#why are you getting upset over something like that??? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

endearng · 1 day ago

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Out of reach

Pairing: earlyseasons!Spencer Reid x hotchner!fem!reader Summary: You pull away from Spencer because of your jealousy. You go back to him after a few drinks in. WC: 9k A/N: fluff! pining! idiots/friends to lovers! alcohol consumption; spencer is a bit mean; reader doesn't communicate; hotch is a little older to have a daughter around spencer's age (do not come at me this is fiction). If I missed anything, please let me know! I had so much fun writing this one and it's now one of my favorites <3 masterlist

The jet was quiet as you and the BAU team made your way back from Los Angeles after successfully finding Lila Archer's stalker. The case had been a bit draining, after all, you've only been working with the FBI for a couple of months, and seeing dead bodies and all those other displays of violence was something you were still trying to get used to. Despite your sensitive nature, being Aaron Hotchner's daughter meant that you had mastered the art of a poker face through the years, not that it meant that your inner feelings were any less important. This is how you found yourself sitting all alone in a corner of the jet as everyone minded their own business. On any other day, you'd be sitting next to Dr. Spencer Reid, talking about whatever it was that could get your mind off the case you had just wrapped up. Spencer and you were friends, some would even say the best of friends, but you didn't mind about naming things — what mattered the most is that you got to be yourself around him and you didn't bother hiding behind the Hotchner glare, as he once put it.

Despite being unknown territory for you, after all, feelings and all that were protected by a deeply analytic and practical mind, you knew what you were feeling. Well, you were analyzing your reactions to check what had actually happened — and the thing is, you couldn't admit, not even to yourself, what that sinking feeling in your chest when you watched Spencer saying goodbye to Lila was. Amid your analysis, Spencer quietly approached you, silently motioning to the seat next to you. You nodded, shutting every single thought of him. Or at least, trying.

"Hi."

Hotch glare. "Hi, Reid."

Spencer felt nervous. He had never been on the receiving end of your… wrath before, so it was unknown territory and he didn't know how to act. His racing heart and clammy palms weren't helping him, either. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Listen, um, you... can... can we talk?" The stammering. Way to go, Spencer.

Glancing at him, ignoring the skip in your heartbeat, you nodded. "Yeah. Is everything alright?" A firm, secure tone. You mentally patted yourself on the back.

"You're a little distant... and—and I got a bit worried. Did... Did something happen?" He wanted to kick himself. What kind of person can't hold a serious conversation without stuttering like an idiot? Get a grip, Reid.

"No, Reid. Everything is alright. I'm just... thinking." You said.

Bullshit. You both knew that. Spencer, on the other hand, didn't know why it was bullshit. But he knew it was.

"Are you sure?" He asked, leaning towards you, almost invading your personal space and he shut his eyes before delivering the next question, "Is... I haven't done anything to upset you? Right?"

You took a second to answer him, willing your voice to stay still and the knot in your throat to go away. "No. It's nothing you've done. It's just... it's on me." You gave him a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes — that's when he knew something was definitely wrong.

He nodded, but he was still worried by your sudden change of behavior, especially towards him. It was like he was anyone else, again. And, God, he didn't want that. "What is it, then? You can talk to me, you know. We're best friends."

Best friends.

The words felt bitter on his tongue. The sound of them broke your heart all over again.

Best friends. "Right. Yeah. I know." You said, quietly, and it felt a little lifeless to him. He clenched his hand, fighting the urge to touch you, to ask you what was truly bothering you. "Thanks for offering."

Spencer felt conflicted. If he didn't say anything and didn't push you to speak, you would probably bury whatever it was that you were feeling and it would lead him into being even more worried about you. If he did, you would probably snap at him because of his undesired, bothersome insistence. "It's nothing." He said, defeatedly. "Can you just... Do you promise it's not me?"

Your heart ached and you smiled at him, a tiny, faint, barely there smile. He was so adorable, sometimes. "I'm just upset over something else. Don’t worry. You didn't do anything wrong." You finished, trying to convince yourself that he had not, indeed, done something wrong.

And he didn't. He didn't. You and Spencer, despite your proximity and sometimes incredibly ambiguous relationship, hadn't said anything about deeper feelings towards one another. You let yourself admire him, lovingly, from afar, and were happy with the snippets of attention you had from him when you two had some free time. You two were regulars in the coffee shop near his apartment and, by now, the local librarian, Mrs. Jones, could probably fake your signature from how often you two went there to borrow books. She would watch you two behind the bookshelves, whispering excitedly and curiously to each other about whatever suggestions you were getting from each other. As you missed Spencer's longing glances to read a summary, Mrs. Jones smiled to herself, both at how adorable you two were and how oblivious you were. In museums, you would sit down after some time walking around to his explanations of art and historical movements that impacted the expression of a certain age — you pretended to not know a few things, just so he could speak his heart away and not be interrupted by your own contributions.

You kept silent to make him happy.

Which was exactly what was happening now.

Spencer knew, for sure, that you were hiding something from him. But he also knew that he had no right to force it out. He fidgeted awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands, his heart still clenching. “But, but... you’d come to me if you needed help, right?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You knew you were wrong, omitting things from him. Just as the guilt was starting to weigh in your heart, Derek passed by you two with a magazine in his hands, throwing it at Spencer, exclaiming, "My man!"

You looked down, already knowing what it was. Spencer was a mess beside you: blushing, stuttering, avoiding your and Derek's gaze and throwing the magazine as far as he could, like it had burned him. Your reaction was a subtle twitch of your lips, not in amusement, but in need to disguise the pang in your heart. You both spent the rest of the flight sitting in silence, simply being in each other's orbit. You, guiltily. Spencer, worriedly.

Your reaction — or lack of — was staggering to Spencer. He thought you two were getting somewhere, despite your closed off nature and demeanor, he thought he was finally cracking you up. Everyday was torture, seeing you walk through the bullpen's glass doors with your professional clothes and your composed figure. It was torture to see you walk around so prettily and serious, holding his bare heart in your hands, and not even realizing it. By now, he lived and thrived on those rare opportunities you had to spend time together as he became more and more covered in you.

As the jet landed and Spencer walked out to talk to Derek, you pettily made sure to step on Lila Archer's face when leaving the jet in sheer frustration.

Back to the bullpen, you had gone to the restroom to splash some water on your face in order to calm your nerves and to tell yourself that it was only a matter of time until things got back to normal — until you got back to normal. Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you wondered if Spencer could tell that there was something wrong with you, if you had let any of your feelings slip during your short conversation. The version of you that stared back was as impassible as you ever were. As you made your way to your desk in the dimly lit sea of desks, you caught Spencer and Derek talking, both having their backs to you.

Sighing, you just left the headquarters, not wanting to know what they were discussing, or rather, knowing what they were discussing, but unwilling to stay, even if it would quench your curiosity as to what Spencer had been thinking.

Maybe you didn't want to know the answer.

—

The days went by, cases coming left and right, flights making you almost dizzy — not that you would admit, but you were terrified of heights. Between those and your training, you barely had time to think about Spencer and the entire Lila occasion. You spent your days busy with work, studies and physical training in order to keep your mind away from that, but as you lay awake at night, the memories would come back to haunt you relentlessly to the point you had recurring dreams of them. Together, as you watched from the sidelines. You kept to yourself, slipping further and further away from Spencer.

Reid, on the other hand, felt your absence more than anyone. You took a rain check on all the invitations he made, even when he invited you to movie night, when he would definitely choose a Russian movie because you mentioned once how you liked how the language sounds. There wasn't any more donuts on his desk as he arrived in the morning (he would always joke that you and your father secretly lived in the headquarters and that someday he would see Haley bringing your groceries to the secret house), and there was no one for him to throw his paper airplanes, small flashcards with the Russian phonological alphabet, at. The change in your behavior was absurdly clear to everyone: you barely called or texted him anymore, you didn't look his way when someone told a joke to check if he thought it was funny... He was sulking, to say the least. Upon questioning you, you blamed your lack of free time and as he was going to question you further, you said in a teasing tone that not everyone was like him and that the FBI was actually making you go through all the training phases.

Finally, during the end of a particularly frustrating workday, he finally snapped, grabbing your arm before you could enter the elevator. It was only you and him in the otherwise empty hallway. "Ok. What's been going on? And don't," he said, closing his eyes, "don't dance around the subject. Don't say it's the Academy. Don't say you have to work. Don't. Please, be honest with me."

The exasperation in his eyes and in his tone almost broke the wall that hid your true feelings, but as you glanced at him, you figured you couldn't do it. Be honest? What for? To hear that you're nothing more than his best friend? Losing said friend was not an option, not to you, at least. But you also knew that you weren't treating him right, that keeping him out was not at all fair to him, that leaving him in the dark was as hurtful as it would be to lose him.

Breathing deeply, you answered with the same stoic expression you wore every single damn day. "I told you, Reid. People go through different, busier times in their lives." The lie tasted like acid.

Spencer clenched his teeth, frustration and confusion beginning to override some of his social anxieties. “That! That!” He asked through clenched teeth, his gaze intense.

"That what?" You asked, puzzled.

"You... you stopped calling me 'Spence'—not that you did it often, you did it more when we were all alone, and it... it sucks! It sucks because I don't know what happened or what I did that was so wrong to make you stop liking me!"

Come on, just say something! Get angry, get sad, get something!, his mind screamed.

"I never stopped liking you," you said, looking away from him. His words hit a particular spot that you were totally willing to discover later, but the mere thought that he knew that you liked him more than as a friend made you shiver.

"That's not the point! Or—or rather, it is! Because if you didn't stop liking me, why would you act like you did?" He asked, his tone rising a bit.

"Calm down."

"Calm down? I will not calm down!" He almost yelled. His eyes widened slightly, disbelief clear in his features and tone, not to mention the frustration. "Just. Please.” He said, closing his eyes, willing himself to tone it down, not that it worked... “Tell me what you're thinking, what happened to you! For once! Any normal person would react and stop acting like an emotionless robot!"

You gaped like a fish out of water, taking a small step back, his words digging a hole in your heart. Upon hearing his own words and noticing you distancing yourself from him, all the anger vanished from his body. The widened eyes were a sign of realization of what he had said to you. During the early months of friendship, you had confided in him that you struggled with portraying emotion like others normally did. Maybe it had something to do with growing up with a father who did it so perfectly when he was out of the house. When he wasn't actively playing the ‘dad’ part, Aaron Hotchner would wear an unreadable mask like it was his armor, his defense from the outer world, but as soon as he got home, he was back to his main role. You would watch him with his coworkers and mimic him perfectly to make him laugh. At some point, making fun of and imitating his demeanor had become some serious form of self-defense for you. Spencer, then, joked that you were making your way to the perfect job, but then he had gotten serious and told you that it wasn't a flaw. That it wasn't a problem that you kept deeply to yourself sometimes — that it was okay to be yourself around him. You had felt safe by his side since then.

But now, what did those words mean? Were they lies?

He breathed out your name, softly, "I... I... I'm sorry."

"Just drop it," you replied, pushing the elevator button. Your dismissive tone and your action of leaving made Spencer feel utterly desolate, like he had done the wrongest thing in the world and perhaps he had, but he just wanted you to let him in. For once, he wanted to have the answers from your lips, not spend any more time analyzing your every single action and words...

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"You know, Spencer…" he looked up at you when he heard his name, as you held out an arm to hold the elevator doors open. As if thinking better than to say anything, you sighed and turned to enter the elevator, shaking your head with the most disappointed look he had ever seen on your face.

Spencer tried looking at you one last time before the elevator doors closed, and despite your face being as unreadable as it often was, he saw a flicker of sadness that stung his heart more than he liked to admit. If he hadn't done anything wrong before, now he had utterly fucked everything up.

—

The drive home, for Spencer, was a torture. He knew that he had to pay attention to the road ahead of him, to the other vehicles and drivers, but his mind kept drifting to the last glimpse of you back in the headquarters. Your empty eyes appeared behind his eyelids every time he pressed his eyes closed. He willed himself not to cry, to not blur his vision, taking his frustration out on the steering wheel, where his grip was so tight that his knuckles turned white. As he parked his car and looked up to one of his windows, he remembered you. Because of course he would remember you.

The sight was almost comical, to be honest. You, clad in one of the suits that fitted you so well, sitting on his windowsill, a cup of green tea in hands as you stared out the window, trying to analyze every single drop of rain before it reached somewhere outside your vision range. The funny thing was that you had no shoes on, instead, Spencer lent you a mismatched pair, not being one used to having people over, he didn't have a pair of spare slippers. Then, you sat there with a dinosaur-pattern sock on one foot and a striped-pattern sock on the other.

Spencer, sitting on his sofa and holding his own cup (he had let you choose your mug and stayed quiet when you pointed quietly at his favorite), smiled to himself. It was weirdly calming seeing you out of your character, doing something so... human.

"I can feel you staring, you know," you said. And your tone was almost... teasing?

"Right. Sorry." He said, looking down at his steaming tea.

"I'm not scolding you," you said, turning to look at his direction with a grin.

"Right, no—heh..." he replied, bashfully, cheeks reddening at the sight of your smile.

If only you knew... how many hours he would lay awake at night, as thoughts swirled in his head, how everything seemed to shut down at the thought of you. How he would fall asleep to the wish of being on the receiving end of one of your rare smiles, how he appreciated that you were always the first one he talked to upon his arrival at the headquarters. How... how he would do anything for you to look at him under a different light.

Seemingly out of nowhere, you giggled. Everything stopped.

Spencer.exe has stopped working.

"Heheh—I guess... It's not everyday you get to see a Hotchner so out of its—heheh—habitat." You quipped, looking at him with a smile on your face.

Suddenly, Spencer lost his voice. The connection between his brain and his tongue, which felt heavy, disappeared. Completely speechless, eyes slightly wide at the sound of your laughter. It made you laugh a bit more, but when his stare and open mouth got too much to handle, you looked down at your feet, wiggling your toes to distract yourself from the intensity of his gaze full of awe. Then, Spencer got back to his senses, smiling at you as you missed it to look away in embarrassment.

Spencer blinked away the tears and left his car, entering his apartment. As he took off his shoes, he let the tears fall at the sight of your windowsill.

—

Meanwhile, you were getting wasted at some bar. Not just any bar, but the one you usually went with Spencer when you were feeling daring and wanted a change from the places where you both used to go to. You were a bit of a lightweight, so a couple of drinks were enough for you to start playing trivia with Spencer and let your gaze linger for longer, basking in the sight of him so carefree, having fun with you.

Upon your arrival, the bartender that usually took care of your orders, MJ, greeted you with a smile. When she saw no one was joining you, she frowned. "Good evening, Hotch. Where's loverboy?"

You sent her a look, but since you were letting your guard down, after all, there were no acquaintances or friends around, you didn't know if the look came out as a glare or if you looked like a kicked puppy. She snorted. "Gee... That bad, huh?" She asked, and you didn't answer again, though you muttered a soft thanks, MJ when she gave you your go-to drink.

And it turned into two drinks. Three. Four...

(MJ was now giving you alcohol-free drinks, too worried for your well-being. You and Spencer started to grow on her as you two kept coming back.)

You rested your chin on your left hand while you traced patterns with your right index finger on the counter. MJ was eyeing you suspiciously, drying a few glasses with a washcloth. "He kissed another girl." You admitted, quietly.

"No way." She gasped.

"Way."

"But... I thought you two were a thing." MJ was baffled, placing down the objects she was holding in sheer shock. "I always thought you two were like... together for years."

"We were a thing.... I think, at least... I don't know, MJ." You sighed, tucking a stray of hair behind your ear. Looking up at her, hazy eyes taking in her focused expression, you sniffled, "we were on this case and then he met a girl and then the next moment the two of them were making out in a pool. In a freaking pool."

She tsked, anger flashing in her eyes, "I swear, those nerdy guys are the worst."

"Yeah..." You muttered, fiddling with your straw. "Can I have another one?"

She pursed her lips, but she relented. Then, as she handed you the liquid, a guy sat next to you. Did he look like Spencer or were you already hallucinating?

"Hi. I'm Dave. Can I buy you a drink...?" He asked with a small smile, wanting to know your name.

No, not Spencer. It’s cool.

"Hi, I..."

MJ cut you off. "Hey, Dave, I think she had too much to drink already."

They exchanged looks and it took you a minute to feel offended by her interruption and knowing you were perfectly capable of speaking for yourself, but realizing you would probably have to entertain a stranger, you felt grateful for it.

Dave left with a sour smile. "Thanks." You muttered, again, looking at MJ.

"Do you need me to get you a cab, honey?"

"That would be great." You said, placing money bills to pay for your drinks and the tip.

MJ looked around to spot someone to keep an eye on the bar as she led you out of the place, hand never leaving your shoulder. As she called a cab, she made you stand on only one leg to make sure you weren't gonna need her to go with you. You scoffed, but obeyed her all the same, with a low snicker. As you two waited for the cab driver, a woman who MJ trusted with her life (and her favorite regulars), you tried to make conversation to make up for embarrassing yourself by talking about Spencer with someone. How pathetic.

"So, what does MJ stand for?"

She chuckled, shaking her head at you and at your dazed eyes. "That's classified information."

"I'm familiar with that."

The cab driver, Paula, arrived. She greeted the both of you with a smile and a cheerful good evening! As you entered the vehicle, you rolled the windows down and pressed the subject further, "Seriously, is it Mary Jane or were your parents more creative?"

She rolled your eyes at you, shaking her head. "It's Mary Jane. MJ because who would take me seriously?"

You smiled. "I like the shoes!"

Paula started driving slowly, just to let other drivers drop their own passengers, as you were lost in your own little world, serious expression taking over your face again, not wavering, as you delved deeper into the whirlwind of thoughts plaguing your head. Paula, looking at you through the rear-view mirror, asked, "Is everything okay, honey?"

You buckled your seatbelt. "Yes, yes. Just... keep driving slowly, please."

"Where to?"

Only then you realized you never gave her an address. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you gave her Spencer's, telling her you were going home.

—

An unknown number had sent Spencer a couple of messages.

[8:32 p.m.] Lovergirl is here, drinking all by herself.

[8:32 p.m.] Water, but still. I'm not having her passed out without you here.

[8:40 p.m.] Sent her home, people were starting to approach.

Throughout the time he had spent with you at the bar, the two of you exchanged numbers with MJ in case she needed your help — you know, being FBI agents and whatnot. But Spencer didn't need to see her name to know it was her and she was talking about you; 'lovergirl' and 'passed out without you here' gave him clue enough. His stomach tied in knots when he read that people were starting to approach her, the nagging feeling that the image conjured in his mind was making him feel almost sick, then, it hit him like a truck: Lila Archer.

Their… case? was as fleeting as a careless glance. To be honest, Spencer accepted her advances to spite you for having such power over him, even if unknowingly so. The young agent felt like you were so out of his league, so out of reach — you were all that pile of confidence and stoicism and pure lusciousness and everything to him. And he was a young guy who truly had barely been kissed so far. How could he approach you, charm his way into your heart, especially when you barely bared it? With Lila, it was... nice. Easy, even. It was nice being wanted, to be able to read her intentions and desires like a children's book. With you, it was a tantalizing challenge, one he was, for the first time, struggling with. It was not like having a high-school crush, not like pining over the untouchable girls that would catch his interest as he grew older. No. This was something new. You had hit him deeper than ever or anyone before.

Plus, as much as he hated to admit it, he gave room to the anxious thoughts regarding your father as well. Would it affect his relationship with his superior? Would it affect your relationship with your father? Spencer felt dizzy just by the mere thought of ruining something uniquely yours. No, he couldn't impose himself on your life like that. It was mean, it was wrong, it was immoral.

To want, to desire, is to be selfish.

It was a bold assumption. To think you were jealous of him. Nevertheless, the signs were all there, had been all along. He was just dumb and scared enough of making assumptions.

A barely there, faint sound of a knock on his door made Spencer fly out of his bed, dropping his phone on the bedroom floor, but he didn't pick it up. He had a suspicion as to who could be knocking on his door, but he was too scared of assuming anything. Again. Opening the door, he saw you, breathing a bit heavily. The stairs, he supposed. You always complained about them. Once you exchanged looks, Spencer’s surprised one and your earnest one, you asked, "Do you really think I'm a robot?"

Shit. He could feel his heart breaking in a million little pieces. The insecure edge of your voice and words made him squeeze his eyes shut; in his mind, he was kicking himself simultaneously as he sank down to his knees, on your feet, begging you to forgive and forget his dumb, stupid, frustrated, unrealistic words.

"No," he breathed out, wincing, almost as if he was in physical pain. "I—I didn't mean to talk about you like that. I was..."

"Frustrated?"

He nodded, silently, eyes never leaving your face. Your speech, albeit way out of the ordinary that he was used to, was flawless. If not by the dilated pupils and the faint smell of alcohol, not to mention MJ's texts, he would dare to say you were perfectly sober. "I was, too." You admitted, looking down.

Spencer made way for you to enter his apartment. He watched as you kicked your shoes off. The sight, that had become as common as the act of breathing, made his way flutter. You intended on staying. Or so he hoped. You walked further into the place, noticing everything as it ever was, as if you hadn't been to his apartment for some time now. "You must be thinking why I'm here," you said, moving to sit on the couch and mentioning him to sit on the small coffee table in front of you, as if you owned the place, and not him.

Perhaps it was true.

He closed the door once you were inside, hesitating for a moment before joining you. He kept noticing things about you; the way you were walking, the way you could barely look him in the eye, the way you looked… “How much did you have to drink?” He asked, quietly.

"Not much. You know I don't usually drink because I can’t hold my drinks. And I'm sure MJ was giving me plain water at some point." You said, looking up at him. Well, at least, your speech flawlessly delivered, even though you were moving a bit more… disoriented than usual. She's totally a Hotchner.

"I... I am," he started, sitting in front of you carefully. "I... I'm sorry. It's just... You've never been so distant. I guess that I was mean to you to elicit some reaction."

Your analytical gaze softened upon his confession. You needed to give him some break, be a little easy on him. Well, easier than you were being as of lately. Nodding lightly, you added, "I'm here to apologize, too. I know... I know that I pushed you away and I made you think that... that that was your fault. It's not."

He froze. No, he wouldn't have you taking the blame for how his actions caused you to react. He looked up at you, reaching out a hand to touch your intertwined ones, "It is."

"Hear me out. Please." You said, lowly, not breaking eye contact. This was so hard, and you had never felt so afraid before. How ironic — to be afraid of being brave. "I... I guess that by now you know why I pulled away."

"I do," he admitted, nervously. "It took me some time, but I... I think I figured you out."

You looked down, embarrassed. It was overwhelming for him to see you portray such different and so many emotions all at once. To you, it was as agonizing as it was freeing. "Well, yes. So... It, um, it wasn't fair. We... we are not something. We are not a thing."

His heart, doing all the thinking and feeling, nearly stopped. As if it wasn't enough, you kept on going, "I'm sorry, I truly am, for how I behaved and how I made you feel by being absent. It's... it's not my place. You have your own life, Reid. I can't be upset with you for making decisions. You're a grown man..." you sighed, glancing at every direction but at him. "I know that I'm wrong, okay? And I know that I shouldn't have pushed you away, nor should I have kept my feelings from you."

Spencer drew in a long breath. He didn't know what to say, but you couldn't be more wrong. All at once, he wanted to scream, but he didn't know what ro say; he wanted to run, but he didn't want to leave you alone — not for a second. He didn't ever want you out of his sight; he didn't want to be the one you were apologizing to, hell, he wanted everything to be okay between them, but it was nice that she was talking to him, finally.

"I..."

Every time he thought he could say something, words failed him. Then, you took it as another opportunity to word-vomit everything you've been feeling. "I was... I was jealous. I didn't like to see that. I didn't like that it happened. But I also know that I have no right to be upset with you because you're single and she's attractive and you're both consenting and willing to do whatever you please, so..." You shrugged as if speaking those words aloud didn't stab new holes in your heart.

Spencer looked at you, totally speechless. It made you snicker. And speak further. Shut up, you idiot. Please, please, please! "And, ah—hahahah—I guess I am, indeed, a bit of a robot because it took me a bit of alcohol to pluck up the courage to come here and totally—hic—destroy our friendship by telling you I love you so much; that I'd hate to see you with anyone other than me. It happened and I hated it. It still stings."

Spencer's heart threatened to fail once again. Your giggles, your words, your confession... His mind completely short-circuited. She loved him. She loved him? She loved him?!?!???!!! That’s what she’d just said, apparently. Okay, calm down. And she’d been jealous. She didn’t like him kissing another woman, because she fucking loved him. Say something, you dumb idiot, his brain shrieked. Say something!

You parted your lips to say something else, but apparently decided against it. Another beat of silence of Spencer staring dumbly at you. "I'm going," you blurted out, standing up.

Spencer, at breakneck speed, stood up as well to stop you from walking away, placing his hands tentatively on your shoulders. Your bodies were now apart by mere inches. "No." His voice was so small and pained that you sat back down.

Despite your apparent willingness, your next words told him about your turmoil. "Why would I stay, Spencer? I've been pouring my heart out to you and you haven't said a thing."

Looking at you, so bare and so vulnerable, Spencer suddenly had flashbacks from when he had lashed out on you earlier and simultaneously fought the feelings that were bubbling inside of him upon your confession. Couldn't you see the sheer shock on his face? Couldn't you see that he was battling against every single bit of self restraint not to pull you into his embrace and make you believe him when he would tell you that you were the only woman for him?

Sure, he had dreamed of you saying those words to him countless times as time went by and you two got closer. Shit, he literally dreamed of it. Of you. Speaking sweet nothings to him... He broke out of his daze, realizing that he was deadly silent, "Don't go..."

"Then say something. I'm here. Not as Hotch's daughter, not as your coworker, not as a part of the team you work with. I'm here as the woman in whose heart you've grown over the last few months. I'm terrified of your answer and you keep depriving me of it." There was a hint of annoyance and hurry on your voice, and he could understand you, he truly could. He just didn't... he lost his voice when he looked at you.

Saying your name softly, he beginned, “I said stupid, untrue things, and I’m sorry. I’m a jerk, and I know that I’m a jerk and—" You quirked your eyebrow and he took a deep breath, trying to cut his rant. "Just... don't sit there and think that I have nothing to say."

"Have you said it?" You pressed it, quirking an eyebrow.

"No." He admitted, widening his eyes a bit as he realized his mistake.

At the same time, you shot, "Not saying something is also an answer for me—"

"—but not for the reasons you're thinking! Do you know how hard it is for me right now?" Spencer was starting to sound very desperate and pathetic, not to mention the fact that he wasn't answering your questions.

Deep breaths (from both ends).

"Look, Reid..." He glared at you upon hearing his last name. "I think I should go home. You and I clearly need some space—"

"What we need to do is talk."

You sighed. "Then why won't you give me an answer?"

Silence.

"You won't even remember this in the morning."

At that, you deemed yourself utterly defeated. This was useless. "I'm sorry I came over. I'm... I'll just go, okay? Please, don't be upset about tonight. I apologize in advance."

The sight of her, once more shying away from him and turning to escape from him, was making Spencer frustrated, with himself, to no end. His heart clenched at your apology, to which he shook his head vehemently. The thing is, he wanted to get ready to answer you, properly, just like he always had some trick up his sleeve or some funny or curious fact to blurt during the most random moments. Spencer was good at speaking, but only when the speech was already ingrained into his mind, something he had read or rehearsed before. Plus, he was sure your state of drunkenness would stop you from remembering that moment.

Spencer dashed to his door, barely stopping you. No, no, no, no, no... She can't leave. This might be my only chance. "You're not going anywhere."

"Excuse me?"

"Stay with me. I don't want you to go." He said, softly, slowly, looking straight into your eyes. It made you dizzy. Either that or the alcohol.

"No?"

"Y-you're drunk and I... I don't think it's safe for you to go by yourself and it's late and... and..." he trailed off, nervously, desperate to get you to stay.

"I'm not drunk."

"You're not fooling me. You might be as concise as ever but you're not sober. Stay."

"Promise... promise you won't be upset with me?"

His heart dropped, heavy with guilt. And with love for you. "I promise."

Spencer silently led you back to the couch, gingerly holding your hand. He felt dazzled, speechless, desperate, frustrated, all at once. But your touch was starting to ground him back to reality, where you were real, having confessed your feelings for him, and he was a mess, not even being able to say anything back. Without much thinking, he said, "You should stay over tonight."

"Okay... I'll take the couch."

"As if I'd let you sleep on the couch."

"It's okay."

"Stop... stop acting like I sent you away."

You kept silent. You felt like he did. Through his touch, he hoped to get you to understand that his feelings were a mess, but they existed, and they were real, and they were yours. "That'd be alright with me, you know. Taking your couch. I think I would sleep better on your floor than I would ever in my bed. To... to say that anything is better if you're somehow involved."

His stomach made a flip-flop. Brain short-circuited again. You yawned, as if you had just made an annoying comment on the weather.

"Are you tired?" He managed to mutter.

"I am."

"Come on. Let's get you to bed."

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'? I'm not letting you on the couch. Come on."

"I can't go to your bed with outside clothes." You booped his nose.

He chuckled lowly, confused a little by your words. "Are you seriously worried about clothes?"

"You don't like germs. That's why I removed my shoes."

Okay, he thought, if I manage to put her to sleep without having a heart attack, I definitely don't need a cardiologist's appointment because it would mean I'm that strong.

"Y-you... remembered?" Damn it, Reid. Stop stuttering.

You sighed, tiredly, and rested your head on his shoulder, looking down at his hand holding yours. "I remember everything about you."

"You do?"

"Yes. Fortunately or unfortunately."

Spencer was too stunned to speak. Too stunned, too dumb, too afraid. Damn it. Damn it. He couldn't stop cursing internally. He forced himself to pull you towards his bedroom and even though he still sensed some uncertainty, he kept going. Reaching for a pair of sweatpants and a big t-shirt, he gave those to you. "You can change into these," as he left the room to make you more comfortable.

"Wait!" You almost shrieked.

"What happened?" He prompted, worriedly, reaching a hand out to touch your arm.

"I don't want you to go."

He bit back a sigh. "I'll be just outside."

"Just... stay here?"

"I can't—" he interrupted himself, just turning around so his back was to you instead. At that, he looked up at his ceiling and prayed to any deity to let him survive that night.

He could hear the sounds of your movements. The zipper being undone, the soft ruffling of the fabric as you tugged your shirt up your head... He was imagining your exposed skin, every perfect inch, how would you look without all those clothes that suited you so nicely, how would it be to touch you, to run his fingertips all over your heated skin, how would it be to kiss every freckle on your body, to—"Done."

Turning around, the sight was adorable, which made him somewhat guilty of his early impure thoughts. "I feel like Alice when she shrunk into a tiny human."

He couldn't fight the smile at your words. He led you to his bed, where you laid on your back on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. Spencer left you briefly to get you a glass of water and some painkillers to leave by the bedside table. You thanked him with a silent glance. As he turned to leave, once again, you said in a small voice, almost phrasing it like a question, too afraid of the answer. "Stay."

"I'll take the couch."

"You asked me to stay, thrice, I guess… And I did. I asked you once and you did. I still have a few requests left. I'm keeping tabs."

He relented, laying next to you and placing a pillow between you two. You breathed out a chuckle and he shook his head, clearly knowing where your mind had gone to. He placed his hand on top of the pillow, offering his comfort, and then you tentatively placed yours on top of his. He grinned to himself.

It was hard for him to wrap his head around what had happened that night. He knew his words — or lack of — could be read the wrong way and you possibly did, but he also hoped that his actions were speaking louder. Just as he was getting lost in thought again, he heard your voice once more.

"Spence?"

That damned nickname.

"Thanks for, um, being so respectful. Not that I don't think you'd be. But, um, as you've said, I'm drunk. And I told you I love you. And you're simply holding my hand." He gulped. He was keeping count, too, of how many times you said you loved him. Twice, so far, but he wanted so much more, endlessly. He wanted to lose track. "I guess... that makes me love you even more," you finished, crushing his heart between your palms, voice thick with sleep.

When he finally turned his head to look at you, your eyes were closed and you looked peaceful, drifting off to sleep. Then, when he was sure you were actually asleep, he stood up from his bed, grabbing a pillow and a spare blanket to lay on the floor.

"I'll gladly sleep on my floor if it means I get to have you around, too..."

—

Spencer didn't get any sleep.

He tossed and turned on the floor all night long, both because his carpet was not the most comfortable spot to sleep on, but also and mostly because there was no way in hell his mind stopped working. All through the night, Spencer fought the urge to shake you awake to ask if this was real, if you really loved him, if the words that slipped through your lips were in fact your feelings towards him. Despite his curiosity and eagerness, he let you sleep, figuring that he had already put you through too much already. As you slept, a movie played on his mind: your moments together, your confession of love, and overthinking the words we are not something. We are not a thing. He feared that you would wake up and realize how badly he had screwed up and decide not to want him anymore. Yes, he was that anxious.

You, on the other hand, even though confused by his lack of answer to your heart’s words, felt lighter than ever by speaking out your truth (the booze did help you a lot, though). Being as analytical as you were had its perks. One of them is that you never let yourself suffer too much for too long, too attached to reality to care much about the rest. So what if he rejected you? Life goes on — and that’s what you thought with every other loser that you caught yourself thinking too much of. Spencer, though… Who were you kidding? Spencer was Spencer. And that meant the world… It wasn’t so bad, if he actually rejected you… you’d only have to face him every day, until the rest of your lives, doomed to work together, cursed to think and rethink all over again small, fleeting moments such as an exchange of longing glances.

(You felt strangely calm due to your touch with reality. Maybe, just maybe, you were hoping for the best based on his care with and for you. But boy, were you ready to give him a piece of your mind.)

As your eyes fluttered open, you stretched your limbs on an unfamiliar bed with too much space. Upon your confusion, the memories came back with full force. You jolted, sitting down, searching for him — and, to be honest, not wanting to find him. The house was deadly silent, so you tried to trick yourself that you were sure he wasn't there. You dashed to the bathroom, taking a quick shower to get rid of the shame and the faint reek of alcohol. As you moved around his stuff, you couldn't help but think that you were so familiar with his things that it was almost like you belonged there. Sigh. It turns out that hiding emotions is easier than feeling them, especially their extremes.

As soon as you finished putting on your own clothes, you stopped dead in your tracks as you heard footsteps outside the bedroom. You froze, not knowing what to say. Or do.

Spencer entered the room, holding a tray meticulously organized with some food on it. “Morning. I, um, made you breakfast.” Because of course he would make you fucking breakfast.

“Morning,” you replied awkwardly and hoarsely. Maybe you cried a little bit, who knows… “Thanks, you didn't have to.”

“I did.”

You take your time to get a good look at him. He had bags under his eyes that appeared to be tired. The sight made your heart drop. “I'm sorry…”

“Don't be.”

“But I was wrong.”

“So was I.”

“But—”

“Last night you said some things. Do you, uh, do you remember what you told me?” You nodded, unable to speak. “Do you remember what you told me?” He repeated, trying to get a verbal answer from you.

“Yes, Spencer. I remember.”

“Can you listen to what I have to say now?”

You nodded, weakly.

“I didn't say anything because… because everything had gone in the most opposite direction they could've gone.” He said, approaching you calmly. “I was up the entire night, hoping to find the right words to tell you that would make you believe me after I… was stupid. I… First, I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I know you said that we're nothing, that we weren't something, that we didn't have anything… but… but you're everything to me.” At that, your eyes finally met his. The intensity of your gaze made him shudder, but he kept going. “All the time we've spent together was nothing compared to what I want to have with you… and… and… God! Do you have any idea of the torture I was put through with you? Constantly thinking of what we could be, what we should be, too scared of your reaction or that—that—that Hotch decided to chop off my neck because he found out that I was crushing on his only daughter!”

At the mention of your dad, you burst out laughing. Seriously? That was such a cliché! “Hey! I'm serious!”

“I'm sorry…” You bit your bottom lip, fighting the urge to laugh at him some more. He was adorable.

“As I was saying,” he continued, trying to sound annoyed, but a hint of a smile threatened to break on his lips, and he didn't pull away when you approached him nor he did when you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest, looking up at him, adoringly. He looked down, meeting your gaze, “I… I love you. I love you too. God, it just feels so good to say that!”

You giggled, again. God, he could never get used to that sound.

“And I’m sorry for being so mean to you when I was frustrated. I should have been more patient and my unthoughtful words hurt you.” You kept silent, remembering his words. “I—I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing if you’ll have me.” He added, intimidated by your gaze.

Silence. “Well, I accept your apologies. I was unfair to you as well. And you know where I stand when it comes to you. My feelings, I mean.”

“I do… But…”

“But?”

“I'd like to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you love me?”

“I don't know. Do I, really?” You joked.

He blushed furiously, ready to stutter himself out of that situation. “No, I mean… you—you said that—that you remembered what you said last night and… so… putting two and two…”

Another giggle interrupted him. You traced his jawline, leaning up to kiss his right cheek. “I really, really love you.” A kiss to his left cheek. He chuckled. “I love you.” A kiss on the tip of his nose, to which he snorted, totally lovestruck. “So much.” A lingering, tender kiss to his forehead. He closed his eyes, already anticipating the next spot you would press your soft lips to.

As you made your way to finally kiss his lips, you decided to tease him and let him wait for a bit longer. Spencer groaned in protest and you chuckled a bit, finally deciding that it was enough. Pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, making him sigh, you were thrilling on making him more and more eager. His grip on you tightened just slightly as he let out a shaky breath. You wanted to laugh, but instead, you poked fun at him. “Now you know what it's like to be teased.”

“I love you. Oh, Jesus… You're driving me insane. You're here… And you, you're you…”

You grinned, looking up at him, finally, finally pressing your lips to his. As you let out a small sigh, his breath hitched, both of you utterly drowning in relief and satisfaction. You pulled back a bit, grinning, going back to kissing him. Spencer's hands found your jawline, sliding back to tangle in your hair as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth. Parting your lips slightly, you granted him full access to kiss you properly, and he moaned at the taste of you, gripping your hair rougher than before. You groaned softly, and he proudly heard and swallowed all your small sounds.

The ring of a phone broke the urgent atmosphere that was building between you two. Spencer ignored it, letting it ring until you pulled away, gasping for air. As you did, the noise stopped and you met his lost eyes, totally dumbstruck, and you laughed because you probably looked the same way. He gave you a charming, lopsided grin, too stupid, too hypnotized to say anything.

The phone began ringing again. “Son of a…!” he cursed, picking up the phone. “Hi, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and unless this is an absolute emergency, I'm kinda busy—”

“Reid.” Aaron Hotchner's firm voice hit Spencer like a bucket of cold water. Widening his eyes, he gulped.

“Yes… sir?” You smiled at that. Of course you knew who he was talking to.

“We have a new case.” Hotch announced.

“Oh… okay… I, um, I—I'll be there in 20.”

Silence.

“Is everything okay, Reid?” Hotchner could read anyone, Spencer was now sure of that. Even through the goddamned phone.

“Wh—yeah, yeah… Everything's… totally f—fine.” He cursed under his breath as you gripped his vest, trying not to laugh.

“Do you know where she is?” Hotch inquired after another moment of quietness.

“Who?” He squeaked. You chuckled silently.

“My daughter.” Of course it was his daughter.

Playing dumb is not a good look on you, you mouthed.

“N—no… I haven't… heard from her.”

“Sure.” Hotch said, skeptically. Spencer could feel the sweat on his forehead. After a moment, your father finished the call with an unreadable “We need to talk.”

Once the phone call ended, you burst out laughing at Spencer's reaction. “Not funny.” He protested, a frown on his face and a soft smile betraying his faux frustration.

“Come on, it is funny.”

He glared at you. “What do you think he wants to talk about?”

“I don't know. Men talk. I wouldn't want to get involved.” You said, grinning, pulling him by his vest.

He squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in the feeling of having you so close. “Do you think he knows?”

“Of course he knows.”

“How are you so collected?”

“Because I'm not the one he's going to scare to death, apparently.”

“He said ‘we’ need to talk. Emphasizing ‘we’. If he knows you’re here, then it probably—” you cut him off with a kiss.

“Well, then… Are you ready to face your biggest fear? The frightening Aaron Hotchner?”

Glancing at you adoringly, he chuckled. “I’d face him and whoever, whatever, a thousand times, if it meant that I could get you in the end.”

—

A couple days after the case, you and Spencer meet again, in your apartment. Sitting down on the couch, you ask him, amusedly, “Do you think he noticed?”

“Totally. I could barely look him in the eye for the first moments,” He said with a fond smile, hiding from you the fact that he had awkwardly and bravely spoken to your dad about your relationship. You laughed, placing your legs on the top of his legs. “I guess we should thank Lila, after all.” He joked, and you laughed out loud.

Leaning him closer to him, grabbing his chin and looking deep into his eyes, you muttered, “Don’t ever say her name again, Spence.”

Your wish was always his command. It would always be.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x hotchner!reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid self insert

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moonstruckme · 9 hours ago

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Pookie! I need you to write me something pretty please :)

Can you write Remus comforting a reader with an anxiety disorder when someone told them "there's nothing to be anxious about. You just want attention" ??? Pretty please?? Love you pookieeeeeee

Thanks for requesting!

cw: mean girl stuff, social anxiety

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 929 words

“Shh.” Remus holds you close to his chest, his hand moving up and down your arm now that your crying has slowed. “It’s okay. It’s just us, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echo, croakily. You’re glad you can’t see your boyfriend’s face, for fear you’d die of embarrassment otherwise. The looming insecurity of your day stands over you like a grim reaper.

You arrived home from a friend’s birthday dinner to find Remus sitting on the couch, already marking the page of his book as he turned to you with a soft smile.

“Hi, sweetheart. How was it?”

You replied, through a laugh that turned into a sob halfway through, “Not great.”

The dinner had been an event of foreboding for you since your invite. You’d been determined to be a good friend by not bailing, but actually going had confirmed your worst fears; it was loud, crowded, filled with people you didn’t know and didn’t fit with. Your outfit wasn’t right, the menu was daunting, and conversation swirled all around you about things you weren’t a part of. The fallout was basically inevitable.

You perhaps waited too long to excuse yourself. You were sweating buckets and breathing around a lump by the time you did, whispering an explanation to your friend before locking yourself into a bathroom stall to talk yourself down. You’re sure she didn’t mean anything by telling the people sitting closest to her why you were gone—you don’t think she’d do it to gossip, and she’s never talked down to you about that sort of thing, at least not to your face—but by the time you returned one of her friends—a stranger to you, who’s name you can’t even remember—had formulated a fairly decisive opinion and dubbed you an attention seeker.

You stayed only a little longer after that. Just long enough to avoid attracting more attention. And you worked yourself up well enough on the way home that all it took was one innocent question from Remus to send you crumpling into his arms.

You’ve tried to steel yourself more than once, but any attempts at stoicism have been foiled by your boyfriend’s tender looks and whispered placations, which only make you cry harder. If you’re an attention seeker, Remus is your holy grail. Self loathing sits lodged in your throat like a stone.

“Whose friend was it, again?” Remus asks, stroking your arm gently.

You take a breath, trying to steady your voice. “Does it matter?”

“I don’t mean it’s your friend’s fault, sweetheart,” Remus says. He’s all softness and patience, better than you could ever deserve. “I just thought you might talk to her, if you want to. She ought to know her friend is going around saying cruel things.”

“She was there.” Your throat tightens at the memory.

“Oh. Then I don’t suppose you need to say anything; I’m sure she’s already very upset for you.”

You try to laugh, frustrated with yourself when it only seems to spur another wave of tears. “Rem. You’re biased.”

“What?” Remus sounds genuinely surprised. “You don’t think she’s angry with that other girl?”

“She’s her friend.”

“So are you.” His arms tighten around you protectively, chin bumping your head. “I may be biased, but the other girl was clearly in the wrong. There’s no excuse for the way she acted.”

A dozen rebuttals fly about your head, but you keep your mouth shut. You don’t have the energy to argue. Unfortunately, Remus hears your argument in the silence anyway.

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, “no one puts themselves through what you do for attention. You don’t choose to feel that way.”

You hunch your back, tucking your head underneath his chin. “I do get attention for it, though.”

“That doesn’t mean you want it.”

“But I—”

“Do you want it?” You can’t see Remus, but you hear the hardened edge to his tone. “Did you like it, when that girl called attention to you in the middle of the dinner?”

Your voice smalls. “No.”

“Right.” The gentleness returns. Remus puts his lips to your head. “I know you didn’t, dovey. So don’t torment yourself, please. She doesn’t know anything about you.”

You push your lips together. He lets you chew on your next words for a while, his thumb swiping softly back and forth over your upper arm, the sleeve of your top shifting slightly with the motion.

“What if…” You gnaw the inside of your cheek. Remus waits. “What if everyone thinks that?”

“Mm. Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think most people would. Surely not anyone who knows you, or anyone worth being around.” He takes a breath, thinking. “You can’t always control what people think. I know you say I’m biased, but anyone who thinks something like that really isn’t worth thinking about at all. You’ve got enough going through that head of yours, yeah?” He kisses your hair fondly.

“I guess so,” you admit.

“Yeah,” Remus decides. He pulls away to see your face, pushing hair away from your tacky cheeks. “I’d say so.”

You wonder if you look as horrendously in love as you feel. You think you must, because your boyfriend’s expression softens impossibly further as he turns his head to give you a proper kiss. You feel raw but comforted, and suddenly, totally exhausted.

“Let the bullies worry about themselves.” Remus gives you a tender look. “I’ll worry about you.”

You let a small smile tilt your lips. “And what am I left to worry about?”

“Nothing,” he says solemnly. “Think you can manage that?”

“Nope.”

“Mm. Well, try.”

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fl3shm4id3n · 2 days ago

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could you do a fic where thanos finds out fem reader self-harms?? or like he notices fresh scars 😭😭 make it fluffy/ or angst, and do whatever u want

ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢�� 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐬.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴛʜᴀɴᴏꜱ (ᴄʜᴏɪ ꜱᴇᴜɴɢ-ʜʏᴜɴ) x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: SENSETIVE TOPIC, talks about self harming/cutting, worried Thanos, talks about substances/drug abuse, swearing, comfort at the end.

Masterlist

You've managed to sneak a blade into the games, you knew how to hide them without them getting spotted. Every bathroom break you'd go to, you always gave yourself a small cut, whether it was on your thigh or arm. You had stopped harming yourself, but your debts and the stress that came it, made you harm yourself again. Even more since you've been playing these games. You didn't want to die, you wanted to go home. But you were prevented from leaving since people wanted to continue playing and add more money to the piggy bank. The stress was killing you, the cuts became more frequent, you had began to harm yourself under your covers when the lights went out.

After the mingle game, you were anxious. Even worried. You couldn't help but fidget your hands. What if the next game was even more deadly than the last. What if you got killed? That made you even more anxious. You continued to fidget your hands, every now and then your caress your fresh cuts on your wrist. You wanted to go to the bathroom badly, desperate to do a cut just to ease your nerves. Thanos then approached you and leaned his body against the wall. "Why are you here alone?" He couldn't help but ask, you looked up at him. Still anxious. Thanos tilted his head to the side. "You're a shy one huh?" He asked. "Come on. Let's go and make you some friends." He said, grabbing a hold of your of your wrist, you then let out a painful hiss.

Thanos looked at you, both confused and worried. "What? Did I hurt you?" He asked, he then looked down at your wrist and noticed something. He didn't hesitate and began to pull the sleeve of your jacket up. "No, don't-" You tried to say, but it was late. Your sleeve was pulled up. Thanos looked at your arm. Seen the many scars and fresh cuts. "What the fuck are these?" He asked, he sounded angry. All you could do was look down at the ground, ashamed.

Next thing you were. You were in the bathroom with Thanos. He was cleaning up your wounds with the water from the silk. It was quiet, very quiet. The tension was obvious. "Why do you do it?" Thanos asked, but you didn't respond. Thanos then grabbed a paper towel and began to clean the water off your arm. "You do know this can kill you? What if you were to cut a veil and you bleed to death? Then what?" He asked, still upset. "What about you? You take drugs as if they're candy. Drugs can kill you too ya know." You said, almost defensive.

"This isn't about me, it's about you. How did you even sneak a blade in here? How did they not take it away with your stuff." He wondered. You went quiet again. Not wanting to say a word. Once he was finished cleaning your cuts, he pulled your sleeve down. He then held out his hand. "Give me." He demanded, you looked at him confused. "Give you what?" You asked. "Don't play dumb, give me the blades. Now." He said, more demanding. As much as you didn't want to, you did. You gave him the small razor blades, placing them on his hand. "All of them." He said, you sighed. Then reached into your mouth, under your tongue and carefully took out the last one. And placed it in his hand.

Thanos then went over and threw the blades in the toilet and flushed them. You just stood there, still ashamed. He made sure that they all flushed down. He then walked over to you and looked at you. "Don't do that shit again you hear?" He said, almost scolding you like a child. You didn't respond, you just kept your head down. Thanos then placed his hands on your shoulders and leaned down a bit to try to look at your eyes. "If you need someone to talk to, I'm here. You hurting yourself won't solve anything." He said, then he pulled you into a tight hug. "You are cared for. You are loved." He said as he hugged you. You didn't really know him, yet he was here acting like you have been friends for decades. He then pulled away and looked at you. "Stick with me okay? You don't have to be alone in this okay?" He said, but before you could respond, he pulled you into a tight hug again. Maybe that's what you needed, someone to talk to. You slowly hugged him back. Happy to know that someone is willing to help you.

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dirtylittlesecre7 · 19 hours ago

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Hiii I was wondering if we could get a dom!cho hyun-ju x f! Reader where weve bee feeling kind of insecure so she helps prove that theres nothing to be insecure about? Do u think u could add some praise, hand holding n whatever else u would like to add? Pls n thank u!!

! nsfw content !

dom gf!hyun-ju x f!reader

(these are happening in a way that the squid game does not exist)

word count | 1,5k

warning | smut, oral(reader receiving), yeah that's all

"aren't you ready yet?" the voice coming from outside the door made you swallow hard, you looked at yourself in the mirror again. you had made an agreement with your girlfriend to go out but you didn't want to go out now. you wanted to wear the dress hyun-ju bought for you on today's date but something seemed missing, you weren't feeling well, even looking in the mirror started to hurt so you turned your head away "I..I'll be ready in a minute."

hyun-ju looked at the clock and let out a breath when she realized that your reservation time was almost past. of course she would always wait for you but it had taken longer than necessary. after a while you heard another knock on the door "is everything okay..? if you need anything please tell me, should I come in?" her worried tone made you feel bad too, you didn't want to ruin anything on a day like this. hyun-ju was about to leave when she didn't hear anything from you but the sound of the door opening made her stop.

she looked at you, then her gaze roamed over your body, you looked so... perfect. she smiled slightly as she realized that you were embarrassed by her gaze and locked eyes with yours again. hyun-ju took a step closer and held your hands. "you're so beautiful, but why is your face so sulky, hm? tell me, darling." one of her hands went to your chin and made you look at her. you could barely put your thoughts into words but finally managed to speak. "I..I don't feel very good in this dress..don't get me wrong- you bought it for me and it's absolutely beautiful but..I think I diminished it's beauty by wearing it."

a sigh filled the air, hyun-ju entered the room and then closed the door and placed both hands on your cheek, her thumbs drawing small circles as you began to relax under her touch. "I don't want you to say things like that. please. I know it's hard to change your mind no matter what I say and I hate it but..I wish you could see how you look through my eyes." her hands went down to your waist and with small steps she led you to where the mirror was, now with your back turned to her you were looking at yourself in the mirror again. hyun-ju tilted her head slightly to the side and placed a small kiss on your neck "every part of you is so beautiful, so precious." another kiss, her voice was lower this time "I am so lucky to have you, such a delicate beauty that would make angels jealous..it's completely unfair for you to feel so insecure when everyone around you is talking about your beauty, my little baby."

you turned your head to her, every word she said caused your eyes to fill with tears, hyun-ju's face filled with worry as she felt a pain in her heart the moment she realized this "who talked about me?" she knew you were upset right now but when she heard your soft voice and saw the way your bottom lip pouted, she couldn't help but giggle at your sweetness, and kissed your lips, wiping your bottom lip with her thumb as the lipstick you had just applied smeared with her "last week when we met the others, you got up to go to the bathroom and as soon as you left, se-mi made a comment about how your skirt looked good on you. well..I can't say she was wrong of course but I have to admit I was jealous. you attract attention everywhere we go and it makes me happier to have you."

you tried to process what she said, hyun-ju gave you a moment to give yourself time but her gaze fell on the strap of your dress that had fallen off your shoulder. you flinched slightly when you felt her fingers on your shoulder while you were lost in thought, raised your head to her but she wasn't looking at you, her eyes traveled from your shoulder to your neck "y/n.." you answered while the way she said your name made your body shiver "yes?" the moment hyun-ju heard your weak voice, it was all over for her, neither the restaurant nor anything else on her mind. she lowered the strap of your dress again and kissed your shoulder. whispered "we're late enough for the reservation..."

she made you lie down on the bed and was soon on top of you. "I'm sorry..I didn't mean for it to happen-" your sentence was cut off when hyun-ju's hand slid under your dress and caressed your thigh. "shh..there's nothing to apologize for." looked into your eyes with desire. "let me prove how beautiful my girlfriend is, with or without a dress." she delicately removed the single piece of fabric you were wearing, she was eager to touch you but she liked to savor this moment more slowly. soon you were left with only your panties, her fingers finding your clit through the fabric as she kissed your lips hungrily, sucking on your bottom lip and you let out a whimper when your tongues met.

her kisses slowly moved down, first to your neck, then to your breasts, lingering for a while before coming to your stomach. you giggled slightly as the tiny kisses tickled you. hyun-ju smiled when she heard your laugh and lifted her head. "that's it. I always want to see you laugh." continued, the wet kisses she left in between were making your mind blurry. you admired how she could take away all your worries, even a single kiss could make you forget all the bad things.

as she went down further, she kissed your clit through the fabric, hand stopped you as you were about to close your legs, she raised her head and looked at you "I want you to keep your legs open, okay little one?" you just nodded in approval, you didn't want to wait any longer and she knew it very well. took off your panties without waiting too long and got between your legs, her hand found your hand and intertwined your fingers "hyun-ju.." you said her name needily. without making you wait any longer, her tongue met your pussy, she sucked your clit for a while, and then she went down a little further, stuck her tongue in your hole. you squeezed the hand you held with a loud moan, hyun-ju continued to destroy you with her tongue while she started caressing your hand with her thumb.

her movements were slow and seductive but when you didn't expect it, she sped up, she grabbed your leg with her free hand and spread it wider, making it easier for her to eat you out. all you could do at that moment was moan her name. even though she had done this often, holding hands made you feel strangely embarrassed. hyun-ju always made gestures like this during sex and she always managed to embarrass you. in fact, at that moment you realized how unimportant the thoughts of the people around you were, when you had a girlfriend like this and were loved like this, you didn't want to care about others anymore. there was only her and you.

hyun-ju's movements didn't stop, her tongue was moving rapidly inside your pussy while her hand holding your leg slowly moved from your belly to your breasts, when she started playing with your hardened nipple with gentle movements, you let out another loud moan, she knew very well which parts of your body were sensitive. after a while the pleasure you were getting from both sides started to be too much, you moved your hips and your stomach tightened, you knew you were close to cumming "hyun-ju..I..I'm..c-close.." you could barely speak between your moans, just threw your head back in pleasure. hyun-ju moaned as your hips moved around her face and after a while you couldn't hold yourself back any longer and came in her mouth.

she pulled back, looking at the juices flowing from your pussy before looking at you who was exhausted. she grinned slightly, oh she loved eating you out so much, she could do this all day long but she had other things to worry about right now. her lips were glistening from your juices, licked her own lips and leaned in closer, kissing your cheek. “I love you so much.” buried her head in your neck. “please don’t hesitate to talk to me at times like this, I don’t like you being by yourself, I’m always here. always.” her arms wrapped tightly around your waist and she laid down on the bed, pulling you to her. “we’re late for dinner..” you purred, she chuckled and pulled back slightly to look at your face. “I got more than what i wanted, but I can still make you something if you’re hungry?” saw you avert your eyes shyly and kissed your forehead with a smile. “you rest here, I’ll go and make sure you get fed well.” she put the covers over you and looked at you one last time before leaving the room. when the door closed, there were no bad thoughts or anything else on your mind anymore.

#squid game imagine #squid game x reader #hyun ju x reader #squid game smut #squid game imagines

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days ago

Text

To Those Who Wait 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, virginity loss, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are tired of being the safe one so you decide to pay for some excitement.

Characters: escort!Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett

Note: yeah, I couldn’t resist.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖

'Morning, sunshine.'

The sarcasm burns into every letter. You stick your tongue out and type your reply. You lay in the dim of your drawn curtains, still half-nestled in your bed.

'Morning, sparky.'

Curtis' response makes you giggle. 'Sparky?'

No emojis. He's not the type. You laze despite the minutes ticking by. Your thumbs flick over the digital keys.

'Give it but can't take it.'

The next bubble has you breathless; 'oh I'm more than willing to give'. Oh, okay. You don't know how to answer that. You send a wink emoticon then prompty groan at your own cluelessness.

You lock the screen and sit up. Is this what life is? Torturous obligation and cringey efforts to be normal. You want to send a message telling Curtis it's okay if he just gives up. You're a mess.

You drag yourself out of your room. As you try to empty the reusable filter for the coffee grounds, you spill it everwhere. You need to start emptying it after use. Another missed checkbox.

Your phone buzzes again. Great. You're sure it's just him calling you lame. You snatch the cell and go to swipe away the message but it isn't Curtis.

WhatsApp.

Hm. Maybe another recruiter cold messaging?

You tap with your thumb, resolved to finally delete the app and wipe the slate clean. You just need to forget that mistake. If you can.

The message waiting for you doesn’t bode well.

‘Feeling thirsty yet?’

You stare at it. You can’t be sure it’s Hugh. The number isn’t the same, you would recognise the last few digits at least. The coffee machine spits out the last few droplets. You turn to grab your cup, the phone buzzing in your hand.

You read with dread, ‘ah come on, just one more go.’

It has to be him. Who else could it be? What else could they be referring to?

A video pops up and plays automatically. You click it to make it bigger as you try to make out what’s going on. Your heart drops and your phone nearly does too. You stare at the recording of yourself on the bed, undressing as you huddle near the top of the hotel bed.

A cold splash sends a chill through you. You remember him turning on the speaker. He must have connected his phone but then you didn’t see what he did with it after that. You didn’t think to pay attention to that, you were too swept up in your own catastrophe.

‘Let’s talk.’

Those two words spike your panic. What did you do? You’re so stupid and yet how are you surprised? Nothing ever goes right. How dare you even try to believe things could get better? That maybe Curtis could be something more than a disappointment.

Loser. Loser. Loser!

You want to bang your head on the counter. You want to scream. You want to crumple into a heap in cry.

You don’t do anything of that. You simply key into the screen; ‘why?’

He sends a laughing emoji. Then a real message. ‘That’s what we’re going to talk about.’

Your eyes glaze with tears and you shake your head. He’s taunting you. Toying with you. This is all just an ego stroke for some narcissist that gets off on himself. Why else would he do what he does? Well, who are you to judge? You paid for his services.

‘That cafe near your office. 12:30.’

You toss the phone on the counter like it’s acid. What the hell? How does he know where you work? How does he know there’s a cafe there? No, no, no. How does he know anything about you? Why does he care?

You pace around hectically. You can’t stay still. You scratch your skin as if you might peel it off. An unbearable itch burns through you. You make a noise somewhere between a sob and a wretch.

You reel in your doom, just enough to retrieve the cell from the floor. You shakily send a thumbs up. That’s all you can manage. Not a good job, just a confirmation. You’ll be there because you have no other choice.

⛅

Your morning is frantic. You have a thousand things to do at once. The phone calls are endless and Shania double-booked another reservation. Don’t you always get the happy job of informing the guests they have to rebook. Fun, fun, fun.

The demanding customers are the least of your problems. Work at the Travel Agency can be downright agony but right now you prefer it to the alternative. It’s the rare instance where you curse the clock for going too fast.

Usually, a trip down to the cafe is your relief. An indulgence on an especially stressful day. That day is more nerve-wracking than any but you don’t think a dose of caffeine would make it any better. You’re already rattling through to your bones.

You reluctantly leave your desk. Your phone is firmly in your purse, where it’s been all day. You don’t want to look at it, even if it’s Curtis making it buzz. You just want to shut down.

You take the stairs. You don’t want to be around other people though you realise the cafe will be busy with the lunchtime rush. You wonder if that’s deliberate. You get to the ground floor and make your way outside.

You stop before the cafe. You peer along the tinted windows and your eyes stop on the singular familiar figure. There he is. Hugh. Somehow, he looks different than that night. How, you can’t say. He’s wearing a similar swear, a light robin’s egg blue, luxurious even. The sweater can’t be cheap given the small logo embroidered on one side of the chest.

You enter and skip the line. You go straight to the table and stop behind the chair opposite...him. You cross your arms and glare at him. Hugh casually lifts his chin and smiles up at you. Your forehead wrinkles in disgust.

“You look wound tight,” he sits up completely, the last consonant sharp. “Need help with that?”

Your nostrils flare and you drag out the chair. You drop into the seat and push your elbows into the table. You lean across it and snarl, “what do you want?”

He snorts, “I like that about. Always straight to the point... even when you have no idea what you’re doing.”

Your cheeks tingle with heat and you look away. You push your shoulders back and shift in discomfort. Even as the bruises fade, if you think hard enough, you can feel that night still.

“That boyfriend know about me yet?” He sips from the tall porcelain cup in front of him. You shake your head and put your eyes to the table.

“Aw, well, I can’t blame you,” he clinks the cup down. “He wouldn’t be able to handle the competition. Would he?”

“I have to get back to work so whatever you want, just say it.”

He chortles again and hums, “I said I wanna talk. We’re talking. Isn’t it nice?”

“I don’t have money if that’s what you’re getting at--”

“Money? Hm, that’s real funny. Oh, you think... you think I’m desperate? I wanted some Balenciaga.” He flicks a finger up and down the mug handle. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

You huff and shake your head, “and it’s better that you get off on embarrassing me? Well, I hope you’re enjoying it because you’ve done a great job.”

You peek up at him and his grin slants. He leans an elbow on the table as he sits forward. His eyes crinkle as he considers you.

“It’s not about money, not even about a joke,” he says. “It’s the way you squeezed me. The way you whined for me,” his voice lowers to a sultry rasp. “The way you drained me fucking dry. You know how many princesses I’ve had on my dick and they just lay there and--” He makes a motion with his hand, “dead fish.”

You frown, “you’re gross.”

“I’m secure in myself,” he argues. “Real rich of you to act like you didn’t like it when you came all over my fucking fingers. Didn’t even take much.”

You rub your neck and stare out the window. Your stomach is boiling. You just want him to get his kicks and go.

“It’s how I know you didn’t lie. About being a virgin, or whatever,” he says. “You know, you could’ve sold that yourself but I guess you were having some trouble finding a buyer--”

“My lunch is almost over,” you grit out. “Get to it, Hugh.”

He laughs louder than before. He scoops up his cup and drains it. “You’re so funny. Really. You make me laugh.” You glower and his smirks widens. “Alright, alright. Pretty simple, you probably already know what I want. Just one more time. I just need to feel it again. That grip--” He makes a fist and you scoff.

“I told you I’m not interested--”

“No? Not interested at all in your porn debut,” he taps his phone and you reach across to swat his hand back.

“Why did you do that?” You hiss.

“Woah, I gotta be safe. I record in case something goes wrong,” he pushes your hand away. “Lucky me, it went so fucking right. You know how many times I’ve watched it?”

You groan and rest your head in your hands. You’re fucked. Utterly and totally. Likely literally.

“Tonight,” he says. “Tell the goth boy you’re doing overtime.”

You sit back and stare at him. Your chest pits and your eyes glimmer. It shouldn’t hurt so much but it does. You don’t want to lose Curtis, not yet.

This is exactly why you didn’t want to get attached.

☕

You don't text Curtis. You can't bring yourself to do it. You just leave him hanging. He'll probably assume your busy. You're sure he has something better to do.

Just like most things in your life, it's over before it begins. Why did you let yourself believe it could be anything? After tonight, it definitely won't be.

That time is different. You don't primp yourself or preen over whether you look good. Instead, you toss all those things you bought to do yourself up the first time in the trash. Everything but the condoms.

You pace restlessly around your apartment. That's another violation. You offered another hotel. 'Your place.' The argument was short. Fuck.

He can't come here. He can't do this. You can't do this. Not again.

Your legs wobble and you teeter to the couch. You sit down and fold over your knees. You can feel the dull pain already. Back in that room, bawling as he pumps into you, scraping out your guts.

You're going to be sick!

You lurch up and run to the bathroom. You spew into the toilet and pant through the acidic saliva left in your mouth. You shut the lid and flush.

You should leave the residue in your mouth. It might repulse Hugh enough to get rid of him. Yet if you don't rinse out the acidic flavour, you'll just hurl again.

You brush your teeth slowly then look at yourself in the mirror. You look scared. You are but you look utterly terrified. Why is this happening to you?

You're not stupid enough to think you're special. No, you're weak. He's a shark and he smelled blood in the water. He set you up for this. You were too nervous, too desperate, and too stupid to see through his ploy.

Your phone buzzes. You ignore it, even as it thrums against the table noisily. If it's Curtis, you might just cry.

The door buzzer chirps. Right. You push away from the sink and shudder.

Your feet hit the floor clumsily and you walk as if you're wadding through thick mud. You hit the button as your stomach churns again. His voice adds to the broil of sickness.

"Baby, I'm here."

You press the button down without as response. You stagger away and linger by the door. You hear him coming down the hall. You open the door at the first knock.

"Someone's eager," he snickers.

You don't say a word. You step back. He enters and whistles.

"Not bad. Cozy," he says. "Bouta get real cozy, huh?"

You shut the door and lock it. He turns and examines the walls. You stare at him.

"Jeez, baby, you got a knife or something? Looking like you're about to crack up over there," he taunts.

That might have been a good idea if you weren't nervous of stabbing yourself in an attempt. Besides, he's a lot stronger. You remember how thick his muscle was, how easily he ignored your pleas.

"Hospitable too," he sniffs and slips off his velvet loafers. "Whatcha got going on?" He struts further into the apartment. "Wine? Beer?"

He goes to fridge and pops it open. You loom like a shadow against the wall as you tiptoe after him. He sucks his teeth as he examines the contents on the racks.

"Ugh, boring," he remarks.

"Don't drink," you croak.

"You didn't seem to mind the wine," he shuts the fridge without his bounty. "Fuck, well, it'll be good. You'll like it better sober. Although I do prefer a sloppy fuck."

You grimace. He makes no pretense as he continues his exploration. He strides past the living room and head through your bedroom door.

"No cute jammies tonight, huh?" He calls through.

You waft into the doorway like a ghost. That's what you are. You are hollowed out. You resign yourself, surrender yourself to ruin. It's all over.

Goodbye, Curtis.

"Looks like you don't got much in mind but don't worry, baby, I planned ahead," he faces you with a wink. "Wanna try something new?"

No. You don’t want to do any of this. You glower.

“Shit, baby, you keep looking at me like that and I’m going to have to wipe that look off your face... along with something else,” he grabs his crotch and growls. “Hard already, you know? Just thinking about what I’m about to do.”

Your lip curls as disgust crawls up your back. “Just get it over with,” you murmur.

“Trying,” his eyes flash dangerously. The retort makes you think of Curtis but he never spoke to you so harshly.

You step out of the doorway before you can fall apart. Your breath clouds in your chest until it feels like someone’s standing on you. You let it out slowly as plays with the black cat figuring on your bookshelf. He scoffs, unimpressed.

“So,” he faces you and tugs at the hem of his sweater, inching it up, “why are your clothes still on?”

You glance away angrily. “Your phone goes in the drawer,” you point to the night stand.

“Pfft, come on. I already got the good shots. What’s another dirty movie, baby? I gotta say, you look good on film--”

“Put it in the drawer,” you insist.

“Damn, don’t gotta be so mean, baby.” He snickers and wiggles his phone at you then puts it in the night stand.

“I’m not your joke, so stop laughing at me.”

“Lighten up. I’m not laughing at you, baby. I just...” He pauses as he pulls his sweater over his head. He wears a thin white tank underneath, his reddish chest hair peeking out the top. “How many women do you think hold my attention once I’ve been in ‘em? Let’s just say, we both had our first that night.”

“Don’t try to flatter me,” you snip.

“Girl,” he squares his shoulder and the humour flickers from his expression, “get your clothes off.”

Your mouth twitches. You take a breath and turn away. You look down at the wrinkled blouse you wore to work. You’re sure he’s full of hot air, he’s just mocking you, especially since he’s wearing Calvin Klein and you’re in Walmart clearance.

You unbutton it as you hear his clothing rustle softly. A shiver speckles across your back as you throw it in your hamper. Your pants go just as easily as you push down the elastic waistband. Another wave of nausea threatens but you keep it down.

You unhook your bra as your bed squeaks. You keep your eyes down and step out of your panties. You pause as you dangle them over the basket. You blink away the heat in your eyes. Why did you run away from Curtis all those times? Why does it have to be Hugh?

You spin and march over to him. He sits on the end of the bed, naked, knees wide. You reach for him, intent to be done with him, but he catches your hands and holds them away from him.

“Uh uh, you really think it’s going to be that easy,” he sneers. “Oh, baby, I didn’t get any of that mouth.”

Your lip quivers and your nose scrunches, “what?”

“Don’t worry, it’s fun, baby. I can train you up for the sad boy,” he chuckles.

“Shut up,” you twist away from him. “Don’t talk about him.”

“Aw, what’sa matter? He don’t make you wet like I do, huh?”

You stomp away and snatch the box of condoms from behind your dresser. You take one and bring it to him. He snorts.

“You like the taste of rubber?”

“Put it on.”

“You think I’m dirty? You saw my test results.”

“I don’t care,” you shove it into his chest.

“Be a lot nicer if you tasted the real thing,” he huffs.

You cross your arms and wait. He rolls his eyes and peels the wrapper open. He pinches the thick ring then presses the rubber to his tip.

“Well, get on your knees. You’re the one so anxious to get this done with. Is the boy toy on his way? Scared he’ll catch—woah!”

He lets go of himself and the condom rolls up just to his tip. He catches your hand before you can make contact with his cheek. “I told you not to talk about him.”

“I like this zest,” He stands and raises your arms above you, “but you won’t like mine.”

He spins you and pushes you onto the bed. You fall heavily and bounce, your teeth snapping down on your tongue. You whimper as he slides his fingers around his dick, pushing the rubber to his base. He climbs up on his knees, straddling you as he advances up your body.

You push on his thighs as he gets higher. Once more, he has your wrists. He clasps them against the mattress, locking them above your head. You flail your legs and he laughs again. His other hand goes to his length and he strokes himself as he presses the lubed condom to your lips.

“Open up for daddy,” he jeers and pushes until he meets your teeth. “I feel the hint of a nip and I’ll skip the kitty and go straight for the peach. Understand that, baby girl?”

Your eyes widen as your bottom puckers. Your fear radiates from your gaze and draws another pleased hum from him. You open your mouth and close your eyes, gagging as the rubber smears lube across your tongue.

He angles as he dips down, touching your reflex as he invades your throat. You choke and spasm under him as he wiggles his hips, testing your limits. You can’t breathe.

He rears and you heave in before he blocks your airway again. He groans and tilts again. Thrusting in and out as you writhe. Tears crest along the brims of your eyes and your saliva smears around your mouth. Each time, he pushes a little further.

“Fuck, baby, how is it just as good as the pussy?” He purrs as he clutches your hair, rocking over you as the smell of the condom adds to your revulsion.

He pumps into you until you’re raw with agony. He lets go of your hands and you push on his hips, begging for him to stop. He doesn’t care. He just keeps going. He quakes and groan, grasping the blankets around your head as he fucks you your head into the bed.

“Gahhh,” he pulls out of you so quickly you gag.

You cover your mouth as he bounces over you. He rolls the condom off and keeps stroking himself. You’re surprised as he spurts his cum onto you, the slimy mess string over your knuckles and onto your nose and cheeks. You put your hand out to shield yourself as he grunts and sits back on his heels.

“The hell?” You gasp.

“I couldn’t fucking hold it, woulda split the damn thing in half,” he puffs as he cups his balls. “Speaking of splitting things in half--”

You lift yourself on your elbows, trying to drag yourself out from under him. He snags you around your ribs and pushes you flat. “Where are you going?”

“You just--”

“Finished? No, that’s round one,” he snickers. “You don’t think I got a few tricks? I mean, a blue pill keeps me in business.”

You curl your lip again and he laughs even louder. You glance up at the night table at the box of condoms. He sighs.

“Fucking tight ass,” he hisses. “Want me to see if that’s literal?” You look at him and bare your teeth. He waves you off and climbs off you to grab the box. “Whatever. At least you had the good sense to get good ones.”

You slowly sit up and wipe your face. He leans on one knee and slides on another condom. He quivers and exhales through his nose. He grabs your shoulder and nudges you.

“Wouldn’t mind it from the back,” he says.

You resist and he snarls, “relax. If I go through the back door, I might not get it out with you being so uptight.” He pinches your nipple cruelly. “Go on, show Ransom that booty.” You tilt your head curiously. Ransom? His eyes dart away, “you gonna listen to daddy or you want some spankings while I’m back there?”

You move reluctantly. You roll over and he grabs your hips, guiding your ass higher as he jostles behind you. He drags his hands around your ass and down your thighs, then up again. He smacks you harshly so you feel the jiggle. You yelp and he guffaws.

“Oh, fuck, should flipped you over the first time.” He gropes your ass and rubs himself against you.

Your insides curdle. You hide in yourself. You try not to think about reality. Not about the desecration of your home, your safe space, of the place you made all your own. Nor the same being done to your body. To your relationship.

Whatever, it was never going to last.

He glides down between your cheeks, lingering as if considering it. You twitch and he snorts. He trails further down and presses against your cunt. He groans as he stretches you slowly. It isn’t easier. Not better. Not like they say.

No, they say the first time is the worst. No, this is. This is torture. This is hell.

He leans into you, grunting as you squeeze him, as your body resists his intrusion. He bends over you, his torso flush to your back, and thrusts. He impales you complete and you cry out. You push against him as your body racks in agony.

He pumps again and you squeal louder. Fuck. Your fingers curl until your knuckles hurt. You hang your head and shudder. He rocks into you, playing with your hair as he nuzzles your nape. He puffs into your skin and it sends a roil of disgust through you.

You sink down until your face is in the blankets. You crush your arms beneath you and drone into the bed. He hooks his arm under you to keep your ass up, rutting faster and faster. Your flesh claps like thunder, a never-ending cacophony.

He growls and brings a hand under your chin, then his other. You wriggle as he squeezes your face and hooks his fingers in your mouth, pulling taught your lips. You arch your back and whine as he keeps his callous pace.

You grab onto his arms as the strain in your lips feels as if it might tear. He lifts your head and you deepen the curve in your back, trying to balance him at both ends. His nose tickles the back of your ear.

“Yeah, baby, squeeze me just like that. Ugh, that pussy knows what it wants better than you do,” he taunts. “Ugh, you latched on tight.”

You can’t speak, you can’t shake your head, you can’t deny him in any way.

“You feel so good,” he snarls. “The way you go me... fuck I feel it in my gut... I’m gonna...”

He slides his hands from your mouth and wraps his arms around you instead; one at your neck, the other around your middle. He pulls you up with him and pounds relentlessly. The bed rocks furiously beneath you as your addled voice gurgles from your throat. The headboard knocks into the wall in a frenetic tempo.

“Yeah, so good,” he rasps between deep breaths. “So good. Never... think I’d let you go, huh?”

You hang from his embrace. Defeated. You did this to yourself. So take it.

#ransom drysdale #curtis everett #dark random drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #curtis everett x reader #dark curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #to those who wait #fic #series #dark fic #dark!fic #snowpiercer #knives out

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strawberrysugar71 · 2 days ago

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I've actually had enough and I'm going to fucking scream (LOTS OF SWEARING, passive aggressive - I think - and rant :3)

(I probably put this really horribly and I'm sorry about that but I'm genuinely so pissed off I actually can't find a shit to give.)

"SHE TOLD GANGLE SHE'S ANNOYING! RAGATHA IS A HORRIBLE PERSON!"

HAHA NO SHE'S NOT 😝😝😝 GET OVER IT. SHE'S TROUBLED LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE THERE. SHE LIES TO KEEP EVERYBODY SANE, WHICH TBF HARMS HERSELF MORE THAN IT DOES ANYBODY ELSE. BUT THE SECOND SHE'S HONEST ABOUT SOMETHING BECAUSE IT'S WHAT'S HEALTHY FOR HER SHE'S A HORRIBLE PERSON AND IS EVERYBODY'S LEAST FAVOURITE CHARACTER. LET IT GO. SHE WAS INTOXICATED TOO, AND PEOPLE DO DUMB SHIT WHILST INTOXICATED. (literally common sense that 17-20 year olds are ignoring that even a 13 yo understands?!). NOT TO MENTION 2 SECONDS LATER SHE ACKNOWLEDGED WHAT SHE SAID WAS MEAN. EVEN I - ONE OF THE BIGGEST RAGATHA FANS YOU'LL EVER MEET - WAS UPSET AT HER WHEN SHE SAID THAT. IF YOU WANNA ACCUSE ONE OF THE CHARACTERS OF BEING A PRICK, MOVE ALONG TO JAX. THANKS.

Also she doesn't ACTUALLY hate Jax. That's common knowledge, I fear... If she really hated him, why is she always with him? Why is she sharing the spotlight of the next TWO episodes with him? Huh? Huh? HUH?

"THEY HAVE AN EIGHT YEAR AGE GAP!!!"

😱😱😱 OMG I NEVER FUCKING KNEW THANK YOU FOR THIS BRAND NEW LIFE CHANGING INFORMATION!! 8 YEARS IS NOTHING, GET OVER IT. BRUTAL TRUTH. YOU'RE JUST FINDING PATHETIC EXCUSES TO HATE ON A SHIP YOU LOATHE. BUT THE SECOND I EXPRESS MY MASSIVE HATRED FOR FUNNYBUNNY/BUNNYJESTER I'M A BAD FUCKING PERSON?! (You ship it? Totally fine by me! Ship whatever the hell you want, I'm just tryna make a point.) WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?! AND LET'S JUST BE REAL FOR A MINUTE, NOBODY WOULD ACTUALLY GIVE TWO SHITS ABOUT THE AGE GAP IF JAX WAS OLDER! JUST BECAUSE THE WOMAN IS OLDER FOR A CHANGE!!! stoopid.

JUST BECAUSE IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE DOESN'T MEAN IT'S AN ILLEGAL SHIP! FUNNYBUNNY MAKES ME HELLA UNCOMFORTABLE BUT YOU WILL NEVER SEE ME HATING ON THE SHIP BECAUSE OF IT!!!

"THEY'RE SIBLINGS THOUGH!!!"

😱 THAT'S YOUR HEAD CANON BITCH! UNLESS GOOSE SPECIFICALLY SAYS "yo chat mb Jax and Ragatha are siblings lol" THEN IT ISN'T CANON! SORRY NOT SORRY! TRYNA RUIN PEOPLE'S FUN BY MAKING THEM FEEL LIKE BAD PEOPLE FOR SHIPPING 'InCeSt' HAHA VERY FUNNY. THEY DON'T EVEN ACT LIKE SIBLINGS. SAID IT AND I'M PROUD OF IT.

RAGATHA'S NOT A BAD PERSON, AND BUNNYDOLL ISN'T BAD. (also Funnybunny shippers ily, you're some of the sweetest ppl ever. Mwah!)

YOU'RE WELCOME.

PASS ME THE NEXT ONE.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc ragatha #bunnydoll #jax x ragatha #STOP BEING PATHETIC IDIOTS #thank you #im a jax and gangle are siblings girly for life #head canons #rant post #get over it #seriously #sigh #somebody back me up here

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mothimalspaces · 8 hours ago

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seeing this on the same day FA announced a new update to tagging and seeing a few of the artists i follow either go two ways.

YES NOW I NEVER HAVE TO SEE ANYTHING UPSETTING EVER AGAIN!! WOOPEEE

and everyone else is like

"jesus christ im cooked"

i tend to have way more empathy for the latter because I dont think a hyper-curated feed is neccessarily the UTMOST thing. do i like getting to see the artists i follow do stuff? sure... but i also like a healthy ecosystem of artists ive never seen before do something id never thought possible. its why getting more into multi, pooltoy, genderqueer, abdl, yadda yadda yadda. its not about the tags.. its about the fact that these things have been a part of an encompassing thing to homogenize things. over time you start to see patterns of what your little niche kink groups do, the hot blorbo of the week, these things very much are influenced by the streets and systems and platforms, and since "web2" a lot more attention was placed on "viewable" trendy shit, attention grabbing. and if you want to get anywhere you gotta get with the crowd." except cool things come from being transgressive and an expression of the artist regardless of what an "audience" wants.

a world filled with blacklists, streamlined twitter-styled tiktok styled for-you tabs, does not excite me, in fact its antithetical to art. I didnt get on tumblr to look at all the moderator-supported tumblr official good-posting.

i want to be outside of my comfort zone.

i want to see things sometimes that im not into but nontheless enriches and widens what i think is possible.

you bitches cant handle patty taxxon being genuine, up front and unconcerned of the whims of an audience.

you bitches like the idea of being challenged until you see a fat person or a weird scary queer kink and then the nunnery is opened.

im drunk on a screwdriver, anita bryant is dead and i am a day closer to a new internet war against oligarchy and fascism... i'm not going to concede in comfortability to fascists who would probably hate you as much as me.

biodiversity like a lot of types of diversity keeps an environment alive.

stagnation and recursive incestuous homogenized weighted-tags is how you get a corpse that once wore the name of a website. fuck puritans. fuck your comfort. fuck the audience.

ok im gonna go blankie mode, dumbass dog awayyyy!!

As an adult you must cultivate the skill of “Gross! Oh, well. Not my business.”

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miange1 · 1 day ago

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I NEED MORE BRIAN MOSER AHHHH

Brian Moser, with a lover that's "too sweet"

male leaning reader, brian is a freak, being nervous more than shy, arguments, accidental guilt tripping, manipulation(at first), reader gives off innocence but they're not they're just a virgin, fake names, being overly touchy, blow jobs

note: had an idea so i just used this ask as an excuse to finally post it. also if you notice typos no you don't im not fixing them

— You were his first actual relationship in which didn't involve murder or trying to get closer to Dexter. Or so he remembers, he probably had that intention at first yet completely forgot about it due to his own feelings.

— Meeting you felt like a bunch of perfumes and flowers were thrown at his face— you were smiling and speaking with him like he was your long lost friend or your boyfriend, like you knew him since forever.

"Oh! Rudy!" He instantly felt his heart speed up, feeling more nervous than he's ever been in his entire life and you weren't even calling out his real name. He needs to calm down, seriously he's sweating way too much.

"I missed you so much, how have you been?" He felt your arms wrap around him tightly, yet ater the hug your hands took his and held them as if they were the most delicate things in the world, besides you.

The man could barely get his words out, stuttering every now and then and looking away from you often. Your thumb was swiping softly over the top of his knuckles, why were you looking at him like that.

— Getting with you was the most romantic thing he has ever thought of. Taking you out to a place where it was peaceful yet beautiful, and he could confess to you and actually mean it.

— It was the best place he could find, it was hot but lovely. When he confessed, you stayed quiet for far too long and he thought you didn't want him. You were just in so much shock, it's been a bit since someone was this genuine to you.

— Floating on air is what he felt like each time he was with you. When you were able to visit his work, you showed him with kisses each and every single time even after arguments which was something he would have a heavy weight on his shoulders about.

"Debra doesn't at all have a thing for me, what the hell are you talking about!" You were blinking back heavy tears trying to see his side as best as you could, yet everything just went a bit too far. From understanding to a plain bicker.

"It's obvious she does, and she's in your office more than I am!" He rolled his eyes, his fingers on his nose and pinching the bridge. He knew Debra had a thing for him, but what he didn't know was why he lied seeing you fight for him like this. He liked seeing you get jealous.

"Because it's her job." Yet you protested, "I understand that but.." you couldn't get the rest out, starting to cry and you instantly felt embarrassed. "Sorry— shit, I'm sorry.." His upset look rested, sighing as he went closer to you for an embrace.

"No, it's my fault." He admitted, his arms squeezing your frame in a comforting manner as you cried into his chest.

He was so turned on right now.

— Brian had a bunch in which you were a virgin, he just would have never guess he was actually right about it.

— All he wanted was a small make out for a bit, yet it had escalated and you were on your knees. God, you looked so pretty.

"Ah, ah, your teeth.. Good..that's it." He leaned his head back, the warmth of your mouth and tongue working at his girth. For your first time even giving head you were real good at following his directions. You did it just how he liked it. Tongue swirling, spit mixing with what leaked from him, it was heaven.

He jutted his hips forward a bit, catching you by surprise and giving you the urge to wanna pull back, which didn't happen due to Brian's fingers tangling in your hair— and pushing your head back forward. "Doing so well, fuck.." you practically weren't evenoving anymore, and if you were you had just been going ragdoll and moving along with Brian's pulls.

His dick twitched in your mouth as he heard a gargled moan, fuck he was gonna cum just from hearing that alone. Then he'd hear you whine, almost impatiently. "Hush you're fine, just keep on— God, yes.." eyes rolling back, feeling your nose poke at his pelvis the deeper he pushed you down when he came. Letting go of your hair, he let your head fall back a bit before he forced your mouth closed.

"Swallow."

— Sooner or later he would then wonder why you were a virgin in the first place, yet you did date people for long periods of time.

"I don't know, when I asked after break up they said they just couldn't."

— He got the hint for himself.

#bottom male reader #dexter x male reader #dexter x reader #male reader #bottom reader #brian moser #brian moser x male reader #brian moser x reader #brian moser x you #dexter

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venomwrites · 2 days ago

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This fic was inspired by both the concept art of Vi using a Kiramman banner as a blanket during the pit fighter era and Caitlyn saying that arrests need cause. Cross Posted to Ao3

“Hey, Cait?”

Caitlyn glances up from her book to see Vi emerging from the bathroom. There’s a frown on her face as she holds the brown bottle of antiseptic in her hand. Caitlyn tries to think of what she could be upset about or what she could need it for. Vi is quiet a lot of the time though. More content right now to sit in front of the fire than to do anything that would get her injured. When she leans against the bathroom frame, all Caitlyn can see is unbroken skin. Her eyes are fixated on the bottle as she turns it over in her hand. Finally Caitlyn cannot take the silence any longer.

“Yes?” She prods gently, “what is it?”

“Why is this here?” Vi asks in the same tone.

“It’s antiseptic?” Caitlyn offers, unsure of the question. A brief flash of frustration creases Vi’s face, “it’s usually in the bathroom. Unless there’s somewhere else—“

“No, I mean,” Vi runs her thumb around the cap, “why are you getting your antiseptic from Zaun?”

Something cold creeps up Caitlyn’s spine. Vi’s blue grey eyes remain on her as she stares. Caitlyn swallows tightly, feeling as though she’s been caught doing something naughty. It’s on the tip of her tongue to say that it’s a common antiseptic. One that everyone can get with a few coins. Or she could mention the black market. Even though the label on the bottle says it was made in Piltover, it could have made it’s way there. Slipped past the rows and rows of Enforcers she had positioned on the bridge opening each crate with crowbars. It could have happened. But lying to Vi is not something she can bring herself to do again. Even if the desire lingers like the taste of liquor on her tongue.

“It was just a few things—“

She’s not expect Vi to look quite so betrayed as she looks down at the bottle. Even though she has every right to feel betrayed. Betrayed and so much worse. But Caitlyn can’t bear the look at this late hour as Vi grips the bottle like a lifeline and looks at her like a threat. She gets out of bed, tightening her robe and coming around to the foot of it.

“Can I explain?” She asks, “please?”

Vi nods but doesn’t move.

“I wanted to have cause for the arrests,” Caitlyn starts, “we investigated everything we could find. Including vandalism.”

Vi closes her eyes in annoyance.

“The banner.”

Caitlyn swallows tightly.

“They said you were using it as a blanket,” Caitlyn forces herself to continue, “living in that room,” her stomach rolls at the memory of the photographs, “I decided every arrest and I saw those pictures—“

“You saw pictures of me?”

It takes all of Caitlyn’s strength to appear collected and nod at the tone in Vi’s voice. She doesn’t blame her. She wouldn’t have wanted anyone to see her in that state either. It was really just two photographs but the story they told still makes Caitlyn’s stomach roll. Vi curled under the banner, somehow impossibly tiny on an already small bed. Then Vi sprawled out on the bed with a bottle by her foot, arm’s strewn about. You could count her ribs in the second picture, even through the filthy window. It had been alarming how quickly she became gaunt. Everything in Caitlyn had screamed at the sight of her state. Screamed for her to run and get her. But then she remembered those photographs were only in her possession because she was in charge of martial law. So she had thrown them into the fire and declined to arrest someone whose only crime was desperation.

“Yes,” Caitlyn says, “I declined your arrest—“

“How did you recognize me?” Vi cuts in, “only Loris and Jinx recognized me.”

“We slept next to each other for weeks,” Caitlyn points out, “how could I not recognize you?” Vi is quiet so Caitlyn continues, “I declined your arrest but I couldn’t just not do anything.”

Vi is quiet and Caitlyn wonder which insult will come out of her mouth first as she thumbs the label of the bottle. If she’s even going to want to yell at her. In a way, Caitlyn would rather have the yelling than the silence. But she can’t bring herself to interrupt Vi while she digests this latest round of betrayal. All Caitlyn can do is quietly try not to fidget and run through the list. Every time, it makes her cringe. Before Vi came back it was because she had no idea how she got away with it. It felt like so much, like such a risk. After, it was because she had no idea how to explain herself. When Vi was there, it felt woefully inefficient. How did one explain to someone that they betrayed them, abandoned them but also tried to intervene just enough so they wouldn’t die? It sounded impossibly cruel, even to Caitlyn’s ears.

“So this and what else?” Vi asks finally. Caitlyn looks at her and her eyes slowly move towards her, “all of it?” She asks in a voice that is alarmingly small.

“No,” Caitlyn says quickly and then winces, “I don’t think—“

But Vi is already on her feet, one hand dragging through her hair and the antiseptic clenched in her fist. Caitlyn knows where her mind is going. Panic thrums under her skin as she tries to correct this in some way that doesn’t have Vi running into the night in her pajamas.

“It was barely anything,” Caitlyn protests.

“You kept me alive!” Vi cries, her voice ringing with betrayal, “you—“ she drops back onto the bed next to her, “the whole time it was you.”

“No, of course not,” Caitlyn says quickly, “I hardly did anything. I’m sure a lot of it was Jinx—“

“Tenth stair, third crate, right side of the door,” Vi rattles off.

Caitlyn presses her lips together.

“I didn’t want you falling on anything,” she mutters tightly.

It had to be obvious but not too obvious so it wouldn't get stolen. Vi had to be able to find it but not realize it was left for her. It wasn’t like it was anything terribly extravagant, but it was enough. Coins wrapped in tissues and tucked into cups to look discarded. Bottles of antiseptic. Rolls of wraps and gauze. At least once a month it was a half torn shopping bag arranged to look forgotten but containing menstrual supplies and a few treats. Again it was nothing that would bring attention to itself, nothing that would matter to anyone. Except someone who had never lived alone as an adult. Someone who might not remember how to get a meal that didn’t involve sliding a tray along a line. Vi looks at the antiseptic again and Caitlyn tries to string together something. Anything. But how did one even begin to explain this? She opens her mouth and closes it again when nothing perfect comes to mind. And then she sees the wetness in Vi’s eyes and her stomach drops further.

“I should—“

“The bag was you as well, wasn’t it?” She says. Caitlyn only barely nods, “Loris said it was a great find and on my birthday,” she shakes her head, “you got me a birthday present.”

“It was your first birthday,” Caitlyn protests.

“You know I hallucinated you?” Vi says. Caitlyn stiffens, “when I was drunk I’d see you. I thought I was going crazy,” she shakes her head, “but you were there the whole time.”

“No,” Caitlyn says quickly, touching Vi’s forearm before she can overthink it, “no, I just couldn’t let you starve—“

“Or get an infection—“ Vi cuts in.

“I just didn’t want you to die,” Caitlyn mutters.

“Or not celebrate my birthday,” Vi says, turning the bottle over in her hands. She shakes her head again and looks at Caitlyn, “First time I busted my knuckles in the pit I just kind of figured what the hell,” she says, “I was just gonna leave ‘em. Or be drunk enough for the sting,” she strokes the label with her thumb absently, “I wouldn’t let Loris come up. Even though he asked. Fell flat on my face on the last step,” she shakes her head, “you pour them out yourself?”

Caitlyn fights the urge to melt in embarrassment.

“I thought you would figure it out if they were full.”

Vi makes a noise of disbelief and Caitlyn looks for something to get her off the bed. It’s a cowards move but that is par for the course with all of this. How many nights did she spend in the bathroom cursing Vi and pouring out antiseptic until it was enough to take care of whatever was wrong with her but not enough for the bottle to look full? Any window of Vi coming back to her was firmly shut while Ambessa breathed down her neck, but she couldn’t just leave her to die. No matter how angry she was, she couldn’t do that. Not when there was a chance she could prevent it. Vi gives her an impossibly fond look and that is all Caitlyn needs to lurch up from the bed.

“It was the bare minimum,” she says, “anyone would have done it—“

“Cait that’s not true—“

“Stop interrupting me!” She erupts finally.

Vi pushes herself up. Caitlyn turns to the doorframe, wrapping her arms around herself. This was not what she thought was going to happen tonight. Certainly she thought they would have the conversation some day. But she was hoping for more time before Vi realized she was just as much of a monster inside. Just a little time. Except Vi doesn’t bolt for the door or yell back. She just joins Caitlyn in the entrance to the bathroom, like she has countless times before. When the panic wins and Caitlyn can barely bring herself through the threshold. Like she has any right to be afraid anymore. But Vi sits there and hums as she showers, hums so when Caitlyn sticks her head out she can hear she isn’t about to be attacked. She’s not sure if she can stand Vi humming right now, she doesn’t deserve it. Even less than she did a few hours ago and she didn’t deserve it then.

“Why are you downplaying saving my life?” Vi asks.

“I didn’t!” Caitlyn protests, turning around, “that was Loris and Jinx and you,” she tightens her arms, “I had a few bottles of antiseptic dropped where you would find them—“ Vi opens her mouth, “and you were still covered in half infected injuries when we were at the hospital so it didn’t even work.”

Vi is quiet for a moment but Caitlyn isn’t fooled that she is going to accept what she’s said.

“The water never went off,” she says, instead of whatever Caitlyn is expecting, “the place had electricity the whole time. I thought it was Loris,” Caitlyn opens her mouth to give the credit to him, “you never stopped paying him.”

Caitlyn shakes her head.

Vi lets out a trembling breath.

“You know I pulled down that banner because it was the only warm thing I could find?” She says hoarsely, “the only thing thing that felt safe?” She drums her fingers against the brown glass, “but it wasn’t.”

Caitlyn cringes at the memory of the picture.

“You were taking care of me the whole time,” Vi says but there’s no anguish in her voice. Just that tone that slips in when something isn’t making sense, “I left you—“

“No I left you,” Caitlyn says, unable to hear her beat herself up about the fight one more time, “I was so angry I didn’t even think about the danger you would be in or how you would react,” she shakes her head, “I know it was nothing but it was all I could do.”

“Hey,” Vi is in front of her suddenly, fingers cupping her cheeks. The bottle rolls across the carpet, “this wasn’t nothing. Not to me.”

Caitlyn can’t help but turn her cheek into the warmth of Vi’s hand as her thumbs brush along her cheekbones.

“I was still mad,” Caitlyn whispers, steeling herself for the motion to stop.

But instead she’s greeted by a warm chuckle as it continues.

“You take care of everyone you’re mad at?” Vi teases, like they both don’t know the answer to that question.

Caitlyn guides VI’s hands down and clasps them in her own. It used to be so easy to do this. To tell people the perfect thing, to choose her words with such care they would get the desired result. But Vi has always been uniquely good at squirming past the games. She squirms past Caitlyn’s politicians tongue and curls somewhere deep in her chest. The places she’s been told never to truly let people in. But Vi curls there all the same, too far in to every truly be cast out. Even in those dark, awful moments when Caitlyn half wishes she could. When she tells herself it would be better if she could.

“I knew this was your first time being alone in seven years,�� she says softly, “just because we were apart didn’t mean I wanted you to suffer,” she looks down at their joined hands, “when I saw you were, I couldn’t just sit here.”

Vi tugs her fingertips into her palms and tangles their fingers together. She squeezes Cailtyn’s hands until she looks up to see Vi’s bright eyes looking at her. Vi says nothing but she drops her hands and folds her arms around Caitlyn. There’s something about Vi’s embrace that makes her body relax. It used to scare her. The guilt was cloying when Vi hugged her and she felt safe. What right did she have to feel safe when the world had just been destroyed? When they parted ways, one of the most cutting regrets she had was how quickly she ended their embraces. She can’t remember if she told Vi that or if she pieced it together, but now when Vi folds her into an embrace she always tangles a hand in something. Hair, her jacket, some layer so when Caitlyn pulls back there’s a tug that makes her pause. This time it’s her robe and Caitlyn feels her warm, calloused palm settle against her bare shoulder.

“Thanks for getting me though it,” Vi says softly, lips close to her ear.

Caitlyn presses her nose to the juncture of Vi’s shoulder and her neck. Vi smells like fresh soap and beeswax and lately her own conditioner. It’s rapidly becoming Caitlyn’s favorite smell in the world. She is stupidly grateful to breathe it in as another truth settles between them. Vi’s thumb rubs against her shoulder as Caitlyn sinks into her embrace. The nerves seem to escape her and she feels impossibly tired as Vi holds her. There’s a soft almost laugh as Vi shifts and slips her arms around her. It’s silly for it to feel so nice to be carried, but Caitlyn relaxes into the easy warmth of the embrace as Vi brings her back to bed. When she goes to pull back, Caitlyn catches her wrist. Vi smiles and slips into bed, wrapping her arms around her again.

“So how many bottles did you throw?” Vi asks into her shoulder.

“A lot,” Caitlyn replies, “why do you think the curtains changed color?”

Vi snorts softly against her skin. The notion of Caitlyn getting annoying and tossing around bottles of antiseptic as she tried to figure out how to care for Vi from afar without her realizing doesn’t seem to lessen how Vi feels about the gesture. If anything it makes her snuggle closer to Caitlyn. Her fingers undo the knot of her robe belt so she can be more comfortable before settling on her waist again.

“Are you mad I didn’t tell you immediately?” Caitlyn asks into the darkness. Vi shakes her head against her neck, “why?"

“Are you mad I figured it out?” Vi asks. Caitlyn shakes her head in return. Vi pushes her hair back and brushes her lips against Caitlyn’s neck, “why would I be mad you saved my life?”

Caitlyn sighs.

“When you put it like that I sound completely foolish,” she mutters. Vi smiles against her neck, “alight, fair point,” Caitlyn concedes, “I just wish I could have done more.”

“Come on, Cupcake,” she says, pulling her from the miserable thoughts with the nickname, “we both know it wasn’t that easy.”

They’ve played this out a million times before. What if they had emerged from that temple together somehow? What if Vi had been there when Ambessa made her declaration? Each route ends more bloody or sad than the last. War, death, imprisonment, heartbreak—a thousand gruesome fates. None of which end with them tangled in bed picking at wounds and nuzzling kisses over hurts. The best route Caitlyn can think of, the one Vi cajoles from her lips one terrible night, is Salo starting a war that leaves both of them dead. The one truth that seems to ring through is the separation saved both their lives. It’s a trade Vi makes without a second thought and only later does Caitlyn realize it’s because she’s done it before. Every night Caitlyn vows to do everything in her power to make sure she never has to make it again.

“I’m glad it helped,” Caitlyn whispers, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad we’re here,” Vi tells her.

For tonight, that’s more than enough.

#caitvi #piltover's finest #caitlyn kiramman #vi #arcane

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horsechestnut · 3 days ago

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I think my ideal Steph, Cass, and Tim dynamic would be that they're all best friends, but they can not all hang out together. Like, if you ask any one of them who their best friend is they genuinely will not be able to pick between the other two, but all three of them together triggers each of their insecurities in the worst way and always leads to a fight.

Like, Steph and Cass are so affectionate with each other, and constantly flirting and Tim assumes their teasing, but what if they're not, and oh god is he third wheeling on a date between his ex-girlfriend and his sister? They don't actually want him here, they invited him to be nice and he was to oblivious to realize it wasn't genuine. He should leave. But before he can come up with a believable excuse they've changed topics and... hang on, did Steph just say her dad threw a book at her once? Because so much of Steph and Cass's relationship is built on an understanding that they won't make a big deal when they mention something messed up about their past that they just say stuff like that, but Tim does not have that same understanding. So Tim hears that and instead of rolling with it, it's "Steph you can't just say that like it's not a big deal... why is Cass laughing? You can't laugh at that it's fucked up! I don't care that it was a long time ago!" And now Cass is confused and Steph is angry and Tim feels like shit for probably ruining what they wanted to be a date and frustrated that he's being treated like he's overreacting despite being the only one with a normal reaction to child abuse. Mostly he's terrified that he screwed this whole thing up somehow and neither of them is going to want to hang out with him again.

Meanwhile Steph and Tim are so intrinsically linked to each other. They've shared things they will never share with anyone else, they were each others first love. And Cass understands that, she does, but it's hard sometimes seeing how easy they are with each other. The way Steph knows Tim's upset without having to read his body langue the way Cass does or Tim can predict exactly how late Steph will be to any given situation. More than that though, what truly makes her want to hide away from them, is the history they both had but didn't share. The sly comments about Tim looking like a character Cass has never heard of or jokes that make no sense but send Steph into laughing fits. The kind that when she asks are brushed off with "it was an old meme" or "just a show from when we were kids". The reminders that she isn't normal, she can never really be like them. If she doesn't ask most of the time it doesn't occur to them to explain, it seems so obvious to them. They start doing a synchronized dance from some movie that came out when they were in middle school and Cass slips away into the shadows. Later she gets a string of concerned text that slowly turn angry when she doesn't answer. Cass never tells them what was wrong.

And it's hard for Steph to look at Cass and Tim and not feel jealous, because more than just being friends, they're siblings. They are full members of the club, Bruce's children, let into the fold in a way she never can be. She doesn't even want to be anymore if she's being honest, but it still stings. They'll casually mention family dinner or reference inside jokes from the last Wayne charity whatever and Steph will feel the growing desire in her chest that she can not, under any circumstances, let anyone see. The desire that has caused her so much pain, she will not give it control over her again. And Cass calls Tim Robin sometimes, and he calls Cass Batgirl in return, and Steph has to bite back the urge to scream at them that she was Robin too! She is also a Batgirl! But it doesn't matter because she wasn't Cass's Robin or Tim's Batgirl, and it drives her insane that they're romanticizing that time, because don't they remember how much of an asshole Bruce was back then? And now Tim is mad at her for bring up the past as if they're not the ones who started it, and Cass is assuring her that Bruce has changed, and maybe he has, but it's to fucking late! He already ruined any chance of Steph every feeling fully comfortable with her place in their lives. So she storms off, fuming, leaving a baffled Tim and Cass to go enjoy their stupid family dinner.

So yeah, they are best friends. They all love each other more than they know how to say, and trust each other more than anyone else in the world. But they can never all hang out together. That only ever ends in disaster.

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noirsdoll · 3 days ago

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I just wanna be beaten then babied by my misogynistic husband curly :(

OH MY GOD nonnie this is so good ugh trad misogynist curly is always on my mind!! imagining him as a husband from the 1950’s… cw for domestic abuse and misogyny!

curly has an unshakeable habit of taking his frustrations out on you. anya said he was losing it, but how can that be true when putting his hands on you keeps him sane?

you are this perfect pretty thing that gravitates toward him like a sunflower on a cloudless day. exchanging vows with you was one of the best decisions of his life.

though, none of that matters when he is angry.

he can’t help it, suddenly everything you do is a problem, suddenly his big, burly, teddy bear nature becomes intimidating. he is so much bigger than you, stronger than you, more capable than you— and he makes sure you realize that, littering you with bruises of his own making.

curly tells himself that he does it out of love, that this is the only type of correction that women understand—and you do listen. you never make the same mistake again. you squeeze yourself into something small, dismissible, something that looks pretty slotting into his side in public.

he always invalidates your feelings whenever you get upset. dumb thing, you don’t even realize it because he’s saying it to you so sweetly. “don’t worry, sweetheart. just focus on what you’re good at, yeah?” which is cooking and cleaning— those are a woman’s job in curly’s eyes. he handles everything else for you.

and it’s not all bad. when curly calms down and the red fades from his vision, his rough hands turn so gentle. he takes a knee at your level where you’re crumpled up on the floor, smoothing your disheveled hair from your eyes, gingerly running his fingers over each swollen patch of skin. “i’m doing this for your own good, okay honey?” curly loves you, he really does.

he never truly apologizes or takes responsibility for what he did, but he fucks you so sweetly the following night, trailing kisses over your purpled flesh and calling you his “perfect little housewife.” and the way you squeeze around his dick is the perfect reminder of why he keeps you around.

#🕸️—asks #mouthwashing #curly x reader smut #mouthwashing curly x reader #curly x reader #curly x you #mouthwashing curly #curly mouthwashing #🕸️—drabbles

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achilles-rage · 2 days ago

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hiiii hope im not to late to your prompt party.

how about “tracing a finger across your lover’s scar” and “kissing your lovers forehead or knuckles” for Buck

because I’m a cool lightning strike scar truther 🫙

yess i’m so glad i got a fluffy prompt request!! i was expecting mostly smut ones, so i love this!! this is also an idea i've had for a while, but never got around to writing, so i'm glad i finally got to write it!! also, i know these scars wouldn’t last that long, but just pretend<3

"tracing a finger across your lover's scar" and "kissing your lovers forehead or knuckles" from this post

you still remember the night there was a knock on your door. you weren’t expecting anyone, which was the first red flag, but when you looked through the peephole and saw the familiar fabric of an lafd uniform, you knew something was terribly wrong.

you could barely look at buck shirtless for weeks; the lightning scars across his torso too painful of a reminder of when you saw him in the hospital. of when his heart stopped.

3 minutes and 17 seconds.

when buck had finally noticed what you were doing; turning the a/c up so it was too cold for him to sleep shirtless, and always coming up with excuses to either of you taking off clothes during sex, he finally pieced everything together.

“baby, what’s going on? why don’t you want to see me anymore?” he asks, arms crossed over his chest as he stands in front of you in your shared bedroom.

you blink slowly, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you take in his hurt expression. you don’t want to tell him the truth, you don’t want to make it into a big deal. and you especially don’t want to face that he had died. not again.

“i can’t look at those scars everyday, buck. it fucking hurts.” you tell him, voice cracking.

his brows furrow as he studies your face, and then his expression falls, realization dawning on his face.

“what, you think they’re ugly? you don’t think i’m attractive anymore?” you can see the tears in his eyes, and you shake your head quickly, closing the distance between the two of you and cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“oh, baby, no. of course not.” you assure him in a soft voice. you can’t believe yourself; you’ve put your needs completely over his. you didn’t even think of how this would look to him. “it’s just that, all i think about when i see those scars is how you left me. you died, buck, and then you were in a hospital bed, in a coma. you have no idea what that was like for me. for a while, we didn’t even know if you’d even wake up.”

he lets out a shaky breath as a tear runs down his cheek, nodding slowly at your words. it’s true, he doesn’t know what that was like, and he feels an odd sense of guilt filling his belly.

“i’m sorry. i just thought that-” he whispers, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against yours as he lets out a long sigh.

you shake your head, smiling sadly as you keep his face right against yours, feeling a tear fall down your own cheek.

“don’t you dare apologize. i’m sorry. i didn’t think about how you’d take what i was doing. your scars aren’t ugly. at all. you’re still you, and you’re still as handsome as you were without your scars, i promise. it was only ever about the memories attached to those scars.” you tell him, voice firm enough for him to believe you, yet soft enough to know that you’re not upset in any way.

you feel him nod against your forehead, and you finally pull back from him and place a kiss on his forehead, lips lingering on his skin for a second or two longer than normal.

“i love you.” you whisper when you pull back, smile softly as you see the sadness and uncertainty melting from his features. “now take off your shirt.”

he raises a brow, a glimpse of his usual self coming back as he smirks down at you and places his hands on your hips.

“are you trying to get me naked, pretty girl?” he teases, and you laugh softly, shrugging.

“just your shirt, lover boy. wanna see you.” you tell him with a smile, turning him around and pushing him down to sit on the bed.

he pulls his shirt off quickly, and when it’s off, you’re quick to straddle his lap and push his back down onto the bed. you let your fingers drag across his skin, tracing the patterns of the scar littering his torso. your eyes follow the path of your fingers, touch feather-light as you take in every dark patch of skin.

buck can feel his heart pounding in his chest as he watches you, eyes darting between your face and your fingers as his hands squeeze your hips, keeping you firmly in place.

when you finally look back up at him, you smile, fingers still pressed against his chest.

“beautiful boy.” you whisper, then lean down and begin to press gentle kisses to his scars, starting at the tips of each lightning strike, then moving up and kissing where each branch of lightning separates from the other, moving in different directions across his tan skin.

he doesn’t know what to do as he relishes in your touch, your attention to his scars feeling so overwhelming and mind numbing. he hadn’t told anyone, but he’s a little insecure about his scars. everyone tells him how cool they look, but he just doesn’t see it. it just reminds him of what happened to him, and what he could’ve lost.but, now, he doesn’t feel bad about them at all, because you like them, and that’s all that matters.

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miamooooo · 1 day ago

Text

josh putting a bratty reader in their place.

(warnings): nsfw, reader has female anatomy, pussy spanking, cunnilingus, overstimulation, spitting, slightly proofread, sorry for any typos!

yes josh loves a mouthy or sassy partner. josh gives off vibes of enjoying someone with a little brattiness to their personality because he loves how unpredictable you are. he finds it so easy to tease you, and he thinks it's both cute and hot when you don't take his shit and call him out. but he also enjoys putting you in your place if he needs to as well.

so imagine getting mouthy with josh after he asks you a simple question. you're giving him the nastiest attitude, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms.. and at first he thinks maybe you're just having a bad day, so he lets it slide... not without a few jokes that pisses you off, obviously. but if it persists...

josh is murmuring to himself as he makes his way to the bedroom. he stops by the doorway, forearm resting on the frame before he speaks. "hey babe, do you uh know the last place i left my hoodie?"

you look up from your phone, letting out a dramatic sigh before meeting josh's gaze. "really.. again? maybe if you took better care of your stuff, you wouldn't have to ask me every five seconds."

josh is so used to your smart mouth by now because he's awfully calm, tilting his head at you and pretending to be hurt by your little comment. "ouch. is that how you talk to your boyfriend?"

you roll your eyes at him, knowing that he was already starting to entertain the situation and enjoy it a little too much. "josh, don't piss me off.. you really don't wanna get me upset right now."

josh laughs at your pouty face, pushing off the doorframe and making his way closer to your sitting form on the bed. "oh, wouldn't i?" he teasingly ask. he really couldn't take you serious when you looked so cute trying to be all mean to him.

"you're so damn cute," he murmurs, leaning down and gently cupping your jaw in his hand. "but if you keep this up, i'm gonna have to remind you who you're talking to. alright, sweetheart?"

for a moment, the only thing you can do is stare up at him, contemplating if you should say something snarky back, and he's just waiting for the moment.. you can tell. he knows it'll happen, but you wanna try and prove him wrong.

... which is why you couldn't resist and replied with something bratty..

... which is also why you're in the current predicament of josh in between your thighs, lapping hungrily at your drooling and overstimulated cunt. this was the third time he was making you cum and no he didn't care about the way you were tugging sharply on his hair or how you whined out that it was all "too much," because you should've thought about that when he warned you the first time.

"mmh ohh fuck..!" you cried out, your voice trembling and legs threatening to close around josh's head, but his hands are moving to firmly grip your thighs, forcing them to stay open. he was purposely ignoring your cries of his name, his tongue flicking your puffy clit, humming in amusement at the way you babble out incoherent sentences.

you're moaning and drooling and josh loves how obedient you are when you're like this, how you're crying out strings of "..i'msorry-! promise i'll be good..!" and man he really wants to take your word for it, but he's gotten used to those empty promises, not even those pretty little tears could save you.

josh briefly pulls his head back, giving you false hope that he's finally giving you a break, only for him to spit directly on your clit before he's messily circling his tongue around the sensitive bud again, licking up his own saliva mixed with your arousal.

you're so out of it — eyes rolled into the back of your head, thighs trembling with the urge to cum again — you couldn't help the way you frantically started to buck your hips into his face until your cumming all over josh's mouth and chin.

"fuckfuckfuck- i'm cumming..!"

josh eagerly laps up your cum before pulling back and wiping his mouth, admiring his handiwork. he loved seeing you like this. whiny and so sensitive.. and completely not like your usual bratty self. he laughs softly to himself, impressed by how he's got you like a puddle just from eating you out, he could almost feel bad for you!

he brings his hand between your thighs to cup your overstimulated cunt, laughing when you're flinching at his touch and closing your legs around his hand. "keep 'em open, hon..." he warns softly, prying your legs back open with his free hand and pinning one of your thighs against the bed.

"mm-mm, no more..! too much.." you cry out, frustrated tears pricking the corner of your eyes that makes him fake a sympathetic pout.

"oh no.. oh no, no, no.." josh murmurs playfully, eyes softening at your vulnerable state as his fingers continue to caress your folds, coaxing moans and whines from your throat. he's so unserious, and it's absolutely infuriating. "don't tell me you're tapping out.."

and just when you think that he's finished having his fun with you, he's removing his hand — not giving you a second for a breather before he's bringing it down to land a sharp smack directly to your wet cunt, making you moan out in shock and instinctively shut your legs around his hand again.

josh tuts disapprovingly, firmly pulling your legs apart again, his amused eyes meeting your glossy ones. "close your legs again, and i'm tying you down next."

"mnh, josh—!"

"keep. them. open."

you're crying out loudly again, eyes screwing shut and body jolting softly as he continues to smack your sensitive and weeping pussy with every punctuated word.

it feels like it goes on for so long. you're trembling after each slap, struggling to be good and take what he's giving you, and josh just loved having you wrapped around his finger like this!

"that's it, sweetie... just a little more. i know you can take it." he coaxes with a few more teasing slaps before he's finally relenting and smoothing his hand over your sore skin.

by the end of it you're whimpering, chest heaving with relieved sighs as josh wipes away your stray tears. he coos at you in the most mocking way possible and gosh he just really didn't think that it was enough. he wanted to ruin you some more.

"are you gonna be good now?" josh asked, that stupid sarcasm still laced in his voice.

"m..mhm!" you frantically nod, hiccuping and whining out soft pleas as josh's gaze flicker over your tear-stained face. he stays silent for a moment, his fingers continuing to massage over your stinging and puffy folds that has you letting out soft whines. he's teasing you, letting the silence stretch for a moment longer before finally letting out a playful 'nah.'

"i don't think you're telling me the truth, hon!"

josh is nowhere near done with you! not even after hearing those soft and broken cries. if you could be bratty even after he warned you to behave, then you can handle what he gives you.

#until dawn josh #josh washington #josh washington smut #until dawn smut #josh washington x reader #until dawn x reader #rami malek x reader #joshua washington #until dawn headcanons

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thetadispatcher · 6 hours ago

Text

"It's fine, no harm done." Sure the interaction had been far more unpleasant for him, but it hadn't damaged him in anyway. It had merely left the sensitive sensors in his hand tingling and caused him to be forced to reboot, but the information he'd been forcefully given hadn't corrupted his memory or been corrupted itself.

He'd been able to make sense of and properly view the overwhelming amount of data once he'd come back online, the entire event had only taken a few seconds so Strasky didn't have the time necessary to start thinking he'd broken Dan. So, the android only had to deal with the man apologizing for not warning him sooner, and for the things he'd been forced to witness.

Dan was just glad he now had a system to keep Strasky from getting worked up over seeing the androids Brent was currently building. He only had to get someone to distract the man well Brent preformed the functions test on them as that caused the skin to activate, making it harder for Strasky to look at them and keep his composure. So he had Sixty play the distraction as Brent preformed the test on the newly completed android.

Sixty did as he'd been silently instructed to do, he began fiddling with something breakable which caused Strasky to quickly try to get the item away from him. The RK800 played keep away with the man until Brent shut the android down and set it aside with the first one, then he let Strasky snag the glass decoration from him and set it back on the shelf.

"I estimate this will take an hour to complete the entire order, now that the new computers are here." Brent responded calmly, he was clearly used to dealing with impatient humans given how well he handled the behavior. "If you wish to, you can join the military units in the dining room. I believe they are playing a card game, one where you win by lying. So it should be entertaining for you, even if you cannot join in on one of their more extreme rules." The JB300 felt Agent Bishop would likely enjoy the games the military units played, even if he couldn't use the tool they did to weaken and shut down most of their functions.

Personally, he didn't understand why they liked to play something that was a less extreme version of roulette, but as long as it kept them entertained he wouldn't judge.

Vincent glanced at his black and purple uniform as Peter giggled to himself, he was as accustomed to the human's strange behavior as Dan was. So, the AP700 would find himself frequently trying to understand the odd and cryptic things the human said to him. He only stopped when Dan mentally reminded him that it was best to just brush it off, seeing as Peter likely just found noting Vincent's favorite color funny due to being under the influence of the painkillers.

The yellow and red of Vincent's LED shifted to blue as he looked up at the other android, clearly finding his presence comforting as his stress levels fell significantly. He held up the crochet wolf he'd just finished outfitting with a yellow rain coat, silently waiting for the other's opinion on it as the yellow returned to his blue LED.

"Sometimes I make notes on the more absurd things he says, they range from questionable to outlandish. Usually they're just things he blurts out well upset. Although I don't know if most would make sense as a fortune, or if people would want quotes from the guy who told Elijah Kamski to suck his dick." Dan felt androids would like Peter more due to him telling off the whole of Cyberlife, and the boy had enough humans that didn't like him supporting androids.

"'I'm the video game boy, I'm the one who wins.' Is a personal favorite of mine in terms of things he's yelled at me because I was beating him. He's also tried to convince me clearly broken controllers weren't actually broken, 'the exposed wires help it breathe better' was an interesting one. I could go on, but some of my favorites are just from him forgetting I'm not a human, or just how common it is for him to crack himself up."

Dan chuckled slightly as he glanced at Peter, who'd finally passed out in his arms. He still knew better then to put him to bed as Peter would wake up the moment he couldn't hear the beating of the PL600's thirium pump and his pump regulator, it was a sound he noted calmed Peter and provided him comfort.

"It took me a bit to get used to how much he screams, but that's probably due to my own experiences with it." Daniel piped up, he had grown accustomed to Peter's rage fits and how they were harmless to him. "Now, I find it funny to watch him loose his mind over something like chess. I never knew someone raising their voice at me would be amusing."

Sixty turned to Willow once he was certain he'd no longer be need, excitedly motioning for her to follow him, so he could finally show her the room where they stored whatever Vincent made during his visits.

"Empathy is a wonderful gift." Willow said, eyeing Dan, "Perhaps I should have mentioned to be careful while handling Strasky."

It was hard to ignore the structure gel going off now that she knew what to be on the lookout for. She was glad all that information being dumped on him at once had not caused him to overload like it did with the brain scans.

Deviants were simply built different perhaps.

"In other words, we have commissioned a young genius who must be kept on a leash." Bishop mused.

"You keep yours in a jar." Rook pointed, getting a confused look from the android, "Do you even have to ask?"

"Not at all." He shot Bishop a skeptic look, before heading back to where Vincent was.

Bishop crossed his arms, "So, how much longer do we have to wait? There is work I have to get back to."

"You guys should write down what he says and put it in fortune cookies." Rook suggested, "It's so cryptic everybody would love them."

#kingedbishop

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urinarythreatinfection · 2 days ago

Text

Is This Love?

Luffy x Male Reader. Angst and fluff. I said slowburn but this is more average burn, my bad. 2235 words. Small allusion to Whole Cake Island. Part one, Part two

Desc: Sanji reminisces on his conversation with Luffy with you and then other stuff happens.

Sanji flicks at his lighter, finally lighting his cigarette and taking a breath as he looks onto the night sea. He’s on nightwatch. ‘Well, I was going to be awake in 2 hours anyway.’ He tells himself, considering he wakes up at 5am. ‘Wonder how Luffy’s holding up.’ He remembers that the captain was restless before, he hopes that wasn’t enough to make him fall asleep on duty. ‘I’ll check up on him.’ He turns and walks over to Luffy’s side of the ship, seeing the rubber man laying down on the Sunny’s head. ‘Is he seriously asleep!?’ The chef runs up to the head. “Luffy! Hey!” No answer, but when Sanji hops onto the figurehead to scold him he finds his friend with his eyes open. Awake, just… silent. “What’s up with you?” He’s confused.

“Sanji, can you-”

‘He’s going to ask me to make him something, isn't he.’ It clicks in Sanji’s mind, however..

“-tell me about romantic love.” it isn’t that at all. Sanji’s eyes widen and he almost chokes on his cigarette. Love? Romantic love? And this question is from Luffy!? “...Is this… about (Y/n)?” He asks cautiously and Luffy nods. That explains it. “So this is why you were restless.” He sighs, not knowing whether to be anxious or relieved that this is the reason his captain’s been acting off. “You don’t have to force yourself to learn about it, Luffy. (Y/n) isn’t the type of guy to need that out of you.” A cloud of smoke is let out into the night air. “He’s probably already moving on from it.” Instead of a hum or answer Sanji sees a frown on Luffy’s face. ‘What’s with that look?’

“He’s moving on so easy? He said he was in love with me, but he’s already getting over it?” There’s an upset tone in his voice.

“Why are you complaining about it?” Sanji’s confused, he knows Luffy to be bratty and selfish at times but like this? “Were you planning to just lead him on?” Luffy looks up at the chef.

“Lead him on?” He tilts his head.

“Yeah, string him along. Keep him always loving you even if you don’t feel the same, just because it makes you feel better about yourself. Not caring if it hurts them.” This is disappointing, he’d thought the rubber man’s selfishness would at least not harm his crewmate’s emotions like this. Even if he’s harsh to you due to your status as a man, Sanji still cares for you. However, Luffy scrambles to get up and latches onto the chef, gripping his shoulders.

“Is that what I’m doing!?” He’s panicked, freaking Sanji out a bit.

“If you don’t love someone and just use them to feel better that’s exactly what you’re doing.” Still, he answers. In response to that Luffy slowly lowers himself onto his feet, looking down.

“Using him… Hurting him.” That’s not.. what he wants at all, but he doesn’t want you to stop loving him either. Sanji looks down at his captain and realizes that his face is turning red. He’s using his brain too much.

“Hey you don’t have to think so hard about it.” It’s starting to worry him, what if he overheats or something? “Just don’t lead on someone you don’t love back.”

“But I do love him!” He shouts. “I just don’t know about the whole—in love thing. I don’t like that he doesn’t smile at me like before and that he doesn’t pick me up! He doesn’t even..” Luffy pauses, putting a hand on his head as he speaks in a quieter voice. “He doesn’t even pet my hair anymore. (Y/n) used to do it all the time but it’s been a week since he did it. Even when I did good stuff while keeping my hat off he doesn’t do anything.” The chef goes silent, Luffy eventually continuing. “He said all that stuff about loving me then just.. left me alone.” After a few moments Sanji reaches up and pets the captain’s hair, but the captain puts his straw hat on his head in response.

“Felt different?” The blonde asks and Luffy nods. “Then maybe (Y/n)’s different.” Sanji isn’t a love expert either, but he has felt romantic love before; and had his heart hurt because of it. “It feels different, love like that.”

“Is there something wrong… with me?” Luffy clutches the rim of his hat, stressed. He seems so small like this, so vulnerable with insecurity. It reminds Sanji of his own insecurities, and how this boy, so bright and carefree, accepted all of it. He can’t leave his friend, his captain like this. The blonde puts out his cigarette and takes a deep breath, speaking.

“I’m not going to stand here and pretend like you have no faults or that there’s nothing different about you. You rush into things, hate doing anything you find even a little boring, and do everything you can to empty our fridge. It’s annoying.” He thinks about their journey so far. “But you’ve been my captain and friend for over two years and I know for sure that your faults are a part of you; they don’t make you ‘wrong’. And if it does, then everyone on this ship is the same, because we’re here with you. Including (Y/n).” Sanji’s done bad things to Luffy, to the rest of the crew, and in his opinion he’s the one with the most faults; but Luffy accepted him. “You told me my faults make me who I am, that they’re somehow all the things good about me, so it’s the same for you. You rush in to help people, work hard on things that you love,” The chef looks away. “and, well, in a way breaking into the fridge has made the crew smarter about safety.” He says with a sigh before looking back at the smaller man. “So if you insult yourself like this then you’re insulting all of us, Captain.” Luffy looks up at Sanji, eyes twinkling with the light inside him that had been clouded with insecurity.

____________________

“DID HE CRY!? WAS HE CRYING!?” You grip onto Sanji’s shoulders, shaking him before getting a hard kick to the stomach and falling to your knees.

“Calm down.” The chef says, annoyed. “No, he didn’t cry.” Despite the pain in your gut, that gives you solstice. “He went silent for a bit before smiling and almost suffocating me with a hug.”

“I still made him stressed, though…” Horrible, bad friend, bad crewmate.

“Stop focusing on only that part. I told you this because of what he said, what he did. Luffy is acting differently not because he thinks you’re some sort of creep that confessed to him. It’s because you’re different to him, yet left him alone.” He puts a foot on your head, talking through gritted teeth “You should know by now that leaving him alone is the worst thing you could do to him. He already hates it when anyone does it but now you do it?” It stings but not as much as your mistake.

“I didn’t know I was acting that different, I was just trying to get my mind off of it and let him forget about it too.” The faster you moved on the faster things could go back to normal. You sigh, you can’t believe you’re getting emotional advice from Sanji. He takes his foot off of your head and you stand up. Still, even if you’re different to Luffy it doesn’t mean it’s necessarily love. It could just be a special care, but that could be Luffy’s form of love. Sigh, maybe you’re just making things too complicated. You just don’t want to force him into something he doesn’t feel, making him confuse his platonic feelings for romantic ones because you gain from it. You’re not underestimating him enough to think of him as some sort of clueless baby, he’s got emotional maturity, but the things that Luffy doesn’t know about he really doesn’t know about. You have this knowledge now, about how he feels, but what now? You don’t want to force him, accidentally or not, but you also don’t know if you can just pretend you didn’t hear this. Especially when you know now how stressed it made your captain and love.

“Did you already move on?” You break from your thoughts at the sound of Sanji’s voice.

“No.. I’ve been trying to but I’ve just gotten more used to keeping myself calm around him, trying to be as platonic as I can.” However much you can be with Luffy, anyway. He’s always touchy but trying to endure that adorable behavior is too much for you to handle right now. “Thanks, Sanji.”

“You’re welcome,” He smiles. “I’ll put away the dishes so go think or something.” It immediately fades as the chef puts out his cigarette and makes a shooing motion before turning to the dishes.

‘I’m different, huh?’ You think to yourself as you leave the kitchen. While pondering you spot Luffy and Usopp fishing. On cue, the rubber man moves his hat from on his head to resting around his neck. It reminds you of what Sanji told you, about Luffy keeping his hair uncovered so you can pet it. He must’ve used his haki to check if it was you when he heard the door open. You walk over and Luffy not-so-subtly pushes his bucket of fish where you can see. Usopp, in return, pulls his bucket to be more hidden so you focus on his friend’s. What a bro. You know how he feels now, but you still end up nervous. “Nice catches, Luf.” When you speak he perks up, then looks back at you with shiny eyes. You talked to him!

“They’ll be tasty too!” He says proudly, though he looks strangely tense. You hesitate for a moment before reaching your hand down and petting the rubber man’s head. His eyes sparkle and his smile brightens as he lets out a happy “shi shi shi”, his body untensing. He doesn’t pull away, look uncomfortable, or stare at you weird. You didn’t mess up. You continue to pet him for an unknown amount of time, the both of you relishing in the feeling, before his line starts to move, pulling so hard he almost falls over the railing. You catch him by the back of his shirt, allowing him to plant his feet on the ground and start pulling.

“How huge is this thing!?” Usopp yells as he tries to help Luffy but is stopped.

“I don’t need help, I can do this!” The rubber man tells him, determined as he pulls harder. The fish struggles and struggles but is pulled up and forced out of the sea. It’s giant! The shadow looms over all over you before it flops hard onto the ship’s deck, flopping around before Luffy punches it in the head, finishing off his big catch. The star fisherman hops up onto the fish and yells with his arms in the air. “I dedicate this catch to (Y/n)!”

“To—To me!?” You point at yourself while Luffy laughs, music to your ears. This is why he was trying so hard, why he was determined to do it on his own. It was all for you. His eyes meet yours, bright and joyful as your heart thumps out of your chest. Is he courting you!? Is this courting!?

“I don’t think (Y/n) can eat all of this before it goes bad.” Chopper points out with a hoof on the fish’s scales. Sanji comes out of the kitchen and spots the fish.

“That was the rocking, I’ll have to get working on this.” He says while studying the new ingredient, but the captain shakes his head.

“I’ll do it.” He states, still determined.

“As if! You’d ruin the whole thing!”

“But I caught it for (Y/n)!” Luffy whines and Sanji looks at you.

“For him?” He puts together what’s going on and sighs. “Idiot, how do you expect him to eat it if you make it inedible. Just let me cook it.”

“No! I’ll do it!” He really isn’t relenting.

“Luffy I can’t eat this whole thing, and Sanji can cook it for everyone.” The captain still pouts. “I’ll eat most of it,” You climb up onto the fish and reach your arms out, pulling Luffy into a hug and his eyes widen. “Thank you for catching it for me, I love it.” The captain’s eyes widen and something starts to happen, his face gets hot and he can feel his heart thumping. When you pull away to talk to Sanji about the catch he still feels weird.

“???” “?” He’s dizzy, looking at his hands while confusion fills his head. What’s going on? Did pulling the fish make him tired?? Is it poisonous? But neither Sanji nor Chopper said anything about it. Weird weird weird! You feel a rush of wind as Luffy runs past you, bursting into the ship and past Robin who notices his red face before he’s gone.

“Oh my.” She says with a giggle as she walks out onto the deck.

“Whuh?” You stand there confused. Did he have to piss or something? Robin looks at you, a knowing smile on her face. It seems she doesn’t have to worry so much after all.

There you go chat, pretty gangster right? I was p stumped on it at first after getting the Sanji part done but then got some spark and kept writing. The captain's cute, right? Leave a comment about how adorable the Lufster is if you agree.

#one piece #anime only #one piece x reader #fanfiction #luffy x reader #luffy x male reader #male reader #monkey d luffy x reader #angst #fluff #one piece angst #Is This Love?

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