#'once i get used to it' YOU HAVE FIVE DAYS

[rufflebuttercup]

romance analysis unit | spencer reid

summary: you like spencer. spencer likes you. somehow, you're the only ones on the team who can't see it - and that calls for some BAU intervention.

a/n: i had a bit of an impulsive moment and decided to delete my old blog (vintagecarat) because i wanted a redo, so if you've seen a variation of this fic before, it’s not been stolen - i promise! this is my favourite x reader i've ever written, so i had to rewrite it, of course!

enjoy the fic, and have a fantastic day! <3 requests are open!

note(s): gn!reader & no pronouns used, mention of alcohol, mention of canon-typical violence, reader gets hurt, mentions of blood, one bed trope

word count: 5,173

One year, seven months and sixteen days. That's how long it had been since you'd started working at the BAU.

One year, seven months and nine days. That's how long it had been since you'd realized that you had a sickeningly huge crush on Spencer Reid.

It had been a long time since you'd had a crush. The last time had been in elementary school, and you'd been convinced that you were in love with the boy who sat two seats to the left of you in class. He’d gone on to marry your best friend and leave you with a broken heart. In hindsight, though, you were only five.

You'd fallen for people before, and you'd had a string of partners in the past, but it had been such a long time since you'd felt the way you did when you looked at Spencer. Seeing him smile made your heart thud erratically in your chest. Hearing him ramble made you smile in the giddiest and most euphoric way possible. Feeling his fingers brush against yours whenever he handed you your morning coffee made your brain turn to mush and left you unable to form a coherent sentence for at least ten minutes. You were trying your hardest to break that last habit, though.

Your crush on Spencer quickly became a topic that you knew you wanted to keep a secret from the rest of the team. The last thing you needed was all of your progress as the newest team member to be weighed down by a crush that made you blush and giggle like a child.

During a particularly wild night out with the team, though, your plan to keep your crush on Spencer a secret went flying out of the nearest window, along with any shred of dignity you had remaining after drinking one too many shots. It had been a miracle that Spencer hadn't been there at the exact moment the words spouted from your lips. At least you had your drunk self to thank for something, you supposed.

Penelope had been the first one you'd told. Definitely a foolish move on your part, but you were too drunk in the moment to make any logical decisions. Emily and JJ had gone to the bar to get more drinks - "another round of shots", Emily had screamed before dragging JJ away - leaving you and Penelope alone to guard the table in the corner. She was the one who'd brought up the conversation, and naturally, you'd followed along without a care in the world. If there was anything good to come of the situation, then it was the look on Penelope’s face. You wished you’d taken a picture of her expression as the words tumbled from your mouth.

Penelope couldn’t keep a secret to save her life, and once she knew, it was only a matter of time before Emily and JJ knew. She’d screamed so loudly that you’d almost gotten kicked out of the bar for causing a disturbance.

"Place your bets," Emily had shouted over the pounding bass music, slamming a twenty-dollar bill onto the table, "How long until Garcia tells Morgan?"

It barely even took an hour. Emily ended up winning her own bet.

Derek had practically cornered you at your desk the next time he saw you in the bullpen, failing miserably to hide the smirk on his face as he showed you his phone and the babbling, completely unintelligible, texts from Penelope.

With the alcohol out of your system and the devastating hangover a painful memory, you wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole. Maybe you could quit, or request a transfer, or simply disappear to the other side of the country and become a recluse in the wilderness. Wishful thinking, of course.

From that moment on, you noticed that the rest of the team was messing with you. You didn’t have any proof, but you were sure of it. You’d enter the conference room to find that the only seat remaining was next to Spencer. You’d find yourself paired up with Spencer more often during cases. You and Spencer would frequently be the last two members left in the bullpen at the end of the day. 

It wasn't as if you particularly minded. You and Spencer were best friends. You had been from the moment you'd walked into the bullpen on your first day and immediately made a comment about the book he was reading. You were used to being around him more often than not, but it was a lot harder to act as if nothing had changed when you were on edge 90% of the time. You were always wondering if he knew anything about the crush you had on him, or if someone else was about to blurt out the secret that you were trying so desperately hard to keep hidden. You couldn't bring it up because you'd either out yourself or you'd be forced to have a conversation that you were sure would end in rejection.

It was an endless cycle, and you hated it.

You were in the bullpen with Dave, perched on the edge of your desk as he rattled off his famous carbonara recipe. You’d always wanted to be a better cook, and Dave had promised you that he'd teach you, even though he really didn't want you burning his kitchen down to the ground.

“Okay, so, do you add the cheese and the egg together, or separately?”

“You combine the egg first, and then you add the cheese.”

“Oh. Right. So…”

It was at that moment that Derek decided to sidle over to the conversation, perching himself on your desk beside you with an all-too familiar smirk on his face. 

“Since when have you been interested in learning how to cook?” he gave you a not-so-subtle nudge.

You shot Derek a glare, “Derek. Don't.”

"Unless you were planning a date for pretty boy over there.”

He nodded his head in Spencer's direction, and you couldn't help but follow his eyes. It was automatic. The sight of Spencer pouring pretty much the entire jar of sugar into his coffee made you smile, but it was definitely an expression you wiped off your face when you heard Derek's laughter.

“I swear to God, Derek…”

“Guys,” JJ interrupted, entering the bullpen with a case file in hand, “We've got a case.”

“Is it bad?”

JJ simply grimaced. 

“Of course it is,” you said with a sigh, hopping off your desk. Derek was still failing to hide his laughter beside you, and you swatted at him, “Shut up, Derek.”

“I didn't do anything.”

“You didn't have to.”

It didn’t surprise you at all to see that the seat beside Spencer was the only one available. As you slid into it, you caught Emily smirking at you from across the table, though she was clearly trying to hide it. You shook your head at her, though you couldn’t stop a tiny smile from ghosting over your lips as you focused your attention onto the case file in your hands.

ꨄ︎

It always seemed as though every case at the BAU was worse than the last one.

You’d all been called to a small town in Wyoming after a frantic call from the police department. Three victims had been found in the town’s frozen lake with anchors tied to their ankles to keep them below the surface. A fourth victim had gone missing, and there was no doubt that she’d end up like the others if she wasn’t found. It was a horrifying fact that everybody knew, but nobody wanted to admit.

It was later, almost 11 pm, and you were no closer to solving the case than you had been when you’d first arrived. It was as if the unsub was always three steps ahead of you, and it was frustratingly annoying. You’d spent a good portion of the afternoon scouring through decade old case files. The lead detective was convinced that it was related to a similar case that had happened in the 1990s. You hadn’t found any striking similarities between the two and you were beginning to wonder if there would be any at all. He was clutching at straws, desperately trying to close the case as quickly as possible. You couldn’t fault him for that.

Just as the words on the case file were beginning to blur into one large amalgamation, a gentle hand landed on your shoulder, “Hey,” JJ said, “We’re all heading to the hotel.”

“You go ahead,” you waved dismissively, stifling a yawn, “I’m going to finish looking over these files, and…”

“Hotch’s orders,” she cut you off, “You need a break. We all do.”

You looked to the doors of the precinct and saw the rest of the team ready to leave, muttering amongst themselves in a tired conversation. Aaron raised his eyebrows, almost expectantly, at you.

“Alright,” you didn’t bother trying to hide another yawn, “I’m coming.”

JJ smiled softly at you, almost dragging you to your feet because of how exhausted you were. It didn’t really feel as if your brain was in control of your body as you padded after her. You’d been so caught up in the details of the case that you hadn’t realized how tired you truly were. The sudden rush of air that hit you as you exited the building made you even drowsier.

“You look exhausted,” Spencer chuckled as he helped you into the SUV with a gentle hand on the small of your back that almost made you combust right then and there, "I've seen you tired, but this is another level."

You simply made a little grunt in response. You didn't have enough energy to come up with one of your usual witty comebacks. You clumsily collapsed into your seat, and you leaned your head back against the headrest as your eyes fluttered shut.

It wasn't too long of a drive to the hotel, but that didn't stop you from catching a quick power nap during the brief moment of peace. You couldn't get Spencer out of your head. Or, more specifically, that hand on the small of your back. He'd never touched you like that before. Ever. It was sending your brain spiraling, to be honest.

“We’re here,” Spencer’s voice filtered into your ear as he gently shook your shoulder,  “Wake up.”

Your eyes snapped open, and you glanced to your left. After a moment, your eyes came back into focus, and it hit you that your head was leaning on Spencer’s shoulder, “Oh,” you quickly sat up, though you almost choked as the seat belt snapped you back against the seat, “Sorry.”

You were so very glad that most of the team weren’t in the same SUV as the two of you because they’d never let you hear the end of it. The only other person was Aaron, and as you caught his eye in the rearview mirror, you could tell that he was trying not to uncharacteristically laugh at you. You did your best to ignore him, which wasn’t exactly easy when your face began to burn with a familiar wave of heat that you’d grown accustomed to.

That chuckle of Spencer’s that you loved so much and made your heart do flip-flops in your chest echoed in your ears, “It’s fine. You clearly needed it. And I do make an excellent pillow.”

You snorted out a laugh, and you gave him a shove as you climbed out of the car beside him, “Shut up.”

The rest of the team were all waiting beside the front desk with their bags as you and Spencer entered. Even though you made sure to look in any other direction, you definitely saw the subtle smirks Derek and Emily were shooting you out of the corner of your eye. 

Aaron finished his hushed conversation with the receptionist, and with a curt nod, he moved back over to the rest of the team with key cards in his hand, “They don’t have enough rooms for all of us. Looks like we’re doubling up.”

If Spencer noticed the subtle smirks and side glances from the rest of the team, he never mentioned them.

Instead, he nudged your shoulder, “We’re sharing, right?”

“Of course, we’re sharing. I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you took the key card Aaron was holding out to you, and you couldn’t help but notice his lips twitching up into a tiny little-half smirk. You brushed it off, though, “I’m sleeping on the bed nearest the window this time.”

“That’s not fair,” Spencer followed you as you made your way to the elevator, “I like sleeping near the window.”

“No. Not happening. You slept near the window last time.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as the elevator shot up to your designated floor. Your eyes wandered around the small space, and you found yourself looking anywhere other than at Spencer. You weren’t an anxious person, and it wasn’t as if being alone with Spencer was a new thing to you, but your mind was racing. All because of that one small gesture. His hand on the small of your back. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, and you wished you could because it was making your cheeks burn.

“Even the elevators are fancy,” you muttered, casting a quick glance around the elevator’s plush and yet miniscule interior, “For a small town, they sure do have nice hotels.”

Things really were dire when you started making small talk. You were the type of person who could make a mountain out of a molehill with how much you talked. You almost rivaled Spencer with how much you could babble on. Small talk wasn’t your thing at all.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Hm?”

“You hate small talk,” Spencer said, and you bit back a laugh at that. It was as if you and Spencer were on the same wavelength sometimes, “And you’re picking at the hole in your sweater. You only ever do that when you’ve got something on your mind.”

You immediately glanced down at your hands, dropping them from your sweater as if it burned. You hadn’t even realized you’d been picking at the hole until Spencer mentioned it. You hadn’t even realized that there was a hole at all. Your bottom lip jutted out in a quick pout, “I love this sweater.”

Spencer chuckled at that, “So,” he continued, “You’re clearly nervous about something. And it’s not the case, because cases never make you nervous.”

“Really?” you said, a hint of laughter creeping into your tone, “You’re analyzing me?”

The elevator reached your floor, and the doors opened with a loud ding, “I’m not analyzing,” Spencer stepped out, “I’m simply making an astute observation.”

“Okay, well stop astutely observing me,” you followed after him, “Don’t worry. I’m fine. You know I’d tell you, “ it wasn’t necessarily a lie. Maybe you’d tell him. Eventually. 

Spencer glanced back at you briefly as if he didn’t believe a word coming out of your mouth, but he never said anything. Instead, he took the keycard from you and held it against the lock, waiting for the light to turn green before pushing open the door, “Oh.”

“What?” you sidestepped around him, “Oh.”

There was only one bed. Sure, it was a double, but it was still tiny. It was in that moment that you decided perhaps becoming an unsub wouldn’t be a lost cause. 

“I’ll take the couch.”

“I can sleep on the couch.”

You and Spencer finished your sentences at the same time, and you turned to look at each other. As soon as you locked eyes, you both started to laugh at the stupidity of the situation. 

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch either,” you argued, “It’ll kill your back, Spence. You’re way too tall.”

“It’s not fair on you, though. You’ll…” Spencer was about to argue some more, but he stopped when he saw the look on your face. Spencer couldn’t argue his way out of a wet paper bag - when it came to you, at least.

“Look, Spence. It’s fine,” you dropped your bag onto the couch before he could protest, “There. Easy. No harm done.”

Spencer frowned, but he reluctantly put his own bag on the bed, “Fine. We’re swapping tomorrow night, though,” he told you, almost ordering you, “You’re not sleeping on the couch the entire time we’re here.”

“Deal,” your lips curled up into a smile, and you sat down on the couch, “See. I told you I’d be sleeping near the window.”

Spencer laughed at that. 

ꨄ︎

From your space on the couch, you could faintly see the glowing green alarm clock that sat on the bedside table. A strange commodity for a hotel room. It almost looked alien. 

2:32 a.m. 

You couldn’t sleep. You had a bad enough sleep schedule at the best of times, but the injury on your side was making things worse. It still burned, and if you gently put pressure on the area, you could still feel the deep wound through the layers of bandages. 

You were almost three days into the case, and you’d finally had a solid lead. It had taken a lot of digging, but Penelope had discovered the unsub’s hunting ground; an old speakeasy hidden so deep in the town that nobody had been able to trace it. Since you were the closest in victimology, you’d agreed to go undercover to catch the unsub once and for all. All you’d ended up with was a knife embedded deep into your side as the unsub escaped once again.

You’d been in the hospital for hours after that. The knife had gone in so deep that it was close to catching something vital, and the doctors had told you that you were lucky to be alive. You’d spent most of that afternoon in a hospital bed, listening to the monotonous sound of beeping machines. After a concerned lecture from Aaron - he’d told you not to follow the unsub but you hadn’t exactly listened - you were bandaged up and sent on your way.

Spencer had told you to take the bed. He’d almost forced you into it at one point. But you’d seen the way he’d tried to discreetly stretch out his cramp throughout the day, and you were far too stubborn, so you refused his offer and tried to sleep on the couch for the night. It wasn’t working, though. 

You huffed in pain, shifting uncomfortably in the hopes of finding a better position to sleep in. Every movement made your bandages rub against the wounded area. You finally thought you found a comfortable enough position and you tried to settle down, but then you felt a dampness seeping through your bandages, and you cursed under your breath.

“No, no, no,” you muttered, pulling your shirt up and surveying your body. Even in the darkness, you could see the dark spot where the blood had begun to soak through, “Goddamnit.” 

You pushed yourself off the couch and tip-toed across the room. You didn’t want to wake Spencer, especially not in your current state. You kept a hand tightly pressed against your side as you slowly moved. You didn’t want to get blood on the carpet. The staff seemed lovely, and you didn’t want to ruin their day with your mess. Every single step made you wince as a sharp pain shot straight through your body, and your breaths came out as sharp little puffs of air. 

A muffled noise from the bed caught your attention, and you saw Spencer begin to stir. He gently mumbled your name as he sat up and stared at you with bleary eyes, “What are you doing?” he looked you up and down, and then his eyes settled on the blood, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you told him, though you clearly weren’t, “I think the stitches came undone or something. It’s fine,” you tried to wave his worries off, “Go back to sleep.”

Spencer did the opposite. He clambered out of bed and turned on the light, lighting up the room so that you could both see each other clearly. Your heart started to thud a little faster when you saw that the shirt he was wearing to sleep in was a little undone towards the top. You’d never noticed that before. 

“You’re not fine,” his eyes were laser focused on the blood as he took a step closer to you, “You’re bleeding.”

“Good observation skills, Spencer,” you laughed a little, though you grunted in pain as it aggravated the injury, “I told you, it’s fine. I’ll redress it, and…” you paused when you saw the look in his eyes. It was a look he’d never given you before, and it stole your breath for a moment. 

“Let me see.”

“Spencer...”

“It’s obviously hurting you,” his sentence was almost demanding, and yet there was a soft and concerning tone to his voice, too, “Let me see it.”

You sighed. There was no way you could refuse when he spoke to you with that tone of voice. You gingerly lifted your shirt high enough for him to see it, “It looks worse than it is.”

Spencer gently pulled away the loose bandages and inspected the open wound, his eyes never leaving your body, “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “You’re not redressing it yourself, and you’re certainly not stitching yourself back up.”

You barely had a chance to respond before Spencer had darted into the bathroom, and he came out moments later with a roll of bandages the hospital had given you. 

“Here. Sit,” he sat back down on the bed, and he patted the space beside him, “You’ll have to go back to hospital tomorrow. I’ll help you rebandage it for tonight,” his eyes darted between your own eyes and the blood that seemed to be pooling on your side, “Please.”

You hesitated for a moment, “Spencer…” there was no point in arguing with him, you knew that, and your wound hurt the longer it was left open, “Fine.”

You sat down beside Spencer, curling your legs up under you as you turned your back to him. Your hands gripped the hem of your shirt, holding it up high enough so that it wasn’t dangling in the way. This wasn’t the first time that Spencer had patched you up after an injury in the field, but this was the first time where you were definitely feeling a little light-headed. 

“Ow.”

“Sorry,” Spencer’s voice was a gentle whisper against your ear. You hadn’t even realized that he was practically leaning his head on your shoulder, “Sorry.”

Spencer’s hands were so gentle on your skin that it was almost as if he wasn’t even touching you at all. The only indication that he was even helping you was the bandages around your torso since he wrapped them so tightly that they felt like a strangely comforting hug. 

“There,” Spencer said, almost proudly, and he gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Done.”

You glanced down at your body before dropping your shirt. The wound didn’t even seem to hurt any more. You became very aware very quickly that Spencer’s hands hadn’t left your hips, “Thank you.”

You shuffled around until you were facing him, and when your eyes locked, it suddenly felt as if time had come to a standstill. That look was back in his eyes; the one that you’d never seen before that made you feel as though you were melting on the inside. You weren’t entirely sure what was racing faster; your heart or your mind. 

And suddenly, before you could really comprehend your actions, your lips were on his. Your body acted before your brain could catch up. Your hands tugged slightly on the collar of his shirt as if you were trying to pull him closer to you. The kiss was tender, and yet it was so full of obvious desire. Warmth flooded your entire body as your stomach seemed to explode with swarms of butterflies. This was a moment you’d thought about for a long time, and once your brain caught up, you couldn’t quite comprehend that it was happening.

It may have only been a few seconds, but it felt like hours. You pulled away, and it was only after you saw the startled expression on Spencer’s face and the faint blush that crept up his neck that you realized what you’d done, “Spence…” your mouth opened and closed, but now words came out for a good few seconds, “Spencer. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Your panicked babbling was cut off as Spencer pressed a quick kiss to your lips, “Shut up,” he smiled, and he pressed his index fingers where his lips had been moments ago, “Just shut up for a minute.”

If this were any other time, you’d be rather offended that he told you to shut up, and you’d keep talking. In this situation, however, you were happy to keep your mouth shut.

“You didn’t mean to, what? You didn’t mean to kiss me?”

“No. I mean… Yes, but also no, but…”

Spencer raised an eyebrow with a faint smirk, “I thought I told you to shut up.”

You pressed your lips together in a fine line, “Sorry.”

Spencer’s hands left your hips, and he took your hands in his own. He squeezed them gently, and his thumbs began tracing soft little circles onto your palms, “You kissed me.”

You were more than ready for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Spencer seemed to notice because his grip on your hands got a little tighter as if he knew you’d go run, “I’m glad you kissed me.”

There was no stopping the surprised squeak that escaped your lips, “What?!”

Spencer chuckled at that, and the pink blush had spread up to his cheeks, “I’m glad you kissed me,” he repeated, “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.”

“You… You…” your mouth was hanging open, and your eyes were wide. You must’ve looked like an absolute idiot, “You have…?”

“Of course, I did.”

This conversation was going in an entirely different direction to how you’d assumed it was. You’d never seen Spencer look or talk with so much affection before. Spencer said your name with so much love in his tone that it snapped you out of your shocked state, “I like you.”

For a single moment in time, it felt as if the world had stopped spinning. You simply stared, unable to do much of anything else except feel a sharp tug at your heart, “You… You do…?”

“Are you capable of putting a sentence together, or not?” Spencer laughed, and he interlaced his fingers with yours, “Yes, I do. A lot, actually,” he smiled at you, and there was a hint of teasing, “I might be a genius, but even the dumbest person in the room could figure you out right now.”

You cracked a smile, and your shocked expression gave way to a relieved and delighted one, “I really like you, too.”

“Do you? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Shut up,” you giggled, and you never giggled. You knew this crush was childish, but this was on another level entirely.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you giggle.”

“I’m not giggling.”

“Oh, you absolutely are. You’ve always been a terrible liar,” Spencer grinned at you, and then his lips connected with yours. 

The kiss seemed more affectionate than earlier, and a lot more passionate. Your hands wound around his neck, and his hands found a comfortable resting place on your waist. Your lips seemed to perfectly fit together like two puzzle pieces. It could’ve been seconds, or it could’ve been minutes. You weren’t entirely sure how long it had been, but you eventually pulled away from each other, and you were both a little breathless from the intensity. Intense was something you never expected from Spencer. You liked it, though.

You let your forehead rest against Spencer’s, “I hate to ruin the mood and everything, but…” your eyes flitted back and forth to the couch, “Does this mean I don’t have to sleep on the couch anymore?”

“Absolutely not,” Spencer pulled you a little closer, “You’re not sleeping on the couch. Especially not now.”

“Good,” you curled into him as he pulled you closer to his side, letting your head rest against his chest with a gentle sigh, “The bed has better company.”

Spencer maneuvered the two of you until you were lying on the bed, and he tucked you that tiny bit closer into him. You’d imagined him hugging you plenty of times, but this felt better than any imagination could. He kissed the top of your head, and he ran a gentle hand up and down your back, “Sure does.”

ꨄ︎

“Penelope Garcia! I’m going to kill you!”

You stormed through the BAU and entered Penelope’s office, slamming the door open with such a bang that it made the walls shudder.

Penelope grinned as she spun around in her chair to face you, “Ah, my sweet angel,” she spoke with a beaming grin on her face, “Do you require my assistance?”

“You little…” you stepped a little closer, but it was hard to look even slightly threatening with a goofy grin on your face that you were trying to hide, “You gave me and Spencer the only room with a single bed?”

“I did no such thing.”

“I spoke to everyone else, Pen. Everyone else had a bed of their own.”

Penelope continued to smirk at you, not even trying to hide her laughter, “It worked, didn’t it? I haven’t seen you as happy as this in weeks.”

You faltered at that. She wasn’t wrong. Ever since you’d gotten back from Wyoming, you’d been happier than anyone had ever seen you. Of course, everyone knew about you and Spencer, and it didn’t take long for the good-natured teasing to pick straight back up, “Yeah. Okay. It worked, but…”

Penelope held up a manicured finger to cut you off, “Besides, my sweet,” she continued, leaning forward in her chair as if she had a secret to tell you, “I was the one who booked the rooms, yes, but I wasn’t the one who handed out the keys, was I?”

Another pause. The words slowly sunk in, and then your mouth dropped open in a mix of shock, humiliation, and a little bit of gratitude, “You… You don’t mean…”

Penelope grinned. She could practically see the gears turning in your head, and it made her laugh, “Oh, I mean exactly what you think I mean, my love.”

“Hotch set us up?!” you didn’t even wait for Penelope’s response. You turned on your heel and marched out of her office, leaving Penelope laughing to herself behind you, “Aaron Hotchner! I’m going to kill you.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #x reader

[anothermansjeans]

youtube reader doing spencer’s makeup for a video? mgg has super long lashes and i just need to put some mascara on them 😭😭 i’m loving youtube reader they’re dynamic with spencer is so fun

THANK YOU I LOVE THEM SO MUCH THIS IS NO JOKE

cw: spencer wearing makeup, spencer is basically reader's bitch (affectionate)

wc: 623

youtuber!reader masterlist

++

“And you’re sure you wanna do this?”

“Of course. Why wouldn't I be?”

You swore you fell in love with Spencer even more every day. “Because some men have toxic masculinity and wouldn't let their girlfriends put makeup on them?”

“Well, those men don't have IQs as high as mine.”

You laughed and dabbed a blob of foundation on your hand, preparing to use the beauty sponge to blend it onto Spencer’s face. “Well thank God for that. I had to buy a whole new shade for you. Wouldn't want my money to go to waste.”

As you began blending, Spence flinched the tiniest bit at the cold substance. You were sure the camera was picking it up. He was a lot quieter than usual, and you had to comment on it. “Is everything okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“You're not talking… you're a certified yapper, Spence.”

“Hey!” Alas, his first words in five minutes were spoken.

“I’m not wrong,” your words were mumbled, but he heard them. “Sorry, sorry. Would you tell me why you’re not speaking, though?”

“I don't want to mess up your hard work.”

Again, you fell in love just a little bit more. “You won't mess anything up, Spencer.” You placed the sponge down and grabbed onto one of his hands. “Please talk as much as you want. The people are going to be here for you and your wisdom, babe.”

Even under the thin layer of foundation, you could see the hint of a blush appear on his cheeks. “Okay… did you know the word ‘cosmetic’ has a Greek origin, and was derived from the word ‘kosmos’, which means to adorn or arrange. The magazine, Cosmopolitan also has this same root.”

You smiled at the fact and continued with the routine. You got through the contour, blush, highlight, and eyeshadow, finally moving onto the mascara. “Okay, Spence, I’m going to put this wand near your eyelashes and I just need you to blink for me.” He did as he was told, and you couldn't keep your jealousy contained. “I'm so mad at you for your eyelashes.”

“What did they do?”

“They're so long!” You huffed and he chuckled. “It’s not fair. You do absolutely nothing to them and they're so beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” you mumbled out your response, finishing up his other eye before putting the mascara down and digging through the lipstick options. “We should do a liquid lip.”

“Liquid lip?”

“Yep! It won't transfer once it dries.”

“Did you know that the first lipstick appeared in ancient Mesopotamia approximately 4,000 years ago when women decorated their lips with the dust that was made of precious gems?”

“Thank God they stopped using precious gems or I wouldn't be able to afford the tens of lipsticks I have,” you quickly looked up at him, giving him a smile before finding the perfect shade for him. “Here we go! Now, I need you to not talk when I do this.” He gave a nod and allowed you to put it on. “Give it a minute to dry.”

You fanned his lips, and once you deemed it appropriately dry, you smiled and grabbed his face with one of your hands, causing his lips to pucker. “All good! See?” You pushed your lips together, giving him a big smooch in front of the camera. When you released him, you turned your face to the camera, showing your lips before turning back to him. “It didn't transfer!” He could only nod, shocked from the sudden affection, and you laughed as you ran your fingers through his hair. “You really are a pretty boy.”

You shared a chuckle and finished up the video. You were so lucky to have your pretty boy.

++

BONUS: some comments

@ user: i want a pretty boy :(

@ user1: what if i stole your man's eyelashes... then what?

@ user2: can he do a collab with the calm app? ma'am i would pay good money for that but you get it FOR FREE

@ user3: TELLING HIM TO START TALKING?? I LOVE YOU GUYS

@ user4: brb sleeping on the freeway tonight

@ user5: THE KISS?? THE KISS!!!

++

youtuber!reader taglist: @im-a-ghost666 @lyd14k4y @happiestcat @hauntedtv13 @obi-wansgirl @charismatic-writer @navs-bhat

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

#HEHEHEHE #LOVE #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #youtuber!reader

[hd-junglebook]

The Art & The Muse

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Artist!Reader

a:n currently spiraling at the moment so don't be shocked if I release five more fanfictions that I wrote 30 minutes before posting with no proof reading. lol.

Masterlist Link

Summary: A struggling artist finds inspiration in the most unexpected place - a painting class which the famous Luke Hughes has joined. y/n is in awe at his beauty, finding herself fascinated by his masculine beauty.

Prologue

word count - 1568

Luke let out a deep sigh as he sank back into the worn leather of his favorite chair, relishing the rare luxury of a day off. No early morning practices, no media obligations, no road trips - just him, his apartment in New Jersey, and the peace and quiet he craved.

Well, almost quiet. Luke could hear the muffled sounds of his older brother Jack clattering around in the kitchen, no doubt raiding the fridge for a snack. Luke rolled his eyes and tried to tune it out, savoring the silence. He loved his brother, but sometimes Jack's boundless energy and enthusiasm could be a bit much, especially on a lazy Sunday like today.

As if on cue, Luke heard Jack's familiar voice echoing down the hallway. "Hey, Lukey! Get your butt out here!"

Luke groaned, resigning himself to the inevitable interruption. "What is it, Jack?" he called back, not bothering to move from his comfortable spot.

Jack appeared in the doorway, mouth half-full of what looked like leftover pizza. "Dude, you need to find a hobby or something. All you do is sit around and talk to girls all day."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Jack gestured emphatically, spraying crumbs. "Go out and find a girlfriend or something. Do something productive for once!"

"Close the door," Luke said tiredly, waving a hand.

Jack just laughed and turned to leave, still chewing noisily. "Whatever, man. Your life is boring."

Luke waited until he heard the click of the door, then let his head fall back with a groan. Sometimes he wondered how he and Jack could be brothers, let alone teammates. While Luke treasured his rare days off to recharge, Jack always seemed to have boundless energy, constantly looking for the next adventure or party.

A girlfriend, huh? Luke mulled over Jack's words. It wasn't that he was opposed to the idea, exactly. He just hadn't felt that spark with anyone lately. Between his grueling hockey schedule and the demands of his public persona, it was hard enough to find the time and energy for a social life, let alone a serious relationship.

Still, maybe Jack had a point. Luke had been feeling a little...stagnant lately. Perhaps it was time to try something new, step outside his comfort zone a bit. With a decisive nod, Luke reached for his phone.

Luke drummed his fingers against his thigh as he scrolled through the endless list of activities and classes, feeling increasingly discouraged.

His brow furrowed in concentration as he skimmed through the options, mentally crossing each one off as it failed to pique his interest.  Maybe Jack was right - he really was in a rut, stuck in the same old routine day after day.

Just as he was about to give up with a heavy sigh, a flash of inspiration caught his eye. An ad for painting classes at a local art studio.

Luke felt a faint tug of nostalgia as he remembered the hours he used to spend painting with his mom back home in Michigan, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as the memories surfaced. It had been years since he'd picked up a brush, but the idea of reconnecting with that creative outlet was strangely appealing.

Intrigued, Luke clicked on the website and started browsing through the class schedules, his blue eyes scanning the page intently. The next session was in just two days - perfect.

Without overthinking it, he quickly signed himself up, a spark of determination lighting in his chest. With a decisive nod, he shut off his phone, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

With a newfound spring in his step, Luke headed out to the living room where he could hear Jack clattering around. "Hey, Jack?" he called out, drawing his younger brother's attention.

Jack poked his head out from the kitchen, mouth full of what looked like leftover pizza. He quirked an eyebrow curiously, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk's.

Luke wrinkled his nose in mild disgust at the display, but pressed on. "I, uh, took your advice. I signed up for a painting class that starts in a couple days."

Jack's eyes widened in surprise, a spark of amusement flashing across his features. He let out a bark of laughter, pizza crumbs flying. "Painting? Seriously?" he asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

Luke shrugged, feeling a slight twinge of self-consciousness creep up his spine. "Well, I figured it was worth a shot. Gotta try something new, right?"

"Hey, that's great!" Jack grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, his infectious enthusiasm cutting through Luke's lingering doubts. "Who knows, maybe you'll meet some cute girls there or something."

Luke rolled his eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "That's not really why I'm doing it, Jack."

"Sure, sure." Jack winked and grabbed another slice of pizza, seemingly satisfied with the conversation. "Whatever you say, bro."

Luke shook his head fondly and turned to head back to his room, a newfound spring in his step. Maybe this whole "trying new things" thing wouldn't be so bad after all.

…

Luke pulled his beanie down lower over his sandy blond curls as he stepped out onto the street, trying his best to stay as inconspicuous as possible.

He had thrown on his most unassuming outfit - a simple t-shirt, jeans, and a well-worn pair of sneakers - before hesitantly heading out the door, Jack's cheerful "Good luck!" ringing in his ears.

As Luke made his way down the sidewalk, the nerves started to kick in. What was he doing, really? Signing up for an art class on a whim - it was so unlike him.

The old Luke would have scoffed at the very idea, content to spend his rare days off lounging at home or chatting up pretty girls at the local bars. But that Luke felt stale, stuck in a rut. Maybe it was time to try something new.

Still, Luke couldn't help the self-conscious twinge that made him want to turn right back around and high-tail it home. He could already hear Jack's teasing laughter, the endless ribbing he'd have to endure. But Luke steeled his resolve, forcing his feet to keep moving forward. He'd come this far, might as well see it through.

Luke rounded the corner, nearly colliding with an elderly couple out for an afternoon stroll. "Sorry, excuse me," he murmured, deftly sidestepping them.

The last few minutes of his journey passed in a blur, and before he knew it, Luke found himself standing in front of the art studio, its glass door beckoning him inside.

Taking a deep breath, Luke pushed open the door, immediately greeted by the soothing scent of lavender. His eyes swept over the space, taking in the rows of easels and the vibrant paintings adorning the walls. A petite woman with a thick accent approached him, a warm smile on her face.

"Hello, welcome! Can I help you?"

Luke cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. "Uh, yeah, hi. I'm Luke - I signed up for the painting class?"

"Ah, yes, of course!" The woman's eyes lit up with recognition. "It's so wonderful to have you join us. I'm Helena, the instructor. Let me show you where you can set up."

As Helena led him over to an open easel, Luke felt a flicker of genuine interest. He followed Helena through the halls of the art studio, he couldn't help but feel a growing sense of intimidation.

The walls were practically bursting with vibrant, expertly-crafted paintings - from sweeping landscapes to intricate still lifes. He found himself glancing around in awe, suddenly self-conscious about his own artistic abilities.

Helena continued to speak animatedly, her hands gesturing as she explained the layout of the classroom and the materials available. Luke nodded along, trying his best to appear engaged, but his attention was diverted the moment they passed by a particularly striking piece.

The painting was dark, with soft whites and deep blues creating a moody, almost mystical atmosphere. But what truly captivated Luke was the subject - a male figure, rendered with such realism and attention to detail that it almost looked like a photograph.

The sculpted planes of his muscular torso, the veins in his hands, the play of light and shadow across his skin - every element was meticulously crafted, drawing the viewer in with its hypnotic allure.

Luke found himself stopping in his tracks, unable to tear his gaze away. It was as if the man in the painting had somehow come to life, his masculine beauty radiating off the canvas.

Helena let out a light laugh, drawing Luke's attention back to her. "I see you've noticed one of our more...popular pieces," she said, a knowing smile playing at her lips.

Luke felt a faint heat creep up the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious about his obvious fascination. "Uh, yeah, it's...it's really well done," he stammered, clearing his throat.

"Indeed." Helena gestured towards the open doorway of the classroom. "Shall we? The class is about to begin."

Luke nodded, stealing one last glance at the captivating painting before following Helena into the studio. As he took his seat at the easel, he couldn't help but wonder who the artist was behind such a stunning work. And more importantly, would he have the chance to meet them?

…

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[wosoimagines]

Surreal

part 5 of rivals

Jo gets to celebrate winning her first World Cup with not only the national team and New York, but also her niece's birthday.

3,336 words

previous part| |next part

I grinned as the final whistle was blown. There were really only two people who I was looking for. I didn’t even have to really search as I was wrapped in a hug after just a few moments.  

After Becky let me go, I was wrapped in another hug. But this time, I was lifted off of my feet. I grinned as I turned to look at Alyssa. 

“I thought you didn’t like hugs.” 

I had quickly learned that Alyssa wasn’t really one for much physical contact. Not that I had minded. Becky would give me all the hugs I wanted. 

“I think this calls for one.” 

I pulled the two in a proper hug this time. But when I let go of them this time, Becky was pushing me toward some of the others. 

“Go,” Becky said. She gave me another push. “Go. Go crazy with Kelley or Pinoe.” 

My grin widen at that. I was quick to take off before I was crashing into Christen and Tobin first. The two gave me a hug before we were quick to talk about our plans for celebrating now.  

“You know that you can’t have any alcohol, right?” Christen said as she looked down at me. I nodded at that. It had been a topic of discussion that I had with the coaches in the previous days. “No champagne. No beer. None of it.” 

“I know,” I groaned. It was kind of unfair that the rest of my team would get to celebrate while I had to sit out of the drinking. But I knew that I would still have a fun time. “Can I at least spray the champagne?” 

“Of course!” Tobin said as she pulled me closer. Christen was already shaking her head and opening her mouth to argue. “We’ll make sure she doesn’t drink any, Chris. But spraying the champagne won’t hurt anyone.” 

Christen closed her mouth at that. I didn’t miss the slight glare she sent Tobin’s way, but I didn’t have much time to comment on it as this time it was Tobin pushing me away. 

“Go tell Kelley and Pinoe that you’re gonna be the first to do it. They’ll both wanna do it, so tell them you get to since you can’t drink,” Tobin said.  

I immediately nodded my head as I took off to tell the others. I had faltered slightly when Christie overheard what Tobin said that I could do. The two of us even getting into a slight argument which I won with support from both Kelley and Pinoe who had even agreed that they wouldn’t try to sneak me any alcohol if I was allowed to be the first one to spray the champagne in the locker room. 

Once that was decided, I was directed to the sidelines for an interview. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face as the mic was placed in front of me. 

“Congratulations on becoming the youngest player to ever win a World Cup at sixteen years and a hundred and twenty-seven days. What’s going through your head right now?” 

“I don’t even know!” I chuckled. It was true. It was really hard trying to sort my thoughts right now. “I’m just really happy that we won! I know that Jill had received a lot of criticism for choosing to bring me to the World Cup, so to just be able to silence all of those doubters it’s a really good feeling and I’m glad I got to do it with this team.” 

“What was the key to making the most of your time on the pitch?” 

“Yeah, you know, I knew going in that I wouldn’t being seeing an insane amount of time on the field, so I knew that I had to make every chance count. Jill had laid out the game plan to me for the group stage months in advance, so I was prepared to do everything I could to make sure we succeeded there, and we did.” 

“You played in five matches out of the seven that the team played. You started in two of them. What’s that like?” 

“Surreal. There’s no better way to describe it. Even just starting a match at my age is absolutely insane. I knew that Jill wanted to start me against Nigeria, but then to have the chance again when we played Colombia in the Round of 16, of all places, is exhilarating. I just feel bad for my club teammates cause this is all I’m going to yap about for months.” 

“All right, well, thank you for your time and congratulations again on the win today.” 

Instead of being ushered to where the rest of the team was, I ended up being pulled along with Carli and Hope. I was confused by the decision because I knew that I hadn’t won the Bronze Boot because I had only scored four goals, so I was just out of contention for that. There was no way I played enough time to be in talks to receive the Golden Ball. 

“Friends, we congratulate the winner of the Best Young Player award, Jo Knox!” 

I froze for a moment before Hope pushed me forward. I glanced back at her and Carli, who were both urging me forward.  

I snapped out of my shock since I hadn’t even been warned that I was nominated for the award. I was quick to make my way up to the stage. I shook the hands of the FIFA officials that I passed before I was handed the award. I turned to see where the rest of the team was before I held the award up. That only caused the team to cheer even louder for me. At least until I was ushered off the stage. 

I waited to the side of the stage as the other awards were handed out before I got a picture with Carli and Hope as they both had won awards as well. Once that was wrapped up, we were lined up with the rest of the team to receive our medals. I couldn’t contain my excitement as I wiggle to the music that was playing as everyone in front of me had their medals placed around their necks before I was walking the stage again shaking hands with all the officials from FIFA and even the USSF officials that were here before the medal was placed around my neck. 

Becky was quick to pull me into her side as I stood next to her and Kelley. I chattered aimlessly with Kelley until Alex had gotten her medal and then Kelley was quick to attach herself to Alex. It was long after that when we had all received our medals. Christie stepped up to take a hold of the trophy from the FIFA president. 

We all cheered and jumped up and down when Christie and Abby lifted the trophy. With the trophy being passed around it wasn’t long before we were headed into the locker room to start our real celebrations. I had even made sure that I would be the first one into the locker room and grabbed the first pair of goggles that I could. 

I waited until Kelley and Pinoe had made their way in before spraying them with the champagne in my hands to their surprise. It led to the rest of the team cheering and laughing at the two. But it wasn’t long until they got me back as they both sprayed me with champagne. But as promised, I kept away from drinking any of the alcohol that was passed around the room. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

I grinned as I stood on the float with the others. I looked out at everyone who was here to celebrate with us. I knew that most of my teammates had already had a couple of drinks and you could tell in the way that they were so freely dancing on the float. 

I still hadn’t drunk any kind of alcohol as promised to Christie after our win. That didn’t mean I didn’t celebrate just as hard as the rest of my teammates. I was just able to actually remember what had happened the next night. 

I got distracted from watching Kelley chug the beer she had in her hand once I spotted someone familiar looking in the crowd. I had to do a double take to make sure I was seeing things correctly. 

Spoiler alert.  

I wasn’t. 

As I looked at the young girl, I realized that she just looked eerily similar to Sky. I soon focused on the shirt she was wearing, and it only made me smile at just how similar she was to Sky because it was a shirt with me on it. Then I had the chance to read the sign in her hands. 

Before anyone could stop me, I was jumping down from the float despite all of my teammates yelling out in protest. I darted to where the girl was. She couldn’t seem to stop waving as I got closer. 

“Hi,” I greeted, “I’m Jo.” 

“I know! You’re my favorite player! Look, I made this shirt!” 

My grin got wider as I took in just all the pictures that were on the shirt. Most of them were from goal celebrations but there was a couple from random videos that the USSF had put out that I was in. 

“I made you one too!” 

This time it was the girl’s father who passed the shirt over to me. I took it from the man before looking at the front of the shirt before pulling it over my head. 

“If you have a pen, I’ll sign yours if you’ll sign mine.” 

The girl perked up at that as the man handed over a sharpie to me. I quickly signed the girl’s shirt before letting her sign mine. I grinned at the name that was now on my new shirt. Andy Thompson. 

“You’ve just made her day,” the man said. I looked up to meet his eyes as I sent him a soft smile. “Thank you.” 

“You guys have made my day too,” I told them. I really couldn’t keep the grin off my face. “I don’t tend to get a ton of attention from the fans so to have someone give me a custom shirt means a lot.” 

I got a picture with Andy before I moved to take off to get back to the float. 

“I wanna be just like you when I grow up.” 

I froze at that. I had gotten used to hearing it from Sky. But to hear it from someone who wasn’t related to me? That had me absolutely floored. 

My eyes darted up to meet the girl’s. And all I could see was Sky telling me of her dreams of following in my footsteps. I knew that this was what I wanted to really define my career. How many young girls I eventually inspired to play the sport that I loved so much. 

“Who knows, Andy Thompson? Maybe one day I’ll get to watch you playing in a World Cup alongside my niece.” 

With that I gave Andy a wave before running back toward the float. It took me a moment once I caught up to it to get back onto it. I didn’t even mind as I was scolded by Becky and Alyssa for getting off in the first place as I showed off the shirt I had gotten. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Can I see it? Can I see it? Can I see it? Can I see it?” 

Sky’s voice came through the house before I even saw her. I grinned as she came barreling out the back door and into the yard. I opened my arms up as I crouched down. Sky was still chanting to see the medal as she ran into my arms, and I lifted her up. 

I didn’t stop Sky as she reached out to pick the medal up off of my chest.  

“Can I bite it?” 

I chuckled at that but nodded none the less. 

“Not too hard though,” I said softly, causing Sky to stop just before she could bite the medal. She tilted her head. “If you bite it super hard then you’ll leave teeth marks. Gold is a pretty soft metal so if you really bite it then you’ll damage it.” 

Sky nodded before she softly bit the medal. 

“One day, I’m gonna win my own.” 

“I’ll hold you to that.” 

“Will you come watch?” 

“You play in the World Cup?” I asked Sky. She quickly nodded as she dropped the gold medal so that it fell back against my chest. “Who knows? Maybe if you’re good enough to make the team before I retire, we could win one together?” 

Sky started to wiggle in my arms as her face lit up. I didn’t hesitate to put her down before she was pulling me toward the makeshift goal we had in the backyard. 

“Come on! You gotta help me get better.” 

I grinned as I tucked the medal into my shirt so that it wouldn’t get in my way as I helped Sky practice her shots. There weren’t a lot of skills that Sky could really get the hang of just yet since she didn’t have the coordination, but I helped her with the few skills she could do. 

Neither of us had bothered to pay attention as the rest of our family started to decorate the backyard for the party we were having. That was until Sky’s friends started arriving. Once they did, I imagine I began to feel how Marley usually felt once Sky spotted me since I was left by myself with no explanation.  

I didn’t mind though as I moved to join where most of my siblings were. Most of them were talking about their plans for the rest of summer. I knew that my summer would be filled with joining the national team for the Victory Tour. A couple of my teammates had also been talking about making sure I got the chance to watch them in the NWSL this summer. 

“So, when are you going to be training with Mia Hamm?” 

I furrowed my brow as I was snapped from my thoughts about what my own summer would look like. My eyes found Stevie who had been the one to ask me the question. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“What am I talking about?” Stevie asked as everyone turned to look at us. “Everyone’s calling you the next Mia Hamm.” 

“I don’t know why they are,” Hendrix added on. I sunk in my chair at that. I had heard similar stuff plenty of times from him, Elvis, and Mick since I joined the national team. “You only started two games at the World Cup.” 

“I’m sixteen,” I defended. Not only was I younger than Mia had been when she was at her first World Cup, but Mia had been playing with the team for four years by that time. “I still played in five games. I’m three years younger than Mia Hamm was during her first World Cup. And I scored two more goals than she did in her first World Cup. Besides, I’m not Mia Hamm. I shouldn’t be compared to her because our journeys are different and I'm playing in a different time of the game anyways.” 

“Because you know you’ll never be as good as her.” 

I rolled my eyes Hendrix. 

“Because I know I’ll never develop into the same player that Mia Hamm was. That doesn’t mean I won’t ever be as good as Mia was. It just means that the team doesn’t need me to be Mia Hamm,” I said. I didn’t understand why it was so hard for my brothers to grasp that I didn’t need to be compared to Mia Hamm to be one of the best players. “If I ever do get to train with Mia Hamm, it’ll be a great experience, but I’ve got a team full of world class players that help me out in the meantime.” 

The boys stayed quiet for a moment as I glanced down at my empty cup. I knew that if I wanted to get away from them, I should just use the excuse. But I gave it an extra moment to see if any of them would try to apologize or at least something similar since I had never had any of my siblings tell me sorry in my life. 

None of them did. I took it as my cue to get up. 

I refilled my drink, but I also made sure to distance myself from my brothers. Hanging around my sisters wasn’t bad. At least they didn’t throw insults at me like my brothers. They just weren’t that interested in soccer. 

But I spent most of the party pretty much on the side even as a few people offered me their congratulations on my win at the World Cup. I didn’t really mind, but it would have been nice if at least my siblings had made an effort to spend time with me. I knew that most of my older siblings weren’t entirely sure what to do with me since there was such an age gap and most of the others were just closer to the siblings their ages. Which is what made it so unfortunate that Hendrix, Elvis, and Mick were the closest to me in age. 

When Sky had told me at the end of the party that she was going to have a sleepover with me, it made up for the lack of attention from my siblings. 

“Did you like your cake?” 

I was taken back by Sky’s question as we were laying in my bed. 

“Go to sleep, Sky.” 

“You liked the cake though? I asked Mom to make sure it was red velvet cause I know that’s your favorite.” 

I furrowed my brow at that. There hadn’t been a red velvet cake. It was something I only ever got for my birthday. 

“Your cake was good. Well, as good as a vanilla cake can be.” 

Sky stayed quiet after that for a moment before she had suddenly rolled on top of me. I let out a grunt as Sky looked down at me. 

“Why didn’t you eat your cake? Mom said that they would get you a cake to celebrate too.” 

“Sky, my birthday was in February. It was months ago. Why would we celebrate.” 

Sky furrowed her brow as I could see her getting concerned. 

“You won a World Cup. Why wouldn’t we celebrate?” 

I sighed at Sky’s question. She obviously still hadn’t picked up on just how our family had worked. 

“It’s okay, Sky. It’s important that your birthday was separated from celebrating the World Cup.” 

“No. No, it isn’t. Mom said that we weren’t going to do anything for you,” Sky said as she shook her head. “I asked. I asked her if we could celebrate you too. Cause the whole family was here. It’s important. It’s important that we all celebrate you winning. I want to.” 

“Sky...” 

“No! You deserve cake for winning. Cause you’re my hero. And you did something no one else in our family has done.” 

I sighed as I sat up so that I could face Sky in a more comfortable position. 

“It’s okay,” I assured her. “I promise. I still have the Victory Tour to celebrate. And I got to be part of a ticker tape parade. I promise my win isn’t going uncelebrated.” 

“You still deserve cake.” 

“Then how about we make one tomorrow?” 

“Can we?” 

“If you want to.” 

“I’d like that. Can we smash some into the twins faces?” 

I chuckled at that. I knew that Jo hadn’t liked how Elvis and Mick had talked about me and how they always seemed to be putting me down. 

“Sure, but after we eat a piece first. Or else they won’t let us have any.” 

“Deal!” 

#uswnt imagine #woso imagine #leah williamson imagine #uswnt x reader #woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #uswnt imagines #woso imagines #leah williamson imagines #uswnt #woso #leah williamson

[spade-riddles]

Anonymous asked:

My friends ❤️ I know the mood around here is down right now. That’s valid! I completely hear you. I know all too well how hard the heartbreak can hit having to watch the terrible stunting. Take a break if you need it. Take care of you always. But never lose your hope!!! Remember the end game!!! We’ve had so much movement forward since the release of Tortured Poets!

Maybe I’m too far down the 🐇🕳️ to be saved. But for reasons we can’t comprehend, the stunting and shenanigans still matter to her. I don’t want to be misinterpreted.. it’s SUCKY and we ARE hurt. I feel it too. But I have seen too much of the light coming through from the other side now. Between Robin and the 🎃 messages coming to fruition and the change in her Betty speech and the rainbow 1989 outfits and the lesbian flag colored Lover suit and all the ✌🏼 and Karlie telling us she’s in Paris and the Lover house falling like a facade.. we’ve been given a feast of clues in a world where we only get crumbs most of the time. She’s probably still going to stunt sometimes, and it probably will still sting. But 🎃 once said “The finish line is closer than it may appear. Transformation is imminent. Hold on to your blind faith a moment longer, now. And remember that reputation is illusion, expectation the magician.” Maybe my blind optimism is to blame, but this is real and we all know it. We can feel it! ❤️

Now - hear me out: 🫚 said “Five, six, Lay it on thick.” So for the months of May and June.. the stunting might be turned way up. But you know what else has been turned WAY up? The flagging to us!! From both Taylor and Karlie. This may even be why we’re still getting ✌🏼 from Taylor Nation, Karlie and Taylor. 2 story lines, 2 narratives being publicly displayed, 2 completely different sides of the story.. but only 1 that catches the public’s eye. An illusionist, if you will. I believe she created this narrative on purpose. When it’s a lesbian flag colored body suit and boots, it’s “just colors” but when it’s Red and Yellow in 1989, it’s “for Tr*vis!!” Interesting double standard set by TAYLOR herself. She IS the mastermind!! The time will come for us to finally win. I believe that.

I love you all and this community we share. Please take the time away if you need it. Come back when you’re ready. We will always be here! ❤️

I leave you with this: “One day, people will say you’re the lucky ones. All I can ask of you is this: To have an open mind, rolling new ideas over in your thoughts and keeping only what feels right.” 🎃

[niiwa-angel]

Yesterday was Mothers Day in Canada and given that I work at a restaurant, we got to see a lot of families "celebrating" the occasion. And Gyns, when I tell you men are fucking worthless!!

One family came in, mom, dad, grandma, and two young kids. Probably three and five, if I had to guess. As soon as they get in, Dad plops himself down at the table and immerses himself in the menu while Mom takes the kids to the bathroom. Ignoring the fact that Dad could have easily taken his little boy to the men's room to help use the toilet, or at least tried to help in any way. Nope. He just sat and looked at the menu. Then when their food came, it was mom and grandma feeding the kids, making sure they sat still, wiped their faces so they weren't sticky, and actually got the food into their mouths. Dad ate his burger in peace without lifting a finger.

Next family, grandparents, parents, three kids. Two preteens/early teenagers and one kid who was like, 8. Dad and grandpa busy themselves in conversation and don't even acknowledge their wives and children. At one point, grandma asked Grandpa is he wanted to share the fish and chips with her and he completely ignored her. I repeated the question "are we sharing the fish and chips" and he just laughed to Dad about how women always eat your food. I offered to have the cook prepare a 1 pc fish and chips portion for grandma, using a smaller cut of fish, because our portions are big.

Third family, mom and dad with two toddlers. The kids are crazy, they can't sit still at all. I offer that we have some play equipment outside and they can play out there while their food cooks and I'll wave them down when it's ready. So mom goes out to the playground with the kids while Dad sits and enjoys his beer. I bring the food to the table when it's ready and go to wave down Mom and the babies. By the time she manages to get them inside and seated, Dad's halfway done his meal, he couldn't be arsed to wait for them.

Fourth family, mom and dad with two kids, elementary school aged. Kids order their meal and run off to the playground to play with the other kids, so mom and dad have a chance to relax. Mom and I get talking about our beer menu while Dad scrolls on his phone. She orders her drink and he just adds that he'll have what she'd having. I bring the drinks and they're enjoying those when the food comes. Guess who gets up to get the kids. Is it dad? Nope!! Mom again! And once again, dad starts eating before she gets back.

We had tons of families in and it was rare to see the fathers actually take an active role in parenting their children or actually helping their wives. There were a few! And they were great! Like the dad that took his toddler daughters to the play equipment so his wife could enjoy her mimosa and cheesecake in peace. But they were few and far between. So my ladies out there thinking about partnering up with a man and having children, do so with the knowledge that even on a day meant to celebrate you, your husband likely won't step up to the plate. You'll still be the one in charge of tending to everything while your husband sits in his ass and reaps the benefits of your work.

#radical feminism #radfems please touch #child free #anti natalism #mothers day #men are trash #KAM #kill all men #radfem safe #radfems welcome #radfems do interact #radfems please interact #radfem friendly #TERF safe #OP is a TERF

[gimmethatagustd]

like a river | kth + myg + knj

As the only omega professor in the Department of Philosophy at Seoul National University, Yoongi is accustomed to dealing with pretentious alphas who think the world revolves around knots.

○ Pairing: Taehyung x Yoongi x Namjoon

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: A/B/O, college professors au, coworkers to lovers (?), smut

○ 14 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Academic)

○ Word Count: 3,761

○ Warnings: Unprotected anal sex, blow job, heat sex, knotting, light dom/sub vibes

○ Notes: Please don't read this unless you genuinely like A/B/O fics; otherwise it could be too much for you. I'm warning you in advance. I'm not responsible for your Tumblr experience :)

○ Post Date: May 12, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost

○ What was Jai listening to? River - Bishop Briggs

Yoongi’s heat comes early.

He’s flipping the page of a thick, leatherbound textbook in the University’s library basement, where the archives are when his damp fingers stick to the page. Sweat beads along his hairline, breaking up the gel that once held his hair out of his face and letting a few dark strands fall across his forehead and into his eyes.

Slowly, Yoongi closes the book and parts the space on the shelf where he needs to slide it back with the other alphabetized philosophers’ texts. It’s been nearly three hours since Yoongi visited the archives with his fellow professors to collaborate on changes to the next academic year’s curriculum. They all need to come to a consensus on which books to include in the senior year capstone project syllabus. It’s hard enough to find an agreement in a department of fifteen alphas, two betas, and one omega without going into heat in the middle of their research.

It’s fine. Yoongi is in his mid-thirties; he has dealt with unexpected heats before.

None were as sudden as this, though, and none came at such an inconvenient time.

Yoongi hears a few of his colleagues bid their goodbyes from the opposite side of the room as they exit to take the stairs to the ground floor. Three hours is too long; looking at his phone, Yoongi realizes the library closed nearly an hour ago. Perhaps he’ll get lucky, and none of his colleagues will be here by the time he finishes packing his things.

Yoongi is unsteady when he walks down the aisle; his body feels heavy, and his muscles are weak. His heat shouldn’t have hit him so suddenly. Yoongi meticulously tracks his heats to accurately predict the exact time of day they’ll hit. He doesn’t believe in suppressants, thinks they’re utter bullshit, just one more way for alphas to control omegas’ lives. He lives naturally and keeps a log religiously. There’s no reason for this to be happening.

By the time Yoongi reaches the corner of the room where he had left his belongings on one of the study desks, his dress shirt is soaked with sweat. Dark red splotches are at his armpits, and a short, thin line at his sternum along the shirt buttons.

Thankfully, packing takes little time. Yoongi shoves his laptop and a few books into his worn leather satchel and slips it over his shoulder. His knuckles turn white from how tightly he squeezes the strap, and he drags his fingers along the wall to steady himself as he walks the perimeter of the room. The book titles and hangul headings on each aisle blur from the burn of sweat falling into his eyes. Using the back of one hand, Yoongi wipes the sweat from his forehead and exhales slowly through puckered lips.

The exit is five exhales away. Yoongi makes it to three exhales before he chokes on the next one and is inundated by the earthy scent of cedarwood and cardamom that leaves a bitter aftertaste in the back of his throat.

"Oh! I didn't realize anyone else was still here. I don't think I've stayed in the library this long since—Um, are you okay, sunbaenim?"

The alpha sitting at a table to the right of the exit is one Yoongi has done his best to avoid the entirety of the academic year, not by any fault of the man himself. Taehyung is one of the few tolerable alpha professors in the department. Young and fresh out of graduate school, he's promising as a professor despite his reviews being skewed in his favor because most of the student body has a crush on him. Yoongi may as well be a blushing college student because Taehyung's big brown eyes and sharp jawline make him want to stay as far away from Taehyung as possible.

"Y-Yes, just, uh," Yoongi fumbles over his swollen tongue, which feels dry in his mouth. "I'm just turning in for the night."

He prays that Taehyung lets him be. The exit is right there. All Yoongi needs to do is take a few more steps past the table, and he'll have his sweaty hand wrapped around the doorknob. The longer he stands here with Taehyung scrutinizing him, the less time he'll have to get home before he turns into a pathetic, sex-crazed monster.

Usually sweet, Yoongi's citrus scent turns bitter with his distress when he remembers he didn't drive to work today. He'll have to use public transportation to get home. No matter how strongly Yoongi rejects the sexist narrative that omegas are more vulnerable than alphas and betas, even he can't deny how unfavorable it would be to get on the train at night at the onset of his heat with strangers.

"Sunbaenim…" Taehyung takes a step toward Yoongi, who then takes a step backward. "You… your heat."

Taehyung audibly inhales, and shame creeps up Yoongi's chest, turning his neck and cheeks bright red, burning him like wildfire because the look on Taehyung's face makes him slick.

"It's fine," Yoongi whispers, and it most certainly is not fine.

When his thighs hit the edge of a table, he lets go of his satchel's strap to reach behind him. In his nervousness, he backs himself across the aisle from Taehyung's table, though Taehyung follows him with timid steps and rounded eyes.

"I don't mean to be rude, sunbaenim, but I don't think it's safe for you to go alone in this state."

Taehyung says more, but Yoongi doesn't pay attention. Taehyung's voice warbles and morphs into the muffled sound of someone trying to speak underwater, and all Yoongi can do is hone in on how pretty Taehyung's fingers are when he glides them through his caramel hair and how veiny his forearms get when he folds the sleeves of his white buttoned dress shirt to talk with his hands. Unlike Yoongi, who is short and soft around the edges and along his creases, Taehyung is tall and lean. His shoulders are broad and his hands large, and the swell of his biceps against the tight sleeves of his buttoned shirt is too much for Yoongi to look at.

Yoongi hates alphas. He hates how narcissistic they are and how they dominate every space they're in. Even now, he hates how Taehyung's scent is comforting and tantalizing, coaxing Yoongi's omega out of him and triggering his heat to barrel into him with the weight of a freight train.

Most of all, Yoongi hates the person his biology turns him into when he's around a pretty, big alpha like Taehyung.

"Just help me, okay?" Yoongi snaps from the exhausting headache building from the blood pounding in his skull.

"Of course, sunbaenim." Taehyung's eyebrows shoot up, but he's gentle as he grabs the strap of Yoongi's satchel and takes it off to hold it himself. "I'll drive you home. I just need to stop by my office first. Do you think you can—"

"No," Yoongi whines and hates himself for it, but he can't stop himself.

"No, you can't wait? Or—"

“Help me, Taehyung-ah.”

Taehyung's face maintains its innocent look of concern, but his ears turn bright red once he breathes in the ripe scent of Yoongi's slick, and the meaning of Yoongi's demand washes over him.

"You want alpha to help you?" Taehyung asks quietly, and Yoongi feels the deep rumble of Taehyung's voice reverberate violently through his body, weakening his knees. 

Yoongi's heat isn't forcing him to whimper a tiny "yes"; his attraction to Taehyung goes far beyond animalistic instinct. Apparently, Taehyung's does, as well.

"Gonna take my knot, omega?" Taehyung runs his long fingers through Yoongi's sweaty hair, gathering it in a makeshift ponytail and tugging Yoongi's head backward so he's forced to look into Taehyung's eyes. "Is that what'll make you feel better? Is an alpha's knot going to fix you?"

Taehyung's condescending tone, paired with his sudden harsh grip, makes Yoongi gasp. Though Yoongi's heat makes him lightheaded and lethargic, he has enough energy and wits about him to be irritated by Taehyung's comments.

"I don't need a knot," Yoongi demands through gritted teeth when Taehyung tightens his grip on his silky hair. He and Taehyung both hear how unconvincing he sounds, especially when Taehyung reaches around to squeeze his ass, and Yoongi instinctually presses back against his hands.

"It's okay, sunbaenim," Taehyung cradles Yoongi's rigid jaw in his palm. With gentle strokes, he traces Yoongi's lips with his thumb, pressing on the center of his bottom lip and pulling down. "All omegas need a knot. You were made for it."

Yoongi knows Taehyung is wrong. He wasn't made for anything or anyone but himself. That's the problem with alphas; they think the world revolves around their knots. Yoongi has taken very few knots in his life and found that relationships with betas and other omegas are far more fulfilling.

He doesn't need a knot. He doesn't.

But then one of Taehyung's hands squeezes Yoongi's face so he can angle Yoongi's head to the side as he licks up a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. His other hand unzips his slacks, and Yoongi realizes he's got Taehyung's shirt twisted in his fists to pull their bodies together.

Maybe Yoongi does. He feels Taehyung's cock, warm and hard, against the inside of his thigh, and maybe he needs a knot.

"Are you going to be a good little omega for me, sunbaenim?" Taehyung asks, teeth clenching at Yoongi's bobbing throat.

More slick leaks from between Yoongi's cheeks, and Taehyung makes a show out of shoving his hand in the back of Yoongi's slacks to glide his fingers through it. Taehyung laughs when Yoongi trembles as he presses against his rim, just enough to tease but not enough to push through.

"You need to use your words, little omega. Be good for alpha, and he'll be good to you."

Despite his harsh demeanor, Taehyung's sparkling eyes look soft, and his grip on Yoongi's body is firm but gentle.

"I'll be good," Yoongi says with a sharp intake of air when Taehyung abruptly yanks Yoongi's pants down his thighs.

It doesn't matter that they're still on campus, still at work. Yoongi lets Taehyung help him out of his clothes, tossing them onto the floor with his satchel. He's very aware of the fact that Taehyung keeps his clothes on and only unzips his pants to pull his cock out. It makes Yoongi feel dirty and vulnerable, being the only one naked. If someone were to walk in on them, Taehyung could easily cover himself and leave, whereas Yoongi would be left scrambling. Taehyung could slip away, and Yoongi would lose his job.

Yoongi hates alphas and their need to hoard power, but he turns into a quivering mess when Taehyung grabs him by the back of the head and forces him to bend over the table with his cheek against the cold surface.

"You'll be good and stay quiet, won't you?" Taehyung asks as he dips his thumbs into Yoongi's hole and pulls, groaning at how wet and pliant the muscles are.

Yoongi says yes, but he doesn't mean it. There's no way for him to regulate himself when Taehyung slowly eases his cock inside him.

The moment the thick head pushes through his rim, Yoongi's mind goes blank. He's so worked up that his heat is all-consuming by this point. Yoongi knows he's babbling as Taehyung thrusts into him because Taehyung shoves his middle and ring fingers into Yoongi's mouth. He presses down on Yoongi's tongue, making drool gather at the corners of his mouth but effectively keeping him quiet since all Yoongi can do is moan around his fingers.

"That's it, omega, suck on them and keep quiet," Taehyung murmurs as Yoongi wraps his lips around his fingers.

Taehyung gets in a few deep, long thrusts when the door leading to the stairs opens.

Yoongi, whose eyes had been squeezed shut with pleasure, immediately opens them and tries to get up, but Taehyung keeps him pressed against the table. Panic tickles the edges of his mind, but he doesn't really feel it like he should, can't truly grasp it when Taehyung's cock is fat and warm and so close to filling Yoongi up with his knot.

For a moment, Taehyung's hips slow to a stop. Not driven by hormones like Yoongi, Taehyung likely feels the panic of getting caught hit him full-force. That is until he realizes who has joined them.

Yoongi would recognize the other alpha's scent anywhere for how rich and creamy it smells, like freshly made chocolate, still warm. A fellow professor who has also crossed Yoongi's mind more than once, Namjoon is slightly more tolerable than Taehyung, mainly because his alpha arrogance is at least rooted partially in how much of a confirmed genius he is. Not that Yoongi cares about any of that with a dick up his ass. He's still trying not to panic. Although his heat loosens him up a bit and helps him let go of some of his inhibitions about sex, it's still difficult to completely accept that this is natural. Yoongi doesn't want to succumb to the need for an alpha's knot, but he knows he should give in to the instinct — especially if he has someone as handsome and giving as Taehyung to help him through it, if only for the night.

And then there's Namjoon, poor Namjoon, with his mouth hanging open and his tan cheeks turning rosy.

"Holy shit," Namjoon says weakly, his dark eyes flitting between Taehyung and Yoongi. "I came back because I thought I left my wallet. I tried calling you, Tae, um…"

Namjoon trails off, and Yoongi is sure they all think there's no point in explaining anything. Namjoon is smart. He can pick up on Yoongi's scent and understand why he's sweaty and slicked up, and Taehyung's fingers are shoved down his throat.

"Our sunbaenim needed some help." Taehyung's explanation is as half-assed as Namjoon's, and it's still too much.

Yoongi feels silly, pressed to the table with nothing to say and no way to say it anyway, even if he wants to. If it wasn't for Namjoon's embarrassment, Yoongi would be mortified to be caught in this position.

"You're not going to say anything to anyone, are you, hyung?" Taehyung asks with a cocked eyebrow. It doesn't look threatening, but it isn't the usually friendly demeanor Taehyung has.

Namjoon quickly shakes his head. "No, no, of course not..."

To Namjoon, who is barely keeping himself together, Taehyung's behavior probably does seem threatening. His eyes keep falling to where Taehyung and Yoongi are connected, no matter how many times he tries to keep his eyes on their faces — on Taehyung's face because Yoongi's face looks too pornographic, twisted in pleasure despite how nervous he is.

When Taehyung notices, he gives a little thrust, gently grinding against Yoongi's ass. Yoongi can't tell if he's purposefully grinding into his prostate, but he hits it every time, making Yoongi moan. He tries to grab the edge of the table to have something to hold onto, but his arms aren't long enough to reach. Taehyung jostles him forward, then eases him back, just to snap his hips into him again.

Yoongi should do something. He feels like he should, or at least say something. Anything at all. But he slowly realizes that he doesn’t want to. He hasn’t been with an alpha in so long that he’s wondering if he simply forgot how good it feels to be cared for and used. Taehyung fucks Yoongi because he feels good, so pliant and wet and a whimpering mess lying there to be taken, but he’s also doing it to make Yoongi feel better, to take the edge off his heat so Yoongi can get home safely without attracting unwanted attention or hurting his omega’s feelings by ignoring his instinct. The situation is mutually beneficial in that way; if Yoongi intellectualizes the whole thing, he can feel better about being fucked in the library by his younger coworker in front of another younger coworker.

The entire situation is insane, and all Yoongi can do is drool over it.

When Taehyung finally removes his fingers from Yoongi’s mouth, it isn’t to relieve him but to ask him a question.

“Sunbaenim, I feel bad for my hyung,” Taehyung says gently as he rubs his palms up and down Yoongi’s back. "He’s so hard.”

Still standing at the door, Namjoon inhales sharply, loud enough for Yoongi to notice it. When Yoongi looks, Taehyung’s observation is confirmed, though Yoongi isn’t surprised. What kind of an alpha would Namjoon be if he wasn’t turned on by what he sees? The erotic scent of heat sex alone would be enough to make any alpha feel the need to pop a knot.

“Oh,” Yoongi sighs, dragging his eyes from the apparent bulge in Namjoon’s pants to his narrowed eyes.

“Mhm. Don’t you think you should do something about that? Since it’s your fault?”

Yoongi tries to crane his head around to look at Taehyung, shocked by his question — accusation.

There's still a part of Yoongi that wants to tell Taehyung and Namjoon to fuck off because why is any of this his fault? It's not his fault his heat showed up early and unannounced. It's not his fault that Namjoon is horny.

Unfortunately, there's the natural side of him, the side that isn't burdened by social norms, gender roles, philosophy, and all the other bullshit in the manmade world. The natural, instinctual side of Yoongi wants to jump at the opportunity to pleasure and be pleasured.

So when Taehyung has Yoongi turn around to lie on the table on his back, he does so without hesitation. Once Namjoon approaches the side of the table next to Yoongi's face and follows Taehyung's lead by taking his cock out, Yoongi eagerly opens his mouth with Taehyung's encouragement.

"Such a good omega," Taehyung praises as he caresses Yoongi's face to brush his hair back as Namjoon feeds him his cock.

Namjoon lets his head fall back as Yoongi takes more into his mouth. He can't move the way he wants to, can only rock back and forth when Taehyung begins fucking him again, each snap of his hips jostling Yoongi and making Namjoon's cock slip out of his mouth.

It's overwhelming when Namjoon grabs Yoongi's head and begins to fuck his mouth, alternating how he thrusts into his throat with the frequency of Taehyung fucking his ass. They establish a rhythm, playing Yoongi like some sacred instrument only they know, spending the time to learn to do it properly. 

Yoongi can hardly breathe. Taehyung pounds into him so hard that Yoongi feels like he fucks the air right out of his chest. It gets worse as Taehyung's thrusts become more aggressive, and he begins chasing his climax. When Namjoon's cock hits the back of Yoongi's throat, he drools and gags violently enough that it hurts, but his omega likes it.

"Shh, just, fuck, just a little more," Namjoon moans. He fists Yoongi's hair and squeezes, keeping a tight grip on him when his thrusts become more shallow. "Shit, I'm not gonna last."

"Knot his mouth."

Yoongi's eyes fly open, but he can't look at Taehyung; he can only hear his quiet laughter. Alphas and their fucking knots.

Yoongi hates them. He hates how good they feel, like now, when he can tell that Taehyung is close because his knot is starting to catch at Yoongi's rim. It burns as it grows, expanding so much that Yoongi wonders if his body can genuinely take it if maybe he's not deep enough in his heat for this — and then Namjoon reaches over to pump Yoongi's cock as he and Taehyung keep fucking him.

Their rhythm gets thrown off and messy, first when Taehyung cums with a final thrust that forces his knot inside and then when he makes Yoongi cum immediately after.

Rather than follow suit in the same manner, Namjoon pulls out to spill onto Yoongi's face, keeping one hand squeezed around his knot and the other quickly fisting over his shaft until there's nothing left, all of his cum painted across Yoongi's lips and the side of his cheek.

“Fuck,” Namjoon sighs and lets his body slump into one of the chairs surrounding the table, “Holy fuck.”

Namjoon shakes his head with a laugh of disbelief, and Yoongi hates how cute he finds his dopey, dimpled, fucked out smile to be.

Yoongi slowly turns his head until he’s staring up at the ceiling, and his neck is no longer twisted to the side. It hurts to swallow, but he’s terribly surprised by how satiated he feels, so content that he almost feels sleepy — despite Namjoon’s cum on his face, Taehyung’s in his ass, and his own all over his stomach and chest.

Disgusting. Yoongi has never been so sticky and wet in his entire life, and he likes it.

Taehyung looks just as messy, if not worse, than Namjoon, though the two of them combined can’t beat out Yoongi’s current state. Taehyung’s bangs are plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his shirt is tucked inward to avoid getting cum and slick all over the bottom half. Yoongi doesn’t even want to know what kind of story his reflection would tell him if he looked at his appearance. All he can hope is that he didn’t get bodily fluids on his satchel or the books they need for the semester.

At least Namjoon and Taehyung have the decency to clean Yoongi up. It isn’t the best job, considering all they have to work with are the paper towels from the shotty little bathroom in the back corner of the archives, but it’s better than sacrificing someone’s clothes to clean up the mess.

“Thank you,” Yoongi is quiet with his gratitude. The embarrassment and panic he missed before are now hitting him since the fogginess in his brain from his heat has subsided, at least for a little bit. “I, um, don’t really know what to say…”

“You don’t have to thank us, Yoongi sunbaenim.” Namjoon smiles sweetly, and Taehyung nods in agreement.

“Yeah, we just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

It’s a rather extreme way of doing so, but Yoongi did ask for it.

“I still don’t know where my wallet is, though…” Namjoon points out sadly, and Yoongi can’t help but bark a hoarse laugh.

“I can’t fucking stand alphas.”

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here. 

#queue you know bts? #taegijoon #taehyung x namjoon #taehyung x yoongi #namjoon x yoongi #bts fanfic #bts smut #taehyung smut #namjoon smut #yoongi smut #taehyung fanfic #yoongi fanfic #namjoon fanfic #lar #jai writes #100 drabble challenge #gimmethatagustd

[skyward-floored]

Malon and the glasses

A little addition to the Incredibles au glasses fic (found here!) I posted the other day, it takes place during that one, so I suggest reading that first (though you don’t have to to understand this).

This is also in honor of Mother’s Day, cause Malon is the best :)

...

Nobody saw much of Twilight the day he got his glasses, the teenager keeping pointedly to himself.

He barely ate any dinner that night, and quickly asked to be excused, shutting himself up in his room without waiting for dessert. His brothers watched him go, but soon went back to eating, the fight over who got the last slice of bread much more exciting than Twilight’s mood.

Malon exchanged looks with Time after Twilight left though, and once dinner was over and done with, she headed up to the room Twilight and Wild shared, joined by a slice of the cake Wild had made.

Here goes, she thought, bracing herself as she walked down the hallway. Twilight didn’t often get moody, but when he did, he really did.

“Hey honey, can I come in?” Malon asked, knocking softly on Twilight’s door.

A noise of confirmation came from inside, and Malon pushed the door open, greeted by the sight of Twilight sitting grumpily on his bed as a wolf. She set the slice of cake on his bedside table, then sat on the bed beside him, his ears twitching softly at her arrival.

“All right, come here,” she said gently, and Twilight scooted himself over, sadly flopping his head in Malon’s lap. Malon adjusted herself so they’d both be more comfortable, and Twilight let out a breathy sigh, not looking at her.

Malon looked at him a moment, then let out a sigh of her own.

“Oh hon, I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want glasses,” she said gently, and Twilight let out a morose sound.

“Does anyone ever want glasses?” he woofed grumpily, and Malon hummed.

“Well... at least you just need them for long distances, you’ll pretty much only have to wear them while you’re driving,” Malon said encouragingly, but Twilight didn’t look cheered up.

“Yeah. I can pull up to school and have everyone see how dorky I look.”

“Hey, I’m sure you don’t look dorky,” Malon said, and scratched a soft hand over his fur. Twilight leaned into the touch. “I’d bet they make you look nice. Sophisticated.”

“Silly,” Twilight added glumly, leaning against her arm. “Like some kind of smart alec. Glasses are just asking for trouble.”

“Now why do you say that?” she asked, and Twilight gave a small shrug.

Malon waited for him to speak further, switching from scratching behind his ears to running her hand along his head, more like how she used to do when he was smaller. Twilight relaxed, and a moment or two went by before he spoke again.

“...I’m already weird,” he mumbled finally. “Glasses are just going to add to that.”

“Twilight, you’re not weird,” Malon said firmly. “Unusual maybe, but that’s just how things are with superpowers. We’re all a bit unusual.”

Twilight gave her a flat look. “Mom, I have five brothers with the same name as me. Not to mention Dad. And Warriors. And Sky. Powers aside, that’s not normal.”

“Okay, okay, you got me there. You know half of the names were accidents though,” she said with a pointed scratch, and Twilight softly huffed.

“I know. I just... don’t want glasses.”

Malon sighed, patting him by the thick fur at his neck. “At least give them a bit of a try, hon. It’s this or no learner’s permit, so you’re gonna have to decide which you dislike more; not being able to drive, or wearing some frames while you do.”

Twilight sighed, and his mother scratched him behind the ears in silence.

“Can I see them?” she asked after a minute.

Twilight hesitated, then slipped back into his hylian form, leaning over and grabbing the glasses case she’d seen Time bring in earlier. He handed it to her and Malon opened it, picking up the glasses and inspecting them.

“Well they don’t seem so bad to me,” she said kindly, peering through them. “The frames you chose are nice.”

“It was those or the ones with these giant rims,” Twilight said with a small smile, and Malon chuckled. “...I guess they could be worse.”

“Can you model them for me?” Malon asked, and Twilight hesitated, looking at them. Then he slowly took the frames from her, and put them on.

Malon studied the way they sat on her son’s nose, how they made his eyes look, and how they looked with the shape of his face. Twilight’s ears flattened in embarrassment the longer Malon silently studied him, and he looked at the floor again, until she gently cupped his cheek and tilted his head back up.

“Look at that. I was right. They do make you look nice,” she said with a smile.

“...You sure?” he asked quietly, and she nodded.

“I’m sure. And I’m not just saying that because I’m your mother,” she said as she gave him a squeeze. “You look fine, hon. I promise. And if I’m being completely honest... they make you look more grown-up. Mature.”

A hesitant smile formed on Twilight’s face, and Malon reached over and grabbed the plate she’d brought up.

“Wild mixed up another cake, I brought you a slice,” she offered, and Twilight’s ears pricked. He took the plate from her, and leaned on her shoulder as he began to poke at it, his smile growing just a little as he ate.

“Thanks Mom,” he said quietly as he nibbled at it, and Malon nodded, rubbing his shoulder.

“Sure thing, honey,”

Twilight set his head on her shoulder, and they sat there together as he quietly ate the cake, Malon smiling at the sight of the glasses still on his nose.

#incredibles au #Incredibles au fic #lu Malon #lu twilight #linkeduniverse #writing from the floor #Malon is the best #can cheer up anybody #even grumpy wolves #who don’t want glasses #if you’ve read the other glasses one then this is the night he gets the glasses #before four talks to him

[mermaidsirennikita]

Louis de Pointe du Lac, as originally written, could be regarded as one of lit's most famous "also rans", someone who was originally positioned as Thee Tragic Figure of the series, only to be almost immediately superseded both in the readers' and the author's minds with Lestat. Like, you know Louis because of the original book, but Lestat is the one everyone talks about, Lestat drives the rest of the series, Lestat has all the best lines.

And the movie, as much as I personally don't like it, only sort of dug this further into the pop cultural understanding of the story. Brad Pitt is at his most "I am relying on pretty" boring and sulky; when there is a performance, it's largely annoying. And Tom Cruise... I mean, it's literally nothing next to what Sam Reid does in my mind, but it was at least very off-brand for him at the time, and he was doing SOMETHING, and he (and Kirsten Dunst) have the most iconic Moments, the camp, the arguably most memorable part of the movie (the very end with the Sympathy for the Devil cover playing us off).

So it's honestly SUCH a testament to the innovation of the show's writing and the brilliance of Jacob Anderson's performance that Louis has been reinvented, not only as a compelling protagonist, but as a character that is EASILY as complex and multilayered as more traditionally antiheroic/villainous types like Lestat and Armand and Claudia. He's more than the beautiful, tragic object of Lestat and Armand's affections, he's more than the guy telling us the story.

Louis is self-loathing and self-aggrandizing; he's victimized by Lestat, and he manipulates Lestat, very aware of his own emotional hold over him (might we note how much agency Louis had over Claudia's turning, and how Lestat in no way would've done that if not for Louis... and that act was arguably one of the most selfish in the series, if emotionally understandable). He's controlled by Armand, yet we get hints that he's actually quite dangerous and perhaps in some sort of self-delusion about just how dangerous he is (and Assad certainly plays Armand like he's nervous as fuck about Louis knowing the truth--and I don't think that's JUST about the possibility of Louis leaving him once he finds out).

Louis tells himself that he loved Claudia more than anything and that she was his "spark in the dark", when we see that in reality their relationship deteriorated over time and continued to do so, even after the person who was seemingly a wedge in their relationship was vanquished. We see hints, perhaps, that Claudia was no more the ideal daughter in his mind than Lestat was the ideal lover.

And that last scene in the premiere? When we're not sure who the "you" is? Sad and kind of horrifying, too. Because like--what will Louis do to Claudia to further his own love and obsessions? Who does Louis prioritize more--Claudia, Lestat, Armand? Maybe none of the above. Maybe himself and what or who he thinks will stave off his own loneliness, his need for love and validation and, yes, power.

None of this is a criticism of the character. The show already did something SO good and SO smart by turning Louis from a white slave owner to a Black man with money and social standing, still so held back by the laws and environment of his day. Vampirism gave him agency, yet the show, in season one, showed the potential for Louis to still be the perpetual tragic victim (in episode five especially). And maybe they'll still slip up and do that.

But increasingly, with the reveal in the s1 finale and the s2 premiere, I think we're getting the implication that the thing Louis could be protecting himself from mentally (with some help from Armand--I don't think Louis's memory issues are all Vampire Magic, though) is something horrible that he did. A choice he made. Because Louis does have agency, and the narrative allows him to be someone with conflicted desires and a complicated sense of self. Someone who doesn't love PRETTILY. Someone who is manipulated and manipulates.

Like, I've joked about him being this kind of like vampiric Helen of Troy because of the allure he holds for powerful figures like Lestat and Armand, but I also think it's so powerful to explore the way that Louis uses that appeal and ALSO makes fucked up decisions on his own because he is... into being adored, frankly. Even if the people who adore him also hurt him. He gets caught up in his own romanticized retellings of his life story, whether heartfelt or tragic, because in those retellings he can pretend that he had no choice, he had no ability to say otherwise.

But like--Louis could have stopped that woman from being decapitated, potentially. Louis didn't have to walk away from human affairs. He chose to do so, just like he chose to beg Lestat to turn Claudia. Just like he chose to deny her Lestat's true death.

And I think there's like, an attempt to reckon with this in the unreliable narration of the books, but I also think that this is so dependent, in Anne Rice's version, on spinning to Lestat... That Louis's culpability and untruths are overshadowed by his Everything. Here, the story lets us soak in Louis's mind, and Jacob Anderson's performance really seals that. I find it so smart.

#interview with the vampire #one of the only shows that gets me excited enough to meta rant these days #anyway jacob anderson i love your work #(to be clear i love everyone's work this is truly one of the strongest casts on tv)

[inkofthebrain]

Imperial

[Paul x F!Reader] 3013 words

Paul Atreides, Duke of Arakkis, takes the hand of the Emperor’s eldest daughter for the throne, yet neither are pleased. They know they must learn to be civil, but what will it cost them…

Tags: post-Dune 2, strays from book canon, no use of y/n, dune typical everything, Corinno!Reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers kind of? (More strangers to lovers tbh) ARRANGED MARRIAGE TROPE, not proofread LOL

Warnings: Dune typical themes, motifs, and actions.

A/n: Yeahhhh let’s goooo. We actually see Paul! Requests are open for one shots, imagines, and more. Check out the new request section of my master-list for my character lists!

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Dune masterlist

Five———

[Five days before the ceremony]

As you open your eyes, you feel a sense of deja vu wash over you. Yesterday's events come rushing back, and you can't help but feel a wave of exhaustion and dread.

You sit up slowly, shaking off the lingering remnants of sleep. It takes you a moment to fully orient yourself, but you soon remember where you are and what has happened.

"Is it time already?" you ask, your voice hoarse and dry.

"Yes it is, Lady Jessica instructed I let you sleep in for a few hours. It's early afternoon my lady" Delia says, opening your curtains.

You groan softly, feeling the weight of fatigue settle in your bones. The thought of yet more preparations and appointments fills you with a mixture of anticipation and resignation.

"Very well," you say, sighing. "Let us proceed."

The exhaustion was getting to you.

You follow Delia out of your chambers, your footsteps slow and heavy. You know that the countdown to the wedding has begun, and with each passing day, the pressure and expectations grow heavier.

You wonder who this day's appointments will be with, and what tasks you will have to face. You take a deep breath, trying to steel yourself for what lies ahead.

As you and Delia traverse the hallways you look up in surprise as Paul appears around the corner, his expression serious and intense.

"My lady, may I speak with you? In private?"

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

Soon you nod, gesturing to a nearby empty chamber.

"Of course, my lord," you say, your voice soft and demure. "We can speak privately here."

You follow Paul into the small, secluded chamber, feeling a thrill of anticipation and nervousness. You have spoken to him before in meetings and at dinner, but never in private. You were acquaintances. What does he want to discuss with you so urgently?

Once the door closes he turns to you, "Are you ok?"

You nod tentatively. "Yes," you say softly, but the tone of your voice betrays the lie. You cannot deny the exhaustion and tension that has built up since your arrival on caladan.

"I am just... worn out from the day's events" you say, knowing full well that such an answer falls well short of the truth.

"You have been asleep all day" he states, catching you in your lie. "My mother told me about the early morning. I apologize for the pain that was caused"

You glance up at him, stunned by his sudden show of concern. You have never seen him express empathy, much less sympathy, towards anyone. There is a genuine warmth to his voice, and you feel a prickle of confusion at his behavior.

"It is not your fault," you say gently, forcing out a smile.

"It is the way of things. And it was necessary to determine if I would be strong enough for what lies ahead."

"Still", he says, his tone softening. "It can't have been pleasant. my apology stands." he pauses for a moment, his eyes fixed on you. Then he continues, "My mothers entire process is barbaric. No one should have to endure such things. I did not expect her to extend her horrors to you"

You nod. "Our lives are not in our hands"

He nods, seeming to understand the truth behind your words. "Perhaps that is the hardest part", he says. "The knowledge that we have no real control over our own lives. That everything we do is predestined, and the path we follow has already been laid out for us."

You feel a sense of companionship wash over you as he speaks. Here is someone who truly understands, someone who gets it. You know who has had this feeling before, and the realization makes your heart ache.

Paul pauses for a moment, as if searching for the right words to say next. Then he continues, his tone softer and more candid than you have ever heard it before.

"I sense the loneliness within you", he says, "the sense of being trapped and isolated, no matter how many people surround you."

Paul's spice tinted eyes meet yours, and for a few breaths, there is an undeniable tension between you. Then he says, barely above a whisper, "I know the darkness that haunts you." Your breath catches in your throat, as if he had reached into your soul and grasped hold of your deepest fears. You want to pull away, to maintain distance and keep your emotions in check.

You have never shared these thoughts, these feelings, with anyone. But in him, you suddenly feel the urge to bare all, to open yourself to him completely.

"i've been dreaming of Arrakis" You Mutter

He smiles at you, a faint spark of genuine amusement in his eyes. "Nightmares, I assume," he says.

There is a hint of sadness in his voice, as if he knows all too well what that particular dream means. You notice the way his gaze lingers on your face, and you wonder how much he truly knows of your inner struggles and insecurities.

You nod silently, unable to deny or dismiss the truth of the statement. Even though you had grown used to having nightmares about arrakis, this one had been particularly vivid and unsettling. You can still feel the terror of the desert and the endless sand dunes, the crushing sense of doom and helplessness.

The silence hangs heavy between you, thick and taut with unspoken sentiment.

Paul searches your eyes briefly, and then he speaks, his voice just above a whisper. "Your dreams...they tell me that you are afraid, more afraid than you have let yourself admit. Even here, in this safe space, you cannot let go of the anxiety that haunts you."

You nod, feeling yourself grow flushed as his words strike a nerve. You have worked hard to conceal your fears, to portray a facade of strength and resilience. But here, in front of him, in this moment of intimate connection and understanding, you feel yourself succumbing to his perceptive nature.

"You see too much", you say quietly, unable to deny the truth of his words.

"Perhaps I do", he says, his voice soft and sincere. “The people view us as messiahs." He takes a breath.

"It's all fabrication, and we are bound to it by duty" he sighs

You nod, understanding the weight of the expectations that surround you. "Yes, we are puppets on strings, pulled in different directions by the desires of those who hold power. they seek to use us for their own ends, and we have no choice but to play our part."

Paul pauses, his eyes hardening slightly. "But we cannot allow them to define who we truly are. Inside, beyond this facade of duty and obligation, we are still our own people. we still have our own thoughts and feelings, our own desires and dreams."

"we each have a choice", he continues, "to surrender to

those expectations and allow them to define who we are. or to cling on to our own truth, despite the consequences."

He meets your gaze, and his words carry an intensity and urgency that resonates deep within your soul.

"I promise you," he says, looking into your eyes with a serious conviction, "That whatever choice you make, whatever price you must pay, I will be by your side to shoulder the burden as long as you extend that courtesy to me as well." You nod, taking a deep breath.

“I too have a truth I wish to cling to" he says before wiping a tear from your cheek which you had not noticed fell. “I unfortunately must depart, I have a security meeting for the ceremony" he says.

"Of course", you say, your voice straining with emotion.

"Do what you must. But promise me one thing..."

"What is it?", he asks, his voice still tinged with sympathy and concern.

You take a deep breath, feeling the lingering effect of his touch on your skin. You feel the urge to speak what is in your heart, to lay bare your feelings for him, your desire for him. But you manage to reign in the impulse, and try to maintain a sense of decorum.

"That we will see each other again, before we are made husband and wife", you say, your voice faltering slightly.

He nods softly, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He understands the deep significance of this brief exchange, and the desire behind your request.

"I promise", he says, his gaze intense and sincere. "We will see each other again, and when we do, much will be made clear. Until then, take care of yourself, and remain true to your heart. It’s far from over”

"I must go now," he says, "the ceremony is only five days away, and there is much to be done before then. but rest assured" he adds, his gaze lingering on you. "we will meet again."

The following two days were filled with dress fittings, floral arrangement and decor selection, cake tasting, and many meetings.

———

[Three days before the ceremony]

The entire palace was transformed into a flurry of activity, the servants bustling around and preparing everything for the ceremony. As the bride-to-be, the majority of the preparations fell to you and your family. But unlike many girls approaching their wedding day, you had no expectations or excitement. Instead, your thoughts were consumed by the impending reunion with Paul and the knowledge of the difficult days ahead.

The mornings were typically the only time you had to yourself. You were seated adjacent to your bedroom window, looking out at the sea as you reminisced on your upbringing.

You remember being escorted through the halls of the imperial palace, your eyes drifting past the grand spectacles of art and decor to the various courtiers and officials who moved like pawns across the board.

The emperor's hand gripped yours tightly, his eyes scanning the crowded halls for threats and vulnerabilities. His presence was a shadow cast over your childhood, looming large with power and influence.

You remember the countless hours spent in tedious lessons and tutelage, the endless nights spent studying ancient history and political theory. You remember feeling a deep sense of loneliness and isolation, a sense of being confined within the walls of the imperial palace.

Irulan was easily manipulated. That is what he desired. You were a threat to him.

It was his choice to not have you trained in the ways of the Bene Gesserit like your sister. He feared the power you would hold.

You feel a sudden surge of resentment at this thought. He viewed you as a threat to his own power, not a worthy successor.

The emperor never truly understood the depths of your spirit, or your innate drive for greatness. He feared you and sought to destroy you before you could discover your potential.

The resentment grows as you recall all the ways you could have been trained and guided, only to be denied those opportunities. you could have been an even greater asset to the imperial house, but he denied you that chance.

"You cannot stop fate, father" you whisper aloud to yourself.

As you wandered through the halls, being transported from chamber to chamber to meet with various specialists, you felt increasingly overwhelmed and anxious. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your arm, and you started to turn but immediately recognized Paul's firm grasp.

You wheeled around to face him, feeling a rush of relief and excitement as you saw his familiar face. Paul had appeared like a ghost in a forest, seemingly coming out of nowhere. but you were not surprised at his sudden presence, knowing the importance of this reunion.

"Well, the bride finally decides to make her appearance" he says with a faint smile, his gaze raking over your dress and appearance, taking in the details. But there is more than mockery and scorn in his expression, there is something deep and genuine.

You feel the corners of your mouth curve in a smile despite yourself, and you notice the gleam in his eyes.

"I trust they have been spoiling you?" he asks, gesturing to the entourage of servants surrounding you.

You nod, and try not to roll your eyes. "yes, they have been treating me like royalty", you say with a slight hint of mockery. "One might have forgotten that I am the subject of an arranged marriage and will not have much choice in the actual wedding itself."

Paul smirks slightly at your snarky reply, seeming to enjoy your spirited response.

"You know how it goes. it is all for the sake of appearances," he says, his tone tinged with irony. "The bride must be pampered and celebrated, even if she has little desire for the event itself."

"And what of the groom?" You ask

Paul pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering with amusement. "The groom may be equally disinterested, but he is expected to go along with the rituals and play his part. The pressure is not so great, but nonetheless a burden of duty must be shouldered."

Paul pauses, his eyes glancing beyond your shoulder, towards the swarm of servants. He gestures to them,

"But they seem quite dedicated to doing their part, so how about you let them continue to spoil you for another moment. And in the meantime, I will show you something"

he takes your arm, his touch warm and reassuring. You are surprised at the gentleness, the sudden shift in his demeanor. you allow him to lead you away from the flurry of activity, following him down a labyrinth of hallways and through several doors.

After a few minutes of walking, you arrive in a spacious office. Paul releases your arm and gestures for you to take a seat. He sits down opposite you, his expression grave and serious.

"This is something that cannot wait until the actual ceremony,” he says. "it is important that we discuss it now."

Paul's manner shifts as his mother enters the room. His expression becomes more formally composed, and he rises to his feet, offering her a slight nod.

Jessica responds in kind, the two offering silent greetings as she moves into the center of the room. You notice a slight softening in her demeanor as her son joins her, as if the two are united in this situation, however difficult it may be.

"You will not be fond of what must be done," Jessica begins

You flinch slightly at her direct statement, prepared for the news that is about to be delivered. But you also trust her wisdom and foresight, hoping that her words will provide some insight or guidance.

You study her face, noting the slight creases around her eyes and mouth, the weariness and stress apparent in her demeanor. She stands in firm control of her emotions, her tone composed and firm.

"Your father is to be charged with the attempted ratification of the Atreides house during his reign as emperor by the Great Houses of the Imperium. As Paul has been foreseen to ascend to take his place they have decided his ploy was an attempt to hoard the throne." She pauses. "He is to be executed shortly after the coronation of you as Empress and Paul as emperor"

The air is suddenly sucked out of your lungs as you feel this bombshell land in your chest.

Your father, charged with treason against the house and facing execution. For all his faults, the emperor was still your father, he shaped your life and protected you from the horrors of court life.

Your vision blurs, and your ears ring with a buzzing sound. You want to reach out to Paul or Jessica, but your limbs feel stiff and numb.

"I know this is difficult", Paul says, his voice soft but steady. "Your father was your father after all. But he had his own agenda, his own aspirations. He never desired for you to succeed him, much less become empress."

"But this changes nothing", paul says, his tone growing firm, conviction in his words despite the tragedy of the situation. "Your father has made his bed, and he must now lie in it. The ceremony will proceed as planned, and we will not allow his actions to stand in the way of our house and our destiny."

You nod, although it is with reluctance and sorrow. but you understand, deep down, that this is the only path forward. Your father may have once loved you in his own way, but he was also a man of ambition and status.

Paul and Jessica exchange a look, their expressions both sympathetic and resolute. Paul releases your hands, moving back to the center of the room.

"We will not let your father's actions deter us from our course. The ceremony will proceed, and you will be crowned as empress of the known universe."

Your breath catches in your throat as you absorb the significance of his words. You are to be the empress of the known universe, but at what cost? Your father, once so feared and powerful, now facing execution at the hands of what once was his Imperium.

You close your eyes, trying to push back against the flood of emotions threatening to sweep you away. You have no say in this matter.

"I understand", you say firmly, though your voice still trembles with grief and shock.

You feel two sets of eyes upon you, observing your response. You sense Paul's firm, almost resolute gaze, his presence a steadying force. Meanwhile, Jessica's eyes are filled with a subtle blend of sympathy and determination.

Her voice breaks the silence, her tone full of both sorrow and resolution. "You will be the greatest empress in the existence of this empire," she declares, the conviction in her voice unwavering. "Your father's legacy will fade as the empire embraces a new future with you. your father will never control you again."

———

Next chapter

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#paul atredies x you #paul atredies fanfic #dune part two #paul atredies x reader #paul x reader #dune part 2 #paul atreides #dune 2024 #dune x you #dune 2021 #dune x reader #dune fanfic #dune movie #dune #timothee chalamalabingbong #timothee x reader #timothee chamalet #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet Dune

[lovebittenbyevans]

Behind Closed Doors

Summary: Being married for five years to Gojo Satoru is not all that it seems to be.

Pairing: Actor!Gojo Satoru x Wife!Female Reader

Warnings: angst, cursed words, fame au

Author note: Hello, Welcome to Life In The Spotlight AU Universe series. Enjoy reading this out of order chronological series. Comment, like and reblog.

– I don’t do taglist at all. If you want to keep up just click the notification

Being around the parties, rich celebrities was always a good time to be at. You got used to the fame of being Gojo's girlfriend at first then wife over the years. Everywhere you go with Gojo paparazzi always taking pictures of you two or sometimes a video.

His fans love him like crazy and you were not surprised what an amazing fanbase Gojo has. Even though some of his fans send you death threats every now and then. On social media you had to put your account private because everyday some fans leave nasty comments as well.

Although you were able to live your life the way you wanted while being with Gojo, you started to notice a change in him for the last few months. He was always working which was understandable but he would stop calling you and text you while he is at work on set being busy.

You would send him a lot of voicemail and text messages since he doesn’t answer your calls anymore. He would sometimes come home late drunk and out of his mind. Some days he doesn't bother to say hello to you or kiss you. The connection between you two was slipping away slowly.

You were over it.

You were tired.

You felt your feelings to be all over the place. You can tell he was not the same Gojo you fell in love with and wanted to marry. You can tell the spark between you two is always there but it feels like you two are drifting apart.

Sitting on the bed, you were still deciding whether to go to the Screen Actors Guild Awards this evening. You were so busy this morning being around your friends that you almost forgot about it.

Of course you wanted to show your support for your husband even though you already feel off. You sat there on the bed holding your dress when you heard his voice along with his footsteps. “Babe, are you almost ready?”

He stopped at the door when you glanced up at him. “Babe we are going to be–” You cut him off immediately. “I decided I don’t want to actually go, Gojo.”

Gojo eyes were on you. “What?” He never once heard you turn down any award show you wanted to go to with him.

Your eyes filled with tears as he entered the room. “What do you mean?”

You glanced at him and wiped your tears away swiftly. “This marriage and us, I can't do this anymore.” You continue to speak. “We don’t communicate anymore. It’s obvious you don’t answer my calls and texts. You come home drunk all the time. You are out everyday at some dinner and always at one of your friend’s parties.”

You had to let it out. You've been holding this in for so long that you didn’t know how to tell him. You love Gojo so much but sometimes you wish he was a different person and your marriage could be so much better.

He crosses his arms as his back touches against the wall. “Y/N, I may not be the fairy tale prince you wanted but I treated you good.”

You scoff and meet his gaze. “Fairy tale prince? I never told you I wanted that princess Cinderella bullshit!” Your voice started to get loud.

As he runs his fingers through his white hair, he sighs. “Y/N, don’t lie. You wanted that version with me during this whole marriage and I gave you that.” He knew you were going to not tell him the truth about what you really wanted in this marriage.

“What I wanted!? Wow.” Your voice got even louder. “Gojo, when we met and started seeing each other you were the sweetest guy. I wanted to be with. You were a romantic as well and it’s obvious all you wanted was my attention even after we got married.”

You can’t believe this bullshit. The Gojo you got was when you two first started dating and seeing each other. He hasn’t changed until after you have been married to him for five years.

He shakes his head while listening to you. “You started ignoring me once you went to Chicago for a few months to film that movie you were excited to be in.” Gojo just stood there looking at you. He can see the hurt on your face. He noticed he hasn’t been a good husband to you but he didn’t want to admit it to himself.

“That’s not–I always call you and text you when I am there.” He walked over to the bed and sat down next to you.

You shake your head and move away from him on the bed. “G, you just love lying huh?” For once you wanted him to be honest with you.

He said, pretending to act dumb. “What do you mean, Y/N?”

You scoff. “Don’t be stupid now. You come home drunk all the time. You barely touch me and kiss me anymore. It’s like you are allergic to me.”

“What? I don’t–” You interrupted him before he responded to you. “I AM YOUR WIFE! I am not some fucking random bitch you come home to every so often!”

Gojo's stunning eyes widened in surprise. He never saw you lose your temper like that with him ever. When you and him have a disagreement he always sees you stay calm and humble.

Your heart was racing. You were unable to think at all. You felt your head begin to pound, noticing a slight headache coming along as well.

“Honey I–” He paused when you got up off the bed taking a step straight to the closet. “I–I didn’t know you felt this way.” He mumbles.

You open the closet door and place the dress on a hanger. “How could you? You are too busy being Mr.Hollywood star getting drunk all the time and accompanying a few women.”

The loneliness was starting to creep up on you again. You have felt like this for the last two years and a half.

“Y/N, I would never cheat on you.” He said, honestly.

You placed the dress back in the closet and closed the door. “Well, it seems like your co-star Julia had other ideas for the blogs to know.”

Gojo was confused because he had no idea what you were talking about. He took his phone out of his pocket when he realized the time he had to be at the event.

“Huh? She wouldn’t–” He stopped talking when his phone was buzzing like crazy. He stared at the screen seeing notifications from his friends asking where he was. He clicked on his messages and ignored the ones above.

Gojo doesn’t always check his emails, text messages sometimes because he is a busy man. He kept scrolling and scrolling through his phone when he finally realized a bunch of headlines about him and his co-star Julia for the last few months.

Gojo Satoru spotted out with his co-star Julia at a restaurant

Gojo Satoru seen getting cozy with his co-star Julia on set of their new movie The Angel Above

Gojo Satoru seen drunk with some friends and his co-star Julia

“Where is his wife?” One comment on the article says.

How did he let this get too far?

How has he not seen all of these different headlines in a matter of months?

He turned his phone off as he met your gaze. “Honey, I am sorry.” You let out a fake chuckle while grabbing a pillow and a blanket off the bed. “Too late for sorry. I’ll be sleeping somewhere else when you get back.”

You walked out of the bedroom as Gojo quickly followed behind you. “Wait! Are you leaving me?” You opened the door to the guest room and turned around staring at him. “Have a good night G.”

The door slammed shut before Gojo could get a word out. He stared at the door feeling a tear roll down his cheeks. “Fuck!” Worried that his marriage would fail, he struck the wall with his hand as he went downstairs and out of the house.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x female reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x y/n #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x female reader #gojo x y/n

[anarchiii]

The Shadowsinger’s lover —ACOTAR AU

Part one | warnings: fluff, swearing if you squint | Azriel x Rhys!sister

Summary; Rhys’ sister comes home, finally, and the the new members of the inner circle are surprised to learn that she (we are gonna call her ‘Selene’) and Azriel are Mates and have been for over two hundred years.

Note: this is an AU it’s not in the books.

Masterlist

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Selene’s POV

To say she was missing home was an understatement, she’d been gone for sixty-five years, she wanted to go home and see her mate and see her brother again, she’d heard what had happened in the fifty-years she’d been gone. How and what her brother had sacrificed for his court and his family. She’d been gone far longer than she’d expected but she’d had a job to do, she was second in command to the general, she worked side by side with the Lord of Bloodshed and was one of his closest allies and friends, not to mention that she was mated to his brother in arms. So she was basically his sister.

While Cassian controlled all of the Night Court’s armies, he had constructed his own group of formidable warriors, it included Cassian—of course—Azriel, Her and two others, all of them in the bane—Rhys named it—had Siphons of various colours. Her’s being purple, Cassian’s being red and her mate’s being blue. The other’s being a deep pink and white.

Selene had been working in a camp near UDM, she and her team had been studying all the creatures Amarantha had created and converting them to be on their side, it was a tedious, tricky and dangerous job but it helped immensely in the war and any battles they found themselves fighting in. Selene had been fighting in the recent war. Just in a different area.

Once she reached Velaris she made it to the House of Wind, it was a shame she didn’t have her wings anymore, she could’ve easily flown up there in minutes, she banished that thought before it had time to fully develop, Selene had been walking for days to get here. A recent battle in the swamps had left her magic drained. Meaning she couldn’t winnow, she let out a sigh before making her way up the steps to the house, this was going to be a while.

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Sweating and breathing heavily, Selene collapsed onto the ground, she seriously needed to work out more.

A throat cleared nearby and she looked up from where her face had been resting on the concrete floor. It seems she had interrupted a training session if the shirtless men and sweaty women were any indication. “Heyyy guys” she said breathlessly, she only recognised two of the people there, her general and her mate, speaking of, Azriel walked over to her and grabbed her hand. Pulling her up and into his chest. “I didn’t know you were coming” he said into her head, “I swear-” panting, “I told you guys I was coming” holy shit. She needed to run more. This was embarrassing how much she was gasping for air, it didn’t matter if she had climbed 15,000 steps or whatever amount it was. He mate did this every week and didn’t break a sweat.

“Let’s get you inside, okay?” “Okay”

She sheepishly smiled at Cassian and the woman he was training with, Selene could already tell that she did not want to mess with the sharp faced, fiery eyed fae, “I missed you” Azriel said to her, sadness and loneliness showing in his whiskey eyes. “I’m sorry, Azzie, I didn’t mean to be this long. I’m here now. okay?” Her mate nodded and softly pressed his lips to hers, they both shared a smile, —one that was only used when they were alone—she brushed the silky black hair from his face. Brushing her finger down his cheek slowly. “Tell me”

So he did.

Azriel sat his wife down and told her everything that had happened while she’d been gone, a lot, apparently, had happened.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you” Selene said sorrowfully, “it’s fine, don’t beat yourself up over it, your here now anyway” he said back with a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

-

For the next few hours, Selene and Azriel laid in each others arms, bare, from the catching up they had partaken in, as she lay there. Her face in the crook of his neck. She made a silent vow to never spend so long away again.

The End.

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Note: I’ve had this in my head for a while and i finally got off my ass and decided to do it, there will be more parts to this in time, thanks for reading, I really appreciate it.

#fantasy #sjm universe #books #sarah j maas #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel shadowsinger #sarah j mass #sjmaas #pro sjm #sjm books #sjm multiverse #rhys sister #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel acotar

[nunyabznsbabes]

God. I am once again thinking of Buffy's journey in season six. How she ends season five by finally embracing death as her gift, finally accepting it, finding genuine peace in the afterlife after everything she's been through. She's given so much of herself, and now she finally gets to rest. The story ends exactly where it promised that it would: with the Slayer, the Chosen One, dead via saving the world. It's narratively correct. It's kind.

But then Buffy's friends say no, sorry, we still want you here with us. They force her to claw her way out of her own grave. And Dawn tells her, I need you to live, I need you, and then immediately demonstrates it by needing to be saved. And that whole season Buffy is so angry, and so tired, and so sick of being needed. They took Heaven from her. They loved her so much, wanted her so selfishly, that they couldn't let her rest. Her mom is still dead, and she's still fighting for her life every singly second. The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. She's still the Chosen One, but now she doesn't even get to die.

And then, in what's probably my favorite (albeit imperfect) arc of the show, she keeps living. She works a miserable customer service job. She watches her friends implode. She feels like she's failing her sister. She has nasty sex with Spike. And even through all of that, the time helps. She keeps living, and it's hard and it's scary and it totally sucks. But she reconnects with her loved ones; she keeps saving people; she starts to let herself settle. To let herself hope.

And after a really shitty few months, she has pull herself back up out of the earth again. But this time the sun is shining, and her sister is at her side, and she wants to watch her grow up. This time, Buffy chooses to claw at the dirt. This time, she chooses to live.

It's just such a simple, beautiful truth: sometimes we want to die and our loved ones won't let us. But if you give it time - if you endure those endless days where you're terrified and miserable and exhausted, and the even longer ones when you can't feel anything at all, things will get brighter. You'll find things worth living in this world for. Survive for long enough, and you'll start wanting to.

Anyways, this show and this season certainly have their issues. But I'll always be grateful for Buffy, and I'll always cry when she tells Dawn that she wants to show her the world.

#btvs #btvs meta #buffy summers #buffy season 6

[goatsandgangsters]

had a very interesting day out where I saved a hypothetical dog's life, aesthetically read in the park, and got in the middle of Strangers Arguing in my temporary new job as Patron Saint of Slackliners

first of all, gorgeous day, low 60s, bright blue sky, warm in the sun but with a refreshingly cool breeze, the trees finally have leaves again, peak Late Spring moment

I stopped at the farmer's market and didn't end up buying anything, but someone at a booth gave me a little sprig of lavender (this is a surprise tool that will help us later!)

passed by a guy squatting on the sidewalk picking up the entire contents of a dropped container of grapes, right as his friend was like "it's fine, just leave it, some dog will come by and take care of it" and I whipped around and went "GRAPES ARE SUPER TOXIC TO DOGS!!!" this is an urban area, people don't have yards, there are So Many dogs on the sidewalks, so my first task set by the universe today was sharing Dog Facts so that none of them die

I arrive at the park. I find a lovely tree to sit under. it is the most vibrantly blue-and-green day imaginable. I have my travel mug of hot tea that is only getting hotter sitting in direct sunlight. I have a sprig of lavender in my pocket. I am wearing—this is important scene setting information—high waisted secondhand wool trousers that definitely once belonged to an old man, a button down, tortoise shell glasses, and (again) a sprig of lavender. I am reading a book of oscar wilde plays. I am a parody of myself, but it's fine because I'm having a great time

and then—The Slackline Drama Begins. two people show up and start setting up a slackline near me and these other two girls who're sitting on the grass. the two girls are in the trajectory of the slackline, so the slackliners ask if they could scoot back a couple feet (or maybe they didn't even, the grass girls were like a little off to the side, so they might've just taken issue with the slacklining happening right next to them—not sure, I hadn't fully clocked into the drama yet)

in either case, the girls refuse to move and take issue with the slackliners, who explain that they're really sorry but they need a certain distance between trees and this is one of the few spots that's good for them to set up. the grass girls are like "well then maybe you should have gotten here earlier :))))))))"

important context: this park is 500 acres. it is not a small park. there is no shortage of grass to sit on. I have gotten lost in this park multiple times. it's vast.

there is a lot of back-and-forth between the slackliners and the grass girls. the one slackliner is getting very upset and angry that the grass girls won't just scoot. slackline girl has been having a rough time and hasn't been able to get outside recently and this is very clearly the final shitty-thing straw. the grass girls are immune to this and using that like...... faux-nice "girl who bullied you in middle school" Meanly Chirpy voice to keep being like "well we were here first so this is Our Spot :))))))) you can't ask people to move in public :)))))"

it has gone on long enough that's impossible to ignore, but my mental math says that jumping in and trying to mediate won't go over well, so instead I just look at upset slackline girl and say—loudly—"I'm on your side." bc I felt like if grass girls with their Faux Polite Tones knew other people were paying attention and were siding with Swearing Slackliner, that would help more

Grass Girls do, finally, get up and leave entirely (instead of just...... scooting over five feet) and they make some snide parting remarks. slackline girl calls them assholes, I loudly agree. Slackline Girl is now sobbing, her friend is comforting her, it's kinda clear she's not gonna be able to have a good time even with grass girls leaving

I go over and I'm like "hey I know you don't know me, but do you want a hug?" and the girl says yes, clings onto me crying, she's being very apologetic about the whole thing and trying to explain, and I'm like "no they were literally just sitting on the grass and there is...... So Much Grass. you are not the asshole. there's so much other grass!" I keep this up with her and the friend until she stops crying, bc like sometimes you do need an outside perspective

I go "hey.......... do you want a sprig of lavender?" and she very tearfully nods and goes "I love lavender"

again, I AM DRESSED LIKE A SNAZZY GRANDFATHER, joining this beef between strangers and doling out random sprigs of lavender

anyway, she's cheering up, so I go back to reading, they get slacklining, they end up needing to tie a line to my tree I'm reading under, I don't have a problem with this because I'm not a dick and we can share the tree, the afternoon passes, eventually it's getting a little chilly so I decide to leave and I'm thinking "okay how can I quickly grab their attention to say goodbye"

but the SECOND they see me stand up and grab my things, they're like BYE THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!! and I'm like "I hope you have a good day!" and she's like "you kinda saved it" I'm full of gooey feelings about it, I genuinely want good things to happen for this person so much, and I'm glad the universe appointed me and my sprig of lavender as her cheerer-upper

in conclusion: I'm enjoying Lady Windermere's Fan so far

#you know how sometimes you just swear temporary fealty to a total stranger

[hourcat]

piarles + "good boy" :)

Pierre can see the way Charles' muscles are straining as he's using the last of his strength during this bench press set; admittedly, they're almost at the end of his usual workout routine that's been so carefully put together, so this really just extra because Pierre finds that nothing makes you a better personal trainer than being a bit of an asshole--but Charles responds well to it, and he pays him for it, so at the end of the day, that's become part of his job, too.

"Fuck," Charles grits, and his arms are about to start shaking from where Pierre is standing, so he steps in: with a grunt, he sets the bar back where it belongs as the athlete he's training gasps and heaves in relief below, chest rising and falling, face shiny and shirt an entirely different color from the amount of sweat that's poured off him today. "That was--"

"You made it through a couple more reps than I thought you would," Pierre interrupts, grinning down at Charles' exhausted expression that's too tired to even react the way it should--"but catch your breath, Cha, and we can move on to the cooldown routine."

With a strangled noise, Charles scoots forward on the bench and pushes himself upright once more; his face is soaked with sweat, hair dripping down into his eyes, and Pierre works with at least fifteen different other athletes across a variety of sports but none of them do this exhausted elegance bit quite like the driver hunched over before him.

"Let's get some water in you," he hums, grabbing the bottle from where it's clattered over on the floor and handing it to Charles, who takes it gratefully; he guzzles at first, still not quite having caught his breath, and Pierre has to grab his shoulder gently to remind him--"easy, Charles, don't drown in--yeah, there we go, good boy--"

Charles' eyes fly open suddenly, wide and almost spooked and darker than Pierre thinks he's ever seen them.

send me a ship and a word and i'll write you five sentences <3

#SORRY FOR THE DELAY ZOE ILYYYYY #personal trainer pierre my beloved <3 accidentally unlocking something for his pretty boy client #10 x 16 #fic #five sentence fic meme #ask reply #pierregasiy

[hauntingblue]

ACT 2 OVER LETSGOOOO

#also so funny if they destroy the island... goodbye plan because there is no island anymore lmao #where is luffys sword..... #you know its actually so good how you can excuse someone robbing graves lmao i mean its for a noble cause #one piece's first vegetarian wolf #omg.... goodbye wolfie.... and they won't even know... #talking tag #watching one piece #episode 953 #episode 954 #HOW DID LAW GET OUT???. #last time i saw him he was bleeding and pathetic chained on the floor.... as he should be... #FUCKING APOO WAS THE TRAITOR??? lmaooo #hawkins talking about how he got betrayed and the hitting law with the 'so how are you and your bestie doing' #AND WHO IS THAT????? LAW NO BETRAYAL LAW.... #usopp just on franky's back as he works ajdhsk thats his son fr... #alwo where is nekomamushi..... and who is denjiro...... come on we need the nine samurais man #kaido and mom made up??? apoo you fucking traitor.... enter stage left also his theme sounds like it was made in garage band #WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE CREATURES #yonkou alliance this is going down.... its so over #episode 955 #momo missing his anoying sister omg.... #zoro is here???? where is hiyori??? did he get her sword??? sanji being nice to momo to get with his sister ajdhsksjsk TO JAIL!!! #wait kiku is here too... did luffy just stay there to train??? luffys sword is fine thank god akdhsk #zoro getting another weird fucked up sword... why zoom in om his nipple also.... #hiyori master troll... yeah give us back the nation's sacred sword and you can get the sword that sucks out your soul and spirit in exchange #'once i get used to it' YOU HAVE FIVE DAYS #tama making hats for everyone.... ace.... omg #it is time.... i am so scared.... hiyori HIT IT!!! #WADO AND ENMA SISTERS????? LORE!!!! ORISHI KNOWS!!!! FUCK OFF!!! luffy training looks so cool... where is law.... kid... #episode 956