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januaryembrs · 1 month

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THERE'S NO SIGN OF LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [3]

Description: The one where you grieve Emily together (+ the one where you kiss him)

word count: 7.9k

trigger warnings: okay so this chapter is exactly how it sounds, heavy in themes of grief, depression, anger, slight ideation of the world being better without bugsy (as if), DRUG USE (once and not addictively and not by Spencer!), mention of Spencer being horny, mention on blood and drinking.

authors note: this was just supposed to be a little filler chapter for the next one where the real juicy shit happens and long story short it became nearly 8k words of pure angst until the last minute when I decided to stop hurting you all. please don't hate me, promise a big boy chapter is coming up.

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'Doctor, look into my eyes.

I've been breathing air, but there's no sign of life.'

The team had fallen into chaos since Emily died. Hotch thought that just five little stages of grief weren’t quite enough to summarise what they were going through.

Morgan was pissed off by the smallest things, had flipped shit just that morning because the printer had jammed. He'd gone through two mugs and a keyboard in just two weeks in his tempers that had certainly seen better days.

Penelope’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears she was trying her hardest to choke down, to wipe away so fast she could pretend to still see her computer screen, but Hotch didn’t need to be a profiler to see the way her sleeves were smudged with mascara, sodden through 24/7.

Rossi seemed resigned, tired, his breath smelled faintly of the strong whiskey he saved for special occasions, his hair unkempt, as though he hadn’t slept until the early hours, or if he had it had been unrestful. He took more frequent breaks, came back smelling like the cigars he kept in his desk drawer for the bad days, and he sighed as if the world beat down on his back, like he’d been asked to choose between stopping world hunger or saving the environment. His chest was heavy. His face was tired of losing so many friends he loved.

Spencer was working himself to the bone, his desk piled with books (even more so than usual), his fingers twitching by his side more often, as if his brain cells had been dialled up to a thousand percent, which was saying something when it came to Reid. In fact the only thing out of ordinary was the fact he was constantly checking his phone, the sight of which had Pen dropping her coffee on the rough carpet, which she had promptly then excused herself with watery eyes over. Yes, he actually knew how to use technology, which he had been so vehemently against for years, until the team realised it was because one very important member of the team had been using her sick days for three weeks now.

They knew he was looking after her, that he would bring her dinner and make sure the cats were fed, but they had no idea she had all but moved in with him, Niko and Sergio included.

Yet he found himself checking the screen every twenty minutes or so for signs of an update, even just a thumbs up or a little sign that said seen under his good morning texts. He was scared he’d wandered too far into boyfriend territory, it certainly felt that way when he would come home to see her bundled on the couch, nose deep in one of the books he would leave out for her, how her eyes would light up just the tiniest amount to see him home. She rarely cooked, he knew she didn’t even touch the food in his fridge no matter how much he reminded her she needed to eat when he wasn’t there, to which she usually just nodded at him and buried her head in his arm to escape the scoldings.

Things were different with her here. He knew she was vulnerable, lost, he saw it every time she came crawling into his bed from where he’d set her up in the spare room, or when Sergio made himself home on her lap and she squeezed the cat to her chest in quiet tears. Usually he would have squirmed out of her grip, he had always preferred Emily, but these days he just let her sob with a docile blink at where Spencer watched her from the other end of the couch, and pretended not to notice when his fur was sodden and messed up.

Spencer had felt something for her before, the weeks, months even leading up to Emily dying, but with her here, needing him all the time, holding him tightly when he needed to grieve himself, making herself at home in his personal space, he was sure she knew it too. There was no way she didn’t know how he felt.

But the topic was too heavy, too complex to bring up with her mourning her sister, it would rip the carpet out from beneath her feet, and no matter how heavily, besottedly, how deeply Spencer felt he loved her, he would never do that to her. He couldn’t.

He had always loved mind games, but loving someone so much you couldn’t not tell them, only to not tell them because you loved them so much felt like a whole paradox even he couldn’t wrap his big brain around.

So they stayed where they were. She had good days, though they usually looked like said reading on the sofa with nothing but a strong cup of coffee in her stomach. And then she had bad ones. And the bad ones made him scared, so scared he had no choice but to get help.

Penelope came over the Friday evening with Spencer after work, kitted out entirely with nail polishes and gems, the box set of Barbie movies, a hot chocolate mix she swore by, three tubs of ice cream, face masks, Teen vogue with a Never have I ever section ‘Begging to be answered’ and of course, her Pièce de résistance, her makeup kit and joke fluffy handcuffs for them to tie down Reid and give him a makeover.

“Hello my handsome gentlemen,” She greeted Niko and Sergio who rushed to the door on instinct, knowing Spencer always gave them each a big handful of treats upon arriving home, “Auntie Penny is here for a super girly evening, no boys allowed,”

“Am I not invited?” Spencer asked, faux hurt flashing on his face as he shut the door behind them, though his eyes were quick to scan around his living room for any sign of her. There wasn’t, not even a single pillow was out of place, and he knew it had been another day of skipped lunch and breakfast.

“You are, of course you are, I just didn’t want them to get jealous,” She whispered, her brown eyes taking in the too perfect apartment and the lack of the Prentiss girl, “Is she sleeping?”

“No,” He said without checking, because he knew she rarely slept nowadays unless she was in his bed with him, “I’ll go get her,”

“Okay,” Some of the joy died out of her tone when she heard his voice soften sadly as she set her bags down on the kitchen counter, “I’ll get the hot chocolates ready!” Penelope tried to recover in that perky tone she used to cover up when something hurt her.

He just hoped this had been the right decision, that he wasn’t pushing her too hard.

Knocking softly on her door, he let himself in when he heard a small murmur on the other side, and as he suspected, she was curled into a small ball under one of his blankets, her hair wet, her pyjamas in the laundry basket. She had one of his shirts on and some boxers he had noticed had gone missing, but he would never hold it against her.

She had showered while he was gone at least, and her breath was minty fresh as he crept over the woolly rug and kneeled one leg on the bedside.

“Hey,” He started softly, sweeter than honey, his cadence somewhat hopeful as he leaned over her and stroked her hair that was still damp. “You got up! Did you eat anything?”

She looked up at him with tired eyes, but she reached out with both her arms to embrace him gently, like she’d been waiting all day to have him near again.

“I had a couple biscuits and some coffee,” Her voice was raspy, and it was the first he’d heard her speak in a few days. “I’ll try better tomorrow, I just was a bit tired today-”

“No, no, that’s great,” He rushed to comfort her, to stop the apology that was coming his way whenever she didn’t take care of herself the way he wanted her to, “Penny’s here to see you. She’s here for a girl’s night, if that’s okay?”

Bugsy attempted a smile, though she seemed hesitant, but he thought that was probably just the way her expression was these days, like everything hopeful had been sucked out of her.

“I’ve missed Penny,” She said, and he knew she meant it. She nodded finally, and he leaned over her to give her a proper hug for putting on a brave face, feeling her nuzzle into his chest at the contact. She sniffed the air for a second, before whispering into his ear, “Is that chocolate?”

He chuckled, stroking down her back and pulling her up into a sit. He’d gotten used to her being pliant under his touch, and he only wished her being so receptive to his advances would be under other circumstances.

The urge to grab her face and kiss every bit of hurt out of her was growing harder and harder to shove down with every day he saw her so soft and wounded. He wasn’t good at knowing what to say, but for her, he was trying to be. The only alternative was kissing her silly, until the pit she’d crawled into was warm, just warm all over, and she came back to him in one piece.

“Yes, it’s chocolate. Now come on, before she starts the movie without us,” He breathed gently, helping her out of bed, pretending he didn’t hear the way her joints cracked with the first sign of movement in hours. “Wait a second, pants,” He reminded her, tossing her some sweatpants from the floor, which she shoved on blindly. He didn’t mind her walking around like that if it meant she were comfortable, but he didn’t want her to give Pen a scare.

A ghost of a smile teased on her lips as he led her out the room with two hands on her shoulders, seeing the blonde woman light up like the fourth of July at the sound of the two of them approaching.

“Bug!” Penelope called, mid way through distributing a hefty amount of whipped cream and marshmallows on top of three mugs. Spencer watched the second her eyes widened slightly as she took in the girl’s appearance, trying frantically to cover it with an even wider smile, rushing to hug her tightly. He saw the minute she realised she felt so different in her arms; lifeless, heavy, rooted to the spot, like any contact with someone other than the gentle Spencer-touches she was used to made her lock up.

She looked sick, like she hadn’t known fresh air in weeks, or like she’d pulled three all nighters in a row, or like she would be able to watch a ten car pile up and not bat an eye. She looked dead. She felt dead in Penny’s arms.

The thought of it made her squeeze her tighter, until she felt two arms cuddle her back firmly.

“I see Spencer has been treating you well,” Pen said, because she was avoiding the subject of Emily, and the way Bugsy looked exhausted, and the way she saw how scared Spencer was when he’d come into ‘the bat cave’ that afternoon to ask for her help.

Bugsy attempted another smile, nodding slightly as the blonde drew back from their hug, and she saw the worry she tried so desperately to hide as she took in her face.

The girl’s skin was dull in a way they’d never seen her before, her expression tired, her bones creaky, like someone had reached down her gullet and plucked her soul right from out of her chest, snatched it there and then. Penelope saw why Spencer looked so worried.

“He’s been great,” Bugsy replied simply, her eyes finding Spencer’s where he shadowed behind her, worried she would faint on the spot from all the movement. She’d not been eating anything other than what he encouraged down her throat, but he supposed a handful of biscuits were better than nothing.

She felt the bottomless pit that used to be her heart rip open just that bit further, the way it had done slowly the past few days, eating away at her skin. She knew she could never ever repay Spencer for everything he was doing, knew the odd few times she’d managed to collect herself enough to be there for him when he cried could never amount to how he hovered over her every second he was home.

But where she should have felt guilt, there was nothing, there was just nothing left of her.

He seemed to notice the slip, the way he always did, and she never did tell him how perceptive he was as he stroked over the back of her hair, leading her with a warm hand on her upper back to the sofa where Pen had already laid out the movie selection, had already grabbed the hot chocolates that were quickly melting onto the coffee table, where Niko was waiting with an eager pink tongue to collect his share, where he settled her down and wrapped her in a blanket as if he was swaddling a baby, where he let her take the middle and him and Pen on either side as Fairytopia lit up his living room with hot pinks and rainbows and flowers and magic.

And even though she had yet to crack a smile, a real one at least, she seemed content, not entirely uncomfortable with the evening as Penelope commandeered one of her hands to paint her nails a shiny blush colour ‘to match the evening’. Spencer thought for a minute she might have just needed some girl time, something no matter how many cuddles and sweet words he whispered could never give her. Maybe that was all she’d needed.

Maybe she would get through this without entirely crumbling.

It wasn’t until the next day when even showering was too big a feat for her, when she had only two mouthfuls of the blueberry pancakes he’d made her before she apologised with watery eyes that he realised how stupid he was for believing it.

It wasn’t until she said she wanted to move back home by herself that he really started panicking.

JJ took her out for a picnic in the park the following weekend. The guilt was eating her up alive about hiding Emily’s secret, and from what Pen had told her, she wasn’t doing good. She wasn’t even doing bad; she was barely hanging on by a thread. Hotch had said she would be a flight risk with her sister gone, had said they would need to keep an eye on her as much as they would the rest of the team, but for Emily’s safety she couldn’t tell her the truth. JJ could only stand back and watch as the girl they all knew crawled into something dark inside herself and barricaded the door closed.

Spencer had taken the nice approach with her, never forcing her to do anything she didn’t want to or asking too directly, as had Penelope. They’d both tried letting her open up by herself, which had only resulted in the girl taking about five steps back and even starting to shut out Reid, something which they all saw tore him up even more than seeing her wasting away in his spare room. He spent more days at hers, crying harder than she had seen him even when he was struggling with opioids. Crying for Emily some of the time, but mostly crying for the fact he was entirely helpless now she had moved out, like the one thing that had held him upright until then had left in a guilty mess of ‘sorry’s and dead eyes.

So she instead took the approach of telling Bugsy she needed help. Because if there was one thing that had always been able to bend her will, it was someone else needing her.

JJ thought about reminding Spencer that Bug would come back if he took the same route, if he just told her how badly he needed her instead of her feeling like she was simply a burden on his life. But she knew he wouldn’t hear it, he would only blame himself more.

So she’d told Bug she was struggling with looking after Henry alone while Will was working away, that he’d been asking for her since she’d come to his second birthday party with the biggest stuffed whale toy he’d ever seen. It was a white lie, Will was home more days than she was, but Henry had been asking for ‘the bug lady’ every time he played with his teddy. And it worked like a charm.

So they sat in the warm April breeze, Bugsy reading on her stomach as JJ carefully nudged a punnet of fat, red grapes her way, hoping she would take the hint and swallow a few.

It wasn’t until Henry came diving over to them from where he was collecting snails by their shells that Bug even showed any sign of pulling herself out of the book.

“Buggy!” The little boy called, his tongue struggling with the complexity of the ‘gsy’ sound, and she looked up at him with a tired smile on her face that JJ saw right through immediately. “Buggy, look,”

She held out her hand, and he gently placed a common land snail in the palm of her hand, no bigger than a quarter, who happily slid over her fingertip with a squishy sensation.

“Thankyou, Henry,” She replied, her eyes trailing over the shiny slime he left behind over her palm, his tiny antenna eyes googling up at her. “What should we call him?”

“Sid’d’snail,” Henry replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, crouching next to her to watch him crawling over her chipped pink fingernails.

“Hi Sid,” She chimed, and JJ watched her face drop into a completely emotionless expression the second Henry’s back was turned to find Sid a friend.

She felt it clawing at her throat to come out, Emily’s alive, Emily’s alive, come back to us please, please come back to us because Emily’s still alive. JJ was watching her rot in front of her very eyes, and better yet she had the power to stop it with those very few words.

She could put an end to all of this, she knew how badly it had hurt when Ros died, her older sister, her whole world ripped from her the way Emily’s ‘death’ was doing to Bugsy. She would have given anything for someone to have turned to her and said ‘Jennifer, your sister is still alive. Jennifer, it was all a trick, a hoax, a ploy to keep you safe. Jennifer, Ros is still here, alive and breathing and living her best life in Paris of all places.’

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t betray Emily like that, and knowing, no matter how much of a relief it would come, would put Bugsy in more danger with Ian Doyle and whatever other enemies her sister had made at interpol than she could have ever realised.

So instead, JJ just ran a gentle hand over her hair that warmed in the sun, and started braiding parts of it absent-mindedly, like they were two girls in a playground waiting for hometime.

JJ stayed quiet, and watched Bugsy get worse.

Aaron came over to her apartment at 8am sharp. He’d found JJ and Penny in floods of tears in the women’s bathroom when they were due to start the presentation of the latest case and they were nowhere to be seen. Spencer had become detached, quieter with every day that he checked his phone and saw no reply, but had mentioned he’d seen them go into the bathroom together as he got his morning coffee, only for their boss to see the two of them clinging to one another with wet cheeks and before he could even ask, Penelope splurged that Bugsy hadn’t messaged in four days and was refusing to open the door, and that even Spencer asking so sweetly, something that was usually her kryptonite, had failed to draw her out.

Aaron was convinced if this didn’t work he was kicking down the door himself, even if it meant filing paperwork for a necessary home visit.

Aaron Hotchner, surprising to no one, was soft on the youngest Prentiss girl. He’d watched her grow for four years straight, had come to her of all people in his hour of desperate need, and felt every second of her grief as if it was his own because he, like JJ, knew he had the power to stop it all but couldn’t.

He called her name through the door first, her real name, loud yet anxious, along with a firm knock. When he heard nothing back, he rapped on the wood louder, “Bugsy, I know you’re in there. The team are worried about you, they’re worried you’re hurt,”

Nothing.

And it wasn’t just the team that was worried, it was him too, if his heavy fists banging even harder were anything to go off of.

“Bugsy, if you don’t answer I’m sending for the SWAT team and asking them to ram this door down,” He said, with not a trace of a lie in his tone. Because he wasn’t lying, not by a long shot.

He heard footsteps then, and she appeared through a small crack in the doorway, not open enough for him to see the mess in her living room, but enough to see the way her entire face looked like a cadaver.

He fought back against the guilt choking him from the inside out.

“Stop yelling,” She murmured, almost bitterly, “You’re scaring the cats,”

“You’re scaring us,” He countered back, in a tone that was a little too mean, but from what he heard, soft and gentle wasn’t working, “Please, just let us help you, stop pushing everyone away,”

“That’s a little pot calling the kettle black there, Hotch,” She said in an equally harsh tone, her face scrunching into a frown, and she nearly slammed the door on him right there and then.

“Get your work out clothes on, we’re going for a run,” He ordered, and it was only then she notices his sport shorts and trainers. She scoffed in his face. He was quick to shove a foot in the door before she actually could swing it shut on him, ignoring the way he nearly yelped as it trapped between the wood, “I’m not asking,”

“Fuck off,” She spat, and he bristled at her choice language, but he saw the way her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She was a roadkill on a sidewalk waiting to be put out of her misery; she didn’t want to be prodded and poked at and ordered around, she wanted out.

She wanted to go quietly, without a fight. And it was for that reason, he put up more of a struggle.

“You are coming outside with me, even if I have to drag you down the street myself because this is not how it ends for you.” Aaron barked back, forcing the door open with one of his large hands as if it was nothing.

“Of all people, I would have thought you would understand, Aaron,” It was like she had slapped him in the face, though he thinks maybe that would have hurt less, and it was only then he saw her eyes had welled up, and her bottom lip was quivering. It was a horrible sight, it twisted his guts like he’d been stabbed by Foyet all over again, but it was better than the nothingness that was there before.

“Ofcourse, I understand,” His voice softened, his hands coming up to gently rest on her shoulder like she was breakable china beneath his palm, “You think I don’t know what it’s like to want to hide away and never face a world without Haley ever again? I can’t, even now, imagine the rest of my life with her gone,” His throat clogged with emotion he fought off, because he refused to have both of them crying in her living room when he was meant to be the one pulling her out of it, “But I do it because Jack needs me-”

“No body needs me,” She said emptily, ignoring the way Sergio wrapped his tail around her leg and meowed loudly as if to tell her otherwise.

“Yes we do,” Hotch insisted, seriously, damn near ready to shake her on the spot to knock some sense into her, “We need you, and better yet we love you. You may have lost your sister, but you still have a family waiting for you, Bugsy,”

And that was it, the single crack that broke the dam. Before he knew it she had launched herself into his arms in a fit of tears, clinging to him tighter than he thought she could for someone who looked so weak and perished.

He just held her close, feeling his own stray tears drip down his nose as his shirt got wet through. In another life, maybe he and Haley would have had a daughter, and maybe she would have reminded him of Bugsy, maybe his heart would soften to putty just the same way it did with her. The same way it did for Jack.

And eventually, when she dried her face, and quietened Sergio down, she went to put on her gym gear and one of Spencer's hoodies she’d stolen and felt too guilty to give back, and they went for a run.

If there was one thing Rossi knew better than his whiskeys, it was how to cook a good carbonara. And if there was one thing Bugsy needed more than anything at the moment it was a buttload of carbs and cheese.

Aaron had been taking her running every morning since that day, and even she had to admit the fresh air and exercise did her good, made her feel stronger and less like the women they find in body bags at the beginning of a case, made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could get through the rest of this.

It wasn’t going away overnight, not by any means, but she looked healthier, and her exhaustion meant she got more sleep too, but what remained was a hunger that she was filling with cereal and instant noodles that Rossi knew he had to put a stop to immediately. Instant noodles should have been outlawed with crack and underaged drinking, he would proudly tell her.

So he invited her over for a cooking lesson, or as he would put it, she could watch him cook and eat as much as she wanted at the end, if she promised to never buy those awful microwave ramen ever again. And she’d agreed, because she felt her appetite coming back every day (and she knew where he kept the good white wine).

“Now as entertaining as this is watching you drain my stash of Sémillon, why don’t you chop up that pork and I’ll get started on the sauce.” He handed her a sharpened butcher’s knife, and the thin slices of seasoned ham, turning to use the stove for just a few moments, “You’re gonna add the cream in until it becomes thick, like cough mixture running off your spoon,”

“Thick and creamy, you got it,” She chimed in, her fingers slicing the meat into strips, “Did you want this as diced or Julian?”

“Do you mean julienne?”

“That’s what I just said,” He chuckled into the pot, his chest warming to hear some of that old bratty teenaged sass returning to her tone. He bet she would have run rings around him if she was his kid.

“Diced, if you would,” David said, using a wooden spoon to stir in the thick cream little by little until the container ran empty.

“Yes, Chef,” She hummed in response, flipping the chopping board around to begin slicing them the other side, “So, I’m guessing if I asked to try some of that Sauvignon I saw in the fridge, your response would be- oh motherfucker-”

David frowned, “Maybe not so harsh on the tongue but-” He turned around when he heard a hiss, and he quickly understood why she’d thrown the expletive out there.

Her hand ran red with thick blood, dripping quickly down her arm, ruining her shirt. He didnt even care that his hand carved indian wood chopping board was permanently stained, or that the meat was contaminated, or that the blood trickled a little too quick over his floor, only that her eyes seemed suddenly far away as she did nothing to stop the cut gaping. It had caught her in a trance, one she was not even aware she had been sucked into until he grabbed a towel and headed for her.

“Emily, no! Emily please, I need medical in here, we have an agent down! Emily, please, please don’t, please- Someone get medical, she’s bleeding-”

David’s hands grabbed a hold of her bloodied palm, wrapping it tightly in the cloth, so harshly it knocked her out of the daze she was in, dragged her out from the last time there was blood all over her hand, when it had been Emily’s blood, when she could do nothing but freeze like she had now.

“I’m fine,” She said on a reflex, even though he hadn’t asked, he had just acted, pulling her towards the cupboard where he kept the first aid kit, “David, I’m totally fine, it’s just a little scratch,”

“You have to let me go,” Emily had gasped. "Let me go, Bug,"

“David, I’m fine, stop worrying,” She said again when she saw him fussing, hoping he couldn't see the way she’d started shaking, and if he had, she wondered if she could play it off as the adrenaline rushing to fix the wound.

She knew she was on thin ice with the lot of them after her talk with Aaron. Like he said, they were her family, and family’s took care of one another. She couldn’t live with herself if she kept burdening them so much, kept them from grieving their partner just as much as she was; she loved them too.

Bugsy was trying to get better, she really was. Sometimes it was just a little difficult, like now when she could still see Emily’s butchered body infront of her as if she were little more than that joint of pork she’d been julienning.

“It’s okay to get hurt sometimes, kid. You don’t have to lie and pretend it doesn’t hurt if it does,” David said, sitting her back on the breakfast table, holding the bloodied cloth up where he was unravelling a spool of bandage and some rubbing alcohol.

She shut up then, and she wondered if she was really that see through or if David was just that good at his job. They stayed silent, except for the moan of pain she let out when he doused her hand in the solution, pulling the skin closed tightly and wrapping it taut enough for her to feel her heartbeat in her fingertips.

“It’s okay if you need a little help once in a while,” He continued, his movements gentle and careful, worried he’d spook her with the first real conversation they’d had in a long time. Rossi had always been closer to Emily than he had her, and maybe it was the fact he lost the few chances he had to be a father, or just the fact she reminded him so much of her older sister, but being with her felt like part of the wound in his chest was the one being treated. “Rather than being afraid to ask for help, remember this: When you ask someone to help you, you are actually doing them a tremendous favour by giving them an opportunity to feel needed.”

“Is that a David Rossi original, or did you get that from one of your self help books?” She sniffed, hoping he didn’t see the way her expression had fallen, or her throat caught with an apology, or how she hid it with a small smile.

“Richard Carlson.” He replied, pinning the end of the bandage in tight enough it wouldn’t snag. He sighed, looking at the girl who started guiltily at her fingers, reaching behind her for the corkscrew, “I’ll go get the Sauvignon, you order us a pizza. Just please god, no pineapple, that’s just as bad as instant noodles in my books. That’s like asking Da Vinci about bitcoin, it’s madness,”

And that was the first time she properly laughed in weeks.

While Derek was more than equipped to schmoozing the ladies when he wanted a date with them, he had not been ready for this when he’d asked Bugsy to go to the club with him.

She had been doing better, Rossi had said. She had seemed stronger, that was what Hotch had told him. Spencer said they’d even gone for coffee together. He left out the part where it felt awkward and almost like they were seeing an ex, though that of course would be impossible, because they were never dating. At least as far as he knew anyway.

It had been going fine, they’d gotten two rounds of drinks, had been chatting and she’d even been giggling the more the alcohol hit her. She was looking more like she used to, and it almost all felt like a horrible dream hearing from the rest of the team the state she was in.

He’d turned his back for a second, for two damn seconds, and she’d been whisked away by some frat boy, and come back to him with a crazy happy look in her eye that he didn’t notice until an hour later.

“Where did you go, kid?” He’d asked, and she’d shrugged like it was nothing.

“Needed the bathroom,” She said, and he hadn’t even noticed it was a lie until the light struck her eye for more than a couple seconds and he saw just how dilated her pupils were, like the blackness swallowed her iris whole, and the way she buzzed on the spot with more energy than she’d had in months.

She was supposed to be getting better, and she was trying, really she was.

But she couldn’t stop seeing the blood on her hand, couldn’t stop seeing Emily’s face now she could actually sleep again.

Spencer was half way through his fourth re-read of War and Peace, in its original Russian translation, when he got the knock on the door.

It was 10pm, he muttered to himself, who was bothering him at this time.

But of course, as luck would have it, it was the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about, the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about for the past three years.

“Spencerrrrrrr!” She chirped, and immediately alarm bells were ringing in his head, her fingers linked with Morgan’s as if he’d all but pulled her to his apartment from the cab.

She wasn’t stumbling, and she smelled a little like alcohol, but not so much that her inhibitions would be completely destroyed, so he knew it wasn’t that. And Derek looked guilty, a serious kind of guilty like he’d suggested they take a drive on a motorbike with no helmet, or go chasing unsubs unarmed.

It wasn’t until she flung her arms over his shoulders, and he’d pulled her inside, Morgan following behind with a nervous clear of his throat that he realised what it was.

“Spencerrrr, I missed you! I missed you so much, Spencer!” And usually he’d love the way she said his name, but this time it was tainted, too false, too electrified. It barely even sounded like her, he hated the way his heart still pounded out of his chest at the fact she pressed herself so close in that little clubbing top of hers, those tight jeans.

“What did she take?” He ignored her little hums of a song he couldn’t hear, the way she pushed herself even further into his body in a way he knew too well felt like a warm hug throughout her entire being. “Morgan!”

Spencer had never snapped at him, not since his own days on whatever it was he was doing, and Morgan ran a hand over his face as she nuzzled her nose into his neck.

“I don’t know, I swear. I turned my back for two seconds to get us another drink, and next thing I know this senior is hitting on her and she’s shoving gum in her mouth and coming back towards the bar- I don’t know what it was, I swear I thought it was gum, man,” Derek rushed, hating the look of desperation in Spencer’s eyes as he yanked her away from him with a small mewl of protest from her mouth.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, look at me,” He murmured, and she did, and he saw almost immediately the way her pupils were the size of saucers when she stared at him, crazed and intoxicated, “Do you remember what you took? I need to know so I can keep you safe,”

“You always keep me safe, so safe with Spencer,” She giggled to herself, trying to pull him back to her, but he wouldn’t budge, not until he got a real answer, “Come on, I’m going to be fine, it was just a little Molly, nothing to worry about. Kid even gave me a half for like ten dollars because he said I was reeeeeal pretty. Do you think I’m pretty Spence? I think you’re pretty, I think you’re super pretty,”

They felt themselves sigh in relief, because while still a drug, half of one pill shouldn’t really do much, especially if it was the cheap stuff going around frat houses that the DEA was having a field day with.

Morgan looked at Spencer, where he let her shove her face against him once more, wrapping his arms around her back and feeling her sigh in relief that she was back there under his warm touch, and they shared the same thought.

This never happened.

Because if it did, it meant opening a can of worms Spencer had tried for years to shut tight. It meant acknowledging that the reason Morgan came to him and no one else was because he knew Spencer would know how to handle her when she was coming down in an hour or so. It meant acknowledging why Spencer would know that, and why they hadn’t acknowledged it the first time around. It meant their jobs would be on the line, and so was hers, and as much as she was struggling at the moment, they knew she just slipped up, and that this wasn’t who she was. They knew she could be better, that Spencer would force her to get better, because if the only other option was having her turn into who he used to be, then he was handing in his notice first thing Monday morning.

That wasn’t an option in Spencer’s books, nor was it in Morgan’s.

So Morgan left with a little pat on the back of her head, claiming she was a little troublemaker, though he hadn’t quite sounded as teasing as he’d intended and more bitter, and leaving Spencer with her to minimise the damage.

Bugsy let him lead her to the spare room that once was hers, but she didn’t quite care enough to say anything other than, “I missed you so much,” As she pushed her face into his neck more.

He sighed, sitting her down on the bed, knowing where she’d left some of her makeup wipes in his bathroom.

“Stay right here, I’ll be right back,” But she whined again, making a grab for his hand, which he quickly avoided, feeling mean for it the moment he saw her face scrunch in hurt. He stroked her hair behind her ear, watching her melt under his touch, and it almost felt like nothing had changed, like she had never moved out, and like she hadn’t just burst back into his life after popping a bit of molly and turning his evening upside down, “I missed you so much, too, Bug,”

And he wasn’t lying. Not even a little bit.

She looked up at him with those dazed pupils, as big as dimes as they batted up at him dreamily, and some awful part of him always wanted her to be looking at him like that, like everything he ever did in his life was perfect and he was a god among men. Like she was seeing her favourite movie for the first time on the big screen, when in reality he was just wiping her makeup off her face and handing her spare clothes to change into so she could sleep off the come down.

It wasn’t until he tried to leave again to go get her some water that she put up a real fight, one that couldn’t be fought off with a gentle touch (he tried), and she was quick to grab his wrist, tug him closer to her.

“Bug, I’m getting you-”

“Come lay down with me, let’s talk. I love talking to you, why haven’t we talked in so long?” She said like every barrier she ever put up had come tumbling down and her mouth was a free for all for her every thought.

Spencer smiled despite himself, his honeycomb eyes soft as he shuffled to lay beside her, and they stared at one another, heads against the same pillow, and she looked soft than an angel laying on his bed waiting for a response. She looked happy for the first time in a long time, and he hated how much it suited her.

“You moved out, remember, bug? You said you wanted to go home and I didn’t want to stop you,” He said gently, like he didn’t want to upset her. But she just giggled and shook her head like he’d told her a joke.

“Oh, yeah. But I didn’t really want to go home. I wanted to be with you. I want to be with you forever,” Bugsy giggled to herself, wiggling her toes inside her socks and running a finger up his arm gently as she lay on her side, “I missed you so much,”

His brow furrowed, “What do you mean you didn’t want to go home?” But she wasn’t listening, she was tracing over his face with her fingertip, running over his nose gently, past his full lips that quivered under her touch, “Bug,”

“Hm?”

“What do you mean you didn’t want to go home? Why did you leave?” He asked again, and she looked back up at him with a shrug, shuffling closer to him, so close he could feel her breath fan over his cheeks.

“I thought here with you was my home. I wanted it to be.” She said, her fingers finding their way into his nightshirt, “But I felt too guilty being so sad all the time, like I was getting my sad all over you and you couldn’t do anything about it because I was the loser girl with the dead sister you had to look after,”

His eyes burned with emotion, and he willed himself not to cry, because suddenly it made sense why she had pulled away so fast. She looked at him like he’d hung the damn cosmos in the sky; had he not even paid attention to the letter she’d written Emily. She felt like she was dragging him down, the way she felt about everyone in her life, and decided to cut herself free before she took him with her. And look where that had landed her.

He felt like a fool.

“No, no,” Spencer whispered, pulling her into his arms, because he was scared that come morning she would take a million steps back and up and leave him all over again, “That’s not true, that could never happen, you hear me? I liked taking care of you, I wanted to take care of you.”

“Really?” She asked hopefully, her face soft and dream-like, “I liked taking care of you too, when you would let me,”

It was true he had tried to push his own feelings on the back burner, besides the few times the dam had cracked and he wound up with his head in her lap receiving the brunt of the affection that evening. He didn’t know why he ever doubted she would have wanted to do that; when he had his migraines she had done nothing but love on him until he felt full to the brim of her warmth.

He felt himself chuckle, and she shuffled entirely into his arms then squashing out any last molecule of space left between them, and his hand slid over the back of her head, fingers rubbing softly into the nape of her neck which only made her moan loudly, entirely unaware of how sensitive her skin was from the molly.

“That feels nice, Spencer,” She hummed, her thighs straddling his own as she squished herself against him more, “You feel so nice, I love you so much.”

He would be lying if he said the sounds she was making didn’t shoot straight to his dick, and hoped more than anything that she couldn’t feel how it pressed against his stomach angrily. His heart beat rattled loudly, and he swore she had to be able to hear it.

“I love you too,” Spencer sighed, wishing he could have said this to her sober. Wishing she wouldn’t shut him out so easily, wishing he’d pushed her walls a little harder.

Then she did something he wasn’t expecting. It took all of two seconds for him to close his eyes and hum in content, where her hands were playing with the soft of his waist, and his fingertips stroked her jaw gently, but in a quick movement she planted her lips on his in a soft, sweet peck that he barely had time to register was happening before he pulled away in shock.

She kissed him. She had kissed him.

And he wanted her so badly, wanted her in every way it was possible to have someone, wanted to kiss her so hard his face went blue and his lips went numb and his throat burned with lack of oxygen. But he would never dare do anything when she was like this; vulnerable, intoxicated, unaware that the pill she’d taken had acted like a truth serum.

“We’re so silly,” Bugsy giggled, and for a moment she looked twenty two again, like the girl that had answered the door to him in college in nothing but her boxers and a shirt, with her metal music playing so loud he could hear it ringing in his ears minutes after she’d switched it off. She looked like his Bugsy again.

Spencer chuckled with her incredulously, feeling his face on fire from her action, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest that had been immovable for months, because as hard as her come down would hit her, things seemed different now, like they actually had a kicking chance of getting through the grief together.

But before he could say anything else, her eyes had fluttered shut under the warmth of his palm, and she had drifted off to sleep.

He guessed he’d have to tell her tomorrow.

–

taglist:

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions@the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @sadbae-33

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #matthew grey gubler x reader

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natailiatulls07 · 2 months

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Pen Pals

Oscar Piastri x Female!Reader

Summary - Strangers to pen pals to lovers

Warning - Cuteness overload!

Reader works in redbull as a media girl

Hi there,

I'm Y/n and I'm excited to write you! I've had a few pen pals in the past but none have really worked out.

But I digress, maybe we should start by introducing each other with a few fun facts; I love formula one! I am and will always be a cat person, having two cats of my own and my favourite past time would have to be finding and trying new recipes which either works or becomes a disaster, there's no inbetween!

I look forward to hearing about you and hopefully we'll get on well with eachother!

Yours truly,

Y/n

Dear Y/n,

It's lovely to meet you! This is my first time so go easy on me! I loved reading your letter and found it quite ironic as I am also a big fan of formula one.

A few facts about me is that my favourite film is 'ten things I hate about you' even though my friends always tease me for it. My favourite formula one driver would have to Oscar Piastri, next best rookie since Hamilton in my opinion.

Who's your favourite driver? And which team do you support??

Yours truly,

Oscar

Dear Oscar,

What a coincidence! I would definitely agree that Oscar Piastri is a great driver, espercially after winning a sprint in his rookie year! But however, I am a Max Verstappen girl through and through so that also means I'm a redbull supporter as well. But I have respect for each and every other driver and team!

I don't see how your friends can tease you about your favourite film, it is a iconic late 90s film with a stunning cast! See picking a favourite film for me is hard! There's too many to pick from like paddington or pretty woman or even oceans eight!

So what gotten you into starting to write pen pal letters??

Yours truly,

Y/n

Hi Y/n,

Yeah with my job I find that alot of the people I talk to are very fake and greedy. I felt as those if I just starting writing letters to someone I could keep an anonymous identity. I hope you'll respect that, I'm sure you will!

Don't get me wrong I love my job, it's something I worked my whole life for. But it feels some what suffocating sometimes.

What about you? You said that you've had pen pals in the past but none have really worked out. I can't see why though, you seem lovely and have a great taste in sport!

Yours truly,

Oscar

Dear Oscar,

Understandable. I promise to remain respectful and I won't pry. I think a pen pal is the perfect way to step away from our lifestyles, it gives us someone that won't judge and you can realise to them.

I started writing to pen pal when I started college. I moved away from all my friends and had a rocky break up with my boyfriend at the time.

So from then I tried to find the best pen pal. But believe it or not, not many people start a pen pal to talk to others and hear others but to just talk about themselves.

A pen pal relationship should be equal and not one sided so often those relationship will have lasted just under two months. But lets not dwell on the past.

Wait important question now! What is your zodiac sign?? It tells you alot about a person.

Yours truly,

Y/n

Time skip a few months -

Hi Y/n!

Just read your last letter, loved your descriptive story about your now sister in laws hen party! I need to see those drunk photos immadiately.

My summer break just started, I have a lot of down time and not a lot to do. Please do you have any suggestions!? I have a feeling that I'm going to spend my summer moving between the gym, my apartment and my local store.

How did the date with that guy go? Was the trip to the jungle mini golf really worth it? I remember I went on a date once, we went to a nice restaurant and by the end of the night she was black out drunk. WORST DATE EVER!!

Yours truly,

Oscar

Dear Oscar,

I would give you suggestions on what to do this summer. However just like you, my sofa becomes me seconds home after my bed. Well actually every summer me and my bestfriend deciated a day to binge watching all the Harry Potters! We go all out, getting themed snacks and making a fort out of blankets.

Oh my god! The date was horrible! All he did was talk about his family riches and how 'successful' he is. And to add salt to the wound the place was filled with whiny children. NEVER AGAIN!

Also I've add the photos from the hen party to the envelope, non of them have my face in it but you can see that the bride is enjoying herself.

Yours truly,

Y/n <3

Photos in the envelope -

Hey Y/n,

Looks like the hen party looks as exciting as it sounded! Send my crograts to the bride and groom please.

I'm sorry your date went like that, I hate rich snobs who just glot and I work around them a lot lol! A girl like yourself doesn't deserve to be treated like that, you deserve fancy restaurents and meaningful date. I know I would give you the world.

Harry Potter marathon?? Mmm doesn't sound like a bad idea, I might rope my friend into then, he's british so he'll feel right at home!

Anyways I've been thinking...over these last few months I've grown to trust and adore our little letters back and forth. And I was wondering if you wanted to exchange numbers or something, idk.

I'm actually in Barcelona next week for work, but we can arrange something if you wanted. I just feel like I'd want to put a face to a name and exciting personality!

Yours truly,

Oscar

Hi Oscar,

The world huh? Thats a bold statement...

Wait that ironic! I'm also in Barcelona next week, we could meet somewhere. I can't really do Thursday through to Sunday, that's when my work really starts.

But yeah we can meet at some coffee shop or something, I seen some nice recommendations on tiktok recently.

I'm actually really excited for this! I've never had a pen pal that actually worked out, let alone wanted to meet me, so I feel lucky! Yeah these letters have been fun to write, it's like I've learnt so much from you. Thank you so much!

OMG did you watch the last f1 race in Montreal?! Oscar Piastri, Max Verstappen and Daniel Ricciardo podium! I'm sooo proud Piastri, he is slowly but surely moving up and competing with Verstappen for my fav driver! There I said it!

Yours truly,

Y/n <3

Dear Y/n,

Is Piastri growing on you Y/n?? Ooo that's exciting! But you wouldn't want to disappoint the current world champ, his no 1 fan is going to the dark side!

I would definitely give you the world! In a heart beat actually, you've single handedly made me feel normal and human again and I am forever thankful for that!

So you're working Thursday through Sunday...the exact days that formula one is active in the same city. I feel bad for you honestly, I'm sorry...

How about we meet up on the Wednesday? Should we meet at the three marks coffee?? I've heard great things about their coffee!

Meet me there at 1pm! I actually can't wait! See you then!

Yours truly,

Oscar <3

Outside the cafe -

Stood just outside the cafe, Y/n fiddled with her bag. She didn't know why she was so nervous, she would trust her pen pal Oscar with her deepest darkest secret if needs be.

Busy was an understatement. And Y/n knew fully well why, it was the reason why she was here this week. Formula one. Being one the media girls at redbull meant that she had to attend every race, not that she was complaining.

Just down the street was Oscar, walking head held high and a large grin on his face. He was beyond excited to meet the mysterious Y/n.

When they both began sending letters to each other, they agreed that neither would pry for surnames, addresses and other personal details.

The one thing they decided to do today was dress in all white, making it easy for each of them to pin point each other.

Oscar approached the cafe, his eyes scanning the area for a women dressed in all white. Until he spotted her, it was love at first sight!

He was obsessed with how she stylied her hair, and what she decided to dress like considering the white rule. "Y/n!" Calling out her name, as he made a quick walk towards her.

Y/n could hear her name being called and when she turned she came face to face with the one and only Oscar Piastri smiling down at her. A gasp broke through her lips, surprised that he was her pen pal.

"You're my pen pal?" She asked in disbelief. The Australian driver nodding his head excitedly. "You let me hype you up about your driving and didn't tell me?"

They both broke out into laughter. "Yep! And I loved it!" Oscars face held a cheeky grin, that Y/n instantly fell in love with.

After settling down in a small secluded table just outside the cafe, Y/n turned to Oscar. Her face now holding a cheeky grin. "Is now the best time to tell you that I work at Redbull as a media girl?"

Now it was Oscars turned to look shocked, shaking his head in disbelief.

"So you're telling me we've been right under eachothers noses the whole time!?" Neither expected that they were in reality quite close to each other whilst they were sending letters back and forth.

"What are the chances? Right?"

"Fancy leaving Redbull and join me in Papaya? maybe then Oscar Piastri will be your favourite driver..."

"Oscar!"

#formula one #formula one x reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfiction #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x you #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #mclaren #mclaren racing #mclaren f1 #mclaren formula 1

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fernlessbastard · 8 months

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So, what's the deal with this tnt duo art?

I've explained it in my reblog of this post, but I've decided to copy this over to a brand new post as well, because especially with qsmp happening I'm sure we have many newer people here who don't get what's the deal with this piece

Ok so first off: the artist is _olga.exe_ on Instagram (I think also on twitter but i don't use Twitter so you'll have to check that one yourself)

To the best of my understanding this art just came out around June 2021, which was immediately after the first Revivedbur/Quackity interaction. The first two or so months the ship was exclusively seen as a crack ship - I'm not fully certain why, I think it's just that quackbur before wasn't all that known and popular, so it seemed like it came out of nowhere to the majority of the internet (which, it didn't, holy shit, those sluts have been so gay with each other for so long). It also was a time when most people only began realising that ccQuackity was capable of serious lore, which most likely added to how the ship was seen. Even I myself actually was very hesitant to bring it up to my partner, when I began slowly getting into it - of course while simultaneously deluding myself that it's nothing more than a crack ship for me (@octobre-ackedia oh would you look at how we ended up--).

This art was one of the first pieces that were fully serious, and couldn't be construed in any way shape or form as /p, so it got picked up by people on twitter and memed on. Around September 2021 tntblr began reclaiming it (and if I remember correctly we had a boom of posts sharing the original artist about that time).

In this surge of new people beginning to ship those two that's been happening for the past year or so, I need you all to remember that quackbur started off first as a very underground ship that almost no-one spoke of, and then became a crack ship. The header on my blog doesn't come from a "ha ha funny" self deprecating meme. #twquackburshipping was a tag that someone seriously used to tag a post about how Eret commented on some tntduo/r tiktok.

I get how easy it is to forget how anti-mainstream of a ship quackbur used to be (or simply miss that, if you're newer - which, for the record, no shame, I'm happy to see the new faces!), considering ccQuackity's endorsement of it in the last months of dsmp, not to mention what's happening on qsmp, but all those "omg I'm a quackbur shipper ha ha don't hate me ha I'm cringe I know" jokes used to genuinely not be jokes something like 1,5 years ago.

I hope this explains it thoroughly, and to everyone a little bit newer to the ship: welcome! Glad to see you here, remember to have fun, and if you've got any questions, feel free to ask me :]]

#tnt duo #tntblr #tntduo #quackbur #c!quackbur #wilbur soot #quackityhq #wilbur #quackity #dsmp #dream smp #support art #revivedbur #qsmp

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topherwrites · 4 months

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FIC RECS: OUTER RANGE, OUTER BANKS, STRANGER THINGS

If I made a little comment about every single fic or series here, it would be inhumanely long, so I've refrained from doing so and have just put the summaries for each. This is split into two parts, TGM fics and everything else.

I hope that anyone who reads this list finds something that they love on it just as much as I do! If I missed you, I'm sorry, there was a lot to sort through!

SOME OF THESE ARE 18+, PLEASE HEED THE INDIVIDUAL WARNINGS!

RHETT ABBOTT

Yellow Soul by @creatchie8

Trapped in a relationship with your high school sweetheart Perry is like a never ending nightmare of always stepping on eggshells. One winter break changes everything as you are reintroduced to his younger brother, Rhett. Looking for an escape, Rhett provides the perfect shelter you crave.

right where i want you by @sushiwriterhere

Standing there, staring at the cotton balls in the trash, some part deep inside of you decides that it’s now or never with Rhett.

Odds are Stacked by @sunlightmurdock

In which Rhett loses a bet and you lose your virginity.

Wayfaring Stranger by @/sunlightmurdock

Betrayal sends Rhett veering further West, searching for answers and searching for himself. Instead, he finds you.

Much Love by @southpawbitch

you & rhett have found yourselves in a little fwb situation despite the fact that you have a fiancé.

About Last Night by @delopsia

A self-indulgent take on Rhett's best friend coming back to Wabang and surprising him after his final rodeo.

Dancing Beneath the Moon by @/delopsia

How is it that your heart only longs for the ghost of a cowboy? And why do you get the feeling that his heart utters the same for you?

Closing Time by @youvebeenlivingfictional

“You’re having a helluva night, huh,” You comment. “S’that supposed to mean?” “You got a shit bull, then you struck out with that girl…And you failed to bait Luke Tillerson into trying to kick your ass.”

RAFE CAMERON

Untouchable by @boneblushed

It is crucial that the head boy and girl of Kildare Academy work together. Too bad the head girl is you and the head boy is Rafe Cameron.

Glitch by @/boneblushed

Rafe has a bad fall on the ski slopes. A temporary amnesiac, he falls in love with you all over again.

So Gorgeous It Actually Hurts by @/folkloreslovechild (deactivated)

childhood enemies to lovers, the slowest of burns, an unbearable amount of pining, both parties in heavy denial for like 90% of the fic, Rafe’s a total douchebag but he can’t help it (you’re gorgeous).

Euro Trip by @/folkloreslovechild (deactivated)

europe summer trip au!

new light by @outerbankies

you come home from college to spend your last summer before senior year in your hometown of the outer banks. an old friend hits you up wanting something more, and you begin to see what’s really been there all along.

You Belong With Me by @forevermoreharrington

Rafe’s fallen helplessly for his dream girl but she just doesn't see it yet.

tis the damn season by @atlabeth

When your roommate Rafe lies to his family that the two of you are dating, you agree to go home with him for the holidays to help sell it as his fake girlfriend after a generous bribe. It's just three weeks in the Outer Banks with one of your best friends -- what could go wrong?

Armour by @probably-writing-x

Having your heart broken was one thing. But Rafe watching somebody break your heart? That was something nobody could prepare for.

So We Won't Forget by @netegf

you meet rafe cameron at a grief support group while he struggles with the loss of his father. he's trying to be a better man, and you can't help but love him for it.

Hate It When You Leave by @/netegf

you are trying to cope with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with your best friend. He's trying to cope with the fact that you don't go after the things you want… including him.

I Know I Am by @bookofbonbon

For Rafe, it's always been you. He's just waiting for you to realise it too.

STEVE HARRINGTON

redamancy by @sanguineterrain

redamancy (n.) - the act of loving someone who loves you back; a love returned in full // or, four times you kissed Steve Harrington, and one time he finally kissed you back.

dancing with our hands tied part i | part ii by @taintedcigs

in which steve is in love with his best friend's ex.

EDDIE MUNSON

Pearl by @cacoetheswriting

a story about two kids trying to navigate through love and loss, inevitable goodbyes, various reunions, friendships and hardships, joy, heartbreak, plus surviving the upside down - all to the sound of Janis Joplin's Pearl.

#rhett abbott x reader #rafe cameron x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #rafe cameron #eddie munson #rhett abbott #steve harrington #fic rec list #fic rec

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bella-rose29 · 4 months

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Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 7

the mistletoe scene I have to give credit to the lovely @novelizt because of this post

this is basically just 3.5k words of fluff to make up for all the pain I put you through the last two parts

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: swearing, making out (it's happening people, but also it's mildly in detail so for the one tiny paragraph feel free to skip if you're either not comfortable with it or not old enough), Will asks the important questions (both sensible and not), brief mentions of self-esteem issues? lockwood is a bit silly at the end, actually they both are

series master list

(why does he look like this :3 😭)

"What?" Y/n breathed. She wasn't entirely sure that she'd heard Lockwood correctly.

"I said that I think I've fallen for you."

He looked so sincere, his eyes more vulnerable than she had ever seen them before, and Y/n felt her heart constrict in her chest.

"You..."

"I know, I know." He rubbed his hand over his face, turning to lean back against the window. The mistletoe still hung at his side in his other hand.

"But you were horrible to me! From the very start!"

"I know. I was awful to you that first night and my only excuse is that I was exhausted and in desperate need of my bed, which I know isn't good enough. And then when you came in for your interview I just didn't want to be the one responsible if anything happened to you - wait, that came out wrong. You walked into the doorframe, Y/n. I was worried that you'd hurt yourself on a job, and I didn't want to get too attached to you in case that happened and you got injured or hospitalised or worse and I couldn't do anything to stop it. When I saw how easily the others took to you I knew that I was doomed," he let out a laugh, shaking his head. Y/n hoped he realised how ridiculous he sounded. "I know that doesn't excuse my actions, Y/n, but I meant what I said about that job we took in March. I really thought I wouldn't get there in time and I was terrified."

"Lockwood... you can't just... say that! I mean, you have said some genuinely horrible things to me and now you're saying that you - you what? That you-"

"I don't know!" he cried, filled with exasperation. "Alright? I don't know how else to describe it! I don't know if how I feel is love because I've never felt like this before, but I do know that I care about you far more than I should given I'm your boss, and I really don't know what would happen to me if you got seriously hurt, alright?" He was out of breath, cheeks flushed as he looked at her, and Y/n felt her own face heating up at his admission.

"Okay, okay," she said quietly, still processing everything he'd said. They stayed there for a few minutes, both leaning back against the windows as they tried to figure out what the hell they were going to do now. "I don't..." Y/n broke off with a sigh. She needed to phrase this right or they would be in even deeper shit than they were before. "I don't think I can just... forgive you, Lockwood. You have a lot - and I mean a lot - of grovelling to do to make up for how you've treated me these last few years." He nodded frantically, hope starting to shine in his eyes.

"Anything," he said. "Anything at all." She knew that he meant it.

"And I want to go on more cases if I'm staying at the company, because you can't just keep me behind because you think I'll walk into a doorframe."

"Done." He paused for a moment, looking like he wanted to say something else. "But you have-"

"Nope! No protests, thank you!" He stopped talking immediately, looking rather like a lost puppy as he gazed at her. "No more hating each other, either, although I feel like that's a given. And the first date had better be fucking incredible, alright?"

"... First... date?"

"Yeah, keep up, Schmoopie." She couldn't deny how her heart lifted at the sight of Lockwood looking so happy, and when he grinned her responding smile was involuntary.

"Wait... so do you... you know. How do you feel, about..." he waved his hands vaguely in the air, then accidentally hit himself in the face with the mistletoe. "Shit, I think that went in my eye. I forgot I was holding that," he grumbled, and Y/n didn't bother biting back her snort. He sent her a glare, but there was only amusement behind it.

"I don't really know, Lockwood."

"Anthony."

"What?"

"If we're going to start dating I'd much rather you called me Anthony." He blushed and went quiet as he looked out the window. "I like it better when you call me Anthony anyway. Sorry, I uh, I interrupted you."

"Oh, no, that's... that's alright. Uh... yeah. Like you said, I don't know how to describe it. I know that it really hurt me when you said that you wouldn't ever feel the same way, and I guess I just didn't want to admit to myself that I care about you a lot too because you were such a huge arsehole to me-"

"Yes, got it, sorry again."

"-but I do care about you, Anthony. A lot. And honestly that does annoy me because I'm pretty sure I've liked you since we met because I did think you were really gorgeous, except then you were really rude and-"

"Wait wait wait wait wait," he exclaimed, waving his hands in front of him. "You think that I'm gorgeous?"

Now it was Y/n's turn to feel her face heat up, and she swatted at his hands. "I did, yeah. Then you opened your mouth."

"Oh."

"Yeah." She waited a moment, then spoke again. "If you must know, I still think you're gorgeous," she muttered, and Anthony lit up, a smug smile landing on his face. Surprisingly she'd missed them, and while she still felt the burning flames in her body at the sight of that stupid smirk, it was no longer hatred.

He stepped forward a little (only a little, since they were back to being incredibly close to each other) and held the mistletoe in both of his hands. "Your grandma Jean gave it to me," he said. "She told me we might need it because it used to be a symbol of peace, and if people met under it they had to stop fighting." They both had been looking down at the plant, but when Anthony lifted his head so did she, and her breath caught in her throat at the look in his eyes.

"So you want to kiss me again?"

"I mean, I wouldn't be entirely opposed to that, if you're offering."

"Really? Really, Anthony?" Her tone was joking, but she felt him move back almost imperceptibly when she didn't immediately agree to it, and her heart skipped a beat when she realised he was waiting for her permission.

"Well I can't kiss you if we aren't under it, can I? So I don't know what you're so worried about, darling."

"Better try and catch me then if you want a kiss," she teased, and leapt away a second later.

"We're running now? When we've just had a huge meal?" He stepped forward anyway, and Y/n laughed with pure joy when he started chasing her around the room, attempting to catch her but just missing every time. Finally she tripped, catching her foot on the corner of the bed, and Anthony swept her into his arms to stop her from hitting the floor. Instead they hit the mattress, Y/n landing on her back and Anthony on top of her, his arms bracing his body while he still clutched the mistletoe in his left hand. They were both breathing heavily from the last five minutes of running and laughing, and now their faces were so close together that they were essentially kissing already.

Anthony held up the mistletoe over their heads the best he could while simultaneously not collapsing on Y/n, and he raised his eyebrows at her. "May I kiss you, darling?" She couldn't speak, so she nodded instead, and within a second his mouth was on hers, somehow better than it had been the first time. It was tentative and small, and he pulled back to flick his gaze between her eyes and her lips. It had left her breathless despite how short it had been, and before she could think they were crashing into each other with the same passion as they had the night before, her hands lifting to grab his hoodie and his hair in desperation. At some point Anthony dropped the mistletoe to move his hand to her waist and bring her closer to him.

There was nothing but him, nothing but the weight of his body on top of hers and his hands touching her and his tongue in her mouth, and then he was pulling back for air and she was chasing after his lips, and he was smiling down at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

For whatever reason, they started laughing, Anthony dropping his head to nestle in the crook of her neck while Y/n wrapped her arms around his torso to bring him impossibly closer.

"So... does this mean I can call you my girlfriend?" he asked, hope making him light up like the Christmas tree they had in the living room.

"Yes, Anthony, you can call me your girlfriend," she laughed, and it turned into a snort when he got up and did a celebratory dance. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Oh, believe me darling, I am fully aware."

~~~

"Hey, Squeak. You alright?"

Y/n had been sitting in the library, staring out the window at the snow that had started falling while she tried to concentrate on the book in her hands. Anthony had been called into the living room by her parents, and they'd parted with a not-so-small kiss just out of view of her family. Will had apparently managed to find her, and was settling into the opposite side of the window seat that she was occupying. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno. You seemed a bit... off. At dinner. Is everything alright with you and Lover Boy?"

"Oh," her face burned at the memory of what had happened barely twenty minutes ago. "Yeah, we're all good." She awkwardly sent him a thumbs up, her smile more of a grimace than anything else, and Will looked unconvinced.

"What's really going on, Y/n/n? Because if I need to beat him up-"

"NO! No, don't... don't beat up my boyfriend, please." It felt weird calling Anthony her boyfriend now, despite it being more real than it ever had been before. "Really, we're fine."

"Fine? You're fine? What did you two talk about upstairs? Because I'm pretty sure I heard shouting."

"We were just..." At the look on her brother's face she trailed off, and glanced at the door to make sure it was closed. "What exactly did Mum say when she got off the phone with me a few days ago?"

"What do you mean?"

"When she told people that I had a boyfriend, what did she say? How did you find out?"

"Mum went into the kitchen to take your call because we were all in here playing board games, and then we heard her shout 'You have a boyfriend?!' and Linda went to investigate, and then you turned up with Lover Boy."

"And are you sure that Mum wasn't just... making it up for some reason?"

"Why would she make it up?"

"Because I didn't have a boyfriend, Will."

"But... if you don't have a boyfriend then why the hell are you making out with your boss?"

"We are not making out!"

"Sure. But when you kissed yesterday under that mistletoe," he pointed to where it hung over the library door, "I definitely saw tongue."

"WILL!" She picked up the nearest pillow and chucked it at his head, then hid her face behind her book. "Oh my god, this is not happening."

"Ok, but that still doesn't answer my question," he said after half-heartedly throwing the pillow back at her. "If you didn't have a boyfriend, then why is your boss here saying that you're dating?"

"Because I made him. We actually can't stand each other. Or, we couldn't. We made up. Ugh, this is complicated. We have hated each other for about three years and then when Mum said very loudly that I was bringing my boyfriend to Christmas in front of Linda I didn't have much of a choice but to bring someone or face utter humiliation. Apparently nobody wanted to go to the middle of the countryside for three days with a complete stranger and pretend to be her boyfriend so I had to ask Anthony because George was already busy, and honestly I think we did a pretty good job of hiding the fact that we hated each other."

"And the shouting was you making up? Or were you angrily making out?"

"Will! Fuck's sake! Making up. I did tell him he's got a lot of grovelling to do, but now we're actually together."

"So you did make out."

"What's with the weird obsession about whether or not I'm making out with him?"

"I just like making you uncomfortable. That's my job."

"Well quit your job and get a different one." They sat in silence for a while, just staring out the window at the dark landscape. Although she knew that Will couldn't see them, she still pointed out the few ghostly figures that she saw. Her Sight wasn't nearly as good as Anthony's when she wasn't using her Touch, but she could still make out the glowing shapes in the fields.

"While we're on the topic of jobs... I'm guessing you're not leaving the company anymore," he said after a while.

"What?" she asked, startled by his words. "What do you mean?"

"I heard you at dinner, Squeak. You said you were gonna leave the company. I didn't hear anything else 'cause Nanna Jean was talking to me about her garden again for like, the eighth time today, but when I heard you say that... I dunno. You love your job, and I didn't think there was anything that would make you leave it."

"I wouldn't have stopped being an agent, I would have just moved company. He said a lot of mean things, and in fairness I said some horrible shit too, but he's not got that much power over me."

"Squeak... are you sure you wanna be dating him? If he hurt you so bad that you wanted to leave the company then I don't know if it's the best idea," Will frowned, concern in every inch of his body.

"I know. If he fucks this up then I am leaving. Properly. Because I know that it's not... ugh, I don't know. I was just tired of not being treated in the same way that he treated the others, and he's explained why he was like that, and he was weirdly similar to a puppy when he apologised - not that that convinced me to date him, by the way - and I really hurt him too, over the years."

"Just... out of interest... what exactly did you say to each other that made you start hating each other this much?"

"I was walking back from a solo case, walked into him, apologised, stepped on his shoes, and he told me that he'd just bought them in the most stuck-up voice I had ever heard and it pissed me off." Will stared at her.

"That's... it?"

"To be fair I then went for an interview at his company, didn't realise it was him, and the moment I walked in he went 'we don't want agents like you' or something, so... you know!"

"Okay... that's still not a lot though. You really started what, three years of hatred based on... on that?"

"Well, when you put it that way it sounds stupid, but-"

"No, no 'buts', missy," Will said, waggon his finger at her. "It is just plain stupid. Did you actually hurt each other or were you too busy being idiots?"

"In fairness I really struggle with keeping up to other peoples' standards, alright?! And it did hurt that nothing I did ever seemed to be enough to make him like me!"

"With the way he was talking about you, he definitely likes you. And thinks you're good enough. You have nothing to worry about there, that's for sure." Y/n flushed at Will's words, thinking back to what she'd overheard Anthony say in this same room the day before.

"So explain to me your feelings on this? Because I feel like you went through every emotion known to man just now."

"I initially thought you two were great together because you're a lot more confident in yourself when he's around, then you told me you weren't together and I was incredibly confused, then you told me that you hated each other and I was even more confused, then you told me that you are actually together now and I was happy, and then you told me that he was horrible to you and I wanted to beat him up, and then you told me that you stepped on his shoes and that's why you hate each other and I was confused again. Make sense?"

"Just about. It wasn't just me stepping on his shoes that-"

"Nope!" Will turned his head away, lifting his hand out in front of him to stop her. "I don't want to hear anymore of this silliness, thank you very much!"

"But it-"

"Nope!" Will pushed forward, grabbing the pillow that he had earlier thrown back to Y/n and whacked her around the head with it. "Nope, nope, nope!" Each 'nope' was punctuated with another hit, and Y/n barely had time to pick up the other pillow and fight back before he was swinging again.

~~~

"Hey," Y/n whispered to Anthony as she came over. He had been sat in the loveseat again (he was almost completely certain that Y/n's family were leaving it specifically for the two of them to use, since her five siblings were squished up on one of the sofas most of the time), and he put down his mug of tea to help her sit comfortably.

"Hi," he whispered back, immediately wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back to curl into him. She brought her legs up to hook over his and was turned sideways in the seat, her head nestling into his shoulder. He picked up his tea again and was about to take a sip when Will burst into the living room, board game in hand and a slightly crazed look in his eyes.

"We're playing Yahtzee! Everybody take a sheet, you don't have a choice in this!"

"Is this the one you're terrible at?" Anthony asked, speaking quietly into Y/n's ear, and he chuckled when she slapped his arm.

"You can't be terrible at Yahtzee, Anthony, it's a fucking dice game. It's based on luck, idiot."

"Oh, right, silly me. I meant charades. That one you are truly awful at."

"Just because you get really into it and put on ridiculously large hats doesn't mean I'm awful at it," she responded indignantly. "Also, by the way, the use of props is against the rules of charades, so technically you've lost every single one you've done."

"I have not!" he jokingly started, putting on an accent and pretending to be mad. "I am the best at charades! How dare you accuse me of- mmph!" Y/n shut him up by pressing a kiss to his lips, and while he sat there for a moment with his eyes wide open and his posture incredibly tense, he quickly relaxed into it. He still wasn't used to kissing her, and he didn't think that he ever would be, and when she pulled away a few seconds later he was left to chase after her mouth while she giggled.

"Sure, whatever makes you happy, Ant." That was another thing he'd never get used to. The way she said his name. He didn't think he'd heard anything sweeter, and then she was laughing at something one of her family members had said and he realised that he would spend his whole life documenting which of all the things she did was the most heavenly.

"You're what makes me happy, darling," he mumbled, not expecting her to hear. She looked round at him, surprise on her face. He thought she might say something nice in response, but instead when she opened her mouth something else came out.

"You are so cheesy, Anthony Lockwood."

"I'm just getting started, darling. Like you said, I have a lot of grovelling to do. I hope you're ready for how cheesy I can be." Y/n wrinkled her nose in disgust, but the wide grin on her face gave her away.

"That sounded weird," she said, and he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her nose. He shrugged in response.

"You're just going to have to get used to it, I'm afraid."

"Good. Hopefully you'll finish all the grovelling needed by the time you're about thirty, then."

"I'm grovelling every second of every day if it means I get to keep you near me, darling," he replied, and he revelled in the flush that crept up her neck. He accepted his score sheet from Will (who was getting very serious about the game, making sure that nobody would be cheating by using loaded dice), and took a sip of tea.

Then he nearly spat it out when he fully registered what Y/n had said.

"Thirty?!"

part 8

Tag list (once more hoping that this is everyone): @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @bobbys-not-that-small, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12

let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the tag list! <3

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #enemies to lovers #fake dating #christmas #deck the halls (and not your partner)

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sometipsygnostalgic · 26 days

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i'm losing my mind how are there STILL ACTIVE CATRA HATE BLOGS it's been FOUR YEARS how are you still this mad about a female abuse victim!!!!!! how do you STILL not get it!!!!!!!!!!

I have been in enough fandoms to understand that some of the people who stick around the longest are those who act the most scarred after watching the media. It's like stockholme syndrome. Or it's like hating the thing is what gives them drive in the world.

I have also been on the other side of this. I remained a Homestuck blog for a whole four years after the ending made me depressed about Terezi Pyrope, even lasting an additional year and a half after the dogshit epilogues released, through to the demise of Hiveswap and Homestuck^2, before I realised enough was enough and let Adventure Time give me sanctuary again.

But Homestuck had its Gamzee fans who hated the comic and fandom, Adventure Time had its Lemongrab fans who hated the show and fandom, and it seems She-ra has its fair share of antis.

The She-ra antis consist of the following groups, from my observation:

Former fans who got obsessed with some other show and have to bash She-ra because it ain't cool anymore. Usually Owl House fans but can be from anywhere. Their hate is universally connected to propping something else up, and is never done in isolation.

Hordak fans who hate Catra and maybe every other character and crew member and the show. There are a lot of the reverse, Catra fans who hate Hordak, which is part of why this group is so persistent, as a "counter" to this Hordak hate. However, the Catra fans who are Hordak antis MOSTLY do not hate the show (they are just... out of touch with it and generally have bad takes). I've seen one or two extreme cases of Catra apologists accusing Adora, Scorpia, and even Entrapta of abuse, but they were completely alone in their feelings. The Hordak fans who hate Catra tend to also hate Glimmer, Mermista, Adora, Bow, and say that the show is ableist or whatever, but they do not actually harbor much love for Entrapta. Her victimisation is an excuse for their behaviour and they have no understanding of her chaotic character. Do not interact.

Glimmadora fans (the ones who purely seem to exist to make 'Spop Is Abusive' posts). Why the fuck Glimmadora fans hate the show so much, I do not understand. But these are probably the most In-Your-Face of these three groups. While the Hordak fans mentioned above have a lot of similarity to Homestuck Gamzee fans or Adventure Time Lemongrab fans in the weird way they'll hate on the show for doing their blorbo wrong, Glimmadora fans don't have that evidence because they don't really care about Glimmer or Adora. They have absolutely nothing to say about the show, other than that it is Bad. My theory on these Glimmadora fans is that they really liked the Glimmer and Adora ship on a superficial level, and then the show decided to have its Deeper Themes and give Catra and Adora a messy, complicated relationship. There was a lot happening after season 3 where people went "CATRADORA IS REALLY ABUSIVE AND CATRA IS HORRIBLE AND YOU SHOULDNT SHIP HER WITH ANYONE". This period was SO fucking harmful to the fandom that it never recovered, so much work was lost and deleted from AO3. People would say "Glimmadora is a much better ship anyway". But then when season 4 rolled around and, uhh, Glimmer was acting like a little shit all season (for good reason but she really fucked things up with Adora), and Glimmadora crumbled into ash? Well the Glimmadora truthists felt like the show was working against them and that Season 5 was a grand conspiracy to make the Abusive ship Catradora canon!!! The funniest part of this is I sympathise a lot with these feelings. I used to be a Glimmadora truther myself when I watched the show in fall 2021. I was like, "wow, look how nice this ship is. And they go with catradora in the end?? Fucking HOW???". But then seasons 4 and 5 happened and.... yeah, I was disappointed with how Glimmer and Adora's friendship ended up, but I was ENAMORED by the messiness of Catra's character and how raw her and Adora felt about each other even in spite of all the bullshit. I never made excuses about the show being abuse apologising. I analysed it purely in how believable the relationships were and what the intentions of the characters are.

Of these groups, the ones responsible for the most actual SPOP Anti blogs are undoubtedly the Glimmadoras. The only time I've seen something similar, so many antis appearing, was because of Steven Universe ship wars. You have NO IDEA how petty people feel about Lapidot, Amedot, all the dots, all the amethysts. A crew member was chased off the internet over it, or left the internet over the show's own decisions, depending on whether you believe the """screenshots""" that were taken of Zuke's ""private blog""".

#she ra #spop #catradora

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gabigabigabby · 11 months

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hi can you do where jude tells the reader he’s leaving for madrid soon and she gets upset that he’s leaving so she tries to live their last days together to the fullest

madrid is waiting | j. bellingham

jude bellingham x fem!reader

a/n: so happy that jude has signed w real madrid! his run at dortmund was beautiful <3 can't wait to see what the future holds for him. this is a little bit short too, i haven't mastered the jude bellingham fics yet. enjoy! ⭐️

synopsis: jude announces to you that he'll be leaving for madrid in a week

—

you hate when jude had to sit you down because he had something to tell you. you hated it so badly. at the same time, you loved listening to him talk.

"babe, i just want you to know that it hurts me just as much to have to break it to you." jude begins. lucky for him, you already what he's talking about.

"you're going to real madrid." you admit, but you did it with a smile on your face. because you really were happy for him, and you'd do everything in your power to be there with him.

"yeah," jude says. "and i know that you applied to school here at dortmund and you can't appeal for online school instead. you know how much i want you there with me in madrid."

your eyebrows pull together. "of course, jb. but i get it. i mean, let's be honest here, you put your career and me on the scale..." you hold out your hands in front of him; one stood for his career and the other for you, you let your left hand drop to your legs. "your career is way more important, jude."

"i don't even want to think about that." jude shakes his head, burying his face in his hands.

"so don't think about it," you decide. "we are just going to spend these last few days i have with you. and we're going to spend it to our fullest."

after a couple minutes of silence, jude finally comes up with a decision. "we're going to a theme park."

"okay."

tickets were booked that very same day, and the next day, you and jude were in the car driving over to a theme park in dortmund. you immersed yourself in every moment with him. you made sure you were touching him, no matter where you were. his hand would always be in yours, on the ride queues, he'd always have you in his arms. doesn't really matter what you two were talking about, you were always talking.

at the end of the night, jude drove the two of you over to mcdonald's, sat in the car and ate till you can't eat.

the next day, you and jude spent the day café-hopping all around dortmund. you drank a lot of coffee, he ate a lot of croissants. by the end of the day, you both were delirious. you didn't sleep the entire night. you talked about anything and everything. you didn't complain, though. you knew you were gonna miss these late night talks when he's all the way in madrid.

the last day was probably the most painful day. when you woke up, jude was already packing his suitcase. "didn't expect you'd wake up this early, babe." he says, stopping himself from packing and walking over to his side of the bed.

"no, go on." you say, attempting to push him out, hoping he'd continue packing.

"that can wait," jude shrugs it off. "what'd you wanna do today?"

"nothing. just wanna stay here. with you." you say, getting comfortable in jude's arms.

"good answer," jude hums, as you realise he was wearing his dortmund shirt. "i'm gonna miss wearing yellow, y'know."

"don't think about it, jb. think about the club you're going to play for next. real madrid is a huge deal. think about all the friends you're gonna make." you explain. you can imagine the new friendships he'll make. with vini jr, rodrygo, luka modric, aurelien tchouameni.

"madrid is a beautiful place to be, innit?" he chuckles.

"absolutely. i've been there a few times, you're gonna love it there." you smile to yourself.

"i promise you i'm always gonna fly you out there. anytime you're free, just text me." jude reminds, though you were not surprised, you knew he was going to tell you that.

"i'm actually appealing to the uni if i could move my year online. if they say yes, then—"

"you can move to madrid with me!" jude jumps off the bed. you nod your head. "aww, that is bloody fuckin' great! uni, please say yes." he's on his knees now.

"i hope they say yes too."

"i love you. okay? you can't forget that. i'll be in madrid waiting for you." jude says, getting on the bed and kneeling before you.

"i know, jb," you say, touching his face. "i'll be in madrid very soon."

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham x reader #jb22 #football #football x reader #football x y/n #football x you #borussia dortmund #real madrid

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acesofspadess · 2 months

Text

Rewind

I definitely published this a bit out of order but bare with me

“Hello Team Niall.” Niall introduced as they all waved and greeted him back. “Well, I've got a bit of news for you. Because of my concert schedule, I actually won't be in town for knockout rehearsals.” Everyone was shocked… and rightfully so. “Because I won't be there, I've chosen another coach to come in and mentor you guys for rehearsal.” Everyone started to freak out wondering who on earth it might be.

“And they have been in your place before so I think they’ve got exactly what you need.”

The scene changed to the all too familiar practice room with an empty directors chairs. The sounds of steps progressively got louder until the special person appeared.

“I'M BACK!”

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let's rewind a bit.

~~~~~~

A day or two after The Voice Finale

“Hi I’m Maia Quinn, and I'm the Season 23 winner of The Voice, and we're hanging out with Rob on Front Row Live.”

“Go with me.” Niall moaned into your mouth as you straddled him. “Where?” you question kissing down his neck. “Boston. I know it's last minute and we’d leave in the morning-” you shut him up with a kiss and a roll of your hips, his hands tightening against your thighs. “Just wake me up an hour before we leave.”

Sitting at the desk of you and Niall’s shared hotel room the morning of May 26th you had early interviews to get through before you were meant to go to the festival. You looked over the camera to see Niall already looking at you.

“Maia congratulations. What a night you had a few nights ago.” Rob praised and you smiled adjusting your airpod. “I am super excited for you and your career and your future. Especially because you're starting so young. You have enough time to kind of like, continue to evolve, and understand your voice; learn a lot more about yourself throughout this process. Talk to me about this process of your experience here on the voice and how you've evolved as a vocalist and a performer.” The interview was more than you could ever imagine.

“Now your relationship with Niall this season has had fans going crazy. From the after performance hugs to the duet, and the after party, what can you tell us about that?”

You saw Nialls face peak over the laptop screen and stayed neutral. “Niall has been the most supportive and very encouraging. He has become one of my best friends through this whole journey. I lost a lot of my confidence during the pandemic unfortunately. It made me think that I would never be able to do things that I certainly could do and Niall- all these years later- has been there to remind me that I probably can do them, and then make me do it. So our friendship and relationship has been so important to me. He is my best friend across the charts and he’d hate me for saying this, but I wouldn't be here without him.”

“Last question before we go. Is there anything we can look forward to seeing soon? Maybe another EP?”

You smiled glad you were able to share some information on what was coming next. “All I'll say now is, look for me on stage back home.” you winked dramatically knowing those who would get it would get it.”

“That's amazing, I'll definitely keep my eyes peeled. It was so great having you on. I hope to see you in person soon.”

“Bye!”

``````````````

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User10 i'm actually really happy she won

User2 wait…Slane is in Ireland…..

User6 I just learned she had an EP…. what?!?!?!?

Being at Boston Calling with him

“Boston, Massachusetts, how you doing?” he asked the crowd after he finished ‘Heaven’. The loud response made him smile excitedly. “Holy shit! This is crazy.” you face palmed knowing he was going to slip up sooner or later. “Thank you all so much for coming out to see me. I really appreciate it.” they cheered again as he sipped his water. You watched as he looked at the amount of people and a smile formed on your face.

“This is uhm- this is actually my first ever Festival.” he let out a breath at the realisation. “I've definitely been drunk at a few.” you laughed at him with the rest of the crowd. “But I've never played at any and for that reason I'm absolutely shitting myself.” he said looking at you knowing you would calm him, and him seeing you laugh did just the trick.

“But thank you for being here. I know some of you guys have been queuing for years.” he looked around at the signs “My girlfriend showed me this earlier ‘i travelled four thousand miles to be here from Brazil’ your eyes went wide at the declaration and the deafening screams were present. He subtly looked in your direction and saw your reaction, his worry diminished as he saw you smiling making him smile. “Makes you feel bad from coming just down the road doesn't it? ‘I came from round New York’.” he mocked, “awe who cares.” he laughed with them and you hid a big smile behind your hands.

~~~~

You walked the same route you came flashing your pass when you reached the gate and made your way in to see Niall. When you saw him you squealed and ran over to him. He turned when he heard you and caught you in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist and he spun you both around hands on the swell of your bum.

“I'm so proud of you!” you screamed and he laughed before he was kissing you passionately. It was quick as many more pecks through giggles followed. “I can not explain to you how happy i am.” he whispered in shock as you were sitting in the trailer behind the stage and he was getting changed. “You should be so happy, my love. That was incredible, and I am so so proud of you.” he smiled at you before grabbing your hand and kissing the ring on it. “You make me so happy, baby girl.” you melted at his words and stood up to kiss him softly. “And you make me the happiest girl, Ni.”

You surprising Niall at his Zane Lowe interview and him outing you

You knew Niall was disappointed when you told him you wouldn't be able to make it to his Zane Lowe interview today. He was really excited for this one and wanted you to be there. It was only a few days later that you flew from Boston down to LA for the interview. You were working on last minute stuff for the announcement today and you were nowhere close to done when he was getting ready to leave.

“I'm sorry love.” you kissed his pout away as you both stood by the door of his LA house. “I know, it’s okay. I know why you can’t make it, and for that I am so very proud.” he melted his lips against yours as your hands went to the curls on the back of his neck and he wrapped his went straight to your bum.

~~~

Niall was watching Zane play his songs and the guitar with a big smile a few hours after he left. “There are some pretty songs on this record bro.” Zane complimented as he switched playing from ‘The Show’ to ‘You could start a cult’. You who had just made it into the studio to surprise Niall were standing behind the glass watching him, waiting for him to notice.

“Thank you very much.'' He cut through Zanes music. “This one kills me.” Zane admitted as Niall caught on to what he was playing. “Yeah.” he cheered Zane on softly, finally noticing you. You saw his smile widened and you waved softly. “You Could Start A Cult.” he named distractedly, still looking at you as if he looked away you would disappear.

~~~

“Kingdoms fighting over you,” Niall continued. “I think that like they’re the ones- that could have very easily been, ‘ i like waking up beside you and you're my favourite person.” he joked easily. “But ‘you could start a war’.” you shook your head at his lyrical genius. “Do you ever crack yourself up with it?”

‘Yeah it was something silly at first but now everyone's obsessed with it. It started with me and my girlfriend now, when we met we would watch crime shows together over facetime,” he exposed and you chuckled at his laugh.

‘You say girlfriend now, sorry if i'm over stepping but..” zane trailed off

“No,” he shrugged off looking at you, who nodded, “she was not my girlfriend at the time, she is now, is what that meant.”

“So did she not know the song was for her?”

“She didn't know any song was for her- or about her I should say. The road from when we met to now has been a very dark windy tunnel, but we made it to the other end.”

“That's beautiful Niall, truly.” You smiled at him agreeing with Zane.

“This was the last song on the record that we wrote.” Niall confessed, and you wondered why. “Why, what was missing?” and without hesitation he pointed to you, “her.” Zane looked to where he was pointing and you waved happily at him. He waved back to you just as happy before turning to Niall with a face of shock. “No?” he gasped and Niall laughed, throwing his head back. “Yeah, I know. Way out of my league.” he watched you shake your head with an eye roll and he couldn't stop the smile from gracing his face.

“I could’ve gone and did what I did with the rest of the record and put BV’s all over it and strings and that was my plan - and John just said to me- because we we were not talking at the time…” he pointed between you and him, “...this is your message to,” he paused, ‘“ her’ keep it that way. Just you and your guitar and your feelings.”

And while there's much much more… you’ll see that soon

#nialler #cute niall #niall horan x reader #niall horan fluff #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan #niall horan smut #niall fanfic #niall one shot #one direction #solo niall #niall 1d #niall james horan #niall horan fic #niall the show #niall horan x y/n #niall imagine #niall horan x you #the show 2024

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angryschnauzer · 6 months

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I realised two months have gone by since i last updated you all, i'm not even sure if anyone is interested anymore. I know i haven't been on much, perhaps sporadically coming on and mindlessly reblogging Henry stuff just for a little escape, but its intermittent at best. I had hoped to be back to writing by now, but life is still a huge pile of shit.

I'm run ragged trying to pay the bills. My wedding decorations business is halfway between slow and dead; the cost of living crisis means weddings aren't really happening, and if they are most of the items i do people are making themselves. My side gig in ebay flipping is quiet too but at least its trickling by. I don't mention this much as people get a lot of abuse over 'thrift store flippers' (Charity Shop resellers here in the UK), but right now its what's keeping my family fed. I buy clothing for £1 from the stinky dregs bin in a charity shop, wash it, mend it, resell it for £4. I'm not making millions or even thousands. I'm lucky if i'm bringing in £150 a week which barely covers our weekly food shop. Its draining that when i do eventually mention this to my friends they immediately start moaning at me that i'm the one 'ruining' charity shops and why its pushing the prices up. But when i calmly tell them its that or i don't eat they go quiet. I'm not the one pushing a 2nd hand coat for £25 which was only £20 brand new which most high street charity shops are doing. Do i like doing this? No. Do i have to? Yes. Because i sure as ain't cute enough for onlyfans.

But the majority of my time over the last couple of months has been spent caring for our son. He's 8 and has type 1 diabetes, and since school started back in September one little shit in his class has spent every waking moment bullying him. This little shit has been stabbing my son with pencils, poking him in the kidneys with whatever he has to hand, laughing and sneering at him at every opportunity even when he's just walking past. Having the adrenaline and cortisol in my son's bloodstream affects how his insulin works, and he builds up an insulin resistance because of all the other hormones in his bloodstream. I've had so many meetings with the school, and have had to get the board of governors involved because when your 8 year old kid says quietly to you "It would be better if i wasn't alive as then *Little Shit* wouldn't be able to bully me" your heart breaks into pieces.

He needs my support more than anything, so every single other thing has been put by the wayside. And its tough. He acts out at home, messes around with his dinner because he feels he needs to be able to control something, but that in turn messes up insulin dosing so i'm spending half the night dealing with highs and lows for his blood sugars. I get at most 5 hours sleep a night.

I have no more energy left. I'm not eating, because i just can't stomach it. I'm 43 and hitting menopause, but my doctor doesn't want to know because "You just need to loose some weight" (don't get be started on fat bias from the NHS).

So i'm filling my time with volunteering at school so i can be 'around' for my Little Dude. He knows that if he's having an awful day, he will find me in the office sorting through paperwork for our next fundraiser. Its not what i want to be doing, but its what i need to be doing.

One day i hope to get back to my writing. I miss being creative and i hate that i have so many stories part written/published. As the months tick by i actually end up seeing stories written by others that have the same characters/plotlines. This is no-ones fault that two stories exist on the same synopsis, it would just seem that they and I have taken the same inspiration from media at some point. But it makes me scared that if i now publish a story i started 2 years ago, i'll be accused of stealing an idea. I don't know what to do. So i just leave my WIP folder abandoned.

For everyone that has stayed with me thank you. For those that have moved onto pastures new, i wish you well and hold no malice.

I do love you all

Mama Schnauz

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hannahssimblr · 1 month

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“Evan, can I sit?”

He glances up at me and shrugs, patting the ground next to him so I slump down heavily on it and take a healthy gulp from my bottle.

“You good, man?”

“Yeah, amazing.”

“I, uh, I see you were chatting to Leah, there? You know each other?”

“Nah.”

“Really? Well... she’s a weirdo anyway, you’re better off getting away from her, like, I just sell her weed and stuff, I don’t really like when she hangs around too long.”

“Yeah, fair enough.”

“Was she being weird with you?”

“Nope.”

We’re silent as we watch the flames. I begin to wonder what time it is, and whether I've stayed long enough now for it to be acceptable to go home. As I watch all of the other friends around the fire have fun together I’m struck by how much of an outsider I really am. Sure, Rob and Katie are nice, but will any of that niceness extend into normal life with the eyes of everyone else at school upon us? Surely they will go back to the steps at the back of the school while I go back to the rugby changing rooms, or the library, as it may be and things will resume as they are, as they've always been and always will be. Realistically, would they ever be seen with me? Would I ever be seen with them? There's this weird, empty feeling in me, a feeling that just compounds day after day, month after month, year after year, and it's like I don’t belong anywhere or to anyone. I'm just floating in the in-between, and who even am I? What does it mean to even-

“Hey,” Evan interrupts my spiralling inner dialogue, “I meant to say to you that it’s cool that you came along, you know, even when Jen and Michelle didn’t.”

This takes me by surprise, “You think?”

“Yeah, I mean, I suppose I kind of thought you were just hanging out with us sometimes because of them, and that you didn’t really want to be there, but,” a shrug, “I suppose that isn’t true.”

“No, I like hanging out with you.”

“And it’s not just because you’ve been ostracised by your other friends?”

I hesitate for a beat, “No.”

Evan laughs, “Wow, I’m so convinced!”

“No, come on,” I rock to the side and nudge his shoulder with mine, “Like, yeah, sometimes it’s nice to have Jen here, but I’m fine, I can handle myself around the emos… and as for Michelle, well, she hates me, so it’s actually kinda comfier when she’s not here, and- oh,” I realise immediately what I’ve said, “um, well I don’t really mean that, it-”

“No, it’s okay,” Evan says, “I know that you two aren’t exactly best friends or anything.”

“Ah, so she’s talked to you about me.”

“Nah, you’ve honestly never come up in conversation.”

“Somehow that’s worse.”

He snickers.

“How are, um,” I pick at the beer label with my thumb, “How are things going with you guys? Like, the last time we talked you were feeling kinda…”

A sigh, “Oh, yeah, it’s the same. Like, she’s so nice but sometimes I don’t feel like I get enough from her.”

“Uh huh.”

“I kind of get a bit annoyed about it sometimes, like, how are we supposed to be together properly if I hardly see her? Like, man, she’s allowed to come to my house like, once a week. In the afternoon. And that’s the only time we can… uh, hook up or whatever. It’s so annoying.”

“Just from an outsider's perspective, you know, you seem pretty happy.”

“Yeah. She’s definitely into me,” He musses up and fixes his fringe, “I dunno. It’s fine, just sometimes I wonder about shit. You know what I mean, right?”

“I’m probably not the best person to ask, seeing none of my relationships have worked out so far, and I’m also fairly drunk, so…”

“But you know what it’s like to be with someone who wouldn’t give you the things you needed, right?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“So you do get it.”

“Mm, I suppose,” as our conversation tapers off I let my mind drift into thoughts about love and loneliness and the hollow disappointment of all of my relationships. These are bitter, useless, self destructive thoughts as usual, made even worse by the fact that I’m not exactly capable of rational thought while inebriated. Is drinking bad for me? Am I a miserable drunk? I have to physically shake myself out of my own head before I start talking myself into a hole again.

I turn to Evan to start saying something else about, I don’t know, whether he’s ever tried pranking someone by turning their school bag inside out and putting the books back into it or something stupid like that, but I see he’s distracted by something else across the bonfire.

It’s that girl with the pink hair. She’s leaning over a bag to rummage for more beer, and her short skirt rides up when she’s bent over like that so that her underwear is visible through the sheer material of her tights. I frown at the dirty little smirk on his face, the way hungry eyes follow her movements, and the look between them as she glances over her shoulder and sees him watching her. I nudge my knee against his to interrupt whatever is going on.

“Wow, nice legs, huh?”

He looks at me, surprised, but lets out a rough laugh, “Yeah, for sure.”

“Is she into you or am I just seeing things?”

“Nah, I don’t know about that.”

“Oh, c’mon, no, I’m just messing with you, she just looked like… I dunno.”

“Like what?”

I shift awkwardly, “You know what, don’t mind me, I’ve had too much to drink, I thought I detected flirting, or whatever, I guess I was wrong.”

The girl kneels onto the ground and starts asking around for the bottle opener, and Evan doesn’t take his eyes away from her. “She’s pretty though, isn’t she?”

“Hm?”

“Carlie. That’s her name. She’s pretty, do you think?”

“She’s single?”

“Yep.”

“So are you trying to set me up with her or are you just pointing that out?”

“I’m not trying to set you up.” Evan seems agitated by this idea that I might try to date pretty Carlie, who, by the way, treats me like I am contagious. As though it’s any of his business what she does, as if he should even care. Something sour settles in my gut, but I can’t tell whether it’s that I'm weirded out by this conversation or if the alcohol is nauseating me.

“Right, well, she’s not my type,” I watch his face carefully, “Is she yours?”

“She’s pretty hot.”

Maybe he's looking for my approval or my agreement, which I don’t give him on purpose. To see where it leads me I respond with a benign, “Oh, you think?”

“Uh huh,” They catch eyes again and she smiles coyly and quickly looks away to resume her conversation. That’s flirtation. She’s flirting with him, and him back, right in front of my face.

“You know, a lot of people would consider your girlfriend to be pretty hot too.” It’s true, I’ve heard those rugby boys saying it before, the only time they ever had anything remotely complimentary to say about any of the emos was to point out the things they fancied about Michelle and what they might like to do to her if she A. wasn’t emo, or B. nobody knew, so that they wouldn’t have to suffer the social consequences. I feel disgusted again at this memory. I know where I was, sitting on the bench lacing up my boots and saying nothing while they spoke casual filth about a girl I know.

It’s a similar feeling to the one I have now at this bonfire with Evan, and maybe this is how he is when he’s drunk, maybe he just gets a bit… leery, but when he stares across the fire at someone who isn’t his girlfriend I swear I am looking at Willy FitzHerbert.

He waves my comment away, “Yeah but at least Carlie is interested in sex.”

“How do you know that?”

He leans closer, “Obviously because I’ve done it with her.”

“Yeah?” I say, “When?”

He smirks and says nothing.

I push him again. “A few years ago?”

He lowers his voice and looks at me with eyes that glitter with salacious excitement. I don’t think I’ve ever once seen another boy look so pleased with himself as he says: “Try a month ago.”

It takes all my self control not to react. I just pause for a second as a shock of revulsion rips through my body, I feel it from my feet to the top of my head, and then, when I decide to speak, my voice is strange to my own ears, “While you were with Michelle.”

A shrug, “It just happened on a night out when she wasn’t there. I dunno.”

“She doesn’t know?”

“Course not. She’d break up with me.”

“And... you don’t want that.”

“No, because we’re in love. This stuff with Carlie, it was just… you get what I mean. It’s not like that with her.”

I sigh, “Uh, yep.”

So it appears it is the same for Evan as it is for all the others. Michelle is the virgin, Carlie is the slut and he wants it all at the same time. A girl worthy of love, and a girl interested in sex, two things that cannot converge. There is no girl that can be both.

“It felt good to let loose with someone who knew what they were doing, and like, not have to think so hard about making the other person all safe and comfortable and, blah,” he rolls his eyes, “Carlie is cool.”

“Right, yeah, she seems it.”

“You get me, right? Guys like us, you know, we need to be able to just relax sometimes, not think so hard…”

“Yeah, for sure… Guys like us, huh?”

“Hell yeah!” He clinks his beer bottle against mine, “I knew you’d get it, honestly, I wasn’t sure if I should say something but I feel good now that you understand what I meant.”

I try to laugh but it sounds weird and strangled, so I bring the bottle to my lips in the hope that drinking will disguise my discomfort, or at the very least numb it a bit. I finish the last two thirds of it and toss it somewhere amongst the miscellaneous rubbish, remnants of a hundred other miserable bonfire nights on Dollymount strand.

Then, after a minute or two Evan nudges me again. It’s hard to look at him but I force myself to because it is what I would do if this situation was normal, “You’re not going to say anything, right? Like, to Michelle or Jen? Like I know you probably won’t...” A laugh as he adjusts his fringe, “That'd be insane, I know, but I wanted to make sure.”

“Me? Nah,” I say, “Why would you even have to ask? Don’t worry about it,” I scratch the back of my head, “your, uh, your secret is safe with me.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2009 #um!#ta daaa!#i wonder what he is going to do HM #tw: sex mention #tw: alcohol

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midnightcrw · 4 months

Text

Running away

Chapter 6

Opia

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader

Summary: Life really had it in for you. Just moving to a new apartment seemed to unleash a brand new hell

Warnings: non (please, tell me if there actually is anything triggering)

a/n: It's been a while since I've continued this story. So please tell me if I messed up anything storyline-wise, as I really hate rereading my own stories (it just gives me second-hand embarrassment). But I still hope that you all will like it.

"Laswell?"

The moment, her name left your mouth, you were about to slam the door shut. Your hand made its way to the door handle, ready to yank it shut. However, before the door could yield to your command, her hand intervened, stopping the impending closure with a firm grip.

"Running away won't make it disappear," her voice, a resonant sound, cut through the charged atmosphere. Her confident stare bored into you, as if challenging the very notion of avoidance. Laswell was no stranger to confrontation, a fact you knew all too well.

Ignoring any potential response, she invited herself in, rounding the shards of shattered glass on the floor. "I will-" you began, wanting say you were going to throw the shards away first, but Laswell, was more about busisness as the words began to leave her mouth, taking control "You won't do anything. Sit down."

You sighed heavily, you hated it when she was demanding. Especially now, when she just invited herself into your apartment as if she owned it.

But nonetheless, you complied as you made your way to the sofa. Seeing you move, Laswell crouched down to gather the sharp remnants in her hand. And while she was distracted with that, you studied her.

The sight of her stirred a visceral reaction in you. You hadn't expected to see her again after what had happened. It only made sense that the two of you buried the past six feet into the ground. Yet, there she stood, invading your life once more.

And she looked the same as she did that day. Still blonde with a hint of brown mixed in, and the bangs didn't leave either. Only the length of her hair had changed. It had been much shorter then, just under her chin, and now it seemed much longer.

Her eyes were still as strikingly blue as you remembered them to be. Possessing an almost soul-penetrating quality, that's what it felt like to make eye contact with her.

The only differences, were the few wrinkles on her face, probably from all the stress of her life. Just like back then, you thought.

Laswell was known to work herself into the ground, far too goal driven to ever slow down. But that was, what made you two get along. You both shared a common drive, a relentless pursuit of success that, unbeknownst to you, painted a target on your backs.

Pretty much dangerous, though. People knew the two of you would do anything to succeed, and that was your doom. They had their eyes on you from day one, but you just didn't realise it. And the realisation itself came much too late.

"How have you been doing?" The sudden question yanked you out of your thoughts, prompting an involuntary flinch. Laswell had already finished and was sitting next to you at a cautious distance.

"Alright, I guess," you replied, not at all wanting to have a conversation with her, emotions stirred by her unexpected reappearance. You hadn't expected for her to come, and you were more than willing to show your distaste for it.

Hearing your reply, Laswell leaned back a bit, looking you up and down. You had changed since you last left, and it was more than obvious to her why you changed.

"I know that coming here without forewarning isn't pleasant, but I need to talk to you about something," her initial confidence faltered, replaced by a hint of uncertainty. She almost seemed afraid to tell you more, and that made you wary.

In the years of your acquaintance, Laswell had never been the one to show her insecurities, not even to you. "Laswell," you tried to interject, but she interrupted you, and you were beginning to get fed up.

"Call me Kate," and that made you feel some type of way. You hadn't called her by her first name in so long, and it brought back memories that you wanted to leave behind.

You enjoyed her company, you always have, but it's different now. You had cut off contact for a reason, and it seemed that no one would ever respect the boundary you had set. But you pulled yourself together, clenching your right hand into a fist as you let her speak.

Sighing heavily, she looked into your eyes "I know that you're probably going to get angry, but I need you to come back," that was it. Your eyes widened as you scoffed in shock and disbelief.

You could almost started to laugh, that's how hilarious it sounded. "Laswell," you began, dismissing her first name, "you came here just to tell me this? After all these years, you thought I'd return to that hellhole? I thought you knew me better."

Your words dripped with venom, each syllable an assertion of your resolve. "I-" she attempted to speak, only to be silenced by you.

"No, Laswell. I'm speaking now. You came here to bring me back, knowing how much I hate this fucking place. Every single day, I'm left with nightmares, and you walk in here as if you own this place.

I left for a reason. I told you to burn everything down for a reason. Do you know how pathetic it feels to endure each day, knowing it was my fault? Oh, of course you don't know, because all you care about is your profits.

The whole time we were working together, all you cared about was yourself and what you could get out of it." You ranted, almost breathlessly, as you suddenly got up from your seat and walked toward your closet.

Laswell didn't even make a single move in her seat, seemingly ashamed of herself. But you didn't care, you just wanted her gone, and when you finally found the box, you took it and walked towards her.

"Take it, you told me to keep the memories," presenting it to her with a forceful push as the box laid on her lap and you waited impatiently, wanting her to actually open it up and see what you had been carrying with you for years.

Tears welled up and blurred your vision as you blinked them away. Completely frustrated with everything as your hands trembled. "Open it," your voice broke in mid-sentence as you remained standing.

Even Laswell seemed to become emotional as she bit her lip, trying to remain calm. And with shaking hands, she slowly opened the box to look at the contents. You let her look while you averted your eyes and looked at Simon's jacket as you made your way to it.

The conversation was already too much for you, taking the black jacket into your hands as you made your way to your room. You only did this to get some distance from the current situation and for Laswell to take it all in.

The material of Simon's jacket, cradled in your hands, offered a brief respite as you laid it on your bed and looked at it. Memories of the rooftop lingered in the back of your mind. You still had to give it back to him, and you would do so today.

Breathing in and out slowly, you ran a hand over your face in frustration, a headache already making its presence known as you walked back into the living room.

Laswell's eyes scanned the contents of the box, her index finger touching its surface, almost as if to reassure herself, and when she heard your footsteps, her wavering blue eyes met yours upon your return, while you remained standing, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed.

"How did you find me?" You asked quietly, leaning your head against the door frame. You had almost forgotten to ask the most important question, and it bothered you now. Even though you had made sure that no one could find you, Laswell still found her way to you, as if you hadn't moved several times across the country.

Laswell carefully placed the box on the coffee table, the lid resting beside it as the contents were exposed to anyone who wanted to take a look. "Just some research," she said, as if it were the easiest thing she had ever done.

Your nails dug themselves into your arms, probably leaving crescent moon shapes behind as your face grew stern, "Did you tell anyone?"

Your question almost made the woman sitting on your sofa laugh in mockery. She would never do that, and you knew it, but you could never be too careful. "Of course not. I came here on my own," her voice was serious, and she stood up as she approached you.

Your eyes never left her as you watched her hand take a card from her pocket, "Call me if you change your mind or just to discuss what this is about," she said as she took your right hand and placed it in your palm, conveying a silent plea.

With that, she made her way to the door to leave, and before she walked out, she muttered, "I missed you," and with that, she was gone.

You almost wanted to smash your head against the wall in frustration as you looked at the card. It had her name and phone number written on it, having already planned on giving you this as you looked at her handwriting.

It still looked the same, clean and neat as always. You felt the urge to throw it away, but you didn't. You took the card and slapped it unceremoniously on one of the shelves of your bookshelf, causing a few books to fall to the floor with a thud.

"Could this day get any worse?" You wondered in anger as you crouched down to put the books back in their place and heard a knock at your door.

"Come in!" You called, not wanting to walk to the door at all, expecting it to be Laswell, who had probably forgotten something. As you picked up a book, you heard the door open, but no footsteps.

With a furrowed brow, you looked over your shoulder and saw Simon standing next to your sofa. Surprised by his sudden appearance, your gaze dropped to the book in your hands. A blush of embarrassment colored your cheeks as you met his piercing brown eyes.

"You're probably here for your jacket. Sit down if you want, I'll get it once I put the books back on the shelf," you muttered as you picked up the books from the floor, only the sound of the sofa being crushed indicating that Simon had sat down.

It was quiet inside of your apartment, almost being uncomfortable as you had a frustrating conversation with Laswell and Simon coming in wasn't something you had planned at all.

Getting up from your position on the floor, you quickly put the books back on the shelf, wanting to be left alone as soon as possible, and with that, you made your way to your bedroom with slow and steady steps.

It was the first time that Simon saw your apartment, he looked around the place to find you crouched on the floor and when you told him to sit down, he made his way to your sofa and complied.

His eyes wandered around the place and found their place on the box that laid open on the coffee table, he wanted to look away, he didn't want to pry into your private life, but he couldn't.

The box was filled, but there were two things that caught his eye, widening a fraction as he examined the pieces.

On top was a dog tag with your name engraved on it and a picture of you with some other people and a familiar face. You were dressed as people in his profession would be, and Laswell was standing next to you. Her arm was around your shoulders as you leaned against her with a smile on both your and her face.

The more he looked at the dog tag and the picture, the more his eyebrows furrowed as several questions found their way into his mind.

But before he could delve deeper into the box in front of him, your returning footsteps echoed through the room. With that, he rose, putting a respectful distance between himself and the box.

When you came back, you were surprised to find Simon's piercing brown eyes. He's really quiet when it comes to moving around, you thought.

Simon, dressed in his usual black attire. His hood cast a shadow, partially hiding features that held a peculiar allure. The mask that hid his slightly crooked nose and his full lips with the scar etched on the left side of his mouth. His face was still imprinted in your memory from the previous night, and you could not forget it.

Pulling yourself out of your thoughts, you held up his jacket and muttered a "thank you" as he took it in his hands.

Simon nodded in subtle acknowledgement. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, almost examining you, before he left without saying a word. The door closed behind him, leaving a lingering sense of unresolved tension.

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#cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #ghost x y/n #cod x you #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost x you #ghost imagine

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sequinsmile-x · 5 months

Text

The Final Say

Emily wants to put the Christmas tree up in mid-November. Aaron does not.

It's a good thing Emily is an expert at getting her husband to see her point of view.

-x-

Hi friends!

This fic came from a conversation I was having with @cloudlessly-light, who after seeing my Christmas tree in the background of a photo of my cat, told me off for having it up so early haha

Naturally my brain went to 'imagine Aaron and Emily having differing views on when the tree should go up'...and that then turned into a smut fic.

I'm sure I say this every time I write smut, but I truly think this is the filthiest thing I've written so far.

Let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (oral sex, a smidge of dirty talk)

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily loved Christmas.

She always had, ever since she was a kid. It was something that had always been the same wherever she was in the world, a piece of home that followed her and her mother no matter where they lived. She knew it was for show, she’d known that even when she was young. The tree and the decorations weren’t for her, but for the parties her mother would host, for the dignitaries that would always seem to be in their house, but that never diminished her enjoyment of it. The sparkly lights and brightly coloured ornaments never failing to warm her from the inside out.

She’d always hoped that one day she’d decorate a tree with her own family. Pulling the same ornaments and decorations from a box they stored in the attic every year, not new ones in every city, and placing them on a tree they picked out together, not one that seemingly appeared one morning.

She loved Christmas, and that meant she felt the pull to put the decorations up as soon as the days ticked over into mid-November. She wanted to sit on the couch curled up with her children and her husband and look at the tree. She wanted to bathe in the warm light the string lights emitted, a hot chocolate with whiskey in her palms.

She was even more excited this year than usual. It was Issac’s first Christmas, and even though she knew the 3-month-old would have no clue what was going on, she couldn’t wait to include him in all of the traditions they’d come up with since she’d moved in with Aaron and Jack.

The only issue is, that no matter how much she loved Christmas, Aaron did not.

It’s not that he hated it, far from it. As it got closer to the actual date he got involved in the festivities. He’d walk alongside her at the Christmas markets, one hand in hers and the other in Jack’s, letting them drag him from stall to stall. The debate about the Christmas tree would always begin as soon as she started to think about it, making sure she dropped not-so-subtle hints that would make him raise an eyebrow at her.

It was during their first Christmas together, their relationship only a few months old at the time, when she realised she could use his inability to say no to her when she was naked for her own gain. She’d seduced him easily by walking into his bedroom with nothing more than his favourite lingerie on, and once he’d fucked her into the mattress he’d agreed to her putting the tree up whenever she wanted to.

It had become a tradition in itself. A game between the two of them that would always end with her winning, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t have some fun along the way. In fact, she’d just laid the evidence of last year's fun down for his afternoon nap in the nursery.

Issac was asleep, Jack was at a friend's for a sleepover, and she had Aaron all to herself.

She finds him in their bedroom, focused on putting away laundry, and she wraps her arms around him from behind. She kisses his shoulder through his shirt, and he stops what he’s doing to place his hands over hers on his stomach.

“Did he go down okay?”

She hums and nods, “He’s fast asleep,” she says, kissing his shoulder again before she encourages him to turn to face her, her hands on his hips, “Which means we have some time to ourselves,” she says, looking up at him through her lashes.

“Oh really?” He asks, his hands skating over her waist before they land on her lower back, “What were you thinking?”

She pretends to think about it, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, “We could…put up the tree?”

He groans, shaking his head at her as if he hadn’t known this was coming, “Em, it’s too early.”

She pulls him towards the loveseat they keep in the corner of their bedroom and she pushes him down onto it before she sits on top of him, placing her knees on either side of his hips. She pouts as she settles into his lap, purposely making a point of grinding against him as she does. She bites her lip when she feels his hands tighten on her hips almost involuntarily.

“But it’s Christmas,” she complains as she frowns at him.

“It’s mid-November,” he quips, raising his eyebrow at her. He knew how this would end, that he’d end up giving in like he did every year, but it didn’t mean he was going to give in easily. Especially when it usually ended well for him.

“The boys will be excited,” she says, cupping the back of his neck, making him shiver as she runs her fingers across his skin, “They love Christmas.”

“Jack is 8, he knows when Christmas actually is, and Issac is 12 weeks old, he isn’t even aware it’s Christmas. Or that he has feet.” He replies, watching as she attempts to suppress a smile, “The only things he’s aware of are your breasts and when it’s the most inconvenient time to wake up from his nap.”

She leans in to stamp her kiss against his, smirking when he chases her as she pulls back. She cups the back of his head. “Well,” she says, kissing him again, “Then we’d better hurry up and make sure we don’t give him a chance to interrupt us.”

Aaron groans when she rolls her hips against his again, and he grasps her waist, his thumbs pressing into the bottom of her ribcage.

“We’re not putting the tree up,” he says, the challenge weak even to his ears, and she leans in, her lips against his ear as she responds.

“We’ll see about that.”

She kisses him fiercely, her tongue sweeping through his mouth as she tightens her hold on his head, her nails scratching at his scalp. He groans and his hands slip to her hips, holding them tightly as he pulls her closer. He pushes his hips up into hers and she whimpers at the feeling of him half hard under her. She only pulls away when she needs to, sucking in a breath before she sinks her teeth into his lower lip, tugging at it before she lets it go.

“Let me convince you,” she says, kissing him quickly before she shifts back in his lap, her fingers reaching for his shirt. She unbuttons his shirt, kissing and nipping at his skin as she reveals it, paying close attention to his scars like she always did. It was something they’d done for each other since the beginning, lips and fingers delicately pressed against the raised skin. Neither of them ever forgetting to worship the other where they’d been stitched back together, proof of what they’d survived to make it to each other.

She gets out of his lap and kneels in front of the loveseat, her hands reaching for his belt buckle and she looks up at him as she undoes it and his pants. He lifts his hips just long enough for her to pull his pants and boxers. She kneels in between his legs and takes his cock in her hand and clenches her thighs together, desperate for some friction, at the punched out groan that escapes him the moment she touches his heated skin.

“Fuck, Em,” he grunts, his eyes fixed on her as she leans forward, maintaining eye contact with him as she licks the tip of him, a smile flashing across her face as his hips twitch towards her face.

“Impatient,” she teases, slowly pumping him up and down, her breath skipping over him, her smile turning into a smirk as he all but growls at her.

“Sweetheart-”

He’s cut off as she takes him in her mouth, his words lost to a moan as he feels himself hit the back of her throat, the sound of her gagging sparking a fire in his gut. He pushes his fingers through her hair, tightening them in the strands as she bobs up and down, using her mouth and hands in tandem.

“Fuck, baby,” he says, “You’re so fucking good at that.” He says, and the praise makes her stomach flip, forcing her to once again press her thighs together. She takes him as far down her throat as she can, only spurred on as she chokes around him and he thrusts up into her mouth. He feels a familiar tug in his gut, and he stops her, gently tugging at her hair, smiling as she lifts her head and looks at him with a dazed look in her eyes, a line of spit trailing from her lower lip to his tip.

He cups her chin and encourages her upwards, steadying her on her feet as he pulls her in to kiss him, groaning as he tastes himself on her lips. When he breaks the kiss he smiles at her.

“Take your clothes off and get on the bed,” he says, his voice low and raspy. She follows his instructions without really thinking about it, shedding her clothes with little fanfare as she watches him finish the job she’d started by taking off his clothes.

He’s on her the second she’s on the bed, pressing her into the mattress by laying on top of her, finding his place in the cradle of her hips. She groans as he kisses down her chest, his touch turning gentle as he skates over her breasts, well aware that was his youngest son’s domain for now. He licks along the length of the scar beneath her ribcage, mapping out each line of it from where he’d memorised it long ago. The topography of her body his favourite thing, each hill and valley of her skin somewhere he could happily get lost in. Since she’d had Issac he’d taken the opportunity to learn the ways her body had changed, every part of her infinitely more beautiful to him now she’d carried their son and kept him safe.

She’s squirming beneath him by the time he reaches her thighs, his hands surprisingly gentle as he pushes them apart. He feels pride swell in his chest at how wet she is already, how she glistens in the light of their bedroom, and he breathes her in.

“So wet for me already, sweetheart,” he says, nipping the top of her thigh with his teeth before soothing it with a kiss, smiling when she bucks her hips, “I’ve barely touched you,” he says, turning his head to her other thigh and giving it the same treatment, “You like being on your knees for me, don’t you?”

She whimpers at his words, her heels finding their place on his shoulders, digging in as a silent form of warning, “Please.”

As much as he enjoyed teasing her, he knew their time was limited. The baby would be up soon and he didn’t want this to finish before it had really got started.

Aaron leans in and licks through her, his groan at the taste of her matching the one that escapes her at the pleasure that rushes through her. He pushes two thick fingers inside of her, curling them upwards as he does so, smirking against her skin when she rolls her hips just as he hits the right spot.

“Oh god yes,” she says, trying to keep quiet, “Please don’t stop.”

She pushes herself up onto her elbows to look down, to see his face buried in her, the tension in his arm as he moves his fingers in and out of her. The burning in her belly starts to build, crackling through her nerves as it’s ready to ignite. He looks up at her, and as their eyes meet she falls over the edge, the intimacy of it giving her the final shove she needs.

He’s on her in a second, his lips against hers as he captures the moan that escapes her, pushing his tongue into her mouth, sharing the taste of herself with her. It’s only when she comes down from her high that she realises her legs are still over his shoulder. He’s bent in her half, something that a few short months ago she would have thought was a move that was now beyond her, and his cock notches over her sensitive and swollen clit.

“I didn’t know I could still bend that far,” she says breathlessly, smiling when he grins at her, his eyes blown black with desire, “Thought I’d lost that ability around the time my hips got wider.”

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he grunts, pushing forward so he enters her, both of them groaning at the familiar stretch, “You’re fucking perfect.”

She clenches around him, the angle, the fact she’d barely come down from her last orgasm, making everything seem more sensitive, closer than it usually did. He stills his hips, clearly trying to give her a moment, but she doesn’t need or want it.

All she needs is him.

“Move,” she insists, purposely clenching around him, the breath knocked out of her as he does so involuntarily, “Please move.”

He never could say no to her, not really, so he does as he’s asked, his rhythm unforgiving as he thrusts in and out of her. She grasps his back, her hips matching the rhythm he has set, one she was as familiar with as she was with every inch of his body. Even back when they did this for the first time there had been a sense of familiarity about it, something that felt like coming home.

She eventually feels the spark in her belly again, and she can tell he’s close too, his hips slowly becoming more sporadic.

“I’m going to come,” she says, clenching around him again, “I’m so fucking close.”

“Me too, baby,” he replies, burying his face in her shoulder, his hand drifting down to her clit to draw soft but concise circles over her, “Let me feel it.”

She comes, her teeth sinking into his neck to stop herself from screaming, and it triggers his orgasm, the feel of him coming deep inside of her making her sigh. They lay there for a moment before he pushes himself up on his hands, his palms on either side of her head before he leans down to kiss her. He sits up just enough that her legs slip off his shoulders, slumping against the bed in a way that made her feel as light as a feather and as if she was made of lead at the same time. She pats his chest as he lays back down next to her, still desperately trying to suck air back into her lungs. He kisses her cheek and then turns her head just enough to kiss him. She smiles as she pulls back, her hand on his cheek.

“Okay,” he says one of his hands trailing down her side, smiling as she shivers, “We can put the tree up.”

She chuckles as she kisses him softly, a gentle press of her lips against his, “I always win, why do you even fight it?”

He shrugs, “Why would I when we have so much fun along the way?” He says, and she shakes her head at him as he waggles his eyebrows at her, and she presses her thumb into his lower lip, feeling the familiar plushness.

“You better not have gotten me pregnant this year,” she jokes, well aware it wasn’t a possibility, that she was on her birth control and they weren’t actively trying like they had been last year, “We barely sleep as it is.”

Aaron laughs and shakes his head at her, “No one can ever know Issac is the product of last year's Christmas tree debate.”

She smiles as he kisses her thumb, but her response is cut off by a cry from down the hall, “Speaking of Santa’s little helper,” she quips, “He’s done with his nap.”

“I’ll get him,” Aaron says, stamping one last kiss to her lips before he stands up and walks over to his dresser to get a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“Good,” she replies, resting on her elbows to look at him, throwing him a wink from where she was still lying on the bed, “Because my legs still aren’t working.”

___

They have the team over for Thanksgiving.

Everyone took turns hosting, even though Dave did most of the cooking every year, and this time it was decided it made the most sense for everyone to come to their house since they had the youngest kid.

Emily smiles as she glances over at Aaron, Issac in his arms and Jack excitedly talking to his father and Dave, before she walks over to join JJ, Derek and Spencer who are all standing around the tree. Derek smiles curiously at her as she stands next to him.

“How did you convince Hotch to put up the tree, Princess?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he looks back at it, “I thought he used to have a strict ‘not before December’ rule when it came to decorations.”

JJ chuckles, cutting Emily off before she can reply, “You don’t want to know, Derek,” she says, taking a sip of her wine, “Penelope made the mistake of asking last year and she still hasn’t recovered,” she leans in closer as if they are conspiring, “Plus, Hotch has a hell of a hickey on his neck. Do the math yourself.”

Emily feels her cheeks go red as everyone looks over at her husband, the bruise on his throat not quite covered by his shirt collar.

“Oh, gross,” Derek says, and Emily rolls her eyes.

“Oh come on, Aaron and I are married. We have a baby, it can’t be a surprise we have sex,” she shrugs, looking back over at her husband, smiling as he continues to talk to Dave whilst he bounces Issac in his arms, trying to soothe the slightly cranky baby, “Besides, I know how to get what I want. And what I want is the Christmas tree being put up on November 15th.”

“So this happens…every year?” Spencer asks, the question escaping him before he really thinks it through, and she looks over at him, her eyebrow raised.

“I’m sure I’ll regret asking this question,” she says, “But why do you want to know that?”

“If you always put the tree up on November 15th that means you put it up 53 weeks ago,” Spencer says, and Emily’s eyes go wide as she realises what he’s figuring out, the maths pulling together in his head before she can stop him, “And you were pregnant for 39 weeks and 3 days, and Issac is about to turn 14 weeks old-”

“Okay,” she says, cutting him off with a glare and a raised hand, “That’s enough.”

It’s too late, and she hears JJ laugh and Derek groan in disgust, “Oh God,” he says, scrunching his face up, “You’re telling me that Issac exists because you wanted the Christmas tree to go up in Nov-”

“Please don’t say anything to Aaron,” she says, almost begging. She knows JJ would never say anything, and that Spencer would be too afraid too, but Derek lived to wind her up, solidifying his place as the brother she never had or asked for, “He’ll never have sex with me again if he finds out you know.”

Derek raises an eyebrow at her, “Is that meant to deter me? If you never have sex again I never have to hear about it again.”

“How about if you tell him I’ll kill you and no one will ever know it was me,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him, “We all know I’d get away with it.”

Derek swallows thickly, clearly taking her seriously, and he nods, his silent agreement coming just in time as Aaron walks over and hands Issac to her.

“Someone wants Mommy,” he says, looking back and forth between his wife and their friends as they all go deathly silent as he arrives.

“Hi sweet boy,” Emily says, securing Issac to her chest and turning so he can see the tree, his face lighting up with a smile as he sees the lights. Aaron kisses her forehead and walks away as Dave calls for him, “You like the tree, huh?” She says to Issac, kissing the side of his head.

“Just like his Mom,” Derek adds, hiding his smirk behind his glass as he takes a sip. She looks up at him, her glare firmly back in place.

“Derek I swear to God.”

-x-

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ariesmusingz · 2 months

Text

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ╱ real talk sentence starters pt 1 ( created using lyrics from man overboard's real talk album. feel free to adjust to fit your muse. )

you could say one of two things

call me sometime or let's hang out

maybe i could help you out

stop acting like you'll ever see me again and like i don't have you figured out

i understand how it works

on paper, we're similar people

we're different people

you're tearing down the walls i built

tell your wrecking crew i welcome you

when the days slow down this summer don't forget

i did two years in your silhouette

your jaws of steel never forgave

it's haunting the way silence sounded

if i fucked up long ago, i'm sorry

i didn't realise it counted

it just wouldn't work out

that's what i'm telling myself

we're just two different people

it's eleven thirty at night

you're in your bed nice and tight

maybe you're dreaming of me

i am calling you

i am wishing you were here

i hope i didn't annoy you today

you answered anyway

i am hearing you

wishing i could feel you too

i miss her

i wanted to tell her

i spoke to myself in the mirror for a while tonight

i made a promise that i would never fuck up having you in my life

i think you're my favourite girl i've ever met

i bought a new notebook for the road

covered it with your area code

it's tattooed by the pen and i wish it was my home

i kinda hate everyone i know

lately i've been feeling so low

come get inside my bed

you make me feel dead by being out there in the unknown

just like a dream

she called me kinda late last night

said she knew everything

all those pretty little words came out

just like i planned she fell into my arms again

i could pretend that i would lie right here forever and wait for the end

you're right we should be together

tonight i could make it better if i just gave up on my stupid little fantasy world

you're right, that was a fake smile

you're right i am in denial

i should just go home to my perfect little fantasy girl

you're my fantasy girl

she crept back up inside my bed

said that she missed everything

all those words that made me fall came out

just like a trap, everything just fell right back

we were on tracck

i could lie with her all night now and wait to react

always turning out for the worst

you were always my most consistent curse

i hope this gets you kind of heated or stings a little if you even read it

bringing everyone down

you left this house feeling empty

it's better than feeling like it's burning to the ground

i can't live with you around anymore

you're blocking out the sound outside my door

i found more

i can't remember all the times that i almost had bruises for being on your side

now i hope that someone gets to you

see you around

you were alright back when we were young

you don't compare to anything that i've found

i wrote you down a letter before i went to sleep

it had all the secrets i could no longer keep

i held them in for so long i was going to break

maybe now i can rest and you will lay awake

i've been trying to escape but something keeps calling me

a feeling i can't shake

the darkness has swallowed me

i can't move fast enough to ditch what has followed me

lighting strikes everything that i touch

this is how it feels for me to be on my own

the sadness has cut me down to the bone

it's so bad

i don't think i'll make it home tonight

there's not enough light in your house that you could leave on for me tonight

there's not enough fights i could lose to justify how i feel tonight

if this would come true, i wonder what's really real tonight

if this makes any sense at all then push my back up against the wall

try calling your friends and asking what they have heard

you're looking for the gossip and hanging on every word

i'm not made

it's cute, it's actually absurd

i can't believe someone loves me so much

i've been failing every test and late for the makeup

left alone at your request as you do your make up

i know that i won't make this alright before it's over now tonight

i know that this won't be the last time i walk these streets

i hang my head

i wish i was dead

at my best, i'd suggest i've been weird since she left

it's normal autumn stuff

i guess i never thought enough

look at me

almost free from my crippling disease

shoot bullets through my foot

i think that'd work out real good

call me out

she's calling me out

i guess she didn't know better

she called me out

i guess that's why she's got her own man now

she's doing fine

she's got her own man now

what's she talking about>

at my best, put to test i'd score average or less

i can't apply myself

if i could just untie myself

she wants the yes's

gets the no's

before long there she goes

i guess she dug too deep

now she's just too bugged to sleep

you made yourself the guest of honor

the party got stopped and everybody just went home

#rp memes #rph #content: mine #rpt #rp sentence meme #memes: mine #roleplay memes #rp sentence prompts #rp promts #rp help #rpc

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lansplaining · 4 months

Note

Protagonist-centric readers will do anything but admit that their MCs did lie and impact other characters' decisions. It's not the side-characters fault that they did not know the whole truth because *drum roll* they weren't told anything and/or was deliberately lied to.

LQQ being hated bc he impaled XL in a coffin for a long time but like... XL admitted to killing the King of Yong'an and committing the bloody massacre so what was LQQ supposed to do? Sit down and ask his Guoshi for the truth when we know damn well XL will just continue to admit to it? XL didn't want to tell LQQ the truth to protect LQQ and the two groups of people, and that's completely admirable, but what LQQ saw was his Guoshi stabbing a sword through his father's chest and admitting to everything so him reacting the way he did was completely valid. The single act of killing the king was treason 100x already, and as the son of the king, LQQ's reaction was not out of the ordinary. we don't want XL to suffer and be even more traumatized, but XL already knew that the consequences wouldn't be pretty and lied anyway. idk why fans can't grasp that.

Or for JC's case, HE IS LITERALLY THE ONE PERSON ALIVE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD WHO ACTUALLY DESERVES SOME KIND OF EXPLANATION FROM WWX HIMSELF, THE MAN WHO ACCIDENTALLY CAUSED WN TO KILL JXZ AND INDIRECTLY KILLED JYL DESPITE CLAIMING THAT HE HAD EVERYTHING UNDER CONTROL. These two aren't strangers to JC at all; they're his sister and his brother-in-law, or more importantly, his sister's beloved husband and father of his nephew. He deserves to be angry and bitter at the one person who did all that, and there is no time limit for how long he should remain bitter and angry about it. The GCT was a whole mess and they both made HUGE sacrifices out of love but the only one whose sacrifice is made invalid is JC because one, it was short-lived and two, they already didn't like JC so no matter what he does for WWX, it will be seen as something negative.

I don't even want to get into the hell-hole regarding LXC but... damn...

the revelations after a character found out the truth should be "oh man, so that's what really happened" not "this character was a dick because they didn't know about the major sacrifice the MC made for them that would only be revealed many years later, and it's not even voluntary because someone else told the truth, not the MC themself"

I'm not the first nor am I the last person to say this but a protagonist is just a character we see, mainly, from their POV or the character that we follow the story through. That's all there is to it. I feel like a lot of danmei readers have yet to read a variety of stories about an MC that's completely shit but serves to tell a story just as important and interesting.

okay, first of all-- people hate LQQ?? The sweetest, most violent himbo of all????????????? even Xie Lian doesn't hate him for what he did??????

i have nothing to say to such people

i'll be honest, it is really only relatively recently that i've fully come to realise how completely Jiang Cheng deserves an explanation or even just acknowledgement of any kind from Wei Wuxian, and how cowardly and selfish it is that Wei Wuxian refuses to give it. and I say this with a heart full of love for WWX-- he is dealing with Some Trauma (tm) but that doesn't mean his refusal to even speak to JC isn't hurtful and unfair, even if it's what he needs... but man everyone in fandom and fanworks is focused on WWX taking what he needs in this situation and not even remotely considering that just maybe he also justifiably owes something to someone he harmed and who he supposedly (formerly?) cared about (i think he still cares)

the lan xichen thing is literally inexplicable to me and i will never understand it

#ask answered

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thenanamisimp · 4 months

Text

Danmei and MXTX novels

Would you look at that, another post that's not about anime? WILD. It is about MXTX novels though so the hyperfixations continue. I'm actually in the process of planning a very lengthy analysis of all three of her series but this is a warning, don't expect too much. I was never good at those in school plus it's been almost 7 years since I've last written something like that but I feel so passionate about her works that I really wanna try to share what I thought about the novels. Nevertheless, this isn't actually those analysis posts since those are gonna be separate and will probably be written after I re-read each series. However, since I'm actually finally fully done reading all her series - including the extra side chapters - I wanted to quickly share some of my opinions and how I feel after finishing all 18 of the books.

This goes without saying but just in case - SPOILER WARNING for Heaven Official's Blessing, The grandmaster of demonic cultivation and The scum villain's self saving system novels.

First off, if you haven't read any of MXTX's work before, prepare for trauma and tragedy. Most of her characters are either deeply traumatised already or in the process of. I will always encourage people to read content warnings before reading her books.

Starting off with my favourite - TGCF or Tian Guan Ci Fu (aka Heaven Official's Blessing). This story means a lot to me. I got introduced to TGCF through the donghua before I even knew it was queer fiction and even with censorship, the closet is made of fucking GLASS so I had to look for the source material. Honestly it took me a while to commit to reading the whole series as I've been struggling to pick up books for years now but TGCF actually got me back into reading (I think in total it took me about 8 days to read all 8 volumes). More than just the story telling being good, I got so incredibly attached to every single character (except Jun Wu, he can eat shit - tho the fact I'm even saying this speaks volumes about how well MXTX can write characters. It takes a lot for me to hate a character this much).

Taking place in a beautiful fantasy world, we follow Xie Lian and Hua Cheng through tragic traumatic past and present and we learn of the horrible truths about the lives of immortal beings. We also see two idiots in love take their sweet ass time to confess. I love me a good slow burn full of longing and pining. I eat that shit UP every time and MXTX gave it to me with every single one of her series.

TGCF for me was a journey full of kicking my feet at fluff, second hand embarrassment (because xl I stg, what do you MEAN you were taught how to resist the advances of women but not how to resist hot men you gay lil shit the closet is made of glass) and honestly, lots of crying. The hundred stabs incident, ruoye's creation and hcg's last death made me sob and scream (no exaggeration, I was stomping around my room, crying and yelling GIVE HIM BACK RIGHT NOW).

Also, in a not so unpopular opinion (I think?), Pei Ming is my fave because 1) he's the no.1 Hualian shipper - check the whole Mt Tunglu adventure for proof and also 2) he's just a lil slut with a big heart. I could seriously talk about him forever because I went from hating him after he tried to throw the blame for the Banyue Pass incident on Xie Lian, to loving him after I realised that everything he does, he does because he is truly just a kind man who loves a good fight. He's so silly! Just a lil guy! Go Pei Ming go!

Fuck you Jun Wu. Again. (I hate him just as much as I hate Mahito. Maybe a little less. I really hate Mahito).

Moving on to my second favourite (but honestly it's such a close one), MDZS or Mo Dao Zu Shi (The grandmaster of demonic cultivation). Take a wild guess about how I got introduced to it... Fandom of course, because very few people talk about TGCF online without mentioning MDZS so I just had to give it a chance.

The great grandmaster of demonic cultivation has been dead for a while but when he gets gifted a new body through a not so well known demonic ritual, he runs into an old acquaintance. We learn about Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji's past and current world of cultivation and hear stories about messy betrayals and conspiracies. Aaaand we find out about some more trauma and tragedy because is it really an MXTX novel without it?

And talk about a rollercoaster because (and please don't hate me for this) I found Wei Wuxian annoying initially.... But it's okay now because I kin him so go figure. Tho I actually kin only his adult self, I was a very introverted and rule abiding teenager, a lil more like Lan Wangji. In any case, wwx is the same stupid chaotic bisexual that I am and he is babygurl. Yeah and what if he murdered 3000 people? It was self defense. THEY ATTACKED FIRST. Your honour, he did nothing wrong and he does not deserve to be punished!

On a serious note, MDZS explores so many themes that are personally important to me, my favourite being the power dynamics of the world. It’s truly moving that even with all the pain Wei Wuxian went through, how far in his cultivation and how powerful he got, he still couldn't protect those he loved (until Lan Wangji of course because Wangxian is perfect together and they always protect and defend each other. Wangxian my beloved). While it might be a stretch for some, it really reminded me of how powerless we are in the world. People aim to educate themselves and go on to do whatever they can to better the world in their own way and yet, it really feels like nothing’s improving sometimes. I could talk about this for hours but maybe I’ll leave that for another time and another analysis post since this is supposed to be a shorter one (lmao)

Last but not least, RZFZX or Ren Zha Fanpai Zijiu Xitong (honestly this one I use the english name for because I can’t pronounce the chinese as much as I try - The scum villain's self saving system or Svsss). This one I actually kinda struggled with - first of all because WHY BUGS MXTX. Not much bothers me in fiction but BUGS? Too far. Heads with spider legs? Raw flesh with maggots? Blood mites? I was out (for about half an hour and then I kept reading). Please note that it's not the raw flesh that bothered me, it was the fucking maggots. I can read about graphic murder, creepy hauntings, torture and many more but as soon as there are bugs? Nope! I’m done. People have phobias and that’s mine I guess. Enough ranting about bugs!

The story follows Shen Qingqiu, the scum villain of the hit web novel Proud Immortal Demon's Way (or PIDW for short, as it's referred to in Svsss) who is actually one of the original readers - and haters - of PIDW, who transmigrates into the book in order to fix the plot holes left by the original author. With his guide “the system” he does his best to lead the male lead of PIDW, Luo Binghe, down a better path than in the original story.

Svsss employs a comedic way of storytelling, with our protagonist being omniscient, it allows for the narration to be sarcastic and poke fun at a lot of moments that are cliche or badly written, as interpreted by sqq. Honestly, this is just a personal preference but I favour the more serious storytelling way of MDZS and TGCF (give me hurt until the very end when the main characters get together and then give me comfort).

To me, Svsss is a lot harder to analyse as a lot of its themes are unfamiliar to me, especially considering I’m the furthest from having any sort of humanitarian education (I have 2 engineering degrees). Using a story within a story, MXTX is able to deliver two main overarching themes; one about abuse and its results through Luo Binghe as well as one about the relationship of author and their readers, the feeling of being trapped by the readers' opinions and wanting your story to be liked through Shang Qinghua (to be honest, I hadn’t really picked up on this one until I saw discussion about this in the fandom).

If I'm being completely honest, I don't think I grasped this series as well as the other ones and I'm finding it hard to digest lbg and sqq's relationship. I'm unsure as to what it is that's holding me back from loving them as much as Hualian and Wangxian. I do tend to prefer tropes like theirs more than the whole "had to convince him to date me" thing which is what Bingqiu's relationship seemed like to me up until the end of volume 3. It’s also why I'm glad I actually followed through and finished the extras in volume 4 (I was really tempted to stop reading once I finished volume 3 not gonna lie). I believe those to be integral to understanding sqq's feelings towards lbh and while I understand that sqq did actually love lbh from the beginning (denial is a river in egypt and the gloset is made of glass - what the fuck is with MXTX's bottoms and the damn glass closet), I struggled to see the tipping point of where he actually understood his own feelings and what was going on in his head and that he was actually in love with lbh. Which is why I think to really understand Svsss, I would seriously need to reread it.

I also would love to eventually talk about queerness in MXTX's work because in each book, sexuality and queerness is explored and examined in so many different ways. As a queer person myself, it fascinates me as I can relate to so much of it. To be honest, I think I could write a short thesis on just this.

Honestly, while I'm very passionate about my favourite pieces of media (if you've heard me talk about any of my top 5 anime you'll understand what I mean), there hasn't been a lot of things outside JJK and MXTX's novels that have made me wanna dive deep into analysing every single detail. It genuinely makes me feel like I'm gonna implode sometimes. These 3 series have seriously reignited my love for reading. I was shown that a good book - in my opinion of course - doesn't need to avoid difficult topics. It simply needs to use them well as a means of delivering a message and a story, rather than them being included just to be included. They also reminded me that I love queer fiction and I need to read more.

I actually would really like to read Erha (or 2ha or The husky and his white cat shizun) but I've read the content warnings and I'm ~~apprehensive~~. While not a lot of things bother me, I'm not sure I want to read about that stuff (please look at the content warnings of this book, or any piece of media in that matter, especially if you have topics that easily bother or trigger you). Remember, it's our responsibility as readers/consumers to look out for ourselves first!

Please recommend any good danmei (other than MXTX) and possibly include links where they can be read! I would also highly appreciate recommendations for some good wlw fantasy fiction as I really would love to read some wlw novels - or even anime/movies/webtoons/manga. Just in desperate need of quality wlw content.

Also while I said I'd keep it short, it seems I ended up writing over 2000 words…

PS. I proofread this about 5 times and during one of them my file crashed, so if there's any mistakes or if I’m not making sense somewhere, blame my deep-fried brain, thanks

Thanks for reading my novel ramble! Enjoy reading :)

theNanamiSimp

#i'm adding a lot of tags because i put a lot of effort into this post actually and i want people to see it #danmei #mo dao zu shi #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain #mxtx #mo xiang tong xiu #hualian #hua cheng #xie lian #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #bingqiu #luo binghe #shen qingqiu

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