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mossmurdock · 3 months

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grocery clerk suguru x youtuber reader... we r officially walking people (we r holding hands btw) @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat i hope u dont mind being tagged but i know u were excited about this!!

OK! so this is such a specific concept but it is so very special to me. i imagine suguru working as a clerk with one of those cute little aprons some stores sometimes have their employees wear. so he's got this little job but then later at home he likes messing around online.

yes guys, im making him a little streamer in this au i couldn't help myself. (what games he likes to play specifically i'm not too sure about yet, but i think he likes to stream a variety of things!) he's got a small audience but he's found that it's a cool way for him to decompress so he really enjoys it!

anyway back to the reader. you come into the store suguru works at pretty frequently, with an array of impressively well picked groceries almost every single time. he likes to play this little game when gets bored on shift where he guesses what people are cooking based on what they buy, and you're by far his favourite any time he plays it.

it's a little embarrassing to admit, but you're kind of the best part of his week. always so kind even on days he notices you're in a rush or stressed out, bidding him a good day after you're done bagging your items, a small smile on your lips the few times you raise your head to look at him.

suguru notices that you seem to favor him anytime he's at the registers, feeling an odd sort of pride whenever he spots you scanning the lines and choosing his every-time. call him delusional, but it sort of becomes hard to ignore when you choose him even when a register with a much shorter line is available.

for some reason he's found it strangely difficult to break the ice with you, finding it hard to secede from his practiced script in the short time the two of you share a space. the most deviation he's been able to muster in the past weeks has been asking you if you'd like to sign up for the store's rewards card.

subconsciously searching for something to point out casually takes him a few troubling days, but he finally conjures something in the spur of the moment. right as he's handing you back your cash, suguru notices the vibrant colour of your nails; they're different from last months.

"I like your nails," he mentions quickly, semi distracted by the upcoming customer already beginning to place their items on the belt.

You look up from your bagging and Suguru is able to literally catch the way your face brightens, fixated on the flash of your teeth and the crinkle of your eye. It's the first time he's seen your cheeks rise up so high, delightfully different from the subtle smiles you've granted him till now.

"Thank you," you reply, a laugh laced into your voice. And then you're gone again, throwing a sincere good bye over shoulder, bag hung over your arm, and stepping out the automatic doors.

the interaction is short, brief enough to have suguru thinking about it the rest of the day. latching onto it enough that he finally buys that nail polish remover he's been needing to wipe away the chipped mess on his own fingertips. and maybe he repaints them new with you in mind.

it goes on like this for a little while. you notice the new colour on suguru the next time you see him and compliment it. he does the same for yours, mentioning how close it is to one of his favourite shades. actively holding back from slyly commenting on how you've been subtly matching it to his preferences based on your short conversations. blue, green, black; anything he mentions makes a subtle cameo onto the design of your nails in the following weeks or so.

he never explicitly mentions you during his little streams, but suguru does have this thing where he'll mention craving a specific food that's related to what he'd seen you buy that specific afternoon to his chat. it's fun to mention it to his few viewers, sometimes they'll recommend him tutorials on how to make certain things or even share their own recipes. it often ends rather jokingly, with crazy inedible recipes no one would dare follow, but some times it can be rather wholesome.

one night, he gets off stream and actually decides to check a few of them out. aimlessly scrolling through both the serious and unserious suggestions.

he never would have imagined recognizing your nails, jewelry, and voice after typing in the title of a video and pressing on it.

turns out the reader makes content themselves! they've got this semi-popular cooking channel they've been growing for the past two years or something like that. i like to think it started off as something sort of accidental for you. like one of your close friends liking your cooking so much that they beg you to share it.

then you just kind of picked up the habit of making different types of videos by following a vague schedule. you found yourself really enjoying the process of making the food and sharing the way you did it with people. one of your favourite parts is reading the comments of your videos and seeing how people's food turned out for them, if they liked the taste or if they cooked it for someone else.

it's been a motivator to indulge in your groceries a little more. eventually you switch over to buying at the more expensive grocery store more often in order to purchase higher quality ingredients.

it helps that you meet geto there, the cute clerk who has a sweet voice.

you grow to enjoy him being part of your routine. a small part of you even believes him ringing you up adds a dash of luck to how your cooking will turn out that week.

the more you've frequented, the chattier he's gotten, gracing you more with that silken voice of his. it almost reminds you of a warm meal.

but this afternoon seems odd.

geto can't seem to stop staring at your hands today.

#i totally forgot about this so here it is!#finished it up right before the last class of today :)#AHH IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ARI #it's just a cute thing atm and it will probably stay that way i need more cute writing in my arsenal #moss writes #god I havent used that tag in a bit LMAO #they would both be faceless content creators btw idk if i made that clear enough #this is unedited btw sorry!#jjk x reader #suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader

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slayfics · 5 months

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A Ride Home

You go to a party with Denki.

Warnings: Angst | Denki aged up | NSFW themes | Denki is kind of a scumbag in this sorry ;-;

2,200 words~

Chapter links

Part One

You shifted in the passenger seat feeling nervous but trying to look confident. All your nervousness faded as Denki made his way into the driver's seat and turned to you.

"You look really amazing today by the way, like wow~" He said, eyes sparkling and smiling at you in his passenger seat.

"Thank you Kaminari," You replied and couldn't help the blush growing on your cheeks. "You look good too," you said shyly. And he did look good. His Pikachu hoodie looked adorable on him.

"Awe, you're too kind," He laughed and unlocked his phone, putting the directions on to the party at Mina's place you were both headed to. "Sooo are you ready for this party?" He asked.

"Yeah! I'm excited to see everyone, and just relax for a bit, you know?" You replied.

"Oh yeah- I get ya. This week has been sooo hard. Can't wait to drink and just not think about anything having to do with hero stuff." Denki paused for a bit as he listened to the directions coming from his phone. "I guess I'm excited to see everyone too, but being honest- I'm mostly just excited to spend some time with you," Denki said, giving you a small wink.

Your face flushed once more and your heart fluttered at his playful comment. Denki had this way of making you feel like you were the only girl in the world. When you were with him it felt impossible to have any insecurities. He silenced them all with the way his eyes sparked when he saw you, and you were sure you could get lost in his gaze, it was addicting.

"I'm- excited to spend time with you too," You answered him nervously, playing with your fingers, as you took another glance at him. His hand drooped lazily over the steering wheel as he drove, and you noticed the black and yellow nail polish on his fingers that had started to chip. It must have been a week ago that he agreed to let you paint them. He had also recently showered for the party so his hair was especially fluffy, almost inviting you to play with it. And his cologne was subtly invading your nose luring you in.

"Well- if that's the case... we could...skip the party? Just go back to my place?" He asked, giving you a sly smile.

You felt your heart stop. Was he really insinuating what you think he was? You bit your lip while you contemplated his invitation. You've had a crush on Denki for a while now, and the thought of skipping the party to just be with him sounded exhilarating. You had promised Mina you would show up though, and you didn't want to break that promise.

"I promised Mina I would at least make an appearance at her party..." You said softly, disappointed in yourself for not giving in and saying yes to him.

Denki laughed, "No worries! We'll go to the party and see what it has to offer, kay? We are almost there too. GPS says two more minutes. Oh hey!" He said excitedly as he picked up his phone to change the song playing. "I have a song to show you," he said, turning the volume up. "This song totally reminds me of you," He said, smile shimmering.

There it was again- your heart dropped and you felt stupidly happy by all his attention, "That is- so cute Kaminari, this song really reminds you of me?" you asked.

"Mhm- sure does, I think about you every time it comes on. Looks like we're here though," he said, parking the car. "Stay here, kay? I'll grab your door," Denki turned the car off and made his way outside to the passenger side door.

Denki opened your door with his signature smile, "Ready?" he asked, holding his hand out for you to grab.

You grabbed his hand and he gently helped you out of the car. "Damn," He said, eyeing your outfit again. "Sorry- just can't get over how good you look today. I hope the rest of our friends are able to handle it~ Ok let's go," he said, guiding you to the front door.

You could hear the loud music from inside as you both approached the front door. You felt your heart rate begin to increase. Big social events already made you a bit anxious. Denki knocked and smiled at you, noticing your apprehensiveness, "Don't look so nervous cutie, it's just our friends. We'll have a good time, promise."

Mina opened the door, a smile erupting on her face when she saw you both, "You guys made it!" She said, wrapping her arms around you both. "Come in, come in!" She said and pulled you both in and shut the door.

"Everyone is pretty much here already, drinks are in the kitchen, and thanks for coming! I was in the middle of a conversation with Tsu so- I'll leave you both to it," She winked at you and left. Mina was the only one you had confessed your feelings about Denki to, and ever since then, she had tried to push you closer to him. Which while annoying, was actually helpful.

"Don't have to tell me twice, let's get some drinks cutie?" Denki asked, looking at you for approval.

You nodded and followed him into the kitchen.

"HEY MAN!" An excited Eijiro called out upon noticing Denki. "You finally got here! Feels like I've been waiting forever! Oh and hi to you too," Eijiro said, smiling sweetly at you.

"Sorry, the cutie over here needed some extra time to get into that super attractive outfit," Denki joked, flashing you a wink.

Eijiro laughed, "No worries man, hey I'm going to get Sero and Bakugo so we can all take a shot. Stay right here ok!" Eijiro said leaving the kitchen in a hurry.

"Oh wow a shot right away, hu?" You laughed trying to hide your nervousness.

"Kirishima gets too excited when we all get together. He's a good guy though. Oh, and don't worry here," Denki said, grabbing you an alcoholic seltzer. "Just use this as a chaser if you need it, kay? I'll be right here so it'll be fine, no need to worry~"

Kirishima returned to the kitchen followed by a smiling Hanta and a scowling Katsuki.

"Alright, let me just get five shot glasses," Eijiro said while puttering around the kitchen.

"Four! I'm not drinking that crap. I'm the one that has to look out for you idiots," Katsuki growled.

"Bakugoooo~! You haven't drunk all night, one shot with your bros isn't going to keep you from your DD duties," Eijiro complained.

"UGH! Fine, but I swear shitty hair just the one! Got it?" Katsuki snarled.

"Of course man, just the one," Eijiro said, as he poured out five shots, and began to pass them around.

"Alright, everyone ready?" Eijiro asked, looking around the group.

"Yup," Hanta nodded.

"What should we cheers to?" Denki asked.

"Hmmm, plus ultra?" Hanta said laughing.

"I'll fucking murder you," Katsuki said unamused by the joke.

"Let's just- cheers to a fun night. Yeah?" Eijiro suggested.

"Sounds good to me~" Denki agreed.

You followed the boy's lead and raised your shot glass, then reluctantly poured the shot into your mouth. The bitter taste was hard to ignore, causing you to wince.

"You got it cutie, just don't think about it and swallow it fast. You won't have to taste it that way," Denki said, encouraging you.

Hanta and Eijiro laughed at each other, seemingly about what Denki said.

"You fucking pervs," Katsuki grumbled and looked away from the group.

"Alright, there you go, I knew you could do it!" Denki smiled, as you finally managed to get the shot down.

"Ok should we get back to the party then?" Eijiro suggested.

"Yeah! Hey Kaminari, some of those girls from Class B are here," Hanta said, wrapping his arm around Denki.

"Oh really~" Denki said looking at his friend mischievously, as Hanta guided him out of the kitchen. Eijiro trailed right behind them.

For the first time of the night, your heart dropped in a very different way, as you stood in the kitchen dumbfounded.

What?

Hadn't Denki been flirting with you this whole night? In the car, in the kitchen saying your outfit was attractive. He had even called you cutie several times in the past hour. And- invited you to skip the party to go to his place, oh-

You felt your heart shattering into pieces as you came upon a thought that was too painful to accept: Denki's just trying to get laid.

"God damn that's a pathetic look on your face," Katsuki said, causing you to jump. You hadn't noticed he didn't follow the rest of the boys.

"Hu? Oh uh- just the shot still lingering in my mouth I guess," You said, trying to find any lie you could.

"Tch- You think I'm stupid or something? I've noticed the eyes you've been giving Dunce Face the past few weeks. You've got it bad for him." Katsuki said, freezing you in place.

"It... it's that obvious?" You asked pathetically and looked down at the floor. If it was that obvious, did Denki notice too, you wondered?

"Of course it is! Maybe it isn't to those other extras, but- it is to me. I'm not clueless like the rest of them," Katsuki replied. You fiddled with the drink in your hand and then thought maybe Katsuki could give you some advice.

"He's your friend right??" You asked.

"Barley," Katsuki exhaled amused.

"Well- what do you think I should do?" You asked looking up at Katsuki.

"Hm-" Katsuki looked at you with an intense stare as if thinking over his answer. "Forget him," He said sternly.

"Wh-what?!" You explained. That was not the answer you expected.

"You heard me. Forget the damn sparky idiot, save yourself some trouble." Katsuki said and exited the kitchen, leaving you alone to process what that could have meant.

Katsuki was one of Denki's friends whether he admitted it or not, and- he said to forget him... What does he know that you don't, you wondered. You felt tears sting your eyes as your mind wandered back to your previous thoughts. Denki is just trying to get laid, and Katsuki's words seem to back up that theory.

You ran over every interaction you ever had with Denki, he was always overly flirty but... he never did ask to date you. Never asked to take you out anywhere... It became painfully obvious what his intentions now were. How could you have been so blind before? A tear dropped down into your drink.

Fuck.

You didn't want to stand in the kitchen crying about it. You downed your drink instead, trying to numb out the painful thoughts. Crushing the can you tossed it and quickly grabbed another from the fridge.

Whatever.

It was a party, you could still have fun... even if your innocent daydreams of becoming Denki's girlfriend were now nothing but a cruel joke.

You walked out into the living room and imminently regretted it.

Denki was standing next to one of the girls that you recognized as being from class B. He was standing too close and was giving her those same sparkly eyes he had been flashing to you all night. The song just changed to a slower song allowing you to faintly hear their conversation.

"Oh wow, this song totally reminds me of you~," he said giving her a wink.

Your eyes stung and a lump gathered in your throat. Did he really just give her the same line he told you just moments ago? You ran quickly to the backyard hoping to outrun the pain. You collapsed onto the patio couch and hung your head in your hands. How did this night turn so quickly?

"Thought I told you to forget him," A stern voice said.

You looked up and through the blur of your tears could see unmistakable spiky blond hair.

"Fuck you're crying?" Katsuki sighed and sat next to you. "The hell made that idiot so appealing anyway?"

You took a deep breath trying to get yourself under control, "Made me feel special-," You said barely able to speak between your sobs.

"Just breathe, it'll be alright," Katsuki said. "Plenty of other extras better than that moron. You sure you still want to be here?" Katsuki asked.

You sniffed, "He drove me here," You explained. Fuck that's right, he took you here. The thought of facing him again after what you just saw made your stomach turn sour.

"Shit," Katsuki breathed out.

"Bakugo- can... can you take me home?" You asked, remembering he had said he was the DD for his friends tonight.

"Hu? Fuck-," He said contemplating for a second. "Yeah sure," He said standing up.

"What are you doing?" you asked confused.

"You want to go home right?" He asked.

"Oh I mean- when you are done, I don't want to make you miss the party," You said.

Katsuki let out a booming laugh, "I fucking hate these things. I'll take any excuse to leave. Besides- I'll make sure Dunce Face knows I took you home. That'll be sure to piss him off." Katsuki said, smirking at you.

You thought of how shocked Denki's face would look when Katsuki told him, and you couldn't help but smile. You knew wanting revenge was wrong but- it felt good.

"Come on cry baby, let's get the fuck out of here," Katsuki waved at you to follow him, and you did.

Tags: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries

#denki x y/n #denki x reader #mha denki #bnha denki #denki kaminari #denki x you #kaminari x y/n #mha kaminari #kaminari x reader #bnha kaminari #mha x y/n #mha x you #mha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x self insert #bnha x you #bnha x reader

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izgnanik-a · 3 months

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Suffer Does The Wolf (Crawling To Thee) iii

Summary: Simon knew the exact moment when he knew he had to have you for himself. It was only a matter of time before his military skills allowed himself into your home, into your life. And once he stuck — he wasn’t going to let you back out of his webs.

Tags: non-con, stalker!Ghost, fem reader, mature content

MINORS DNI

previous part ⬅️ next part ➡️

Simon didn't know what comes over him every time. He was a soldier for crying out loud. He's fallen into a chain of command that if his captain told him to shoot and kill, so be it.

He would.

But when it came to you, so delicate, and so god damned precious — he couldn't bring himself to form coherent sentences or replies. That was until the single message came in that made him drop everything and just stare — " do you want to grab a drink sometime? "

He was practically shaking with unadulterated joy.

It had been near a week since you gave him your number, and you’d text back and forth throughout. It was nothing major, just casual “ how are you doing’s? “ and “ I hope your day goes well “ and “ it’s going to rain today! “

You always initiated conversation. And you never seemed to mind, always smiling when he’d come by the days after and he’d get his coffee.

He felt a genuine connection, one he didn’t think he was capable of feeling in a long time. Sure — it was solely based off of wanting you for himself, but he knew that he could feel something with that emotion alone.

He would refuse to acknowledge it as a possessive obsession.

You didn’t see it that way, or else you wouldn’t have given him your number.

You’re not stupid. Well. Not that stupid. Maybe you shouldn’t have given him your number, but that was his whole ploy — he needed your number. He needed into your life.

As usual, he waited a moment before replying. The message bubbles appearing on your end of the screen, how could he be nonchalant but delighted to have your company? How could he translate that over the phone?

The message read “ ok “

Your message bubbles appeared. Disappeared. Appeared. Staggered in a constant blink. And gone.

Did he offend you? Did you change your mind because of his reply? Did you get busy at home? Did something happen to you?

Why didn’t you text him back?

He almost tore down all of his walls before your message came through. He was burrowing in his head when he rose to his feet and picked his cracked phone off the ground.

Your message read “ can’t wait! “

When he came into the cafe the next day you worked, his hands were shaking. He could hear your voice before seeing you, and when he did see you — oh, his heart was alight.

His eyes fanned down to your nail polish, that pale color still painted, the nail polish he’d given you was chipping at the edges. But still there.

He approached the line.

“This ain’t what I ordered.” Said a customer, gritting through his teeth at you.

You held your polite smile. “Okay, we can change that for you. What is it that you wanted to order?” Your tone was cheery.

Simon wanted to bash this guy’s skull in for you.

If you asked him to, he would.

“I was charged for a large when I wanted a medium, two espresso shots, cold foam, and no sugar. The fuck is this.” The customer pointed at the cup on the counter, no lid on it.

Simon clenched his jaw tightly.

“Hey, you’re holding up the line.” Said the customer between Simon and the rowdy customer.

“You wait your turn.” Growled the man.

“We can get you a refund and the correct drink if you step to the side.” You said politely. Your eyes grazed over the tops of the customer’s heads to Simon.

You held his eyes for a moment before fading back into reality.

“This isn’t the first time there’s been a mistake like this. I’m tired of getting the wrong coffee.”

“Then order it correctly.” Simon said.

The man turned to speak up but his eyes drew up at Simon. Compared to Simon, he was average. He clamped his mouth shut, collected his refunded money, and stepped aside.

The customer before Simon ordered quick and easy. Then it was Simon’s turn, and everything could turn to dust and he’d just be fixated on you.

You smiled up at him. “Hi.” You cooed.

Simon took in a deep breath. “Hi.”

“And what can I get for you, sir?” You teased.

“A drink? On me?” He cleared his throat, “Since you asked.”

You laughed softly and nodded, biting your lip softly. “Anything else?”

God — he could think of so many things.

“Medium black coffee.”

“And your name?” You still teased.

“Simon.”

“I could’ve sworn you looked like a John.”

Simon scoffed. “Yeah, well, can’t have randos knowing my name, can I?”

“Certainly not.” You rang him out and set his coffee on the counter before him. “I get out at eight today, if you’re not busy.”

“I’m not.” He practically rushed to say.

“Cool.” You smiled. “We can walk around the block to this restaurant / bar. It’s a good place for food.”

Simon nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.” You smiled, blushing in the face. “See you later then?”

He nodded again.

“I gotta work so—“ you pointed to the line behind him.

“Right. Work.”

“But tonight—“

“Yeah.”

You waved your hand. “Text me.”

And Simon impatiently waited by the clock the entire time until then.

Do not copy my works and post elsewhere.

#izgnanik-a #cod mw x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod modern warfare #simon riley x you

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krikeymate · 10 months

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For @lionydoorin, who requested some post-5 Sam and Tara re-learning each other. Found here.

“Are you… okay?”

Sam’s hovering. Again.

Every 15 minutes without fail, Sam appears and lingers in her doorway.

Tara pretends not to notice. She’ll resolutely stare at the book in her hands as if it holds the answers to the universe, not a single word absorbed, and skip forward a few pages once her sister disappears down the hallway once again.

Sam keeps asking her, but Tara doesn’t know the answer.

Are you okay? Do you need help? Does it hurt? Did you take your medication? Have you done your stretches? Have you got your inhaler? Are you hungry? Am I bothering you? It’s all too much. It’s almost suffocating.

Tara’s spent all these years wishing her sister was here, and even longer wishing she would just ask her if she was ok, that she would look at her, that she would see her. And now she’s got it but she doesn’t know what to do with it.

Glancing up, she’s taken aback by how uncertain Sam looks. She’s chewing on her lip, eyes flickering over Tara’s body as if expecting to find some new so-far undiscovered wound, or that she’s suddenly bleeding out on the bed. She’s wringing her hands together, chipped nail polish flashing in and out of Tara’s vision.

She’s been chewing her nails.

Sam hasn’t done that since they were kids… she thinks. Or maybe she has. There are so many years of undiscovered territory between them now, a glaring blank spot on the map of their lives. Tara wonder’s if it’s even possible to fill it in. They can’t go back, they can only salvage scraps of the past.

Is there anything left to reclaim? She hopes so. She’s missed her so much.

“I’m ok,” she responds softly, lips twitching into a small smile on reflex, an act she’d practised until it had been ingrained into her subconscious. She tries to ignore the reason why that had been necessary.

Tara doesn’t notice as the book in her hands slips into her lap, distracted as she watches Sam’s shoulders relax at her words, her hands stilling against the door frame, body half hidden. Her sister stands there with what is undeniably a peculiar shyness.

Sam Carpenter is not shy.

She’s confident. And headstrong. Unwavering. Sam’s always known what she wants, and never failed to get it. Sam isn’t shy, or nervous, or… or the type to tip-toe around. That’s not who she is, Tara knows that’s not who is. She can’t have changed that much; she’s seen that side of her since she came back. It kept them alive. It argued with doctors and forced her to eat even when she felt too sick to do so. It cussed out the reporters waiting for them as they left the hospital and kept dialling their mother until she finally picked up the phone, just so she could give her a piece of her mind. She’s still Sam, her hero. The strongest person she knows.

So she wonders who this is now, standing before her, wearing Sam’s face.

She just wants her sister. That’s all she’s ever wanted.

“Do you…” Tara licks her lips, doubting herself. “Do you want to come in?”

It’s reassuring, the way Sam begins to nod her head before she’s even finished talking. She can only bear watching her sister stand awkwardly in the middle of the room for a few seconds however, before she’s shuffling over on the bed.

Tara ignores Sam’s call of “woah, hey, don’t do that” and focuses on breathing through the stabbing pain that pulses through her body at the movement instead. The relentless tingling in her palm radiates up her arm as she leans on it, and there’s a nausea climbing her throat that she has to swallow back. This is necessary, she tells herself. She needs to do this. She needs-

When she’s settled herself, she looks up to find Sam with one knee on the bed, hands twitching in the air between the two of them, too hesitant to move any further.

Tara’s tired of this hesitance.

She tilts her head to the space beside her and catches her eyes.

Sam’s gaze flicks between the empty space and her sister, uncertain. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she murmurs, leaning back.

“You won’t,” Tara replies. It’s the most certain she’s been of anything in years, she thinks. “Come lie down with me.” It’s not a request. It’s been so long since she’s lain with her sister, she doesn’t remember what it feels like.

There’s a lot she can’t remember, like the sound of Sam’s laugh when she’s happy, or the tone of her voice whenever she would talk over every movie they would watch. She wants to see the look of frustration on her face when she tries to open the back door and it sticks, as it always has, and to enjoy the look of bliss on her face when she steals mother’s chocolates. The mischievous grin she would throw her before handing her some as well.

She wants to experience it all again, to memorise it properly this time. Then at least when Sam leaves again, she won’t be taken off guard, she’ll have the memories locked safely away to comfort her through her loneliness.

The dip of the mattress snaps her out of her thoughts.

“Your bed seems smaller,” Sam comments, almost absent-mindedly, as she studies the room from her new vantage point. Her eyes linger on the vanity, at the photographs that line the edge of the mirror. Amber, Amber, Amber. She’s everywhere in this room. It’s funny, Tara hadn’t even noticed. But Sam had. It used to be her permeating through Tara’s life after all.

She finds her breath catching in her throat as she spies Sam’s frown. That isn’t a memory she wants to keep.

Tara looks away and lies back down, startling as her forgotten book slips over her knee. Sam leans over and grabs it before it falls from the bed. As Sam leans back, Tara finds herself following after her, drawn by the warmth of her body against hers. She rests her head on Sam’s shoulder as her sister sneaks an arm around her.

The shaky breath Sam lets out tells Tara all she needs to know.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers.

But it’s nice to hear it anyway.

“I missed you too,” Tara replies. She turns into Sam’s side and wraps her arms around her, like she used to. “Will you read to me,” she sighs into Sam’s neck.

“Where were you?” she asks, pulling up her knees to rest the worn copy of Peter Pan against them, fingers tracing the letters scratched into the cover. S A M.

“Just start over.”

#/mp #Scream #Sam Carpenter #Tara Carpenter #my writing tag

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bunniesnuggie · 2 years

Text

~Eddie as a caregiver~

cg!eddie munson x little!(gn)reader

summary: general headcanons of our baby cow bf as our caregiver

some more cg! eddie headcanons because we all need it right now

as i said before eddie is very artsy and he will color with you

he has “grown up” dnd coloring books, but he totally lets you help him color them, he doesn’t care if you go outside the lines or use mismatched colors. his baby cakes made it :) he a special one that he uses just for himself

btw he calls you baby cakes

idk i saw it on this donut thing the other day and my brain was like - eddie -

always puts your comfort over his. always.

everyone talks about wearing is jacket, which is a given. but if you slip out in public while wearing platforms/heels/big people shoes etc. he’s slipping off his boots, pulling out extra socks and putting them on you

oh yeah he’s got a “baby bag” for you

just a little backpack of your choosing that you both switch between carrying. he carry’s it for you when you get tired of it 🫠 it’s small so it only holds the necessities; small stufffie, socks, stash away paci, and head phones for sensory reasons :)

heard someone say that he’s wear pink nail polish to match reader and y e s

his nails used to alway be black and chipping but now they always match yours or are color you picked. he also lets you draw little designs on them and god forbid someone says something about them

i will die on my eddie is protective hill

he almost never lets you out of his site in little space. he has to know where every bump, scrape and bruise come from. if you like me and you bruise easy or are super clumsy - poor boy, he’s wrapping you bubble wrap and strapping a hockey helmet on you 🫠

gets genuinely invested in your shows and movies

one of the reason why he such a good caregiver is he genuinely enjoys it, he enjoys taking care of you of course, but he also loves to play with you and hangout with you. so if you have no little friends it’s ok, eddie is kinda like a kid too :)

he does not care about the “gross” things that you and your body do

you got a runny nose? he’s lightly pinching the tip of it to wipe away the snot. drooling all over his shoulder because you passed out while cuddling? absolutely fine, his favorite thing. you have troubles with bladder control or anything? “angel look, they make the cute pull ups in your size”. if pull-ups or diapers aren’t your thing, he gets you special waterproof sheets and makes sure he always takes you potty before bed. he will wipe you and help you wash your hands. probably would ask to help change your period products if you use them. he . does. not . care

eddie loves to try to win you stuffies at the local fair, will spend hours trying and so much money he could’ve just bought you one

steve ends up trying the basketball one and winning you a huge stuffed dragon and eddie gets all butt hurt until you name it after his dnd character, after that he’s all :D “my baby named their dragon after me”

getting happy meals in his van

you always sit in the back, in a special seat that eddie decked out to feel like a car seat. it’s got little arm rests as well as cup holders and he somehow added extra belts to keep you super safe. he always drives safer with you regardless if you’re regressed or not.

loves when you take care of him in littlespace

one of his favorite memories is coming home after the events in the upside down and having you comfort and care for him so diligently (i have a small fic about this self plug ). or the rare occasion where he gets a cold and you go all doc mcstuffins on him. band aids everywhere, why bandaids for a cold? he doesn’t ask. thermometer that you don’t know how to read, blankeys, stuffies, and a stethoscope he has no idea came from. (should i make this a full story bc i can keep going 🙃)

A/N : i love headcanons so much because something so simple really makes the character more complex :) buuut i’m terrible at making them short and concise

also do we like the little scenarios with the headcanons or is just the idea / headcanon alone better???

ps: i’m working on like three fics / one shots i still don’t know the difference rn and then i’ll get the edited and out to you guys :) and as always just let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list!

//tag list//

@bootlegmothman420 @angelbaby-fics

#cg!eddie #cg!eddie munson #cg!eddie munson x little!reader #x little!reader #age regression #little space #sfw agere #sfw littlespace #sfw smolspace #sfw little friends #sfw little post #age dreaming #agere post #sfw age dreamer

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kryptonitejelly · 2 years

Note

Hi!! can i request a blurb for reader falling asleep on hotch? like where they're not together, just best friends and have lots of feelings for each other and reader just is so tired she falls asleep on his shoulder or lap and he just kisses her forehead and lovingly teases her about it later?

A/N: yes you may!!!!!! this is SO cute and i love itttttttt ahhhhhh bb thank you for sending this in <3

Requests for blurbs are currently open here.

“Are you sure you want to watch this?”

“As sure as I’ll ever be Hotchner.” You place your glass of wine down on his coffee table, before pulling the throw he had, always kept on the corner of his sofa, because you got cold easily.

He raises a brow at your response as he picks up the remote and settles down beside you. He glances at you from the corner of his eyes and notes the shadows under your eyes, the slightly dull edge to your skin, the chipped nail polish on your nails (gnawed off by you in a stress induced haze), and the excessive rubbing of the knot you had in your neck - all of which tell him that it had been both a harrowing and sleepless week for you at the office, something which he knew, not from being a profiler, but from being your best friend since law school.

“We can always save it for later.” He tries again, only to be silenced by a threatening finger over his lips.

“Press play.” You command, waiting for him to start the episode, bent on staying faithful to your Friday night tradition, on the Fridays neither of you had to work at least, before you drop your finger.

Fifteen minutes, was all it took for him to he proven right, that you were exhausted out of your mind.

Aaron finds himself looking down at you, head slumped against his shoulder, your deep rhythmic breathing confirming that you were indeed, fast asleep. He can’t help but smile to himself as you twitch in your sleep, hands curled into loose fists by your side. Your head slumps further down his arm, and he slips a hand between your head and his shoulder, dislodging you gently, while manoeuvring your head to settle on his lap. He watches as you shift your body in your sleep, naturally, without waking up, into a vertical position on his sofa, a testament to how much you needed sleep.

He threads a finger through the lock of hair falling across your face, and watches as you inhale and exhale peacefully, mouth hanging slightly open. He leans forward and down, lips brushing across your forehead in a gentle kiss. You shift in response, a pause in your breathing pattern interrupting and he holds his breath, worried that he has woken you, mind racing with nerves he could not pinpoint. He relaxes as your breathing picks up the same steady rhythm as before.

You stir to find your cheek pressed against Aaron’s thigh.

“What happened.” You manage to croak out, your head still heavy with sleep, but managing to make out the muffled hum of the television playing behind you.

“You fell asleep,” you pick up his voice, “just like I said you would.”

“Aaron.” You groan, in defiance and protest as you try to lift your head from his thigh, only to fail miserably, sleep still coating your limbs.

“Press play.” He mimics your earlier words and you manage to huff, while turning your face into the top of his thigh in an act of denial.

“ ‘S not my fault worked sucked this week.” You whine, to which he laughs. You shiver lightly at his touch, as he moves a hand to rub comforting circles against your back.

“Want to stay here tonight?” He asks.

“Please.” You mumble out.

“Ok, c’mon.” He lifts your head, placing it gently onto the surface of sofa, and without warning, you feel him pushing the throw off your body, gathering you bridal style into his arms.

“Aaron, I can walk.” You protest, to which he shushes you.

“And let you trip in my house so you can bring a claim against me? I rather not.” He jokes, and you roll your eyes, while giving up your fight.

He nudges the door of his bedroom open with a foot, pulls back the covers with one hand, and settles you onto his bed before pulling the covers back around you.

“Sleep.” He orders, to which you mock narrow your eyes at him for a moment, before gladly complying.

He shuts the door, slipping into the other side of his bed, throwing a glance at your the back of your sleeping form, his features soft, before reaching to flick off the lights.

#asks #send asks #requests are open #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner blurbs #blurb #idiots in love

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betweenthings2 · 2 months

Note

the smut prompt fill you just posted was so good! i would love to see you do ❛ i’ve never done something like this before. ❜

Thank you for the ask!! This smut prompt list is here and all the prompt lists on my blog are tagged as 'prompts.'

I'm back with more potentially subpar smut for "I've never done something like this before."

*This is adult content, proceed accordingly.*

They're long past the point of no return by the time George says it. They're both naked and hard and half drunk with want when he says it. Matty has one hand around George's cock, murmuring something about how good it's going to feel inside of him when George says it.

"I've," a pause, "I've never done something like this before," he admits, voice very quiet.

Matty stops his movements, but doesn’t remove his hand and promises, "'s ok." He leans down for a quick kiss, then, "I'll show you."

"I don't want to hurt you," George protests, now properly worried. His cock hasn't gotten the memo, still hard and leaking in Matty's hand. It does something to George to see Matty's hand wrapped around his cock, chipped nail polish on fingers that don't meet.

"You won't," Matty says. "I won't let you."

"Matty," George starts.

Matty rests his hand on George's chest, over his heart, and says, "I promise you won't hurt me. We can stop, if you want, or I can tell you exactly what I'm gonna do. We can stop after that, too. Whenever you want. We don't have to do this today."

George nods and in the same quiet, sort of reverent tone, says, "I don't want to stop. I'm just," he stops, considering his words.

"I know," Matty cuts in. "But here's what I'm gonna do, ok?" When George nods, he continues, "I'm gonna suck your cock, because I'd quite like to and I'm very good at it, and then I'm going to get myself ready, and then," Matty pauses, finding George's gaze with his own, "I'm going to ride you and you'll wonder why we didn't do this sooner."

George nods and watches Matty move from straddling his hips to settle between his legs. He leans down and laps at the tip of George's cock, teasing, then takes the head into his mouth. George gasps and his hands go to Matty's head, fingers tangling into his curls. Matty lets him and instead focuses on making him feel good, taking him as deep as he can before George chokes out a warning that's he's getting close. Matty is semi-reluctant, but he pulls his mouth from George's cock with a lewd noise and wipes his mouth with the back of his mouth, settling back between George's knees.

George props himself up on his elbows, panting slightly, and says, "Fuck, Matty."

Matty smirks. "I told you," he says.

"You tell me a lot of things."

Matty's expression softens to a smile and he leans down for a kiss. George holds him close, just kissing for a moment, before Matty sits up again and says, "'m gonna get myself ready now and you're gonna watch me do it."

George nods, watching with rapt attention as Matty slicks his fingers and reaches around, pushing one, then two inside, then, when he's ready, three. It's an awkward angle and as much as Matty likes making George watch, he can't help but wish it was George doing this. George would have a better angle, would be able to reach Matty's prostate. Delayed gratification, Matty thinks, that's what this is.

When Matty is done prepping himself, he takes George's cock in his hand, stroking with teasingly light pressure to evenly spread lube. He moves so that he's straddling George's hips and lets George guide him down onto his cock. When he's taken everything, Matty stills, head bowed and already panting slightly. He thought he'd been thorough with the prep, but he has small hands and George is big and the stretch is more than he'd expected.

George runs a hand up Matty's back and asks, "Matty? Are you-"

Matty nods. "I'm ok. 's just," he shifts his hips slightly, choking on his words when George's cock bumps against his prostate, "fuck, you're big."

George settles his hands on Matty's narrow hips and says, almost reverently, "You feel so good around me, love. You look so pretty and you feel so good."

Matty preens, straightening up to bare his neck and push hair our of his face. He's flushed and sweaty and he looks absolutely wrecked already, and he says, "You can't just say things like that."

"Not even if they're true?"

"George," Matty says, voice low, "I want you to fuck me."

So George uses his grip on Matty's hips to guide his movements, slow at first, then a little bit faster, rhythm steady and even, and thrusts his own hips up to meet Matty's movements. Matty lets out little whimpers every time George hits his prostate and reaches for his own cock, doing his best to stroke himself in time with the rhythm George has set. He doesn't really have time to warn George that he's going to cum, he just does when George hits his prostate again. All it takes is a few more thrusts before George cums, too, and Matty is certain he can feel it somewhere deep inside.

Matty slumps forward onto George's chest, George still inside of him, once they've both cum. His body feels like jello and his brain feels empty. It's all he can do to cling to George and breathe. George is gentle when he helps Matty lay down properly and pulls out, gentle hands running over Matty's flushed and heated skin. Matty whines a bit when he's empty, but he doesn't say anything, just keeps clinging. George lets him, offering quiet words and gentle touches until Matty moves and speaks.

"Are you sure you haven't done this before?" he asks, voice quiet.

"'bout as sure as I can be," George answers. "But I'm gonna remember this the next time I want you to be quiet, that you get quiet when you're well-fucked."

Matty huffs a little laugh. "You're really making some bold assumptions about your own abilities."

"Am I wrong?"

Matty is quiet for a few moments, like he's reluctant to admit George is right, despite the evidence, then he admits, "I suppose not."

George presses a kiss to Matty's temple and asks, "You feel alright?"

Matty nods and cuddles into George's side, saying, "You're not gonna break me, George. I'm fine. Are you?"

George nods. "Yeah," he promises.

There's quiet for a few moments, then Matty asks, "Was I right? Are you wondering why we didn't do this sooner?"

George laughs. "You're impossible."

#my fic

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one-true-houselight · 2 years

Text

The Angel and the Demon on My Shoulders are Married

There’s an angel on one shoulder, and a demon on the other. Opposites, two sides of a coin, a constant push and pull against what I want and what I should.

Or not. Sometimes they’re there, but sometimes they fuck off to the Ritz, or they both sit on one side. The demon sleeps a lot, mussing up his red hair, or sometimes her red hair, or their, or, or, or-

The angel likes it any way.

They’re not opposites, not really, but they help me still, when they aren’t bickering about what they ate that one time in Germany before it was called Germany.

What should I do in life? I ask

What is good, says the angel.

What you love, says the demon.

Make them the same thing then, the angel says with a smile. The demon calls him a sap, but he loves the good so, so much, so it doesn’t sting.

Make sure you eat well, and eat things you enjoy

Get enough sleep. Sometimes you need to just pass out, and look at things again in the morning.

Gender is fake, the demon explains, pulling her hair into a bun.

But so is justice, and mercy, and weekends, says the angel, so pick the things that work for you and that you want to see in the world.

Steal all the genders, agrees the demon.

That Is Not What I Meant You Know That-

It’s too late, I’ve nicked another, and the demon holds their hand out and offers me chipped nail polish, or an abandoned suit jacket, or just the feeling of children loudly asking their parents what I am on a crowded subway.

The angel rolls his eyes. We create the world we want to live in, he says, and we are of that world, so we create ourselves. And just the same, in loving ourselves as we are, we love the world as it can be.

You’ve been reading too many poetry books, said the demon.

Maybe he has been, but I appreciate that sometimes straight up prose cannot contain the things I feel in the universe, and so I dip into the well of pretty purple prose and use it to punch holes into new perspectives.

I want to make sure the people I care about know I love them, I say. My therapist had me take the Love Language quiz.

The angel and the demon laugh. Five? asks the demon. Are there only five colors when you paint?

Only five elements to make up the universe? asked the angel.

Of course you bring up chemistry, angel, mutters the demon.

The point stands.

I suppose it does, I say.

The demon sighs. You show love by being there when you’re needed, she says. And by not being there when what’s needed is distance.

Love is stored in looks, and laughs, and slowing down your car when I scream, even if it’s only a little, says the angel. The demon laughs, xer eyes glinting mischievously.

Love is touch, is holding doors, is sending funny pictures at 2am. It is inside laughter, tears, screams, groans, and sighs.

Sometimes, love is a tartan thermos of certain death and last, desperate chances at protection. It’s knowing when you need to slow down, and when you need to speed up, says the angel.

Even if it changes, even if there’s hard times, or breaks and cracks, it endures. It fights back when people try to tear it from your grasp, it destroys barriers that keep you apart, and therefore keep you back, away from you.

It can’t always be snogging at St. James Park, says the demon.

The angel raises the eyebrows. Do you want to snog at St. James Park?

Absolutely not, not my scene, says the demon. Besides, wouldn’t want the ducks to see me like that.

Oh good, that’s not my scene either. Remembering I’m there, the angel adds, That’s love too. Knowing it comes in all shapes and sizes and actions. There is no one thing that must be present, no one way to show or do or experience it.

I ask that we stop talking about snogging, as it’s not my scene either. They agree.

I know I see the world differently, I know I want different things from myself and others. And I know it’s ok, and I know I have people. But sometimes, it feels like I’ll still end up by myself, a stray thought wondering what I was up to before being forgotten again.

Well, says the demon thoughtfully, you’ll always have us. And the other characters you drag from the shows and weave into the tapestry that is you.

I believe the term is Bebop from my shows says the angel.

It absolutely is not. Stop guessing what bebop is, angel.

Whatever we are, you’ll have others too. Every time you live as you want to, every time you tell people how you love, how you see the world, you carve out more space for you and people like you. And people who insist differently, that there are only certain ways to structure your life, they are missing out.

Believe me, says the demon. You will not be forgotten by anyone who knows you. You are colorful, you are movement and words and humanity. Formed from stardust, and the things you and the people you love are doing are going to make a supernova, from which a new world can and will be born.

Now who’s read too many poetry books, says the angel.

The demon shrugs and points at me. I am the one writing them into a poem, so, fair.

You’re doing good, says the angel.

Keep giving them hell, the good kind, says the demon.

Love fiercely, love often, we are a love story and so are you, they say.

I smile. I say thank you.

And I ask the demon to stop gluing pennies to my shoulder.

This is a poem I wrote about queer angels and demons, what they and the show mean to me as a nonbinary, aroace person, and how media gets folded into who we are. It's weird and personal, the format is fucky. I just wanted to get it out there. cheers!

#good omens #crowley #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #queer #nonbinary #gender feels #aromantic #asexual #aroace #i write sometimes #poetry #weird poetry #seriously this one is weird #but that's the fun!#self indulgence!#ineffable husbands #ineffable partners

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eddiesdice666 · 2 years

Text

Everything and nothing (EddieXfemreader)

Category: Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of weed-cussing-flirting-almost a kiss-skipping class-mentions of anxiety-Sexual craving (No smut)

About: You've always had your eye on Eddie Munson, and unbenounced to you, he had his on you.

Hawkins High is a crowded school. So many faces decorate the hallways, consuming the eyes of tired students as they gloomingly walk to their next class. Underwhelming to most, they're just faces, so many to look at everyday. But, to you, they're masterpieces, permanently engraved into the walls of your brain to come back to and admire later.

Eddie is a loud and overwhelming soul. His face is one that you come back to quite often, you're very fond of it. The way his long curly hair frames his fetchers, his brown eyes like pools of chocolate, digging into yours from across the cafeteria. The tattoos on his forearms and left peck are always on your mind like they are on his skin, permanent. The rings on his fingers, silver and cold. You wonder what it's like to feel them against your skin, digging into your smooth flesh.

The hairs on your arms stand up at the thought. You blink a couple times before turning back to your paper, scratching down some notes that you'll never use. You're an average student, holding onto Cs for dear life. An art kid, and it shows on every worksheet you receive. The snakes and smiley faces that adorn the edges of your paper always bring a smile to your teachers' face. The chips of black nail polish fall on your paper like pencil shavings. You haphazardly brush them off, looking up and the clock, 11:35 twenty minutes.

His leg bounces up and down, twirling his pencil to the beat of Metallica running through his ears. The paper sitting in front of him has yet to be written on, sister to the ones neatly stacked in the top of his locker. Eddie has some sort of organized order to him, though you may not see it on the outside. His brain is like sheet music, chaotic, but it makes a beautiful song when you put it all together. He looks up at the clock, twenty minutes. 'Almost there' He thinks to himself.

Lunch, the one time in his day where he can actually get a good look at you. He knows you stare at him, he feels your eyes burning into the side of his face. He wants to go up and talk to you, but he's too nervous, he would never admit that tho. Eddie believes that you're from a heaven he doesn't believe in. You're radiant, a light that he can not put out no matter how hard he tried to. A magnetic field put there to suck him in, and it's slowly working.

The bell rings, both of you shoot out of your chairs and run out the door. He shoves his paper in his locker, jogging through the bodies of hungry teenagers and into the cafeteria. You run in shortly after him, Sitting at your spot across from the Hellfire table. You look up at him, making eye contact immediately. He looks away, face turning crimson as he smiles at his feet as a fight or flight response. You giggle, bringing his attention back up to you.

This is the most you two have interacted with one another, and it's making the loud and overwhelming soul of Eddie Munson, a bit soft. 'Should I go over there?' You think to yourself, he's thinking the same thing, but he comes up with his answer a bit quicker then you could come up with yours. He jumps up from his set and makes his way over to you, plopping down next to you, The smell of weed and guitar polish overrides your senses, making the butterflies explode in your stomach.

"Hey" He says, leaning against the table to get a better view of your features. You smile back, your shy demeanor stabbing him like a needle. "Hello" His grin brightens at the sound of your voice as he tries to think of something else to say. "You like to stare" Your face turns bright red, and you try to hide it in your hands, making him chuckle. "It's ok, I do too" You smile at him, regaining your composure, but the red never leaves your face as you look in his eyes.

"I've been wanting to talk to you for a while now" He startes off "But alas, you make me a little shy" You're taken aback by this statement "Eddie Munson? Shy?" You respond. He laughs a little, bringing a smile to your face "I know, I know. It's confusing me too" You two sit and keep conversation for the whole lunch period. You didn't expect him to be so gentle and kind with you, but you aren't complaining.

The bell rings, you both groan in annoyance at the abrupt ending to your time together "Wanna skip?" He asks 'skip? Should I?' You think to yourself. You bite your lip, breaking eye contact for a split second "sure" "Perfect" He grabs your hand, pulling himself and you from the table, making a beeline to the doorway and leading you out into the hallway.

The cool autumn air hits your face. You breathe it all in, missing its refreshing feeling. "Where will we go?" You ask, he looks back at you with a mischievous grin on his face, holding out his hand for you to take it again, "You'll see" Your heart starts beating quicker with excitement as he starts pulling you towards the running track.

The gravel crunches under your feet, kicking one of the bigger pebbles out of habit. Eddie copies you, kicking one in the general direction of where yours went. You squeeze his hand harder, wondering if it's normal to hold someone's hand this quickly and for this long after just meeting, but you go with it, enjoying the safe feeling that it gives you.

He walks you towards the edge of the forest, causing you to stop abruptly. "What's wrong?" He asks with a confused expression across his face. "What's in there? Why are we going in there?" You reply, starting to ramble "Hey hey" Eddie interjects, moving to face you and resting a calest palm on your cheek "Don't worry that beautiful brain of yours" You nod lightly, hoping that he can't hear your heartbeat getting faster "I wouldn't bring you here if I wasn't damn sure it was safe, ok?" You nod again, leaning into his hand ever so slightly.

Smiling down at you, he turns back to the forest, slowly leading you inside the wall of pine trees. About three hundred meters in, there's an opening of trees with an old wooden picnic bench in the middle. "See! Safe" He says looking down at you "Safe" You reply. Both of you walk over to the table, sitting down across from each other. "You're the only reason why I go to lunch" You say, breaking the comfortable silence.

He tilts his head to the side "Oh yeah?" You nod your head "I say this in the lowest form of creepy, but you're fascinating to watch" he doesn't say anything in return, so you keep going "I have a thing for faces. They tell me stories and I enjoy listening to them. It gives me something to think about, it calms me. Your face tells fascinating stories. They help me fall asleep, and they help me wake up"

Eddie just looks at you, confused and amused at your words. "I promise I'm not crazy" You say, covering your mouth to suppress the giggles coming out of it. He chuckles "We're all a little crazy, aren't we, Y/l/n?" You nod, blushing and looking down at your fingers, picking at your black nail polish. "Why don't you ever sit with anyone at lunch?" You look back up at him, your smile fades slightly. "I don't have any friends" You look back down at your hands timidly.

You moved here with your dad last year and havent found your spot in hawkings yet. You're a shy person, with some anxiety. Talking to people and taking the initiative is a struggle for you. Eddie understands how you're feeling. He's alway had a hard time connecting with people. He has a steady friend group now, but it was hard to pull it all together.

"Listen, I don't know what's drawing me to you. Maybe it's how beautiful you are, or maybe it's deeper than that. All I know is that I want to be your friend" He grabs your hands and holds them in the middle of the table. "Let me be your friend" You smile, nodding quickly. "Yes!" He says, pumping his fist into the air. Your laughter fills his ears, making him smile along with you.

"You aren't as scary as people put you out to be" He scoffs, "No, I'm horrifying" He replies, flipping his curly brown locks. "Absolutely terrifying" You play along "Disgusting" He leans in closer to you "Petrifying" You do the same, getting closer and closer with every playful insult.

Your noses are only millimeters apart now. You can feel his warm breath on your tender lips. He looks down at them, then back up into your eyes. Your lips part open just the slightest bit, enough to get the air that was just sucked from your lungs back into them. He gulps, you watch as his adam's apple bobs in his throat. "Nervous, Munson?" You accuse boldly. He moves in closer "No, but you are" He whispers. "You cocky bastard" "Oh you love it" You smile, looking down at your hands.

His pointer finger and thumb bring your gaze back up to his. "I love making you all flustered" He leans in further, you close your eyes, waiting for some sort of contact. He snickers, getting up from his seat "What the fuck" You say in disbelief. He laughs obnoxiously "Gotcha!" You cross your arms and glare at him "You wanted it tho!" you protest "I will not confirm, nor deny that accusation"

He leans over the table, looking down into your y/e/c eyes. "Just wait, my child" He says, putting a hand on your cheek "You'll get to taste the lips of Eddie Munson soon" You giggle "You're making it seem as though I'm desperate" "Are you not?" You bite your lip, trying to come up with a snarky response. You stand up, now at eye level with him "You wish, Munson" You lightly smack his left cheek twice, before getting up and running out of the clearing. A stunned and laughing Edding Munson running after you.

🂡🂢🂣🂤🂥🂦🂧🂨🂩🂪🂫🂬🂭🂮🂱🂲🂳🂴🂵🂶🂷🂸🂹🂺🂻🂼🂽🂾🃁🃂🃃🃄🃅🃆🃇🃈🃉🃊🃋🃌🃍🃎🃑🃒🃓🃔

A/n: Hello! I hope you enjoyed this! Ik it's kinda cheesy. they were moving a little fast, but it's whatever. Please request anything if you have something that you're interested in! I would really appreciate it (:

Okie! that's all I have. I hope you have a good day/night!

-Georgia <3

(Line creddit: @plumycake)

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader

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forbidding-souda · 2 years

Note

Ok hear me out: SDR2 boys with an s/o who is like the Ultimate Nail Artist, an they either a) do a nail look on themselves for their bf, or b) gives their bf a manicure. This would be AWESOME! ILYSM

SDR2 boys with a SHSL Nail Artist S/O

YES. yes. it's me i'm the nail artist s/o

i actually had acrylics a lot in hs but i decided to finally stop getting them because every time i did i just ripped them off each time. i'm like - addicted to ripping off acrylics like it feels so good and satisfying dni yes it tore my nail beds open but yes them shits recovered in months time.

these are shorter than my stuff usually is and i apologize i am struggling with thinking of specific non bullet point scenes to add.

-Mod Souda

Hajime Hinata

❤ I think he would be opposed to have his nails done at first. If he's still attending school then it would be a definite no - he doesn't want other people to see it. But if he's grown man with his own job and shit then he doesn't care that much about people seeing it - he's matured. I mean - nothing like acrylics of course. But maybe if you want to do stars on his nail beds or a light pink color then it would be fine. He loves it when you hold his hand for minutes on end. The whole hand touching is super his-type-of-affection.

"Don't you love it?" You ask, intertwining your fingers with him, something that catches him off guard - his nails are still drying!

"I do." His voice is a big more monotone than you intended it to be, but the kind words still make you smile. You glance at his nails once more (like you've done one million times in the last hour) before kissing each of his knuckles.

You chuckle. "So pretty, Hajime."

Your eyes meet his and you're surprised about how flustered he looks.

❤ He's powerless against you if you beg to paint his nails.

❤ If the two of you are still attending Hope's Peak and one of his classmates asks to see his painted nails he will say no and walk away all embarrassed.

❤ He likes looking at them all the time, though. He'll just stare down at his nails and get butterflies thinking about you.

Nagito Komaeda

❤ He slays. Whatever you want to practice on him, he'll allow it. He can get you touching up on his hands for hours at a time and he gets a cool nail thing out of it? Excellent. No con. Do you wanna give him acrylics? That's fine - any color and any shape and even length. He likes the coffin shaped ones the best. With him you mostly practice stiletto - even though you don't really need practice you still like to make sure you're still on top of your game.

❤ You can hear it - the click clack from even the other room. It makes you press your face into your hands. Maybe you shouldn't have given him acrylics.

❤ Despair Komaeda - I can imagine him bragging to Junko about having better nails than her lmfao.

❤ He clacks his acylics around and taps them against stuff LMFAO.

❤ Will just sit there wiggling his fingers and listening to the sound of his acrylics hitting each other.

❤ He stops wearing socks because they're such a bother to put on with the long nails.

❤ When he types on his phone it always makes him smile with amusement.

Teruteru Hanamura

❤ Can't do the nails. They'll stress him out too much work-wise. If it were his decision, he would love to have nails. He thinks they look so pretty and they're especially special coming from you. But he needs sanitary hands to be a cook, and he isn't too content with always having gloves in the workplace when that can easily be avoided anyway - he'd be worried about the nail polish chipping off. And if he had to choose acrylic shapes then he would have them be oval or almond - they'd match his finger shape. Even though he won't let you do the cool art, you can still give him a very subtle manicure just for nail health.

❤ You doing his nails means he gets to sit close to you.

❤ You find he really likes just looking at your face - which is mostly because he still can't believe somebody as beautiful (and talented) as you genuinely likes him.

❤ But literally like he does not stop looking directly at you and it gets a little uncomfortable once you actually notice.

Nekomaru Nidai

❤ Finds your art absolutely beautiful. When he's talking about you he always calls you an artist. Which, you are, but people always assume you're a painter or a musician. Nail art is the last thing that comes to their minds. But when he shows them pictures of all the collections you have - they see what he means. It is a masterpiece. Sometimes you wear these for yourself, to which he beckons you over so his teammates can see your glamour.

❤ He literally brags about you all the time like he is so prideful to be with you.

❤ He's never like "I chose a good one" but instead "a good one choose me".

❤ See the two of you are like a salon smh you do nails and he does massages.

❤ Ya'll can quid pro quo.

❤ And also Akane is going to be literally in love with you and think you are perfect for Nekomaru.

❤ She's going to force him to let you do his nails.

Kazuichi Souda

❤ He is hesitant to compliment it - but god does he think it's beautiful. Sometimes he gets in his own head about manliness and the 'proper' way to act. Even though there's no evidence to back it up, his mind convinces him that if he compliments your nails that you'll think he's too feminine, or think that he's being annoying. Throughout these bad thoughts, he still sits by your side and watches you do art. When it comes to customers, he's not very social, instead just nervously bouncing his knee while he stares down at their hands.

❤ You'll finally just offer him to sit in the client's chair and let you take a look at his nails.

❤ He's surprised at how with a quick glance you can immediately know what he does with his hands.

❤ ^ It's almost the same with how he works with cars - one long look and he can diagnose pretty easily.

❤ Once he gets used to having his nails painted (and realizing like no one cares other than him) then he'll like a touch up once a week, thank you.

❤ He takes care of his nails a lot better now that he's with you.

❤ Whenever he fucks up his nails on something mechanical he will get very sad.

❤ Souda has five letters and his hands have five fingers just saying.

Gundham Tanaka

❤ All your gloomy works are his favorite. He thinks of it as you spreading the occult. To him, all the colors you use have a more complex meaning - and the animals are symbolism of some kind. If the client wants pastel colors he try to convince you to paint some sort of thing like a rabbit on it to symbolize lust and sacrifices. His favorite art of yours is one of a graveyard with the moon in the air. It was so melancholic yet so beautiful - he almost wanted it on his own nails.

❤ He asks you every day to see the work that you did - he wants to see pictures so after ever job, you take a picture of the nails and save it in a folder of "Gundham hasn't seen these one yet."

❤ ^ When you show him I can imagine him being like "good... good.. yess... excellent."

❤ He won't personally want his nails to be painted all the time because he's worried the animals might accidentally ingest it.

❤ Wants to know if you'll do animal nails.

Twogami

❤ He likes that thing - it's individualistic. It makes you more special compared to everybody else, and he admires that about you: how unique you are. Everything you do is unique. Even each nail look - they never look the same. They're irreplaceable, just like you. You're so consistent with your ability yet so unpredictable, it's a security but also a thrill. He couldn't imagine choosing to be with anybody else other than you.

❤ I imagine he would not let you do his nails because it'll mess up his whole perception of the person who he's trying to be.

❤ But once he finally stops trying to pretend to be other people, he's going to allow himself to have that individuality.

❤ ^ Probably likes white tips. Or polka dots.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu

❤ Everything with stripes is his favorite. He loves the look of stripes no matter what color they are (but of course, his favorite color of stripes is white). Basing colors off of him is very easy, he likes wearing the same suit everyday, so when you come home with your nails matching his color scheme, he notices immediately. He takes your hands into his own and kisses your knuckles. He can be so affectionate when you flatter him enough.

❤ Takes no shit from other people if they to make fun of his nails. He will get Peko to beat the shit out of them.

❤ Also you and Peko can bond over you doing her nails! Fuyuhiko insists.

❤ Him and her can get matching nails.

❤ Omg imagine if his clan got a specific nail look to identity each other.

#fuyuhiko kuzuryu x reader #twogami x reader #gundham tanaka x reader #kazuichi soda x reader #nekomaru nidai x reader #teruteru hanamura x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #hajime hinata x reader #sdr2 #super danganronpa 2 #danganronpa

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hotforharrysheart · 2 years

Text

These Rings

His rings are in their special velvet box. All lined up. You flip the lid open and your fingers gently run over the top of them reverently. Goosebumps dot your skin at the thoughts these rings inspire. In your minds eye, you see him playing the guitar on stage, twisting them back into position when they move around on his fingers, the warmth of the metal on your skin, the way they look when he wears them when his fingers are buried deep inside you, or rubbing your clit. The fantasies you’d had about them before you’d gotten together push forward in your mind as your fingers move over them. You love them all, but the ones you love most are his initial rings. Before you can even process it, your fingers grab them and you shove them on your middle and ring fingers. You hold your hand up and look at your reflection in the mirror. Your hand drops to the dresser. They’re so heavy! How does he wear these all the time? You’re lost in your thoughts when he enters the room. You jump and immediately move your hand behind your back, hoping he doesn’t notice.

He smiles. “Whatcha doin', babe?"

“Nothing, really,” trying to sound casual.

But he's already seen you with the rings and comes to stand in front of you and place his hands on your wrists behind your back, his lips nearly touching yours. “Sure ya don' wanna tell me?"

You giggle, holding your hands tightly behind your back. “I’m sure.”

“Lemme see ya hands.”

You shake your head. “Nothing to see.”

“Sure ‘bout tha’?”

You nod, your heart pounding.

“Fine. Gimme ya hands then."

“No, thank you,” you reply, running to the bed and crawling under the duvet.

"Hmmm…’m sure I left my rings righ’ here…”

“Think you left them downstairs!”

“Ya sure?”

“Ummm, yeah, pretty sure,” you say, thinking of how you can get downstairs without him noticing.

He comes to the bed and throws the duvet off of you. “Baby, show me ya hands."

"No.”

“Why no’?”

“Cuz.”

“Cuz why?”

Pulling at your hand he says, “Lemme see.”

You huff out a sigh and pull your hand from behind your back, holding it up so he can see his rings. “Ok - there! Happy now?!”

He smirks. “Look good on ya tiny fingers, baby.”

“Ya think?" You ask, moving to sit up against the headboard.

He nods.

“I'm sorry. Just wanted to try them on. Should’ve asked first.”

He moves to sit between your legs, his back against your chest, and pulls your hand in between his hands, fingers running over yours. “‘S ok - I like seein’ them on ya hand.”

“Really?"

“Yeah,” he says, hand to hand comparing fingers.

“They're so heavy. Don't know how you wear them all day.”

“‘M used to ‘em now. They actually calm me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, the weight of ‘em kinda grounds me.”

Your tummy flutters.

He holds your hand flat between his and you kiss his temple.

“Sorry I was trying them on.”

“Please, don' be sorry. I don’ mind.”

You kiss his neck and he gets a chill down his spine.

“Why don't ya wear’em for tha day.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I really just wanna stay here in bed with you.”

“Ok, so wear ‘em here in bed wi’ me,” he says, smirking. “Bu’ take everythin’ else off.”

Your breath catches and you blush. “Is that the rule? Wear your rings but no clothes?”

“It is now.” He turns over between your legs and works his way down your body.

You're running your ringed fingers through his hair. He rucks up your T shirt and you move to take it off.

“My rings look s’good on your fingers. Touch ya tits fo’ me, babe.”

You both watch you circle your nipples with his rings on your fingers.

“Think they'd look good wrapped around your cock?"

“Dunno. Wanna see though.”

“Turn over.”

He rolls onto his back and you take his T shirt off and work your way down his body - Kissing, licking nibbling.

“Help me with these jeans, H,” you tell him, your hand with his rings scratching down his chest.

“Aww, you nail polish is chipped babe.”

You sigh. “Yeah, I know. I think I bit the polish off.”

“Why would ya do tha’?”

“Was nervous last night.”

“Silly girl. We can redo it later.”

You blush. “Ok. Finish taking these jeans off for me.”

He hurriedly pushes his jeans down and off. “Fuckin' hell ya hands are cold!”

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. You rub your hands on your legs to warm them up. You pull his boxers down just enough to release his cock and it slaps back against his tummy. “So hard, Harry.”

“All for you, love.”

“Wanna taste you,” you breathe out, wrapping your hand round his shaft, you put it to your bottom lip, maintaining eye contact. “Mmmm..taste good, H.” Your saliva drips down onto the Signet rings as you hold him deep in your mouth.

“Oh fuck,” he says, back arching off the bed. “Jesus, love.” The visual of your hand with his rings on moving up and down his shaft is doing him in.

You reach with the other hand to hold his balls and moan around his cock. You pop off, your hand moving up and down. “Mmmm…so hard, Harry.” You take him in your mouth again and move faster on his dick. “Come on, baby. Please, cum for me. I wanna taste all of you.”

His hands are fisting the sheets. “Gonna cum, baby. Ungh...Cumming!” Head thrown back, veins in his neck straining, body stiff and holding still, mouth pulled wide.

You swallow, and swallow, licking your lips as you pop off of him.

“Jesus baby…ya ok? Didn’t halfta do tha’.”

“Wanted to,” you say, finger circling his nipple. He runs his hand down his face. “Never. Ever. Felt. Like. That.”

“Did I do good? He sits up and pulls you to him. “Best head I've ever gotten.”

“That’s quite a compliment.” You grin. “It’s these rings.”

He kisses you. “It's this mouth, love.”

#these rings #harry smut #harry styles smut #original content #harry styles fanfiction #friends to lovers

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spxllcxstxr · 3 years

Text

Always With Me • R.L

Summary: “Please don’t go.” (Bolded)

Warnings: Mentions of food/eating/not being able to eat, brief mention of vomit, Remus is very close to the full moon so he’s snippy, underage smoking, yelling, Remus is insecure and hard on himself, depressing thoughts

Word Count: ~1k

A.N: I actually wrote this like a year ago, but I’ve recently tweaked it and all that. Listened to Tiny Dancer by Elton John while thinking up the title. I guess this is my first angst post too, so I hope it’s angsty enough! Some characters may be a bit ooc though

Title: Elton John - Tiny Dancer

****

The week of the full moon takes a lot out of Remus, especially when added to the increasing amount of assignments the professors start handing out. The stress practically kills him.

He’s stuck in bed three days before the full moon, and will likely stay there until after the transformation.

Remus looks sickly, laying in his bed. His skin is pale and dotted with sweat like he’s got a fever. The numerous scars that litter his body look rougher and inflamed. His hair looks like it’s thinned overnight, and you can see strands scattered over his pillow. It’s wirey and delicate to the touch when you run your fingers through it.

“You need to eat, darling.” You mutter, trying to convince him.

The plate of plain toast and orange slices you brought up from the Kitchens sits untouched on his nightstand.

“Love, I won’t be able to hold it down.” He croaks, lighting a cigarette with trembling hands.

“Well you can’t just starve yourself for three more days, Rem.” You lecture, watching him puff out rings of smoke.

“You think I don’t fucking know that? I just don’t feel like vomiting it all up!” Remus snaps, ripping his gaze from you, deciding to focus on the ceiling instead.

The bags underneath his eyes are heavier and darker than usual.

You sigh and lay down next to him, resting your head on his chest. “I’m sorry, Rem. You know I just worry.”

The thumping of his heart is dull and every breath comes out in a labored wheeze.

“I’ll try to eat later, ok?” He murmurs eventually, still focusing on the thin wisps of smoke.

You hum in response and rub your thumb across his chest, partially trying to ease his anxiety and partially to ease yours.

“Don’t you have class?” Remus questions.

“Don’t you?” You counter.

He huffs out a faint laugh. “Don’t get smart with me, love.”

You bury your cheek deeper into his shirt.

“I’m fine missing one Arithmancy class, darling. Especially for you.” You shrug.

Remus grunts in response, snubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray beside him. The movement has his bones creaking, and his teeth grinding together in pain.

You kiss his cheek. “Try to get some sleep, alright?”

He nods, his eyes already closing due to pure exhaustion.

You stay with him until the end of the period, but you do have to go to class eventually. You write him a note and make your way to Potions.

Lily catches up to you on your way to the dungeons.

“(Y/n)!” She calls, her fiery braid flowing behind her.

You slow to a stop and let her catch up to you.

“How was Arithmancy?” You ask.

“Just some more number charts. I’ll lend you my notes.” She shrugs.

“Thank Merlin for you, Lils. You’re a life saver.”

Lily finally grabs your arm and drags you into an empty classroom. She closes the door behind you.

“Lily, what’s up—?”

“What’s up with Remus?” She cuts you off. Her green eyes search your eyes for answers.

“What‘re you talking about?” You scoff, nervously. Your fingers twitch out of habit.

“Cut the shit, (Y/n). I’ve noticed it for years now.” Lily crosses her arms in annoyance. “He’s my friend too. You think I haven’t noticed how sick he gets, especially during the full moon? And how all of you disappear in the middle of the night?”

“Lily—“

“How stupid do you think I am?”

“You’re not stupid—“

“Is he a werewolf?” She whispers harshly.

You pause and bite your lip. You could just deny it, but she’s already completely figured it out. You start wringing your hands, wishing you could take out a cigarette right there in the middle of the castle.

“It isn’t my place to say.” You finally sigh, dodging the question.

“It’s a yes or no question.” She argues.

“It’s not!” You exclaim. You then get close enough to whisper in her ear. “Ask him about it next week, yeah?”

Her green eyes are wide and staring at you when you finally pull back.

You swallow harshly, guilt pooling at the bottom of your stomach.

“Let’s drop it and get to Sluggy’s class.” You walk out of the empty classroom, and walk briskly to the potions room.

You stomp up to the boys dorm after Ancient Runes, your last class of the day. The rest of them are already in their room, James, Sirius, and Peter already back from Divination, and Remus not moving from the morning. At least the orange slices are gone. However, that doesn’t mean he kept them down.

“Lily knows.” You announce, dropping your bag at the end of Remus’ bed and taking out a cigarette.

Sirius, who already has one lit, snaps his head towards you. “Lily knows a lot of things, so you gotta be a little more specific.”

“She knows about Moony’s furry little problem.” You clarify, biting your lip.

“She what?!” Remus cries, finally sitting up against the headboard.

“I didn’t tell her, Remus. She figured it out herself and asked me about it!” You hold your hands up in surrender.

“Well shit, (Y/n). What’d you say?” Peter asks, picking at his blanket.

��I just told her to ask him about it next week.” You mutter, anxiously awaiting Remus to explode out of anger.

“Oh that’s just bloody brilliant, innit?” Your boyfriend spats at you, teeth clenched.

“Hey! Don’t yell at her, it’s not her fault!” James shouts, coming to your defense.

“Moony, she was bound to find out eventually, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Sirius comments, picking at his black nail polish, successfully chipping the paint.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“No.” You reply, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Yes.” Sirius says at the same time, effectively provoking it.

“Lily can report me and spread this, don’t you understand?” Remus rages, the tips of his ears red.

“Lily wouldn’t do that, you know this Remus.” James tries to reason.

“I think you’re a little biased, Prongs. She was bloody friends with Snivellus! Anything could happen!”

“Well she isn’t friends with him anymore, Moons. Lily is trustworthy and a good friend. She wouldn’t tell a soul.” James argues.

Remus growls and forcefully closes the curtains around his bed, shutting you all out.

You shift awkwardly on the balls of your feet, the four of you watching the scarlet curtains sway. Remus is silent behind them.

The guilt has your stomach in knots. You can’t help but feel responsible.

“C’mon, (Y/n), it’s time for dinner and obviously Moony wants to be left alone.” James anxiously runs a hand through his already chaotic hair, slightly tugging at the dark curls.

You wordlessly nod your head and start to follow them out the door.

“W-we’ll bring something up from the Kitchens, Remus.” Peter stutters in front of you.

However, you hesitate at the threshold, reluctant to just up and leave your boyfriend in such a vulnerable state.

“Please don’t go.”

The broken words are almost too faint to actually hear.

You creep your way back to his bed, carefully pulling back the curtains revealing your boyfriend’s head buried in his hands. You notice the pronounced tremors taking over his hands.

“Hey...hey Rem, it’s all alright.” You murmur, lightly dragging a hand through his rough hair.

Dropping your head down to his, you press your foreheads together, whispering reassurances and declarations of love into his ear.

#Remus Lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin angst #the marauders x reader #the marauders

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when-i-was-your-angel · 3 years

Text

Good? Good.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 550

Warnings: Vague parental abuse, panic attack, nightmare

Summary: Spencer helps reader through a panic attack brought on by a nightmare.

My hands shook as my dad yelled at me. Told me how horrible I was. How awful a daughter. Tears brimmed my eyes and my shoulders caved in on themselves. Anger flooded every crevice of my body and brain but I couldn't do anything. Couldn't say anything. My mouth was duct-taped shut and I was locked into a straight jacket. He wouldn't stop yelling.

Yelling.

“Y/N, hey, hey, wake up. It's ok, I'm here. You're safe now, it's ok. I got you.” A small voice was talking to me from above my head somewhere. I opened my eyes and realized the “straight jacket” was actually somebody’s arms. I pushed this person off of me and looked up.

“Sp- Spencer? What- where was I? What's going on?” My eyes were scanning his face and the room around us.

“Your name is Y/N Y/L/N. You're in our apartment in Quantico, Virginia. You're twenty-three years old. You are safe.” Spencer was rubbing his hands up and down my arms in an attempt to calm me down. It wasn't working.

My heart sped up and my breathing got shallower. I could feel my hands shaking.

“Spence- I can't- I can't brea-” I sat up in bed and clutched my hands to my chest. I was wheezing now.

“Hey, do you remember what we practiced? What we worked on? Grounding, yeah?” Spencer was sitting in front of me with his hands on my knees. I nodded.

“Good, good. Ok, we’re going to start with sight. Think of three things you can see, alright? Just three things.” Spencer nodded encouragingly.

Three things I can see.

Spencer’s night shirt had a hole near the collar. I had fixed it for him a few weeks back. He must not have washed it on delicate like I told him to.

The ceiling was bumpy. Cheap apartment meant popcorn ceiling.

My fingernail polish was beginning to chip. I painted my nails last weekend. Spencer and I watched all of Sherlock while I painted my nails navy blue.

“Did you get three?” Spencer asked.

I nodded in response. My breathing was still erratic.

“Good. Two things you can hear next. You can do it.” Spencer’s hands were still on my knees. Patiently waiting out the storm.

Two things I can hear.

My heartbeat is clouding every sound in the room. So loud. So, so loud. Ba boom. Ba boom. Ba boom. Everything else is small compared to the explosion of every heartbeat.

Faintly through the noise- Spencer’s breathing. In and out. He always makes a show of how he's breathing when I have an episode. In and out. In and out.

“You hear my breathing?” Spence was trying so hard to calm me down. It wasn't working.

“No. My- my heart. Too loud. Too fuck- too fucking loud.” My cheeks felt cold. When had I started crying?

“That's ok.” Spencer took my hands in his and pressed them against his chest. Right over his heart. “Feel mine. Try to match my breathing, Y/N.”

In.

Hold.

Out.

Hold.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Hold.

My breathing synced with his. My heartbeat slowly faded away from my ears.

I made eye contact with Spencer.

“Good?” His eyes searched mine for any sign of injury. Physical or otherwise.

“Good.”

#spender reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you

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the-fifth-lunatic · 2 years

Text

I love hands.

I love the way you can see a person through them. How small hands seem to be in the grand scheme of our bodies, but how much information they can tell about a person. How beautiful they are. How large they are, how small they are. How long someone’s fingers are. What color they are. If their skin is smooth or dry or cracked or wrinkled. The veins showing through. The freckles and the liver spots. The hair or lack of it. If they have calluses and where. The little writing callus I have on the wrong finger, the ones musicians have that look so painful, the ones that make a hand rough everywhere and you know the person has not had an easy life. And the little details people accidentally display. When there is writing on their hand, reminding themselves to do something later. Different colored notes on different days. I could fall in love with a few words on their skin. The nail polish, or lack of it. If it’s chipped or if they replenish the polish relentlessly. Hangnails and cuts and scrapes. Scars and burns, ink stains and doodles. Dirt under the nails. Whether they are cut short or not. I could fall in love with a person through their hands. And the things they adorn their hands with. Wedding rings and bracelets. Fancy and shiny or sentimental and plastic with fraying yarn at the ends. Rings too big, covered in tape to make them fit. So many rings you hear a click click click every time they move their hands.

I love the way hands move. When a person gets excited and you can see it in how fast they move their hands. How they articulate their thoughts through their hands. How fast or how slow, reckless or gentle, soft or hard. The ways that some hands can bend while others cannot. The tremors that people try to ignore but I see anyways. I could fall in love with the things people try to hide. I could fall in love with the way people do things after they have done them a million times. A ritual. The speed at which they do them, inhuman, or the care they show, immeasurable. I could fall in love with the way hands move when someone is trying something for the first time. The clumsiness and the unsure air about them. The hesitancy and being afraid to make a mistake. And sign language, what a beautiful language. I could watch it for hours, though I know but a few words of it. The relentless beauty of movement, of the swaying a diving of hands and fingers, sharp angles and smooth curves. Beautiful people with their beautiful hands.

I love the way hands feel in my own. How soft or how rough. How small and frail they feel next to mine, or how large and encompassing. How cold and broken, or warm, nearly burning at the touch. When I shake their hands, are they firm or hesitant? The way a touch can mean so many things: a fist bump, a handshake, an expression of love, a connection. The way they hold my own hands, gentle and caring, lovingly aggressive. The urgency with which they hold on, desperately needing something to anchor themselves. The way holding on to your hand inevitably leads to a hug, this broken way of pressing our bodies together that leaves my soul weeping every time it happens. The need to feel you more. The need to grasp on to your hands and never let go. To be buried in the grave and still be reaching out for you.

Oh, what I would give to hold your hands forever.

Note: hi everyone! I decided to get tumblr today, as if there wasn't enough chaos already in my life, and so this is my first post. I'll probably add more about me in my description later, but I just wanted to share some of my writing to start off. Once I get going, I'm planning on doing writing prompts, book/movie/song reviews, and a bunch of other writing-related things. Ok bye, have a nice day!

#my writing #writers on tumblr #writers #poets on tumblr #poetry #holding hands #little things #hands #beautiful #writing #thoughts #journal #life

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