#are you fucking w me. you know what this (white. might i add) person's talking abt. don't you.

[datastate]

please think before promoting a post that - while having an understandable critique of people who remove themselves (through headcanons) from a media to a degree that they may as well make ocs - includes “race headcanons” in this criticism.

#are you fucking w me. you know what this (white. might i add) person's talking abt. don't you. #jestersvaguely #like obviously i have my own criticisms when it comes to m/m pairings especially where i feel like people would be better off just watching #like. romance anime because at this point they've just flattened the characters and completely removed the original world #but in my experience. usually race headcanons include expanding upon what's already established in-canon lol. like esp if it's someone /of/ #that race there is usually so much more thought put into it and how it'll tie and bring out emphasis in other scenes #and i know - for myself. as someone who enjoys character studies. i like applying this to how it affects themselves/family/life #as well as their personal perceptions/importance of it. there is just... it opens up a lot of opportunities #yes. there is a point where projection does soften up or destroy the original character. but this isn't where it typically happens #rubs my face. i'm not articulate right now but this is not where critique should be directed #if it's thoughtlessly making characters poc and playing into racist biases then that's relevant but otherwise... what's the pointtt #it's not ridding the character of anything.

[bbykento]

I’ll make it up to you - gojo x gn! reader

wc. 1.1k | NOT proofread

contents! angst to fluff, comfort, gojo calls you clingy, neglect, cute nicknames, he does everything to make your anger gone, crying, overthinking, negative thoughts, praise.

you missed gojo so bad.

right now, you were just watching a movie or whatever you could do to occupy yourself. while gojo is out there hanging out with his friends, it’s been awhile since they’ve seen each other. you thought this wouldn’t change anything in your daily life.

but after a few weeks, it’s all he’s been doing. he’s always outside with his friends, barely acknowledging your presence. you get that it’s been quite awhile, but you’ve been feeling neglected.

You weren’t clingy whatsoever (maybe you were) but you missed him so bad. every damn time he came home he’d either be too tired and sleep right away or he’d play video games… with his friends again.

it was the same process all over again. you were getting tired, you were already having a rough week. you needed your boyfriend…

at the moment, it was currently 12:59 am. Where the fuck was your boyfriend?? you decided to text him, worried about his being.

You

baby, where are you? it’s 1 am already, you okay?

baby?

baby?

can you come home already? its kinda late

baby answer me

you were worried, he usually came home from their hangout by 7 pm or even earlier. though why was he taking longer? yes he’s the strongest he can take care of himself yeah yeah but it was your boyfriend. finally after a few minutes (it took 30 minutes) before he responded.

Gojo

js out w my bros dw

wow. he finally responded, in like one of the worst ways ever. he would usually reassure you sweetly that he’s okay and he’d be back quickly in 50+ messages, whenever he’d went out longer than usual. but this? its not him. it was a dry response, maybe someone took his phone?

You

when r u coming home?

baby?

Gojo

can you like stop?

stop being so clingy it’s annoying

im just hanging out w my bros

and im not gonna come home till for a little while

the reason why i hung out with them was to escape your clingy ass

so stfu for a moment

.

.

.

… what the fuck? im clingy? when im just worrying about your wellbeing?? you already had a bad day and just wanna cuddle with your boyfriend but he adds to the stress.

like the petty person you are, you take your things and leave his apartment with teary eyes. if he calls you clingy, might as well distance yourself from him. nobody to wake him up, take care of his drunken state, cook him breakfast, and all that.

….

a week passes by and not a single sign from him. he didn’t bother to text you, call you, go to your apartment, whatsoever. you guys don’t usually fight, and when you do it doesn’t last this long. he would always be to go to you first and apologize.

you were overthinking, maybe you were a burden to him? was he cheating on you? will he break up with you? negative thoughts clouded your mind as you cry your heart out and cuddle your pillow.

before suddenly, a ding comes from your door. was that finally gojo? was he here to apologize and comfort me? you fixed yourself before opening the door, the moment you opened the door it all answered your questions.

Oh. it was just a delivery man…..with a bouquet but instead it was filled with money shaped into flowers, a cute basket filled to the brim with your favorite snacks and food. Till you realize the “delivery man” had snow-white hair..

“gojo..?”

“baby..I’m sorry please? I know it’s not enough but fuck.. im sorry, im sorry…can we talk?” he looks up, finally letting you see his eyes. he looked, tired. and so did you.

“okay…” you say. you were glad he was back, you missed his touch, his face, his everything.

he gets inside and you close the door behind him. when he lands the items on a table, he suddenly hugs you.

“Baby i’m sorry I don’t know what i fucking said I didn’t mean any of that you know that right? please im sorry ill make it up to you… I just- I just..”

“Baby calm down, we’ll talk about it after you collect all your thoughts.”

he nods in agreement, before he nuzzles his head deeper into your neck taking in your scent. oh how he missed you, how bad he fucked up to the. point you guys haven’t interacted each other for a week.

“I’m sorry… I was just in a bad mood after my friends made a joke about hitting on you… I poured my anger on you, nothing was your fault. It’s all mine.. please forgive me baby I’ll do anything to make up to you..” he started to kiss your neck.

God did you want to cry again.

“don’t you know how much that hurt me?” tears started to roll down your cheeks.

“I know baby.. it’s all my fault blame it on me. I’ve been neglecting my cute and beautiful baby.. you don’t deserve it please don’t cry..” he wipes your tears and cups your face before kissing you all over your face

“Please just don’t do that ever again..” you hug him tightly. you were so happy and sad at the same time. after all those overthinking… his reassurance was what you needed the most.

“Of course, my love. please remember I don’t find you clingy or annoying, even if you were clingy I love every second of it. I love every bit of you. please don’t stop loving me like that, im an asshole fuck me. im sorry you had to deal with this asshole but this asshole loves you very much.” with every sentence, he gave a kiss on your face.

“I love how you make me breakfast everyday, the way you wake me up so sweetly, the way you text me to see how I’m doing, how you clean my clothes for me when I’m too tired, draw doodles on my chest with your fingers when im asleep, kiss me and put a blanket over me when you see me shiver, I love all of you and the things you do.” he continued.

He kisses you long and deep. you couldn’t stop the ecstatic feeling in you when he said all of those words. oh did you love him so much, and so did he.

Safe to say, you guys spent the night in each other’s arms. he spoiled you a lot the very next day, or rather for the past few weeks.

note: this would’ve been better if I havent fucking accidentally exited the draft without saving the work in progress 🫠 AAAAA

#x reader #reader insert #gn reader #gender neutral #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #angst #fluff #comfort

[morningberriesao3]

MWMD - Wake Me Up

Steve Harrington X Virgin!Eddie Munson

Summary: Eddie's too sore to bathe himself. Good thing Steve has decided to be his caregiver.

Word Count: 2.8K

Chapter: 1 of 6 CHAPTER LIST

Content Warnings: Explicit m/m sexual content including… Virgin Eddie Munson, Dry Humping, Coming Untouched, Coming in Pants, Minor Crossdressing (ahem, EDDIE WEARS A G-STRING), Oh no they’re both tops?! what will they do!!?!, Top Steve Harrington, Power Bottom Eddie Munson, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Nipple Clamps, Under-Negotiated Kink, Unsafe Sex, Creampie. Underage Drinking and Recreational Drug Use.

Tags: Eddie Munson lives, 5 + 1 Things, slow burn, POV Eddie Munson, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Slow Burn, Sexual Tension, Caretaking, Massages, Sharing a Bed, House Party, Play Flighting, Bros Being Bros (JK it’s very homoerotic), Halloween, Boys in Makeup, Independence Day, New Years Eve, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending

Many Ways, Many Days, to Say ‘I Love You’

March 31st, 1986

Eddie wakes up in the hospital. He hurts everywhere. His legs, his abdomen, his neck, his lungs. An ache so deep that when he first regains consciousness his first instinct is to moan in pain. Let a tear escape his eye, and another one, and another one.

His second instinct is to run.

Eddie’s eyes fly open and his pained moans turn into gasps of fear.

What happened to me?

Where am I?

Am I still there – in Hell?

But as his frantic eyes whip around the room – the white, clean room – he realizes that he’s not in that rancid place anymore. He’s no longer in the place that tried to kill him.

At least, not the one filled with real-life monsters.

This one is filled with people like Jason Carver and his cronies – ones wielded with metaphorical pitchforks and torches – ready to set his home ablaze and send Eddie to the other Hell – permanently.

Jokes on them because Eddie isn’t a satanist. He isn’t an anything. When he dies, it’s the cold, hard ground waiting for him. And that thought is almost as terrifying as eternal fire.

He’s not safe anywhere. And that makes him cry out once more.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, man. Hey – calm down.”

The voice comes from beside him. A voice he recognizes at Steve Harrington. The man he’s had a crush on since junior year. The man who’d barely spoken a word to him until recently and – somehow – has become someone Eddie considers a friend.

Fighting interdimensional monsters together has a way of bonding people, he supposes.

“Steve?” he asks, even though he knows, yes, Steve.

“Good morning,” Steve says, and Eddie turns himself towards his voice. Steve is sitting beside him on a beige plastic chair with thin metal legs. Despite his puffy, dark under-eyes and unkempt hair, he’s smiling. He’s handsome.

Eddie doubts Steve could ever not be handsome.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, because it doesn’t make any sense to him. Waking up in a hospital and Steve Harrington being the first person he sees by his side? No way, man. Friends or not, Steve Harrington has better things to do. More important people to tend to. Eddie might be, like, twelfth on the list of important people to tend to, if he’s lucky.

Steve says, “I haven’t left your side since you got here, man,” like that’s the most normal sentence to ever leave his mouth. Tacks on, “I’m so glad you’re awake. I was worried sick,” for good measure.

“What the fuck?” Eddie huffs. Because what the fuck? What the fuck for so many reasons. He can’t wrap his head around any one of them. He doesn’t even try to.

“Dustin is gonna be so fucking happy, dude,” Steve gushes like they’re old pals. He squeezes Eddie’s hand, and that’s when Eddie notices that Harrington is holding his hand. One that is bound by handcuffs to the bedpost. Two more what the fucks to add to the pile.

Honestly, the handcuffs make more sense than the hand holding. He is still a wanted man, after all.

He and Steve talk for at least an hour that day. The next they talk for two. The next – Steve stays with Eddie from lunch until dinner. And so on and so forth until Steve makes a home at the hospital. Until he has as many things stored there as Eddie does – pyjamas and a toothbrush and Farrah Fawcett hairspray. The only time he leaves is for his shifts at Family Video and to sleep. Sometimes even then he slumps over in that plastic chair and nods off for a few hours before heading home to finish his rest in his own bed.

Five days after Eddie wakes up, a middle-aged man in a white coat walks in with two police officers. One of them is Jim Hopper – who as far as Eddie knows ‘died in a mall fire’ (was killed by evil Russians in a military base below that very mall), but here he is, living and breathing and removing the cuffs that bind Eddie to the bed.

“You’re a free man,” says the man in the white coat – Owens, he introduces himself as. “Jason Carver, who tragically died in the earthquake – was found guilty of the murders of Chrissy Cunningham, Patrick McKinney, and Fred Benson, and the attempted murder of Maxine Mayfield. There were several witnesses who contest to it, including Mayfield herself.”

Eddie cries tears of relief. He won’t be heading to prison when he’s healed. His name is cleared. He’s regular old Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson and can live his life in torment in his shitty, homey trailer.

Steve spends the day with Eddie, as always, while Owens makes him sign a stack of papers thicker than his dick is long. Which is, like, above average, but not ginormous. Steve tells Eddie about Hopper – how he’d been in a Russian prison all this time. That El – the little girl with the superpowers – has her dad back. Eddie can’t help but feel happiness even though he was never fond of Jim Hopper (after being escorted home one too many times in his cruiser) and even though he doesn’t personally know El.

It all relates back to that damn Upside Down bond.

Eddie leaves the hospital not even two weeks later.

He gets discharged early because he insists (begs) that he can take care of himself. But his sides burn when he stands, they ache in places so deep that Eddie thinks he might be missing the muscles that feel like they’re on fire. Still Steve drives him back to his trailer. Helps him slide himself onto his shitty mattress. Makes him a can of tomato soup and toasts him some bread and butter.

Eddie should have stayed at the hospital longer, he thinks, but he couldn’t fork the hospital bill.

That changes when Owens covers it and cuts Eddie a large cheque telling him to keep his fucking mouth shut. Not in so many words, but that was the gist.

Eddie gives half of it to Wayne, who asks a million and one questions about where all that money came from. Of course he can’t tell him the truth, so he blurts some bullshit lie about defamation of his name blah blah blah Jason Carver was rich so Eddie got paid by his family as a sorry for dragging him through Hell. It doesn’t seem like a great lie to Eddie, but Wayne nods his head and grumbles something akin to “whatever you say”. Wayne takes the money and puts it in a bank account. He goes back to work even though now he could afford to take a day or two off. Or a year or two. Or even retire.

Eddie also hoards his half. He knows what he’s going to spend his money on, and none of it belongs in Hawkins, Indiana.

He just needs to heal, and he’ll be out of there faster than a bat out of Hell. Or an Eddie out of the Upside Down.

When Eddie tells Steve that Wayne is back to working his nightshifts, it takes him about five seconds to make himself comfortable in Eddie’s trailer as his new roommate.

“No way are you gonna be alone, man,” Steve says, shucking off his shoes and opening the cupboard that he now knows contains the coffee. “What if your stitches pop? What if you fall? You need somebody around, Munson, and it’s going to be me.”

“Fuck off, Steve.” Eddie rolls his eyes. Mostly to hide how red his face is going from the thought of Steve Harrington staying in his home, using his shower, sleeping… where exactly? “I’m not some damsel in distress.”

But Eddie knows it’s a lost cause arguing because Steve is already hands on hips, eyebrows raised, shaking his head like a chastising mother.

“No? How long had it been since you last showered, dude?” Steve asks, trailing his eyes over Eddie’s body like he already knows his answer.

It’s not that Eddie hasn’t gotten under a stream of water, but he can’t move his arms enough to actually clean himself or wash his hair. He didn’t think it was that bad, but obviously he was wrong.

“I’m not sure I’m loving your tone, Harrington.” He pretends not to be as embarrassed as he feels. Out of anyone in the world to point out that he looks dirty, why does it have to be Steve?

“C’mon, man.” Steve grabs Eddie’s arm as gently as he can muster. He starts dragging him towards the bathroom in the trailer. The one that’s so small that barely one person can maneuver within its walls, let alone two.

“You trying to get me naked, Steve?” Eddie asks, heart in throat because he has a creeping suspicion that Steve is actually about to get him naked. He suddenly wishes it hasn’t been months since he last trimmed his pubes, because it’s already been a week since his last proper washing at the hospital. No, it couldn’t just be one or the other.

What a dumpster fire.

“You bet your ass,” says Steve, closing the door to the bathroom behind him even though it’s just him and Eddie inside the trailer. Out of habit, Eddie guesses. “You gonna strip for me, or do you want me to undress you?”

Eddie’s dick chubs up in his sweats.

The bad news is, he doesn’t have time to get it under control before Steve is stepping towards him to peel off his Iron Maiden t-shirt. In fact, it adds fuel to the fire, and Eddie’s dick is now almost at full attention.

There is no good news.

“Woah, woah, woah.” Eddie’s voice breaks through his protests and he barks out a nervous laugh. His hands fly down to cover his crotch because, fuck. How embarrassing. He doesn’t know if it’s worse that Steve got him hard or that he did it by one half-flirted sentence and barely touching the hem of his shirt.

Or maybe the worst part is that he just drew attention to his boner and Steve is looking down to his hands that can’t quite reach to cover it all.

“Calm down, dude,” Steve says nonchalantly. But even through his casual words, Eddie notices his cheeks flushing with his own embarrassment. And that makes Eddie wish he literally died in the Upside Down instead of having to be here, in this moment. “It’s, uh, all cool, right? It’s natural –”

“Jesus fuck,” Eddie cries. He covers his face with his hands, because at least he can pretend that hides all of him. “Please tell me you did not just say that.”

“I mean, I popped a boner one time when Mrs. Turner made me answer a question at the front of the class.”

“That’s literally nothing like this,” Eddie protests.

“That was in front of a teacher and the whole class, dude! How is this worse?”

“Because I’m not contained inside a pair of painted-on Levi’s, Harrington.”

“I won’t look,” Steve promises. It doesn’t make Eddie feel any better about his predicament, but all of the arguing has already made him start deflating.

Eddie focuses on his embarrassment, and the pain pulling at his stitches, and his sharp intake of breath as Steve helps him out of his shirt. He tells Steve he can get his own pants, and he only struggles a little to pull them over his hips and off of his ankles. Steve keeps his back turned as Eddie steps into the hot water.

He kind of wishes it was cold.

His dick is mostly soft when he tells Steve it’s okay to turn around. But still, he faces the shower wall. Steve doesn’t say anything before pressing the pads of his fingers into Eddie’s hair. The suds from the shampoo gathers around Eddie’s shoulders and fall to the floor of the tub.

He moans at the feeling (it’s so much fucking better than those stupid sponge baths at the hospital, okay?), and Steve’s fingers still for a second before starting up again.

For a while, Eddie thinks he’s going to make it through the whole shower experience without getting hard again. But of course when he turns around for the first time to face Steve, sees how his shirt is soaked from the water running down his arms, as Steve lathers a washcloth and starts rubbing down the unscarred portion Eddie’s chest, it happens again.

His traitorous cock fills and fills as Steve washes him.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Eddie,” Steve says. “Seriously. It’s fine, dude.”

Still, Eddie feels he needs to justify himself.

“It’s just ‘cause it’s been so long since I’ve – you know.” Now that he thinks of it, he isn’t sure continuing down this path of conversation is a great idea. In fact, it’s not making the situation better at all, but it’s too late now. So he keeps babbling. “I mean, try going for this long without being able to touch your dick, man –”

“Eddie, I get it.”

“It’s like I’m constantly edging myself –”

“Eddie.”

“And a pair of warm hands all over my body is noooottt helping the situation –”

Steve fumbles with the bar of soap, dropping it on the floor of the small tub. Out of reflex, he bends forward to try to grab it as it skates around the slopes of porcelain beneath Eddie’s feet. Which brings his head dangerously close to Eddie’s crotch. So close, in fact, that he can feel the stands of Steve’s hair tickle his erection.

“Ah – fuck,” he says before he’s able to stop himself, because even if it hasn’t been weeks since he’s been able to get himself off, he’d never be able to stop himself from having a reaction to Steve touching him there. Even if it was purely by accident. Even if it was feather light.

“Sorry! Sorry, dude,” Steve pulls away, leaves the soap on the shower floor. He holds his hands in front of him like he’s saying, ‘I won’t touch you again,’ and, well, since Eddie’s already in such a demeaning situation and there’s no going back, he just can’t have that. Might as well prolong Steve’s fingers on him for as long as possible, right?

“Don’t – just –” he sighs. “Can we start over and pretend this isn’t as awkward as I’ve just made it, Harrington?”

Steve nods.

“Good. Good.” Eddie grins, pretending he’s a lot more comfortable with the situation than he really is. “Now suds me up, big boy.”

Steve continues to clean him. A lot more thoroughly than Eddie expects, swiping over his skin with sure movements and a confidence that Eddie has always lacked when it came to touching someone else. Not that he's done much of that.

Steve's fingers are deft. Warm. Smooth, unlike Eddie's own from years of playing guitar. They tease over his skin, tickling. And if they happen to graze his crotch once or twice, Eddie isn't going to be the one to say anything about it, and obviously Steve isn't, either.

Eventually the shower ends, Steve's hands leave Eddie's body, which he's really thankful for. Because he was nearing the point of no return for a while there. It's Hell - literal agony - to not be able to touch himself once he's shrouded in the darkness and comfort of his own room, a sleeping Steve only feet away on the living room couch. Despite the pain shooting in his abs, his arms, even his neck, he tries.

He tries, and he tries again until he gives up altogether, moaning a sound of discouragement to himself, bringing his hands up to his face to rub it. But even that hurts too much, so he lets them go limp next to his over-eager body.

It wouldn't have been all that bad to endure just the once, but it becomes somewhat of a routine. Steve insisting he bathe Eddie. Eddie allowing it, his body reacting to Steve's hands, wet and soapy, his face, serious and handsome and covered in stubble that he shaves in the evenings rather than the mornings. He always gets excited, and eventually he stops apologizing. Steve starts to expect it.

They continue like that for the following weeks - fueling Eddie with enough spank-bank material to last at least a year - as he slowly but surely, starts to heal.

NEXT CHAPTER

MASTERLIST

SOCIALS

#steddie fic #steddie smut #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #steddie thots #steddie fandom #steddie fanfiction #steddie blurb #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson x steve harrington #eddie x steve #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #bottom eddie munson #top steve harrington #5+1 things #eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut #bisexual steve harrington #gay eddie munson #mlm #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #steve stranger things #eddie munson loves steve harrington #eddie munson lives

[jseobsky]

I'm not weird.

paring ! bf!Niki x gn!Reader genre ! angst-comfort synposis ! people aren't nice with their words towards things they don't understand. after starting to feel ashamed about your interest towards kpop, niki comes to comfort you. warnings ! crying, feeling ashamed, idk bro, swearing haven't proofread w/c ! 0.8k

a/c ! totally not writing this because lately people have been making me feel ashamed of my liking towards kpop- totally not... too lazy to add a picture, might add one later

master list ! enha's master list

Lately my colourful world has faded into a black and white madness. Truly showed me what people’s words could do to my happiness. I wonder if I’ll be strong enough to hide a part of me that is so important, a part of me that has saved my life. I can’t hide what makes me me. But I’ll have to try. People made me ashamed of me, people made me ashamed of what makes me happy. Maybe this means I’ll never be happy again, or at least that I won’t show it.

I talk to my plushy about it. It listens to my rants and to my cries for help. I don’t have a person to talk about it tho, everyone seems to deem what I love as odd. Maybe only unalived things will be my saviour. I also talk to myself, to my imagination, they comfort me. “Am I weird?” I say to the nothingness. A person appears in front of me, it holds my shoulder. “No. No you aren’t. You can’t be, no.” 

“Hey, are you okay?” The soft voice talks to me again, I open my eyes, they immediately start to water. “How did you know?” My voice trembles. He sits on my bed and caresses my hair, trying to stay calm. “Just had a feeling when you didn’t reply to any of my messages. You usually spam me 24/7 about any new kpop news,” Niki says with a frowned expression. I shrink down my bed. I’ve been avoiding talking about anything related to my special interests. It was hard, more when I didn’t know what to talk about outside them. My life revolved around my interests so, did my life just end? “Nothing interesting came out, sorry” I try to come up with an excuse. Niki raises an eyebrow at me. “I know damn well that’s not true, someone just confirmed that aespa is having a comeback soon. Also, today is vi’enx pre-debut album. I know how excited you were about it” I look down. “So confess, who the fuck said something that made you be this down that you haven’t even opened up Spotify to listen to Tricky house like you’ve been for the past weeks?” 

Maybe I couldn’t escape this one. The more I tried to come up with an excuse, the more Niki looked at me waiting for an answer knowing what will be a lie and what will be not. “Some people commented about how weird my liking towards kpop is” I look into his eyes. His eyes are widened and he looks shocked at my answer. “Did they know you?” “Why does that matter?” He scoffed. “Well it’obvious. Anyone who knows you and knows about how happy kpop makes you shouldn’t talk shit about it” I look to the side. Oh. Niki lets out a breath trying to calm himself down. “Look. I’m not saying that if you don’t tell me their names right now I won’t go find them and make them regret their words. But that’s exactly what I’m saying.” He tries to joke. I smile a bit, for the first time in a while. “But meanwhile,” he continues, “let’s talk about why what they said is completely wrong. You shouldn’t feel bad, ashamed, or even disgusted by something that makes you feel happy. Did they say it was weird? Heck, I’m sure their interests are weird as well. Was it a football fan? Lord, I hate those people, they be criticizing people for being fans of things, and then they shout whenever their bias- I mean favourite player scores a goal. Also, it’s not weird. Why would it be weird to enjoy music, to enjoy something?” “They say it’s weird because of the idols, they don’t mind the music, just not my love for the people behind the music.” “Have they never loved an artist? Or a singer? Matter of a fact, have they ever had a friend? Because it doesn’t seem so. It seems they don’t understand the connection you can have with someone because of their craft.” I stand up from my laying position, sitting now in front of Niki. “It’s because of the fanfics, and the jokes about me loving them as if they were my partner” Niki gasped dramatically. “As if they were your partner for fuck's sake. Look at me, I’m the one dating you, right?” I nod. “And I don’t find it weird when you fangirl about how hot does Kang Taemoo or Namjoon look like, right?” “Well I don’t know about that, maybe you do-” “I don’t.” Niki cuts me. “I find it cute, because I know you love me in a completely different way you love them. It makes you happy, why wouldn’t I want you to be happy?” 

We stay quiet for a few seconds. “You’re right” Niki’s eyes soften again at my broken voice. “It makes me happy, I shouldn’t let people make me feel ashamed of it.” He hugs me. “You’re right, you shouldn’t. And seriously, if someone makes you feel like that ever again, tell me. I’ll come and cuddle you while watching a show or a movie and we’ll talk trash about how locals don’t understand us.”

#✿•ᴗ•✿ lili posts! #niki #nishimura riki #riki #enhypen #enha #enha niki #enhypen niki #enhyypen scenarios #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshot #niki imagines #niki x reader #niki x yn #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen ff #niki scenarios

[danepopfrippery]

I cant get over a reply to my take that Stede’s sweetness to Ed isnt patronizing, its meant to be besties sharing soft things with each other. The person said Stede treated Ed and his crew as an asshole colonizer specifically teaching Ed fine dining. Like brah if thats your take block me now cuz I cant even.

I can disagree w ppl on silly shit (steddyhands say) but when you weaponize a whole major set of plot points as whypipo when thats clearly not what it is, just go back to twitter. I think almost every script had at least one poc contributing to it. They never seem to know that. (And yes holy fuck would a colonizer be common irl and irl stede bonnet was an asshole and slave owner no argument).

As for the fine dining lessons: Ed ASKED for uppercrust lessons! Ed, mr ‘skin him with the snail fork’ sat there and genuinely wanted to learn. Ppl who think about skinning w snail forks dont generally stand for patronizing shit.

In fact Ed wanted to go to the French party cuz fine things and it was a chance to work on what Stede had taught him (and remember it wasnt one sided, Ed was teaching him shit too) and Stede didnt want to go!!! But he went! Cuz Ed wanted to! And when they insulted Ed be burned them to the ground.

As for the crew on face value id agree he was patronizing. But thats as lazy as the yummy soap take. It has been said by Rhys and others Stede saw this as a chance to play w friends he basically paid to spend time w him. They were all free to go.

And what stands out to me is several times we are shown Stede thinks of them as equals. When Lucius says only the two of them can read hes shocked by that. Never dawned on him most of them would be illiterate. Yes hes dumb (illiteracy was extremely common back then) but that says to me he never thought of these ppl are lower class than me.

He pays them, he feeds them, he added a bunch of rooms just to spoil them (u cant tell me the jam room was for his kids when the harpsichord is in his cabin). He plans little activities to keep them happy and doesnt MAKE them do anything (or punish them if they dont). He tried to talk Black Pete into sewing but never forced him. Instead of picking a fav flag he hung all of them cuz he cares about them (who else would do that cmon?!)

They only decide not to kill him cuz he can do the voices in the stories right. They love bedtime stories! Again its not forced or punished if not. Same for pickleball etc.

But the biggest one to me is what ppl grab onto just on the surface. We know racism, slavery and homophobia do all exist in this universe and we whiff it right away in ep 1. Yes the poc staff is relegated to playing servants but we werent shown who decided that (id bet frenchie cuz he knows rich assholes and u dont want to piss off the british navy).

Stede only went for that ship to make his crew like him, and only brought Badminton and co onboard to save everyone from the british navy. He immediately takes everyone into his room and dishes out outfits and fake names/backstories. This includes everyone poc and white.

How the fuck do u reckon that man had an outfit that fit not only Oluwande but Wee John?! Perfectly might i add. Its never shown what happens after only Olu still being in costume after they send the lone survivor back. Im making a leap ill agree but me thinks he had that shit custom made for his crew esp cuz a few of them had complimentary pieces. And there is no good reason that man would have something for someone as tall and large as Wee John.

The Brits dont start being shitty tip after Stede and the captain leave. At which point Jim, Black Pete and several others attack. They have no time for that shit and Stede never argues about it later. In fact he had a plan to send the beheaded bodies and lone survivor back.

And then theres the fact later Stede has a matching set of tailored suits for him, Lucius and his fuckin prisoner!!! I mean it was his idea to do that, and he had the clothes. When he meets Ed properly he doesnt even hesitate to show him his pretty clothes or share them. They stay in each others clothes all night.

In fact i looked this up and ur average wealthy man had 4 sets of clothes in this time period. Stede is obviously obsessed w clothing. Your average person was lucky to have two sets if even. Those outfits had to cost an insane amount of money even for a wealthy man.

If u were truly a classist, colonist asshole u wouldnt be doling out thousand dollar outfits like candy.

I could go on but i think what makes fake Stede endearing as a character is he is genuinely happy to make friends. And he never seems to view them lesser whether it be race or class. I just cant agree.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta #ofmd costumes

[fyodorloveclub]

nsfw is fine for me, it can be sfw if you want

not comfy w/ sharing my real name on here so lets just go with Lycoris

i am a computer science student in college

im 5'8, white, i have blue/gray eyes, and dark red dyed hair in a bob with bangs

i am the parental friend who will ask questions, talk to people, keep us out of trouble, volunteer for things etc UNTIL i fimd someone who i trust enough to do that for me. then its chaos. i have adhd if that helps anything lol

enfp

i play genshin, persona 5, and minecraft; i play the guitar and sometimes write music (also sing and play a couple other instruments); i like reading literature: i watch anime; i like solving puzzles and working with technology; i occasionally upload on youtube or stream on twitch (not sharing it to tumblr lol) (im also a christian but im here on a tumblr smut acc)

im a very picky eater, i swear im like a child, i dont try anything i dont already like. i am a very assertive and opinionated person so if i dont like something You Will Know. but at the same time i can keep it back to be polite (except for food im sorry i will live off of ramen until i die)

any of the adult males, fuckin surprise me

nope nothing else to add <3

lycoris x ranpo

✧ surpriseee your silly little man is The ranpo edogawa himself

✧ you guys work so well bc you both compliment and counteract each other. you're very similar in some ways but complete opposites in others, which is. essential for relationships

✧ ranpo is a (loveable) dumbass and could definitely use your parental friend abilities, mostly when it comes to like changing lightbulbs, taking the train, doing the fucking laundry. he's so smart but so stupid pls be patient with him

✧ BUT i think he very much could step up and be that person you could trust wholeheartedly. you could let your chaos show with him he could handle it. he might match it with his own crazy tho bfdakljfk

✧ i would be SCARED to see your guys' kitchen dkfjkadsljf like oh my god. you both are the worlds pickiest eaters, and ranpo's obsession with snacks and sweets...... you would need an entire pantry shelf dedicated to just ramen and another one just for all of his candy. id get a fucking cavity just from entering the room

✧ you're slightly taller than him (2 inches) but he absolutely refuses to admit this. when he stands next to you he'll stand a bit on his tippie toes and everyone just pretends its not happening LMAO poor ranpo </3

✧ you hardcore bond over your love for puzzles and reading and problem solving. this is likely how the two of you ended up meeting and/or interacting for the first time, and is something relatively integral to your relationship. its something that both calms you down and can start fights fkjdalj;f like if you solved a poe novel first he wouldn't speak to you for like 3 days

✧ you are both . very opinionated and this can be good and bad

✧ bad in that you'd have to be very conscious about the fact that you inevitably will butt heads, and knowing the best ways for the two of you to cool off either together or individually.

✧ good because if you guys share a really strong opinion about a certain tv show or hatred for a person that is. talking material for DAYS you could both get hyperfixated on the same things and everyone at the agency is like oh jesus fucking christ. not them again

✧ you'll def find yourselves in arguments about the silliest things which isn't necessarily a bad thing sdlkjfdsjk like one morning you're bickering because ranpo was like NO YOU DEFINITELY HAVE MORE MARSHMALLOWS IN YOUR LUCKY CHARMS THAN I DO and you're like WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING A BOUT

✧ i promise i genuinely think you guys would work well together i really do fklajfkdj

✧ i dont think he really understands video games at all, like thats not his thing. but he def will sit there absolutely mesmerized as you stream.

✧ i know cockwarming where the guy is the one playing the games but why cant it be the other way around. u ride him as you play video games. why not. i said so

✧ he'd LOVE listening to you play music

✧ anyway. power couple. the two of you would drive everyone at the agency insane with your antics but they'd all love you too :)

#AA HOPE U LIKE #matchups #demon: scaramouches-girlfriend #ranpo bsd #ranpo x reader #matchmaking

[15ktherapy]

two girls got into a fight today. I gave one of the girls like five bucks on account of how she just totally didn’t deserve it. like I feel soooo fucking bad for her. this other girl is. nuts. a little. it’s the goth girl. idk if I mentioned it but ppl shit talk her. bc she isn’t there a lot. so it’s like This Shit Costs Money What Does She Think She’s Doing? and she also talks. so much. and like. I’ve felt bad for her. bc I’d want to know if people thought I was really annoying so I could stop being annoying and not get shit. so I told her this morning hey ppl talk ahit about u here is why (she already knows she’s not. Liked. due to an incident in a group chat yesterday) so I’m like hey if ur wondering why people just seem mean to u here’s why. and she’s like. essentially “not my problem” thing. which. girl I’m trying to help you. whatever

so she continues to talk everyone eats off, and say just. out of pocket unnecessary shit because she has to voice every thought she has. like I can tell u where this girl lives, how tall her last three boyfriends were, and her monetary situation BASED ON INHERITANCE. like she was talking about her. nephew or something. who has adhd and how his mom is trying to get more help for him and how she. Doesn’t like that? and. okay hi yeah I’ve been adhd diagnosed since I was seven bc I was that bad. the one other guy in my class said he did too. so me and him are kind of like- sometimes people need extra help. but she doesn’t care- whatever. then she says something I don’t even remember what about types of kids and this Sweetest Lady who ppl call mamabear bc she is a Big one. has a kid like whatever judgment goth girl is making and mamabear pretty much says Don’t Speak On Things You Don’t Know About. VERY NICELY. might I add. mamabear walks out the door bc she busy. goth girl says some bitchass IM SUCH A VICTIM shit . anyway I leave the room w angie bc we are Also busy.

by the time me and angie get round to the classroom again goth girl is RUNNING OUT THE ROOM with another girl behind her trying to get her to fucking relax and act like an adult. and it was a whole ass thing.

anyway so angie likes tea I do too I just try to be nicer— and apparently when mamabear came back goth girl decided to give her Shit. to which mamabear is like girl I don’t wanna do this ? but goth keeps going and mamabear understandably calls the goth a bitch so the goth calls her a cunt and idk know what happens but they Almost get into a physical fight. there’s like seven other ppl in the room just like ready to thrown down for mamabear or take goth bitch for her- and like one or two who are more peacekeepery.

anyway so I just feel so bad for mamabear cuz she didn’t deserve that shit and also this goth bitch is playing the biggest white woman tears. mamabear is latina so like. this other girl pulling out her fucking BUT IM THE VICTIM shit is. an extra fucking layer on the shitty cake.

this goth girl better count her prayers cuz if she tries to get on anyone again she is not going to be fighting one person she is going to be fighting the entire class of like fifteen to twenty people. good fuckin luck girl. I’ve tried to help you but if you don’t want it there’s nothing I can do about that.

[hakasims]

The Most Important Review of Every Single Marwan Kenzari Film

If you’ve seen this one about Luca, you know the drill.

Now, Marwan’s brand is a little less defined than Luca’s but I managed to find similar tropes in a lot of his films. Also, rather than copy myself and give you a redundant Marwanmeter, I decided instead to recommend which Luca character best pairs with each Marwan character for your crossover pleasure. Let’s see if we ship the same things! Some of them are crack. You’re welcome.

(all gifs again by the awesomely amazing @weardes​ who did not ask to be my gif factory but life’s a bitch)

Het zusje van Katia (2008)

Will you miss him if you blink? Kinda. They talk about him a lot but his actual screen time is like 43.7 seconds. Also can I just say... he’s supposed to be from Italy?? The boy says literally one (1) Italian word, and you’ll never guess what it is. (Obviously, it’s “bella” like there’s a chance he could’ve said anything else.)

Is he hot? Painfully hot.

Is he naked? There’s this one scene where he’s wearing the sluttiest pair of speedos I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

Does his hair look great? Actually, yes. Perfect hair, perfect beard, he looks amazing.

Does he fuck? Yes, a lot - off screen, including an M/M/F threesome he presumably, probably, most definitely initiated.

Best paired with? From what I’ve gathered, this hoe ain’t loyal, so the best course of action is to find him a Luca that would benefit from a one night stand with no strings attached and wouldn’t fall in love with him. The obvious choice here is Valerio from Slam - Tutto per una ragazza. They meet, they fuck, then Giac makes his 4-hour drive back to Pisa, and they don’t see each other again until the next time he’s in Rome. Everybody’s happy, especially the two sluts in question.

De laatste dagen van Emma Blank (2009)

Will you miss him if you blink? Yes, absolutely.

Is he hot? Very.

Is he naked? Almost constantly.

Does his hair look great? He’s got those cute short curls, he looks so good.

Does he fuck? That’s literally why he’s there: to fuck and to die.

Best paired with? Man, I wish I had something to work with here. The only thing we know about him besides his sexual prowess is his affinity for white suits and toy helicopters. And as far as I know, those might be the exact things Fabrizio from Nina finds hot in guys. So like, why not?

Loft (2010)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s the fifth most important character.

Is he hot? Yeah, sure.

Is he naked? There’s a scene where he’s wearing underwear and a tank top but it somehow makes him look like a kindergartener.

Does his hair look great? It looks quite nice.

Does he fuck? Yes, though I wish he didn’t.

Best paired with? Tom is a very violent person and a drug addict. He does messed up stuff to his sexual partners I’d rather he didn’t do to any of Luca’s characters. Feel free to use him for your sadistic fantasies or as a villain or whatever.

Rabat (2011)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s one of the three leads.

Is he hot? Oh yes! And cute!

Is he naked? He’s at the beach wearing nothing but boxer shorts.

Does his hair look great? He’s got this extreme undercut thing that would look ridiculous on anyone less pretty, so like no, he doesn’t have great hair, but also like it’s Marwan, you know what I mean?

Does he fuck? Before he embarks on a road trip with his friends, he has an offscreen threesome with two girls he picked up at a wedding. Slut.

Best paired with? Gabriele from Waves. They’re both sweet guys who could meet in some Tunisian port and decide to sail the Mediterranean Sea together.

Black Out (2012)

Will you miss him if you blink? Not unless your blinking is very deliberate.

Is he hot? Not really. He’s a dirty cop with a shitty moustache and oral fixation.

Is he naked? No, but I wish he was: his clothes are awful. Marwan is 29 in this movie and he looks 50!

Does his hair look great? Nope. They took Marwan’s usual short hair and made it not work somehow.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? The one thing Luca’s characters all have in common is that none of them come off as bootlickers. All of them are either too soft for such a relationship or wouldn’t waste their spit on a cop.

Wolf (2013)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist.

Is he hot? *gestures wildly at the gif*

Is he naked? He’s got quite a few shirtless scenes.

Does his hair look great? It’s nothing special but suits his character well.

Does he fuck? Oh yes.

Best paired with? Hear me out. I know that some people ship him with Fabio, but in my opinion that pair, while hot, doesn’t work. Here’s my pitch: Cesare from Non essere cattivo. The drug connection is still there, but in this case Majid’s problem-solving skills won’t fall on deaf ears. Cesare needs a daddy, ok? Majid can be a daddy when he needs to, especially when he has a soft boyfriend to care for. And Majid needs soft, not psycho.

Hartenstraat (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist once again.

Is he hot? Painfully.

Is he naked? There’s that iconic scene where he’s wearing nothing but black boxer briefs and boots while carrying a tray...

Does his hair look great? He’s got Joe-like curls and looks like what every male romantic lead should aspire to look like and then cry because they all fail.

Does he fuck? There’s one very unfortunate sex scene played for laughs. I’m pretty sure he’ll need therapy afterwards. I certainly do.

Best paired with? Paolo from Il padre d’Italia. Paolo deserves the best boyfriend, and who’s better than Daan, an extremely hot man who cooks? They both have daughters, so they can talk about that, I guess, and Paolo can finally have a family. Honestly, this is so wholesome I just made myself cry.

Lucia de B. (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? For sure.

Is he hot? He’s a cop. Again. But he looks good.

Is he naked? Fully dressed, but man are his clothes ugly. Is that a cop thing?

Does his hair look great? He has slightly longer curls, which is fine and the best thing about this character.

Does he fuck? ACAB. (I know this doesn’t answer the question, I just wanted to make it clear.)

Best paired with? See my bootlicker comment from earlier. While Detective *checks notes* Ron Leeflang isn’t explicitly corrupt, he’s obviously a dick, so the best I can do here is recommend any Luca character that has ever been in trouble with the law for any fics about power imbalance you want to write but aren’t comfortable with a nice Marwan playing the villain.

Bloedlink (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? Oh no, he’s there the entire time.

Is he hot? In a weird way, yes.

Is he naked? So, so, so naked. Like, leave nothing to the imagination naked.

Does his hair look great? I’d say that little rat tail is the exact opposite of great.

Does he fuck? Probably more than is good for him. I should also add that he’s canonically queer in this.

Best paired with? Rico is a pathetic loser in need of someone who’s got his life together and has a lot of experience dealing with fuckups. Enter Loris from Il mondo fino in fondo. He has a stable job and a savior complex, and with his little bro gaying it up in Chile and not needing him anymore, all he wants right now is someone to fix. I should be a fucking matchmaker in real life, for real.

Pak van mijn hart (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? Undoubtedly.

Is he hot? No. The whole point of his character is to be the lesser choice compared to a guy who looks like a completely ordinary bland white dude...

Is he naked? ...so of course he isn’t naked! What, are they gonna take this poor woman, show her Marwan Kenzari’s post-Wolf body and expect her to choose her deeply mediocre ex? Please! They’re gonna dress him in the dorkiest clothes possible...

Does his hair look great? ...and make him wear the most awful wig that was clearly run over by a truck.

Does he fuck? No. As you can observe, they tried really hard to make him unfuckable, but honestly, he seems like a perfectly nice guy.

Best paired with? You know what? Mattia from La solitudine dei numeri primi is in desperate need of some sweetness and normalcy. I’m sure Richard will treat him with kindness and respect.

Collide (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s the fifth most important character. Out of five.

Is he hot? Very hot.

Is he naked? Not for a second! What’s up with American movies where people aren’t just casually walking around naked without any plot necessity???

Does his hair look great? His curls are so cute you guys! Look at them!

Does he fuck? Not explicitly.

Best paired with? Fabio from Lo chiamavano Jeeg Robot. Again, the drug connection is there, but Matthias is soft enough not to butt heads with Fabio and, by the end of the movie, rich enough to satisfy his cravings for good living and fame. Also look at how good their color coordination is with those dark wine red clothes! Sometimes planets just align, okay?

Ben-Hur (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? Yes, especially if you aren’t watching the background.

Is he hot? Your usual Marwan hot.

Is he naked? No.

Does his hair look great? His typical short curls with a twist. I think the forehead area is supposed to invoke the Caesar cut? I don’t know. It looks fine when not hidden under that dumb helmet.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? A better script and a much better director. (Seriously, what is this blocking?)

The Promise (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s there a decent amount in the first half of the movie and then almost completely disappears in the second half.

Is he hot? Very much, yes.

Is he naked? Unfortunately, no.

Does his hair look great? He’s got short curls again, but this time they’re fashionably styled, it’s magnificent.

Does he fuck? Oh yeah! And there’s no way he isn’t bi or pan in this. No way.

Best paired with? Roberta from L’ultimo terrestre. Listen, Emre Ogan may be a slut but he’s a gentleman, okay? He’d treat Roberta right and he’s got daddy’s cash to spare on hundreds of gorgeous white dresses for her.

The Mummy (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s there, but barely.

Is he hot? Dangerously hot.

Is he naked? Not once! Instead we get a naked Tom Cruise literally no one asked for.

Does his hair look great? It’s your basic professional short hairdo.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? Malik is a member of an organization tracking and destroying various monsters and historical artefacts related to them. Guido from Tutti i santi giorni speaks four languages, including Latin, and is a literature and ancient history nerd which makes him a valuable asset. Malik can fight and protect; Guido is bumbling and in need of saving. Guys, this writes itself.

What Happened to Monday (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, especially not in the third act.

Is he hot? He’s okay.

Is he naked? Very naked.

Does his hair look great? They shouldn’t have greased his curls back. He looks like another victim of Fabio Cannizzaro’s stylist. Also I wish he’d either shaved or finished growing out that beard.

Does he fuck? He fucks and he fucks good. He’ll go down on you, he’ll deflower you slowly and gently, he’ll choke you if you want him to, he’ll spoon you all night, he’ll give you emotional support, he’ll murder people for you - he’s down for whatever.

Best paired with? There’s one Luca character who needs a lot of sex and even more emotional support. Alright, most of them do, but I’m thinking of Ettore from Lasciate andare. He needs it, okay? Good dicking, good spooning, a good ear, a fine piece of ass to cry into - you get the gist. Most importantly: someone who’d love him for who he is and with whom he could relax and be himself. (Also, I see you, people comparing him to Fabio. Shame on you for sleeping on this soft boy and judging him based on his appearance.)

Murder on the Orient Express (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s kinda always present, being very French.

Is he hot? Very hot.

Is he naked? No, but I’m willing to forgive that because he looks so good in his conductor uniform.

Does his hair look great? He never takes off his hat.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? Mickey Miranda. They’re both murderers morally dubious characters who would look hot together. What else do you need? (Again, I see you, people who want Pierre for Roberta because he’s a “nice guy”, and I know for a fact you didn’t watch the movie. Spoilers, I guess.)

The Angel (2018)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist.

Is he hot? Oh yes.

Is he naked? Not once, but you won’t regret it because he’s wearing excellently stylish 1970s clothes.

Does his hair look great? It looks fantastic. The sideburns (not yet seen here) are a good touch.

Does he fuck? He can definitely get it, but he’s loyal to his wife.

Best paired with? As the most aesthetically coherent and fashionably hot pair in this post, Ashraf and Primo are a no-brainer. Can you imagine Primo calling him “Angel” in different contexts? When he’s being intimidating, not realizing how palpable the sexual tension between them is, and later not even hiding his arousal? Sometimes things just work because they’re hot. That’s all, folks.

Aladdin (2019)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the main villain.

Is he hot? It’s not like he went viral for being the “hot Jafar” or anything.

Is he naked? No! Fucking thanks a lot, Disney.

Does his hair look great? He has a buzz cut under that turban but he looks good in the turban, so that’s something.

Does he fuck? It’s a Disney movie, so he doesn’t fuck - explicitly or otherwise - but he still comes off as a thirsty bitch.

Best paired with? Jafar ends the movie as a genie who’s obligated to grant his master three wishes but is enough of a petty bitch to exploit the hell out of the “gray area” and screw them over Wishmaster style. My unconventional pair for him is Lui from Ricordi? So many scenarios with distorted memories and magic-induced mindfuck. So many possibilities for awesome and messed up crossover gifsets! Don’t say I never give you guys anything.

Instinct (2019)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s very prominent.

Is he hot? I hate myself for finding him hot but I do.

Is he naked? He’s playing basketball shirtless in one scene, shaking his sweaty boobs everywhere.

Does his hair look great? His weird mohawk-like thing is honestly terrible, but if anything can make it work, it’s Marwan’s bone structure.

Does he fuck? Um, I’m pleading the Fifth on this one for the sake of good taste.

Best paired with? Prison. A very lonely, Luca-less prison.

The Old Guard (2020)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, unless blinking in your case means sleeping through the gloriousness that is the first ever canonically gay couple in an American action film.

Is he hot? Painfully.

Is he naked? Shirtless in one scene.

Does his hair look great? Soft curls courtesy of Luca Marinelli’s tireless lobbying.

Does he fuck? Not on screen, but you can just tell by the way he looks at his husband and reads impromptu poetry right to his face. And everybody knows nothing kindles the fires of passion quite like murdering homophobes together.

Best paired with? If you have to ask, you’re clearly reading this by mistake. In which case, kudos for finishing such a long and confusing post, now go watch The Old Guard and cry at the beauty that is The Immortal Marriage.

#marwan kenzari #luca marinelli #the old guard #and other movies #i'm lazy #immortal husbands #and their parallel versions i guess #crossover ships galore

[softluci]

gen. writing guide

hi, so, like, if you're a white or light/fair-skinned person who doesn't wear a bonnet to sleep, and you also write y/n or x-reader fics, i am speaking directly to you. i keep  talking about how people don't know how to write inclusively [because it's annoying], but i noticed that i haven't made an effort to create something that might be of help. this is just going to be a general, barely in-depth guide for what to do and what Not to do when writing your x-reader fics, with alternatives to what you probably already do. also!! feel free to add to this or ask me a question if i missed something because this isn’t comprehensive.

to start, i should note that my writing is in no way Spectacular or anything, i just learned how to write without excluding people after so many years of being excluded [albeit unintentionally]. also, this is not a, “let people write how they want,” scenario. if you want to write something wherein anyone can insert themselves, you shouldn't be excluding people because you think your experiences are universal. i'm gonna give all of you the benefit of the doubt by saying i don't think you're being malicious, but i do think you just don't know how to write these types of things properly. 

and by the way:

now let's get started.

conveying emotions via skin

this is a big one; arguably the most common way for a person to fuck up an x-reader, and for a white/fair-skinned author, it’s so miniscule, but to people with darker skin, it stands out about ten times more than you think it would.

do not. do Not. Do Not say anything about your reader’s skin turning red when they’re angry or nervous or embarrassed or feeling any emotion that, to you, warrants a blush. people with darker skin don’t turn beet red, or red at all, actually, and seeing things like, “your face reddened,” is so, so frustrating, especially when the alternatives are so much better. 

let’s say you’re trying to convey anger. if no one is perceiving that anger (if your character is alone), or if you just want to talk about that anger as it pertains to them, the best way to do it is to talk about how it feels. shortness of breath, a quickened heartbeat you can feel in your throat and hear in your ears, heat rushing to your face (this is an especially good substitute for redness), etc. if you want to convey embarrassment, you can do it in a way that’s almost the same as anger, just with a different context. that is to say, you can talk about your reader’s heartbeat and heat rushing to their head/face. literally as long as you do not talk about blushing or skin turning pink/red, it’s fine. 

now, if you’re writing a blushy emotion, and someone else is perceiving it, the best way to do that is to talk about your reader’s outward appearance, albeit there are slight cheat codes for obm because they all have heightened senses and could 100% hear your heartbeat or blood rush. but anyway—pinched eyebrows, narrowed eyes, clenched fists, a change in their demeanor, maybe they’re yelling or look like they’re about to yell, etc. 

if someone else is not only perceiving a blushy emotion, but also causing it and encouraging it (like, teasing, for example), and you want them to comment on it, there are literally so many things you can do. you can have them get close enough to your reader that they can feel their heartbeat/how warm they’re getting, you can have them touch any one of your reader’s pulse points, actually (ex: neck, wrist), you can have them say something like, “why are you so nervous?” or “what’s that face for?” 

the world is your oyster, but for the love of everything that is good, just Don’t Write Your Reader Blushing. thank u.

acts of intimacy w/ hair 

this is another big one that is very miniscule to non-black people, but, again, it sticks out about ten times more than you think it does, and it is one of the biggest ways you can fuck up an x-reader. 

“he tucked your hair behind your ear,” “he ran his hand through your hair,” “he threaded his fingers through your hair,” friend, my hair is type 4, and i wear a bonnet. no he didn’t, and if he tried, it would just piss me awf. 

i understand that, if you’re nb, a person running their hands through your hair or playing with it is a common occurrence and display of affection, but, like i said earlier, your experiences are not universal. so, what’s the best way to avoid making this slip up? pretend every single one of your readers is baldheaded. i’m not even kidding. just don’t ever mention hair. 

some other ways to convey soft intimacy could be having a character play w/ your reader’s hands/fingers, tracing repeated shapes/patterns into their skin, or, if you want, literally just laying with/holding them. there are so many options, just leave hair out of it, and you’ll be better off. 

imagery 

this doesn’t happen nearly as much as the first two, i don’t think, but it still happens a fucking lot, where, like, an author will write something where you know they think their reader is white, and it’s so—like, i can’t even put into words how it makes me feel. just know i hate it. and, of course, this is a small thing for white authors, but it stands out So Much More than you think it does, i promise you.

“your porcelain skin,” “your pale hands,” “your pink lips,” see what i mean? 

i understand wanting to include imagery in your writing, but at the same time, notice how all of those descriptive words are completely unnecessary and add absolutely nothing to anything? it would actually be easier to just Not Include Them. they’re literally just filler words, and if you’re confident enough in your writing skills, you shouldn’t be including them. 

so, what’s the solution here? simply put: don’t. 

cool, thanks, hope this helps, ask questions if u need to ^_^

#might do one for gender neutral writing later on but we'll see #if i see one (1) white person try and gaslight me i'm dead gonna go ballistic #like i've been experiencing this since i was like 11 #i do not wanna hear that im exaggerating #like.....me and every other black reader/writer are ALL exaggerating? ok #obey me #obey me! #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me fic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon #obey me solomon

[suicidalslasher]

𝒖𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕 ➤ 𝑱𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝑫.

Nothing but porn w/o a plot. There actually is a plot and if anybody is confused on the ending, I can explain but it’s more porn than anything.... so, here you go, you filthy animals. 

WARNINGS: choking, degradation, use of a gun (brief), a lot of dirty talk... of course. Oral, m on f / f on m. Fingering. Squirting. (brief.)

!! Female reader. Readers pronouns are she/her. !!

ps: if you enjoy my content and have a dollar or two to spare, here’s my ko-fi. 

“You don’t know me, but something terrible is going to happen. That boy you call your boyfriend isn't a man at all, in fact, he's a monster and he's only using you to kill you, for your blood to be on his hands, for him to be the cause of your death. He's twisted, that way.  He's not as nice as he portrays himself to be. If  I were you  — and once upon a time ago, I was in your shoes, I was you —  I'd get the hell out of that relationship and quickly."          Jason looked up from the letter his girlfriend,  (Y/N), had received in her locker. His lips are pressed together tightly into a white slash, his jaw clenched and in a sharp tone, he asks, "So.... what? You're going to break up with me over a  letter that a complete stranger put in your locker?" He sneered, grinding his teeth together before he stood up, moving the chair back as he does so. 

The piece of furniture loudly squeaks against the floor, making (Y/N) grimace and flinch at the obnoxious  noise. It's not the only thing in the room being annoying, though.    "No." (Y/N) answers,  giving an eyeroll in return to his question as she folds her arms across her chest.  "I want to see the monster you supposedly are, that's all." She adds.  "This isn't the first or even the second letter that says those words. There's been an endless amount and quite frankly, my beloved J.D, I'm suspicious  on what it exactly means."  "You believe the notes, do you?" He questions,  stepping closer to his girlfriend, eyebrow arched as he waits for her response.  "I do..... or I don't. That's up to you to decide for me. So, enlighten me, Jason, are you a monster in disguise or are you not and someone's simply playing a trick on not only me but the both of us?"  "What is it you're trying to do to me, (Y/N)?"  "Oh my God, fuck me like you hate me, fuck me like the monster that you supposedly are, according to the pieces of paper I receive every day.. I want to see whether or not it's true."  Jason is silent, as if he had gone mute. He was standing inches away from her face, doing - saying - nothing. Only... staring, like he was a starved predator and she was his only prey, his first feast of the day.  

Though, she knows the air conditioner isn't on, and neither are the windows open, (Y/N) shivers as if it were cold. But it was his eyes  that were frosty. His eyes were two lifeless pools of abyss-black, an ice-cold stare he was giving. Finally, he speaks for what feels like ages since he last talked, although it had only been a minute or two since he did, "I hate you. Despise you, actually.  Don't even know why we continue to have this fucking conversation. You're seriously so fucking annoying," He spat.  (Y/N) wasn't sure if he meant the words or not, either way, it did feel like a stab in the chest.  She purses her lips together and she goes to say something but before she could, his hand is wrapped around her throat and her back is pushed up against the wall.  "I should strangle you."  "Is that a promise?" She gasped out.  "Once I start, I might not be able to stop." He informs, clicking his tongue against the root of his mouth.  His grip, however, gets tighter and as fucked up as it may sound, (Y/N) grows wetter, she squeezes  her thighs tighter together and has to bite back a moan at the feeling of his hand around her throat. "I don't care what you do," (Y/N) replied truthfully, voice low and groggy, as if she had just woken up. "Just fuck me."  "My pleasure."  To her disappointment, Jason  drops his hand down at his side before gesturing to the floor with a motion of his finger.  "Get on your knees, this cock isn't going to suck itself."  (Y/N) is more than happy to oblige as she crashed to her knees,  quickly, undoing  his belt buckle and unbuttoning  his jeans.  In only a matter of seconds, he's got his pants and boxer briefs off, hanging down his ankles and his dick is being swallowed by his favorite cock-slut.  

Her eyes are fluttered shut as she tries to concentrate  on pleasing him. And as always, she's doing a great job at doing so. Then he remembers — this was a punishment and she deserved to be punished.  She wanted for him to unleash the beast, after all, right? So, he would be doing that.  Jason growls and grabs the back of her neck, fingers finding their way up to her hair as he then forces  her further down onto her cock, making her sputter and choke, a few drops of spit soaking his shaft as he face-fucks (Y/N)'s throat.   "Take it, slut. You wanted this, remember? Wanted to see the man behind the mask, well, here I am, baby, standing proudly right in front of you. Take my cock, choke on it like the filthy, little bitch you are. That's all you are, isn't it, sweetheart? You aren't important enough for me to keep around, according to the letters you get. Only keep you around so I can fuck you like the desperate whore you are. Is that what you want to hear? Huh?"  (Y/N)'s eyes are full of tears and she knows, without even looking in the mirror, her cheeks are stained with mascara and her lipstick is smudged, as her throat is getting pounded by the man above her, his grip on her hair is too tight, it's too much and yet not enough. 

She wants more — no, scratch that —  needs more.   "Desperate cock-hungry bitch, aren't you, baby? Starving for me to feed you my cock, to feed you my cum. You'll just open your legs to anyone, everyone, too, huh?  Especially me, even when you know exactly what I've done.... letters or no letters, you know the kind of person I am.. and yet, I'm the monster? You're no saint, either, miss (L/N).You're as crazy and as fucked up as I am."  (Y/N) nearly  (key-word there) makes a mess in her panties. And she hasn't touched herself at all yet, neither has Jason placed a finger yet on her.   

 Jason, on the other end, notices how her fingernails are digging themselves into his bare, naked thighs rougher than they had been previously. There's also more sweat pooling at the top of her forehead, too. He was making a complete mess out of her and was loving every single second of it.  "What is it, baby girl? You want to cum for me? Going to cum for me, untouched? Oh, so naughty, filthy little thing," He cooed, slowing down his movements as he continues to push his dick further down her throat, feeling more saliva spill out of her mouth and wetting his cock as he does so. 

 "Go on then, baby. Make a mess all in your panties. I know you can do it." And, well, yeah, just like that (Y/N) is coming, untouched, all while Jason does the same, feeding her his cum with a grunt of her name escaping his lips.   (Y/N) hums happily as she pulls back, wiping what remains on her cheeks onto her fingers, coating her digits with his  ejeculation and slips the juices into her mouth, making sure to poke her tongue out and give Jason a show — she wanted to prove how much of a slut she really was, and how desperate she was to have him bury his cock in her pussy. She needed the pain, wanted to feel it. She wanted it rough.   "So... what else do you have in plan?"  (Y/N) wonders, looking up at him with a smirk.   That little grin placed on her lips is quick to fall down into a worried frown when Jason pulls a gun out at her, pressing it against her skull.   "I could kill you since I got what  I needed." His voice was as devoid of life as an ossuary and his eyes were still soul-penetrating.  Not even a hint of a smile, not even a sign of amusement in the tone of voice. Surely, he wasn't being serious.... was he?  He presses the end of the gun to her mouth, making her lips part open as he presses  the gun inside.  "Could blow your brains out, right here, right now.... since that's all I'm going to do to you, anyways, right? I'll kill you eventually, why not now?"  Jason pulls the trigger.   

It's a blank.  Of fucking course it is.  "I'm only kidding," He said, chuckling lowly as he places the gun back into the pocket of his trench coat.    "You're a fucking dick." (Y/N) hisses, getting up on her feet and raising her hand up, slapping him on the cheek. "Don't scare me like that,"   "You're the one who was sucking my dick, first of all.... and you are also the one who wanted me to show you just how awful I could be... so, it's your fault." Jason said.   "Oh, shut up and kiss me already. 'm tired of this roleplay. Just want you inside me. Now."  "As you wish, your majesty." Jason laughs, bending forward as he picks his girlfriend up, throwing her over his shoulder and carries  her to his bedroom, kicking the door open with his foot. 

He then falls down onto the bed, letting his girlfriend fall on the mattress as well, (Y/N) squealing loudly as she tries to get comfortable and find a cozy spot along the mountain of pillows that rest against the headboard of the bed.  "Can I at least see if you're as sweet as you look?"  Jason asks,  licking his lips.   For obvious reasons, (Y/N) doesn't argue.  All she does is nod her head and lets a breathless pant out, answering with a, 'yes, please'.  She shimmies out of her pants, pulling her panties down as she strips out of both. Once they're off, she throws them elsewhere, not worried where they end up nor does she have time to worry about such things because the moment she's naked, Jason is pulling her legs apart and is quick to bury his face in her thighs.

 "Oh, God, fuck. Should've given me a warning, baby." She whines, fingers brushing through his hair as she tugs his black locks, pulling him closer, dragging his face closer to her cunt. "Need you so badly...." She murmurs, feeling the smile of her boyfriend's face against her heat. His tongue dances against her clit, flicking this way and that. He was always phenomenal with his mouth, more so his tongue than anything else. (Other than his dick, of course.)  (Okay, everything about J.D, other than his temper, was amazing.)  There were no words to describe it other than perfection and magical.  "Jason, baby..."  Hearing her pleas and knowing he's doing an excellent job, he continues, this time adding a finger and pushing it deep inside, earning a loud gasp to spill from (Y/N)'s lips. "Jason, fuck!"   She's wet, this much is obvious, but she's leaving a puddle not only on his face but beneath her. She'll have to wash the comforter later, she hopes she isn't leaving any stains behind either and can wash it out in time before it does leave an imprint.  

 These thoughts are replaced when Jason adds another finger, and she isn't so sure if he has two inside or three, all (Y/N) knows is it feels so fucking good and if he doesn't stop, she's going to cum soon. "S-Stop, Jason, please.... want to cum by your cock, wanna cum with you."   Jason doesn't stop, despite her cries. He's pushing her thighs down, holding her still as he continues to pump his fingers in and out, his tongue is everywhere and she feels so hot, feels as if every part of her body is on fire.  "Jason, Jason,"  (Y/N)'s moans come out like a broken record; only able to play the bit of his name on repeat, only able to speak his name and nothing else. "Jason, baby, oh.... I'm.... I'm going to cum!" And within a matter of seconds, that familiar sensation she had been feeling for the last few minutes in the pit of her stomach finally explodes and she's shooting her orgasm all over his fingers and on his face and... wait, did she- "You squirted, holy shit..." Jason pulls back, laughing as he wipes his face off of with his shirt. "That's a first. Just by my fingers too, fuck, baby girl.... can't even begin to imagine what you can do when I stuff my cock deep inside your cunt."  "Well, don't imagine then and just do it. Fuck me." Jason chuckles as he takes off the rest of his clothes.  Which wasn't much other than his coat and the shirt. (Y/N) giggles, not realizing that was all he had on. Nothing but his trenchcoat and a shirt underneath, his lower half being completely bare.  "What?" He asks, dropping the jacket and his shirt at the end of the bed before he's crawling up and over on (Y/N), wrapping her legs around him as he presses the tip of his cock at her entrance, teasing her for  a second or two.  "Nothing. Just waiting for you."  "Anything for my darling." With this, he presses his cock steadily at her entrance before he's leaning forward, pressing his chest on top of hers, Jason slides his cock deep within her walls at a slow pace before he's fully inside her, his own mouth parting open at the tightness that clenches around him. "Always so tight, (Y/N), fuck." "I'm not going to last long," She answers honestly.   Jason agreed, nodding his head rapidly as he moves, little by little, bit by bit. "Me, either, baby. You feel so good, always fucking so good."   "Jason...." (Y/N) mewls, feeling that sensation clouding over her once more, every thrust he gave sent a wave of electricity to shock her. Her orgasm would be stronger than the one she had a few seconds ago, this much she knew. 

 "Jason, baby, fuck.... you feel so good. Love feeling you inside me," She gasps, her feet were pointed like a dancer's, her toes curling and uncurling. Her pelvis rose from the bed as if seeking something in the air, Jason had to hold her down against the mattress, placing her hands above her head so she could remain still.  "Jason, please, I'm so close, I'm-" He cuts her off by pressing his lips onto hers. "Tell me you love me." He whispers, slowing the movements of his hips.  She laughs, pulling back and presses her face in the crook of his neck, playfully giving him a bite. "You're the one who lit the match and burned me earlier, telling me you hate me.... why should I say it first?" "Cause you and I  damn well know I don't hate you, I could never hate you, darling, so tell me you love me, please."  "I love you, Jason Dean, now cum inside me and fill me up like the desperate, cum slut I am. I wanna feel you."  Jason groans as he presses (Y/N) back against the pillows, leaving one hand off of her arm as he now cups her face, crashing his lips back against hers hungrily. "Cum with me, baby girl, cum with me."  (Y/N) musters a few curse words, letting them fall into Jason's open mouth as they kiss wildly and crazily, the type of kiss you'd only see in pornagraphic movies.   (What they were doing too, obviously, could be in a film as well.)  "I love you, I love you, I love you."  Jason groans and spills his seed, filling  (Y/N) up as he shoots his load deep inside her walls, moaning the same words she just said into the kiss. "Fuckin, goddamn..." He groans, pulling back as he falls next to her. "Never realized you were so naughty."  "Yes you do. That's why you started dating me, why you fell in love with me... shall I continue?"  "Correction: Didn't realize death was such a turn on for you."  "That's fair." (Y/N) answered with a giggle, grabbing Jason and cuddling up into his side, pressing a kiss to his chest.   "I've still got to thank Veronica for being part of this, giving me the roleplay idea and everything."  "Still don't understand why you're best friends with my ex," "She introduced us. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be here; We wouldn't be together." "That's fair." He mocks her words, chuckling as he kisses the top of her head.  "Still, I'd never hurt you. You know this, right?" (Y/N) nods and hums, drawing tiny figures on Jason's chest with the tip of her finger.  "I know. Unless I ask for it." She jokes but she and Jason knew there were truth in her words.  "Filthy thing, you are (Y/N) (L/N)." "Yes.... but you love me, though, Jason Dean." "That I do." "And I love you."  "I love you too... although you fit the label; 'geek in the streets, freak in the sheets'  perfectly." He jokes. 

"Can't believe you squirted still and love being degraded as much as you do,  love being talked like your feelings aren't valuable... never expected this from you, missy."  "Says the one who killed others... you crazed bastard.  I knew what I was getting myself into when I got together with you, J.D. I'm not stupid."   "And see, that's why I love you. You love me and the monsters in my closet."  "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Shut up and kiss me, killer."  "Keep that attitude up and I'm gonna have to kill that pussy of yours." "Do it. I'm ready for a round two." (Y/N) replied with a smirk.  "Just can't get enough of this  cock, can you?" "Nope." "Truly are a cock slut." Jason replied with a 'tsk'  before he grabs (Y/N), placing her on top of him. "Ride me, baby girl. You already know what Daddy likes." "Don't have to tell me twice."

#take a fucking SHOT for how many times you read the word 'cock' #also no #i don't know how to end stories #TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT #UGH #idk if i actually like this or not #i do but i don't #jason dean #heathers #jason dean x reader #jason dean x yn #jean dean x femreader #my works #jason dean smut #jason dean imagines #jason dean fanfics #christian slater #christian slater x reader #christian slater x yn #cierra's stories

[tricktster]

the twilight series suddenly makes 100% more sense if you read them under a specific premise that, i contend, is heavily supported by the text:

Much like Amy’s diary in Gone Girl, the books in the Twilight Saga are verbatim reproductions of in-universe diary entries carefully and deliberately created and curated by badass unreliable narrator Bella Swan as a means to achieve immortality.

Prerequisite assumptions:

1) Bella actively and persistently wants to become a vampire, both diagetically and (I contend) non-diagetically. The average vampire novel format often fails to capture realistic human behavior in one highly specific area: the protagonists are frequently mortals who grapple with the choice of whether to become a vampire. This is stupid, because being a vampire would obviously be dope as hell; particularly in the Twilight Universe, where vampires are not required to take a human life to survive, and indeed, have the capacity to live full and rewarding lives while integrated* into the human community.

(*integrated-ish; see Assumption 6)

2. There are too many coincidences for Bella to have encountered the Cullens by sheer chance, only to be the ONE person that Edward can’t live without (due largely to the novelty factor of not being able to read her ding-dang thoughts.)

3. Diagetically, the Volturi don’t even know Bella’s psyonic gifts until New Moon, but we also know that the Volturi scour the globe for recruits to enlist into the protection of their governing body.

4. Nobody wants to be a voiceless cog in a bureaucracy.

5. Nobody, and especially nobody in high school, wants to be a high school student forever.

6. Vampires in twilight are, as a group, cartoonishly terrible at disguising their true nature.

7. Forks is a backwater town approximately 3.5 hours away from the biotech hub of Seattle.

7. George W. Bush and Dick Cheney can eat my farts and they deserve to be preserved in this snapshot of an innocent author’s mind slowly unraveling.

Proposed timeline:

In 1993, there is a key system meltdown at a improvised biohacking startup in Seattle, rendering all innovative genetic modification experiments into a puddle of brown sludge that nobody can figure out how to dispose of per Federal regs, since they don’t even know what it is.

The broke founder of the startup, who for the purposes of this timeline I will call Jeff Bezos because that’s who it was, eventually grows tired of all the discussion about what to do, and just pops it in a barrel, drives a few hours out of town, and dumps it in a pond.

Bella Swan, a small child, is hanging out at a park with her family friend Jacob Black (and a ton of his friends) when they all decide to wade in a slightly murky pond. Thereafter, they are transformed.

Bella grows up as a normal, highly powerful mutant with a +20 to deception checks and wisdom saves. She lives in Arizona, but up until 2002, summers in Forks. While in Forks, she picks up on the local lore about a family of vampires who don’t eat people.

Because Forks (population: 17 + Charlie’s mustache) is boring, Bella bones up on the only interesting thing about it, i.e. Vampire Hometown baybeeeee.

In 2000, George W. Bush gets elected president, and his evangelical politics and general bumbling ineptitude informs Bella’s opinions on authoritative governmental entities.

In 2001, the Cullens make their intention to move back to Forks known, but they take a while because they need to pack all their stupid graduation hats and volvos, etc.

Later in 2001, a psychic Volturi scout rolls through Forks to ensure that nobody within living memory recalls the Cullens, and notices an anomaly in the psychic field.

The scout goes to confront Bella about joining the Volturi, and Bella immediately clocks him as a vampire, because vampires in the Twilight Universe fucking suck at looking/acting human. This leaves the scout in a bind: she’s too valuable to kill, but she’s a pre-teen, and therefore too young to be transformed per Volturi authority.

The scout warns her he’ll have to kill her if she discusses the existence of vampires with any human. He then tells her he’ll be back in five years, and begins to sweet talk her on how good life will be when she’s a vampire, beautiful, immortal, powerful, etc. Bella asks if she has to kill, and dude says “nah, actually there’s a bunch of vegetarian vampires who are moving back here soon. Fucking nerds, but otherwise they’re doing well.” Bella is all about becoming a vampire, because Bella is a rational actor.

Bella moves to Arizona, and as the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq are unjustifiedly initiated, she recognizes that while she DOES want to be a vampire, she does NOT want to be a foot soldier in any war that she can’t support. She needs a plan.

In 2004, Bella is watching her step-dad’s minor league baseball game when it occurs to her. On her own, she’s a target for the Volturi, but if she had some people to watch her back, she might be okay. Of course, nobody fucks with the Volturi on behalf of some rando human. She’ll need to con her way into a coven who’ll have her back and also give her that +10 to constitution via vampiric transformation, which she desperately wants because she’s a rational actor. And where are the non-volturi vampires that might have her back? Fucking Forks.

Bella moves to Forks in 2004, and upon seeing the Cullens, she immediately clocks them as vampires even though they left their “we’re all vampires” booty shorts at home, because, as previously discussed, vampires in the Twilight Universe fucking suck at looking/acting human.

Bella notes that all the vampires but one are paired off in heterosexual bliss, and takes note of the straggler as a potential vehicle to vampyrdom.

Bella figures out that Eddie can read everyone’s mind but hers, because Edward Cullen fucking sucks at looking/acting like a human who can’t read minds. Bella further observes that Eddie has a huge undead boner for her.

She’s found her mark. Now she just needs to convince him that she’s better off as part of the coven than on her own. Problem: Eddie’s a self-pitying insufferably guilt-striken perpetual adolescent who keeps himself busy by feeling sorry for himself because he’s a vampire, angst angst angst etc etc. Also, I think he’s Catholic, so add some more guilt in. She’ll have to win him over by convincing him that they’re destined to be soulmates.

What does a vampire used to having complete insight into everyone’s mind but his crush’s want? A method to know what she really thinks of him. Bella begins writing a “diary” knowing that there’s no way in hell Eddie won’t sneak in and read it. So she Gone Girls it, and begins to lay a trap to lure him in. That first diary? Twilight.

This was just in the movie but a stoner chases her around with a worm on a stick. Nothing to do with this theory, I just like that part of the movie. Where’s my spinoff about that guy?

Eddie won’t give Bella what she wants (eternal life) by the end of book 1, even though she asks him to EXTREMELY POLITELY. Time to hit the diary with some more promises of undying love.

Bella reconnects with her old friend Jacob and the rest of the Mutated By Jeff Bezos Boys. Alas, they cannot turn her into a physically powerful sexy immortal with a bite, so she’s still stuck with plan A) win over a whole family of vampires with big Mormon energy. It’s the long con.

Edward’s angst abruptly takes a swing towards terminal. He’s absolutely your classic sadboy, perhaps because Bella now has one (1) friend that he knows about.

When Eddie begins to drift away on account of Angst, Bella conjurs up a secondary love interest who, coincidentally, is ALSO a sexy supernatural entity, and is much less coincidentally just Jacob.

We should establish here that Edward is like a 107 year old white dude and so even though Diary!Bella pretends not to see it, Metatextual Frame Story!Bella knows that dude is super racist.

Jacob Black is three things: 1. Like Bella, a mutant (although one with shapeshifting abilities), 2.one of Bella’s oldest and most trusted confidants, and 3. down to clown on an elderly teenage vampire who keeps stereotyping him. Sure, says Jacob, I’ll take the form of a werewolf. He seriously thinks we’re all just beastmen, huh? Hey look at me now, I’m Regis Philbin because this is 2005 and Who Wants to be a Millionaire is still sort of relevant. Sick.

Edward does not like that Bella has one (1) other friend. Bella and Jacob plot to use this to their advantage and lure Edward back on the wings of jealousy.

Eddie gets himself into trouble on account of Angst and poor communication, so Bella has to go rescue him from himself/the Volturi.

Aro finally meets her and gets to test her powers, which impress him. Now she’s back on the fucking radar.

I forget everything that happens in Eclipse, so i have chosen to omit that part.

Eventually she extracts a quid pro quo from Eddie; i’ll marry you if you turn me into a dracula.

We don’t really call ourselves that, Wet Blanket Cullen replies, entirely earnestly.

Bella gets married at 18 in 2006, and Eddie starts to backtrack his promise about changing her. This won’t stand.

Well, look, he’s an elderly guilty catholic/mormon teen who probably still uses super racist terms, but she’s stuck on honeymoon island, he has certain angles that work for him, and seriously what are they gonna do but fuck? Bella’s alternative is listening to her “husband” drone on about his interests, which are almost certainly Car, How Do I Post a Minion Picture on Facebook, and Licorice Used To Be a Lot Cheaper in the Good Old Days.

Whoops a fetus.

Bella recognizes that she’s GOT to have this baby: time’s running out, and Bella knows that at least two of the Vamps in her coven will cut ties if she terminates or otherwise fails to carry this baby to term because of the conservative religious subtext. She’s going to have to stick it out for 9 months, even though it’s a risky call.

Bella gets what she wants after giving birth. “My time as a human is over, but I've never felt more alive. I was born to be a vampire.” That’s a direct quote. Except now she’s got a (pretty cute and easy) baby that she desperately wants to protect from Turning Into A Vaguely Religious Cullen Dressed Head To Toe In Cream Colored Wool.

Bella decides to fake her own death and escape with the kid and Jake so they can form i guess a detective agency. Bella will get “killed” by the Volturi, move to Sydney, and open up shop, and Jake will take the kid after her a few months later.

They’re gonna need a reason why Jake gets the kid though, and there’s only one reason to do anything amongst the Cullens: a heterosexual love interest with a super problematic age gap.

Jesus, Jake sighs, is Eddie really going to believe I’m in romantic love with your actual infant? Does he really think that little of me?

Yup.

Bella tries to draw the Volturi’s attention.

Works too well.

The Cullens call up all their vague acquaintances, who are at least kind of fun. Particularly that one dude who keeps getting angry about British conduct during the American Revolution.

Well, fuck, now the Volturi are bringing an army to fight their ragtag army of Vampires Who Are Cool And Interesting Enough That We Can Safely Presume They Are All Definitely Gay. Bella can’t let those guys die, they’re the first actually compelling vampires she’s ever talked to.

Bella saves the day because she’s OP.

All the Cool Vamps start packing up to leave and Bellz almost goes with them, but the Cullens would just keep sending missionaries after her if they knew.

Bella finishes her fourth journal with the vague warning that the Volturi are still out there somewhere and they miiiight just try and get her.

Two days later, she stages a scuffle and gets the fork out of Fucks. Her journals are the only clue.

Sirius Black and baby nessie follow once edward has stopped sobbing into his cream colored sweater and moved on to Extended Power Pouting.

Bella recruits her own army of fledglings.

Bella stages a coup against the Volturi and succeeds.

Bella sits on the iron throne with a hot lady vampire on each knee and they all kiss and stuff.

Nessie I guess forms a post punk band?

Edward dies from aspiration of a brussel sprout that he ate because he just wanted to feel something.

Charlie and Billy get married.

Charlie’s mustache develops a cult instagram following, providing them with a modest retirement income.

Jacob shapeshifts into Bill Murray and is always crashing weddings.

Bella’s stepdad is off in the B plot this whole time winning the world series with the help of a kooky angel.

There. Fixed. My soul is at rest.

[juniorgman187]

Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments. 

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events. 

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt. 

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it. 

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate. 

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend. 

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts. 

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me. 

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong. 

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point. 

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun. 

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.” 

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us. 

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room. 

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug. 

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself. 

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?” 

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.” 

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery. 

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me. 

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction. 

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime. 

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today 

Grant: don’t need to. 

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me. 

“Who keeps texting you?” 

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business. 

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.  

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!” 

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it. 

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it. 

“No one.” 

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going. 

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me. 

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously. 

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet. 

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing. 

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?” 

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?” 

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.” 

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’” 

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade. 

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. 

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.” 

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid. 

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him. 

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub. 

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance. 

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly. 

“No, sir.” 

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me. 

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him. 

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field. 

“You are not going in without a gun,”  Reid ordered. 

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again. 

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in. 

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me. 

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling. 

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?” 

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more. 

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?” 

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”  

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return. 

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent. 

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out. 

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.” 

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red. 

This war was far from over. 

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good. 

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them. 

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing. 

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly. 

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.” 

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied. 

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.” 

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked. 

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all. 

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.” 

What you feel. 

I clung onto those words. 

What was I really feeling? 

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me? 

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me. 

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast. 

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me. 

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely. 

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added. 

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier. 

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked. 

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer. 

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence. 

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too. 

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _ 

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation. 

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way. 

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual. 

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?” 

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew. 

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.  

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken. 

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat. 

“A dating app, actually.” 

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this. 

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?” 

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.” 

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.” 

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now. 

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung. 

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed. 

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice. 

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though. 

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.” 

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed. 

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?” 

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling. 

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead. 

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face. 

He felt sorry for me. 

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book. 

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field. 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.” 

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.” 

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.” 

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words. 

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t. 

But I should’ve. 

_ _ _ 

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being. 

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end. 

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat. 

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would. 

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative. 

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?” 

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it. 

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction. 

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it. 

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.” 

_  _ _ 

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however. 

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it. 

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this. 

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were. 

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now? 

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me. 

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic 

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them. 

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones. 

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head. 

You deserve more than that. Much more. 

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said. 

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened. 

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see. 

“I asked you first.” 

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.” 

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before. 

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know. 

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me. 

“What? What is it?” I urged. 

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?” 

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth. 

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?” 

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.” 

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?” 

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was. 

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.” 

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second. 

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed. 

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that. 

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize. 

That never came. 

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust. 

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments. 

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness. 

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.” 

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).” 

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either. 

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up. 

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too. 

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I. 

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well. 

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field. 

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room. 

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon. 

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?” 

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet. 

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer. 

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it. 

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.” 

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?” 

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart. 

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat. 

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.” 

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here. 

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?” 

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes. 

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least. 

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity. 

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though. 

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something. 

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.” 

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar. 

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me. 

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me. 

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again. 

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again. 

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.” 

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image. 

“Always, trouble.” 

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know. 

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help. 

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.” 

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation. 

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her. 

_ _ _ 

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left. 

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied. 

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety. 

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D. 

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful. 

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright. 

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened. 

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?” 

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?” 

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.” 

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before. 

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?” 

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before. 

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit. 

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority. 

She was my priority. 

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear. 

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver. 

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms. 

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand. 

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms. 

She was so cold. 

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute. 

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again. 

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all. 

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.” 

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car. 

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way. 

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly. 

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible. 

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there. 

I need to be somewhere I feel safe. 

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _ 

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself. 

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize. 

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever. 

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?” 

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly. 

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?” 

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.” 

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.” 

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too. 

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that. 

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind. 

“You’re smart. Figure it out.” 

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence. 

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?” 

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?” 

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point? 

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt. 

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?” 

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth. 

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’ 

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never. 

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him. 

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything. 

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us. 

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet. 

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting. 

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

complete taglist: @muffin-cup @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler  @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person @masumiyetimziyanoldu @dreamer-writer-fangirl @kalamitykait @jinxy175 @apolloroid 

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#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid kiss #fighting fire with fire #juniorgman187 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[theasstour]

𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟕.𝟕𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚

Tuesday, 13 December 2017

Tooley Street was always busy, whether there were a horde of people walking to and from the riverside and underground, or cars driving by at a ridiculous speed. London Bridge station on the other side of the road to where Y/N and the gang sat at Caffé Nero, looked like a small insect in comparison to The Shard that reached like a pillar above the partly cloudy winter sky. The blue painted brick building beside it, The Shipwright Arms pub, was a lively addition to an otherwise very bleak street.

The winter wind by the riverside was horrendous, but Y/N had offered to come with Annalise on her cigarette break, so she had only herself to blame for exposing herself to more of the biting cold than completely necessary. From where the two were sitting, they could just make out Tower Bridge behind them, bare trees rising up along the streets that indicated summer was long gone and winter had arrived.

Y/N had spent a lot of time just sitting outside the last few days. Whether it was on a bench by Regent’s Canal, in the grass at Shoreditch Park, or at a table outside a café with a coffee in hand. She had just been sitting there, staring out at nothing. Thinking. All she had been doing since finding that watch was think.

She had tried to find some kind of logical explanation as to why that watch had the coordinates for her family’s Newport cabin, but there was none. What kind of connection did George have to Newport? To that cabin? Had he just fucked her and left it there because he knew who Y/N’s sister was? And where was George now? She had not seen him since that night in October, was he still around? Or had Y/N just missed him when he had been, and this had all just been a huge coincidence. But Y/N somehow knew, deep down, that this was far from a coincidence and she should not treat it as one.

“You have to come to Monnickendam,” Annalise said, blowing out a puff of white smoke.

Y/N looked away from a man across the street who was arguing passionately with someone on his phone. Shoving the thoughts of the watch that was laid on her desk in her room, out of her head. She had not told anyone about it, this was not something she wanted everyone to know about because she had no idea what it meant. The only person that knew was Harry, and she would like to keep it that way.

“I’ve never been to the Netherlands,” Y/N said.

“Even more of a reason to come.”

Y/N smiled. “Buzzing. I haven’t travelled much in Europe, mostly been to Brazil with my family.”

“When you come to Monnickendam, we have to take the train to, like, Germany or France. Andorra is also so beautiful, I think you’re gonna love it.”

“Make a roadtrip out of it.”

“Exactly.”

Y/N’s smile grew. “Had you been to London before you came here for school?”

Annalise brought the cigarette up to her mouth. “Loads of times.”

“Really?”

“Yes, we went here around Easter in 2012 the first time, and I fell in love. Went here four more times, then to an Open Day last year.”

Y/N nodded. “Was Helmond your first choice then? Did you like it the best?”

“No, Battersea was, but I’m happy I ended up at Helmond.” Annalise breathed out white vapour. “Helmond’s prettier.”

Y/N laughed. “The aesthetic is more important than the uni itself, innit? If you can’t take decent Instagram pictures there, what’s the point of spending the next three years at that place?”

Annalise laughed along with Y/N, taking a last drag. “I rarely use Instagram.”

“I used to. I loved to like document my life, to let all my friends and family know what I was doing at all times. But then I found Snapchat, and it’s just better.”

“You know that if you, like, save a picture or video in the Snapchat app, Snapchat owns it?”

Y/N blinked.

“At least what someone at home told me once.”

“Doesn’t Instagram do the same?” Y/N asked.

“Think so,” Annalise said, walking over to the litter and stumping her cigarette out in the ash tray on top of it. “Ground rule: don’t save anything onto social media. Anyone can save and see your pictures.”

“Basically,” Y/N mumbled, looking over at the man she had watched earlier. He was still arguing with someone over the phone.

“Ready to head back inside?” Annalise asked.

“Yeah.” Y/N got up and the two strolled back over to the Caffé Nero their three other mates were sat in. Thian, Hayden, and Chloe were all sat with their laptops in front of them and books in the centre of the table behind their screens. Chloe was talking animatedly as Y/N and Annalise approached, Hayden busy with something on the laptop in front of them while Thian sat with a book in his hands, looking at Chloe as she spoke. Y/N took off her puffer jacket, hanging it off the back of her chair as she sat down, adjusting her black V-neck jumper and loose denim jeans.

“…the problem isn’t that. The problem is the fact that they never clean up after themselves. That’s the problem,” Chloe said, groaning loudly. “And when I ask in the flat groupchat if anyone wanna be social, no one answers. I swear, all of them hate me.”

“Maybe they’re just busy,” Thian suggested.

“They always say that, but I know two of the boys are in Dave’s room playing something on that PlayStation.” Chloe crossed her arms over her chest. “Should I learn how to play FIFA?”

“You don’t have to impress them,” Y/N said, turning her laptop back on to finish the essay for Critical Reading that was due that Friday.

“No, I know. But if I want to hang out with anyone in my flat, I gotta do something. What games do you play in the PlayStation, Thian?”

Thian stared at Chloe for a second, mouth working before he mumbled, “I didn’t bring one to uni.”

“Alright, then what did you play at home?”

“Call of Duty.”

Chloe scrunched up her nose. “Isn’t that a war game?”

“Yeah.”

“Nah, I’m not into that.” Chloe grimaced, looking at something further away. “I’ve never really played PlayStation. One of the blokes I dated in college gamed a lot, but I couldn’t be asked to sit around and just watch.”

“The three in my flat play GTA,” Y/N said. “At least that’s what Nathan wants to play, Harry and Mason just go along.”

Chloe’s face instantly lit up. “Oh, my word, Y/N. You have to make Harry teach me how to play something on the PlayStation.”

There was a slight pang in Y/N’s chest at the sound of his name leaving Chloe’s lips in that way. Y/N opened, then closed her mouth, then opened it again. “I don’t really hang out with them when they play it. I’ve had so much to do these past months.”

“That’s fine, Nathan can keep us company,” Chloe said, leaning back in her seat. “Make Mason come, too. God-“ She grinned, letting her head fall between her shoulder blades. “-Your flatmates are fit.”

“Harry’s fitter than Mason,” Hayden chimed in.

“No, definitely Mason,” Annalise said.

“I can’t choose. Depends on my mood,” Chloe mused.

Thian kept quiet, staring pointedly at his laptop.

“Can you do it? Make them teach me?” Chloe begged, sticking her bottom lip out at Y/N.

Y/N took a deep breath. “I’ll try.”

Chloe grinned.

“They might be busy, too. Might not get to it till after Christmas break.”

Chloe waved her hand. “That’s fine. I just want to hang out with someone from my flat eventually.”

Y/N glanced down at her laptop again, trying to forget the conversation she had just had with the other three. Chloe continued chattering on about something of no significance, Y/N did not care to listen as she wanted to finish her essay before she had to leave for home coming Saturday. Though her coffee was cold now as she took a sip of it, Y/N still appreciated the taste of caffeine. It woke her up, made her more alert and focused.

Ever since she was seven years old, her papai had made her coffee to drink. He always said “coffee is as vital to a Brazilian’s existence as tea is to a Brit’s” and she had drunk it ever since. She loved the taste of it much more than tea, but seeing as tea was much easier to make, she had come to resort to it here in London. Home in Nottingham, there was always a brew in the making or one ready for whoever felt like having a cup, made with a proper coffee machine that Davi had invested proper money in. He had bought it back in 2001, and it worked just as well as it did back then. Y/N, like her papai, loved the coffee from that old coffee maker more than anything else. She could not wait until she was home with her parents so she could drink proper coffee all the time without going to the nearest coffee shop to do so. The instant coffee Nathan often made smelled and tasted rank, Y/N would have no other coffee than her papai’s and a cup made at a coffee shop.

“I’m gonna go buy a muff,” Hayden said, getting up from their chair. “This essay is doing my head in, I need something to sooth the pain.”

“Oh, could you buy me a scone?” Thian asked, putting his hands together as if he was begging on his knees. “I’ll pay with five stellar knock knock jokes.”

“Make it six.”

“Deal.”

The two shook hands and Hayden grinned as they looked at the other three. “Anything from the trolley, dears?”

Y/N and Annalise chuckled. “No thanks,” Y/N said, Annalise saying the same thing.

“No, I’ll just add to this,” Chloe said, patting at her stomach.

“Add to what?” Hayden asked.

“A belly.” Chloe gripped the little that was protruding from her tight denim jeans. “I’m trying to start working out for bikini season, to remove that extra uni weight, you know?”

Hayden looked absolutely lost, so did Thian, and Annalise looked to not be paying any attention at all. Y/N, however, felt a familiar pang in her chest. It was a small explosion she had felt before, one that would taint the rest of her day. Instinctively, she put her scarf around her chest, letting it fall over her stomach.

Hayden did not comment, instead they just walked up to the till, ready to tell the lady working there their order. The table fell silent, but not for the reason Y/N wanted it to. No, they were all just busy with their essays. Y/N knew that it would be impossible for her to concentrate on the assignment now that the only thing she would be thinking about for the rest of the day was Chloe’s comment. Chancing a look over at her friend, she saw her flicking through a book in her lap, completely unbothered, Annalise was cocking her head to the side as she wrote something on her Mac, while Thian was watching Hayden pay for their food. None of them had batted an eyelash. Which was nothing new, Y/N was used to no one picking up on covered up fatphobic comments.

She knew that Chloe had not said those things with her in mind, that the statement had been about her own body only. But Y/N could not help but feel the comment in her very soul. She could remember her mates from school in Nottingham making comments similar to that one, so hearing it wasn’t alien, but it stung as much as hearing it that first time.

“Here we go,” Hayden said, putting the scone down on Thian’s keyboard.

“Scones are so bloody good,” Thian moaned, taking a huge bite out of his. “If we had to fuck a food, I’d fuck scones.”

The table went quiet, all looking at Thian. He just continued on eating, humming some Alesso and Conor Maynard song that was always playing on the radio.

“Why did you just say that?” Hayden asked.

“Felt like sharing my thoughts with the class.”

Hayden raised their eyebrows before looking at the laptop in front of them. “The class did not need to know.”

Thian shrugged his shoulders and Annalise laughed, Chloe joining in after a little while. Y/N smiled at them, but her thoughts still drifted back to Chloe’s comments just a minute earlier. She spread her scarf out over her stomach, wishing she had worn something that wasn’t so tight fitted.

Friday, 15 December 2017

“Sorry we’re late,” Mason said as him and the rest of the rugby team streamed into the seminar room. Hayden, Y/N, Thian, Chloe, Annalise, Nathan, and Annalise’s two friends were all sat around one table, already having started a round of Uno.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hayden smiled. “I’ve put Uno decks on the other tables.”

“Cheers.”

Mason and the rest of the team sat down, all chatting amongst themselves and letting go of heavy sighs as they took their seats. It was clear that the last training session for the team this year had not only been cold, but also immensely tiring. They all looked very ready to travel home for Christmas break, and it looked like a few already had.

Y/N felt their struggle with the cold. She herself was wearing a mini linen skater dress in black. The skirt was loose, making it comfortable to hide her belly in – she had not stopped thinking about Chloe’s comment all week, but it would not stop her from looking really fucking good – and the waist was open, baring some of her skin and rib tattoo to everyone. Her skin protruded around the straps that were wrapped around her waist, connecting her skirt from her top, but there was nothing she could do about it, so she just tried to stay out of Chloe’s vision. The plunge neck revealed a very deep cleavage and skin, making it so Y/N had put on two silver necklaces to top of the outfit. The rest of the top had long sleeves and a nice collar, which was why Y/N had bought the dress. It was slutty, but in a modest way.

The rest of the gang around the table had also dressed up, ready to go out after this. They all had their last lecture of the semester today, meaning that their Christmas break had just started, and they wanted to celebrate before everyone travelled to their separate locations the next day. Chloe to Oxford, Thian to Bristol, Hayden to Sheffield, Annalise to Monnickendam, and Y/N back home to Nottingham. It would be weird not to meet up with them, to not go to lectures and stress about assignments for the next month. Then again, Annalise had made a Snapchat and Messenger group to ensure that the gang would talk every single day. And knowing her mates, Y/N was sure they would.

During a break between rounds, Y/N got up from their table after making sure that her polyamide shorts underneath her dress didn’t roll down her stomach. She wore them to prevent chafing, knowing that if she did not wear them underneath her skirt, it would be hard for her to wear anything the next day. She did the zip of her chunky sock boots before making her way over to Mason’s table.

“Alright, Y/N?” Mason said as she came closer, giving her a small smile.

“How’re you lot finding the society?” she asked, looking around the table, meeting Kai’s eyes.

Kai beamed. “Good, it’s nice to spend some time with the whole team off the rugby pitch.”

“You’re dressed up,” Mason pointed out. “What’s the occasion?”

“Uno Society.”

Mason smiled. “Trying to pull some rugby players, are ya?”

“No. No, rugby players.”

Mason only raised his eyebrows as if he didn’t believe her, smile widening.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re just as unbearable as Harry sometimes.”

“Nah, Harry’s worse than me.”

“Right.” Y/N took a big breath. “Chloe over there, the blonde,” Y/N said, motioning behind her with a nod of her head. Mason’s gaze immediately fell on Chloe. “She’s wondering if you and Harry can teach her how to play the PlayStation.”

Mason blinked, looking over at Kai as the bigger man clapped his hands together before laughing.

“Is that funny?” Y/N asked.

“No, it’s not. I just knew Kai would react like that,” Mason said. “But I’ll do it. After Christmas at some point.”

“Nice, I’ll tell her that, then.”

“Why does she need someone to teach her how to play PlayStation?” Kai asked, and though there was laughter in his voice, Y/N could tell his question was sincere.

“Some blokes in her flat never want to be social, they just stay in this one room playing PlayStation, and she’s kinda left out ‘cause she doesn’t really know how to play.”

“That might not work out,” Kai said, smiling still.

“Worth a shot, either way.”

“Maybe she just wanna spend time with this hunk,” Kai grinned, putting a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “Or the other hunk that’s not here.”

“Speaking of him,” Y/N said, putting a hand on her hip. “Not that I care, but where is he?”

Kai grinned, sitting back in his chair. “You don’t care? Not at all?”

“No, Y/N doesn’t like Harry much,” Mason explained, completely unbothered. “He’s working. The team’s popping by The Stag’s Head later to check on him since it’s his last shift and all that.”

Y/N nodded, suddenly remembering how Harry had told her that a few weeks ago.

“What’s the bellend done to you?” Kai asked.

“Another time, Kai. We’re in the middle of a round,” Mason said. “I’ll find a day that’s good for Chloe to come over.”

“Wicked,” Y/N smiled. “See ya.”

“Later, mate.”

Y/N walked back to her table, sitting down in her seat again. “Sorry,” she said when Hayden gave her a look. “Chloe, Mason said he could teach you how to play PlayStation sometime after Christmas break.”

Chloe squealed. “Really?!”

“Yeah, he’ll text me saying when.”

“Ahh! Buzzing!”

Y/N gave her a smile before the gang went back to playing.

Though she was physically present over the next hour or so, Y/N’s mind travelled back to the flat and the watch on her desk. Besides assignments, Christmas, and what Chloe said on Tuesday, that was all Y/N had spent her time thinking about. She would be in bed, about to go to sleep, then just get out of her bed and look at the watch, study it carefully. Maybe there was another message of sorts on it, maybe she was supposed to do something with it. But other days she did not want to touch that watch. There was something about it, something about how it had just been left in her possession so casually, something about the fact that she had not seen George since that night, that did not sit right with Y/N at all.

Throughout the rest of the night, after the Uno Society, while the gang was sat at a pub, and then dancing at a club later, Y/N could not bring herself to enjoy herself thoroughly. All her energy went back to that watch. She wanted to understand what it meant, why George had it, and what she was supposed to do with the information. Was she even supposed to do anything at all? It only made her want to travel down to Newport even more. She had to now. Her parents might think about getting rid of that cabin, but Y/N had to revisit it one last time before that happened.

Y/N did not drink that night; she was afraid of the conspiracy theories she would form if she did. She had one cocktail at the pub they went to, but could not do more than that, and her mates did not ask questions as to why she was not drinking, something she really appreciated. It was late when she announced she would be going home, and so she called Nathan and made him stay on the line with her as she took the tube back to Haggerston Station. Once she reached Orsman Road, she could hear his snores on the other end, and hung up halfway down the road to the flat. However, in the distance, she saw a stag’s head sign hanging out on a metal pole, protruding from the building opposite her flat building. She suddenly remembered what Mason said, and crossed the road, making her way over to the pub.

A small group of lads made their way out of the pub as Y/N reached it, the last one holding the door for her. She smiled and thanked him before walking inside. Now that she wasn’t affected by alcohol, Y/N was finally able to take in the pub properly without having the slight haze of alcohol taint it. The lights were comfortably dimmed, not too much so you could not read the menu, but just enough so that a person’s facial features would be a tad blurry. The red that ran along the wall behind the dark bar counter was subtle, giving the bar a sense of holding onto the secrets of each person who walked through the front doors, like a Victorian murder mystery. Y/N could see Sweeney Todd’s barber shop trapped in the same colours.

“Excuse me, miss,” a man walking out from behind the counter said, grey hair and broad shoulders. “We’re closed.”

“Oh,” she said, looking around the dark pub. “I… I thought I might find Harry here.”

The man narrowed his eyes a little. “He’s got a new girlfriend? So soon after the other ones?”

Y/N felt herself narrow her eyes back at the man. Girlfriend? Harry’s had girlfriends – plural – since he started working in The Stag’s Head? There was a very strange combination of a lot of different feelings that swarmed around Y/N’s body, suddenly making her feel seasick. She was about to abort her mission, to say she would just catch Harry at home, when there came a voice from the door leading out into the smoking area.

“Y/N,” Harry said, turning the lights off outside and closing the door. It looked as if he could not quite believe his eyes as he saw her standing there, like he had not thought she would ever show up to his work like this. Without seemingly able to help himself, his green eyes fell down to her green dress and her exposed legs. He quickly looked to his other co-worker, clearing his throat as he walked behind the pub counter. Y/N could swear she saw a slight pink hue to his cheekbones.

“I’ll leave if you’re busy.”

“No,” Harry said, the word coming out a little too quickly as if desperation got the better of him. “No. Not busy.”

The grey-haired man raised his eyebrows at Harry. He must have seen something in Harry’s demeanour, because he said, “You’ll be alright to close up on your own?”

Harry smiled. “It’ll be a nice way to end my time at Stag’s Head.”

“Nice,” the man Y/N now suspected was Harry’s boss, said. “Pop by with the keys tomorrow, will ya?”

“Yes, sir.”

The man gave both Harry and Y/N a smile each before he started on his walk up to his office. The pub was suddenly very quiet, not a single sound came from inside, just the distant siren outside and the low buzz of the city. A place that was usually bustling with noise, energy, and anticipation, was now left with the latter. Y/N looked around the place, unsure of what to do with herself now that it was only her and Harry there. Harry watched her, picking up the Cif spray from where it stood under the counter. She felt his gaze on her as she walked along the booths, touching the red velvet cushions, a rush of goosebumps travelling up her spine at the knowledge that she had his full attention.

She turned around, leaning her bum against a table as she took in the liquor behind Harry. He was washing the counter, looking over at Y/N again, eyes falling to her mid-area that was expanded slightly at the pressure the surface behind her was providing. He quickly looked away again, biting his lips together as he focused on the counter in front of him. Y/N could not help a small smile.

“What made you show up to my work, then?” he asked.

“Can’t a friend show up to another friend’s work?”

Harry let out a strangled chuckle. “Alright. That’s very nice of you, but I don’t buy that for a single second.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “You don’t?”

“There’s gotta have been another reason as to why.”

“Okay…? What’s that?”

Harry shrugged his shoulder, spraying more Cif onto the counter. “You were bored. You didn’t want to be around your other mates any longer. You wanted to see a delicious man with an irresistible Northern accent clean up a pub since it’s his last shift ever here tonight.”

Y/N let out a laugh, placing her hands on either side of the table beside her. “None of the above.”

“Alright,” Harry said, coming out from behind the pub. “What didn’t I cover?”

“You weren’t at the Uno Society meeting.”

The answer came so effortlessly, as if her subconscious had been holding onto the answer for Y/N until she was strong enough to know the real reason. Her hands instantly gripped the table harder, feeling embarrassed for admitting vulnerability so easily. She blamed how easy it was to talk to him, how he just seemed to throw a lasso around her deepest secrets, her most private desires, and drag them out of her.

Harry looked over at her from where he was cleaning the tables a bit further away in the pub. “Had work. Would’ve been there if I didn’t have to be here.”

She nodded, looking down at her black boots. For some reason, his words warmed something inside her. Hearing someone care about something she cared about made her feel special. Then again, someone she just met on the street could tell her they hated Marmite, something Y/N also did, and she would feel equally as fuzzy inside. Finding small bonds, small preferences, small somethings that connected you to other people, made you feel like you weren’t alone, but it also made you feel special, made you feel seen and understood. It was as if someone opened a door into their soul, and giving you a warm handshake, welcoming you into them and their life.

“The lads had a blast,” Harry said, now closer to Y/N as she had zoned out for a minute and some.

“They did?”

“Yeah, it’s nice to just sit down and relax like that. We don’t really get to do that.”

Y/N watched as Harry hovered by a table, leaning over it to clean it. His black tee shirt stretched over his broad back, his shoulder blades visibly working as he ran the cloth over the table in front of him. The outline of his muscles, the way they were so hard against the soft fabric of the tee shirt, made Y/N’s body feel very hot all of a sudden. He worked so carefully, sliding his hand holding the cloth so slowly over the table, paying it his undivided attention. She adjusted her position against her table, looking away from Harry as he stood back up, his black trousers that had been tight around his buttocks, slacking at the lack of pressure on the material. Get a fucking grip, Y/N screamed at herself in her head, focusing on the wall in front of her. She saw Harry look at her over his shoulder, gaze lingering on her for a few seconds. Y/N suddenly found it very hard to draw a proper breath.

“You’re mad I didn’t show up?” Harry asked.

Y/N was silent, her brain completely blank. “Didn’t show up…?”

She could see his smug smile in her peripheral vision. “Yeah.”

“To what?”

His smile widened and he focused on a table closer to her. “The Uno Society.”

She closed her eyes. Her checking out Harry while he had his back to her had not just made her forget the whole reason why she had showed up to The Stag’s Head in the first place. His body looking the way it did, him caring about the society, him teasing her to get a reaction out of her… Why the fuck did he have that effect on her?

“No,” Y/N said, refusing to look at him still. “I’m not mad.”

“Then why won’t you look at me right now?”

Y/N could feel her hands instinctively grabbing harder onto the table behind her. “No reason.”

“You know,” Harry started, she could hear the smirk in his voice. “You can try all you want, but I still know you.”

She huffed. “You wish.”

“I don’t gotta,” he said, chuckling a little. “Don’t gotta wish when I already do know you. Wish I knew you better, wish you’d just open up to me like you did so easily before, but that’s for a later time.”

That made her look over at Harry, her eyebrows drawn together as she just watched him clean yet another table. He… Did he really think she would one day open up to him again and they would go back to being friends like they used to? Was he really that optimistic? Had he thought about it? About them and their friendship? And what a future with her alongside him at uni would look like? Her eyes landed on his bicep as it flexed, holding his body weight as he leaned against the table again. Her gaze following his arm all the way down to his hand, long slender fingers wrapped around the edge of the table, and the thick veins over the dorsal part of his hand made something in Y/N’s brain short circuit. That along with the casual way he was leaning his hips against the table, staring down at it with his head cocked.

What the fuck, Y/N said to herself again, looking away from him. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck?! How was she supposed to stay neutral, to not find him attractive, to not want to sink right back into old habits when she allowed herself to study him and look at him like that. She had to stop. This was getting out of hand.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet tonight,” Harry said, working slowly as he cleaned up the table in the booth beside the one she was stood leaning against.

“No, I’ve just got things on my mind.”

“What things?”

Your broad shoulders. Your hands. The way you stick your tongue out of your mouth when you are concentrating. But Y/N said none of those things, as doing so would sentence her to a lifetime of humiliation.

“Insignificant things.”

“When they’re taking up a lot of space in your head and preventing you from being present, they’re not insignificant,” Harry said, sounding a little serious all of a sudden. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, there’s nothing inherently bad on my mind, just… I’ve got a lot of… thoughts,” Y/N said, not knowing how else to explain it without giving something away.

“What thoughts?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “Thought you did Architectural Studies, didn’t know you also had a degree in being Nosy.”

Harry let out a laugh, coming to stand in front of her with the spray and the cloth in his hands. “I’m very nosy.”

“Glad to hear you’re self-aware.”

“But right now I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Bloody hell, Y/N thought, could he just fucking stop being so nice? So fucking adorable? And fit? It made hating him so much harder than it already was.

“I’m okay.”

He took a step closer. “What’s been on your mind then?”

“Just… life.”

“Has uni exhausted you?”

“Yeah, but it’s not what I’m thinking about.”

Harry took another step closer. Y/N’s palms were suddenly very clammy.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked again, a small smile on his lips as if he was challenging her.

“Maybe you just have to face the fact that I won’t tell you and you can’t figure it out on your own.”

“Nah,” Harry said. “I’ll figure you out.”

Y/N watched as Harry took another step closer, her heart suddenly beating very fast inside her chest.

“I just gotta…” He trailed off, now standing directly in front of her. Tip of his shoes against the tip of hers. Without a warning of sorts, he leaned closer, bending over her until his head hovered beside her own. Chest wavering above hers, touching as she drew in a precipitous breath and he did the same. Their bodies did not brush against one another again, an invisible, burning shield was built to keep them apart the second their upper bodies made contact. As if the universe was telling them that by touching like that, the world would go up in total flames around them.

Harry’s sudden closeness made her breathe in a little too harshly, she was sure he must have heard it but she simply did not care. The reaction her body was having to him being so close was electric, it made all the hairs on her body stand on end. She didn’t know what he was doing that close to her, thinking at first that he must have wanted to whisper something in her ear, to say something to her that would undoubtedly make her glad she was leaning against something solid for support.

But she heard the familiar sound of the Cif spray, and a second later, Harry reached his cloth behind Y/N’s back, cleaning the table. She felt his breath against her neck, triggering something radioactive inside her. The oud aroma of his cologne, with notes of cedar, patchouli, and spicy saffron filled Y/N’s nostrils. In those seconds when Harry hovered above her like that, his warm body inches from hers, breath fanning against her skin, his aroma, and aura mere inches from hers, Y/N was conflicted as to if she wanted time to speed up or slow down some more. She knew that if she stayed like that, with Harry so close to her, for much longer she would go absolutely mad and have an impossible time resisting him if he were to try something like he had done in the living room the week before.

No sooner had she thought that, he pushed off, face lingering just centimetres from hers. “I just need to take a look,” he said, speaking as if he did not mind if the whole world was watching them. He raised his hand, about to touch her chin. For what reason, Y/N did not know, but she didn’t ask any questions. However, he stopped, as if touching her was something he could not do. Y/N was glad he hadn’t, because God knows how her body would have reacted had he tenderly touched her jawline like it looked like he wanted to.

“Take a look?” Y/N mumbled.

“At you.”

A small breath left her lips.

“Maybe the answer to what’s been on your mind is somewhere in your eyes,” he said, eyes suddenly falling to her lips. “Or your lips.” He glanced at her forehead. “Or in the slight lines that appear between your eyebrows when you’re deep in thought.” He looked down at her hands on the table edge. “Or the way you’re gripping the table so tight right now.”

Jesus Christ, she was about to explode. Y/N let go of it immediately, standing up and forcing Harry to take two steps back. His intense glance lingered on her, falling to her lips as she opened her mouth to take a breath.

“It’s getting late,” she said, fingering the hem of her leather jacket as her heart continued to hammer away inside her chest.

“Wait for me, yeah?” Harry walked over to the next table to clean it, doing it way faster than all the other ones. Biting his lip and moving his hand with the cloth over the table as if to make up for time spent on something else, cleaning very slowly and standing too close to her.

“No, I can walk home by myself.”

“I know you’re capable of walking, but I don’t like you being out in the streets all alone late at night.”

Y/N looked over at Harry as he cleaned the last booth, seeing the determination to finish as quickly as possible.

“It’s just across the road,” she said.

“Please just let me walk you across the road, then.” Harry walked behind the bar counter, putting the cleaning supplies away.

“You make me sound like an old lady.”

“Just-“ He appeared from behind the counter. “-Wait.” He then disappeared into the backroom where he only stayed for a few seconds. Y/N would have thought that since he enjoyed working at The Stag’s Head, he would have at least lingered for a few moments to take in the last time he would ever be back there. But instead, he emerged wearing his coat, locking the door behind him, mere seconds later. He turned the lights off, and, walking over to where Y/N was standing, placed a gentle hand to her lower back, guiding her in the direction of the door that she could only barely make out in the dark. Goosebumps instantly ran up Y/N’s back and she inhaled at the pressure of Harry’s hand on her body. He held the door open for her and Y/N stepped outside, watching as Harry locked the front doors to The Stag’s Head for the very last time.

He looked around them after locking the door, checking up and down the three streets that came to a crossroad just outside the pub. Once his eyes finally met Y/N’s again he gave her the smallest smile, then motioned for her to lead the way back to their flat. She wanted to roll her eyes, but she could not find it in herself to do just that in that moment. Though it was just across the road, she very much appreciated Harry’s company back to their flat. Distance was nothing when the roads were dark and the faces of the figures walking past were left blurred by the dim streetlamps.

Harry held the door for Y/N once again, letting her be the first to enter the building. She strolled upstairs, unlocking their front door and watching as Harry gestured for her to walk on inside. The flat was dark, except for the warm yellow lights Nathan had twined around the railing of their terrace and the changing colours of the luminous Christmas tree in the living room. The kitchen was usually left in darkness, as was the rest of the flat, but since their eyes were used to night outside, it wasn’t hard to navigate their way to the stairs. They took their jackets off, and without her leather jacket on, Y/N was very aware of how much of her skin was exposed to Harry. Her dress showed off her legs, arms, and parts of her back to him, and she knew that, if he walked behind her up the stairs, he would get a good look at her bum.

She took her boots off and started up the stairs with her purse in her hand, hearing Harry make his way up them as well. If any man were to walk behind her up the stairs, Harry was one she trusted not to take the mick, to not look up her skirt and make her feel uncomfortable. But… after everything… she still didn’t want him to see her knickers. However, facing her door, she heard Harry walking up the stairs. Taking a deep breath, she turned around to face him once he reached the first floor. What happened next happened so suddenly that Y/N barely managed to wrap her head around it before the moment was gone.

She had just turned around to face Harry when he walked up over to her. Taking a step back at the sudden closeness, she felt herself breathe in sharply as Harry’s face lingered only centimetres from her own again. Though the person standing in front of her was a man, a completely different person, something inside her brain took her back to that night when they were 16. He hadn’t been this close to her since then, had not touched her or looked at her like this since then. His eyes flicked down to her lips, and then to meet hers, wet lips parting as if the anticipation was killing him.

And Y/N had to painfully admit, it was killing her, too. As much as she had tried to fight it, it was impossible to now. She wanted Harry to kiss her. Not tenderly kiss her like you would peck a person you were in love with, or to gently rub his thumb over her cheek as a show of affection, or to hug her tight when they met up for lunch. No, she wanted him to fucking kiss her. She wanted him to grab her face and kiss her hard; desperately, needily. She wanted them to fumble to take each other’s clothes off, and for him to make up for how bad that first time together was. There was absolutely no denying it, Y/N wanted Harry. She really wanted him. All these months, all those moments spent trying to push the thought away, she simply could not anymore. There was a hunger inside her for him, but only in the sexual sense. She could never fall in love with this man, she just wanted to fuck him. And she wanted to fuck him bad.

Her own lips parted, and she looked into his eyes with an expression she hoped he could read, because she needed him to understand. Once again, Harry raised his hand, hovering between them as if he were unsure what to do with it. Fingers twitching, she could see he was conflicted, whether he should touch her cheek as it looked like he wanted to, or if he should stop himself. Y/N let her eyes fall to his hand, to tell him she wanted him to touch her. She wanted to feel him somewhere, anywhere on her. Just looking at him, she could see he wanted the same as her. He wanted to feel her body, to explore it in a completely different way to last time.

Harry’s hand fell out of view, and just as Y/N thought he was going to let it hang limply, uselessly, at his side, she felt something on her waist. A warm pressure, snaking around the black linen of her dress. She waited for him to pull her closer to him, for their torsos to connect, but it never happened.

“Y/N,” Harry whispered, eyes falling to her lips again.

She did not answer, instead just tilted her head so it would be easier for him to kiss her. With her eyelids hanging low over her eyes, her body language not showing any sign of protesting, and with her lips parted, Y/N hoped the message was coming across clearly. Harry leaned in closer, his nose almost touching hers. Her heart was beating so fast and hard it hurt. Her hands were clammy. All her attention focused on Harry and the electricity they created on that spot where his hand rested. He leaned down, lips hovering just over the crook of her neck, making her close her eyes. Breath against the hair of her shoulder, lightning shooting up Y/N’s back. He slowly leaned back out again, nose hovering beside hers. The anticipation was absolutely killing her.

“I…” But he drifted off, eyes falling to her lips again. She could feel his breath on her mouth, could smell his cologne. The tension was making her dizzy, she just wanted him to bloody kiss her already.

She was just about to do it herself when she felt his warm hand drop off her waist. She blinked, and the next second, Harry took a step back. He only looked at her, mouth working as if he was trying to find the right words to say, but there were none. So, as if blinking himself awake from a sort of dream, he took another step back. Suddenly, he opened the door into his room. He stopped in the doorway, looking back at Y/N. Again, he tried to say something that must have died on the tip of his tongue, because again, he did not utter a word. It looked like he physically could not say them out loud. Instead, he closed the door, leaving Y/N standing alone out in the dark hallway.

Y/N’s eyes rested on the door to the bathroom, trying to go over in her head where it had just happened. Had… Had Harry just walked away just now? Had he teased her in the pub, then done almost the same just now, only to walk away? What had gone wrong? Why had he not kissed her? What had made him step away? What had made him stop? Y/N could not answer a single one of the questions, and she doubted Harry would give her any. She closed her eyes, resting her head against her door behind her. This was exactly why she had not wanted to live with Harry, this was why she had not given in to his charms and flirts before. Now, because of what had just happened, because of how awkward that had just been, they were back to square one. Just living under the same roof as him infuriated her. She could not fucking stand Harry Styles.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 4th April, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta readers! 🏛️ @aileenacoustic 🏛️ @devil-in-bw-the-sheets​​ 🏛️ @sunflowerstache​ 🏛️ @fromyourstrulyh​​ 🏛️

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#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #1dff #:DDDDDDDD PLS COME CHAT ILY ILY ILY :DDDDDDDDD

[bradtomlovesya]

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐏𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

Sooo, @brad-is-my-dante and i, wrote this together and we hope you like it!!! 🥺💙. I love you so much bestie. We will write one more in her profile so... wait for it :)

Summary: You and Brad are together and you go with him to a party. A guy starts flirting with you and of course Brad doesn't like that so he shows you who you belong to.

Word counter: 4,5k +

Warnings: Possessive, angst, Smut +18, submissive reader, kinky, bad language, orgasm denied. Read by your own responsibility.

Being in a relationship is hard, but being in a relationship with Bradley Simpson it’s ten times harder, and it’s not because of him, it’s because of the pressure of a lot of people watching your life.

But there was one great thing about it all, the intimacy with him was surreal, amazing and totally exhilarating. As innocent as that man's face might look, he was wild.

“What are you thinking about?” He surrounds my waist with his hands behind me.

he was talking about a little party he was going to have after the concert, not that i didn't like parties, but i was afraid of some inconvenient fan

"Maybe…" I turn and look into his eyes "Why do you want me to go? Couldn't we stay at the hotel?"

“You told me you will go with me, love” he sighs. “I don’t want to be there

without you” he begs. “Pretty please?"

"What do I get if I go?" The innocent eye lies and I could see his eyes turn a darker color. It was like I heard him purr

“It’s not what you will get if you go. Is what you will

get if you don’t go” he cocks his head. “I told you to be a good girl, don’t you dare disobey” his raspy voice is my weakness.

"O-okay babe" my voice shakes. That was the effect he had on me. "I will..."

He takes my purse and my coat before opening the car’s door “Let’s go then” he smiles. I bet he knows the power he has on me.

"Promise we won't be long?" In the car, on the way to the pub where the party would take place, I ask him.

“We will just take some drinks with my band mates, thank some producers and that’s all. After we get back home, I will be all yours, I promise” he takes my hand and leaves a soft kiss on it.

"Okay, bear" I give him an understanding smile. I love this man so much.

After he parks the car, we start walking inside. no more than five seconds pass and Tris is already heading to us.

“Hello, Hello” He says, hugs my boyfriend and then looks at me “How are you, Y/n?”

"I'm fine, and you?" then I give him a high five and the taller one smiles

"I'm fine. Come sit with us, we just need you to arrive" he says happily as he starts walking towards a big table with several bottles of drinks on top and Brad's other bandmates are already there with their girlfriends.

It wasn’t as boring as I expected. Lucee and Kirstie are completely angels and they understand what being girlfriend of a celebrity is, so we have that in common.

“Love?” Brad says, looking at me. “My mom is calling, it must be important. Would you mind waiting here while I take the call?.”

"Of course my love, go there. Send a kiss to your mom for me" I speak gently and he plants a little kiss on me. I could see him disappear into the crowd heading towards the exit.

"So y/n, wanna go dancing?" Kirstie asks me excitedly

"We're all going to the dance floor, come on, it's going to be fun" Lucee adds

"I think it's better not. I'll stay here waiting for Brad" I answer them trying not to look rude. I know Brad very well, he would not like to see me dancing without him.

“Okay… but if you change your mind, we will be there” he points at Kirstie who is already on the dance floor and I just nod in response.

After a couple of minutes, a guy I've never seen before takes sit next to me.

“Hey… I’ve never seen you here before. First time?” He gets closer and speaks in my ear so I can hear him without the interruption of the loud music.

"Um, no... I'm not from around here" I say loudly because of the music and step away from him feeling uncomfortable.

"And where would you be from, sweetie?" he asks approaching again. oh no, he used the nickname that Brad uses for me.

“I don’t think you will know where i’m from” I step away, again.

"Don't play hard to get, I've met girls like you before" he lets out a sloppy laugh and I could feel the breath of vodka. Shit, he doesn't know who he just messed with, if Brad had seen this, he would have kicked him already.

“I don’t want to be rude but you’re making me uncomfortable. Can you please just go?” I sigh and turn my head from side to side looking for Brad.

"Oh I'm sorry sweetie" he gives me a crooked smile "can you at least give me your number?...Or maybe a kiss?" He starts to lean in but soon a shrill, dominant voice makes him stop.

"No, she can't." It was Brad. He was standing with his arms crossed and looking deathly at the inconvenient guy. "didn't you hear her say? get out!"

"And who do you think you are, shorty?" the boy sneers at Brad and I can soon see his jaw strain with rage

"I'm her boyfriend!" Brad hits the table hard, startling the boy and me. "And you can be sure, I may not be tall, but I have plenty of strength to break that horrible face of yours" He looks steadily at the boy "I'm her boyfriend because I have character and a lot of potential. With that personality of yours you wouldn't even catch a bitch." I see anger in his eyes "Now get out of here before I break you!"

quickly I could see the boy almost run out of fear. After that I don't think he would ever go near a woman again without knowing if she had a boyfriend or not

"Can't I go out for 10 minutes that already have motherfuckers after what's mine?" He sits down beside me and I can already see his revealed neck vein and his furrowed brows. oh my god he was sexy

"I'm sorry, my love…" I take my hand and intertwine it with his looking at him gently "but it was better for me to have stayed here waiting for you, than to have gone out on the dance floor with the guys and something worse happened"

"In a way, you're right..." he lets out a loud sigh "I hate it when they try to take what's mine, you know?"

“But… are we okay?” I ask shily.

“Okay? No, we aren’t. There’s a lot of sons of bitches trying to get what’s mine. All - The - Fucking - Time” He looks at me with lust in his eyes. “I think i will have to remember you who your owner is” he takes my wrists.

“But-” he doesn’t let me speak.

"No 'but'. You come with me" he gets up and pulls me by the wrist

"W-won't you let the staff know? They might be worried" I ask him as I'm pulled out.

"Then I'll text them. Now I have to take care of you." he says firmly.

“Okay…” I gulp. I know what’s coming. Drinks, night, and jealousy aren’t the best combination for Brad. Or maybe they are… But not for me.

“Don’t worry, honey” He helps me get into the car. “I will give you just what such a bratty like you deserve”

"Y-you'll be kind… won't you?” I ask him apprehensively as I see him get into the driver's side slamming the door making me jump.

"Do you think you deserve kindness?" He laughs darkly "After I heard that bastard call you my favorite nickname, I'll have to punish you"

with these few words I could already feel a small puddle forming in my panties.

“I will behave,” I murmur.

He puts his hand on my tight and strokes it a little while driving “I hope so, darling. It’s your punishment, not mine”.

The rest of the road was really quiet, none of us said something but his fists were holding the steering wheel so hard making it go white. I saw his chest go down and up with his heavy breathing, I could also see his erection marked in his jeans.

It was a frequent consequence of Brad. He got angry about something and always ended up taking it out on sex. Was he nervous? sex. Was he jealous? sex.

"let's go" he said as he opened the car door for me after having parked the car in front of the hotel

We walked calmly through the hotel lobby, but because of the marked erection, I think the few people there already knew why we were going up to the room.

After the elevator doors closed I could feel my back against the cold metal of the elevator and my hands up. Brad kissed me harshly but passionately.

“Brad… there’s cameras on the elevator” I murmur between kisses.

“Do you think i fucking care?” He bites my lower lip.

“You should, you’re a public figure” I stop him.

“You’re annoying me” He rolls his eyes.

“I’m sorry” I bow my head and the doors of the elevator open.

“Shut up and walk”

I don’t say anything, I just do what he wants. I don’t want the punishment to be worse.

Once inside the room, he locks the door and looks at me in a dominant way. "Take off your clothes and get into bed. I'll be right back" I obey him and then he leaves towards the bathroom, where our bags were.

slowly taking off my clothes I could already imagine how hard he would be on me. I can't deny it, I love that part of him that only I know.

He came back after some minutes with handcuffs.

“A-And th-that?” i stutter.

”It’s for you, sweetheart” He walks towards me “On your knees”

I put on my knees on the bed.

“No,” he denies. “On the floor, now”

"Y-yes sir" so hard to do as he orders and get down on my knees on the fluffy floor mat

"Put your wrists on your back" so I do. He puts the handcuffs on my wrists causing a shiver over my body from the icy metal "You can't move until I speak, ok?"

"O-ok sir" he strokes my hair lovingly

"you're going to suck daddy's cock" he lets out a breath and unzips his jeans making his gray Calvin Klein mark his big erection even more "but when I ask you to stop, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to stop..." I say shyly

"You go what?" he grabs my chin making me look into his lust-bright eyes "Say it! you know what I want to hear"

"I'm going to stop Daddy!" I could already feel tears welling up in my eyes. He was being aggressive, I don't know if I don't like it or like it.

“Now…” he takes a deep breath “Open”

I do what he tells me to. I open my mouth in a big “a” with my eyes closed waiting for his dick to enter in my mouth but it doesn’t so i open my eyes

"I want you with your eyes open, looking at me" he lets out a long breath as he pumps his beautiful cock with an already reddened tip of sensitivity "If you were supposed to keep your eyes closed, I would have blindfolded you"

"I-im s-so sorry daddy" I say pleading through the eyes. At this point, if I did anything he didn't like, I know he would be able to hook up a vibrator to my clit and leave me without an orgasm for hours.

“No ‘Sorrys’. Open your mouth” I do. He takes my face in one hand and spits on my tongue “Swallow” He orders.

Now I'm just his toy. I’m here to please him, not the other way around.

“Good girl” he smiles when i do “now be more good and suck it all”

“Okay” I whisper and introduce his huge cock in my mouth. I try my best to let it in completely but it is too much for my little mouth.

"Do like this my little girl" he moans heavily "picking up daddy's dick so well, isn't it? such a good little girl to me, and just only for me"

looking into his face, I could see his eyes close in pleasure along with his mouth shaped like a perfect "o" and his furrowed brows.

Picking up my hair and pulling it into a ponytail, he started fucking my face like never before. with each thrust i could feel the veins in his cock pulse making me feel wetter and eager for him in me.

"Yeah little girl. Oh fuck, that mouth is just mine," he speaks heavily between moans "and no idiot can kiss or have his cock in her but me. I'm a lucky guy"

“Who do you belong to?” He takes his dick out of my mouth.

I gasp for air and he just grabs my hair harder.

“I asked something, sweetie. Answer”

“You” I answer breathing heavily.

“Me what? Use more words” He pulls my hair hard making me look at the roof.

“You, daddy” i cried out “I belong to you and only you”

This is hard, this is rough and I never thinked about Brad like this but… Is it bad to say I'm loving it?

"That's how I like it. Daddy loves when his little girl is obedient..." he lets out a long sigh "Dad was just really disappointed in one thing..."

Oh shit. What do I say wrong?

"You know baby, when I saw you call it sweet, my blood boiled with rage" he caresses my cheek “Did you see the way he was looking at your legs with that tight dress of yours? You use that dress for me. Only for me”

"S-sorry, daddy" I look at him feeling guilty

"Don't you remember what I said? No 'Sorrys'." he scolds me with the look "that bastard at least wouldn't know how to eat you." he rolls his eyes "get up slowly, your knees must be hurting"

I slowly stand up and feel my legs go weak but Brad holds me by the waist

"I warned you. Now I want to change the positions of the handcuffs, turn around" so I do and feel him release the handcuffs "Lie on the bed on your back"

"Yes daddy" I walk to the bed and lie down doing what he asked me to. Soon I can see him taking off his shirt and fully removing his underwear

"It's rude to stare honey" he chuckles softly as he notices my gaze on his dick "but I know, my dick is amazing and it's yours only"

he climbs on the bed and stays between my legs

"hands on the headboard" he asks and I do. So he holds my hands on the headboard rail.

“You remember our code?” He looks at my eyes and I just nod. “Words, darling. I won’t do anything without your permission”

“Green, keep going. Yellow, slow. Red, Stop” I bite my lip.

“That’s daddy’s girl” he lowers his hand until it ends where i need him the most. “Look at you” he laughs darkly “You’re dripping and i haven’t touched you yet” He slams my ass with his other hand. I know that will leave a pink mark. “Say please” He parts my folds but doesn't touch my clit.

“Please” I murmur.

“Please what?” He slams again. “Say it louder!” he orders.

“Please, daddy. Please fuck me with your fingers! please fuck me with your mouth! ” I close my eyes, feeling the pain. "Show me you're better than that bastard"

"Do you think it's going to be that easy?” He chuckles softly in my ear "Love, I'll make things difficult for you" I let out a whimper of disappointment

I feel his hands travel down my body and stop on my sensitive nipples. He quickly captures my right nipple with his mouth making it hard

"Oh, p-please daddy" I begged him. stop don't stop, never stop.

With one of his hands I feel him pinch the other nipple as he nibbles the other with his teeth. His free hand goes down to my wet pussy and touches me placing and taking his finger from my clit

"Um, little girl" he takes his mouth off my nipple "Tell me something" he licks the valley of my breasts "Who makes you so surrendered?"

"You daddy! You!" I close my eyes in an attempt even though I'm doing something so dirty, beg for god to change Brad's mind.

"Tell me…who makes you so wet?" He runs his index finger into my wet hole "huh? tell me"

"Oh my God! You daddy! You Bradley!" he totally stops with the movements

"what did you say?" I open my eyes and find a totally wild face "What did you just say?! Say it again!"

"You B-Bradley" I already knew that was it, I had never used his full name.

"You can't" He takes his hand out of my pussy. "You can't call me like that" I inhale deeply feeling the emptiness he left in my hole.

"I'm so sorry, daddy" i start crying again "please…"

"No 'please'. Now, i won't let you cum on my fingers 'cause i told you to be a good girl and you didn't"

I could feel my pussy throb for the lack of his touch. I just wanted him anyway, but he was making things difficult

"You know... I could call it a bitch, since that bastard stole my favorite nickname" he presses my cheek with one hand

"N-no, please. You promised you'd never call me bad names, remember daddy?" I beg him

it was a deal we had, no bad names for him and me. As hard as he would be on sex, the way to call me, he would be sweet.

"fuck… You teased me so much, little girl." he takes the grip off my cheeks and starts smoothing "the way you looked at me today as I sang to the crowd… you know how to tease daddy, don't you?"

this time I knew he didn't want an answer. His eyes looked wildly at me, I could see his pupil dilated because of the pleasure and love he felt for me.

"Do you know what naughty girls earn?" he whispers in my ear making me shiver and I shake my head "a good hard fuck… if you're good daddy will let you come. Ok?"

"O-ok daddy, I promise to be good" he nods his head

"What's the code?" he positions himself between my legs as he pumps his cock with his hand

"G-green…" I let out a sigh seeing him position himself at my entrance.

"You still on the pill?" I nod "good girl" when he finishes talking, he enters at once without giving me time to adjust. a loud moan comes out of my throat and I feel a burning

"It doesn't even look like I fucked you this morning. So tight for daddy, huh?" he moans with his eyes closed

"Only for you, daddy. I promise" I gasp, squeezing my eyes. My hands were still in the handcuffs but I needed to touch him "Can I touch you… please?"

"Do you think you deserve to touch me? huh?” He pinches hard one of my nipples making me scream "I'll only let you go when I think it's necessary, weigh it again and you won't enjoy it. did you hear me?"

"Y-yes daddy" throwing my head back in pleasure I could feel him change the angle

now my legs were over his shoulders causing him to reach deeper into my core, suddenly hitting my G-spot

"Daddy! Oh my God!" I moaned desperately as I felt my orgasm start to get closer with every thrust he did.

"Are you going to cum?" He says between moans.

I nod no trusting in my own words.

"I don't think so" he starts moving slower. I feel the burning in my stomach disappear and a sigh of frustration leaves my lips.

"Keep calm, baby girl" he kisses my forehead. "Just keep being good and you will get your reward" He enters deeper in me with just one thrust. his fingers dig into my waist with force making me scream at the top of my lungs.

"Who is making you feel this good?" He kisses my neck.

"You, sir" I moaned, feeling him hit that spot again.

"Don't talk with those son of bitches when you have everything with me" he speaks heavily yet deposits a big smack on my ass making me scream "Did you hear me? I want an answer!"

"Yes daddy! I b-belong to you! only to you!" soon I could see a smile break out on Brad's pleasurable face.

"Perfect." it hits that point of mine again going faster this time "Can you let daddy come first?"

"Daddy, I can't h'hold back a-anymore" he clicks his tongue

"You're being selfish little girl" he sighs "you know I can easily leave you without coming, don't you?"

"I'm s-so sorry, daddy" I whimper from the pleasure. Jesus he can't stop it

"I'll release you, don't touch where I don't allow" I nod with a smile and he leans over and lets go of my hands "give me your hand, you know what to do with it don't you?" I nod "fine, no squeezing just stroke"

he brings my hand up to his balls making me caress them. with this act he gains speed inside me hitting my core hard and moaning in an animalistic way

"You know very well how to treat daddy." he groans through clenched teeth "Moan for me love. I want to listen to my baby while I fuck you hard"

"Daddy! D-don't stop…" His movements become sloppy and soon i feel jets of hot semen in my core.

"Bloody hell!" he grumbles before collapsing on top of me and I bring my hands up to his hair and stroke it. "Such a good girl for daddy... made me come so hard, i think someone deserves a reward" he kisses me with love

"P-please, daddy" I beg softly.

"What do you want me to do, sweetheart?" He leaves kisses all over my face.

"Fuck me with your fingers… pretty please?" I say in a submissive tone. I know he wants to keep control even when he is already finished.

"Oh my love do you want me to fuck you with my sperm?..." he takes a hand to my core and incites two fingers "Like this?..."

"Oh! Yeah daddy!" he bends his fingers at me hitting my spot again "P-please, D-don't stop…"

He gives small kisses down my neck following my collarbone and stopping at my breasts. With his free hand he starts massaging my left breast "You are so perfect, it was made exactly to my size. They fit in my hand"

"Oh, Fuck!" I scream feeling the burn in my stomach.

"Cum for me, babe. Cum on my fingers" He speeds up his pace.

I'm sweating and moaning like never before. I'm tired but I don't want him to stop.

He puts his thumb on my clit while keeps fucking me hard with his other fingers and that friction was last thing i needed to realease in his hand screaming his name.

"Oh my God! Thank you daddy! Thank you!" I breathed heavily while shivering and Brad gave me little kisses on my neck

"You're very welcome, babe" He caresses my hair. "Now let's take a shower to clean you up"

"I don't feel my legs" i laugh a little "you left me without the possibility of walking"

"Sorry, honey. But you search for it" he takes me in his arms and walks with me to the bathroom. Once we are in, he lets me sit down on the bathtub.

"I'm going to turn on the hot water love, it'll help ease the pain between your legs" he said turning on the tap and coming to give me a kiss "I'll get the robes, I'll be right back" he goes out the bathroom door and I take the opportunity to admire that one beautiful round ass.

feeling the water rise higher and higher, I relax and close my eyes. I can feel my core on fire. As much as I was punished, I loved how affectionate Brad became afterward.

"Hey love, you're not sleeping in the bathtub are you?" I hear Brad's laughing voice and open my eyes to see him put the robes over the sink

"No. I'm just relaxing" he walks towards me totally naked. This man is perfect in every way

"Space me" he asks and I lean forward feeling him fit behind me "Hmm but I think I tired my girl, didn't I?"

"You did" I let out a small laugh and he follows me

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" He kisses my neck "I couldn't bear to be too rough with you, the pain I give you is always to give you pleasure"

"Be calm Brad" I link one of my hands in his "I'm just feeling a burning sensation, nothing too different from other times"

"Are you sure?" He whispers fondly in my ear and then nuzzles my neck.

"Yes babe I'm sure" I rested my head on his chest closing my eyes and soon I felt him take a sponge and rub my breasts and stomach.

"Time to take care of my baby" he kisses my head "I love you so much y/n"

"I love you too, Bradley bear" my breath calms down enjoying the feeling. "Can I ask you something?" I look at his chocolate eyes for a moment.

"Whatever you want to" He answers with a cute smile.

"Why did you get that jealous of that guy?" I giggle.

"Being honest… you're one of the best things in my life right now and just the think of losing you for just one dumb guy drives me insane" he says in a lost and sad voice.

"You won't lose me..." I kiss him gently "I've been waiting for you for so long, it will always be you, and for you"

"But I'm still afraid of losing you... I waited so long for love and you showed up" he sighs and I can see tears in his eyes and i caress his cheek "you are the most precious thing in this world" a lonely tear leaks from his eye and I wipe it away with my thumb.

"You are also the most precious thing in the world Brad. I love you so much" I plant a little kiss on him "well I think we should go to bed, I'm really tired"

"true my love, can you get up?"

"Yeah babe" I get up out of the tub and grab one of the robes "Will you stay there?"

"No" he gets up from the tub and repeats my movements and I look at him mischievously

"I doubt you can reach me... softly" when I finish talking I run towards the room leaving him behind

"y/n! come back here!" I hear him scream before he comes after me

Who knew dating Bradley Simpson would be so exciting…

#bradley simpson smut #brad simpson imagine #bradleywillsimpson #bradley simpson #connor ball #brad simpson #brad simpson smut #bradleysimpson #tristan evans #the vamps #the vamps smut #the vamps imagines #fanfic #one shot #oneshot #kinky girl

[mrstaeminlee]

Mission Complete Ch. 1

You had two goals in life. One: Complete your squad training without dying. Two: Fuck Levi Ackerman

Pairings: Levi/f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, eventual smut, lmk if I need to add anything~

You really had no idea what the fuck prompted you to join the military. Maybe it was to find some redeeming grace in the eyes of your dying mother, maybe it was because you wanted a life with as much stability as one could muster, maybe it was because you just fucking hated farming.

Whatever it was, you wished to any God that would listen that you would have buried it in the ground along with the countless friends and family members you had lost to the Titans.

The first week of the cadet corps was everything you knew you would hate and more. Between the foul smelling breath of the commandant threatening to make you puke up the bread you had managed to steal, to working your body to the point of sneaking away from one on one combat to puke behind the bushes, after seven days you had almost decided that maybe digging in the dirt for the rest of your miserable life wasn't so bad.

There was only one thing stopping you from making your own walk of shame to the wagon of regret.

Levi Ackerman.

AKA the man you fantasized about every night when you managed to find enough strength to finger yourself below the covers.

He was a couple of inches shorter, true, but you were willing to break your rule of not fucking anyone shorter than you for him.

You had only see him twice in your life by complete chance, the first had been when you happened to be by the gates in time to see the Scouts returning from what was undoubtably another failed mission, and you decided that what the hell, might as well have a look at Humanity's Strongest in the flesh. Granted, it hadn't been his best day; his green cloak was splattered with what could only have been the blood of his comrades as it didn't look as if he had a single scratch on him, but he looked like a god, albeit one that had just gotten his ass kicked out of heaven. His eyes seemed to be sunken in, and even from how far away you were you found yourself shivering from the intensity of his dead gaze. You weren't sure what possessed you to lift your hand as he eyes moved through the crowd, looking for whom, you didn't know, or what possessed him to raise those eyes to you, but you found yourself lost in haunted silver as you gave a soft wave. The way he seemed to look straight through you, not even seeing you even as you stared at each other, was enough to convince you that you needed to do whatever it took to see this man again.

You enlisted the start of the next week.

The second time was completely by chance.

Everyone was desperate for military recruits, and desperate times called for desperate calls to important people to make appearances in front of people that were well, not very important.

Erwin Smith, Dot Pixis, Nile Dawk, Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoe, Rico Brzenska, and even Darius Zackly graced the entrance ceremony of the new Cadets, and you thanked whatever bone in your body made you a teacher's pet because you had a front row seat to the man that had plagued your thoughts every single day in the past week. His appearance was brief and he didn't speak, just stared at the fresh faces, some cocky, some blank, but mostly terrified new recruits, and you could have sworn that you saw a tinge of sadness hidden in the silver, as if he could already foresee the deaths of everyone in front of him. He followed after Erwin immediately after the blond gave his speech about thanking you all for making the decision to serve humanity and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. 'I'm not doing this for humanity, I'm doing this for dick,' you thought as you signed your life away to this shit camp for the next two years.

How one man who was fucking shorter than you managed to convince you to trade the next 728 days, 14 hours, 37 minutes, and 15 seconds of your life for physical and emotional hell was beyond you, and yet here you were, standing proud and slightly hungover from the pre-graduation celebrating you did with Eren, Mikasa, and Armin the night before. They hadn't initially been your first choice in friends, but Armin was nice to you from the start and once you very quickly learned that flirting with Eren in front of Mikasa was not in your best interest, you had decided that they were alright; especially when Eren's Titan form had been revealed. If anyone was going to have to get close enough to keep an eye on Eren, it would be Captain Levi.

The very man you were thinking of walked on the stage along with Nile Dawk, Dot Pixis, and Erwin Smith as the three took turns giving their pitch. You hadn't made the top 10 but were happy for your friends that were, you were content with your place as 13th. In a class of over 500, you still considered it a win, and if your parents were still alive you knew they'd be proud. As the remaining members of the top 10 who had opted to join the elitest MP's went off to talk to Nile and the other scared fucks ran off to sign themselves to the Garrison regiment, you and around a hundred other members stayed where you were and you licked your lips, forcing your heart rate to calm itself. 'Calm down, you can't work your way up to fucking the strongest man in the world if you die of heart attack before-'

"Listen up you little shits."

Oh my God he was speaking you've never heard his voice before it's so fucking-

"Most of you are going to die. Are you prepared for that?"

Ah, so Humanity's Strongest was a sweet talker.

"Erwin is making me come up here and talk, so we're all going to pretend that I'm saying some meaningful bullshit. But here's the truth: If you aren't strong, you will die, and it will be painful. Imagine the thought of seeing your childhood friend's entrails being slurped up like spaghetti by a Titan, while the entire time he's conscious enough to reach his hand out for you, and you are able to do nothing for him because you spent exactly one second hesitating, or you were a moment too late to draw your blades, or react to the threat. If that scares you, then do us all a favor and put down that half assed salute and sell your soul to the Garrison where you'll spend your days fucking the best whores for a discount if you're in uniform and getting drunk on the clock."

After his touching speech you and your now dripping panties decided that you had indeed made the right decision in selling yourself to the Scouts.

One month later

It was moments like these, where you weren't quite trashed but definitely more than tipsy, that you had never been happier to be part of the survey corps. I mean, you were in peak physical shape (you still couldn't believe you had abs. Abs!), you were hot, you were fit, and you knew Sasha Braus, who had managed to steal a few bottles of top shelf liquor from the higher ups.

You were also horny as fuck. It had been over a year since you'd gotten laid, and you were using the dildo you'd bought on your first trip back into town as often as you brushed your teeth (twice a day, you didn't fuck with cavities). You briefly thought about enlisting the help of one of your current drinking buddies but after seeing your choices you decided to leave it to old faithful hidden in your pillowcase. There was Jean, who albeit was pretty hot even with the long face but was so in love with Mikasa it made you want to vomit. Marco, who you were almost one hundred percent sure was gay; Connie, who held the sexual appeal of a pile of horse shit, although he was super nice. Reiner almost looked promising but you knew underneath those stocky muscles was a shitload of emotional baggage you didn't want, and Bertholt was head over heels for Annie of all people. That left Armin and Eren. Eren you already knew was out, while your slut senses told you he'd be a great lay, you weren't quite ready for your life to end at the hands of Mikasa. That left Armin. You tilted your head, staring at him as you sipped on your god forsaken concoction and debated fucking him or not. He wasn't outright sexy, but he'd filled in well during the two years of training and you had seen glimpses of his surprisingly impressive muscles under his white shirt. He might actually do. He'd be shy as hell and you would have to lead everything, not to mention he'd probably cum in less than a minute, but it just might-

“Did you guys know that Captain Levi is a virgin?"

You spit the mix of vodka, rum, and whatever mixer Reiner had put in all over the face of the person you had just considered fucking.

"I'm sorry, what?" You turned your attention to Christa, apologetically handing Armin a napkin and patting his cheek.

Christa blushed at the attention and scooted closer to Ymir, who threw an arm around her shoulders and gave Reiner her customary 'If you even look at her weird, I will gut you' look. "W-Well, recently I started helping out in the infirmary because they've been short handed. You all know, it's that time of year where everyone has to get looked at and they give us that sheet of paper to fill out with all of our personal information to keep track of potential diseases. I was in charge of filing the paperwork the day they brought all of the officers in, and on the paper they ask you how many sexual partners you've had and Captain Levi wrote 0. But you guys, you have to promise not to tell anyone! This is private information, if it somehow gets out that I told you this I'll get into a lot of trouble!"

Ymir chuckled, placing a sloppy kiss at the top of the blonde's head. "Don't worry about a thing sweet cheeks, if any of these miscreants here says a word I'll kill them for ya. But we don't have to worry about that at all, now do we?" She glared at each person in the room, who all looked as if Christa were a ghost, and slowly shook their heads.

Your life was changed.

Captain Levi Ackerman.

The strongest man in the world.

Rumored former thug of the Underground.

The person responsible for killing as many Titans as a hundred soldiers.

The person whose squad every scout dreamed of being on, was a virgin.

You screeched out a laugh before you could help it, the alcohol doing nothing to try and make you quiet yourself as you fell onto your back laughing, cup long forgotten as it rolled across the floor. The person who initiated your drive to join the military in the first place, the person you literally dreamed of fucking, had never gotten his dick wet.

Clearly, you had your work cut out for you.

If you managed to live through the sight of Ymir reaching over to punch you in the face to shut you up.

#lmk if y'all like it plssssss #we're just gonna age everyone up here lol #I've been thirsting after Armin as a 30 yr old college professor who blushes when he sees you in your bra but chokes you out during sex #aot x reader #snk x reader #Levi ackerman #Levi Ackerman x reader #Levi x reader #Levi x reader smut #Levi smut #captain levi

[nevermindirah]

I've been drafting and redrafting this meta post for weeks now. It's about to be 5781 and my country that was founded on settler colonial genocide and slavery and a deeply flawed but fierce attachment to democracy might go full dictatorship in about 6 weeks and it's time for me to post this thing.

All our immortals are warriors, all have been traumatized by war. But only three of them died their first deaths as soldiers in imperial armies. This fandom has already produced gallons of meta on Nicky dealing with his shit, because Joe would not fuck with an unapologetic Crusader. But there's very rich stuff in Booker and Nile's experiences and the parallels and distinctions between them.

Nile was 11 when her dad was killed in action - that was 2005, meaning she and her dad both died in the same war that George W Bush started in very tenuous response to 9/11. Sure, Nile's dad could have died in either Iraq or Afghanistan, or in a training accident or in an off-the-books mission we won't know about for a hundred more years, but he died in the War on Terror all the same. I had to look it up to be sure because Obama "drew down" the Afghanistan war in his second term, but nope, we're still in this fucking thing that never should've happened in the first place. The US war in Afghanistan just turned 19 years old. A lot of real-life Americans have experiences like the Freemans, parents and children both dying in the same war we shouldn't be in.

I know a lot of people like Nile who join the US military not just because it's the only realistic way for them to pay for college or afford decent healthcare, but also because they have a family history of military service that's a genuine source of pride. Military service has been a way for Americans of color to be accepted by white Americans as "true Americans" - from today's Dreamers who Obama promised would earn protection from deportation by enlisting, to Filipino veterans of WW2 earning US citizenship that Congress then denied them for several decades, to slaves "earning" their freedom through service in the Union Army and in the Continental Army before it. As if freedom is a thing one should have to earn. Lots of Black Americans have the last name Freeman for lots of different escaping-slavery reasons, but it's possible that this specific reason is how Nile got her last name.

Dying in a war you know your country chose to instigate unnecessarily and that maybe you believe it shouldn't be waging is a very particular kind of trauma. It is a much deeper trauma when your military service, and your father's, and maybe generations of your ancestors', is a source of pride and access to resources for you but your sacrifice is nearly meaningless to the white supremacist system that deploys you. That kind of cognitive dissonance encourages a person to ignore their own feelings just so they can function. How do you wake up in the morning, how do you risk your life every day, how do you *kill other people* in a war that shouldn't be happening and that you shouldn't have to serve in just so that your country sees you as human?

We see Nile do her best to be a kind and well-mannered invader. Depending on your experience with US imperialism, Nile giving candy to kids and reminding her squad to be respectful is either heartwarming or very disturbing propaganda. We also see Nile clutching her cross necklace and praying. From the second Christianity arrived on this land it's been a tool of white supremacist assimilation and control, but like military service, it's a fucked-up but genuine source of pride and access to resources for many Americans whose pre-Columbian ancestors were not Christian, and it's a powerful source of comfort and resilience. This Jew who's had a lot of Spanish Inquisition nightmares would like to say for the record that it's not Jesus's fault that his big name fans are such shitty people.

Nile is a good person trying to do her best in a fucked-up world. "Her best" just radically changed. Her access to information on just how fucked up the world is has also just radically changed, because everything's so fucked up a person needs a lot of time to learn about it all and not only does she have centuries but she won't have to spend that time worrying about rent and healthcare and taxes, and because she now has Joe and Nicky and Andy's stories, and because she now has Copley's inside scoop on just what the fuck the CIA has been up to. Like, I want a fic where Copley tells Nile what was really behind the brass's decisions that led to her experiences on the ground in Afghanistan, that led to her father's death, but also I Do Not Want That.

Nile was 19 when Alicia Garza posted on Facebook that Black Lives Matter. She grew up in Chicago well before white people on Twitter were saying maybe police violence against Black people is a problem. She knows this is a deeply fucked up country, and she put on her Marine uniform and deployed with her team of mostly fellow women of color, and maybe she and Dizzy and Jay marched in the streets between deployments, maybe they texted each other when a white manarchist at a protest sneered at one of them for being a Marine. Nile's been busy surviving, and she knows some shit and she's seen some shit but she hasn't had much time to think about what it all means. Now she's got time. And Joe, Nicky, and Andy are willing to listen. (Is Copley willing to listen? I could see that going either way.)

Booker might also be willing to listen. The brilliant idea of cleaning up the rat Frenchman so that Nile can have millennia of emotional support and orgasms sent me down a Wikipedia rabbit hole, and holy shit do Booker and Nile have a lot of shared life experience as pawns of imperial wars. Obviously Booker is white and a man and that makes a very big difference. (Though G-d help me, Booker could be Jewish and France was knocking its Jews around like ping-pong balls in the 18th-19th centuries. Jewish Booker wouldn't make him any less white but it does add a shit ton of depth of common experience: military service as a way for your country to see you as a full member of society who matters, because who you are means that's not guaranteed.)

Booker was hanged for desertion from the army Napoleon sent to invade Russia as part of his quest to control all of Europe. We learn in the comics / this YouTube video that Booker was on his way to prison for forgery when he was offered military service instead of jail time. While we don't know how he felt about the choice beyond that he did choose soldier over inmate, it's unlikely he thought invading Russia was a great idea, given he tried to desert because Napoleon like a true imperialist dumbass didn't plan for how he was going to feed his army or keep them from freezing to death in fucking Russian winter.

I find it very interesting that the French Empire was at its largest right before invading Russia and fell apart completely within a few years. My country has been falling the fuck apart for a while now - see aforementioned War on Terror, growing extremes of economic stratification in the richest country in the world, abject refusal to meaningfully deal with climate change that US-based corporations hold the lion's share of blame for - but between Trump's abject refusal to meaningfully deal with the coronavirus and strong likelihood that he'll refuse to leave office even if a certain pathetic moderate I will hold my nose and vote for does manage to earn a majority of votes, ~y~i~k~e~s.

Our only immortals who have never known a world before modernity and nationalism happen to have been born of wars that were the beginning of the end for the imperialist democracies that raised them, and I think in the centuries to come that's going to give them some very interesting shit to talk about.

Nile's a Young Millennial, a digital native born in the United States after the collapse of the USSR left her country as the world's only superpower. She's used to a pace of technological change that human brains are not evolved to handle.

Napoleon trying to make all of Europe into the French Empire was a leading cause of the growth of European nationalism and the establishment of liberal democracies both in Europe and in many places that Europeans had colonized. Booker's first war produced the only geopolitical world order Nile has ever known and I just have so many feelings ok. Nile the art history nerd is probably not aware of this, and why would she be? This humble meta author is, like Nile, a product of US public schools, and all they taught me about world history was Ancient Greece/Rome/Egypt/Mesopotamia and then World War 2. Being raised in The World's Only Superpower is WEIRD.

Nile the Young Millennial is used to the devastating volume of bad news the internet makes possible. But she has absolutely no concept of a world where the United States of America is not The World's Only Superpower. In order to get up in the morning and put on her gear and point guns at civilians in Afghanistan, she can only let herself think so much about whether that American exceptionalism thing is a good idea.

She's about to spend many, many years where the only people who she can truly trust are people who are older than not only her country but the IDEA of countries.

She's got time, and she's got a lot of new information at her disposal. But there comes a point where my obsession with her friendship and eventual very hot sex life with Booker just isn't about sex at all. Nile needs someone to talk to about the United States who Gets It. Booker the rat Frenchman coerced into Napoleon's army, and Copley the Black dual citizen of the US and UK who's retired from a CIA career that he half understands as deeply problematic but half still believes in hence his mind-bogglingly stupid partnership with Merrick, are the only people on the planet Nile can talk to honestly about, and really be understood in, all the thoughts and feelings and fears and hopes of her experience as a US Marine.

And one more thing before I go get ready for Rosh Hashanah: Orientalism was a defining element of the Crusades and that legacy is painfully clear in current US-led Western military activity in Afghanistan, Syria, Israel/Palestine, you name it. Turns out memoirs by French veterans of the Napoleonic Wars are full of Orientalist language about Russia as well. I am maybe/definitely writing a fic where Booker spends his exile reading critical race theory and decolonial feminism and trauma studies monographs because he can't be honest with a therapist but maybe he can heal this way and become the team therapist his own damn self. I just really need him to read Edward Said and Gloria Anzaldúa and then go down on Nile, ok?

#nile freeman #tog meta #book of nile #sebastien le livre #the old guard #mine #us imperialism #european imperialism #jewish things #antiblackness #police violence #orientalism