up and hear those words when you would look straight into his eyes and confess once again.

「 Idia Shroud 」 ─ ♡ Well well… First two hours of having you in his room turned Idia into a blubbering furiously blushing mess, his disheveled hair flickering, bright red sparks fell on your skin, but in the end you found yourself playing with them and enjoying the warmth they radiated.

─ ♡ You didn’t even remember how the hell you made your way into his room and how in the world did you manage to convince him to play games with you.

─ ♡ A vague memory of you claiming you needed his help to beat a new boss in the DLC you bought not so long ago and now it was terrorizing you during sleepless nights, the boss still remaining quite alive and kicking, your ass ahem not letting you to make it any further.

─ ♡ Idia wasn’t opposed to the idea of helping you beat the boss, given he was insanely good with the combat system, but was that necessary to come here?!

─ ♡ Sevens, you were a cuteness hazard, just how could you…

“Dude, you’re hot for hitting those crits, I’m impressed. Like, literally hot.”

“One more shitty pun like this and I’m kicking you out of my room.”

“You already said that a few hours ago when I first came!”

“Jeez just sit still and watch!”

─ ♡ How shameless you were, calling him hot like it was something ever so usual to voice out loud.

─ ♡ And that was extremely hot of you to do, there was no denying.

─ ♡ Ugh, really, he knew he was socially awkward, but he had absolutely no idea about how to… get closer to you at least for a little?

─ ♡ You were so stunning and gorgeous, always making him laugh and being here when he was feeling down, there was no escape route for him to run away from getting a pretty obvious crush on you.

Of course you wouldn’t want him having him as your boyfriend, or even a friend. He had a pessimistic way of thinking, and yet you were here in his room, laughing along with him and making sure he wasn’t slouching too much so his back wouldn’t hurt and cheering him up when the boss’ attacks were hitting hard.

His fingers hurriedly clicked on the console, the combo of punches increased in number, and he was incredibly close to victory.

“Ha! What did you even say about this boss being hard to beat? You just don’t know how— EGH?!”

He felt your forehead thud on his shoulder, and he jolted, screaming in fear.

“Hey?!” He exclaimed, not daring to look at you, the game boss's life indicator kept decreasing on a thin strip. “What the!..”

He suddenly heard you snoring and realized you fell asleep. Seriously, just how did you manage to relax in his presence so that Morpheus took you in his gentle arms that easily?

“Mhm…” you mumbled, not even noticing through your sleep what you actually fell on. “Hey, Idia…”

“What?!” He wondered for a mere second how the hell haven’t you heard him screaming but replied to you nevertheless, the boss was almost over.

“I… I love you…”

“OH SEVENS YOU WHAT?!”

You woke up instantly, gasping and mumbling something incoherently, your eyes staring at the red “YOU DIED” spreading over the screen.

“I just fell asleep and you’re losing already, oh my goodness!.. Hey, what’s with your cheeks? Are you okay?”

Idia didn’t even dare to think what kind of shade of red his cheeks AND his hair were.

「 Malleus Draconia 」

─ ♡ The weather was getting warmer with every new day, presenting an absolutely divine view.

─ ♡ Ramshackle dorm had its own garden, once being beautiful, you supposed, but unfortunately after surviving an extremely cold winter and even rare flowers withered, turning into wrinkled dark petals, causing you only melancholy and sadness.

─ ♡ So you thought you would renovate it all by yourself, thankfully, Sam had flower seeds of all kinds in his shop.

─ ♡ By the current time of the year you already did a great job, and now you were watering a kaleidoscope of multi-colored flowers, the delicate aroma of which instilled inspiration and cheerfulness in you.

Bright green familiar sparks shone under the rays of the golden sun, and you carefully tried to touch them, smiling to yourself and giggling softly, gesturing a greeting to your beloved visitor.

“Good morning, Tsunotarou,” you almost whispered since there was no need to speak loudly.

Green sparkles dissolved, and with a bright flash Malleus appeared before you, giving you a gentle smile.

“Good morning indeed,” he answered, taking his seat beside you when you put the watering can on the ground and sat down on the bench.”I hope I didn’t distract you, child of man.”

“Never,” you replied, appreciating your work and smiling, feeling a little giddy at his appearance.

─ ♡ Malleus’ presence brought calm and peace to you, somehow his only existence could put your thoughts at ease, and you would often find yourself wondering how could you thank him for that.

─ ♡ Little did you know you were already enough with those delightful smiles of yours and all the hard work you put into renovating Ramshackle dorm.

“You’re always so observant with everything you do, child of man. I feel honored to feel so enchanted by the way you manage to impress me.”

“Y-you’re flattering me, Tsunotarou…”

He chuckled at you, who blushed beside him heavily, trying to hide your happy smile.

The silence that suddenly fell between you was not oppressive. You often enjoyed each other's quietness, gestures and glances served as ways of communication instead, so you fixed your eyes on the garden, feeling warmth spreading on your skin under the soft sun rays, and closed your eyes.

“Do you know what white hyacinths and gypsophila mean, child of man?”

Malleus turned his head to you, finding you already asleep. He wouldn't dare to touch you when you were so vulnerable, so he just fixed his gaze on you; an unfamiliar, but apparently unobtrusive sense of calmness bloomed in his chest.

He observed your slightly parted lips and the way your cheeks turned a bit reddish, and wondered why you were so…

“Precious,” he whispered suddenly, his hand stopping midair when you giggled through your sleep, your head suddenly on his shoulder.

“Malleus…” you voicing out his name was something new. He never even thought his own name he heard pronounced in fear, with coy respect or acrid contempt, would sound so tender and genuinely sweet…

He remained silent, finally daring to draw his hand to your chin, caressing it gently.

“The flowers…” you whispered, a little smile appearing on your face after you leaned to his touch. “I hope you… like them..”

“I do enjoy them, thank you, child of man,” he was wondering how far he could go now, since with every word you said something flashed in his chest with a bright firework of joyful emotions.

“Mhm… Love you, Malleus…”

Ah.

He stopped for a mere second before parting his own lips and deciding he couldn’t resist anymore, so he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, apparently waking you up.

“H-huh!.. W-what?..”

“Child of man, let's plant amaranth camellias and lots of forget-me-nots. Together, if you will.”

“Ah? Sure, let’s?..”

He chuckled, taking your hand in his and placing a little kiss on your knuckles. ─ ✿ white hyacinths - constancy. "I'm enchanted forever". gypsophila - caution, timidity. red camelias - passion. "You are the flame in my heart". forget-me-not - memories, true love, sincerity.

「 Lilia Vanrouge 」

“Have you ever tried dying your hair another color?”

─ ♡ What an interesting human being you were!

─ ♡ You were sitting in front of him while he was playing something uncomplicated on the guitar after you gave him your Hello Kitty stickers to decorate it with.

─ ♡ You always wondered how his aesthetic would change if he had bright blue strands or what could happen if he dyed it green?

─ ♡ He would become an embodiment of the Diasomnia whole aesthetics!

“No,” he replied, throwing a quick curious glance at you. “Wanna try dying it for me?”

“Right now?” You gasped and jumped off the chair he suggested you sit on. “For real?”

“Sure thing, sweetie, we just need to find hair dye… I bought it one day.”

─ ♡ After searching his room for hair dye and finding piles of other items of inexplicable nature, it wasn’t even clear what they were intended for, you found red paint and exclaimed triumphantly.

─ ♡ You did all the preparations and made him sit before you, you bending over him and working carefully as if Lilia’s life depended on you.

─ ♡ He closed his eyes, entrusting himself to you, and smiled slyly. Sevens, you were so adorable with that concentrated look in your eyes and careful movements your hands made.

─ ♡ He giggled slightly, causing you to almost freak out because a few bright red drops touched his cheeks, and you had to wipe it with a towel you also found in his drawer.

“How the hell do you look so gorgeous even when your hair is like that? Not to mention the foil pieces.”

“Aww so you do admit I’m gorgeous~”

“Ergh, of course you are!..” You averted your gaze, pouting and trying to hide a sudden blush covering your cheeks. “Anyway! Let’s wait for a while.”

You jumped on his bed, which has become an absolutely usual thing for all the time of your ... let's call it friendship, although neither you nor Lilia obviously regarded your relationship as an ordinary friendship.

The painstaking process of coloring Lilia's hair took a huge amount of energy from you, so that you didn't even notice how suddenly your head was on his pillow, and he chuckled coquettishly, coming up to you and sitting next to you.

“Ho, falling asleep already? Aren’t you in charge of the whole dying process?”

“I’m not falling asleep, you’re seeing things,” you replied with your eyes closed and voice trembling at how tired you were.

Lilia chuckled, slightly poking your cheek and smiling to himself. Goodness, he just couldn’t resist, given how incredibly adorable you were.

Soon enough he found you sleeping peacefully on his bed and planned to wash the dye out of his hair but you mumbled something unexpectedly.

“H-hey, Lilia…” you whispered through your sleep and he turned to you.

“Hm? I’m all ears.”

He approached you, floating midair and wondering how you even managed to fall asleep when the acrid smell of hair dye filled the room.

“I have a shampoo… in my bag…” he giggled at your words. “Take it… I… mhm..”

“Thanks, love,” he answered playfully, actually forgetting where did you place your bag and remaining still to entertain himself a little bit more. No, really, having such a cute friend could be considered a crime.

“Uh-huh…” you replied. “Love you too.”

Now that was interesting. Lilia refrained from pressing his lips to you at that very moment, only for the simple reason that the hair dye smell was still strong enough to wake you up if he moved even a millimeter closer to you.

“Ah really?” He asked instead, a long forgotten feeling of genuine love blossoming in his chest reviving at the moment. “You mean it?”

“Mhm…” you looked so grumpy and adorable. “Love you.”

He touched his finger to his lips, and then pressed it against yours, as if conveying an ephemeral kiss, and covered you with a blanket.

— author's note : i'm sorry for working on this request for so long i hope it would suffice! thank you sm for requesting <33

— tag list : @isacoremeow

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #cater x reader #trey x reader #leona x reader #vil x reader #rook x reader #idia x reader #malleus x reader #lilia x reader

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