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rcmclachlan · 3 months ago

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wind finding

buck/tommy

8x14/8x15 spec fic

I wrote this right before my first morning meeting, so if it's rushed and makes no sense, I'm well aware. Enjoy!

The very second Tommy went with helicopters, people came crawling out of the woodwork to offer their two cents on everything from industry politics (all dangled carrots and empty promises) to what constitutes a good operator (whoever's actually signing your paycheck at the time) to which jobs would bring in the most money (ditching helicopters entirely in favor of planes) to the best ways to manage stress (avoiding utility altogether).

But the one piece of advice Tommy has never forgotten came from one of his first operators in Afghanistan, who had a face like a mountain crag and every word that came out of his mouth had to first find its way around the wad of dip permanently attached to his bottom gums.

"Being able to find the wind is the only skill you need to nail down, or else you're gonna frag out faster'n you can say 'high as bat pussy'. The odds of being able to see the leaves on a fuckin' tree are less'n nothin' out here, never mind spottin' a fuckin' windsock, Kinard. The second you get in the air, you just listen to your bird; she'll tell you point blank where the wind is, so long as you've got your ears on."

Then Warrant Officer Harold hocked a loogie the size of a crow at the ground and stormed away, shouting, "PRIVATE KEATON, IF YOU DON'T STOP FONDLIN' THAT REFUEL PROBE I'M GONNA SHOVE IT IN YOUR DICK HOLE!"

Twenty years later, Tommy's in the cockpit of his favorite AW139 with the mouth of a glock pressed right above his brain stem, and the second he achieves optimal altitude, he finds the wind.

"You make it look so effortless, like it's just something your body does. Like breathing," Evan had said during their one and only legal flight together, like he wasn't furious that Tommy had woken him up at 3:30 in the morning on his day off to go for a joyride. Even as the sun peeked over the horizon to see if the coast was clear, it couldn't hope to match the sheer brightness of Evan's smile.

If being able to find the wind wasn't practically part of his autonomic nervous system at this point in his career, Tommy'd have no business being in the air at all.

"Remember," the guy with the gun, Remo, murmurs into the headset he'd forced Tommy to give him. "Top of the Aon. We're making the switch there."

"Nakatomi Tower would be better for this sort of thing," Tommy mutters.

Instead of being whipped with the gun, the speaker in his ear crackles with Remo's laughter. "I was more partial to the second film."

Tommy grips the cyclic a little tighter. "That's the worst thing you've admitted to so far."

It's not. Bombing multiple police stations was bad enough, but one of them was right next to a school. The last thing that came through the comms before Remo's buddies hacked it was the 118 being called to 309 Lucas Ave in Westlake North for fire containment and emergency medical assistance.

He glances at the dashboard. Tucked right above the radar is a little photo he'd printed out at his local CVS on a whim while he was getting a 'Happy 80th birthday, grandma!" card for Sal. It's barely anything: a portrait forced to inhabit a 4x4 square, so the quality is extra shitty. But the man in it is smiling brighter than a sunrise over the ocean, and Tommy's heart gives a pitiful thud just looking at it.

Melton would've shit a brick if he'd known about it. Despite what Hollywood would have the general populace believe, having pictures of loved ones on a pilot's dashboard can be a hell of a distraction. It goes against LAFD regs.

But having spent the last month reacquainting himself with Evan's smile and the wild hope that they could have a future together, it felt right to tack the photo up. He was professional enough that he wouldn't let it get in the way of the job.

He thinks of Evan watching him from the bed this morning, tangled up in sheets that smelled like the both of them. He thinks of the blurred, sleep-damp smile on Evan's face as Tommy hid the evidence of what they got up to the previous night.

"You're covering up a masterpiece," Evan had said, voice a little blurred with sleep. "That's some of my best work."

"Let me guess: if I connect all the hickeys, it's gonna turn into a dolphin or something?"

Evan had thrown back his head on the pillow and cackled, and Tommy had thought, We could build a life on this.

Except Evan is pulling tiny bodies out of the ruins of Gratts Elementary, Tommy's got a gun to his head, and Remo's little cell of opportunistic assholes are using the bombings across the city to distract from the 51% blockchain hack they pulled off two hours ago. Tommy doesn't understand crypto for the life of him, but what he got from Harbor's newest probie was something something a blockchain’s distributed ledger was changed and double spending was enabled. At the time, it seemed like a lot of bullshit that boiled down to "they now control the invisible internet money conveyor belt," but at least 200 people are dead, and according to Remo, there are still 70 bombs wired and ready to explode on his say-so.

Unless Tommy flies him and his weird, silent friend to the Aon, where someone's going to be waiting to whisk them away to all points nowhere. Tommy knows exactly how this is going to shake out: the second he lands the bird, Remo's going to bury a bullet in Tommy's brain before disappearing into the wind, leaving the world in shambles. But it won't be enough. Remo will get bored before long—the smart, psychotic ones always do—and then pop back up at some point to do even worse if he has the opportunity.

Ten years from now, they'll make a documentary series about all this. Evan will watch it, because he's contractually obligated to seek out things that will hurt him for some reason, and it'll probably be like cutting open a just-healed wound. He'll spiral until Maddie or one of the others forces him to stop. The series will be called something stupid, like Finding Remo.

That is, of course, if Remo has the opportunity.

Swallowing, throat clicking, Tommy glances at the photo on the dashboard. Evan beams at him from where he's posing like the dorkiest Greek god in the pantheon on top of a boulder somewhere on the Temescal Canyon Trail. That had been a good day. It seemed like the start of a lifetime of them.

He looks away and out the windshield where, up ahead, the Aon stands tall against the sky. But standing taller, and closer, is Library Tower.

Exhaling, Tommy keeps his eyes straight. "Listen, you can put the gun away. It's not the threat you think it is."

"No?" Remo presses the glock harder against the back of Tommy's head, and Tommy stifles a wince. "You think I won't shoot you?"

"Oh, I know you're gonna shoot me," Tommy says, almost cheerfully. He refuses to look any closer at that. "I just don't think you're gonna do it while we're hanging 900 feet above the city."

The pause that follows is probably only a second or two, but it feels like a decade. Finally, the press of metal disappears, and Tommy hears the safety clicking back on.

"You seem pretty calm about all this," Remo says, curiosity making his already light voice positively airy.

Tommy shrugs. "Last year I stole one of these to fly some friends into a category 5 hurricane, then landed it on a capsized cruise ship. This? Doesn't even break a 6.5 on my Crazy Shit-o-meter."

Remo laughs, and Tommy hears the tell tale rustling of the gun being holstered. Thankfully the rotors completely drown out the sound of his heart pounding, which would otherwise be audible from space.

"Let me just say that of all the pilots I could've kidnapped, you're by far the most entertaining."

"Thank you," Tommy says seriously.

Below them, the Walt Disney Concert Hall is lit up for the night's show. They'll be passing the BoA Financial Center, and from there it's only a couple of minutes until their destination.

"Hey, uh, since this does end with me getting shot," Tommy ventures, trying to keep a lid on the massive amounts of adrenaline that are being dumped into his bloodstream. He must be visibly vibrating. "Could I... could I make a call?"

Remo snorts. "Let me guess: 9-1-1?"

Okay, that's kind of funny. Tommy cracks a grin. "Not quite. I have someone... I have someone, and there's something important I need to say."

One of the drawbacks of a helicopter's cockpit is there's no rearview mirror, which would really come in handy right now. He has no idea what Remo's face is doing. He has no idea if he's looking at his silent companion and having some kind of wordless conversation, if Remo is the kind of guy who would grant the last wish of someone he's using.

Finally, after what feels like years, Remo says, "You get ten seconds. You'd better make them count."

He's done more with less. "That's fair. But I'm either going to need you to call it for me or let me hook into an open line."

The air inside the helicopter seems to squeeze inward. "An open line?"

"My... my boyfriend's LAFD." He bites down on the inside of his cheek as they pass the BoA Center on the left, and hopes against all hope that Remo isn't too much of a homophobe to deny the request.

But surprise, surprise. Remo only laughs and says, "How romantic. Urs, get him on an open line to his firefighter boyfriend. It's the least we can do after everything he's done to help us."

Tommy can't see what Urs is doing, but his headset crackles with the familiar static of a live comms line.

"Ten seconds," Remo reminds him. Below them, the roof of Library Tower seems both miles away and impossibly close.

It's all he needs.

"This is LAFD pilot Tom Kinard. Evan Buckley, if you're listening, look in the drawer to the right of the microwave. There's something in there for you." He quietly undoes his harness and kills the engine. "It's yours. It's always been yours."

Just as the AW139 is about to clear the roof of the tower, Tommy shoulders open the door and kicks off into the sky.

The wind is blowing southeast.

"N-No, no, no, hey, it's okay, don't fight it, you're okay—hey, I need some help in here! He's waking up! Tommy, they're going to take it out, just wait."

There's a tree trunk growing out of his throat, but trying to move it is impossible, and the effort takes everything out of him. So he gives up, gagging and drifting in and out, then decides to just climb the entire length of the tree to get a look at the view. From there, it's just a matter of finding the wind and floating away with it.

The next time he surfaces, there's something hard over his face, warm and humid, and when the clouds clear from his vision he's able to see two things: Evan's wide-eyed expression of relief, and a giant orange poster board in Lucy's familiar, blocky handwriting that says 2 DAYS SINCE KINARD LAST TAUNTED GOD.

There's a 1 in front of the 2, but it's crossed out.

"Hey!" Evan breathes, and the mattress at Tommy's hip dips a little under his weight. "H-Hey, there you are. Morning! Well, not, uh, morning exactly—it's like 8 o'clock at night—but you're awake!"

"I am." It's muffled by the oxygen mask.

"How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?" Evan leans in, blocking Tommy's view of anything else. He hasn't shaved in a bit, and the hair at his temples looks a little greasy. He's the most gorgeous thing Tommy's ever laid eyes on.

"No pain," Tommy rasps. "M'body's full'f cotton."

Evan smiles a little. "Yeah, they've got you on the good stuff. I can't tell you how many bones you've broken, because it seems like they're still finding them. The doctor did say he'd never seen a pneumothorax quite like yours before, though. He keeps bringing other doctors in to look at your scans. I think a couple of them cancelled their surgeries so they could watch yours yesterday. You're like a celebrity. You've got, like, four tubes in you sucking the excess air out."

For a second, Tommy has no idea what he's talking about. Pneumothorax? How'd he manage that? Lucy's gonna give him shit for the next year.

Then, like a breeze kicking up from the west, it all comes sweeping in. Something starts beeping a little erratically. "Did—did he... he didn't... did... R-Remo...?"

The words are slow and thick, like they have to climb over the broken branches the tree had left behind, but understanding lights up Evan's face almost immediately. He thinks Evan must be holding his hand, because there's pressure on his fingers that feels like it's coming from another room.

"He didn't," Evan says softly, but there's a sparkle of brutal satisfaction in his eyes that Tommy can't look away from. "The helicopter went down like a sack of bricks after you ditched it. It took out the coffee shop in the library. Before you ask: they close at 2:30, so no one had been in there for hours. No one was hurt. Except, well, what's his name."

Tommy closes his eyes and breathes in the canned, almost metallic stuff they're feeding him through the mask. It's so pure, it makes him a little dizzy.

"Good." His sinuses prickle hotly. "Good. That's..."

"Hey, hey, shhh," Evan coos, and Tommy opens his eyes just in time to see Evan press his mouth lushly to the curve of the oxygen mask. Despite whatever they're giving him, Tommy's lips ache with the need to feel that kiss.

"Evan," he whispers.

When he pulls back, Evan's got a wide, almost gleeful grin tugging the corners of his mouth to his ears. He looks like he's about to blow up a Gotham City school bus to try and draw out Batman. Instead, he lifts his left hand.

The lights in the room are low, so the ring on Evan's finger doesn't really glint as brightly as it should, but the light in Evan's eyes is almost blinding.

"Drawer to the right of the microwave, huh?" He laughs a little, like it's bubbling out of him, like he can't stop it. "How long had that been in there?"

It takes a moment for Tommy to pick through the cobwebs in his brain. "Mm... got it... after we did that flight over... hm... Channel Islands."

Evan stares at him, then his bubbly laughter morphs into maniacal cackling.

Tommy glances down at his hands to see if they gave him a button for the pain meds he's on. He's going to dilaudid himself into oblivion.

"That was four months into..." Evan uses their joined hands to wipe away the tears beading on his lashes. "When I asked you to move in, you ran away so fast you left a trail of dust behind you. But you bought an engagement ring four months into dating me?"

"In my defense," Tommy says, suddenly very jealous of Remo for dying a fiery death in the LA Library coffee shop. "I knew... you were it for me. You, on the other hand, had no idea... hm... what you wanted. Asking me... to move in wasn't—it wasn't about me."

Pursing his lips, Evan ducks his head and doesn't deny it, but when he tilts his chin up, the only thing on his face is bare, earnest truth. "I knew I wanted you, Tommy, any way I could have you. I didn't know what that looked like, and not knowing made me... I don't know if you've noticed, but I tend to cling when I panic."

Tommy thinks back over the last month—how every time he showed up on Eddie's doorstep, Evan practically threw himself at Tommy, clutching at him like he was afraid Tommy might go back down the walkway and leave; how getting up to take a piss or grab a Gatorade meant leaving the bed, and the look on Evan's face every time was like watching a car crash—and squeezes Evan's hand. He thinks he does, at least.

"Do you... know what it looks like now?" It takes almost all his strength to get the words out. A wave of exhaustion rolls over him, and he pinwheels a little with it. Kicking his way back to the surface takes concentration.

Evan lifts his hand again. The ring fits his finger perfectly. "It looks like you, about to fall asleep."

Another wave bowls him over, and he fights to keep his eyes open. Lucy's stupid poster blurs like someone's upturned a can of Sprite over it.

"I'll be here when you wake up, and so will half the LAPD and a bunch of people from the FBI. You're the hero of the day," Evan murmurs, and Tommy grumbles a little. "But, hey, Tommy. Before you—how did you know? How'd you know I was it for you?"

Even as he's being pulled down into the dark, he looks up, and he sees the surface roiling, dancing with the light of an old sunrise that couldn't hold a candle to the phenomenon of Evan Buckley's smile.

"Found th' wind," Tommy mumbles, drifting down, down, down. "'s easy. Like breathing."

#i wrote this directly into the tumblr text box like i had nothing to lose and it shows #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan fic #911 spec fic #rc's 911 fics

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the-cosmic-cauldron · 3 months ago

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Neptune In The Houses: Where Does Reality Blur For You

Remember when we were kids, lying in the grass with our eyes closed, feeling weightless as our thoughts drifted into our imagination? Remember the things you envisioned—those dreams that made you think, I can actually do that one day? The excitement that came with the possibilities your mind created.

As you grew older, those visions expanded, evolving from childhood fantasies into grander, more intricate dreams. Your mind became a tantalizing place to escape when reality felt mundane. That’s Neptune. Neptune connects us to the transcendent—something beyond this 3D world, something ethereal, otherworldly, and deeply spiritual. It isn’t always grounded in the here and now, but it brings a sense of wonder and inspiration that we often need.

Today, we’re diving into the house your Neptune falls in to explore where your imagination thrives and where your reality becomes blurred.

Neptune in the 1st House

With Neptune in the first house, your identity is elusive, ever-changing, and difficult to define. Others struggle to understand you, and at times, you may not even fully understand yourself. Yet, this mystery makes you captivating—there’s something mystical, almost hypnotic about you that draws people in, leaving them wanting to know more.

Neptune in the 2nd House

You aren’t someone who fixates on the external world. Instead, your mind is filled with grand visions—dream homes, vast landscapes, oceans, and forests more beautiful than anything found on Earth. You escape into this fantasy, envisioning a life you don’t yet have but deeply desire. Your imagination is so vivid that in your mind, you’ve already built a home, married your soulmate, and made a fortune. However, translating these dreams into reality can be challenging, as you often get lost in your idealized world, neglecting the tangible steps needed to achieve it.

Neptune in the 3rd House

Conversations with you feel otherworldly. You possess deep spiritual insight, and at times, speaking to you can feel like talking to a guru, an enlightened being, or even a prophet. Yet, your words can also be tangled, confusing, or misinterpreted. People may either find you profoundly wise or hopelessly abstract—are you an oracle of hidden truths or just someone lost in a web of words?

Neptune in the 4th House

As a child, you were likely a dreamer—the one gazing out the car window for hours, lost in thought, or retreating into books, movies, and daydreams. Even when physically present, you often felt distant from your family, detached from the dynamics of home life. This placement creates a sense of emotional fog around your upbringing; you may remember your childhood in an idealized, dreamlike way or struggle to truly understand your roots. People close to you might notice this distance, sometimes wondering if you even see them clearly at all.

Neptune in the 5th House

You live for art, beauty, and creativity. Music, dance, film, painting—anything that allows you to escape into a world of imagination captivates you. The harshness of reality often feels unbearable, so you seek solace in aesthetics and pleasure. You’d rather spend your time lost in an artistic trance, painting serene landscapes or listening to ethereal music, than dealing with mundane responsibilities. Reality may seem dull compared to the vibrant world your mind conjures, and as a result, you may struggle to stay grounded in practical matters.

Neptune in the 6th House

Daily life feels burdensome, and routine is something you resist. Traditional jobs bore you, school fails to capture your interest, and the idea of a strict 9-to-5 schedule makes you restless. You crave flexibility, spontaneity, and romanticized alternatives to mundane obligations. Often, you either avoid structure altogether or find ways to modify it to your liking. This placement can also bring difficulties in recognizing health issues—you may not notice when you’re unwell until symptoms become severe. A lack of discipline and a tendency toward escapism can lead to dependency on others for support.

Neptune in the 7th House

Relationships are complicated for you because you tend to see people through a hazy, idealized lens. You often overlook red flags, failing to recognize when someone doesn’t have good intentions. This makes you vulnerable to deception, as you may trust people who secretly resent you or mistake toxic relationships for deep connections. Love, in particular, is highly romanticized here—you fall hard and fast, sometimes without seeing the truth of your partner until reality inevitably crashes down. With Neptune in the 7th, discernment isn’t your strong suit; instead, you are gifted (or cursed) with illusion.

Neptune in the 8th House

This placement pulls you into the depths of the unknown, sometimes so deeply that you lose all sense of reality. You exist in a world of shadows, illusions, and profound transformation, but the scariest part is that you may not even realize how lost you are. You might believe you’re in control when, in truth, you’re drowning in the depths of your own subconscious. Often, you think you’re thriving, only for a sudden crisis to reveal that your reality is much more fragile than you believed. This placement brings an intense connection to hidden truths, but it also makes self-deception dangerously easy.

Neptune in the 9th House

You are deeply spiritual and philosophical, sometimes to the point of wanting to detach completely from the human experience. A part of you longs to embrace life, while another part dreams of escaping—whether through travel, spirituality, or even complete withdrawal from society. Your ideals are vast, but they are often too far-reaching, leading to deep disappointment when the real world fails to meet your expectations. You have immense knowledge of metaphysical and spiritual concepts, making you a natural preacher, mystic, or even a cult leader—your ability to inspire others with your vision is unparalleled.

Neptune in the 10th House

The world sees you through a dreamlike lens—people may idealize you, projecting onto you an image of purity, kindness, and wisdom. However, beneath this illusion, there may be a hidden struggle, a chaos that others fail to recognize. You often feel misunderstood, as if no one truly knows the real you. Career-wise, the traditional workforce is not for you—you need a path that allows for creativity, mysticism, and freedom. Finding the right career is challenging, and you may go through multiple reinventions before discovering your true calling.

Neptune in the 11th House

You exist in two worlds—the real one and the one you create online. The internet, social media, or virtual communities become your escape, allowing you to construct an identity that may not fully align with your real-life self. Friendships also serve as a form of escapism—you may surround yourself with people who share your fantasies, whether through music festivals, role-playing, or immersive subcultures. If not, then you likely find solace in fictional worlds, obsessing over books, anime, or artistic movements that transport you beyond the limitations of everyday life.

Neptune in the 12th House

You are otherworldly. You weren’t meant to be here, yet somehow, you arrived. The physical world often feels overwhelming, harsh, and foreign, making it difficult for you to stay grounded in reality. Logic, structure, and practicality are challenging concepts, and you may retreat into isolation or escape into your own dream world to cope. There’s an ethereal quality to you, as if you are only half-present in this realm while the other half exists in some distant, spiritual plane. Are you an alien soul? A misplaced entity? A wanderer between worlds? No one truly knows—including you.

#neptune #astro notes #astro observations #astroblr #astrology #astro placements #astro community

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allaboutthemoonlight · 1 year ago

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How to Build Self Discipline

Cultivating self-discipline is the way towards personal growth and achieving long-term goals. To me, it’s really all about making choices that honor your well-being and identity.

Understand that self-discipline is about self love and respect

It’s not about punishment or deprivation, but rather caring for yourself enough to make choices that align with your long-term well-being and goals.

You’re showing yourself the respect you deserve by honoring and committing to changes you want to make.

It’s all about recognizing your worth and having the motivation and courage to pursue what’s really best for you, even when it requires a lot of effort and decision-making.

Frame your identity in a way that includes discipline

How we act directly ties to our identities and how we believe we are. If you believe you’re a successful individual, you’ll live a life framed by confidence and determination. If you believe you’re someone who is lazy and unmotivated, you’ll struggle to find the drive to pursue your goals and aspirations.

Gaining discipline is all about acting as the person you believe you are and moving through life in a way that’s consistent with your determined identity. The key here is to try to imagine who you are at your highest self in a disciplined state of mind.

To start this, ask yourself these questions and slowly arrange your life in a way so there’s no distance between who you are now and your highest self:

What does your day look like

What do you eat

What do you wear

What does your week look like

What does your work day look like

What hobbies do you have

What’s your morning and night routine

Who are you surrounded by

What do you say yes and no to

Have systems in your life

I recently wrote a post about habits and mentioned the idea of systems versus goals. Here, I want to delve a bit deeper into that concept within the context of self-discipline.

To me, another way to truly live a disciplined life is to establish starting systems, something that will propel you past hurdles and reduce the friction that accompanies change.

Let’s say you want to improve your eating habits and cultivate discipline in consuming less sugar while incorporating more whole foods into your diet. You could begin by implementing a system of prepping healthy snacks or meals in advance at the start of each week, or however you see fit. By having these snacks readily available, you eliminate the need for decision-making, making it easier to adhere to your goal.

Anything that serves as a reminder or facilitates consistent action toward your desired outcome is a valuable system in your life.

Be okay with not doing something and embrace the mindset of small wins

This may seem paradoxical in the context of developing self-discipline, but being okay with not doing something is crucial. There are times in life when we need tough love and motivation, but there are also moments when compassion is the driving force that propels us forward.

When you don’t follow through with something, whether it’s going for a run or preparing a healthy dinner, it’s important to be okay with it. You don’t need to shame yourself or feel guilty for not taking action because that will only reinforce negative thought patterns, making it harder to create the change you desire.

Consider this: if you miss a planned run and spiral into self-criticism, you’re more likely to avoid running altogether. However, if you approach the situation with understanding and compassion, you’ll be more inclined to try again next time.

This is where small daily victories come into play. Sometimes, all we need is one small step forward to develop a new habit and maintain consistency. Whatever you're striving to improve or change, if it feels daunting, tell yourself, "Just for today, I'll do a 15-minute workout instead of the full hour," or "Just for today, I'll read 5 pages instead of the entire chapter," and celebrate these as small victories. Doing so not only helps you establish new habits but also allows you to acknowledge the progress you've made and the trust you've built within yourself.

—Luna

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strawberrystepmom · 25 days ago

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dante x f!reader. established relationship, reader is a magic anthropologist. featuring lady and nero! this is reader and nero's first meeting. | wc: 3k, reading time: ~15 minutes

“Alright, we’re headed out.”

Dante looks up from his desk, idly leafing through the newspaper to avoid the stack of other things that need his attention. Lady and Nero stand before him, both with arms folded over their chest.

“Where?” He asks, raising a brow.

“The archive.”

He shakes his head.

“No.”

“No?”

Groaning, he tosses the paper aside and slams his palms down on the desk in front of him.

“Why are you going there?”

Lady scoffs, irritated with his time wasting.

“Because we have shit to research, obviously. Why do you care so much?”

He cares because he has been strategically avoiding you and the archive is your domain. How can he explain how much has changed since the last time the two of you saw each other? It has been a couple of months since he stopped coming around and while the ache to see you does just that - strongly, throbbing, every day - he knows it’s for the best.

He can’t seem to stop his blood from running cold at the idea of Lady being the first to introduce you to Nero though, hoping his pleas will make the situation seem dire enough they’ll avoid it altogether.

Placing the newspaper down in front of him, this grown man sighs pathetically and shakes his head. “Please don’t get me in trouble with the boss.”

Lady shrugs at Dante, mouth in a flat line. Nero’s frowning head swivels between them, brows furrowed in confusion.

“The boss — who the hell is that? Does someone else run this place and he has me answerin’ to an asshole like you?”

Dante sighs, leaning back in his chair and gazing up at the ceiling.

You’re going to undoubtedly be mad at him.

“You’ll know soon enough.”

—-----

And know he will, standing outside of a building he has never seen before alongside Lady who behaves as though she frequently visits.

WB Yeats & Brothers, the surprisingly pristine white sign on the front says. The young man reaches for the front door but his companion stops him, shaking her head and pointing toward the narrow alleyway to the left of the building.

“She likes it when we use the side door.”

Of course, Nero thinks. It would kill anyone involved in this new life of mine to do legitimate business.

His booted footsteps echo alongside Lady’s while they walk. Briefly pausing, he tilts his head in bewilderment. “Wait. She? The boss is a woman?”

She stops her own walking and turns to look at him over her shoulder, arms folded across her chest. It’s too cold to stand here in the freezing winter rain when she knows you keep it nice and toasty right inside. Impatient, she nods to indicate they should keep walking if he wants answers.

“Why that surprises you at all is a mystery to me.” Lady starts, face impassive as ever while the two of them finally begin to trudge across the puddle soaked street. “But no, she isn’t your boss or mine. Just Dante’s.”

She doesn’t bother to knock on the door, fishing a leather cord bound key out from beneath her shirt and leaning over enough to unlock it instead. There’s still a bit further until the two of them reach the inner sanctum where you’re almost certainly hidden away and Lady decides how much she should even tell Nero about the nature of your relationship.

“So…he, Dante, loves her.”

What a way to start this explanation. Nero looks at her, bewildered.

“And what I’m telling you right now is that she does too. It’s complex and for another day but all you need to know right now is that she is very nice, just a bit…quirky.”

The young man hisses through his teeth, obviously still confused. Why not just be together if you love each other? Why complicate things so much?

“That’s a lot of information…” he trails off with warm cheeks when his attempts to end the conversation fall flat, Lady continuing on.

“Yeah. They’ve known each other for a long, long time and she’s probably the first woman to sleep with him and never kick him to the curb immediately after.”

He’s no stranger to the complexities of sex and emotions yet learning this information about a woman he has never met feels scandalous. What if you don’t want him to know that? He sighs, struggling to find something to say and is thankfully saved when Lady pushes another metal door open, bringing them face to face with shelves of books stacked as high as the ceiling.

“Wow, this is…” he mutters under his breath, eyes falling from the books to the artifact covered tables. Some are in jars, some are locked, some glow with an eerie otherworldliness though he can’t tell if it’s a spell to seal the power of them or a built-in feature.

“Hey!”

Lady’s greeting doesn’t echo through the packed basement but it makes Nero jump, reaching for his belt instinctively. She rolls her eyes at him and begins to weave through rows in an effort to find you.

Finally, you greet her back.

“Hellooooo out there!”

The woman laughs to herself, looking over her shoulder to ensure Nero is following. He continues to look around the space in awe, still shocked at just how much is packed into one space. There isn’t an empty space on any shelf here. He hears heeled shoes clacking through the rows and finally you peek around the corner, smiling.

“Why did you bring Dante’s lovechild here?”

As flippantly as you let the words leave you, it’s clear that you’ve taken pause from your mad scramble across the library to stop and stare for a moment. Lady and Nero follow suit, standing between the shelves for Transmutation and Travel, Interdimensional.

Narrowing your eyes, you approach cautiously and tilt your head to the side curiously.

“Oh.“ You pat his shoulder and smile sadly, the man standing with his mouth ajar. “No, actually. I dunno whose kid this is but he isn’t Dante’s. His face isn’t sweet enough.”

Hissing like it hurts to come to this conclusion, you turn back toward the shelves and slow your walking to a stroll.

“Unfortunate. I probably would’ve been a decent stepmom.”

Nero shakes his head incredulously. “He’s not…wait, what?”

Before he can begin to ask you to clarify further, you’ve already parted from where Nero and Lady stand. He isn’t quite sure what to make of you although it’s not hard to picture you next to Dante. The two of you seem oddly well matched and that’s just based off of a first impression.

Maybe he should take Lady up on her offer to explain whatever is going on here. She leans toward Nero, speaking out of the corner of her mouth.

“Told you. Quirky.”

You click across the concrete floor, in the direction of another shelf. The guests follow.

“Speaking of, how is he?” You pull one book off the shelf, wrinkle your nose, and replace it while searching for another. “It's been a while since he’s been home, I kind of figured something may have actually gotten him this time.”

Even Nero catches the shake in your voice although you attempt to play it off, flitting between stacks of books almost as tall as you are. There’s no telling what you’re in search of.

“He’s the same as ever but we came here for help without him so you’d actually help.”

Giggling, you kneel down to the bottom shelf of the bookcase in front of you.

“You know I’d help either way.” Bouncing up to your feet, you raise a brow. “So what is it?”

“We need to look at some pages from the creature codex.”

Groaning, you butt your shoulder against hers.

“You always manage to need just that on a day when I don’t have it here. It’s at my place, if you wanna follow me there we check it out?”

Lady sucks her teeth for a second, pondering if she really wants to open the home visit can of worms. It’s midday now and if you guys hurry, you may let them leave before the sun totally sets in case your tendency to wanna play hostess kicks in.

She doesn’t have a choice, needing this info sooner rather than later.

“That’s fine. Oh, and this is Nero.”

She points to the man beside her. He’s sweeter looking than you originally thought, headphones sitting around his neck while he awkwardly stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“It’s nice to meet you, sorry I was weird at first.”

He buries his hands deeper, looking away, just short of burying his face in his shoulder.

“Eh, don’t worry about it, ‘ts nice to meet you too.”

Everything about his life since meeting Dante has been odd, to say the least. What’s one more weirdo?

—-------

Less than a half hour later, the three of you have made the trek to your humble abode.

Nothing feels more strange than being in someone you barely met’s apartment yet Nero takes Lady’s lead and makes himself comfortable sitting at the small circular table sitting in the open space between kitchen and living room.

Somehow though, this space feels so oddly “you” even based off of being acquainted for one hour that it’s kind of fascinating. Maybe it’s the stacks of books or the shoes stacked by the door. There’s even photos across every wall, some of you and Dante, some of you and Lady and Trish and other faces he doesn’t recognize.

A strange pang clenches in his chest. How did all of these people who are like him exist and he had no idea for so long? It may be a band of misfits yet he wants to belong to said band despite himself.

Childish, he thinks. This is work not family. Nero looks at the pictures one last time before turning his head to look at the sunset streaming through the windows.

After standing in the doorway for an extended amount of time after your guests have entered, you finally make your way through the hallway to join them where they’ve naturally shepherded themselves.

“Sorry it’s kind of a mess, I haven’t been here much lately.”

Lady knows that’s not the truth after being left to take a cursory glance around. It definitely appears you’ve been home often, a little pile of blankets and a pillow on the couch with some coffee cups spread out on the table next to it.

“Don’t worry about it. We’re here to learn about hellbeasts, not critique your housekeeping. Besides, we spend all our time around Dante and his clutter.”

You always appreciate her candor, giggling and shrugging. “That’s true. Can I at least get you anything? I probably have some tea or something, I definitely have beer and water.”

“Beer for me I guess. Don’t offer one to the kid, he’s too young.”

Nero scoffs, tips of his ears red when you look up to see him pouting. You assumed he was young anyway, he carries himself with a surliness that only a man who has recently become one would possibly have. Pulling open the fridge, you pull out a carton and bottle, shaking them both over the top of the door.

“Alrighty, orange juice for you then, Nero.”

This is what Lady feared the most before coming here. You’re going to try and schmooze them with snacks and then convince them to stay to listen to your stories and today is not the day for this. The mission they need this information for happens in two days, she can’t afford to lose one to leisure.

She rises from the table, looking around the room. “Where’s the codex? I can grab it and start looking.”

Pouring juice and humming to yourself, you speak back halfway over your shoulder.

“Oh! Sorry, it’s in the living room on the floor.”

Lady walks across the floor, spotting it inches away from what is clearly your makeshift bed. A book that is thousands of years old on the floor amongst a pink lacy bra and a bottle of nail polish. She rolls her eyes and picks up the tome, carrying it back to the table.

“I’m just going to look and then we can go.”

“No! Let me copy them for you in case you can’t remember everything.”

She knows that tendency to accommodate is what Dante likes the most about you but it is, right now, what she likes the least. Pushing the book across the table, you walk to the other end of the room to place the heavy book spine upward on your copier. This feels ridiculous.

Nero sips his juice uncomfortably, still trying to decide what he thinks about, well, all of this. There’s no denying that you are exactly the type of person who would be with Dante, perhaps the only type that could handle him. It confuses him even more that the two of you aren’t technically together or whatever after seeing how you operate - chaotic yet similar.

“Just a couple more minutes and then you guys can go,” you mutter quietly, the mechanical whir of the copier filling the silence.

Lady feels like she should apologize to you since you’re clearly lonely and in need of something resembling your long lost love to fill the space between burying yourself in work and passing out before you can think about it.

“‘kay, all done.” You walk back to the table and pass the copied sheets along with a smile. She smiles back at you, squeezing your shoulder, coming as close to apologetic as she can get right now. Nero rises alongside her, picking up the vibe that it’s go time.

“Thanks for your help, I’ll come back if I need anything else.”

You nod in response, waving them off and slumping down at the kitchen table as soon as you hear the door close.

A few blocks away, they make their way into Devil May Cry to see Dante in the same state they left him in - reading the newspaper in an effort to seem unaffected by whatever went down while they were gone.

“How was it?”

“How is she” is what he’s really asking. Lady shrugs, sitting down across from him.

“Fine. We had to follow her back to her place to get the pages but we have them.”

Leaning over the desk, his business partner looks down at her hands. How can she put this to him gently? You won’t admit you’re struggling without him yet it was evident even in how you walked, stumbling around disconnected from reality, in a disjoined world inside your own head.

“I mean, she has been sleeping on the couch probably the entire time you’ve been hiding.”

Scrubbing his hand over his face, Dante knows a decision has to be made. Is he going to continue this charade of distance?

No. Not if it means you’re sleeping on the couch waiting for him to come home.

“Got an errand to run. Catch you guys later.”

Rising to stand, he grabs his jacket and heads toward the door. Lady chuckles to herself.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow sometime.”

Raising her eyebrows, she turns her attention to the pages you copied for her earlier and flipping through them, finally calling over her shoulder to the youngest member of the team.

“You go home too, Nero. We aren’t going to be working tonight anyway.”

—-------

One moment you’re asleep, fitful but as comfortable as you can get with the laugh track of a sitcom playing quietly through the living room. A book is across your lap, a blanket beneath it to cover you.

In the next, the only arms you could recognize by touch alone are wrapped around your body. They lift you up and cradle your body gently, causing you to rouse and lull your head against a t-shirt clad shoulder.

“What are you doin’ ‘ere?”

Dante looks through the door that separates your bedroom from the living room. The bed is made up, two pillows on each side. You don’t touch it unless he’s around, occupying his space.

“Stopped by to tuck you in, that alright?”

The Moon always manages to show up to put the Sun to bed but he’s been slacking on his duties lately.

“We have much to discuss in the morning.”

You reach up to pull him onto the bed beside you. He’s already unbuckling his belt, letting it jingle while slipping out of his jeans.

“Go take a shower before you get between our sheets,” you warn, though it’s little more than a lighthearted mumble leaving twitching, tired lips.

Our sheets. Our bed. Our home. No matter how much distance he tries to create, he always knows where he belongs yet you keep the metaphorical candle lit in the windowsill in case he forgets, a luxury he takes for granted.

Leaning over, he kisses your forehead softly.

“I’m sorry.”

Your body relaxes under his lips, the smell of him making your heart pound in your chest. If you loved him less, maybe you’d be angrier and let your teeth gnash. Instead you present a smile, soft and tired, eyes hardly opened yet fingers instinctively knowing where his hair falls over his forehead and how to push the strands back from his face.

“Don’t worry about it, just get back here soon.” You open your eyes fully, smile falling into something a little more subdued. “I missed you.”

“Then I shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer,” he suggests, peeling back the bedding. You stop him by placing your hand over his.

“Shower first.”

He frowns, leaning in to kiss your forehead again.

“Without you?”

You nod, shutting your eyes again, limply lifting your arm and pointing.

“That’s your punishment, now go.”

Of all the punishments he’s ever had this has to be the least harsh so he slides off of the bed with a groan, disrobing on the way to the shower, leaving a trail of socks and a shirt in his wake.

He must admit after he steps beneath warm running water, knowing he’ll have you slipping between his arms soon enough, that it is good to be home.

#dante x reader #dante x you #dante sparda x reader #dante sparda x you #dmc x you #dmc x reader #danken #canon au #kendall writes

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ok8oriska · 5 months ago

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what's it going to take

remus lupin x reader | remus wants you back

If you’re being honest, this party is a total drag.

Your friends dragged you out tonight because you needed “fresh air”. Like you’re getting any in here. It’s a room full of people, and you’re pretty sure Frank and some of the boys are smoking pot down the hall.

You have half a mind to join them, desperate for a distraction. But being inebriated would cause you to lose all sense of yourself, and the last thing you want right now is to make a scene. You start rethinking all that nonsense when you catch sight of Remus on the couch with Emmeline.

Your lovely boy. Well, he’s not yours anymore, he made sure of that. He’s sitting there leaning in so he can talk into her ear. He’s flirtatious by nature so your stomach doesn’t drop until she laughs and moves her hand to his thigh. He catches you staring.

That’s when you decide you need air, heading outside to catch your breath. You thought what you guys had had was once in a lifetime, and maybe it was. Maybe that’s why it was so fleeting. Your heart sinks. You’re about to leave altogether when someone comes outside to join you.

Probably Sirius for a smoke, you think, until you turn around and there he is. Remus.

“You alright?” He asks as if this whole situation is nonchalant.

“Just gearing up to head out,” you reply. He nods.

“It’s nice to-“

“Can I ask you something personal?” you interject. You decide to rip the band-aid off.

He nods, “Of course.”

“How did you move on from me so quickly?” You can’t look at him when you say it, feeling stupid the second the words leave your mouth.

“What are you talking about?” He seems confused, but you can’t tell if it's just an act to avoid hurting your feelings or if he’s being genuine.

“I only want to know because maybe whatever you did will work for me, too,” you continue, meeting his incredulous gaze.

“Who said anything about me being over you?” he asks, and your throat dries out.

You sputter, “You just seem to be moved on, is all.”

“Is this about Emmeline? She’s just a friend; she gets a little handsy when she’s had a drink or two, but it’s all friendly,” he insists.

“Remus, you don’t have to defend yourself. You broke up with me, remember? It’s fine, I just,” you sigh. “I can’t keep loving you if we’re over.”

Remus crossed his arms, “ Well maybe I don’t want to be over.”

“What?”

“I want to be with you.”

You’re frustrated now. Dizzy from the whiplash, “Then why did you break up with me?”

“I wasn’t thinking it just,” he pauses, dropping his gaze, “I just got overwhelmed by the prospect of my heart being in your hands. I’ve never given someone that much control before.”

“Well, my heart was in your hands, too, did you ever think of that?” you retort, sharp as a knife.

“I know now, dove, I was unfair to you, and I’m sorry, but don’t think that I ever stopped loving you for a second,” he looks up, eyes boring into yours.

“Well, fuck,” you say, throwing your hands up. “That just makes it all better then.”

He chuckles lightly against his better judgment. If this were a movie, he’d yell at the screen, telling you you deserve better. “Never go back,” he’d shout. But instead, he’s standing in front of you about ready to get on his knees and beg.

“Remus,” you start, “Don’t fuck around with me.”

“I’m not. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my entire life.”

You sigh. “I don’t know if I can go back to how things were.”

He takes a step closer to you, impossibly so, his hands finding purchase on your biceps. “I’m willing to be yours in any way that you’ll have me.”

You drop your head to his chest, groaning. “Don’t get all lovey-dovey on me now.”

He laughs, and you feel it in your skull. “You bring out the worst in me.”

#marauders #marauders x y/n #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #x reader #harry potter #marauders x reader #marauders x you #ok8oriska #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus x reader #x you #x you fluff #fluff #the marauders #x y/n #x y/n fluff #x reader fluff

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ekingston · 4 months ago

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also on ao3.

“Would you stop fondling my boobs?” Lena hisses, watching as a man nearly wanders into traffic staring at what looks like Lena Luthor, elbow-deep in her own cleavage. He swerves, promptly face-planting into a lamp post when he sees Supergirl herself slap Lena’s hand away. “We’re in public,” Lena reminds her.

“Ouch,” Kara yelps. “Gentle!”

“Sorry,” Lena says. But she only feels a little bad, because at least Kara is now cradling her arm instead of getting Lena arrested for indecent exposure.

Kara is still squirming when Lena checks them in, the receptionist beaming at her in a way Lena has never been beamed at before. Dr. Sattler’s ready for them. Kara gives Lena a last, panicked look, and then she takes the therapist’s offered hand and introduces herself.

“Lena Luthor,” Kara tells Dr. Sattler with a lopsided grin. “Good to meet you.”

“And Supergirl,” Dr. Sattler says, turning to Lena, her gaze briefly flitting down at the S on Lena’s chest. “How wonderful you managed to finally come in.”

Kara flops down onto the couch with a grateful sigh, the skirt of her dress gapping immodestly as she kicks off Lena’s heels. Lena nudges her legs to close them, annoyed. The injustice of Kara getting to act as if she wants to be here. As if she hasn’t been avoiding this visit for months.

(Do we really need to do this? Kara had asked Lena just this morning. Kara’s gaze had been a cross-eyed, sparkling green as Lena applied her eyeliner with a trembling, freckled hand.

Lena had growled in response, knowing even the barest bit of unintentional pressure could blind her for life. We’re not going to cancel just because we’re wearing each other’s bodies, Kara. Hold still.

I bet you’d look good with an eyepatch, Kara had breathed, after which Lena had given up on the endeavor altogether.)

“Your work must keep you busy,” the therapist says magnanimously.

Lena huffs out a laugh. “You can say that again.” And when the Dr. looks at her, curious, “Being a superhero and all that. Always off saving the world!”

“That goes for both of us,” Kara points out. “You—I—don’t even make it to bed, most nights.” And then, softer, “Even when you tell me you’ll wait up.”

“I wish I wouldn’t.” Lena turns to the therapist and explains, “I eat when I’m bored. She comes home to a bed full of crumbs. Who wants to have sex when the sheets are littered with bits of Captain Crunch?”

Dr. Sattler opens her mouth to answer, but Kara doesn’t give her the chance. “Maybe I could make an effort not to be such a neat freak,” she pouts.

Lena’s eyes flash. “Maybe I could make an effort to wash my hands after I use the bathroom,” she snaps back.

Kara sits up. “You do!” she shouts. “You’re just quick about it!”

Lena sighs. “The laws of nature don’t work that way, darling.”

Kara makes a face Lena vows never to make again if she ever gets her body back. “I leave my hair in the shower.”

Lena snorts. “I wash it down the drain. That’s worse.”

“But you fix it!” Kara looks at her with Lena's own wide, pleading eyes. “That’s how—how you show love. By fixing things.”

“Wrong,” Lena flings back. “I break them, so I can feel needed.”

Kara blinks at her, looking hurt.

“That’s.” Dr. Sattler pauses for a moment. “Some very impressive self-reflection,” she decides.

Lena smiles at her, glad they’re getting somewhere.

Kara looks from the therapist to Lena, her blood red lips—easier than eyeliner—pinching together with uncanny chagrin. “I faked my own kidnapping to get out of her family’s Thanksgiving,” she accuses darkly.

Lena sniffs. “I have a codependent relationship with my sister.”

Kara gasps. Dr. Sattler’s eyes widen. Lena arches an eyebrow with considerable effort.

“Oh yeah?” Kara sputters. “Well,” she flails, her nostrils flaring. “You—" she takes a deep breath. "I have mommy issues.”

Oh, fuck no. That's too far. “You do not,” Lena squawks.

"No?" Kara cocks her jaw in a way that makes Lena feel, for the first time, a little sorry for the men she’s similarly stared down. “Let’s find out,” Kara says with the smallest of smirks, and then she retrieves, horribly, from Lena’s purse, Lena’s phone.

“You wouldn’t,” Lena whispers, her heart stopping.

Kara jumps up with surprising agility, dancing out of Lena’s reach. “This’ll just take a second,” she promises Dr. Sattler. “Hello? Mother?”

Lena scrambles over to the other end of the couch, practically throwing herself across the room in an effort to get to Kara.

“No reason,” Kara croons into the phone, grinning as she maneuvers herself away from Lena’s grasp. An elaborately painted and unfortunately placed vase isn’t so lucky. “Just calling to say hey,” Kara says. “It’s been a while, huh?”

Lena really should have taken Kara up on her offer to help Lena master her power of flight. “Don’t make me hurt you,” she yells.

“It is!” Kara sing-songs. “Still going strong, yup. Which is why I called! We were wondering—”

“Don’t you dare,” Lena hisses, clawing for Kara’s shoulder and exploding a couch cushion instead.

“—how would you feel about coming to our wedding?”

Lena freezes, flecks of stuffing falling around them like snow.

“Excellent!” Kara chirps. “We'll see you there.”

Dr. Sattler clears her throat. “I don’t think you two have anything to worry about,” she says. “Your communication style is—unique, but obviously effective.”

Kara beams at her as they're leaving, wearing a deeply pleased expression Lena didn’t even think her face was capable of making. “You really should start wearing more comfortable bras,” she says, rolling her shoulders. “Also maybe take up yoga.”

Lena hums. “You’ve never had any complaints before.”

Kara stops and stares at her, aghast. "Is that what I look like when I'm coming on to you?"

Lena grins at her. "Why do you think I'm marrying you?"

Kara giggles.

- - -

This was written for the multi fandom (and original!) flash fiction challenge, using the prompts ‘established relationship’, ‘at a therapist’s office’, ‘body swap’ and ‘an eyepatch’. You should give it a whirl!

#am i just using this challenge as an excuse to create more covers? maybe #i’ve been trying to do a body swap for years and now there’s. this #which uses exactly zero of any of the concepts i came up with previously #guess there will have to be another 🤷‍♀️#fic by ekingston #multi fandom (and original!) flash fiction challenge #supercorp fan fic

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midnightsslut · 1 year ago

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religion is one of the most prominent recurring themes on the album, and it has been present in some capacity for quite a few records now. taylor previously compared love to religion: her saving grace, her belief system, and a fated divine intervention (false god, cornelia street, and cruel summer are the best examples of this). ‘sacred new beginnings that became my religion’ and ‘we’d still worship this love even if it’s a false god’ are two of the defining statements about her philosophy on the lover album.

taylor doesn’t want to leave all of that behind on ttpd, at least not at the beginning. the first supernatural force she mentions is the spaceship on down bad, which she compares to a skylight of freedom in the epilogue. *something* has finally come to save her from her life of suffering. she doesn’t care if it’s a force of good at first; if anything, she’s just fine being taken away by aliens. she views this man as her destiny. it isn’t until guilty as sin? that taylor starts to ponder the moral implications of what she’s doing. is she guilty as sin for wanting to leave her previous religion and relationship behind? she comes to the conclusion that, even if she rolls the stone away and gets resurrected/redeemed, she cannot avoid the fallout. she is okay with the thought of having to wait, as long as both lovers vow to be together forever, just as she once did with someone else in false god. ‘I choose you and me religiously’ finishes the bridge of the song in a direct callback to cornelia street.

the next mention of religion has murkier imagery. she claims that she does not need the Lord’s help to save this man. she sees the halo that he has, and she can fix him herself. now that she feels free of her prior cage, she isn’t looking for divine intervention anymore. she wants control. she is their route to salvation.

when the relationship falls apart, she retreats back into the position of a believer rather than a divine figure. she compares him to a Holy Ghost who promised to save her and take her to heaven. instead, she is in hell in every sense of the word: she’s down bad and feels guilty for digging up the grave. he was a jehovah’s witness who promised that she could break free of the cage imposed by love without changing her religion altogether; she would’ve just had to switch denominations. she could still have a marriage and kids! she could still have a blue tortured poet! the man was different, but not the dreams they had together. the story of the first part of the album ends here. her faith has been broken, and she has only found any semblance of sanity by refusing to mention these belief systems altogether.

side b/the anthology blends the christian imagery of side a with goddesses, sorcerers, and prophecies. she bargains with these powers to let her have the future she wants (the prophecy). she doesn’t sound like someone believing in salvation. if anything, she feels cursed. she decides that the concept of divinely ordained timing will never work in certain relationships (‘the goddess of timing once found us beguiling / she said she was trying / peter, was she lying?’). this disdain extends onto her perception of other people’s faith (‘bet they never spared a prayer for my soul’). she does position herself as a prophet in cassandra, but even then, she admits that the role has hurt her. perhaps the pain in thank you aimee was meant to be, or perhaps she was just strong enough to build a legacy in spite of it, boulder by boulder. is she a martyr? does she want to be? or did she save herself?

the only real love song on this half of the album makes no mention of fate or any divine forces. it wasn’t meant to be. it’s not a supernatural invisible string or lightning in a bottle. she is just in love.

the album ends with the manuscript, which revisits an old story of a defining, formative heartbreak. as she sings ‘at last, she knew what the agony had been for’ while describing the legacy of her writing, she seems to revert to thinking about the purpose of trauma. the only exception is that, in this case, she is the one who found meaning in her pain by turning it into a manuscript. writing is her belief system now, and she proselytizes by telling her stories and thus giving up the manuscript.

ultimately, her belief in destiny has chewed her up and spat her out. she so desperately clung to her existing belief systems that she was fooled by a conman, which left her feeling cursed. religion is supposed to be with someone even in their darkest moments, but the album explains that taylor often felt abandoned. the only constant in her life was, well, herself. she’ll be okay, but her pen will be her saving grace.

#idk why I wrote this essay but it needed to be said #this could be taken further by actually unpacking each mention of religion on midnights and lover but i ain’t doing all that #the manuscript #cassandra #Cornelia street #false god #cruel summer #lover #the prophecy #the smallest man who ever lived #but daddy I love him #I can fix him #guilty as sin #ttpd #thank you Aimee #peter

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asapeveryday · 1 year ago

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IN THE MIRROR

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Warnings: mirror sex (strap), mention of self image issues

Summary: you’re feeling insecure, but Paige wants you to see what she sees.

A/n: thanku to the anon who requested this 😛 this is a short one, sorry! Been working thru some writers block.

“LOOK IN FRONT OF YOU.” She says, one hand leaving your waist and gently finding your jaw, moving your gaze towards the glass mounted on your wall.

It’s a decent piece, you remember going out to buy a mirror for your apartment and coming across this one. Your friends always loved to take pictures in front of it, but as time went on you found yourself avoiding your reflection altogether. Sometimes it was better that way.

Still, Paige wouldn’t let that slide. She just couldn’t wrap her head around your doubts about your appearance.

“Don’t you get it?” She grumbles, one of her fingers circling your lips before entering your mouth, to which you eagerly suck. You’re on your hands and knees in front of the mirror, and Paige is kneeling behind you. Her length is just teasing your entrance. “You’re so pretty.”

You can’t help but cringe at her compliment. There’s no doubt in your mind that it’s genuine, but it had been so hard to agree with her words these days. Maybe something about the weather, the workload at school, the thousands of girls in your girlfriends comment sections, the mirror that always reflects something unworthy.

“Shut up.” You mumble under your breath before letting out a gasp at her grip. Her hands once soft against your jaw now manhandling your face, forcing you to stare dead at your reflection.

“Do you see anything wrong here?” Paige whispers, not letting you answer and instead physically shaking your head no. “Cus I don’t.” And with those last words she enters you, smooth and natural from your arousal. You let out a hum at the feeling of Paige filling you up and she cracks a smile.

“I love that face.” She utters, leaning over your back. Her hand leaves your face and her arms are now on either side of you, caging you under her. This position only eases her in further, causing you to arch your back.

Her head is by the crook of your neck, the sight of her blue eyes watching you in the mirror make you squirm.

“It’s all I think about.” She adds, her breath fanning your ear. She’s not moving despite the arch of your back just aching for friction.

“Please, P.” You whine, moving your hips.

“Don’t move.” She says, dangerously curt. You obey her with much reluctance simply because her expression is so serious.

“I want you to see what I see.” Paige mumbles, tongue darting out to lick her lips. “I don’t know how I can do that though.”

She rises up, releasing you from her cage before her hands find the bone of your hip. Her strap slips out for a moment before her hips snap and it fills you again, inciting a moan from your mouth. “All I can say is—” she starts, beginning to find a rhythm against your body. “—that you’re perfect.”

“Just stop.” You groan; a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. Her words both rile you up and make you want to hide.

“Can’t. Even if I wanted to.” She grins. You look up to meet your reflection and are surprised to not be disappointed.

With every thrust from the blonde behind you your body moves almost mesmerizingly. Your hair is tousled just right, your lips dawn a freshly kissed plump. The sight of her hands strong on your skin as if she’d rather die then let go, the vision of her eyebrows furrowed as her eyes dart from your fucked-out expression to her purple strap being enveloped by your pussy, it’s something that will be burned into your memory forever.

“See it?” She huffs, bucking into you and relishing at your hooked expression. “D’you see why I think you’re perfect?”

“I see it.” You manage to whine out, the sensation engulfing you fully. It’s true, what the mirror portrays is perfect. You and her together. Her absolutely folding at the sight of you, at the feeling of your walls sucking her in, at your glassy eyes glued to the reflection, head tilted just right, ass moving with every motion of Paige’s hips.

“Good.” She says, biting her lip as her eyes meet yours in the mirror.

“Now turn around.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader #rpf #smut #uconn women’s basketball #paige buckets #mirror #paige bueckers x reader smut #paige smut #wlw smut #wlw #wlw ns/fw #ns/fw

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rhiannonsknife · 7 months ago

Text

── ❆ DAY 14: merry christmas, please don’t call.

— summary: oh golden girl, don’t act like you were kind. you were mine but you were awful every time.

— warning: angst. hurt/no comfort. internalized homophobia. implied cheating. mean!jackie.

the tires crunch against the snow as you pull up a few houses down the road from the taylors’ home. it’s one of the many habits that you’ve picked up on, without even noticing: you only park that far to avoid being seen. to avoid questions that have never even been asked. you still do it, even right now, when there’s no one around who could be watching at all. you’re just so used to hiding yourself that you’ve become invisible all on your own.

your hands linger on the steering wheel for another long moment, gripping it tightly as your breath fogs up the windshield. it’s not too late to leave, to forget this whole thing and go back home. you haven’t even left the car yet and you already know that this is a mistake.

you’ve run this moment over and over in your mind; how it might go, what she might say…but none of the imaginary possible outcomes feel good. still, the gift sits on the passenger seat, neatly wrapped and waiting.

you do think about leaving, then. you think about putting the car in reverse and flee the whole scene, like you’d never been there at all. it would certainly spare you the otherwise inevitable headache. but something keeps you there, frozen in place. maybe it’s that stupid hope that jackie will open the door. that she will see the present, and magically realize that what you have together is worth more than this secrecy and distance.

or maybe it’s just the stubborn need to see her, even if it’s only for a few minutes.

and then you see them. not her. them.

jackie’s car pulls into the driveway, the headlights slicing through the falling snow, and your chest tightens as you catch sight of her. instinctively, even though you’re at a safe distance, you duck your head just the slightest bit. yet another habit. you internally curse yourself for becoming a ghost in her presence all over again, and watch the scene unfold.

jackie steps out, laughing as her parents usher her inside, their arms wrapped warmly around her. the sound of their voices is muffled through the windows and the snow, but the joy is unmistakable, looking effortless from the outside. and there’s jeff: stepping out after her and holding jackie’s hand like he belongs there, his other arm draped protectively around her shoulders.

your stomach drops.

jackie looks happy from an outside perspective. or at least, she’s pretending to be. her smile is bright enough to fool anyone who doesn’t know her the way you do. there’s a distance in her eyes, a subtle stiffness in the way she lets jeff hold her. he must miss it altogether, whereas her parents appreciate the perfect picture jackie is portraying. the taylors care more for their reputation than they do for their daughter.

you watch as they disappear into the house, the warm glow of christmas lights spilling out onto the porch as the door shuts behind them. for a moment, the world feels silent, save for the snowflakes pattering softly against your windshield.

your fingers loosen on the wheel once they’re out of view, instead wiping the fogged-up glass with your sleeve. you feel like an intruder, watching her life from the outside. a life where she laughs and holds jeff’s instead of yours, like it’s nothing. a life where you don’t even exist to begin with.

it’s pathetic to be here at all. and you still don’t have it in you to drive off.

you can see their silhouettes moving behind the curtains from where you’re sitting. the gift on your passenger seat suddenly feels stupid. childish, even. what had you been thinking?

still, your feet move before your brain can comprehend what is going on: you step out into the cold, the snow crunching underfoot, and approach the large house. the glow of the christmas lights feels harsh now, as you step closer, and every breath you take clouds the air in front of you until you’ve reached the doorsteps.

you take a moment to catch your breath, staring at the wreath hanging on the door. it’s perfect, of course. red ribbon tied just so, gold accents gleaming in the glow of the porch lights. everything about jackie’s life seems to must appear fucking perfect.

you try to swallow the lump in your throat as you reach out. your hand hesitates on the doorbell, trembling slightly as you finally press it.

for a moment, all you can hear is your heartbeat pounding in your ears. for a moment, you hope no one heard at all. then the door opens.

jackie stands behind it, dressed in a cozy, crème colored sweater and a matching skirt and with her hair falling over one shoulder neatly. she blinks in surprise when she sees you, her perfectly set smile dropping. her gaze darts to the gift in your hands, then back to your face.

“what are you doing here?” she finally hisses, her voice quiet but sharp enough to sting.

you swallow hard. what are you doing here? “i just…i wanted to give you this” you hold out the present weakly. “i thought you might like it”

jackie doesn’t make any attempts to reach for it. instead, she glances over her shoulder, as if checking to see if anyone’s watching. apparently, only being seen with you is shameful already. the obvious hesitation in her movement feels like a dagger to your chest.

“you shouldn’t be here”

you’re still holding out your arm with the present, frozen in place as she speaks.

“it’s just-“

“look,” jackie interrupts, stepping outside and pulling the door closed behind her. “you can’t just…show up here. do you have any idea what this looks like? what if my parents saw you? what if jeff-”

“jeff,” you scoff, bitterness seeping into your tone. “right. i forgot i’m not supposed to exist when he’s around”

jackie’s jaw tightens. “that’s not fair” she says.

“isn’t it?” the words spill out before you can stop them. “jackie, i’ve done everything you’ve asked. i’ve kept this…us, a secret because i thought it’s what you needed. and all i ever get back is-“

“don’t,” she cuts you off, her voice firm but audibly wavering at the edges. her eyes dart away from yours, focusing on a patch of snow by your feet. “don’t say that”

“why not?” you demand. “this whole thing it’s just- it’s bullshit! i can’t keep pretending that-“

“it’s not real!” jackie snaps suddenly. her eyes meet yours now, shining with a mix of frustration and that one thing she’s too afraid to name. “whatever this is” she lifts her arms from where she’s been hugging them to her chest “it’s not real. it can’t be. you need to stop thinking it is!”

her words hit you like a slap to the face. for a moment, all you can do is stare right at her. “jackie-“

“jeff is my boyfriend” she goes on, careless about how you feel. “he’s got every right to be here. you- you’re the one who shouldn’t just show up!”

“i wasn’t trying to cause any trouble” you finally manage. your voice comes out so much weaker than you’d like. “i just thought-“

“you thought what?” jackie cuts in harshly. that’s the thing with her: she’ll be sweet and tame as long as she’s got you exactly where she wants you, where she has the upper hand of the situation. the moment things are out of her control, this is how she gets. “that you could just show up here, hand me a gift and things would be- what? normal?”

the lump in your throat grows heavier with every word she spits at you.

“you don’t understand. i am not…i can’t-“ she can’t even make herself say it. usually, at least she can tell you that much: a haste assurance that she’s not gay, as she’s getting dressed again. a thing she always says, more to herself than to you. “i won’t ruin everything just because you think this is something more than what it actually is”

somehow, that hurts more than a simple ‘i’m not gay’. the words hit you like a punch to the gut and for a moment, you can just stand and stare at her.

jackie only shakes her head and slowly starts stepping back. “i don’t know what you want from me” she says, finally, the christmas lights casting a light on her from behind. “but you shouldn’t have come here. you shouldn’t have made this harder. please. just…go”

the gift box feels like dead weight in your hands as you take a shaky step back, the cold seeping into your bones. jackie doesn’t wait for you to turn around before slipping back towards the door. she does glance back at you once, over her shoulder, mumbling: “merry christmas, y/n. don’t call”

and with that, the door closes, leaving you standing on the snow-dusted porch, the weight of the gift still in your hands.

you stand there for a moment, staring at the door that she shuts on your face, hoping against all odds that she might open it again, that jackie might say something, anything, to take it all back.

she doesn’t.

as the snow falls heavier around you, you force yourself to turn away. you bite your tongue and, instead of just smashing the present against the sidewalk like you desperately want to, you put it down on the porch steps before hastily rushing back to your car.

you slide into the driver’s seat, glancing back once, in spite of yourself. through the frosted window, you can see jackie laughing stiffly with her family, jeff’s arm draped possessively over her shoulders.

she looks happy, pretending again.

a bitter laugh escapes you, followed instantly by the tears you’ve been holding since the moment she opened the door. ‘don’t call’ she’d said. jackie doesn’t want this. she doesn’t want you. not here, not now, and maybe not ever.

for the first time, you genuinely let yourself hate her for it.

inside she waits with her back against the door for a long moment, listening to the faint sound of your car driving off. only when she can no longer hear the noise of the engine, does jackie dare to breathe. her nails dig into the sleeves of her sweater as she makes her way back to the living room.

her parents’ laughter filters through from the space, mingling with the faint sound of christmas music playing from the stereo. jeff is sprawled on the couch, looking like he belongs here more than she does.

“everything okay?” he asks, glancing up at her. his brow furrows briefly, but his tone is light, casual.

jackie nods quickly, smoothing her hands down her sweater. “yeah, just someone at the wrong house,” she lies, her voice tight. jeff doesn’t push, just grins as he stretches out an arm. “come here. we’re watching a christmas movie next”

jackie forces a smile and lets him pull her down beside him, settling into the crook of his arm as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. she keeps her gaze on the flickering lights of the christmas tree, nodding and murmuring polite responses when her mom asks if she’s having a nice time.

her mind keeps wandering anyway. back to you. to the way your expression had crumpled when she’d told you to leave. jackie shouldn’t care. it was only ever supposed to be a causal hookup. nothing serious, nothing that she should care about at all.

she shifts uncomfortably, and her gaze flickers toward the window. it’s still snowing outside, the porch almost entirely covered in it and…that’s when she sees it. the faint glint of something tucked against the corner, just barely visible through the thick layer of snow.

“be right back,” jackie mutters, slipping out of jeff’s grasp before he can say anything.

she opens the door quietly, the cold biting at her face, and there it is: the small, carefully wrapped box sitting on the doorstep. she glances around instinctively, as if you might still be there. but the driveway is empty, the faint tire tracks from your car already half-covered by fresh snow.

jackie picks up the gift, her hands trembling slightly as she shuts the door behind her. she shouldn’t open it, she shouldn’t even keep it.

but she does.

back in her room later that night, while jeff sleeps soundly, jackie sits cross-legged on her bed, the present resting in her lap. she unties the ribbon with car , the paper crinkling softly in the stillness. inside is a small, velvet box. her breath catches as she opens it, revealing a delicate gold charm necklace resting against the fabric. her heart skips. it’s simple, but undeniably beautiful. It’s so you.

jackie picks it up, careful so that the torn paper won’t make too much noise, and lets the little heart charm dangle from her fingers. the gold catches in the dim light of her room and it feels warm against her skin. a small card is nestled in the box too, which she quickly picks up.

‘to jackie. you deserve something that’s really yours this year. merry christmas’, then signed off with your initials. jackie fastens the necklace around her neck, the little heart resting between her collarbones. she takes a moment to look at herself in the mirror, at the glint of gold, and it feels so different from the gifts she received earlier: the ones picked out by her parents, or jeff’s thoughtless one. this feels real. personal.

she touches the charm lightly. when she turns back toward the bed, she sees jeff sprawled there, his arm half-extended toward her even in sleep. the ache in her chest deepens, and she slips under the covers, her back to him, one hand still curled protectively around the golden heart.

jackie presses her lips together, blinking rapidly as she sets the box aside and buries her face in her hands. she doesn’t cry, not exactly, but her shoulders shake with the effort of holding it all in.

#˙ ❆ ̟ !! ─ christmas works #jackie taylor #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x female reader #jackie taylor x fem!reader #jackie taylor x you #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x female reader #yellowjackets x you

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glasvera · 5 months ago

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Golden Morphine

Adam Warlock x Fem!Reader

Description: You're checking in with Adam to make sure your injuries are healing well... and this time, his healing has an altogether different effect on you.

Warnings: Spicy but no smut (yet)

A/N: I'm in my Adam Warlock era. My Golden Boy Arc. I am so down bad for this man it is insane. I'm writing nasty things about him instead of getting him to Lord proficiency on Marvel Rivals. I need professional help.

... and yes I have a Part 2 planned.

Word Count: 2.2k

“You are sure this is alright?” he asks tentatively while his hands hover just millimeters above your skin. His palms glow with a faint golden light.

A lilting giggle sounds in your throat as you nod, perhaps, for the tenth time in the past five minutes. His concern was endearing, but he really needn't ask quite so frequently.

You had asked him to check up on some recovering injuries you had to make sure everything was alright; after all, you had broken several bones, and you definitely didn't let them rest as much as you probably should have. Unfortunately for the flustered man standing behind you, many of those bones included ribs and you had some nasty contusions on your back. Perhaps he could have just snapped his fingers and healed you good as new, but the two of you had fallen into a rhythm of intimate understanding. You had thought nothing of it when you had approached him before, and you thought nothing of it this time as well.

He had come to enjoy watching your wounds close and mend beneath his ministrations, and you had come to enjoy the feeling of it. When those golden tendrils pour into you, you're filled with a surge of what can only be described as euphoria. Golden morphine.

It was delicious. It was addictive.

So, here you sit with your back to him, having lifted your shirt up so that it hangs loosely around your neck and over your chest. This was the reason for his constant requests for reassurance. Seeing your skin bared before him like this, the warmth emanating beneath his touch, felt like the ultimate sin. And with the way you sigh with each healing wave… he could feel the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. If only you knew what you did to him.

“It's fine, Adam. Besides, I thought you liked to watch?” you teased gently, shooting him a cheeky grin over your shoulder.

You could have sworn his cheeks had turned a darker shade of gold… or bronze, perhaps? He certainly couldn't seem to look you in the eye.

“Forgive me, it's just…”

“What? Is it that bad? How many different shades of purple are there back there?” you tease again, shaking your head slightly.

“N-No! I simply feel as if I… as if I shouldn't look,” he admits meekly.

That’s what’s bothering him? You nearly roll your eyes. With no small amount of discomfort and a few grunts, you scoot yourself around to better face him. Bad idea. He immediately covers his face to avoid looking upon your chest, even if it is mostly covered by your rolled up shirt.

“Please! I do not-!”

“Adam! How many times have you healed me? How many times have you seen my skin?” you interrupt him, at this point slightly annoyed both by his chivalrous stubbornness and the pain you'd suffered to face him properly. You pout with your bottom lip jutting out towards him.

“But you are-!”

He gestures broadly to your bare top half with his free hand, still doing his best not to look at you directly. You catch that hand mid-movement and lock his fingers with your own.

“Adam,” you begin again, this time softer, and he can't help but pause his worries to hang onto your every word. You give his hand a squeeze. “Feel that? It's just skin. And this…”

You guide his hand to rest on your waist, and you could have sworn he stopped breathing. For a brief moment, you admire the contrast of his golden flesh against yours.

“...is just more skin,” you finish, your voice soft and airy. Even you have to admit that your mouth feels a bit dry at the touch despite being the one to initiate it.

One of his white gold eyes peeks between his fingers and stares intently at where your hands lay. His breathing is ragged now, and you can feel the way his hand trembles beneath yours. Long moments pass in silence between the two of you. Languid strokes of your thumb soothe the back of his hand, and finally, the trembling lessens. But it does little to lessen the sparks igniting in this moment.

“Soft…” he breathes out. It brings an almost relieved smile to your lips and a warmth to your cheeks.

“But still skin. And I promise I don't mind you looking at me, or touching me for that matter. It's just a part of the healing process, right?” you say reassuringly. There's something so tender in your words, and his hand falls from his face as his gaze returns to your face. Those chiseled features soften. Inwardly, he curses himself for being so easily affected by so much as a glance from you.

“O-Of course. Forgive me,” he murmurs bashfully. Then, his brows knit together in confusion, and he chews pensively on his lip.

“You… like this?” he asks, blinking before those milky white orbs meet your gaze. “It radiates off of you. A warmth. An affection.”

Oh. Your blush deepens, though it was no secret in the end, you suppose.

“I do,” you affirm. “I like being with you. And I like being taken care of, I suppose,” you add with a soft titter.

You both avoid each other’s gazes then, and an even thicker silence pervades the space around you. For a moment, you fear you've said too much. Have you finally gone too far? It's always been different with Adam; you can't deny that. But true feelings are so often felt and so rarely spoken between you. You worry that you've broken some unspoken pact, ruined the intimacy you've allowed yourselves this long.

“That is… good,” he states simply, finally, taking a deep breath between words.

Now it’s your turn to be surprised as your eyes flash up to meet his.

“It is…?” you ask hesitantly, the words a mere whisper on your lips.

Adam’s head tilts to the side, puzzled by you once more. A few locks of golden hair droop unceremoniously onto his forehead.

“Should it not be?”

You blink a few times and study his face, searching for any hint of uncertainty. Instead, you only find his apprehensive gaze as he waits for you to answer. The corner of your lip twitches into a smile, and you exhale a small huff through your nose.

“No, no, it’s fine. I was just surprised,” you respond with a hint of relief in your voice. Your hand travels up his arm, leaving his on your waist as your fingertips dance along his bicep. His eyes flicker down to watch, seemingly enraptured. His lips part in anticipation as you lean in closer.

“Now, do you mind finishing what you started…?” you breathe as your hand comes to rest on his chest, tracing the delicate lines that seemed to be engraved into his skin.

An audible gulp sounds in his throat as his eyes continue to follow your hand. Finally, they look back up to yours. “What… what I started?”

You hadn’t intended to tease him, not really, but the way he gazes at you with bated breath makes it quite the tempting prospect. Another time, perhaps.

“Healing me, silly,” you answer with a chortle. “Even if I do like being with you, I did come here for a reason.”

He straightens up then, suddenly, and clears his throat. You definitely recognize that deep copper shade to be a blush on his cheeks now, and it has your stomach doing flips. The perfect man, truly.

“R-Right, yes,” he says, trying so desperately to hide the embarrassment in his voice. It’s difficult now for him to focus with whatever… this was developing between you two, but somehow he manages. The perfect being, and all that.

He starts where his hand rests upon your waist. You’re not sure if it’s his lack of focus, or if there was something more in his intent now, but it’s strong. It catches you off guard as you feel that golden energy pour through you, healing the last of your bruises and delicately setting your cracked ribs into place. But more than that, it sends a tingling sensation coursing through your entire being. It’s so sudden that you can’t stop the sound that escapes your lips.

You can’t stop the broken, breathless moan that cracks in your throat. Thank goodness your hand was already braced on his chest. Your fingers curl against the skin there, and your body nearly convulses with the strength of it.

Forget golden morphine. His healing was like an aphrodisiac to you now.

He pulls away from you in an instant. Of course he does. His face is the picture of horror, and he stares down at his hands for a moment before he takes you by the shoulders.

“Y/N!” His voice is exasperated as he looks you over. “I am so sorry! What have I done?”

It takes you a second to catch your breath, and your cheeks are flushed. That golden energy lingers and sends shocks of pleasure straight to your core. You grip the mantle of his cape in both of your fists and pull him closer.

“Fuck, Adam…” you curse, and you can't help but laugh breathlessly when he peers down at you in utter confusion. “N-nothing bad, I assure you.”

Your eyes are half-lidded, and your grip shows no sign of weakening. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you or your words, but this is truly unlike anything he has ever witnessed. Adam takes the time to study you, noticing the warmth radiating off of you and… something else he doesn't recognize. A need?

Curious as he is, he composes himself once more and places his hand at your ribs, just inches underneath your breast. You barely have time to process it before he's sending out another wave of energy. It leaves you panting, clamping your thighs together, and trembling. Your toes curl in your boots and your head falls to rest on his chest while you catch your breath.

Oh.

He's catching on. Slowly. Slower than the tightness forming in his pants, at least.

“It… feels good?” he asks, his voice taking on a low huskiness. When all you do is nod, his hand begins to travel up your side to cup your cheek. “Y/N… allow me to see your face.”

There was no way you could deny him now, and your head rises so that you might meet his pearlescent gaze. He finds your pupils blown and your lips parted ever so sweetly… His thumb traces your bottom lip and he sends the tiniest whisper of energy to that spot. Your eyes shut tight as a whine catches in your throat.

It draws a shuddery exhale from him. He doesn’t understand why, but some part of him needs to hear more of these noises from you. He speaks before he even realizes what he asks.

“Please,” he begins, a soft quiver in his voice, “Please let me kiss you.”

It’s not your voice that answers, but your lips. They crash into his; it’s messy, needy, utterly stealing the breath from his lungs. Your hands leave the mantle of his cape to slide into those silky golden locks at the nape of his neck, determined to make the same mess out of him that he’s made of you. He gasps into your mouth before both of his hands are cupping your face. It’s clear who has more experience in this field, but you certainly don’t mind taking the lead. Your legs part and wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly close as he stumbles slightly to steady himself. Nipping and tugging at his bottom lip with your teeth draws a whimper from him that leaves him bucking his hips into yours, and you can’t help but let out a low moan at the way his evident desire grinds against you.

He breaks the kiss then, clearly a bit overwhelmed with his flushed face and swollen lips, but shows no signs of letting you go. His chest rises and falls with the force of his breaths.

“I… I do not know what it is you do to me, but…” he finally murmurs, his breath fanning across your face. “I know that I like it. I want to hear more of you. Feel more of you.” The back of his hand brushes soothingly along your cheek before brushing through your hair, and his reverent gaze melts you in an instant. Then his touches travel lower, and his golden fingers toy with the bunched up fabric of your shirt. “...That is, if you will allow me?”

You must be dreaming. Sure, you had just kissed him, and gods know you’ve wanted to do that for ages, but for him to want to continue? It feels like something out of your fantasies.

So when your hands fall from his neck, when your fingers find the edge of his cape and slowly push it off of him and he lets you, you’re still not sure it’s real. But you’re not going to give up the chance to live out this dream of yours regardless.

“Only if you let me do the same,” you respond airily, occupying your fingers with tracing those delicate lines across his chest and shoulders.

“I-I…” he starts, clearly distracted by your touches. “Yes. Please.”

#marvel rivals #adam warlock #marvel rivals x reader #adam warlock x reader #fem reader #glasvera writes #if adam warlock has 0 fans i am dead #glasvera ridiculously pines over fictional character no 345

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mysunshinetemptress · 1 year ago

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I love you

Alexia Putellas x sisters best friend reader

Warnings: fluff, slight angst,

Alexia hadn’t always liked you let alone love you, to her you where her little sisters annoying best friend who would do anything possible to annoy her daily. She would huff and roll her eyes every time you would bounce over and ask for her to watch a dance both yourself and Alba had just come up with, or slam her bedroom door in your face anytime you knocked, you where a constant pain back then.

But to Alba you were her best friend who had been there for her through her worst and best times. Alexia and Albas father had died when Alexia was 18 and Alba was 15 with you still being 14 and you had been Albas constant being there from the beginning of their worst nightmare until Alexia decided to shut you out. It was something you always brushed off stating it was understandable you weren’t family and Alexia simply wanted to mourn such a massive loss with her sister and mother in private much to Albas dismay who constantly stated she needed you and Alexia had no right to push you away in that manner, especially when she knew how much you loved her sister.

Alva had been there for just as much as you had for her especially when her sister had began to date her teammate Jenni Hermoso breaking your heart in the process. Alexia didn’t know of your feelings swearing Alba to secrecy but her constant show of affection towards Jenni at the Putellas family home saw you avoid the house much to the older girls delight.

Alexia didn’t think she could dislike you anymore until in her words you “tried to take Alba away from her home.” You had been accepted into the Paris Opera Ballet School at the age of 18, she had screamed at you much to your, Eli and Albas horror, once again you had left the Putellas house on the older girls wishes only this time you didn’t return, instead you said goodbye to your best friend and boarded a plane. A year later Alba flew out to you and never looked back instead she began flying around the globe with you as you began your professional Ballet career stating you need a reminder of home (her).

But now at the age of 25 you where heading home for the first time, you where taking a well deserved break before your next contract started up opting to travel home to spend time with family and friends.

That’s how Alexia found you relaxing on the couch in her family home “Y/n.” You turned looking at the eldest Putellas smiling softly “Hola Ale.” Alexia looked at you stunned “you…you are home.” You nodded “Sí for a while I have a break in my contract so I thought why not.” Alexia nodded unable to take her eyes off of you “well eh..it’s nice to see you.” You smiled brightly at her “it’s nice to see you too Ale.” Alexia let out a nervous laugh before rushing into the kitchen to find her mother as Alba trotted down the stairs “what was that.” You let out a huff “that was me realising I might still have feelings for your sister Al.” Alba smacked you laughing “dios mío, y/n you told me you where done with her the night you left.” You shook your head “I know but Al, I forgot how hot your sister was.” Alba through a pillow at you head as you laughed.

You spent nearly every day at the Putellas house like the old days only this time Alexia didn’t seem to care as much, maybe it was the fact she had her own place now but you often found her sitting watching movies with you and Alba or sitting at the dinner table having coffee in the morning. What blew your mind altogether was when she invited you on a night out with her teammates, “Alba will be there, but I just thought I would ask you know incase you wanted to meet them or just go out for the night.” You smiled happily nodding “I’d love to, eh I’ll be here at 7pm.” Alexia couldn’t help the butterflies in her stomach “sounds good Osa.” You couldn’t help but blush at the nickname remembering back to when the word adesoso used to follow after it.

You had been panicking since 4pm on the phone to Alba “I don’t have clothes Al.” Alba huffed “yes you do amor, wear the black corset and trousers you know the leather ones and your boots you look hot in them.” You rolled your eyes “ok are you sure.” Alba rolled her eyes “you could wear a bin bag and Ale would think you are hot.” Three hours later you were stood outside the Putellas house nervously talking yourself up to ring the doorbell looking up suddenly when you head Alexia’s voice “Joder, eres preciosa.” You looked down as your face reddened “Gracias Ale.” You finally looked up staring at the older girl “wow Ale you look wow.” Alexia shook her head before grabbing your hand and pulling you in the door shouting out to Alba that you were here and ready to go.

Arriving at the club you scanned the room before catching eyes with Barcelonas best known defender “Mapi.” Maria turned on a dime laughing as she ran to scoop you up “Bebé pequeño.” You laughed at the nickname you kissed her cheek as she put you down not turning as you felt a hand on your back thinking it was Alba “how are you amor, what are you doing here, oh I have someone I want you to meet.” You laughed at Mapi’s excitement “Más despacio,Maria.” The hand left your back as Mapi dragged you towards the crowd “Mi Vida I have someone you have to meet.” You froze slightly at the sight of the tall Norwegian until she smiled brightly at you “Maria did you kidnap a ballerina.” Mapi looked confused “eh no, this is Y/n mi Bebé pequeño.” Ingrid shook her head “no you kidnapped one of the best Ballerinas in the world.” You laughed shaking your head before putting your hand out to shake Ingrid’s hand “Hola, I’m Y/n.” Ingrid looked surprised as you leaned into Mapi “how do you two know each other.” You both looked at each other and laughed “Ale and Alba.” Ingrid looked even more surprised before you began to explain “I grew up with Al, and then when I moved to Paris to study Alba followed me over a year later.” Ingrid looked stunned “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve watched you perform either live or on screen you are incredible.” You felt your cheeks reddening at her compliment before a hand grabbed your back again, once again assuming it was Alba you relaxed into their arms “My friends are actually trying to organise seeing you in Vienna.” Finally the voice behind you spoke causing you to stiffen “Vienna.” You turned looking at Alexia “sí, I leave in two weeks to begin rehearsals and then my next show is in Paris and then my agent said something about dancing in London.” Alexia felt her stomach drop “so when are you coming home.” You looked at Alexia confused “probably not for a while, why you aren’t going to miss me.” You laughed half heartedly but stopped at Alexia’s frowning features “of course I will.” You shook your head “you hate me.” Alexia sighed “I don’t hate you Osa, I’ve never hated you.” You wanted to push further but Alba grabbed your hand “Come on show off those moves we all know you’ve got.” You couldn’t help but look back at Alexia eyes softening as you looked at the frown spread across her face.

You had been dancing for hours getting lost in the moment with Alba like you both normally did, although this time you couldn’t help but look for Alexia sighing every time you noticed her talking to someone else before shaking your head and going back to dancing. You stiffened suddenly as an unknown hand wrapped around your waist before someone began speaking to you “Hola, guapa.” You turned looking at an unfamiliar face before smiling nervously “hola.” You turned looking for Alba before seeing her talking to a girl “it’s ok she’s with my friend.” You looked at the strange woman confused “ehh ok.” You quickly looked at the table of Barcelona players trying to catch someone’s eye but finding no one, you couldn’t help but squirm uncomfortably as the girls hand stayed on your waist squeezing it before you turned to Alba grabbing her hand “Al Por favor.” Alba simply brushed you off to busy batting her eyes at the girl she was flirting with “Al.” You tried again only to feel the random girl pull you towards her “hey why don’t we go get a drink.” You shook your head “no gracias.” But she wasn’t taking no for an answer as you put your hands on her shoulder trying to push her off you. You gasped quickly as you were pulled into a different pair of arms relaxing immediately as you took in Alexia’s perfume unable to stop the gasp you let out “Ale.” Alexia ignored you pulling you before she grabbed Alba “Al we are leaving.” Alba turned to argue before she caught your eyes and a worried expression spread across her face “what, what happened Y/n.” Alexia huffed “you would know if you took your head out of that girls ass and stopped flirting with her.” Alba huffed pulling her sister back towards her “why do you care.” Alexia shook her head “leave it Alba, I’m not doing this here.” Alba shook her head not taking that “no we are, you have hated Y/n since our friendship started, you haven’t made it a secret so don’t try to deny it.” Alexia huffed “I don’t hate her.” Alba cut her off “yes you do.” Alexia was getting angry “no I don’t, I love her.” Alba looked at her sister surprised “I love her, I’m in love with her.” You looked surprised at Alexia “you love me.” Alexia turned to you shocked “well….i…..ehm.” You grabbed the older girls face pulling her into a searing kiss “I’ve wanted to do that since I was four years old.” Alexia laughed kissing you again “let me take you home Osa.”

You groaned lightly turning to see Alexa’s relaxed features as sleep took over her body until she groaned at the sound of the knock on door until Eli pocked her head in “Gracias a dios, you grew a pair Ale.” You couldn’t help but laugh “hi Eli.” Eli smiled at you “Papa would be so happy.” Alexia looked at you smiling softly “I know, he told me if she wasn’t going to be his daughter in law he would disown me.” You laughed pulling the older girl into a kiss “slow down mi amor, you only admitted to your love to me yesterday.” Alexia sighed happily “yeah but I know this is forever.”

#awfc #woso #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #alexia putellas x you #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #woso community #woso blurbs #woso x reader #woso soccer #woso couples #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #fc barcelona #alba putellas

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swiftlyinlove · 2 years ago

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Santa Doesn't Know You Like I Do

pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

summary: You and Spencer are best friends, but there's always been a little spark between you. When he cancels your plans for Christmas, you're determined to prove that you know him better than anyone else.

warnings: idiots in love, christmas fluff, a little angst if you squint??

word count: approximately 4.5k

a/n: Hi! It's been a long time since I wrote much of anything, but writing this for Christmas has been an absolute joy. I love Spencer so much, and this poor boy just suffers... I wanted to give him a happy ending for Christmas - or a happy beginning. I hope you like it.

The first thing you realized after the beep signaled the end of the phone call was how weird Spencer was acting lately.

To be fair, you two had an unconventional friendship. Due to the nature of his job, Spencer was often busy and therefore you couldn’t communicate as much as you'd like to, but you'd set up a base rule to make sure you never lost touch with one another: mandatory Friday night video call.

Every Friday, without fail, you would Facetime. Spencer wasn’t fond of technology, you were aware, but he’d gladly face his prejudice and lack of knowledge of anything digital if it meant talking to you. It didn't matter if he was home or if he was in another state for a case; come nine pm on a Friday, you two would be catching up about your lives.

That, of course, meant that you'd grasp at every opportunity you could to be with each other. He was in town for a case? You would meet up and have dinner if he had time; if he was doing something important and couldn’t finish it in time for dinner, he would drop by your place at the craziest hour in the morning and lie down next to you, gently shaking you awake to reveal he had gotten take out from your favorite restaurant.

Despite being awakened from your slumber, you would greet him with the brightest smile he’s ever seen - well, after letting out a little shriek of surprise, to which Spencer would respond with an “It’s me, little menace” and a chuckle that would make your heart flutter every time.

The nickname had originated from your childhood. Spencer didn’t have many friends in middle school, and the fact that he was much smarter than kids his age didn’t help. His classmates either made fun of him or avoided him altogether, but you were… different.

When you first moved into town, you were very nervous for your first day of school. Making friends was never easy for you, as your peers would deem you rather weird for always having your nose stuck in books. However, you quickly realized you had nothing to worry about - it took one look at little Spencer Reid, reading Crime and Punishment at the lunch table, for you to know you had found your place.

You sat next to him, ignoring the snickers from the so-called “popular kids”. He hesitantly lifted his gaze from the wrinkled pages - you reckoned he had probably read that book many times before -, expecting to see someone with a mean scowl ready to taunt him.

Instead, his wide eyes were met with your bright smile, your rosy cheeks, and your adorable ponytails, and he frowned in confusion. “Hello…?”

“Hi. I’m Y/N.” You greeted him excitedly. There was something about him that made you feel confident, so you continued. “I’m new here and I noticed you were sitting alone. And that seems like a really cool book if you don’t mind me saying, and I just thought you-”

You cut yourself off, realizing you were rambling. You could feel your cheeks warming up, and you were sure you looked as flustered as you were feeling. Before you could even dwell on how embarrassed you felt, Spencer’s lips broke into a smile.

And that was it. From that moment on, you had been inseparable. Well, perhaps not physically; after all, he was academically way ahead of you and everyone else, and he even managed to graduate from high school at only twelve years old.

That didn’t stop you from hanging out every moment you could, nor from exchanging letters every single day when he went to college. To this day, you still had those letters, safely tucked into a charming wooden box you kept on your bookshelf, but you’d never tell him that (although you were sure he knew, as the great profiler he was).

So, despite being separated due to your busy jobs - his more than yours - and living in different states, it wasn’t a surprise when you started arranging to spend the holidays together.

Since his mother was still institutionalized, Spencer didn't really have anyone to celebrate the holidays with and therefore didn't care much for the traditions. You, on the other hand, loved the holidays, but since your parents had passed away when you were in college, you were also alone during the season.

Thus, you cut a deal. Every year, he would use his extra vacation days to take a week off around Christmas and you would take turns visiting each other. Usually, you were both very excited about this occasion – it was one of the rare opportunities you had to be together in person, and you missed each other terribly.

This year, though... You had just called Spencer to confirm the date so you could book your flight to Quantico, and he had simply managed to say he couldn’t take time off before hanging up on you.

You were confused by this but chalked it up to it being one of those days for him. Working at the BAU, Spencer had to deal with a lot of gruesome cases often and, after a really bad one, he didn't find any energy to do much of anything.

While he'd never avoided you per se, when those days coincided with your phone calls, you would try to comfort him the best you could, and sometimes even managed to cheer him up a little.

This time, you didn't even have the chance to, and that threw you off. Still, if Spencer was in a bad mood, maybe he just didn't feel like talking. Not even to you.

Deciding to not push it any further, it's only a few days later that you brought up your trip to Quantico, this time via text. You spent the entire day nearly jumping at your phone each time it vibrated, expecting a notification with his name on it.

It was only later that night that you'd get your answer in the form of an ‘I can't this year’. You read the text over and over again, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. Perhaps it had been wishful thinking, but you had hoped that, once he was in a better mood, he would be just as eager as you for your shared holiday season.

It occurred to you that perhaps something happened, perhaps he couldn't file for a vacation because he had a big case that he couldn't step away from.

But if that were the case, he would've told you so. He would've explained, apologized even, and tried to schedule another date for your trip to make it up to you. So, you concluded, he just didn't want to see you.

That thought haunted you for the entire week.

Finally having enough of feeling blue and not getting any work done, you decided to go straight to the source in search of answers. Well, source adjacent - Spencer was still replying rather coldly to your texts, so you couldn’t ask him directly. Penelope Garcia was the next best thing.

You had met the members of the BAU after a particularly successful case in your city. Their flight would only leave in the morning and Spencer thought he could take the opportunity to take you to the cinema for a late-night movie, just like the good old days of your adolescence.

However, Penelope and Rossi had other plans. To properly celebrate their hard work that led to saving multiple women who had been kidnapped a few weeks prior, they decided to take the team out for dinner in a nice restaurant.

“And it’s mandatory. It’s not like we have anything else to do tonight, so no excuses.” She had warned in a playfully threatening tone.

Spencer shifted in his spot while putting away his things in his satchel. After all the years he worked at the BAU, he still hadn’t told his coworkers - his found family, really - about you. It was the one thing he kept close to his chest, the one secret he wanted to keep forever.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he brushed his hair behind his ears, not daring to turn and face the team while he spoke. “I sort of already have plans.”

His voice was so quiet that the team wasn’t sure they had heard him correctly. After a moment of silence, Derek’s lips curled into his (in)famous smirk and he gently nudged Spencer’s side, making the lanky boy turn around to face his friends.

Spencer’s cheeks were flushed and he kept his eyes trained on the ground, not wanting to face the curious expressions on their faces. But when Derek nudged him again, asking him “Who’s the girl?” with such a teasing tone, he couldn’t help but look up.

“She’s just a friend.” He blurted out, eyes immediately widening upon the realization of what he admitted.

While the rest of the team just shrugged it off and dived into their conversations, Derek patted him on the back - the force of which sent Spencer stumbling a few feet forward -, and Penelope lit up like he had just told her that he won the lottery.

“You have to bring her!” Penelope begged, grabbing his arm as they walked towards the door of the local precinct they had been working on for the case. “I want to meet this mystery woman.”

Penelope didn’t say it to him then, but she was sure you weren’t ‘just a friend’. She might’ve not been a profiler, but the look in his eyes when he spoke about you and his hesitation to cancel your plans for the sake of the team made her think that perhaps you were much more special to him than he realized.

Her suspicions were, of course, confirmed when he showed up at the restaurant a few hours later with you in his arms, wearing an elegant black dress and a radiant smile on your face as you whispered something to him, immediately breaking into a fit of giggles.

Spencer tried to feign indignation at your comment, but he couldn’t help but smile as he led you to his friends, who were all watching the interaction with surprise and disbelief. Your laughter calmed when you reached the table, but the smile never fell from your face as Spencer introduced you, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. That’s when Penelope knew.

You clicked rather well with his friends. They were, naturally, very curious about you, and you did your best to answer all their questions. Meanwhile, Spencer, who was sitting next to you, placed a hand on your lower back, making sure you didn’t feel overwhelmed under the attentive eyes of his friends.

Penelope and you were a match made in heaven, Spencer reckoned. You quipped back and forth the entire night, even swapping numbers by the end of it, and Spencer even joked that you had found a new favorite FBI agent as you made your way to his car.

Chuckling at his statement, you stopped in your tracks, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to place a tender kiss on his cheek. “You’ll always be my favorite. But she’s a close second.”

Spencer was sure his heart had stopped right then and there and that he had gone to heaven.

Since that night, you frequently called Penelope to talk about numerous things - from the latest TV shows you were both hooked on to recipes for dessert -, but you rarely talked about Spencer. Until today.

“Penny, I need your help.” You blurted out as soon as the blonde answered your call.

“Woah, woah, calm down my friend,” Penelope answered, amused and slightly worried about the urgency in your tone. “What’s on your pretty little mind?”

All it took for Penelope to know something was wrong was two words. “It’s Spencer.”

“What about boy wonder?” The technical analyst questioned, trying to make sense of what you were saying.

“He’s been acting so cold lately.” You explained, sighing in exhaustion as you plopped down on your couch. “Well, you know how we always arrange to spend the holidays together?”

Penelope hummed in agreement - every year when Spencer would put in a request to take time off during the holidays, she would make sure it was at the top of Strauss’ paperwork, knowing he was doing it for you.

At her approval, you continued. “This year I was supposed to come to Quantico, but every time I try to bring it up, he shuts me down and just says that he can’t. I don’t understand why he’s acting like this and it's been driving me nuts all week.”

The blonde’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked at your image on the phone.

“Are we sure we’re talking about the same person? Because he seemed pretty excited last week. He wouldn’t shut up about how he found the perfect gift for you and how he couldn’t wait to see your face when you opened it.”

This confused you even more, and you frowned as you processed her words. “Yeah, well, this week he can barely text me back. I don’t want anything crazy, Penny, I just want to be with him for Christmas.”

“I don’t know what happened. As far as I can tell, he did put in the request for a vacation.” Penelope replied. Then, her face lit up in realization and she cursed under her breath. “Morgan.”

“Morgan? What does Derek have to do with this?” You asked, more disoriented than ever.

“Wait here,” Penelope said, quickly getting up from her chair and leaving you to stare at her empty office. She returns a few minutes later, looking pretty annoyed, to see you making a cup of coffee in your kitchen.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sweet cheeks.” The blonde said apologetically, making your gaze return to your phone, forgotten on the counter as you waited for her.

You quickly picked it up, registering her distressed expression. “What happened?”

“I found out why Reid’s acting like an ass to you.” She replied, her voice softening as she saw the glimmer of worry in your eyes. “It seems like Morgan has done quite a number on him.”

“What do you mean Morgan has done a number on him? What did he do?” You questioned, growing irritated by Penelope’s ability to beat around the bush. You loved her, you really did, but you just wanted to know what happened.

“I’m not sure I should be telling you this, but since you’re so upset…” Penelope trailed off, pursing her lips. “Morgan better pay me back.”

“Penelope, just spit it out.” You interrupted, your impatience reflected in your tone.

“Fine. I told you Reid wouldn’t shut up about you, and Morgan may or may not have teased him about his feelings for you and it may or may not have caused Spencer to clam up in his shell.” Penelope rushed through her words and you blinked, unsure you had heard her correctly.

You could feel your heart beating in your ears as you asked her, “Spencer… Has feelings for me?”

Penelope looked reluctant to answer your questions, clearly not wanting to violate Spencer’s privacy. Ever since she met you, she knew you and the resident FBI genius were destined for each other, but she wanted you to discover on your terms.

“Penny, please.” You sounded out of breath, and it cleared any sign of hesitation on Penelope’s mind.

“Baby girl, I can’t be the one to tell you that. You have to ask him.” She responded, her voice full of empathy. “But between me and you, I’m pretty sure you know what the answer is.”

Spencer was certain that he was in the 9th circle of hell.

Ever since Morgan’s comment, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He always knew what you two had was special. You knew how to make him laugh; Spencer didn’t consider himself to be difficult to entertain, but he could be quite oblivious to his coworkers' jokes sometimes, especially if they were about him. But you? Oh, you managed to make him laugh hysterically with a simple comment, and it endeared him.

You had been with him through the good and the bad, after all. You were there at his graduation, celebrating his first Ph.D. - and the two that came after that, too - and you were right there by his side when he watched his mother be dragged away to a mental institution, holding his hand in an attempt to comfort him.

That was what he loved most about you. He could always count on you to be there for him. He recalled the first moment he realized you were much more than a friend to him.

It had been after the Tobias Hankel case. Spencer slipped in and out of consciousness as the doctors dragged him through the hospital, murmuring to themselves about testing the drugs in his system and checking his vitals.

His life wasn’t in danger anymore, but he was oh so tired. He had spent days upon days of captivity without a wink of sleep, locked in an empty cabin where he was tortured by two of Tobias’ personalities, and all he could think about between getting tormented and getting drugged was you.

He was sure he was going to die then, and his main concern was that he wouldn’t be able to see your pretty smile again. He would tell you this when you appeared at his bedside a few hours later, claiming that you received a call from the hospital - unsurprisingly, you were each other’s emergency contacts - and had threatened a stewardess to get a ticket to the next plane to Virginia, and you would call him ridiculous for it.

It was only when you were sitting next to him on his hospital bed, his head leaning against your chest as you combed your hands through his hair, that he allowed himself to cry, to reveal how truly scared he had been under Tobias’ hands.

You whispered sweet nothings in his ear as you softly lifted his head, making sure he was looking at you when you softly kissed his tears away. His arms had tightened around you, a silent sign of his gratitude, and he knew then, he knew, you were everything to him.

How could he have not fallen for you after all that?

But he could never tell you. He had been rejected many times in his life, but if he was to get rejected by you? He was sure his heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

So he tried to bury his feelings deep inside him, keeping you a secret from the people who knew him best and, when the time came, introduced you to them. As a friend. Because that’s all that you were. Friends.

When Morgan teased him about his feelings for you, Spencer entered panic mode. If Morgan could see Spencer was madly in love with you, then you could see it too - you could always read him like a book, after all.

And if you hadn’t brought it up… You didn’t want to. He knew you’d never want to hurt him, so the only logical conclusion he could reach was: you don’t feel the same.

He tried his best to avoid you. Cutting you off whenever you brought up your plans for the holidays, replying to your texts with short answers, and even refraining from watching Doctor Who in his free time, because it only reminded him of how you two used to lie on your couch during summer break and watch it together.

What he didn’t count on was opening his door in mid-afternoon on Christmas Eve and seeing you standing in front of him, coat covered in the snow that was falling outside the comfort of his building and a small smile on your face.

“Merry Christmas, Spencer.” You said bashfully, not sure how he would react to your presence.

“Merry Christmas.” He replied, his breath knocked out of his lungs at how beautiful you looked standing there. He might have fallen in love with you all over again.

After a beat of silence, he wet his lips, looking at you with the same wide-eyed gaze he greeted you with when you were kids. “What... What are you doing here?”

Your lips curled into a sheepish smile. “What, you thought I was gonna miss Christmas?”

Seeing you in front of him, hearing your voice without the faint static of the phone for the first time in a while… it was surreal to him. He couldn’t help but cave in and wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer into a tight hug.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders just as tightly, your body finally relaxing against his. You could feel his nose nuzzled into your neck, and you smiled against his shoulder.

“I missed you.” You whispered, letting your words linger between the two of you.

“I missed you too.” He whispered back, and you knew he was sincere. “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”

“I know.” You breathed in his scent, pressing a soft kiss against his shoulder before pulling away. He reluctantly let you go, a remorseful smile on his lips.

Spencer guided you into his apartment, and you took note of how he put up your usual Christmas decorations. “You managed to set up the tree by yourself?” You teased him.

He chuckled, watching as you settled on his couch and patted the space next to you. He promptly followed your lead, sitting down beside you. “Yeah, it was a real challenge.”

Before you could even reply, Spencer reached out to grab your hand, his thumb softly caressing your knuckles to calm his racing mind.

“Look, I’m so sorry. I’ve been stuck in my head lately, and it’s not fair that I treated you like that. We’ve had this tradition forever and I feel like I disrespected it and-” Spencer rambled, and you pressed your lips against his to shut him up.

Your sudden action stunned him, and he couldn’t help but succumb to your spell. Placing his hands on both sides of your face and closing his eyes, he kissed you back as gently and tenderly as he could, feeling you melt against him.

Once you pulled away, his eyes fluttered open, looking at you with a lovestruck, surprised gaze. He seemed to be speechless, which made you giggle.

“I hope that was on your wishlist this Christmas.” You joked, leaning your forehead against his.

Your gaze softened as you took in his expression. “Penny told me everything. In all seriousness, I understand why you did it. I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t just tell me.”

He gulped, feeling vulnerable under your loving stare. He always got the impression that you could see right through him.

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been in love with you almost my entire life, and when I finally realized it, I was afraid that if I acted on them, you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.” He murmured, his tone growing sadder.

“And when Morgan joked about my feelings for you, I just realized that maybe I hadn’t been as discreet as I thought and perhaps you already knew and didn’t talk about it so you wouldn’t hurt me.” He continued, closing his eyes again as if the mere thought was too painful to bear.

He took a deep breath, his thumbs starting to slowly brush against your cheekbones. “I didn’t want to face you and find out if it was true, because… Because my heart couldn’t take it.”

You listened quietly to his words, his touch on your skin grounding you and sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It broke your heart to hear him speak like that, as if the mere thought of you feeling the same never crossed his mind, as if it was absurd.

You knew he had low self-esteem, a permanent scar from all the times he was bullied throughout his life, but his self-deprecating view never ceased to shock you.

“Spencer…” You whispered his name like it was sacred, like he was something to be worshipped, and it made his heart skip a beat. “I know all your favorite songs, how you take your coffee, and your favorite books. In order. I know you. I’d be crazy not to love you.”

You could feel him exhale in relief at your quiet confession, his racing mind finding solace in your words. “Really?”

“Of course.” You replied with a chuckle, leaning forward to press a feather-light peck against his lips. “I’ve been in love with you since we were, like, sixteen. All I ever wanted was to be the one to give you everything you want.”

He smiled as you pulled away once again, thinking about how much time you two had lost while dancing around your feelings. Although, he supposed, it wasn’t lost time - you had spent those years giving each other love, even if it wasn’t necessarily romantic.

“We’re both idiots.” He replied, making you laugh once more. You stood up, grabbing both of his hands and guiding him to the kitchen. He followed you with a bright smile on his face; he would follow you anywhere, he suspected.

“I was thinking I could make those cookies you like and, afterward, we could perhaps… snuggle by the fireplace?” You suggested, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

He pretended to think for a moment, before he finally gave in, pressing a delicate kiss against your temple. “Anything you want, little menace.”

Spencer hummed, burying his face further into his neck. “I was thinking of reading a few books. Santa was going to keep me company.”

Later that night, when you were both snuggled up against each other in front of his fireplace while eating the gingerbread cookies you both made, you asked him curiously, “What were you planning to do for Christmas, if I hadn’t shown up?”

You laughed quietly at his admission. “Well, Santa doesn’t know you like I do.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Your genius agreed, peppering little kisses onto your skin. “You’re the best Christmas present ever, do you know that?”

“Yeah? Wait until you see what I actually bought for you.” You replied, a playful smile on your face. “Besides, a little birdie told me you got me the perfect Christmas gift.”

“I’m gonna kill Penelope.” He muttered under his breath, sending you into a fit of laughter.

Well, maybe this Christmas time

You'll finally realize

That I could be the one

To give you everything you want

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #penelope garcia #derek morgan #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid cm #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #fluff #best friends to lovers #criminal minds oneshot #Spotify

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evermourner · 1 year ago

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rediscovering shame and giving yourself compassion (how to deal with shame as someone with ADHD)

this is directed towards my fellow ADHDers who have trouble with reoccuring shame while leads to hindered productivity.

signs that your productivity is hindered by shame (compiled by my own experiences):

you feel negative physical symptoms when you think about your responsibilities

you find ways to avoid the responsibilities

every time you make progress, you feel like you don't ever wanna touch it again

when you present your progress, you feel ashamed of yourself because it's not finished (on time & according to ur standards).

you feel like you are a constant failure. you never win, despite achieving good things here and there.

you are a walking ball of anxiety

you have a fear of being perceived

there's probably more, but eh those are just from my own experiences

below i will write down what y'all should remember, what you can do to help yourself, etc. this is compiled from dr k, my own journaling time, and my firsthand experience from having shame 24/7

some things u gotta remember

shame is what exists in the gap between your ideal self and where you are currently.

your ideal self doesn't have to be unrealistic, it can be yourself when you were at your peak or someone who is very similar to you.

shame brings negative thoughts, because it makes you see progress as a negative thing.

instead of being happy that u made progress, u grumble to urself and ask "why didnt i just do it sooner? im so stupid". it's a reminder of your failures, so u avoid progress altogether.

shame can become a part of you, to the point where you feel uneasy or vulnerable if you dont feel ashamed at yourself

shame doesn't do anything to ADHDers in the long run except self-loathing and hindered productivity.

what should u do?

basically self-therapy, but instead of stopping at why, i try to solve my shame one-by-one.

examine past moments where you felt a LOT of shame. this can go back to elementary. the stronger the emotions, the better. now, write them down. you're probably cringing, but that is good. feel all the cringiness running through ur veins.

why did you feel shame? why did it happen? what did you feel?

reframe your thoughts. instead of immediately running away from it, accept it and justify it. give it compassion. give it a hug. was it your 7 year old self? hug yourself. it's okay to fuck up and do silly things sometimes, and it's okay to have ADHD. it's not our fault.

remember that ADHD is a lifelong nerudivergency, you can't just push it away. coping mechanisms and tools help, but give yourself some grace when you screw up. it's our first time living anyway.

calm your body down. make sure your physical body is doing okay.

now... think of one thing you want to do but can't because of shame and do these steps carefully. think of the reasons why you might be ashamed, and reframe your thoughts.

WARNING!! TAKE IT ONE PRESENT ACTION AT A TIME. don't do this for every action you want to take, let your body slowly learn that it's okay to make progress despite the shame you feel, and you are allowed to feel compassion for yourself.

train your body to accept compassion slowly. life is tough with ADHD but it's even tougher knowing that shame will get in your way. give yourself a break, it's fine to fuck up, we all go through different things anyway. even if it's not fine, you will learn and make those mistakes a lil bit lesser in the future.

ok hope this helps.

#mika rambles #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #adhd #actuallyadhd #actually adhd #adhd tips #adhd advice #adhd problems #adhd brain #adhd things #self improvement #mental health #mental illness #advice

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vrystalius · 7 months ago

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hi! Ive been reading ur fics for a while and i love them sm and hope ur enjoying ur break!

I was wondering if u could write about giyuu apologizing after an arguement?

once again i absolutely love ur fics lol 💗

Apologies

Giyuu apologising after an argument— how does he do it?

Pairing: married!Giyuu x gn!married!reader

“Why can’t you just talk to me? I feel like I’m the only one trying here!”

You immediately regretted those words the second they left your mouth. Washing out your mouth with soap won’t wash that expression of your husband from your face, him staring at you in both disbelief and deep guilt. Giyuu knows that he can come off as cold or even uncaring, even to you. It’s never intentional but rather a terrible habit he seemingly can’t get rid off and it keeps forcing him to push people away from him. That’s why it may seem he doesn’t try hard enough to express his thoughts, his feelings.

Despite knowing that you will be understanding and listen to his worries, hold him while you kiss his face until he finally smiles again, all those fears and thoughts that dwell on horrific events he experiences on a daily gone in mere seconds.

So, who should apologise first? Giyuu, or you?

Since your husband left your house after the argument, probably wanting to take a walk or get some fresh air, you had time to think about what to do to apologise to him. Directly talking to him might scare him off and result into him being too intimidated to answer or scurry off to hide somewhere else to avoid you altogether. A letter could work, right?

Composing and thinking about every word, every sentence helped you sort your thoughts out and properly speak about the argument from your perspective while also staying respectful to his own view of the issues. You just hoped that your crow was awake to deliver a letter to your husband. If not, you’ll leave it in your bedroom for your husband to find and read quietly while you waited on him somewhere else.

But before you could prepare a method for Giyuu receiving your letter, Kanzaburo, your husband’s elderly crow, weakly called out to you and ruffled his feathers while resting on your windowsill. A letter was secured around his neck. Gently, you took the bird and put it to rest on your lap, giving him well-deserved scratches while gently unravelling the letter from his neck. It was written by Giyuu, obviously, but before you could read, the door to the room opened and your husband stood in the doorframe, staring down at you in surprise. He eyed you, then the letter in your hands.

“Have you.. read it?”

“No, Kanzaburo just delivered it.”

“Ah.”

You could see the gears shifting inside his mind. He probably overestimated the senior crow and thought the letter would be delivered faster. You scratched the crows head and glanced back to the paper in your hand.

“Should I read it? Or do you want to say everything you wrote down to me personally?”

Giyuu silently averted his eyes, his shoulders sagging and a small frown spreading on his face. He was avoiding to look into your eyes.

“No. I’ll be in the bedroom.”

You watched your husband slowly close the door, leaving you alone with his elder companion. While the crow was contently preparing to nap on your lap, you opened the letter.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳༚

My dearest,

I am sorry. I know I’ve caused arguments again and again because of my silence and my behaviour over all. You feel like you’re the only one trying in this relationship and I’m sorry for that. I thought that if I stayed silent it would be easier for the both of us but that is clearly not the case. I should’ve realised much sooner, but instead I am only doing it now.

I am just too scared to scare you off with my problems and issues since you have your own, just like everyone else does. You are important to me so you always are my priority. My thoughts and feelings can wait, so I stay quiet.

You deserve better than the way I am treating you, you deserve so, so much better. You’ve been patient with me, you stayed with me for so long, through good and bad times. I don’t deserve your love.

I want to do better and I will. Please have a little more patience with me. Please.

I love you, I am sorry that I haven’t said it enough times. I am sorry if you don’t believe me.

Yours forever,

Tomioka Giyuu.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳༚

💠

Thank you so much for requesting!! I’ve been seeing you interact with my posts pretty often so thank you for all your love and support <33 I’ll happily write more requests for you in the future if you liked this one!

Also, I haven’t forgot about Kyojuro’s thighs request :,) I started writing it and it’s halfway finished— my NSFW meter just ran out and I started writing this instead XD

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves, physically and mentally <3

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