#This is entirely more information than you asked for.

[aliteralsemicolon]

Malicious Compliance - 18+

Spencer’s job has been hogging more of his time than usual, leaving you neglected, frustrated and bratty. He makes up for it by ever-so-kindly giving you exactly what you asked for.

Spencer Reid X AFAB! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story is NSFW. It contains strong themes and detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact! You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNING: Smut, penetration, PinV, word porn, no mention of protection/unprotected sex, use of pet names, BDSM elements (details in spoilers), basically just straight up word p0rn with almost no artistic licence and a sprinkle of fluff. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 7.2K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Do people ever get so pent up that everything their partner does becomes provocative? Their mind begins looking for any signs to give their body a reason for release, even if those signs are entirely made-up. And every time they’re denied that release, the desire that previously coursed through their veins becomes frustration. 

It fills them until there’s no room left for it inside of them, pushing their limits, like water pressure challenging the confinement of a pipe. Eventually the pressure becomes too much for the pipe to handle. Just a little bit more pressure and that pipe inevitably bursts. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been more frustrated in your life. Maybe it’s an exaggeration but sitting here, barely two feet away from your boyfriend, watching him flip through his work files might be the last amount of pressure you can handle before your pipe bursts.  

Even if you somehow manage to compose yourself, you know you’ll burst not long from now. You can’t really blame yourself. It’s been almost two full weeks since you’ve had any sort of release. Scratch that, it’s been almost two full weeks since Spencer’s even properly acknowledged your presence. 

You haven’t even bothered to try and hide your shameless ogling. Not once has he looked up in your direction. So you continue to stare at the way his fingers slide down every page as his mind absorbs the information, turning the page before you even blink. 

They move so elegantly. You trace the veins on his hands with your eyes. They’d look so nice wrapped around your thro - Lord, you can’t do this. Taking a deep breath, you decide it’s time to alert him of your presence. 

“Spence?” Not mentioning that your presence has been lingering for almost half an hour. No response. How oblivious does he have to be? “Spencer?” 

“Hm?” Even when you finally get a response, it’s barely a half-hearted one. Not even a glance up. 

“You wanna take a small break? You’ve been going through that same file for ages now.” You attempt to fuel a conversation anyway. 

“Can’t.” 

You want to be upset, you really do, but your eyes are locked in on his fingers working that damn paper. Your mind wanders to all the times they slid along your thighs, just like that. Knees squeezing against each other to try and suppress the electric jolt that just ran up in between your thighs. 

“Do you want me to order you some food?” You try to distract yourself from your current predicament, by focusing on your boyfriend’s well-being instead. 

“No thank you. Just order for yourself.”  There was really no point in trying when Spencer entered this headspace, it was almost impossible to get him out of it. 

“I’m going out tonight, remember? Going clubbing with my friends?” Was he really so focused that he wasn’t even aware of your plans? Plans that you made infront of him this morning, by the way. 

“That’s great Honey.” 

Yes, you suppose he really was. 

This was basically another rejection in a long list of rejections from the past two weeks. You doubt that he was even aware. That desire surging through you just a second ago morphed to frustration once again. In an attempt to let it be known, you blow out an annoyed huff as you get up from your seat. 

No response.

The problem wasn’t that he was busy because of his job. You knew his job, you completely understood when he had to leave home at bizarre times. The problem was that he had been bringing his job home with him. It was hard enough to have his attention when he was actually at work, now you had to fight for it in your own home? 

You make your way around the couch and sneak up on him from behind, resting your arms on his shoulders. Starting from the top of his head, you begin planting small kisses down his face until you reach his ear. 

“Spence, c’mon you’ve been doing this for hours.” He leans back towards you, bringing the file with him, but keeping his eyes - and fingers - on that file. Seriously? 

“Honey, I really can’t right now. You should start getting ready now for your plans.” Wow so he was aware. You should be elated, those were the most words you’d gotten out of him all week. 

A dazed exhale escaped him when you nibbled on his ear. His head rolled back, giving you room to keep kissing down his neck. He slightly turns his head towards you and his hand captures your jaw in a light grip. It pulls you away from him, his voice calls out your name in a stern tone. 

“Stop that, I said I’m busy. Go get ready.” His eyes remain on the page the whole time. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You think. Your eyes roll on their own volition at the same time as you start to walk away. 

“I saw that.” He warns. 

“So do something about it.” You scoff in annoyance. 

You’re actually hopeful that maybe he will do something about it. You remained hopeful for almost an hour while you got ready. Your hair gorgeously styled, seductive makeup enhancing your best features and now as you browse through your closet for a suitable dress to wear, there’s still no Spencer in sight. 

You find a dress and make your way towards the dresser to see if it completes the look. You press the hanger against your shoulders, scanning from your neck-line down to your legs and unintentionally look towards your underwear drawer. 

Just a few weeks ago, you were out shopping and were innocently asking for his opinion on a new set of lingerie you liked. When you hopped out of the dressing room to show him he didn’t even stop to look at it before he hauled your ass right back behind the curtain and re-dressed you himself. 

Spencer may be the sweetest man alive, there’s no doubt about that, but most people don’t know that he’s possessive as hell. An idea pops into your head when you recall that he still hasn’t properly seen the under-wear. 

You dig out the brand new set and take a second to admire how well it compliments your assets. You put the dress on over the lingerie and have to admit, you look really good. Anybody with half a brain could tell what you were wearing under the dress. Spencer would never let you leave the house like this, but he’d have to look at you first if he wants to stop you. 

It’d be a shame if Spencer didn’t bother to pry his eyes away from his file so he could stop you. What would he do if he realised you’d been dancing around all night in nothing but a tiny dress that barely covers the promiscuous cloth under it? Not to mention the attached stockings it’s entirely unable to hide. 

He’d spank you red, that’s what he’d do. 

Either way, you’re going to get laid tonight. You get closer to the mirror by leaning into the dresser and spritz a few drops of your signature perfume around your pulse points. There’s still plenty of time left before you actually have to leave, but if you stay any longer you’re going to go insane watching Spencer use his fingers on anything other than yourself. You just need to get your keys from the kitchen counter, put on your shoes and you’re ready to go. 

“I’m leaving now.” You yell out to Spencer. You don’t even have to look at him to know that he’s still sitting where you left him. 

And yet again, no response. “How many files does he have in that satchel?” You wonder. 

You reach for the keys on the counter and just as you grab them, Spencer’s hands surprise you by grabbing your waist. You almost squeal at the sudden contact. “Where do you think you’re going, hm?” His arms cross around your waist. 

“Oh so you do remember I exist?” You snark, trying to play it cool. 

You can’t let him have the upper hand just because he’s finally paying attention. He snakes a hand down to your thighs and lifts your dress up slightly, his body pushing against yours. He doesn’t even bother to comment on the jab you took at him. 

“You still can’t respond properly.” You try for a response again. 

Before you can comprehend his movements he’s stepped back and swung you around, his hands pressing on your hips, pushing your ass against the counter. He drinks in the sight in front of him as his eyes travel down your figure and back up, meeting yours. His tongue darts out and swipes across his lips, in true Spencer fashion. He lifts you up to sit on the counter as he steps in between your legs, closing the distance between you. 

“Let me rephrase,” there’s a fire behind his eyes when he speaks, tone levelled, finger creeping inside the stocking’s band. He pulls it away from your skin when he speaks,

“where do you think you’re going…” 

and lets it go

 “...wearing this?” 

The elastic slaps your thigh and adds to the emphasises of his last word. The close proximity, his lingering scent, voice, touch - your core was beginning to light up. It was dumb to think that you could keep the upper hand. Spencer had complete power over you and he knew that. 

“I asked you a question.” 

You were still going to try and challenge him, despite knowing better than to keep him waiting. It’s only fair, considering how long he made you wait. And how it took you acting out to make him notice you. 

“The club, silly. With my friends. You keep forgetting.” You coyly answer, wrapping your arms around him as you lean in. 

He raises both his brows in amusement and maintains eye contact, keeping his voice low and gentle. 

“I haven’t forgotten. I just wonder why you want everybody else there ogling you. Don’t even try to deny it. It would only take a few drinks before you start stumbling on your ass, displaying yourself for anyone who wants a peak.” His grip on your thigh tightens. 

Spencer didn’t actually care about what you wore, as long as he was the only one who saw what was underneath it. Your current attire went against that.

It took everything in you to not crash your lips on him right then. You wanted to feel him so bad but you couldn’t, not just yet. You pull out your most doe-eyed pout, eye contact still in place.

 “If I can’t get my own boyfriend to pay attention to me then I’m going to have to get that attention from somewhere else.” An empty threat, you both knew that. Nobody else's attention mattered to you. 

“Have I really neglected you so much?” He swallowed, not even blinking as he stared back. 

Maybe you’ve been reading the signals wrong. You expected anger or annoyance, but the man in front of you looks almost…apologetic? You lean your head back slightly so you can read his face better. His expression is entirely apologetic, causing you to soften your features as well. 

“Spencer I didn’t mean-” 

“I know you didn’t.” He cuts in before you can finish. “I’m asking if I’ve been too neglectful.” 

His hands roam from your thighs to your waist from under your dress, his fingers massaging you. You can’t pick up on his mood. He leans in and kisses your cheek. 

“I’ve been ignoring you. I’m sorry” He reaches for your forehead and gives you a kiss there too, before coming back down to your other cheek. “Let me make it up to you.” 

You expected him to punish you for acting up, his soft demeanour was throwing you off entirely. 

“Spence, it’s okay. You can finish your work. I have to leave soon anyways.” You lied, unsure of how to act.

“No you don’t. Even if you leave an hour from now, you’ll still make it on time.” He moves to your jaw, leaving a kiss there. You melt at his tender touch. “Let me make it up to you. Anything you want, just ask.” He insists.

You wanted to resist, to reassure him, to make him feel less guilty. It had just been so long and your head was getting so cloudy. His lips felt so, so good against your skin. 

“Ask.” He whispers, his voice so painfully sweet. 

Your hand runs through his hair, the other one dragging along his back lightly. He pushes his clothed, but clearly hard, length against you and a soft whimper finds its way out of you. He was clearly just as turned on as you were. 

“Please fuck me Spencer. Make me cum. Please.” 

He pulls your dress over your head and throws it somewhere on the floor, leaving you only in your lingerie and returns to your neck. The grip in his hair becomes slightly tighter as you grind against him. He takes this as permission, grabbing you by your legs to pull you as close to him as possible and takes you in a deep, hungry kiss. Another whimper leaves you, travelling from your mouth into his. 

He glides his tongue against yours, arms tightly hugging your waist. You’re both heated, panting heavily as you kiss, grinding against one another. Before things go any further, he pulls away. 

“You wanna cum?” He glides his hands all the way up your torso, cupping your jaw in his hands. 

“Mhm,” You nod, cupping his wrists “Please.” 

He gives you a clumsy peck. 

“I can help you do that. Let’s get you to bed. I’ll make you come. Would you like that, Princess?” His voice sounds so raspy, he’s almost whispering. 

You don’t entirely trust his sweet demeanour, he’s never this nice when you’ve broken as many rules as you have. But fuuuckkk. You were so turned on right now and he looks so beautiful. 

“Yes please!” You enthusiastically bounce off the counter, kissing him as you start to walk backwards. He doesn’t let the kiss fully break, walking with you, your hands feeling whatever part of each other they could. 

You manage to find your way to the bedroom with some minor collisions against furniture, giggling every time. Your motions come to a halt when you reach the edge of the bed, the kiss deepens again. 

Your hands start fumbling with his shirt and he works his belt, functioning as quickly as you can to get him undressed. His boxers slide off and you can’t help but break the kiss again to gawk at his shaft. Fucking hell, you’d seen it so many times and it’s still just as pretty. He kisses your forehead and chuckles. 

“Like what you see, Princess?”

You smile, biting your lip in response but not taking your eyes off his length. He lifts your head back up by hooking his finger under your chin to meet his gaze and he returns to your kiss. You reach around your back to unclasp your bra and he grabs it in the middle, pushing you down on the bed gently. 

The mattress catches you, but your bra is ripped away in his grasp. Spencer remains standing over you, eyeing your figure beneath him as he discards the laced bra on the floor.

“Well Handsome, you gonna join me or what?” 

This earns you another chuckle as he leans down towards you, the mattress dipping from his weight. You shuffle back on the bed together, sharing another passionate kiss on the way. Both of you refuse to break away until you finally reach a place you mutually decide is comfortable. 

Or at least, til Spencer decided it was comfortable enough and yanked you towards him until both your cores were completely pressed against together. 

The only thing restricting complete contact was a flimsy piece of fabric and it was barely enough, judging by the needy whine that you let out when the underside of his cock brushed against your heat. 

“So wet. So pretty.” Spencer groaned, kissing his way down your neck again. 

His hands freely roam up your body again, stopping to cup and knead your breasts. He takes his time using his mouth, sucking on the flesh as he makes his way down from your collarbones to my sternum. 

This must be your punishment. You’ll have to leave the house covered with his markings on your skin, warning anyone else who even thinks about touching you, that you belong to him. 

“Fuck, Spencer.” You breathe out in desperation and grind your hips against him, earning you a gravelly moan. Your hands come off the bed and back into his hair, trapping him against you without applying pressure so that he can move about as he pleases. . 

When he’s satisfied with the bruises he’s stained you with, he licks a path from your sternum to your left tit, leaving his hand to continue playing with your right one. He sucks, nibbles, kisses and licks your nipple all while pinching and rolling the other one between his fingers. 

“Spence, please!” You gasp, unable to control your hips. 

“Mmm, my needy little whore.” He mumbles and begins a trail of kisses back down your torso, stopping just above your mound, but abandoning the region altogether as he diverts his path to your thigh instead. You whine at his delay to satiate the fire that he ignited. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” he coos “patience Princess.” 

You whine harder and he pinches your nipple, earning him a yelp.

He continues his motions up your thigh, kissing all the way to your knee before switching legs and trailing back down from your knee to your thigh. Every kiss sends electricity through your core, hands still in his hair, following his head wherever it moves. 

“As much as I love you, if you don’t stop teasing me I’m going to fucking lose it.” You interrupt his foreplay, deciding that he had done enough priming. 

He lets out a breathy chuckle, and it sends chills through your spine. Your body jerks up in reaction and he takes this opportunity to slide off your panties, leaving you bare, save for your stockings. 

Cold air hits your heat and before you have the time to adjust to the feeling, he runs his tongue up your slit, flattening it entirely to cover as much surface area as possible. A loud, rippled moan emerges out of you, arch intensifying. Your hands tighten the grip on his hair automatically. 

“Fuuuccckkkk.” is all you can muster in that moment, your brain short-circuiting. 

Spencer focuses the tip of his tongue at the edge of your entrance, sampling the taste of your arousal before fully dipping in. His arms hold your legs apart in place and he sneaks his thumb to your clit.

You feel euphoric, you could float away. The feeling of his tongue pushing in and out of you was enough to leave you grabbing at his shoulders, digging your nails in slightly. Your hips started rocking against his face, Spencer had to physically hold them down as he shifted his mouth's attention from your entrance to your clit. 

“Hold still,” he ordered in the most gentle tone, the vibrations from his voice causing goosebumps, “you’re doing so well, Sweet Girl.” 

You squeaked when you felt his mouth circle around your bud, sucking gently. As he worked you with his tongue, You felt him enter a finger inside you. His name rolled off your tongue in a sigh, your hand back in his hair pulling slightly and causing him to erotically groan. 

The sounds coming from between your legs were so sinful and lewd, only amplifying when he added a second finger. His pace increased with the addition, fingers curling slightly while he pumped. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, vocabulary reduced to filthy swears and moans. You could feel my orgasm pending below my abdomen. Spencer didn’t slow down, even when you tried to buck away from his touch. 

He was persistent in following you, his head moving wherever you tried to escape to. When he felt that he couldn’t keep up, he held you down by applying the entire pressure of his forearm against your pelvis. 

“Spencer, Spencer, Spencer!” Each repetition got louder, you didn’t know what you were trying to say. He only sucked harder at your cries. 

“So, so, so, so, clo - mmmh” Was all you could manage to say, your head lolling back into the bed. 

“So good for me.” He uttered, making your thighs squeeze around his head. Spencer knew just what to say to get you to the edge. Your senses began to cloud in ecstasy, you were on the brink of your orgasm. 

His slender fingers were working you from the inside, his skilled tongue was working you from the outside, you could barely keep your breathing in order. Your walls started clenching around the intrusion, your legs dug into the mattress, one hand pulling on his curls and the other hand digging into his forearm holding you down. 

You were just on the verge of cumming when Spencer pulled out his fingers and stopped his motions. The whine you let out was visceral. 

“What the fuck?” It was a genuine question. 

The only response he gave was a puppy eyed stare, so full of adoration as he trailed his way back up to you with more tender kisses. You propped yourself on your elbows, trying to read into his expression. 

You were so confused. Were you being punished?

He must’ve picked up on your thoughts because he skipped over your chest entirely to whisper in your ear. 

“I’m sorry Princess.” He pecks your cheek, dragging his lips across your face to your lips. 

You return the kiss, but don’t hesitate to question his motives once you’re finally able to find your words. 

“Why’d you stop?” Tone pathetically whiney. 

He kisses you again, stronger this time as he rests his fingers under your chin. 

“I want to fuck you.” 

He turns your head slightly to the side so he can whisper in your ear again. 

“I want to fuck you until cum on my cock. Is that something you want me to do Princess?” 

His voice sounded like he was whispering sweet affirmations, but his words were so filthy. The contrast had you clenching around nothing. Spencer loved hearing you confirm how bad you wanted him.

“Princess?” He turns your face to him again, so he can look into your eyes. “I asked you something.” 

The eye contact feels so intense, it causes your breath to hitch a little. 

“Yes.” 

He moves in just a little closer, lips grazing. 

“Yes?” He was testing you. 

You should be grateful he was only testing you instead of tying you up and edging you all night for being a brat. That was still a possibility and you really don’t have the patience to wait anymore. You knew exactly what you had to say. 

“Yes, please! I want to you to fuck me until I cum on your cock.” 

That was all it took for his lips to come crashing down on yours. This kiss felt different to all the others tonight.

Almost like it held a hidden meaning. 

He hooked his arms around your thighs and wrapped you around his waist. Neither of you pulls away, until you both gasp into each other’s mouths as he finally enters you. 

He fills you up slowly, until there’s no more of him left to give and your arms instinctively drape against his shoulders. The second your bodies adjust comfortably, he pulls out slowly until just the tip is left in you, thrusting back in after a second. 

You moan at the intrusion,  pulling him closer for another kiss. He continues thrusting in and out, your make-out getting more careless as you moan into each other and his pace gradually picks up. 

Your bodies move in sync, chasing a mutual high. His moans only encourage you to keep meeting his thrusts. He lifts one of your legs higher along his side, the tip of his shaft lightly bumping your cervix with every thrust from this angle. 

“Feels..so..good...” You moan against his mouth. 

“Yea?” He questions softly. 

“Mhm.”

“How does this feel?” He reaches between your bodies to play with your clit as he fucks you. Your fingers dig into his back at the sensation, brows furrowing in an attempt to hold it together. 

“Reall- fuck, really good.” You choke on your words from the intense pleasure. 

He keeps up his pace and you feel myself getting close. 

“Spencer, I’m clos-” You don’t get to finish your sentence, Spencer interrupting you with his lips on yours. 

“Cum for me Pretty Girl.” He coaxes, pulling away.

“I wanna finish together.” You plead, hoping he was as close as he seemed from the way he was grunting. 

“We will. Just let yourself go Princess. I’ve got you.” There was mischief laced with his promise, but you didn’t pick up on it. 

The coil in you was almost at its breaking point. It only took a few deep thrusts and you felt it snap. The feeling forced your eyes to the back of your head and your mouth aimlessly spewed random obscenities. 

Your orgasm had been brewing for almost two whole weeks and when you were finally allowed release, well, the release was really intense. Spencer was no longer moving inside you once you finally came down from your high. 

“Thank yo-” your gratitude was cut off by a loud wail when you felt Spencer slam back into you. You hadn’t noticed him shift into an up-right position, his hands pinning you to the bed by your hips as he continues fucking you with a brutal pace. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” his demeanour shifted to demanding, “what were you saying?”

“Spence, fuck-” You couldn’t think properly with the way he was pounding into you. “What-” Your inability to speak matched your inability to think.

He abruptly pulls out of you, flips you over and pulls you up by your hair. He then grabs your wrists with his free hand and pins both your hands behind your back, pulling your back to rest against his chest so he could whisper directly in your ear. 

“You asked me to fuck you. I’m just giving you what you want.” His tone remained soft, but it was laced with a harsh, taunting aura.

You were utterly flabbergasted. You had pissed him off. Spencer played you. His previous notion of ‘wanting to make it up to you was a decoy. He planned to properly punish you the whole time, buttering you up for his own entertainment.

Letting go of your hair, he pushes you back into the mattress, ass up in the air. He keeps your arms pinned and before you can make any noise, the air cracks to the sound of him spanking you. 

Hard. 

You squirm, burying your face into the mattress to muffle a surprised shriek. He leans down against you, re-aligning his lips to your ear. 

“I’m going to count as I spank you. And for every single one, I want you to tell me one thing you did wrong tonight. Do you understand?” The setting had shifted entirely. Spencer had fully embraced his dominant role and you knew you had to be careful if you didn’t want the punishment to be too prolonged. 

“Yes Sir!”

“One.” His first smack was lighter than the one he surprised you with just a second ago. 

“I rolled my eyes.”

“Two.” Hand hitting over the exact same spot as before. 

“I was mouthy.”

“Three.” This time he hit the other cheek.

“I- I don’t know-” You really didn’t. 

Well you did, but whenever Spencer punished you, your brain turned to mush. You couldn’t think, it turned you on so much that you became stupid. 

“Wrong. You dressed like a whore just to get a reaction out of me. We’re going to start again.” The force he hit with that time was unforgiving. you wailed at the sting. 

“One.” 

You had to restart at least two more times, your recall ability getting weaker with each blow. By the time Spencer finished, both cheeks were stinging. 

He runs his middle finger through your slit, collecting your arousal and pushes it inside you. “Of course you’re even wetter now.” He snickers, you could only moan in response. 

“Nothing? You had so much to say before.” He finally lets go of your wrists, allowing them to fall to the sides and he rubs your sensitive behind. 

“I’m sorry for being a brat.” You muster as you try to flip around and face him.

“You will be.” He stops you and twists you back into position. 

Face down, ass up. 

“Get comfortable Princess, I’m not done with you yet.” 

With that, he enters you in one quick motion, building to the brutal pace he originally set in no time. You swear it’s like you feel more of him now than you could before. Your hands rush to grip the bed sheets to try and keep yourself grounded. 

“Spencer- ah-” He grips a handful of your flesh to shut you up. 

“The only sounds I want coming out of you right now are the ones where you scream my name. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yessir!” You cry out from the pain. 

He’s practically fucking you into the mattress at this point, every thrust so harsh, so precise, hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over. Everytime his body meets your behind the sting intensifies, as if he keeps adding fuel to the fire he set on your skin, blurring the lines between pain and pleasure. 

“Shit- Spen-” You can’t hold yourself back, the only thing on your mind is him, his name falling from your lips as if it was a song stuck on a broken record. 

Your senses were on overload. He was consuming your entire being. You could feel every inch of him inside you and you didn’t want to stop. Your core began to tingle, feeling another orgasm approach you, reducing you to a blubbering mess. The room was filled with sounds of your moans and skin slapping against each other.

“I’m gonna cum, gonna cum, gonn-” Your words fade out.

“Go ahead, cum.” Spencer orders in between thrusts. “Cum all over my cock.”

His permission is all it takes for stars to come down from the sky and take hold in your vision. The sheets aren’t enough to keep you anchored and if it weren’t for Spencer’s grip on you, you’d have fallen flat against the bed. 

It takes a few minutes for you to catch your breaths, knuckles white from how hard you scrunched the sheets in your fingers. He’s still inside you when you come down again, just watching without saying a word. 

“Colour?” Spencer leans in above you from behind, planting a kiss on your shoulder. A reminder of his promise that he’s got you.

“Green.” You wearily whisper. Your legs were burning, your body was utterly exhausted, but you enjoyed it when he used you in spite of the fact. 

“Good. You’re going to give me one more.” 

He plants another kiss and wraps a hand around your neck, the other sneaking between your breasts. Without using any force, he pulls you up in his lap, your back to his chest. A whimper chokes out of you when his length brushes against your inflamed bud. 

“You look so pretty like this Princess.” He coos in short breaths. “All red and fucked out for me. Only me.” 

He lowers his hand from the apex of your breast to his shaft, so that he can align himself with your entrance again. You subconsciously arch in anticipation, eager to have him fill you again despite your physical debilitation. 

Once he’s lined up, his hand travels up again, stopping at the height of your hip. He pushes you down at the same time as he moves up, a loud moan erupting from both of you. 

“You take me so well Princess.” Spencer praises.

Your eyes roll to the back for a second time tonight as your head falls against his collarbone. While his initial pace was slow, it didn’t take long for him to speed it back up to ruthless - you have to admire his stamina. 

He lowers his mouth to just below your jaw, his fingers tightening around the sides of your neck, limiting the blood supply to your brain. At the same time, he starts sucking another hickey on your skin and your jaw hangs open to allow passage to a series of moans as a result. 

“You enjoy being fucked like a whore hmm?” 

The contrast between praise and degradation had you clenching, resulting in desperate grumbles from him. His grip only tightens more when you take too long to answer.

“Yessir-” You stifle, brain going fuzzy from the lack of oxygen. He loosens his grip and smiles, lips grazing your cheek. 

You’re beside yourself, all you control had been relinquished to this man long ago. You feel him play with your clit, circling and flicking the bud. It’s already swollen from previous use, the overstimulation is too much for your body to handle. Unable to squirm away from him, you grasp at his wrist, attempting to push him away. 

Spencer doesn’t relent and you’re too weak to use any force. Everything he does is pushing you over the edge and all you’re able to do is whine and moan. 

“Use your words Princess? What do you want? Do you want me to stop?” He sneers, knowing that’s not at all what you want. 

“N-No Sir.” 

“No? You want me to keep going? Want me to make you cum again?” Small grunts slip from him when he speaks, fingers speeding up between your legs. “You gonna be a good little slut and give me one more?” 

“I ca-can’t, it’s to-ah - too much-''

“Oh so now it’s too much for you?”

There’s nothing romantic about your current disposition. It was purely salacious- his hand on your neck, the other between your legs, you practically kneeling against him with your back to his chest as he pounds into you from behind, the sounds created from your bodies melding and pouring from your throats. 

You’re practically a free use doll for him. Your need to release from earlier today was nothing compared to how bad you need to cum now. You feel like you might explode from the extreme pleasure. 

“Spen-Spence- fuck- pleasepleaseplease-” 

“Oh my poor, sweet little Princess, doesn’t even know what she wants. Can’t even think because her brain’s too fucked out. Maybe I should stop, let you get a break.” Spencer mocks. 

“Nononono, please! So close, Im so-fuck!” 

Spencer keeps his pace on your clit, but slows down his hips when speaking.

“I think we should stop here.” He taunts. “Just look at you! You’re a mess. I don’t think you know what you want.”

“Yes-Yes I do- I do! Please Spence- don’t stop!” 

“I can’t help you if you’re not making sense. Speak clearly, what do you want me to do?” Your desperation was thrilling for him. He wanted to draw it out as long as he could by teasing you. 

“I’m so-close, I c-can’t!”

His fingers tighten around your throat again.

“Yes you can. You can and you will. Use your words, what do you want?” 

“Ple-ease Sir, let me c-cum.” 

He purposely thrusts as hard as he can when you speak to throw you off, so you have to repeat yourself. 

“I said clearly, Princess. That was not clear enough.” He teases, smugly. 

You inhale deeply.

“Please let me cum, Sir.”

Satiated with your answer, Spencer releases your throat and speeds up again. It doesn’t take long before he becomes sloppy with his movements. The final few thrusts are buried as deep within you as physically possible and you surrender to your climax.

Not even a moment after you finish, Spencer empties himself inside of you, hot ropes of his cum filling you up as he buries his head in the crook of your neck. A synched, loud moan concludes your tango and you fall limp against each other before you tumble onto the mattress.

Both take a moment, heaving intensely as you lay side by side. Spencer’s hand finds yours and he rubs small, soothing circles on the back of it. 

“What was that?” You ask when you feel enough air fill your lungs. 

He gradually turns his head to you, eyes darting as if he was searching for something in the back of his mind.

“Malicious compliance. For a lack of better wording.” He answers in a whisper, trying to catch his breath. You snort weakly, not much energy in your body to spare.

“You should maliciously comply more often.”

“I don’t think you actually want me to maliciously comply.” He pants. 

Re-adjusting to face him and you just stare at each other for a moment. A breathless fit of giggles sparks amongst you. When you fall silent again, you just lie there, staring deeply into each other's eyes. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up. Hmm?” He intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“How you have any energy left to get up is beyond me.”

“Oh believe me, I don’t,” still panting, “but I really want to take care of you right now.”

“You just did.” You counter.

There’s a hint of penitence in his eyes, so fleeting that you almost miss it. you want to question it, but it’s quickly replaced by the expression of rapture. 

“Come on Honey.” He implores and you make a mental note to ask him later. 

He takes your hands and pulls you up with him. You both lazily make your way to the bathroom, you hold on to him the whole way, scared that your legs alone won’t be strong enough to carry you right now. 

Immediately upon seeing your reflection, you laugh awkwardly. Mascara was running down your face, your lipstick all smudged, you truly looked like a mess. Spencer kisses your temple and turns on the shower, returning to you while you wait for the water to heat up.

He props you on the bathroom counter, removing your stockings for you, peppering you in thankful kisses. You reach over for your make-up remover and Spencer grabs the cotton wipes, insistent on removing it for you. His touch is light as he carefully wipes cosmetic residue from your face.

The bathroom fogs up and you finally get in the shower. Neither of you speak, reserving your strength to keep you standing. Instead, you wrap your arms around each other, letting go only to aid in washing your bodies. Both of you stay in the shower for a little bit longer than intended, just holding the other. 

“I’m going to make us some tea. Will you be okay to finish off here by yourself?” He speaks up after a little while. 

“Yea I’ll be fine. I’ll join you in a minute.” 

He gives you a quick peck, then two, before he leaves. You take your time, peeing after your shower when you remember Spencer’s lecture on avoiding UTIs from when you first started dating. Once you’re all nice and clean, you slip into one of Spencer’s shirts and some fresh underwear.

You walk into the living room to find Spencer sitting on the couch, two cups of tea on the coffee table, while he fiddles with his files again. Great. Opting to ignore it due to your fatigue, you march into the kitchen to grab your phone. 

Your abandoned dress is neatly draped on one of the dining chairs. Spencer must've picked it up when he was making tea. You grab your phone to find many missed calls from your friends. Fuck. You had forgotten about your plans. 

You quickly shoot them a text to apologise and make some excuse for your absence, promising to make it up to them soon. 

“Honey, you okay?” Spencer calls out from the living room. 

You make your way back to him upon hearing his voice. “Yea, I was just texting my friends.”

“Would you like to do that sitting down? Your tea’s getting cold.” He extends his hand out to you from the couch and you take it, sinking into his embrace. 

“Don’t you have to go back to your files?” When you look around, the files are nowhere to be seen. 

“No. No more working on files.” He sighs

“Spence, what’s wrong?” You ask, pulling away from his arms. “You have that look on your face again.”

“I’ve been neglecting you. And I’m sorry.”

That’s what it was. 

“Oh, Honey. It’s okay, I mean I get it. It’s your job.” 

“You don’t have to do that. This isn’t part of my job. It’s just this one case that’s really getting to me and I’ve let it take over my life outside the job.” Guilt rides his features. You  cup his face in your hands and he takes hold of your wrist. 

“I won’t lie to you. It’s hard, but I know how much the BAU means to you.” You console. 

“It does mean a lot. But so do you.” He shakes his head as he pulls you into another hug. “I’ve seen what this job does to people. To relationships. I value you too deeply to let that happen to us. I promise that from now, work stays at work. When I come home, I’m all yours.”

“Jesus I love this man.” You proclaim to yourself silently. “Thank you for that.” is what you say aloud. 

“Infact,” Spencer's the one to pull away this time. He reaches over for his phone and begins texting someone, “just give me a second.”

“What are you doing?” 

It takes him some time to reply. Texting is not one of his strong suits, he needs to pay a little more attention to the task than most people. 

“I’ve just texted Hotch for some time off. I hope you don’t have any plans this weekend, because you and I are going to spend the entirety of it together.” He smiles goofily. 

“I love you.” You blurt out with more passion than you were expecting. 

“And I love you.” He replies with equal enthusiasm, leaning in his lips against yours. 

The kiss is so emotional, so raw, so perfect. 

“Now,” He brushes your hair behind your ear, “let’s finish this tea and get to bed. I have two weeks worth of cuddling to make up for, I believe.”

“So you’ve been counting too?” You laugh.

“I count every second I don’t spend with you so that I know to make up for it properly.” He confides.

You almost jump at him for another kiss, unable to contain your emotions. This man was perfect in every sense of the word to you. 

As the two of you sat there, just talking, desire surged through your body once again, but in a different way this time. It was more than a desire for pleasure. It was a desire for the man you’re lucky enough to call your boyfriend. A desire to just be in his presence, to be loved by him and to love him in his entirety. A desire for Spencer Reid.

Spoilers: Established relationship, Dom! Spencer, Possessive! Spencer, Sub! Reader, Bratty! Reader, soft & rough sex, spanking, degrading kink, praise kink, breast play, name calling, choking, hair pulling, fingering, slight edging (barely), overstimulation, creampie, after-care, fluff.

AN - Hey guys I’m beginning to sense that I might be incapable of not writing fluff in every story and I recognise it may need to stop. Anyways when imagining this, my brain decided it should include vanilla, soft dom and mean dom Spencer all in one, I’m sorry for that.  Shoutout to all the smut writers out there, this is my first smut piece and it was so fucking complicated to write. There’s only so many ways you can write smut, y’all are dedicated. To all my virgins out there: please keep in mind that this does not represent real sex and barely is sex ever even slightly close to as good as we imagine in fanfics. Also women's bodies do not react the way we read most of the time.

Feel free to drop helpful constructive criticism, I’m always looking to improve :)

Thank you for reading!

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fandom #ssa spencer reid #bau team #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #smut and fluff #fluff and smut #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #fem!reader #smut

[lucysarah-c]

Euphemisms

Summary: Levi may not have attended school, but he knows a thing or two about pregnancy… and also periods. (Levi takes care of you during your period) Author's Note: I wrote this story a while ago for my main fic. Then, I wrote a different version for the final cut of the fic, so I decided to re-arrange this one so it could be a one-shot. Warning: Suggesting themes, mentions of pregnacy. The reader is a virgin. Word Count: 3.5k

The calendar that was peacefully and innocently lying on top of Erwin’s desk. ‘March…’ her mind read, ‘It’s March already, the 7th to be precise.’ Her mind tried to count days, desperately trying to find missing days that could make the counting lower. Biting her nails with worry, this was a new topic for her to be stressed about.

Levi had joined the military only a year ago, right? He hadn’t been promoted yet, but the gossip in the halls said it was imminent. Perhaps because in the few months he had been part of the Scouts, he had already killed more titans than anyone before. Maybe it was because he worked directly for Erwin, who kept ordering her to write letters to the military board requesting the special promotion of Captain for those who were impressive additions to the military but hadn’t gone through the regular training.

The yet-to-be Captain and she had locked eyes in the past, or… done more than just locking eyes. That was the issue now. Every single time Levi was dragged into Erwin’s office because he had replied with his colorful vocabulary to a higher-up or fought another cadet, she was there. One thing led to another, and during common chores or after training, they had gotten more “familiar” with each other.

Y/N wouldn’t even dare to complain. The thug that Erwin had decided to bring to the surface kicking and shouting was many things. Rushed wasn’t one of them. She had clarified to him that she had never had a boyfriend before, or anything to be more precise, and he had reassured her that she could set the tempo. They would do anything that she felt comfortable with.

“Lev- Ah-“ she whimpered as he kissed her neck enthusiastically and his fingers played thoughtful circles over her clit.

“You like that, hm?” Levi replied almost as joke, it was obvious that she did by the way she rocked her hips against his hand.

“I-?!”

“Shhh,” he hushed her, half as mockery, half because they were breaking curfew “Don’t worry, I won’t go too far… two fingers are all I need,”

Blood rushed to her cheeks as she tried to concentrate on work, pen marking the time as it repeatedly hit the paper she was supposed to be reading while her mind recalled the exact scenes that, she believed, had dragged her into this situation.

The little knowledge that had been shared with her was more lies and tales than realistic information. The sudden crucifixion of her actions a couple of months ago passed in her mind as a picture book, one after the other, as her less pure side made an emphasis on bringing back the mental sequence of him taking off his shirt while smirking and then going down to kiss her, or better say devour her, taking her breath as if he needed the oxygen from her lungs for himself. Perhaps, the rocking of his bare hips against hers, with his manhood in full display for her to see as it pressed against her lower stomach.

‘Maybe it takes longer to show… no no, maybe I’m not. But what if I am?’ ‘Who do I tell? Who do I ask? What do I do?’

“Oi, are you going to tell me what the fuck is up with you or not?” Levi asked, pissed off already after an entire day of him asking, “You alright?” and her answering with a face that seemed far from okay, saying “Yes.” He was resting his body on the railing of the watch post, with a hot cup of tea between his hands.

“Nothing,” her voice came out whispery and sad, and he sighed loudly and groaned in pain.

“Just say it. Don’t be like ‘nothing,’” he emphasized the last word with sarcasm and disdain and kept going, “with the most fucked up face. It’s obvious that something is going on. Don’t be a pain in the ass and say it. Cut the show.”

A part of her wanted to be mad at him for saying that she wasn’t making a show or a scene. “It’s nothing that concerns you,” her response came dubitable, which made Levi keep up the demanding attitude, as if this time he wasn’t taking that as an answer. “It doesn’t concern you… you as a man.”

There was a brief silence before he sighed loudly. “You’re on the rags, that’s it?” She raised an eyebrow at the euphemism that was a bit more “street-like” than what she was used to. “You’re on your period, you’re bleeding. That’s what I meant.”

Leaving aside that it wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last that despite both of them talking the same language as every human inside of the walls, Underground slang was so distant from what she was used to that sometimes that they got lost in translation. When she got what he meant, she blushed intensely, ashamed. “No, and God, you could be a bit more delicate about it.”

Possibly, she wasn’t used to bringing the topic around the other gender. She had been told (since it happened for the first time) the bearable minimum amount of information: “You’re a woman now, it will happen every month, men must not know.” Telling Levi was breaking one of the three rules set in stone for her. The second rule was also broken, so she felt like stepping on completely foreign land.

The permanent wrinkled frown in Levi’s complexion was slightly changed with the addition of a raised, thin eyebrow. “If you’re not, then what’s the problem?”

She joined in the frowning and avoided his glance with questionable security and a mortified appearance. “More like… the lack of it?”

“Why are you worried about it?” Levi’s straightforward nature was testing her limits of politeness.

“Well, you know!” she cussed at him. “That I may be expecting,” she whispered the last part, terrified that someone might even hear her, in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere. As if those words could travel through walls and arrive at someone.

This was the time for him to be shocked and surprised. His eyebrows raised, and his eyes opened. Suddenly, even without him wanting, a pang of hurt appeared in his face. Levi was quick to question, “Are you fuckin’ someone?”

Perhaps the details or the official title of what they were sharing hadn’t been discussed yet, but Levi somehow thought it was rather clear that they were exclusive. However, since she seemed genuinely worried, Levi considered that perhaps he was the only one taking this more seriously. The idea of him misreading the relationship was like a bucket of cold water mixed with the raging fire of jealousy. He took a sip of his tea, mostly to disguise the disappointment mingled with hurt.

Her coldness was lost, and she pressed her lips together while raising both eyebrows, irritated. “You!”

The former thug, not following her train of thought, admired her in confusion before saying, “How could I get you knotted up?”

Levi’s usual frowning expression changed slightly as he was certainly not getting the point of the conversation. “Are you fuckin’ someone else?”

Gasping in disbelief, “Are you already questioning my loyalty to you?” She felt dreadfully offended. She turned around and gave him her back. “My grandmother was right. Men back up so easily. They leave you as soon as they find out.”

He shook his head slightly while wrinkling the nose, as he tried to process everything. He was completely confused but at the same time he got a rush of relief at her words. “You… you think you could be knock up?”

“Couldn’t you be softer about it? You say it so harshly,” she complained about his sharp tongue. As a silent reply, the hand that wasn’t holding the cup left his trousers’ pocket and raised as he also cocked an eyebrow, completely misunderstanding what was wrong with his choice of words. “I don’t know, maybe a bun in the oven or with child.”

She was freaking out inside and out, and Levi dedicated his best disinterested look to her after her correction of words. “What am I going to do?” she questioned to no one in particular as she felt the fear kicking in.

Levi’s expression remained the same as he gave it a thought, and then said almost as if he was confused of his own actions too. “I … I haven’t put it in yet,”

She seemed to have completely ignored him. Once he had finally concluded there was actually no real problem he sighed and then said, “Then you’re not pregnant, chill. Calm down.” As soon as those words left his lips and she turned around with a dead gaze, his free hand raised again but this time as some sort of white flag. “Fine, fucking terrible choice of words.” Aware that not a single person in human history had calmed down after being told so.

“You don’t know that,” she murmured as a reply to his first statement.

“I think I kinda do.” The calmness in his tone and the disinterest in his face made her even more infuriated.

“People in my life, especially my family, had made it clear before. Messing around with a man could lead to pregnancy. We were both naked and your… your thing was touching me and close by. I don’t know! Maybe it worked somehow,” she desperately tried to express her fears until she heard him chuckle. It was starting to be tiring to dedicated him dead glances.

“Sorry,” he apologized, probably realizing that laughing in her face wasn’t helping. “I may not be the most educated moron around here, but that simply is not how it works. I didn’t put my dick in, not even close, so you’re safe.”

“Are you implying that you know more than everybody around me?”

“More about sex than you? Apparently, yes, I’m sure of that.” As he arrived at the end of his reply, he couldn’t stop a side smirk from appearing on his features, and then he took a sip from his tea. "If getting knotted up was that easy, girly, there would be more kids than fucking grass.”

Her stubbornness didn’t allow her to believe him. She walked around the watch post worrying, “What if I need to carry it on? Will I lose my job? Erwin will be so disappointed in me! I’m not ready for that. I’m not ready to be a mother either.”

Levi rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You know, there’s no fucking schools down there but I’m sure about this.” He commented, thinking to himself so stupidly prudish surface people were compared to the underground. “You’re not knock up. I’ve to put it in and shoot my load for that to happen”

When he noticed she wasn’t really paying attention, Levi took a cup and filled it up with tea. He placed it in her hands and grabbed her face. His rough, calloused hand applied pressure on her cheeks and raised it slowly, to look up at him even when they were more or less the same height. “Calm the fuck down. Why would I lie to you? If it was possible, don’t you think I would freak out? Drink the tea and relax for goodness’ sake. We are one week away from an expedition, and you’re stressed as a fucking cornered rat. Of course, your period is not coming down.”

“Alright,” she stuttered. “But what if I am? You’re not leaving me to deal with this alone, right?” She gave him her best doe eyes.

“Of course,” he replied, mostly to not argue with her but the thought that she was still considering it made him roll his eyes.

Stress is never an excellent ally. He was right in everything. They came back from the expedition; she relaxed for a few days, and it came right in. If there’s something worse than a period, it's a late one. Her hormones were messed up, and everything hurt twice as much.

"Trying" was a generous word for her attempts at pretending she wasn’t in so much pain that she wished she'd never left her bed. It was a mix of the constant discomfort from the unrelenting waves of pain and a boiling sensation in her lower belly. Not to mention the random rushes of intense pain in her butt that made her feel as if time froze until the sensation slowly passed. She felt moody, mostly because the uniform felt like it was pressing in all the wrong places. It was too tight, complicated, impractical, itchy, and either too cold or too warm. She wanted to put on a long shirt and lay in bed for a week.

Her fork moved the food from one side of the plate to the other. She was hungry, but not for breakfast. The usual meal felt like an insult to her state. ‘I want comfort food, not healthy stuff for training,’ she thought.

“Why the shitty face? Are you constipated?” Levi asked bluntly. Her initial thought was, ‘Yes, try going to the bathroom normally when you feel like dying.’

“I have a headache,” she replied miserably.

Levi hummed a positive reply, “Ah,” looking her from the other side of the table and simply stated, “Your blood finally came,”

She choked on the glass of water she was drinking, coughing loudly. When she finally recovered, her embarrassed expression made it clear how she felt. “Don’t say that! Or at least not like that. Haven’t you imagined that a headache is a social clue since you’re a man and I don’t want you to know?”

Levi, who once again didn’t understand her reactions, kept his uninterested facade and raised the teacup to his lips. “I don’t get your fucking embarrassment. Men know about it. It’s not a secret.”

“It’s girls’ stuff,” she tried desperately to keep the traditions she was told, while Levi was obstinate about going against them.

“It’s normal. Why are people here on the surface so fucking obsessed about hiding normal shit?” Levi, still getting used to another society, snarled.

The need to argue left her body as she writhed in pain from another cramp. She tried to hide it as best as she could, even though Levi already knew; she felt like expressing her pain was something he didn’t want to hear.

“If you feel that bad, go to bed and rest.” His voice was calm and monotone as always, but there were hints of compassion escaping his stoic expression.

“I can’t tell the superiors,” she used as an excuse.

Levi clicked his tongue, annoyed. “Who cares? What’s the point of you training while feeling like this? Go, rest, and I will tell Erwin.”

“Erwin shouldn’t know,” she cried out loud, as if that was the worst fate.

“Don’t be an idiot. Erwin has hair on his balls. He knows how it works.” Levi felt as if she was talking nonsense but when he saw her conflicted face, he added, “I will tell him you caught a cold, whatever, so rest. I’ll do your chores.”

“You sure?”

“Just go.”

She did exactly that. At first, she felt she shouldn’t because she could bare it, but as soon as she arrived at her shared bedroom, changed her clothes, and laid quietly on the bed, she knew she didn’t want to be anywhere else. She fell asleep; it was still early anyway, so it was more like resuming the rest of the night than an actual nap.

Later, a few hours before dinner, she was feeling quite bad but wasn’t tired enough to take another nap. Laying on her side, curled up as she read a book slowly because it was hard to read from that position, she heard a knock on the door. It was unusual because her friends would have just rushed in.

“Come in!” she said, slowly and lazily sitting up.

Levi's figure appeared, and she felt the urgent need to smooth out her hair, which was heavily tangled from lying in bed all day. “What are you doing here?” she questioned quickly, running her hands through her hair. “Men are not allowed in the female barracks.”

Levi left a tray with tea and some buns with jelly, probably leftover from breakfast, on her nightstand as he moved next to her between the two bunk beds. “Who is gonna keep me out?” he replied monotonously, as if they both knew nobody was going to pick a fight with him or get on his bad side by snitching to a higher-up.

Before she could thank him, he asked, “You have a hot water bottle?”

“Yeah, but it’s cold already,” she replied, still confused. He extended a hand as a silent gesture for her to give it to him.

Once she handed it to him, he declared, “I’ll come back later. Drink the tea before it gets cold. Bread with jelly was the closest thing to something your bratty sweet tooth would like.”

She accepted the warm cup he handed her with a tender smile. “Thank you so much, you shouldn’t have.”

“How are you feeling?” Levi asked, keeping his eyes on her while she tasted the tea. ‘Chamomile,’ she noted.

“Could be worse, I’ll survive,” she replied, still embarrassed that he was around. “Did you warn the higher-ups?”

Levi nodded. “Told them you had a headache. Erwin said to take it easy today and let him know how you feel tomorrow. He mentioned something about administrative activities or some bullshit like that if you’re still not feeling well enough for training.”

She accepted the white lie without question. While resting warmly in bed, she thought, ‘If it’s only him knowing, I could get used to this kind of pampering.’

The white lie was necessary because when Levi walked to Erwin, who was leading his squad’s early morning training, he stood in front of him and said, “Y/N isn’t training today, she’s bleeding.”

The blunt words made the blond, who was casually writing on a spreadsheet, snap quickly in shock and then chuckle slightly out of nervousness. “Oh, alright, I’ll write her down as indisposed.”

“Don’t tell me you’re fucking ashamed, too?” Levi rested his hands on his hips, looking deeply at his squad leader.

Erwin, probably smiling at the unexpected situation, said, “Well no, but usually people are a bit more discreet… especially the girls.” Levi clicked his tongue, annoyed, before Erwin added, “I highly doubt Y/N told you to tell me that.”

“She told me to say she had a headache.”

“Of course,” Erwin chuckled, knowing those were not her words. “Try to be softer next time, especially if you ever have girls under your command. They get really embarrassed, especially when they are young.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Got it. I’ll add it to my long list of stuff that you fuckers from the surface get scared about.”

He was ready to go back to training while Erwin let the swears slip by as if he was tired of calling Levi’s attention to those. Then the shorter man asked, “Do you have chamomile tea?”

Erwin raised his attention from the spreadsheet to look at Levi and simply replied, “No. I have black tea.”

He clicked his tongue, “it’s for the brat,” Levi clarified, as if that would make a difference.

“I imagined, but no. I can give you black tea if you want.” Erwin insisted, confused about the specificity.

Levi frowned. “That doesn’t work, moron. Caffeine makes cramps worse. Chamomile works better. Don’t you know that?”

The blond shook his head, not ashamed of admitting his lack of knowledge. “Usually, female cadets don’t talk to us about that.”

“About their bleeding? Don’t you have a little sister?” Levi questioned back, as if that was reason enough.

“Step-sister, and she was born after I joined the military. We never shared a household,” Erwin explained as he went back to his work, disinterested. “And we prefer to call it indisposed,” he added, instructing him again.

“Tch, got it. I’ll add it to the other list of stuff I should say instead,” Levi said, ending the conversation as he turned around and walked away.

Or so he thought, because Erwin spoke up again. His attention was still on his paperwork while he switched the weight from one leg to the other, making the little rocks of the training ground move and crack. “Euphemisms.”

The former thug looked back over his shoulder, frowning, and asked, “What?” from a slightly bigger distance now.

“Euphemisms,” Erwin repeated as if the question was because the cadet didn’t hear it. But as soon as the blond didn’t get an answer, he proceeded to explain, “A euphemism is a word or phrase used to avoid saying an unpleasant or offensive word.”

Erwin had no intention of displaying his education to the former thug, more of a plain explanation. The blond even raised his eyes and did a slight smile as a “white flag,” not trying to sound superior in his explanation.

Levi replied with his best deadpan expression, “You surface assholes know that but not about chamomile tea? You should check your priorities.”

This time, the black-haired cadet truly walked away, hearing his superior chuckle a bit. “Check with Hange. They may have the tea,” Erwin called after him.

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @kikarouflames @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee Wanna join my tag list? Here!

Ps: If you ask me... Erwin know they are fucking lol

#levi ackerman #levi #captain levi #levi aot #snk levi #levi x reader #levi x y/n #aot levi #snk levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackeman #levi attack on titan #captain levi ackerman x you #captain levi x reader #captian levi x reader #captain levi ackerman x y/n #captain levi x you #levi shingeki no kyojin #levi x you #aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titans #levi smut #levi x reader smut #levi ackerman snk #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x reader smut #levi ackerman x female!reader

[moghedien]

Honestly obsessed right now with the way all the BG3 romancable girlies are the most affection starved creatures on the planet

Shadowheart is just existing in a constant state of being manipulated and abused by Shar and Viconia on behalf of Shar. She has like exactly one friend who she can’t even remember when we meet her because even that has to be taken from her on Shar’s demands. She’s probably had lovers but she can’t remember them and Shar wouldn’t allow anything serious anyway. The two people would show her affection are her parents who she’s not even allowed to remember are her parents from one interaction to another and who she’s made to torture, again for Shar. And the way she talks about Shar, it’s clear that Shadowheart wants some kind of positive attention, but the only attention she gets is a shock collar that punishes her when she’s not being what Shar wants her to be.

Lae’zel is made to see affection as a sign of weakness. She can’t comprehend even treating kids in a way that can even be slightly considered coddling. She sees it as damaging to them, raising them to be weak, because she was raised to cull or be culled when it comes to her peers. If you romance her, she’s initially deeply uncomfortable with the idea of even just cuddling after sex. And even sex is a power struggle, even when she thinks it can’t be anything more than casual. She can’t be weak even while she’s fucking bottoming. You have to be nearly into act 3 before she’ll even admit that she wants you to touch her gently and she says asking for it is one of the most frightening things she’s ever done. The girl doesn’t even know what the word love means until the epilogue, if you romance her.

Minthara has spent her entire life looking over her shoulder for people waiting to kill her in some power struggle. The relationships she mentions to you either ended with death or at least had assassination attempts at some point. She seems close to her mother for a drow noble but still sees that as a relationship that has to end eventually in murder. And even though she has had her mind taken from her, she seems much more eager to pry into your mind than anyone else and when she does it’s because she’s looking for information on herself. How you see her. She wants to see everything laid out and to trust each other completely. Having access to each others’ minds is probably somewhat of a relief to her, because this way she can know exactly how you feel and exactly if and when you’re going to betray her. If you don’t intend to, then that would be the first time in her life she could ever not be constantly on edge around someone.

And Karlach. It’s sad because she’s absolutely the one that would be most willing to trust and open to affection. But she literally is not physically able to receive it. She was forced to fight in the blood war for a decade unable to trust anyone and not having a single friend. The closest thing she had was still a devil who enjoyed hurting her in petty little ways, who would still sell her out to Zariel. And when she’s escaped from the Hells, she still can’t physically touch anyone without killing or at least severally hurting them. She is clearly the most openly eager for physical affection, even the most platonic and casual touch, but she can’t get that. She will literally physically hurt anyone who gets too close to her not matter how hard she tries not to, because of how other people hurt her.

#the girlies aren’t ok #they’re touch starved and affection less #shadowheart #lae'zel #minthara #minthara baenre #karlach #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

[quin-ns]

The blue V (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Series summary: JJ has a secret, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto it. He discovers his breaking point when his best friend starts to show interest in you, his step sister, who he’s already fallen hard for

Series tags: step brother!jj, dual pov, jealousy, one sided john b x reader, drinking, inappropriate relationship, public sex, oral sex (f receiving)

Series masterlist + OBX masterlist

JJ was trying to grapple with the fact that you kissing him somehow resulted in an awful night. It should’ve been a dream come true, but then you took it back in an instant.

He made himself at home on Pope’s couch for the next few days following the movie night, not knowing how to face you.

He thought he’d ruined everything when he kissed you that night in your room, but then in the morning, you’d given him some sense of relief. You didn’t hate him, and you were willing to forget about it. It wasn’t exactly what JJ wanted and sure it hurt like hell to agree, but at least he hadn’t lost you entirely.

But then it seemed as if you changed your mind almost immediately, evident by you going out of your way to ignore him at the movie. JJ couldn’t blame you for that, he had a feeling you were only trying to spare his feelings that morning. You were so loving like that, but he should’ve known that you always saw him like a brother—then he wrecked that, like he did with most good things.

JJ resolved to hide out until the movie was over in an attempt to accept his fate, but then you came along… and you kissed him. He was so happy to be wrong, but then you decided you’d made a mistake and decided it couldn’t happen again.

Everything had become such a mess. JJ wished he could blame you, or John B, or someone that wasn’t himself.

JJ wondered where he’d be right now if he hadn’t kissed you that first time, if he hadn’t crossed that line that there was no turning back from.

He couldn’t come up with an exact answer, but he guessed it wouldn’t be on Pope’s couch, pretending to be asleep so he wouldn’t have to get up just yet. He liked to think he’d be with you.

“I know your awake,” his friend said, calling his bluff. JJ reluctantly opened his eyes to find Pope standing over him, looking down with a brow raised. “Maybe I’d be more sympathetic if you told me why you were sulking.”

“I’m not sulking,” JJ argued. “I just know you’re gonna make me work.”

Maybe it was a believable enough lie, because Pope snorted.

When things got bad, JJ would usually stay at the Chateau. No adults around to worry about, and John B had the extra space for him—and you, on most occasions. It wasn’t like they weren’t on speaking terms, but JJ knew he overreacted and didn’t feel like apologizing quite yet. Plus, from what Pope mentioned, the other boy was busy anyway.

Or maybe it was just an excuse, he couldn’t know for certain.

He appreciated Pope for letting him stay, even if he’d begun to wear out his welcome. JJ could handle Heyward’s back handed comments, he’d dealt with worse. It was better than being at home, especially without you.

That was another thing he learned from Pope, that you were basically living at Kiara’s. He’d crack a joke about great minds thinking alike if you were around. But you weren’t, and he still blamed himself.

JJ wondered if Pope got the information from you or Kie, but he didn’t let himself ask. It didn’t really matter in the end as long as you were okay, even if you weren’t talking to him.

After he stormed off from the concession building, leaving you behind, he convinced Pope to pack up and head out early, leaving you and Kiara to finish the movie without them.

The entire drive back to Pope’s house, he dodged his friends' questions, and suppressed the urge to run back to you.

He wasn’t used to fighting with you, or even being mad at you, and he hated it. But he held onto that anger, because he knew if he saw you and you asked for forgiveness, he’d break. JJ clung to the stubbornness because it was easier. Even if you weren’t trying to hurt him, you had. It was bad enough feeling like he fucked everything up, but you giving him a taste of reciprocation only to regret it sent his mind in a spiral.

You told him that you couldn’t. Not that you didn’t want to. He reminded himself of that.

So if you did want to, what was so wrong about it? Really? He loved you, and you at least imagined a world where it was possible you could love him back the same way—enough to kiss him, at least. Maybe it only seemed wrong because of the way you two were acting.

You’d never been good at dealing with your feelings. That was something JJ learned the two of you shared.

JJ wondered what you were thinking right now. If it wasn’t for Pope practically dragging him off the couch to get ready for a day of grocery deliveries, JJ could’ve spent the entire day trying to guess what was going on in your head.

JJ wasn’t exactly thrilled that Pope drove them to the Chateau after all the deliveries were taken care of, but he didn’t protest, either.

Truthfully, he did miss hanging out with John B. The two of them had been best friends for what seemed like forever. Even he knew that the building resentment towards his friend didn’t feel right.

When JJ thought about it, like really thought about it, he bet that if he genuinely told John B to forget his feelings for you, his friend would try. He was a good guy like that.

JJ’s only problem was explaining himself, and that’s what kept his mouth shut about the entire thing.

John B didn’t mention it either, just greeted him and suggested the three of them go out on the boat to fish in the marsh.

There was a strange sense of relief JJ felt when John B didn’t apologize, because he wasn’t ready to either. The silent acceptance of one another’s presence was enough for them to get on with things.

It was late afternoon, so they’d be able to fish for a little while. They each had lines cast, sitting scattered along the boat. JJ happened to be on the front of the boat, while John B was on the right and Pope was on the left. They had to keep it balanced enough that it wouldn’t tip.

“He’s not so bad,” John B explained as JJ tuned back in. “He’s just really into his boat.”

Right, John B was talking about work.

“He’s paying you enough, right?” JJ piped up, looking away from his line to his friend. “To have you on call like this?”

“Not exactly ‘on call’, but yeah. Ward’s being fair,” John B explained with a shrug.

JJ smirked to himself as he looked forward. “I still think Ward wouldn’t notice if we borrowed his boat for the night.”

John B scoffed out a laugh.

“He definitely would, JJ, it’s not happening.”

“I’m not spending my summer in jail,” Pope joined in.

John B and JJ exchanged a smile over their shoulders, and everything seemed back to normal.

“We should’ve invited the girls,” Pope said randomly. “Kie would’ve made sandwiches and Y/N always brings her speaker.”

“Kie won’t let us keep anything we catch and Y/N gets bored if we’re stopped too long,” John B countered. He smiled to himself. “If Y/N were here, she’d already be jumping behind the wheel and driving way too fast.”

JJ found himself chuckling, because it was true.

“When she drives it’s like she’s trying to throw us all off,” JJ added fondly. “But we let her anyway.”

“It’s not like you can argue with her,” John B continued. JJ shared a smile with John B at the thought. “She always wins.”

“It’s ’cause you guys let her,” Pope joined in, causing both JJ and John B to turn and look at him. Pope shifted to face them. “What? It’s true. Especially JJ.”

JJ couldn’t argue because it was true, like Pope said.

A curious look appeared on John B’s face.

“You think the girls talk about us when we’re not around?”

The three of them shared a look at John B’s question.

“Probably not,” Pope finally said, turning back to his line. He sounded almost disappointed.

If Pope liked you too JJ might have to jump into the ocean.

John B exchanged a look with JJ before asking, “You good, man?”

JJ swore he noticed the same selfish worry on John B’s face, and it reminded him John B was supposed to be an obstacle.

“You think Kie even notices me?” Pope asked.

JJ felt a weight off his chest. Somehow he’d forgotten about his own suspicions about that. He’d been so caught up in his own self destruction, it was hard to keep track of everyone else.

“We’re all friends, man, of course she does,” John B supplied, but he knew that’s not how Pope meant it.

“Right,” Pope said. He got to his feet, evidently done with trying to catch anything. None of them had been successful yet. “Just forget it,” he decided, reeling in his line. “We have rules for a reason.”

No Pogue on Pogue macking. It was supposed to maintain all of their friendships with one another without anything getting complicated or anyone getting hurt. The more JJ thought about it the lamer it sounded. It was pretty useless now.

No one knew quite how to respond to that, because if John B and JJ told him to ignore the rule, things could get weird. If they told him to follow it, they’d be hypocrites.

As John B got up to go to the wheel after reeling in his line, JJ watched him. He wondered what John B would have to say about it when it came to you.

You were someone worth breaking rules for, JJ knew that all too well.

He tried to smother the sudden wave of jealousy that threatened to overtake him. Him and John B were cool now and he didn’t even have to address the argument. That should’ve been a win in JJ’s book, but he couldn’t help but think about what would happen the next time you all hung out.

It made his stomach turn to think he might have to wait a while for that. He hadn’t seen your face in person in days, hadn’t heard your voice in just as long, and he was going through withdrawals. Photos in his phone of the two of you together only made his heart ache when he looked at them before sleeping. JJ tried to dream of you, but when he woke up he could never remember the details. There was only a familiar pang in his chest that he took to mean he had.

Every time he zoned out, he remembered the kiss. Mostly the second one, where you had kissed him. Where you’d held him and he’d pressed his body to yours.

JJ cleared his throat, face growing flushed at the memory. If you hadn't rejected him, JJ wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to stop at just kissing you that night.

He looked out in the murky water, getting only ripples of his reflection. It looked wrong without you at his side.

Back at the Chateau, they lounged on the porch, now avoiding the topic of you and Kiara. They all did it in a not-so-subtle manner, but no one commented on it either.

JJ was relieved, because the longer he thought about you, the more he started to internally spiral. It didn’t help that John B was right there, sitting on the couch that fueled the fire not too long ago.

He wasn’t even sure you liked John B like that, but JJ still held enough overall doubt to keep him on his toes. He didn’t think you would kiss him either, or that you’d reject him right after. He was finding it harder to read you these days and it got to him.

“There’s gonna be a party on the beach tonight,” John B mentioned once steady conversation began to dry up. “Apparently everyone is going.”

Everyone. That could mean you.

For as far as he’d gone out of his way to avoid you to spare himself, JJ missed you. He wanted to see you. JJ couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone this long without seeing you and it was becoming unbearable. Another part of him wanted to go to get an answer. If he could just talk to you, maybe he could get you to see his side of things. If he couldn’t… JJ didn’t want to think about it at the moment.

“I’m down,” JJ replied, already getting lost in his own mind, trying to formulate what to say to you. It excited him in a strange way as all the outcomes he wanted overtook his brain. He zeroed in on the positives, the ones where he got exactly what he wanted—to be happy with you. “How ‘bout you, Pope?”

“Yeah, sure,” Pope agreed with a nod. “I just gotta stop by my house first.”

Having dinner with Pope’s family was nice, but JJ was itching to get out of his seat the entire time. He should’ve stuck with John B so he could be at the beach party by now, but he couldn’t say no to Pope, and Pope couldn’t say no to his mother.

It was way past sunset when they finally got to the Boneyard, and the party was in full swing. People cluttered the shore, music blasted from a speaker somewhere, kegs were placed about, filling the red solo cups that nearly everyone carried in their hands, and a decently sized bonfire was lighting the entire scene.

The entire car ride, JJ had been preparing himself. He decided he was going to tell you everything. Maybe you had some idea (well obviously, he didn’t kiss you for no reason), but he was going to lay all his cards on the table.

Stupid things had good outcomes all the time, right?

They hadn't so far but he had a lingering bit of hope as he reminded himself you’d kissed him too. You wouldn’t do that for no reason, he was sure of it.

JJ actually felt pretty good when he crossed into the sand.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Pope announced, to which JJ just nodded.

He began to look around, knowing you were here. He had Pope text Kie to make sure. In hindsight it was a little intensive to Pope, but JJ could make it up to him later.

When he found you, you were sitting on a fallen tree trunk that had sunken into the sand since the last big hurricane knocked it down.

Just seeing you took his breath away, you always did. You didn’t seem real to him, he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve you in his life but he would be forever grateful.

And then, from a distance, he heard you laugh. He should’ve had the forethought to look who you were talking to, but JJ had been so distracted by the sight of you after many days without.

One flick of his eyes to the left and he sucked the air back into his lungs.

Right next to you was John B, sitting too close for JJ’s comfort. The two of you were talking and flirting, probably. JJ had eyes, he could see the way his friend was looking at you.

He swallowed, forcing himself to look away.

He didn’t see the point in watching any longer, a sour feeling was already building in his gut. Then, shocking even himself, JJ did something he had a hard time doing all his life.

He walked away.

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, just an ask or reply to lmk 🫶

The blue taglist: @empath-bunny @juniebugg @lashay28 @redhead1180 @mariaeirhnh @wearemadeofstardust0 @obxwatcherficreader @echobx @rafeinterlude @rubixgsworld @niyahnotnia

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x you #step brother!jj maybank #step brother!!jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #stepbrother!jj maybank #step bro!jj maybank #outer banks #obx #the blue #quin-ns writing

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Portrayal of Betrayal

Author's Note: Y'all gave me Black Templar Brain wars >:|. So I made yet another Space marine oc. Give a shout if y'all wanna use him. Also, tag me so I can read and reblog your stuff if you do. This is a long chapter. over 2k.

Summary: Ramiel has a Bad Time, almost dies, and wakes up. Traitors are to die.

Warnings: Black Templar Shenanigans, major character death, abusive relationship, abuse of power, cannon typical violence, Black Templars TM , let me know if I need to add more.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @kit-williams, @sleepyfan-blog,

Tagged Again: @sleepyfan-blog and @whorety-k

Ramiel, like many of his general of Primaris marines is highly honored, and more than a little nervous when he is informed of his assignment, he is to become a member of the Honorable Black Templar Chapter, as a proud son of Dorn, he and his battle brothers ask their Utramarine First Born Cousins what their Chapter brothers are like and listen as they are described as dutiful, loyal, proud, stubborn, and fierce warriors. One of the other Ultramarines also murmurs something about certain unsavory traits about them, and gets a glare from the first Ultramarine that had the other quiet down.

As he and the other Primaris Marines meet and settle in with their First-Born Battle Brothers of the Black Templars, at first, the elder brothers don't seem to know what to make of them, some are hostile, some are curious, and all of them are carefully watched and monitored. Ramiel has great pride that Cedric- a brother who he's been helped by, and worked with before, got chosen as an Apprentice to one of the most Important and Eldest of the Apothecary First Born Battle Brothers of the entire Black Templar legion.

Ramiel hopes that he will gain a mentor, and does his best to do his tasks, whether it is missions, or chores to help maintain their ships and other things. As months go by Ramiel’s hearts are heavily burdened as so many of his fellow Primaris Marines have fallen, in battle, due to missions that were... well, he's not one to argue against a person in authority over him. He's been beaten enough, and remembers the lessons that were given to him by the Mechanicum, and the Black Templar elder brothers are eager to maintain discipline and punish them, justly, for their wrongdoings and sins.

He's glad that he's able to get patched up by one of his fellow Primaris Apothecary brothers, at least some of the time, sometimes they are not allowed to help patch them up after a flogging or other sort of punishment, left to heal with their own regenerative powers, and rations are one of the longer-term methods of punishment they are given. So he's surprised, honored and a little hopeful and honestly, more than a little shocked, and he hopes that the God Emperor will forgive him, afraid, when one of the harsher, and much stricter Black Templar Chaplains has decided to take Ramiel on as an apprentice.

He's worried and nervous, he's not been trained as a Chaplain and he accepts the Mentorship, before nervously telling him that he's just a battle brother. Honorable Veteran Black Templar Chaplain Mephisteil Petras has chosen him in particular. The First-Born Space Marine informs him that as his mentor, he'd be teaching him how to do the tasks and duties of a Chaplain. Ramiel bows his head and accepts the honor and new duties to be assigned to him. Following after Chaplain Mephisteil two steps back and to the left as requested by his new mentor.

It's hard, learning the duties of a Chaplain, and one of the first duties that he's ordered to do is to help with the punishment of several Primaris Black Templars, to go over their sins and help them purge themselves of their shame with use of whip and words. Traitorously his lips tremble, and he's grateful that no one can see it, and he hides his flinch by heading over to grab the punishment whip. The words lodge hot, hard and heavy in his throat, which has become dry and it feels like his eyes are burning.

He has a couple of false starts before Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras snaps at him to "Stand up straight like a real Marine."

He snaps to attention and snaps a salute. "Yes Sir!"

"Now," The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras says, "Recite their sins and punishments abom- boy."

"Yes Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras," Ramiel says, thankful that his voice doesn't crack or croak. He takes in a deep breath and reads the three Primaris brothers the scroll that contained what they had done, and the punishments that they were going to be receiving and after that there is silence.

"Abmon- Boy! Get the whip." The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras demands of him.

He nods to his mentor, the Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras and grabs the whip, "Have them count out the strokes of the whip."

"Yes sir," Ramiel replies as his throat seems to constrict and it feels like it's become harder and harder to breath.

He snaps the whip a couple of times, the crack and sound of it has them all flinching minutely, but not enough that The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras does not notice and snarls at them for it. Ramiel would also be getting a flogging after this for being so slow to obey his superior officer and mentor. Ramiel mentally apologizes to his fellow Primaris brothers as he starts to whip them, the words he's been taught to tell them as the whistling sound of the whip, the sound of their flesh, and their voices counting the whip marks.

Slowly, yet all at once he as to continue to whips them at the proper pace, to slow and he will get more time added to his flogging, to fast and he will hurt them more than he should, and his punishment for not properly doling out punishment will be worse. Slowly, and all at once he has finished whipping his fellow Primaris Marines. His nerves are screaming at him. He wants to apologize for harming them, yet he locks the words behind his teeth. The punishment he gets for that, and he only did it just the once when he was ordered to Punish Cedric had been... well...

He was blessed with the regenerative powers of a Primaris Marine, which is significantly faster and he's much hardier than a First Born, much to the scowl he got from his mentor The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras. He can't even try to go find them later to apologize, for his mentor The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras has eyes on him at all times, and the punishment he got for trying to apologize after the fact, and trying to do so out of sight and eyes (not that it worked) of their First-Born brothers had also been a test of his body's healing capabilities.

Ramiel hoped that, with time, and showing his dutiful, diligence and obedience, that hopefully The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras and the other Chaplains, and other First Born Space Marines of the Black Templar Chapter would slowly start to trust them. He has seen how warm, affectionate and caring they can be towards their fellow first born space marines. But there must be something wrong with him, and his fellow Primaris Marines that they are treated so coldly and harshly. But he holds out hope that someday, somehow, some way, they will be able to have that easy trust and affection, or barring that, be good enough that they were no longer given such harsh, and swift punishments for even the smallest of infractions.

Infractions that usually their First-Born brothers do not get punishments for, or if they do, not as harshly as the Primaris Marines do. Perhaps, it is because they are so much younger and new than their elder brothers? That they want to instill good habits and proper behaviors? Oh, he so dearly hopes that's the case. His mentor The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras, among a larger number of First-Born Space Marines have started to get more agitated recently over the years. He's noticed that, and while he's sent a message or two to his fellow Primaris Marines, has no idea how to bring it up or address it with The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras, without offending or upsetting the other sooner.

He gets a vox call from The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras, "Sir? Apprentice Chaplain Ramiel speaking."

"Abomin- Boy, come to me, I need to speak with you about something," The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras snarls at him.

He flinches, "yes sir, I'm headed to your coordinates."

Ramiel wonders what has put his elder brother and mentor into such a foul mood, and dreads what the potential answer could be. Even as he braces himself for likely more rounds of justified punishment for infractions, he did not know he had done until The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras informs him of them. He sends a message to Cedric, who's awake and on the same ship as him. Just as a warning about the mood that The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras is in.

He is sure and swift in his movements as he heads towards where The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras and several the more... irascible and mistrusting of the first-born black Templars are.

"I have arrived, The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras," He says snapping a salute.

"Abomination," The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras and his hearts sink to his chest and his throat feels like its closing, "For the crime of existence I, The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras, have decided that you shall cease living."

"Bu- Mentor, H-Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras," He stutters out moving backwards a little, "I-I'm a loyal Black Templar of the Chapter... I'm not an abom-"

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off as he dodge the blow he recieved from The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras, who charged him. As a Primaris Marine, they are fast, stronger, and have a higher mental processing speed. He continues to dodge and weave, not attacking back as more of the First-born Space Marines go after him. He knows that they will hit him, and they do, he is only one and they are half a dozen strong.

"Foul Abomination, thy existance will be purged and our chapter restored!" The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras roars at him.

Ramiel continues to dodge and tries to speak with him- with the other First Born Black Templar Battle brothers that are slowly trying to encircle and cut off his mode of retreat. They and The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras are starting to get past his guard and one of the systems pings a warning and sends a distress signal off to the nearest Apothecaries that he was wounded. He was starting to get far more badly wounded.

"What did I do wrong mentor? I have only ever tried to heed your words, Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras, and be a good, obedient mentee," He hears a familiar voice cry out and he turns to see Cedric staring at him and the group of First-Born Marines in shock, a medic's kit in hand.

Ramiel notices The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras, his mentor swerve to try and strike out at Cedric. With a burst of speed he runs and blocks the blow- unfortunately where it lands, the chainsaw sword strikes him a lethal blow as Cedric desperately grabs him Ramiel manages to murmur something to Cedric as blood spills from his lips.

"I'm sorry, sir, whatever it was that I did to deserve this, please don't take it out on my brothers." He apologizes as blood bubbles from his lips. It feels nice, paradoxically to be in the arms of one his brothers, it’s been so long since he’d been held, even if Cedric is trying to keep him upright.

He closes his eyes, as his vision grows dark, and feels blood flowing rapidly out of his wounds. He wakes up with a pained gasp and blinks. Treacherous tears are blinding his eyes as he blinks rapidly. He is alive. Ramiel, somehow, survived what had felt like a killing blow. He jolts as he tries to get up to find Cedric or The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras, and the other First-Born Marines to Attack him, upon his command, of course. He pulls of his helmet and buries his face in his hands as he shakes and allows himself to feel, just for a moment or two before he scrubs is face clean of salted water and puts on his helmet as he gingerly gets up.

He looks around, a frown forming on his face, he doesn't recognize the flora and fauna of this place. As he looks up to the night sky, the stars aren't something he recognizes either with jolt of unease. He has many questions that he has no answers for. And he will need to find a way back to... back to his brothers. He ignores the way that had his body flinching and curling in on himself. Coward. He hisses at himself, he's an apprentice chaplain, honored to have been chosen by The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras.

He needs to find out where he is and how he got here and how to get back to The Sigismund. He finds a stream of fresh water, that is flowing fast enough, and after a cautious test, is clean enough to drink from and he does so gladly. The water is bitingly cold, which helps further ground him in the here and now as he ruthlessly squashes the thoughts and questions that run amok in his mind. He puts his helmet back on and continues to wander the forest, which is lovely, and filled with bird song and the rustling leaves of the trees that sway in the wind.

One of the things that Ramiel doesn't know, is that his death at the hands of the First-Born Black Templars had started the overt schism within the Black Templars, between the ones who viewed the Black Templars as Abominations to be purged, and the first born (who found them to be useful) and the Primarus Marines who didn't want to die and were not abominations against His Imperial Majesty. They had been created upon the orders of Him on Terra, created and raised on Mars for the majority of their training before The Imperial Regent in all his wisdom had decided to have them sent out to reinforce the various chapters of the Space Marine Chapters.

But that is something he doesn't know yet, simply that his mentor, The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras, had thought him something to kill. He notices movement and hides in the shadow of a massive tree when he spots three or four base line human children running around and playing in a camp site, with the adults talking to one another amiably as the kids played nearby. They looked so happy, which both soothed and hurt something inside Ramiel that he couldn't understand for some reason as he watched them, entranced.

Keeping very still and shrinking back further when he noticed some of the adults glancing his way. He doesn't think they saw him, otherwise they likely would call back the children and leave the area. One of the children notices something and shrieks with emotion, and runs towards- oh no. Oh child no! He spots a couple of Chaos Marines and growls softly. The child is not at fault for not realize that wasn't an Angel of the God Emperor, but a Scummy traitor.

He pulls his blade shifts his body and, despite his wounds Charges towards the Chaos Marines with a bellow, getting in-between the child and the Chaos Marines who swear and pull back as he growls at the Chaos marines, “Scum and Filth to be purged. You Heretics shall die by my hand! Child- run back to your parents and leave this place.”

#this is the fault of people who have been giving me Black Templar OC brain warms >:\ #warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #warhammer #adeptus astartes #black templar #black templar oc #oc: Ramiel #major character death #abuse of power #abusive relationship #cannon typical violence

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 23.

Summary: A conversation between you and Oliver as you both try to distract yourselves from thinking about the day behind, and the night ahead.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

A/N: 2957 words. i split the henrys dinner into two parts because the dinner itself was very different tonally to the conversation with oliver that needed to be had i think. this part is sfw but the next part Will Definitely Not Be :) also im putting more gratuitous shakespeare mentions because i love characters pointing out their own narrative parallels. i feed off of the lovely comments y'all leave, so if you have any thoughts you'd like to share, i always love to hear them!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

No matter what you wore, these formal events made you feel like you were choking.

Oliver finds you in the shared bathroom a few hours before dinner began, already dressed and agitatedly fussing with your collar in the mirror. Spotting him in the reflection, your scowl doesn't clear, but you do start vocalising the thoughts that had been running through your head.

"Lady Daphne has three children, all under fifteen."

"What?" Oliver, still looking entirely casual in sharp contrast to you, leans against the sink, watching you with interest.

"Tonight; the woman next to you who isn't Ven, she has three children under fifteen, their names are -" squeezing your eyes closed tightly, willing yourself to remember, you swear with frustration as the children's names elude you. You'd managed to find and memorise Henry of Suffolk's children's names - Henry Jr and Charlotte - but you're again feeling like it's not enough. Your collar feels too tight.

Unbuttoning your top button for what must be the fifth time in the past half hour of your indecision, you groan with frustration.

"Are you okay?" Oliver asks carefully, to which you try and waive off his concern. Clearly, it doesn't work, considering he's making his way over to you to rest a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"I'm fine, it's fine," you tried again, though it still comes out with clear irritation. Closing your eyes again you try and calm yourself enough to focus, "I saw their names the other night in my notes, I know this," you hissed under your breath, "Lady Daphne and Lord Henry; he's Sir James' godson and his own sons are named..." you wrinkled your nose, braced against the counter, "they're fucking French names, I know this!"

"Are Lady Daphne and Lord Henry French?" Oliver asks.

"No, they're just pretentious," you bit out, though suddenly it came to you, "Regis, Gabriel, and Louis." A grin lights up your face at that; the tension leaves you for the moment in the wake of your small victory. You feel like you can breathe again. Oliver gives you a hesitant smile, at least glad to see you're feeling better for having finally remembered. Breathing a relief sigh, you turn to him properly, "how are you, Ollie?"

"Should I remember Regis, Gabriel, and Louis at dinner?" He asks with faint hesitancy. You shrugged.

"I'm sure it couldn't hurt," logically you knew your own anxious preparations were often too detailed for what the night would actually require, but if you had information that could help ease Oliver into this world to which he was unaccustomed, you'd offer whatever you could to make him feel prepared.

But when he asks if you want to stay with him while he gets himself ready for the evening, you still find yourself hesitating.

Farleigh had found you that afternoon as you'd been coming back in from your gardening; he looked more than a little irritated, but refused to explain his mood. There was something unusually guarded about him at the time, something almost bordering on reproachful in the way he looked at you.

As your heart sank with realisation, you tried to find a way to explain to him everything that had happened between you, Felix, and Oliver. The tricky part of it all would most certainly be reassuring him that you believed him entirely, while also figuring out a way to explain why you'd given Oliver another chance despite knowing he was lying to you and Felix. There was no way you'd be able to explain yourself in this moment, and Farleigh seemed to realise this too.

"If you have something to say to me," Farleigh told you tersely, glancing over his shoulder where you could both hear Felix chattering loudly to Oliver down another corridor, "if you can bare to tear yourself away from your darling, little Iago," he spits, and you sighed deeply, expression clearly showing your disappointment, which Farleigh paid no mind to, standing to his full height and fixing his cool gaze upon you, "you know where I'll be."

So now, here you were, after almost an hour trying and failing to distract yourself by skimming through Shakespeare's Othello since Farleigh's latest cruel nickname for Oliver had reminded you of it, you'd decided to bite the bullet and get yourself ready. Really you should head over to Farleigh's room and sort things out with him, talk everything through and smooth it all over, but Oliver looks so helpless at the mere thought of what tonight would require. You tell yourself you can always talk to Farleigh later.

The afternoon eases itself into early evening with far less tension than the middle of the day had brought with it. Simply being in Oliver's company does wonders for your nerves. Even if talk between you is limited, the silence is not uncomfortable; Oliver gets himself ready, and you continue to skim the play while splayed out on Oliver's bed, and the duvet that used to be yours, easing each other's anxieties in quiet parallel.

You're looking for a quote you half remember from when you'd studied the play back in high school, a line that would be all too fitting of an offer to Farleigh when you saw him next, picking up on his allusion while trying to assure him you weren't just blindly believing Oliver over him - there.

I am not merry; but I do beguile The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.

You keep the text open on the bedspread before you as Oliver asks you questions about the unspoken scripts that you all must follow throughout the night. There's something like vindication that wells up within you when you realise how easy you find it to talk him through them.

"Do you always wear suits to these things?" Oliver asks carefully in the intimate moment in which you stand before him, doing up the cuffs of his dress shirt.

"The Henrys dinners? Yes," you nod, nimble fingers dancing against the fabric by his wrist. An amused smile makes it's way across your lips as you explain without even really thinking, "the first and last time I wore a cocktail dress to a Henrys dinner I made one of them, Henry Rochester I think, very uncomfortable," you smirked at the memory, and though Oliver's glad to see you're more smug rather than uncomfortable about the memory, he still doesn't quite seem to understand why.

"Because you're...?"

"Technically yes," you huffed a laugh, letting go of the first cuff to do the second, "because he now gets hard thinking about me in a dress and he doesn't know how to feel about it, and I don't want to deal with that." For a moment, the words simmer in the air between you both, and you finish up with the second cuff, stepping back with a pleased little smile. Oliver, however, still seems to be confused, and finally you acquiesce, giving him the final piece of the story;

"It was a very nice dress, Henry was just so bloody wasted he forgot I was the one wearing it when he couldn't see my face when he walked in on Fi and I in the wine cellar decided to stick around and watch with his dick in his hand," you shook your head dismissively at the memory, rolling your eyes but still grinning, "which isn't our fault, it's our wine cellar, he's the one getting drunk and going for a roam on someone else's estate."

It startles a laugh out of Oliver, the sound bright and sharp as his hand comes up reflexively to cover his mouth. Your expression scrunches up, pleased at the sound. In the few moments that follow, you straighten out Oliver's collar as he's giggling to himself, watching you from behind his hand with warmth and something almost adoring.

"I should show you some time," you wet your lips, crossing your arms as you gave him a leering look over, your intentions obvious. Oliver flushes a little, smiling under your gaze.

"The dress?"

"The wine cellar," you corrected, making Oliver laugh once more.

"You sure you're not going to get me drunk and brick me in down there?" He asked, and your eyebrows rose at the unexpected reference to Poe's Cask of Amontillado. At your obvious surprise, Oliver gives a half smile, reminding you that you'd left a book of Poe's work in the drawer by his bed. He'd read it? You're not sure why you're so touched by that, but you are.

"If we end up drunk in the wine cellar, I promise I won't be leaving you alone down there," there's a surprising amount of affection in your voice for what is ultimately some pretty on the nose flirting, but Oliver seems to appreciate it nonetheless.

When you return from your own room with a pair of cufflinks for him, however, his expression is pensive as he's sitting on the edge of the bed, flicking through the copy of Othello you'd left there.

"Thought my party had something to do with the Midsummer Night's Dream one," he says with faint confusion. You've already got the line you'd found earlier memorised, so you're not concerned that he's flicking through, losing your page in the process.

"No, it is, it's just Farleigh -" except you really don't want to tell Oliver exactly what Farleigh had called him, had implied about him with a single, derisive nickname alone. Iago. You shrugged, "he just said something earlier that reminded me of it is all." Then, sitting down beside him, you shoot for a smile, "what are you up to now; tie?"

For a long few moments, Oliver gives you this utterly unreadable expression. You wonder if he knows the play; if he did, he could almost definitely make an educated guess about what Farleigh's comment may have been, especially given the very recent circumstances. Even if you don't know exactly how Oliver would react to something like that, you're not exactly eager to find out.

The moment thankfully does pass without further comment on the play, with Oliver instead standing and heading to the full length mirror by the wardrobe.

"Is your family helping Felix's with paying for Farleigh's uni and stuff?" Oliver asks with genuine curiosity in his voice as he glances at you in the mirror's reflection.

"What?" The question seems to come out of nowhere, and your reaction is entirely genuine.

"I just wondered if that was, you know, part of the reason he was so loyal to you," Oliver shrugged, though there's something almost apologetic in his eyes, "and, I guess, why you knew you could trust him to be so loyal?"

How did he even know the Cattons were helping with Farleigh's education? Your suspicions were with Elspeth, whom you loved despite how much of a gossip she always was, but Oliver admits that Felix had told him about how he and Farleigh were cousins, and Sir James' guilt over his semi-estranged sister, all the way back at Oxford. Ah, makes sense. Part of it was probably to explain why Farleigh was always hanging around them despite his obvious distaste for Oliver. It takes you a beat to compose your thoughts; knowing both Oliver, and Farleigh, you had to be deliberately sure of whatever information you shared in this moment.

"I'd give Farleigh anything if he asked," you admitted, wearing a faint, sad little smile as you recall how coldly he'd looked at you earlier that day, "but he never has," you shook your head, "not about something like that at least. Why?"

Looking over at the mirror, you see Oliver with his tie done up, looking at you in the reflection as though you're a puzzle he's desperately attempting to solve. But, when you smile, he returns the look in kind.

"I think this might just be one of those times where I have to remember you telling me there's more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in my philosophy," Oliver says with a wry smile, and you can't help but laugh at the memory of your first proper conversation with him about your friendship with Farleigh on one of Oxford's many rooves.

"Farleigh is simply one of my best friends; I don't begrudge him his pride, it's part of who he is, and I love who he is," with your warm laughter, the mood in the room has lightened considerably, and you finally stand. Wrapping your arms around Oliver from behind, perching your chin on his shoulder, you take in the sight of you both in the mirror.

"You know, I think you'd look so beautiful in a dress if you ever wanted to wear one," you tell Oliver idly, handing over the box with the little, golden cufflinks that you'd been fidgeting with on the bed.

"Beautiful enough to give an old man a sexuality crisis?" He asked with a blithe grin, pulling out of your grip if only to make his way to the cupboard where his jacket had been hung.

"Oh, undoubtably," you don't even hesitate, sitting yourself in the arm chair by the window, watching him once more.

"Don't know if I could start with a cocktail dress," he says, gazing at himself in the mirror with a pleasantly thoughtful look in his eyes as he genuinely considers the idea. Then, "I think I trust you with this more than I trust me," he gives a suddenly self conscious chuckle, ducking his gaze, fidgeting with the collar of the jacket he was still holding.

"You don't have to start anywhere if you don't want," you assured him faintly, but Oliver's smile is so damn affectionate.

"It's fuckin' impossible to describe the kind of effect you have," he tells you, shaking his head, "if you say I'd look beautiful, all I know is that I think I want to look beautiful, just so long as it's you who's looking at me."

"I feel very lucky sometimes," you give an endeared hum at his words, grinning to yourself, "my beautiful boys." Oliver, jacket now on, freezes. He's turning a delightful shade of red at that, looking like he was trying and failing to fight off a pleased grin. Finally, he meets your gaze in the mirror, "would you let me put together a costume for you, for your birthday?"

"What?"

"It's a costume party after all, could I put together a costume for you? Not a cocktail dress, I promise," you teased, and Oliver finally turned back to you, regarding you with nothing but love and affection.

"You know, sometimes I still can't believe you give me the time of day," the words almost seem to surprise him as they leave his lips. Something in your chest tightens, and you pause, once again caught off guard by Oliver Quick. There's a sweetness to the way he speaks that has butterflies fluttering so strangely in your stomach, "you're so..." he turns the words over in his mind, looking for the correct one, before he finally settles, "you're a dream," he says simply, "I don't think you don't get enough credit."

His words fill the sudden silence of the early evening as he steps towards you, cufflinks in hand, offering them as a silent request for assistance. You agree without even thinking.

In the back of your mind, you hear Farleigh calling Oliver Iago, but you can't bring yourself to care. Yes, Oliver spent enough time around you, observing you, talking to you, being in your space, that he knows exactly what to say and how to say it to endear himself to you. Clearly he's genuinely fond of you, but it's not often he gives you a compliment like this. Everything always so deliberate.

But it feels so fucking good to have someone put in the effort for you, someone other than Felix. Felix had always known how you worked, what songs to sing to make you dance if the whim ever struck him. It almost overwhelms you to realise that Oliver had learned how to hum along to the quiet song your heart sings too.

You wonder if you should tell Oliver that he doesn't need to try and manipulate his way into your life, that you'd already made a place for him here, all he had to do was ask to stay.

"I keep giving you the time of day because I'm very, very vain," you can't bring yourself to face his sincerity with any of your own, or you think you may either start crying, or possibly jump his bones, and it's too close to dinner for either. Instead, you grin from ear to ear, teasing tone letting him know how clearly you were joking, as you fixed the first cufflink to his jacket's sleeve, "and you keep saying lovely things about me."

"Lucky for me then that I don't think I'll ever run out of lovely things to say about you," you'd forgotten just how well Oliver could flirt when he really wanted to. Eyes bright and smile brighter, you can see mischief sparkling in his eyes when you look up, meeting his gaze. You love this boy so much it feels like it hurts at times like this.

"Think that means I should keep you very close by, at all times."

"Very few places I'd rather be, sweetheart."

That beautiful bastard knew exactly what he was doing to you.

Later, out of this space, out of this moment, out of Oliver's arms, you could go back to worrying about the night, about all the lies oscillating around your whole situation, about Felix and Farleigh and Venetia. Later, you'll find yourself thinking that Farleigh may have had far more of a point with Othello than you'd first realised when you read 'one that loved not too wisely, but too well' before you put the text back on the shelf.

Later.

Right now, you let Oliver pull you in for a kiss.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #venetia catton imagine #venetia catton x you #venetia catton x reader #venetia catton x reader x felix catton #head heart hand fic #manic writer

[natimiles]

Im a simple person really, may I request Mitsuki (ikevamp) and a kiss on the hip:3 please and thank you have a lovely day :D!!

Yayyy! Kissing MC is the best! :3

Mitsuki + Hips

Words: 398

Tags: established relationship; no pronouns for reader.

Faint rays of sunlight pass through a crack in the curtains, waking you from your slumber. You barely open one eye to peek at the clock on the wall before closing it again. You don’t want to wake up, but you have to… and you know Mitsuki will wake up soon and make you get up.

You feel her stirring in front of you and pretend to still be asleep. You hear her cute yawning and the rustle of the sheets as she stretches. Soft fingers trace your face, and you fight the smile forming on your lips. Turning around, you mumble something as you pull the blanket to cover almost your entire head.

“I know when you’re already awake,” she whispers, her voice still a little raspy from just waking up. She is more perceptive than you give her credit for sometimes, and it’s both a blessing and a curse. “And I’m sorry to inform you, but we need to get up.”

“Don’t wanna,” you complain. 

She giggles, propping herself up on her elbow to peek over your shoulder and look at your face and the little pout you have. Her fingers caress your arm up and down, and you fight the urge to turn around and kiss her until she forgets about work today.

Mitsuki shifts behind you, and you think she has finally conceded and is just adjusting her position to embrace you better. But then her warmth is gone for a second. You are about to ask her where she is going when you feel something on your hips. It tickles when she blows on your skin, and you squirm lightly, laughing as you turn to look at her.

“That was to help you wake up,” she chuckles mischievously.

She leans down again, and this time you feel her teeth scraping your skin. Then she places a kiss against your hips, and you reach for her hair, gently brushing it away from her face. She smiles, and you can’t resist, tugging at her arm and making her lie back down, hugging her tight.

“And what was that for?”

“Because some vampires were lurking too close to you yesterday.”

“Oh, really? Then I think I have the right to do the same. There were some vampires lurking around you too.”

You kiss her hips multiple times, tickling her and making her laughter fill the bedroom.

Taglist: @bicayaya @koco-coko @yamarireads @judejazza @echoes-in-the-forest

@chandeliermichel @fang-and-feather @sh0jun @scummy-writes

Beneath The Milky Twilight ♥ Event Masterlist

#beneath the milky twilight event #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp writings #ikevamp scenarios #ikevamp fanfics #ikevamp mc #ikevamp mitsuki #ikevamp x reader #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp mitsuki x reader #ikevamp mc x reader

[ironunderstands]

Would be waiting for acheron brainrot ramble here

Is it time for Acheron brainrot ramble? It’s time for Acheron brainrot ramble. Prepare for the most stream of consciousness post ever, I had so much fun writing this she has taken over my consciousness and puppeted me for my own ends, and commanded me to demonstrate how peak she really is. So enjoy, hopefully I can get others to love Acheron just as much as I do.

I think there are three reasons why I like Acheron 1) she’s really fucking cool 2) I love characters who guide/mentor others 3) She’s charming as hell.

Hoyo you aren’t allowed to make characters this good.

The music in her trailer, her aesthetic, the amount of fire fucking one liners. THE COLOR RED (I’ll get into it)

“Find me, your end, my origin.” Who cooked here who wrote this who’s the chef please where’s the restaurant I’m eating this up

“On the still waters of oblivion, I guide the wandering souls” GRAHAJDJWJKSSW YES YOU DO OH MY GOD I CANT PUT INTO WORDS HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS LINE SHUT UP EVERYONE SHUT UP. Like she literally is at the edge of existence fighting to help others find their future, I just. RAAAA

SHE CUTS A BLACK HOLE IN HALF?? HUHH AUGHH a black hole that’s the manifestation of meaninglessness in the universe, and she goes “nah” and fucking obliterates it?!!?

“I weep for the departed” Those who have died are gone, and slowly losing themselves even further. For decades, centuries, millennia, even, Acheron has witnessed this, and still cries for them, still guides them to the other side, even if the task itself is meaningless, because someone should do it, someone has to do it, and that someone is HER.

She saves Aventurine, she saves the Trailblazer, she saves the entirity of Penacony. Someone blessed by the manifestation of nonexistent dedicates her life to giving others a reason to live.

Aventurine asks her why people should bother living, if the dice are always weighted in a certain outcome, then why should we keep going? Aventurine asks her why people should bother living if the universe is meaningless?

He fully expects her to say people shouldn’t.

But Acheron doesn’t do that. The dice are weighted against us. Not just in game, but in reality itself. We will all die, you will die, the people you care about will die, I might die, it remains to be seen. However, before that inevitable ending, before the curtain finally closes, we have so many choices to make. If the ending is the same for everyone, it doesn’t matter, and Acheron tells Aventurine this.

Because the Nihility envelops everyone equally, the universe is equally meaningless for everyone, nobody is the special someone destined to have a destiny. Therefore, it doesn’t matter. Aventurine has no reason to live. And Aventurine has no reason not to live. She tells him his time hasn’t come, because it hasn’t. Until that dice roll, until his final breath, Aventurine can still make choices and he can still choose to live for himself, and that’s the answer Acheron gives him.

But she knows that’s not enough. Aventurine will still struggle to live for himself, after all he’s been through, after the mountain of expectations and hopes and dreams piled onto him. So she tells him his friend has already given him the answer. Aventurine pulls out the note written by Dr. Ratio. It doesn’t give him a plan, doesn’t inform him of what expectations he has for him, doesn’t list every single reason why Aventurine should keep going. Ratio tells Aventurine to stay alive and keep on living, because he doesn’t need anything more than that, there isn’t anything more than that. Her caring about Aventurine, Ratio caring about Aventurine, that’s enough to keep him going, because other peoples love is enough of a reason to exist, universe be damned.

existing. The Existence. AKSJAKKSNDKKWEN.

Like you don’t understand, you don’t understand. ACHERON IS ENVELOPED IN THE MEANINGLESSNESS OF THE UNIVERSE BEFORE SHE FINDS ITS EXISTENCE, ITS VALUE, ITS MEANING. Even if it can never be achieved, Acheron is willing to destroy herself completely as she walks farther and farther into the Nihility trying to find the Existence, even if it takes every from her she will find it. Only by giving up her existence can Acheron find the Existence and kill the Nihility. Only by sacrificing her own life and giving up her own meaning can she give it to others.

Red. She tells the trailblazer that when they can no longer see the world in anything but black and white, there will be a brief flash of Red for them.

Red is the Existence. Red is the color of her blade that allowed her to cut that black hole in half. Red is the only color left when she unsheathes her sword. Red is the color of the tears she cries. Red is the color of the words she speaks to us that truly matter.

Red is the color she cuts into reality. In a world of black and white, in which all the light has been swallowed by IX, and the path ahead is blurry, Acheron illuminates the universe’s future in bright red, creating color, creating life, creating Existence in a world devoid of it.

We will encounter the Nihility along our journey, just as we would encounter every other aeon. The world will seem meaningless, and it will be devoid of color, but when the Trailblazer needs it the most, there will be Red. A reason to keep going, a reason to exist, a reason to keep on Trailblazing, because the path of the Trailblaze’s end is also at the Existence, and we will meet Acheron there again. Whether that color will come from us or her remains to be seen, but it will be there for us when we need it.

However, I think we/the Trailblazer will be alone. As that flash of red isn’t the only thing Acheron tells the Trailblazer.

Only when left alone can people pick themselves up. Only when help is absent can people truly fight for themselves. Only when you are alone, can you truly understand your existence.

That doesn’t mean other people don’t matter, that you have to walk the world alone, that you can only exist devoid of others. Quite the opposite actually, other people can be your reason to exist, something to help keep you going. Acheron knows this, which is why she directs Aventurine to Ratio’s note. That’s the meaning he can find in a meaningless universe.

Moreover, people help each other, they provide the tools other people need to exist, the anchors that ground people in reality, the reason why you might want to wake up in the morning, they create the things and ideas that you need and enjoy. It’s when you are ripped of these comforts, stripped of the things that make you want to keep going, is when people fight for their existence. As in a world devoid of everything, can you truly appreciate the things you have, and acknowledge that since there is now nothing, you are the only something. When there is no one there to save them, fools pick themselves up, and that is Existence.

I love Acheron. I love her silly amnesiac tendencies, I love her beautiful design, I love that she’s a Mei counterpart, but most of all, I love what she stands for.

Acheron is the indomitable human spirit personified, she quite literally chooses to exist in the face of absolute nothing. When the world loses all color, does she paint reality in a bright red with her sword, writing her own destiny with each and every slash.

And for that, I will always adore her.

#honkai star rail #hsr #acheron hsr #acheron #hsr acheron #She does not get talked about ENOUGHHH #aventurine #dr ratio #Aventio somehow made it in here I’m sorry #Not my fault she’s their biggest shipper ok? #But like god #Nobody appreciates her like I do #Yall ignored the coolest fucking character in the game and I will never forgive you for that #SHE OWNS A COLOR!!! A COLOR!! ITS HERS!! I WILL NEVER SEE RED THE SAME #“she’s not that cool” incorrect don’t care didn’t ask yes she is don’t give a damn if another franchise did it better bc they didn’t #idk how you feel about Hoyo but the pen was on fire when writing her #Peak trio #Acheron and Ratio need to meet too or I will die #Bc there philosophies are so similar #ask me anything #i love answering them #i hope you like it

[dollypopup]

"Colin should have grovelled more!" "Penelope folded too easily"

I think statements like this typically come from people who like Penelope. . .but don't really understand her. And don't really understand just why she cares for Colin, and just why him groveling would not in any way bring her peace.

Penelope and Colin are kindred spirits in their loneliness, in season 3 more than any others. Penelope had lost her friendship with Eloise, and Colin didn't really have a close friend circle to begin with. Except with Pen. Pen was the person he could put the mask down for, could open up to, (in particular with their 'dreams' discussion) and that's why he couldn't even entertain the idea of giving up talking to her in Season 2. She is a vital part of his life, and holds so much significance and importance to him.

I imagine that's what made their silence over his travels especially painful for him. They spent such a long time talking after Season 1, and he even informs her that her letters were so encouraging, that it helped him heal something inside of himself. That if she could see him in a gentle way. . .so could he. (And he repays this, because he is honest to god out here acting and looking at her like she hung the moon in the sky). But without her presence in his life, he spiraled. Didn't feel confident in being who he is, and thus put on his persona more firmly. We know this because he wrote in his journal that "I want to be less needy, less insecure, while still maintaining the core of my vulnerability that makes me who I am". That he misses his family, that he misses home.

And we know, from the books, that Home? Home is Penelope. Penelope is his North Star, is his guiding force, and who I argue he feels he needs. In his very first scene, he looks toward her house, tries to find her in the window. When he does not, he returns to his family. In the outdoor gathering, he looks for her and finds her, eager to talk. He states aloud that he misses her, and I imagine he wrote it, too. Not hearing back from her over the course of his travels was surely something that hurt him, but he doesn't hold any ill will toward her for it, only wants to reconnect again. In fact, the one and only time he brings up how he misses her and that she didn't respond, she makes very clear the reason why: she heard what he said and it hurt her. And he's ashamed of it.

Colin hears her call him cruel, and instead of ruffling his feathers about it, instead of getting upset, instead of having a chip on his shoulder as I feel so many men would about it. . .he understands why she does so.

Penelope is a woman who has been largely treated poorly in her society. She feels unheard, she feels undesired, and in her circumstances, and I can't help but ask myself. . .has anyone ever truly apologized to Penelope for hurting her, before? Her mother? Her sisters? Eloise, likely, but. . .anyone else? And the way Colin did? Because of all the characters in the show, Colin? Colin knows how to apologize. He has a lot of practice in it. And very importantly: Colin, a man of privilege in his society, apologizes. . .predominately to women. To Marina, to his mother, and multiple times to Penelope.

Ultimately, Penelope wants to be heard, Penelope wants to be understood, Penelope wants to feel desired.

And Colin checks every single one of those boxes. He informs he is not who he was before, and then he proves it to her. He hears that he hurt her, and he comments on it directly. An entire night apart, and he comes back to her 'Because I embarrass you' with 'I am most certainly not ashamed of you', replies to her 'I am a laughingstock' with 'you are clever, and warm, and I am proud to call you my good friend'. He hears her proclaim her own insecurities, and empathizes so deeply with her. He listens. He understands. He makes clear that he cares for her, and that she *is* desired. 'You lift my spirits' 'I seek you out at every social assembly'. That she helps him see the world in ways he loves, that he sees HER and how much she has cared for HIM, that she makes him feel appreciated, that he appreciates her, in turn.

And then? Then? He shows her. He tells her, and he shows her. His actions all throughout Season 3 reinforce this apology. He continues looking for her in every corner of every ballroom, he continues complimenting her, he laughs at her jokes and respects her boundaries, he is ever so gentle with her, he listens to her with an attentiveness that no one else has ever given her. To Lady Whistledown? Sure. But to Penelope? Who else in the entirety of that ton has listened to Penelope the way Colin has?

Absolutely no one.

Penelope Featherington ghosts Colin Bridgerton for months with no explanation, and Colin comes back wanting to reach out to her, and she finally tells him why.

And he apologizes. Because he listens. Really, truly listens. And really truly cares.

I need you to understand how rare that is, even nowadays, but especially back then. That Colin is the kind of man who can put his hurt to the side and realize he made a mistake, that he said something callous, and he adores her, and he can't lose her, and he has to see her and make it right.

Because that's why Penelope fell for Colin. Not because he's beautiful, not for his charm, not for his family. But for his heart. Because he shows her kindness in a world that so often disregards her. Because he seeks her out and tries to understand her, truly hears what she has to say and compliments her, says he's sorry and looks at things from her perspective.

Because he saw her when she was invisible.

Penelope Featherington, who grew up in a house that made cruel jabs at her, has Colin Bridgerton come to her and say he regrets what he said, and that he was wrong, and that he understands why she's mad at him. Penelope Featherington who has so rarely had much of anyone tell her that they're sorry for what they said about her, sits before Colin Bridgerton as he professes how much she means to him. That he cannot even spend a full day away from her knowing they're on bad terms with each other without making it right. That he sees how she is hurting and he has to in any way he can amend it. She is lonely, with no one really in her corner at the start of season 3, and she feels like she lost it all, and Colin comes to her and says 'no, I'm here and I appreciate you and you are special to me, please let me in and let me prove it'. Is it any wonder why after she shakes his hand, she stands in the sun, and she feels the warmth of it, she can smile? That she can breathe, again? That she can be truly content for the first time in the season?

Because Penelope Featherington does not want Colin to beg. She knows him. She knows the tender, full heart he hides behind the new cavalier persona. She knows the soft underbelly of Colin Bridgerton.

He never had to grovel. All he had to do was love her. Assuredly. Fervently. Loudly. Unapologetically.

And he does.

#polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #bridgerton #sorry y'all i just have a lot of feelings and i need to get them out like they invented love what am i meant to do witH THAT INFORMATION!? #they just care about each other so much and so deeply #and they see the best in each other #penelope was hurt but she never HATED him #penelope was hurt and when she said 'i never thought you of all people could be so cruel' she also knew. . .he isn't #he isn't cruel #he's a young man trying his best in the world and he wanted to fit in and that made him say something hurtful about her #but he has a history of uplifting her #and he continues to do so #not one bad word about penelope all this season #'you are penelope featherington. . .never forget that' (you deserve the world) (you are amazing) #colin bridgerton said 'i love you' over and over this season and in the seasons before but we didn't hear it because we thought #it was only professed in one language #'you really are very good you know that?' 'you only wanted to keep me from heartache' 'what could possibly measure up to all that?' #'that you would never forsake me' 'you are pen. . .you are my friend. . .you do not count' (i could never give you up) #'i will always look after you penelope' #they are friends to lovers but there is love in that friendship #a deep beautiful love they have with each other #and sorry i'm ugly crying but i just adore them

[writerpetals]

all you have to do is ask | ❤️

; optional male lead fluff |  ☁️

He’s the cutest when he smiles. Your heart feels as if it will pound right out of your chest when you’re the reason for his grin flashed your way in the middle of studying the outline of the report you’re writing up while staring at a blinding screen for far too long. He chuckles any time you make a simple mistake, and his eyes wrinkle and his nose scrunches before he corrects your error with a soft tone and more patience than you ever expected.

He’s not your boss, and not even the supervisor of the department, but he has been in charge of helping new hires at the office you began working at a few months prior. Though, what should have been only a week of getting you settled in and set up with your workload, tasks, and anything else the head of the department likes to throw on his workers last minute has turned into him keeping a close eye on you in case you need a little extra assistance.

“Just until you get the hang of things,” he promises, but by now you have a hard time believing it, and even sometimes you find yourself hoping it’s just an excuse to get closer to you. 

You should feel a bit embarrassed he’s always coming to your aid when you forget an attachment or pointing out corrections before your supervisor notices, but it’s hard to turn away his help when his smiles make your heart flutter and his kindness makes it so easy to play the part of clumsy or forget new employee. 

“Did you remember to e-mail the updates on your latest report?” he asks while walking past your desk to make his way to the copy machine, a stack of papers in hand and a grin on his lips because he already knows the answer. “It’s important!”

“I, uh, I’ll get right on that!” you inform him, immediately clicking away to pull up your contacts on your computer as the heat rushes to your face for being so forgetful. “Thanks!” 

You hear his chuckle even after he’s passed, but you’re thankful he’s observant enough to keep you in line, wondering if he’s the same way with all of your other co-workers. Maybe you’re too anxious over making sure you don’t make another mistake he won’t manage to catch, but part of you wishes he isn’t just being nice and helpful to the newest employee. 

“Here, let me get that!” he says, rushing to your side two days later when you have managed to jam the only printer on your entire floor. You step aside, the warmth of embarrassment flooding your cheeks as he rolls up his sleeves and gets to work un-sticking the mess of paper you’ve somehow made.

“Thanks,” you say with a voice so quiet he almost misses it. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I try my best,” he teases, grin wide as ever and your body feeling tingling all over from the sight of him. 

A few weeks pass and you try to handle things on your own, however. Even if you enjoy his help every now and then, you do want to try your best so you don’t end up getting under his skin for his niceness to wear off. You also don’t want it to get around that you’re more trouble than you’re worth, so you leave post-its stuck to your monitor with reminders for all the attachments and e-mails you need to send, scribble down important times and dates of meetings and deadlines on the calendar resting over your desk, and even finish your latest report a day ahead of schedule.

You feel the pride swarming in your chest after a while, and even if you admit that you miss his visits to your desk to check up on you as well as spotting his soft smile or hearing his light-hearted chuckle, it’s nice to feel like you’re not so new and trying to get a grip on even simple tasks. You begin to feel like a member of the team, working hard to please your supervisor, and you even get a quick “good job” from your boss before leaving one afternoon.

Though, the confidence doesn’t last long when you sit down at your desk one morning to prepare to send the latest report to your supervisor, only to find the document wiped clean with no trace of a copy in an existing folder, and no signs of it accidentally being deleted in the recycle bin. Your heart sinks, wide eyes staring at the screen for a few moments as you click away to check every occupied space in your hard drive, stomach twisting as the seconds pass and the report you spent a week working hard on is nowhere to be found. You gulp, and close the document, only to open it once again, spotting a white page with a blinking cursor ready to begin typing. 

You feel as if the air has been sucked from your lungs, knowing you trashed your notes the day before when you thought the report was ready to be sent. How could this happen? How could you be so careless? The doubts flood you over and over as you continue to stare at the screen with a furrowed brow and slacked jaw. 

It’s not until he walks past do you pull yourself from your trance, hearing your name being called in what sounds like a muffled voice once, twice, and three times until you finally snap your gaze in his direction.

“Everything okay?” he asks, curious and concerned and when you don’t reply, he takes a step closer to press his hands to the desk. “What’s wrong?”

Your heart sinks even lower. You were doing so well. You were getting the hang of things, and now the report is gone and due in a day and you have no notes to start over. 

“Yes,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, forcing a smile that his frown insists he doesn’t believe. “Yes, yeah, yup! I… I’m great!” Nervous laughter falls from your lips to have him wrinkling his brow, but he doesn’t push the issue.

“Alright, well, if you need anything…”

“Got it! Thanks.” Your fake smile widens and he hesitates for a moment before walking away.

You can fix this, you tell yourself, trying to calm your nerves while you reach for the small garbage bin next to your desk in hopes that there are a few notes scribbled on paper you tossed the night before. But of course, the trash is always emptied Wednesday nights and there’s a fresh bag greeting you when you look inside.

Huffing, you slump down in your chair, considering spending your morning looking for new jobs because you just know when your report hasn’t arrived by the following morning your boss is going to fire you. Just when you were getting decent paychecks, saving up for a new place to live, planning to get away from your annoying, messy roommate you try to avoid at all costs and hey, maybe even buy yourself a new pair of heels while you’re at it. 

You can’t help but to groan as your head falls to your hands, mentally saying bye bye to that apartment with the view you had your heart set on, immediately feeling sorry for yourself until his words replay in your mind. You know you could ask him for help, but how could he even fix your mistake? Your report is missing, your notes are trashed, and there’s a possibility if you involve him, he could get disciplined for your mistake as well. The last thing you want to do is get the sweet, helpful guy that assisted you more times than you deserved in trouble right along with you. 

Still, you have no other options. He did offer, you tell yourself, rising from your desk on feet that won’t budge until you work up enough courage to move. Your legs begin to shake and you wonder why you’re so worked up in just asking for help. You know you don’t want to be a problem, something annoying to get under his skin. But he did offer, you remind yourself once again. 

It takes you twice as long to make your way to his desk, wishing your knees weren’t shaking so much, praying your heart stops pounding as hard. You spot him with a phone to his ear and a pen in hand, writing down a few things on paper a moment before he notices your presence. He smiles your way and you feel a bit sick to your stomach, as well as a bit disappointed you’ll never witness his smile again once you tell him the news and you’re fired over your mistake.

Bye bye sweet & helpful co-worker. You refrain from pouting while waiting patiently for him to finish his phone call, and it seems as if he speeds up the conversation with his client with a promise to get back to them before placing the phone on the hook with a click.

“Everything okay?” he asks just as before, smile fading when he senses your hesitation, and the fact that your eyes have fallen to the floor because you’re too embarrassed to face him.

“I…” you begin to whisper, seeing him shift his weight from the corner of your eye to turn his chair toward you, “...need help.” When you gather the courage to glance toward him, his brows are raised a bit, and when he stands is when you lower your head once again. 

“With?” he questions with a chuckle, watching you nibble on your bottom lip and shift from one foot to the other. 

“I messed up,” you exhale, closing your eyes for a moment, “big time.” 

“How?” He steps closer before crossing his arms over his chest, and in a wave of overwhelming embarrassment flooding your body in a rush of heat, you blurt out the words in a jumbled sentence, telling him your report was finished, informing him you tossed the notes before heading home the night before, filling him in on your shock to see the whole thing gone when you arrived that morning and even spilling how scared you were to tell him because you didn’t want to get him in trouble as well if he was involved. 

The air has escaped your lungs by the time you’re finished, and he stands, staring, taking it all in as well as the sight of you wide-eyed with your bottom lip trembling, wondering just how hard you’re working to keep yourself together before he offers a simple shrug.

“Okay, let’s take a look,” is all he says, voice calm as ever before he strolls over to your desk while you hurry behind him. He takes a seat  in your chair then straightens his tie, pushes back his sleeves, and concentrates on the computer screen with a few clicks of the mouse. A heaviness settles in your chest and you swear the nausea will get the better of you as you wait for him to do whatever magic he’s planning, and the moment his smile returns to his lips is when a split-second of relief washes over you. “There it is.”

“You found it?!” Rushing to his side, you nearly bump his shoulder trying to get a view of the screen. There you spot the report you had worked so hard on, complete and ready to be sent with only a few seconds of work from him. “Oh my God! I could kiss you!”

Your voice travels a bit farther than you would have liked, earning a few awkward glances from co-workers sitting at their desks nearby while he  chuckles and shakes his head. “Is this what was bothering you?” he asks. “You thought your report was gone forever.”

“Yes, ugh,” you groan, shoulder slumping and head falling. “I was so scared. I just knew I was going to be fired. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Well, for starters,” he tells you, rising from your chair, and you stand straight up to follow his lead, “you should have come to me sooner. Sometimes documents get wiped when the system forgets to automatically save, but you can always find them in the temporary folders.”

“I… should have thought of that. Ugh, I’m so dumb sometimes…”

“You’re not dumb.” Laughter falls from his lips as he shakes his head once again. “We’ve all made mistakes, and we all need help sometimes.”

“You’ve helped me so much since I started. I didn’t want to annoy you.” Your voice lowers as you admit your worries, but he raises a hand to dismiss them away. 

“You could never annoy me, I’m here to help” he tells you, same smile forming over his lips that makes your body weak. “All you have to do is ask.”

“Thanks. You really saved me here.” He nods in understanding before letting you get back to sending your report, but not before you reach for his arm to keep him for a moment. “Can I make it up to you? You’ve really done so much for me, the least I could do is buy you a coffee… or something.” There’s a certain surprise lighting up his eyes you’ve never seen as he looks down at you, pressing his lips together before the corners curl, and he agrees a second later without an ounce of hesitation.

The two of you find yourself at a cafe a few blocks from work after you clock out, where you both have ordered your favorite flavor of tea to drink while sharing a raspberry pastry. You settle for a table near the window to watch the people pass by with their umbrellas beneath a sudden afternoon shower, lucky to have made it on time to keep from getting wet, as well as have an excuse not to leave as quickly. You enjoy each other’s company, making small talk while you slip in a few more thank you’s because you couldn’t be more grateful for his help. He smiles and nods each time, the shyness evident in his face with every sign of your appreciation and somehow it makes talking to him much easier outside of work.

“Maybe I can take you out next time,” he says while chewing on the last bite of the pastry while you sip your tea through a grin. “Somewhere proper like…”

“Like a date?” you ask before you can stop yourself, and he bites his lip for a moment to hide his eagerness.

“Do you want it to be a date?”

“Do you?” He smiles at you answering a question with a question. It’s that same smile that makes you weak in the knees once again, and you’re blurting out words before you even have time to consider what you’re saying thanks to how irresistibly cute you find him. “Because I do.”

His smile widens. Your heart drums wildly in your chest. “Good,” is all he says, “me too.” 

“Well,” you begin, finding a sudden confidence from his words, “if you want a date... all you have to do is ask.”

#bts imagines #nct imagines #got7 imagines #monsta x imagines #stray kids imagines #harry styles imagines #bts scenarios #stray kids scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #svt imagines #bts x reader #stray kids x reader #ateez x reader

[sicktember]

2024 FAQs

(Since tumblr mobile isn't exactly known for its reliability regarding links at the top of the blog.) We made an updated text post of the event's FAQs. There have been no major changes. We just wanted a text post that reflected the Sicktember 2024 event information.

Sicktember 2023-2021 Past Prompts Text Post [Link]

* What is Sicktember?

-Sicktember is a fan-run,  September-long hurt/comfort prompt event focused on sick characters and their caregivers.

* What fandoms can participate?

- Every fandom is welcome to participate, including Original Characters and Original Works!

* When does Sicktember begin?

-The idea is to have a prompt a day for the entire month of September, but that’s more of a guideline than an actual rule.

* Do I have to write all 30 prompts in order to participate?

- Not at all! Don’t feel pressured into writing all 30 prompts. You can write as few or as many as you want. This list is meant to spark inspiration, not cause any undue stress.

* Do I have to write all of the prompts separately or can I combine them?

- You can write all of the prompts in one continuous fic, write them all separately or combine a handful at a time. Do what works for you!  Just, please, specify which prompts inspired your work.

* Do I have to write the prompts in order?

-No. You can write them in whatever order you’d like, but again, please identify which prompts your work is based on.

* Can I combine with prompts from other events?

-As long as the other events you’re participating in are okay with it, so are we! Combine all you’d like!

* I don’t write but I can draw. Can I participate?

-Yes! All types of content creators are welcome to join in the fun.

* What if I don’t finish the prompts by the end of September?

- No problem! Take your time and create at your own pace!  There’s no rush. But also keep in mind that you are not obligated to fill each and every prompt.

* Are there any restrictions?

- There are only two major restrictions. No sexually explicit material and no illegal or non-consensual relationships.

    - No explicit descriptions of sexual encounters (smut/erotica/pornography)

           - Innuendo and passing mentions of sexual encounters are okay. 

    -No romantic relationships between adults and minors, relationships that are incestuous, and/or relationships that are stockholm syndrome based.

            - As a hurt/comfort-focused event, we would like to keep the main focus of this particular event on the sick character and their caregiver/caretaker

 -This also allows us to leave this event open to a broader range of participants.

*What if I want to use one of the prompts to write something that doesn’t fit within the event rules?

 - We understand that inspiration comes from many places and we certainly aren’t here to tell you what you should and shouldn’t write.

 - If your prompt-inspired content is outside of the event’s restrictions, then it is no longer for the event, and it should not be associated with it. At that point, your content is for you, and all of the people who would enjoy it!

     - In this situation, we ask that you please do not use the event tags, submit the content to the blog, or enter the content into the AO3 collection.

*Can dark themes, character death and/or swearing be included in my content?

- there are no rules against the use of heavy subjects or character death or swearing

-All we ask is that you tag your content appropriately so that readers can decide whether or not that’s the kind of content they want to read.

*There aren’t enough alternate prompts for me. Can you add more? Can I add my own?

- If you need additional alternate prompts let us know! We would be happy to discuss the potentiality of adding one or two more if the need to do so becomes apparent.

-You are also welcome to suggest an additional alternate prompt if you have an idea of what you would like to use. However, there is no guarantee that it will be added to the official list.

-But also, please keep in mind that you are not obligated to write thirty prompts. If you find that there are only a few or perhaps only a single prompt on the list that you’re comfortable working with, then that is absolutely fine! No pressure!

* Once the event begins, will projects be collected anywhere?

- Authors who post their work on the Archive of Our Own (AO3) website are welcome and encouraged to add their work to the collection, ‘Sicktember 2024’ 

- Content Creators who post or cross-post on Tumblr are encouraged to use the tag #sicktember 2024 so that others can find and enjoy their work.

*How do I post my work to the collection on Archive of Our Own (AO3)?

-When you create a draft or edit your work, there is a section titled [Associations]

-In the section, you will find a text box labeled [Post to Collections/Challenges]  

-That is where you will type,  Sicktember_2024  (It should auto-fill for you to make a selection. However if it doesn’t, you can type the name of the collection into the bar- exactly as you see it here- and it will still post appropriately.) 

- You can also post to the collection by using the ‘post collection’ button on the top right corner of the Sicktember_2024 collection’s page. 

*Keep in mind that (a) the collection will not be open until September and (b) your work will not be added to the collection until you hit [Post]

* Will you be promoting/featuring completed projects on Tumblr?

You are welcome and encouraged to submit your work for posting on the @sicktember blog.

Your submission should be formatted as follows

- A link to your content (tumblr, ao3, ff.net, wattpad, etc…)

 - The fandom or alternative fandom tag you wish to be included on your submission. (No fandom tag, original work, owl house, m/arvel, c*bra k*i, etc…) ** please limit your fandom tags to 5 or less **

- The prompt you used (the number and the prompt itself)

 - A Summary, description or snippet of your content (not a full fic)

The above-mentioned Information does not have to be in that order, but it does have to be clearly included.

** Important things to keep in mind when submitting:

- We will be posting no more than 10 submissions a day.

- To be posted, your submission must be correctly formatted.

- The correctly formatted submissions we post will be chosen at random.

- Submissions will close one week after the event (Oct. 7)

- We will queue submissions until the inbox is empty

⭐⭐ Please keep in mind that this is one fan-run event among many. If you don’t agree with the above-mentioned parameters, that’s okay! We want you to feel comfortable with the events you choose to participate in. And if that means not participating in this one, that’s okay too! Find one you love. If you can’t, consider creating one of your own!⭐⭐ 

 **If you have any further questions, send an ask to the @sicktember blog or reach out to  @yes-i-am-happyaspie or @obsessionoftheday.

#sicktember #sicktember 2024 #faqs #event faqs #faq #faq post #writing prompts #sickfic prompts #writing event #sick characters #sick character #whump #hurt/comfort #sick character prompt

[rollforfelicity]

release your takesssss

(spoilers for tonight's episode)

personally kinda upset alongside emily that everything she did regarding ruben had no real impact despite all the threads around his regret, and how that seems to communicate that there's no point in talking things out with maryann. holding out hope that after defeating porter and jace they can revivify the ratgrinders in the finale and find some kind of peace. also if lucy and yolanda aren't rezzed i riot

what were your thoughts?

My answer will also have spoilers for FHJY so avert your eyes, all ye who have not watched the penultimate episode yet!

I'm hesitant to answer because I truly think people will not like my take on this, but I think this is my first ever anon ask and I've had time to think more on my opinion and solidify it. This is all with the caveat that of course the final episode isn't out yet, so anything I say about what I think of the narrative of the show is incomplete information.

The first thing is that some people are really upset about the Rat Grinders getting killed in combat when there's a lot we don't know about them, and to some degree they may be acting under duress from Porter and Ankarna. Some people are really mad that the Bad Kids are just rushing into battle to kill them off without taking the time to try to understand them. I have a couple of reasons why (although I understand the frustration) I don't agree with this criticism. The first is an in-world reason, and the second is a TTRPG reason.

The in-world reason I don't think a "redemption" arc would be satisfying for the Rat Grinders is because these are the last two episodes. None of the Rat Grinders have done anything to show that they desire or are working toward redemption. Yes, they're teens. We don't know how completely they're acting under their own volition. BUT they are actively trying to kill not only the Bad Kids, but everyone who was at Fabian's party (essentially the entire school) and everyone in Elmville. If the Rat Grinders are doing this because of Ankarna/Porter, The Bad Kids don't know of a way other than killing everyone to stop this from happening. Maybe if the Bad Kids had spent more time trying to get to know the Rat Grinders I would feel differently.

There have also been criticisms that The Bad Kids are bullies and taking pleasure in killing off the Rat Grinders, and that it feels fucked up. I think The Bad Kids are bullies! I think they've been little assholes since the beginning of the show. They frequently bully each other. They're literally called The Bad Kids. I think something fun about playing a game in a high school setting is that high schoolers aren't mature and have less impulse control than adults do, so they make bad decisions. Sometimes they do really fucked up things. Fig sending Reuben to hell is pretty fucked up, but it's also pretty funny, and it's also what a teenage devil of rebellion would do to somebody they're mad at. (I could also get into a whole thing about how Dimension 20 is a comedy show and that hyperbole is funny, but then I have to give my hot take about other moments of Dimension 20 that people generally don't like and I can only do so much here.)

So that's the in-narrative reason why I don't think a redemption arc would be satisfying. But there's also TTRPG/medium reasons I think it wouldn't be satisfying! Dimension 20 is, for better or worse, primarily a D&D show. (They've also played Kids on Bikes which they have generally ran in the same way they run D&D but I have a whole other blog post about my irritations with that. Also obligatory Shriek Week mention.) D&D is primarily a combat game. You can do other things in it, but the majority of people's spells and abilities come down to fighting. That's why the finales are always combat episodes. In D&D, you solve problems with violence. That's the game. Having played 50+ other game systems at this point, I have a lot of critiques of D&D! I would LOVE if Dimension 20 played other things. That being said...

If they ARE playing D&D, I find myself much less frustrated when they play D&D as D&D, and not trying to get it to be something it isn't. So if one of the Bad Kids in the finale decides "I want to spend my turn trying to reason with Kipperlily," and it comes down to a roll because the situation is tense and combat is happening, that would make more sense to me than a two part finale where every member of the party tries to reason with the Rat Grinders and if they fail the roll they just have another person say the same sentiment worded differently so they can spam Persuasion checks.

There are other games where a dialogue works as a final confrontation. Good Society (my beloved) has all kinds of rules to navigate social intrigue, use people's reputations against them, or appeal to their good qualities. Justicar is a courtroom drama game where people have moves that let them introduce evidence or find a flaw in someone's testimony. Vampire The Masquerade has rules for "social combat." D&D doesn't really have that. The best approximation it has is the DM deciding on a number that needs to be rolled on a die to convince someone of something. That's it. It's not even an opposed check, because what do you roll against Persuasion? Mayyyyybe Insight in some circumstances. Maybe a Saving throw of some kind? But there isn't much support in the rules for that kind of finale.

The last thing I'll say is that MOST seasons of Dimension 20, people say the ending was anti-climactic or not narratively interesting. That's a fair critique, and I honestly agree! That being said, Dimension 20 is essentially long form improv. That's not the medium I personally go to for a satisfying narrative conclusion. If I want a story with a solid, satisfying ending, I read a book or watch a movie: finite works that are planned out, edited many times, and that have a carefully crafted narrative structure. Sorry, anon, for such a long and probably uninteresting answer! Also for the record, I think if the Rat Grinders are rezzed after the fight and released from their rage stars that would be a good end, and I too want Lucy and Yolanda brought back. So I agree with you on that! The take has been released!

#fhjy spoilers #dimension 20

[acourtofladydeath]

🎵💚 Once bitten and twice shy, I keep my distance but you still catch my eye. Tell me baby, do you recognize me? ❤️🎵

I certainly hope not because I’m going out of my way to ensure that you don’t

Hi it’s me again (santa)

I hope your week is going well!! I’ve been thinking about your present and I was curious if you would prefer something canon-compliant/canon-divergent and/or pre-canon?

Also, I have plans to incorporate Nesta and I was wondering if there were any other characters or ships that would be fun for you to read if I included them? No promises to get them all, but I’ll do my best!

Final fic-related question: do you have any hard limits? Anything that you actively do not want to read or read about? I want to ensure that your present is as enjoyable as possible ❤️

Now because you seem very cool and I’d like to get to know you, I’m going to quiz you a little more 😂

What is your favorite color? (mine is either cornflower blue or mossy green)

What’s your go-to comfort film? (a few of mine are P&P (2005,) Under the Tuscan Sun, and The Holiday.)

Most Ardently Yours,

Santa

HI SANTA!! Thank you for that, by the way, I will now have that song stuck in my head through the end of the year at a minimum.

I like to stay close to canon compliant, but it could be pre, during, or post! Honestly as long as they're together and happy.

I did want to add that I will enjoy smut, but I truly want these boyos to be in L.O.V.E. = LOVE. I'm such a sucker for a good story behind any smutty bits that may be included. Smut not required, story preferred. (BUT smut not discouraged AT ALL, I just prefer it to be a part of the bigger story. Set the stage, ya know?)

So excited to hear about Nesta!!! If and only if it works with your story I'd love to see the bat boys in there for 2 reasons:

Nessian moments, my other favorite ship.

The bat boys reactions to Azris is one of my fave parts of the ship.

Also would never say no to seeing Lucien, especially for more brotherly love vibes. But I don't have super strong opinions on additional characters!

I had to think about hard limits for a while because I don't have many, if you've delved into my AO3 bookmarks at all you'll see QUITE A RANGE LEMME TELL YOU. I'm typically not a fan of anything that straight up bashes characters, I truly see them all with faults, strengths, and weaknesses. As long as things/opinions are explained within a fic, I'm good with most of it. There are no individual characters I avoid or dislike. I'm not a fan of elriel (I'm mentioning this because it's one of the only things I typically scroll past but not sure it's at all applicable here?) If you're specifically asking about kink ranges, lemme know cuz they're WIDE AND VARIED. If there's anal there must be lubrication of some kind, that's a hard line for me.

As for my favorite color, I've got a lot of teal things, but I'm starting to tend more towards deeper, darker blue-greens and lots of forest greens.

Comfort movie? Oh gods...this question...I'm not sure that I have one. I literally had to go look at my streaming services because I haven't watched many movies recently. I also tend to rewatch TV shows more than movies d/t time constraints. I'm also such a mood watcher/reader/listener that this answer literally changes hourly. I'm a huge fan of Disney's Peter Pan (see: my Azris Peter Pan AU), Beauty and the Beast (OG animation), and Hercules. I don't think I could watch The Prince of Egypt enough in one lifetime. Anastasia is another favorite. I enjoy The Proposal a lot too. White Christmas is my favorite Christmas movie. I'm a huge sucker for movies like "Rush" that are retellings of actual events (and a big F1 fan).

Pride and Prejudice and The Holiday are both great movies that I really enjoy, but haven't watched in a while!!

I'm looking forward to see what you cook up with and getting to know you more as well!!

Sincerely,

A chronic over explainer who could not come up with simple answers and I hope that's okay. Please feel free to ask for clarification on anything!

#This is entirely more information than you asked for. #And probably more than you bargained for. #But I hope it's helpful and doesn't throw too much of a wrench in your plans (if at all) #acotar gift exchange #acotar gift exchange 2023 #secret santa #acotar secret santa #can you tell i forgot what tag i used for you #secret santa 2023

[im-smart-i-swear]

If it is alright if i ask, but what is Eenek's (they are the Galran kid right) relationship with the funky guys like?

oh i havent really had a chance to talk about Eenek yet!

their relationship w/ the clones is complicated - these people kept them safe and took care of them for years, and eenek slowly grew to see them as family - but the road to get there was long and winding.

at the beggining they were definetly distrustful and agressive, but also these weirdos were literally the only other people on this shithole of a planet, so they didnt really have a choice but to stick with them. (they tried very hard to look intimidating and serious but theyre literally the galran equivalent of 13. and also very small for a galran, so really they just ended up looking like an scared angry cat)

they are propably the closest with the other kids - Pal, Taks and Taka. technically pal is the oldest, but hes not a very responsible older brother(hes trying tho!!). neither is eenek but beggars cant be choosers, so they ended up as the oldest sibling.

beacuse of the language barrier pal was the only person they could have a real conversation with for years, and after a rocky start they became really great friends! they try to be responsible older siblings(with varying degrees of sucess), take turns rambling about random stuff and help each other process the trauma of growing up surrounded by people telling them to sacrafice themselves for the greater good :)

dont leave eenek and taks alone for too long or theyll wreck your shit and steal all your valuables. even though they couldnt freely communicate w/ each other for a big chunk of their relationship, they still manage to wreck havoc<3 seperately theyre smart young people but toghether they come up with the dumbest most recless ideas and execute them flawlessly. when taks saw eenek for the first time she decided shes going to befriend that cool purple alien no matter what and eenek could do nothing about it.

taka is The Baby TM and to be protected by all costs.

to say tashi was freaked out when he first saw eenek is a huge understatement - what the fuck?? is this??? an alien????? he barely knew how to aproach scared human kids, so a very scared, very confused purple alien teenager was not ideal. he did his best(as always) - made sure to give them space and patiently waited for them to get more comfortable. in the beginning eenek thought tashi was the worst choice for a leader, but he proved them wrong many times. they actually grew to respect him quite a lot beacuse of how he manages to keep everyone(mostly) under control not by force or threats, but rather by finding compromises and admitting when hes wrong. also hes funny and taught them how to sew!

at first eenek tried to avoid soup - shes imposing and can look threatning - but she would never hurt them. since theyre stuck on a wild planet they have to hunt for food, and soup is the main hunter of their little family. eenek helps her a lot, setting up traps and scaring the animals in her direction(they are a bit queasy though so they leave the kills and preparation to her and tashi). they also like just sitting toghether in silence to calm down :)

them and buddy have a really weird relationship. for the first weeks/months(before buddy explained the clone situation to everyone) eenek was terrified of him beacuse they knew who he was - the black paladin of voltron. they stayed as far away from them as possible... until they realised the only thing he was worried about was them talking about his past and other than that left them alone. later on, after buddy came clean, they started to try and convince eenek that maybe the galran empire isnt that cool after all - but theres only so much you can do when the person youre talking to is a kid desperately clinging to the remnants of their childhood and also spent the last few years of their life with 'vrepit sa' as their defining personality trait. buddy drops the topic eventually(for now. they havent given up, hes just waiting for the right opportunity). after that they actually start to get along pretty well! buddy helps them improve their fighting skills a lot, and also it turns out theyre both painfully stubborn dumasses(it gets even worse when you throw taks into the mix)

jesus fuck. thats a lot of words..

heres some drawing of them and taks! (these are a bit old tho, their design looks a little diffrent now)

uhhh i also wrote like 4 paragraphs about eeneks childhood and motivations but this is long enough alreadyyyy(maybe ill edit it in later if anyone wants to read it)

#ask #thank you so frickin much for the ask i rlly apriciate it!! #my funky guys #i have this loose painting i did of em and never got around to posting it #uhhhhh this is so longggg #i put more effort into these rambles than my school essays #the sheer amount of information about these mfers i have in my head is honestly amazing #eenek based their entire personality on being loyal to zarkon and the empire #and then he fucking dies #they KNOW there are things wrong in the empire but theyr so desperate for #idk. something thats everpresent and doesnt change #and zarkon was that #until he wasnt #i mean they never met him or anything #they just really idolised him #god i hope this post isnt super boring #theres SO MUCH of this and i dont know what information are the most importrant #but i still had fun writing this!!

[littlekingbergara]

🔥 the cats vs dogs debate

literally cats all the way 100% no question. the lengths i go to in my life to avoid dogs are !!! stupid and dramatic some would say. to the point where i'm never walking inside somewhere first bc if there's a dog i'm Not getting jumped on.

i have been drooled on and jumped on and knocked down and fussed at by other people's dogs more times than i've ever been inconvenienced or annoyed or grossed out by my cats.

and it's so fucked up that nobody like?? respects that?? i Don't think they're cute or charming or silly or whatever. "oh she just wants you to pet her" "you just have to sit with him" ok i'm not doing that though.

send me 🔥 and a topic and i'll tell you my opinion on it!

#and genuinely the way some people act with dogs makes me sick. why are you letting it eat off your plate and lick your face and do all that #and for some reason all dogs i meet are obsessed with me... go Away! go to literally anyone else around! #had the worst experience nye when i was with some family friends and they have two dogs and were so Pushy about me playing w them and Upset #that i didn't want anything to do with them like. this is not new information yall have known me my entire life and i have never once #Enjoyed being near a dog. #anyway. i realize this is more anti-dog than pro-cat but i can't help it i'm a certified dog hater sorry . #ask game #local80sghost

[teaboot]

Once I spoke with a girl who told me a friend had invited her to a pool party, but she didn't want to go because the friend's mom had HIV.

I told her that this was a common concern, but HIV can't be transmitted by sharing a pool, and in fact HIV is such a weak virus that it can't even survive on a table for more than a few hours, and it can be killed entirely by bleach.

She asked me, "if you can kill HIV with bleach, why haven't we cured it yet?"

I told her, "because we can't put Bleach into people without killing them".

She said that this was interesting, but she still wasn't going to go.

(We did not become friends.)

The other day, I saw a group of teenage boys climbing all over an electrical box in town.

I walked over and asked if they were aware this was an electrocution risk.

One of them asked what I meant. I pointed to the large yellow image of a stick man with a lightning bolt through its chest and repeated, "it has an electrocution warning on it. Don't get blown up."

The kid laughed and said, "hey, play at your own risk, right?" And went back to his buddies.

I went back to what I was doing, but kept an eye out, and did notice that within the next five minutes, the whole group had removed themselves from the box and were now gathered several feet away from it.

I can't make people do things. I can inform, and support, but I cannot make their choices.

This is something that is hard to learn.