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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year

Text

My Reply | S.R

This one was a request from the lovely @reidsaurora-replies for my milestone celebration which got wildly out of hand. I think I damn near used every lyric of the song in this one. Also, Maeve does not exist in this universe. I felt like his phone calls with her were too similar to the letters with reader and not needed

Summary - Spencer writes his deepest tragedies down on paper for his pen pal. After ten years of exchanging letters and some divine intervention from JJ, the two of you finally come face to face.

CW - this one covers most of Spencer’s canon storylines including Tobis Hankel and his drug addiction, his moms illness, his fathers abandonment, getting shot in the knee, his headaches, Emily’s “death”, prison arc, Mr Scratch and Emily’s kidnapping, angst, interfering friends, lots of literary quotes.

WC - 6.3k

Making friends was always something Spencer Reid had been inherently bad at. He was always too young or too smart which always seemed to put people off of forming friendships with him.

When he joined the BAU, his team called themselves his friends. But Spencer knew if he’d met any of them outside of work he would have nothing in common with them.

They were simply friends by proximity, which admittedly was better than having no friends at all. But he couldn’t talk to them about everything, afraid to scare them away with talk of his mothers illness or his fathers abandonment.

And sometimes he just needed to talk to someone.

It was Garcia’s idea that he sign up for a pen pal. When she found out about his mom during the course of the fisher king case, he’d confessed that he didn’t feel comfortable talking to the team about such things.

At first she’d actually suggested talking to someone online, she had many online friends who she talked to in various chat rooms. But after almost an hour of trying to explain that to the technophobe doctor and getting little more than a deep frown in response, she changed tact.

A pen pal appealed to Spencer greatly. He already wrote daily letters to his mom and found it somewhat cathartic, getting his thoughts down on the page, but he never bothered her with the darker stuff.

The idea of a faceless person he’d never meet reading his deepest, darkest thoughts was actually intriguing to him. And so with the help of Penelope he found himself a pen pal.

In his first letter he’d just introduced the basics, his name and age, what he did for a living and that he lived in DC.

He went on to explain how hard he found it to make friends and the difficulties of talking to his already established friends about the darker parts of his life. He ended the letter with a quote from To Kill a Mockingbird.

“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view…until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.” - Harper Lee.

He received a reply little over a week later.

Your name was Y/N and you were twenty two, three years younger than him and a grad student at Columbia University. You told him you would be happy to read whatever he sent you, that you were more than willing for him to write to you about the things he didn’t tell his friends.

You signed off with a quote of your own quote from the book Infinite Jest.

“You will become way less concerned with what other people think of you when you realise how seldom they do.” - David Foster Wallace.

And so he did just as you said and he wrote another letter.

His second letter to you was five pages long. He went into great detail about his mothers illness, how he’d been left to deal with it alone at ten years old. He wrote about how he’d made the decision at eighteen years old to have her committed to a sanitarium.

He told you about growing up as a child prodigy in Las Vegas and how hard that was. You were the first person he ever told about Alexa Lisbon and being tied naked to a flagpole.

He spoke about the events surrounding Elle leaving the team and how it didn’t feel complete without her.

He ended the letter by apologising profusely that he’d wasted your time with his long winded rambles and said he hoped to hear from you soon and scrawled a quote from The Great Gatsby.

“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald.

He said he would understand if you didn’t reply. But you did.

The letter took two weeks to arrive and you explained that it was because you wanted to really process his words and give each and every one of them the time they deserved. He read the last few lines of your letter over and over again in a loop even though they were etched into his memory after only one glance.

I wish there was something I could say, to erase each and every page you've been through,

even though it's not my place to save you.

“When I get lonely these days, I think: so be lonely. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience. But never again use another person’s body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings.” - Elizabeth Gilbert - Eat, Pray, Love.

He wasn’t familiar with the book and so he’d gone out and brought it and read it cover to cover within an hour.

Reading your letter made Spencer feel understood for the first time in his young life. You didn’t pass judgement on him. Spencer found that between the pages of your letters he found a kindred spirit.

The letters continued back and forth for several months until one day you didn’t receive a reply. His last letter had been penned to you on route to a case in Atlanta, which you’d responded to the day you received it. But there was radio silence from Spencer.

You shouldn’t have been as worried as you were, but you couldn’t help yourself. His letters had become such a huge part of your world, often rereading them hundreds of times just to make sure you didn’t miss any little nuance on the page.

His handwriting was ingrained within you, his scrawly, sometimes barely legible penmanship danced behind your eyelids every time you closed your eyes. His letters had rapidly become the best part of any day. And for over a year you didn’t receive a reply.

After a while you’d stopped holding out hope every time you collected your mail. Eventually you gave up ever expecting to hear from him again. Maybe he didn’t need you anymore. Perhaps he’d made a real life friend, maybe even a girlfriend and you’d been rendered ineffective.

But then little over a year after you sent your last letter, you found an envelope in your mail slot with the familiar handwriting you adored so much and the DC postmark.

Y/N,

I don’t really have any excuses, all I can say is I’m sorry. I have written you fifty three letters over the course of the last year but never mailed a single one. They are piled up on my desk, addressed and even stamped, but I couldn’t bring myself to mail them.

I’ve been struggling, I can’t lie to you. I can’t even lie to you through a letter and tell you I’ve been fine because I haven’t. I think you would see through my prose, know that I wasn’t being truthful. And you’ve never given me a reason to be anything but honest with you.

The case in Atlanta was one of the hardest I’ve ever worked. I’m not going to beat around the bush, I’m just going to tell what happened and hopefully this letter will end up with you and not in the pile on my desk.

I was kidnapped by the man we were hunting down. I spent two days tied to a chair being beaten within an inch of my life but a man with multiple personalities. In fact, that’s not strictly true. I wasn’t beaten within an inch of my life; one of the personas killed me.

I’m not entirely sure how long I was technically dead before he revived me but obviously not long enough to cause permanent neurological damage. Irreversible brain damage occurs after four minutes without oxygen so it stands to reason it was less than four minutes.

But during that time, my life flashed before my eyes, including every single word of every single one of your letters.

One of the alter’s drugged me in his own way of trying to save me. Drugging me was supposed to help with the pain, both mental and physical. I fought it at first, desperate for him not to stick that needle in my vein. But after that first hit, I stopped resisting.

I think you can probably already see where this is going. You’re incredibly smart and you seem to know me so well. After I shot Tobias Hankel dead I took three vials of dilaudid from his corpse.

I should have prefaced this by saying I am now ten months sober, and offered up the good news first. But there were several months that I continued using the drug in secret, hoping it would aid in erasing the memories of it all.

It took a case in New Orleans in which I met up with an old friend Ethan and ended up almost destroying my career for me to decide to get sober. I’ve had a lot of difficulties in my life, as you know, but getting clean is the hardest thing I have ever done.

And now for the first time in months I’m craving again. Maybe that’s why I’m writing to you, determined to send this letter this time. I need to know that everything is going to be ok and you are the only one that I will believe it from.

My team tries. Now it's all out in the open, they try to help. But you don’t even need to try. Your help is so effortless, so easy and I’m in real need of that right now.

His letter went on in this vein for another six pages. He also included several pages of handwritten poetry which he had copied out of a book to send you. With each word you consumed you felt your heart breaking for him a piece at a time.

And he signed off with a surprising choice of quote from The Lorax.

“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.” - Dr Seuss.

You spent the next month or so trying to cultivate the perfect reply, but for the first time in your life, words failed you.

It was three days after Spencer received his one year sober chip that your letter arrived.

I got your letter and the poetry you sent me, postmarked in December of last year. I really hope you’re doing better, all your friends close by your side, one step closer to recovery.

I hope by the time you receive this you are close to one year sober, but if you didn’t make it you need to know that’s ok too. Life is full of ups and downs Spencer. If you didn’t make it this time you will the next time. Or the one after that.

If you relapsed I need you to not beat yourself up over it. You will be ok, Spencer Reid, for that I am certain.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you.” Maya Angelou - I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.

***

When he got shot in the knee, he wrote to you from the hospital. He told you how hard it was for him to turn down pain medication when he was in so much agony. But he was over two years sober now and he wouldn’t do anything to risk a relapse.

Your reply spoke of how proud of him you were and how you knew it couldn’t have been easy for him but you hoped the fact you were proud went some way to aid him.

He told you it meant more to him than you would ever know.

Then he started having headaches and the letters became sporadic. When he did write he told you how painful it was for him to try to focus on the words in front of him.

I’ve seen so many doctors and no one can tell me what’s wrong with me. It’s like they think I’m making it up, like this pain isn’t real.

On my good days it’s a dull throb but on the bad days it’s nearly paralysing. I’m so scared that this is a precursor for schizophrenia. I'm still young enough for my first break, and it is a genetic illness.

I love my mom but I can’t turn out like her, Y/N, I just can’t. I'm so, so scared.

But your letters are the greatest comfort to me. I don’t think there are words to describe how much they mean - I will try to surmise it with a quote from Charlotte's Web -

"'Why did you do all this for me?' he asked. 'I don't deserve it. I've never done anything for you.' 'You have been my friend,' replied Charlotte. 'That in itself is a tremendous thing.'" - E.B White.

You could feel his fear through the pages. His handwriting was somehow even harder to read than usual and sentences often tapered off with no ending. There were whole passages scribbled out so violently his pen had ripped the paper in places. There were crude drawings of brains and dark rain clouds in the margins.

Spencer,

I am so sorry you are going through this and that no one can give you the answers you seek. But this isn’t the end for you, even if it is schizophrenia, you can still live a full and normal life.

If you'll just hold on for one more second, if you just hold on to what you have, you will wake up tomorrow. Behind every rain cloud lies the sun. As Victor Hugo said in Les Miserables -

“Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.”

In his next few letters he seemed to be getting better, his headaches slowly dissipating until they only hassled him every once in a while. Things seemed to be looking up for him.

But then one of his best friends died.

His detailed letter told you all about Ian Doyle and Emily’s history with him and went on to conclude how she died on the operating table.

I’ve been through a lot of trauma in my life, lost a lot of people close to me but never like this. I’ve never had to bury someone I love and honestly I don’t know how to move past this.

My initial reaction has been dilaudid. It's the only thing I can think of to take the pain away.

Tell me not to do it, Y/N, please. Please tell me that this grief will get better and that using drugs again is not the answer. Please help me stay clean.

"When someone you love dies, and you're not expecting it, you don't lose her all at once; you lose her in pieces over a long time — the way the mail stops coming, and her scent fades from the pillows and even from the clothes in her closet and drawers.” John Irving - A Prayer for Owen Meany

It took you longer than it should have done to formulate a reply. You felt pressured, like his sobriety hung in your hands. You hated that his friend had died but you didn’t think it was fair of him to put this on you. And you told him such.

Spencer,

I am sorry to hear about Emily, I know how close the two of you were. I’m no expert on grief, I can’t tell you how to deal with this.

You know full well that using dilaudid again is a bad idea, you really don’t need me to tell you that. Honestly, I’m a little frustrated at you for putting this on my shoulders.

I am always here to help Spencer, in any way I can but sometimes I think you expect too much from me. We’ve been trading letters back and forth for the better part of five years and I don’t think you’ve ever really asked me about myself aside from those first initial letters.

And it’s fine, you needed this friendship more than I did. But over time this has started to feel so one sided and I don’t always look forward to your letters as much as I once did.

I realise this is not the best time for me to be saying these things but I can’t hold back any longer. I’m glad I can be someone you can turn to but I have my own life, my own issues and I have no one to talk to about them.

You put too much pressure on me Spencer and it’s a lot to take. I’ve tried to help shoulder your misery all these years but it’s starting to bring me down. All I can say is you need to wake up, you've gotta believe; you can't give up. Time keeps going on without us, long after we're dead and gone.

And you finished it with a simple quote from After You by Jojo Moyes.

“No journey out of grief was straightforward. There would be good days and bad days.”

It was no surprise to you that you didn’t receive a reply.

***

Y/N,

It’s been two years and I’m sorry for that. Two years, one month and eleven days. The truth is your last letter was hard for me to read as you can probably understand.

The hardest part of reading it was the fact that I knew you were right. I’ve been selfish all these years. I’ve treated you like a sounding board for my problems and never once asked how you were.

It's taken me time to write this because I wanted to get to a better place before I responded. I was angry at first, I felt like I was being abandoned again and my anger would not have been conducive.

Then I was hurt, hurt that the one person I thought would always be there for me had turned their back on me. I displaced my grief over Emily’s death onto you and anything I would have written in that time would have only been the rage fuelled epitaph of a grieving man.

And then once I dealt with those emotions, life simply got away from me. Emily was alive and well, her death was faked to get Doyle off of her back. Again I was angry about being lied to by my friends but eventually I was just happy she was alive.

Then I turned thirty and had a crisis of faith I suppose. I guess with my intellect I always assumed I would be doing something more with my life and turning thirty kind of threw me through a loop.

We had some changes to the team, new agents coming and going. All in all things have been somewhat hectic.

But that’s not why I’m writing.

I am writing because I really do want to know everything about you. I want you to be able to open up to me the way I always have to you. I want to be your shoulder, your repreve. I really hope I haven’t completely blown our friendship and I hope to be the kind of person who you can talk to.

These arms remain stretched out to you and maybe someday you'll accept them. Maybe it's too late to save a young girl's heart that's long stopped beating. But I hope that it isn’t.

“You have been in every way all that anyone could be…if anybody could have saved me it would have been you.” Jennifer Niven - All the Bright Places.

You wanted to tell him it was too little too late, that after two years of silence you weren’t interested anymore.

You wanted to simply not reply, ignore him entirely like he’d done to you.

But you couldn’t. And so you replied.

It was your longest letter to date, depicting in great detail how he’d made you feel over the years and all the hardships you’d faced without having someone to vent to.

But getting to write it all down had been purifying, and by the time you were finished you weren’t mad anymore.

I am willing to give this another shot, but things have to be different. If we’re to continue this friendship then it has to be a two way street.

But I can’t pretend that I haven’t missed your letters because I have. I see pieces of you between the words, parts of yourself I’m not sure you realise you leave on the page.

I’ve painted a picture of you in my mind's eye and even after two years with no letters, I’ve carried that picture with me wherever I go.

I feel like I somehow know you better than I know myself and I hope going forward you can start to know me the same way. Charlotte Bronte once said -

“Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear.” - Jane Eyre.

***

Spencer didn’t know how it happened, he only knew that it had happened. Over the course of all the years writing to you it was almost a surprise it hadn’t happened sooner. Or maybe it had and he just didn’t realise until now.

Spencer Reid had fallen in love with the woman who wrote her prose to him.

It had been ten years of letters, every single one of which he kept in their envelopes in date order in the bottom drawer of his desk at home.

Those letters were his lifelines on bad days, the one thing that kept him tethered. He didn’t even know what you looked like, even what you sounded like but he loved you. He loved you with every fibre of his being.

And he couldn’t stop himself from telling you exactly what you meant to him. Even if it inevitably destroyed what the two of you had, he couldn’t stop the words from flying across the page.

So that’s pretty much everything that’s happened these past few weeks. Mom’s doing ok but obviously it's a huge adjustment for her and I’m not entirely sure how long I can keep her living with me but for now it works.

How did the interview go? I have absolutely no doubts that you blew them all away with your presentation, you’re a hard person not to fall in love with.

Your presence in my life has brightened my every waking minute. You once told me that behind every rain cloud lies the sun; you are the sun behind my clouds. Your letters bring me back to life, your handwriting penned onto my soul.

Is it foolish of me to be in love with someone I have never laid eyes on? William Makepeace Thackery said in Vanity Fair -

“It is better to have loved wisely, no doubt: but to love foolishly is better than not to be able to love at all.”

I suppose that’s as good of an answer as any.

***

Five days after he penned his love confession, he was arrested in Mexico. Once all the drugs had left his system, only after he was extradited and arraigned and placed at Milburn was he able to dwell on the fact he never received your reply.

And being trapped in a cell gave him way too much time to think about that.

It was possible you had replied, maybe even just to tell him he was crazy to even think he could be in love with someone he had never met. But he was sure you wouldn’t have even bothered to respond, thinking him a lunatic you needed to cut ties with.

After a month in prison on one of JJ’s visits she brought a letter with her which she had found in his apartment. She recognised the handwriting on the envelope from several she’d seen him reading over the years.

She wasn’t allowed to give him the letter but she offered to read it to him. At first he’d declined because he had no idea what to expect from your reply but after several long minutes he’d decided to let JJ read it to him.

Spencer,

I am pleased to hear your mom is doing well but I do think you know that this solution won’t work in the long run. You say you live in a one bedroom apartment? You and I both know that you can’t sustain having your mother live there permanently. But I know you and I know you will figure out what’s best for you both.

The interview was amazing and they offered me the job on the spot. If it wasn’t for all your help with the presentation there is no way I would have gotten it, so thank you so much for that.

As for the other thing…

For some time now I have been wondering about feelings I didn’t understand. You’ve been such a large part of my life for so long and even though we’ve never met I feel like we have, if that makes sense? I feel like in my heart I know you. My heart knows your heart.

Falling for you was as inevitable as the sun rising each morning. Perhaps it is foolish but I believe Thackeray knew what he was talking about. And I also believe Emily Bronte was talking about me and you when she said, “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

Spencer had interrupted JJ then, when she was smiling from ear to ear as she read your words out loud.

“That’s enough.” He cut her off, burying his head in his hands.

“Wow, Spence, I had no idea you’d met someone.”

“I haven’t met anyone. She is simply a woman at the other end of a series of letters.”

“How long?” JJ placed the pages down in front of her.

Spencer looked up at her, a small blush on his cheeks. He didn't want to be talking about this, least of all on the other side of a plexiglass screen with his other inmates nearby but he responded all the same.

“Ten years.” He shrugged.

“Ten years?” JJ sounded incredulous. “Ten years of letters and you’ve never met? Why?”

“I, uh, it never really came up.” It wasn’t a lie, you’d never once discussed meeting in all those years.

“Is it like a distance thing? Does she live far away?”

“No,” He sighed with a shake of his head. “She’s in New York.”

“New York!” She huffed. “New York is a five hour train journey, Spence!”

“Jennifer, now is really not the time for this.” He lowered his voice as JJ’s had garnered eyes in their direction. “There is really no point in discussing this as we have no idea when or even if I’m going to get out of here.”

“Don’t say that.” She shook her head.

“It’s true.” He shrugged sadly. “I really can’t think about all this right now, ok? Just take the letter back to my apartment and pretend you didn’t see it. Please?”

If it weren’t for the desperation in his eyes she might have argued it. But she didn’t want to waste what little time she got to spend with Spencer fighting.

“Ok.” She relented with a small roll of her eyes.

“Thank you, JJ.” He offered a tight lipped smile. “How are the boys?”

JJ filled him in but she wasn’t really focused anymore. In her head, she was already penning a letter of her own…

Y/N,

My name is Jennifer Jareau, JJ, and I work with Spencer at the BAU. I’m not sure if he’s mentioned me to you or not. He hasn’t really told me too much about you if I’m honest. But I have learned that he has strong feelings for you and you for him. I’m wondering if I can make a suggestion…

***

When you received the strange letter from Spencer’s friend JJ in response to yours, you’d been initially extremely confused as to why he was letting his teammates read your secret correspondence.

But when she’d gone on to tell you that Spencer had been arrested along with all the details surrounding his incarceration and how she’d read your letter to him during their visitation, you started to understand.

But then a few days later, before you had a chance to reply to her, you received another letter from Spencer with a postmark from Milburn Correctional Facility.

Y/N,

Maybe Thackeray and Bronte were right or maybe they were wrong, I can’t say for sure. What I can say with certainty is that I can’t carry on like this a moment longer.

Something has happened to me, it won’t be hard for you to figure out what as soon as you see the postmark. I am not willing to get into it or explain how I ended up here. But I have no idea how long I am going to be inside and I don’t want the rest of our communication to be sent through a string of guards who will pick apart each tormented sentence.

I ask you not to write me back. This has to be the end of the road my dear. This letter has to be our last. I don’t know how much longer I will continue to be able to live like this. Each day my hope dies a little more and I’m sure I won’t make it out of here alive.

I am writing simply to say thank you. Thank you for all your years of listening, for all your patience and kind words and your hopeful prose. In my darkest hours you have shown me the light, dragged me out of the shadows of my own creation.

I love you for all that you are and all that you have done but even you can’t save me this time. This really might be the end for me and I don’t want you to blame yourself. You are the only reason I made it this far in this treacherous game we call life.

Take care of yourself, continue to live your absolute best life. And in time I pray that you forget me and are able to love someone far more tangible.

All that is left to say can be summed up by a quote from The Miniaturist -

“You are the sunlight through a window, which I stand in, warmed. My darling.” Jessie Burton.

You replied firstly to Spencer, his heartbreaking words more pressing than JJ’s letter. You kept it short and to the point, knowing that various other prison guards would read it before it even made it to his hands.

I appreciate but can't accept this thank you note that's sealed with your last breath and I won't stand aside and listen to you give up.

You are stronger than that Spencer Reid and if I know anything about your team from all the years of hearing you speak of them it’s that they are the best at what they do and they will prove your innocence.

Just remember what Ernest Hemmingway said in A Farewell to Arms -

“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are stronger at the broken places.”

You will be stronger at those broken places, Spencer, I have no doubt about it.

And besides, if you don’t make it out of there, how do you propose to ever meet me?

Whilst on a role, you grabbed a clean sheet of paper and started scrawling again.

Jennifer,

Thank you for your letter. I have spent some time musing on your suggestion and I think you might be right.

I think it's time for me to take a trip to DC…

***

Spencer never opened your last letter because he had no intention of replying to it. If he didn’t read it, he could pretend you had never sent it and he wouldn’t be tempted to write a response.

Instead he stuffed it between the pages of his book and tried not to think about it.

After two and half months his team proved his innocence and he was released but he was thrown into the deep end of trying to find his mother.

And even once he found her unscathed, he was rapidly thrust right into Scratch’s web after he kidnapped Emily.

Taking the elevator back up to the BAU alongside JJ after they’d escorted Emily to the hospital it already felt like a lifetime had passed since he left prison. And all he wanted to do was chronicle all of it to you.

Maybe once the dust settled, once he’d wrapped his head around everything that happened he would open your letter and send you a reply.

But for the first time in ten years, Spencer didn’t want to drag you into his mess.

JJ was strangely quiet as the elevator made its ascent. He didn’t even want to be here, he’d planned on going straight home after leaving the hospital. He hadn’t slept in his own bed for two and a half months and he couldn’t wait to collapse into it.

But JJ had insisted that instead of him getting the metro home, if he popped back to the BAU with her to collect some paperwork, she would drive him home.

And honestly he was just too exhausted to decline.

JJ’s eyes were hyper focused on the digital floor numbers as they got higher. A few seconds after it displayed number five, one floor below the BAU, she turned and looked at him.

“Don’t hate me for this.” She blurted out.

“Excuse me?” Spencer frowned, too tired to try to understand what she meant.

“I couldn’t just let it go.” She shrugged, a guilty smile on her lips.

“Let what go?” His frown deepened.

Her eyes flicked back upwards as the number five rolled into the number six and the elevator started to judder as it prepared to stop.

“Just remember I love you and that’s the only reason I interfered.” She shrugged as the elevator stopped entirely and soon the doors were peeling open.

Spencer looked away from her and out of the open doors to where someone was standing just a few feet back.

Spencer’s eyes landed on the stranger only it wasn’t a stranger. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew exactly who this person was standing on the BAU floor.

He remembered the way JJ had read him your letter and how you’d told him your heart knows his heart.

Well his heart knew yours too. And he knew the heart beating a few feet away from him was yours.

“Y/N?” He croaked, slowly stepping out of the elevator but not too close to you.

“Spencer?” You smiled at him, the kind that reached all the way to your eyes.

Neither of you noticed JJ slipping quietly away, wanting to give you some privacy.

“What are you doing here?” His brows were furrowed and he was rolling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You’re friend JJ wrote to me. She told me everything that happened to you. And she made me realise that ten years is too long to wait for a first meeting.” Your voice was like honey to Spencer’s ears.

Your prose was beautiful, but hearing the words from your lips as you stood in front of him in all your ethereal glory was more than any letter could convey.

“I…I am actually speechless.” He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.

“You? Speechless?” You giggled and Spencer felt the sound all the way to his heart.

“You’ll come to learn I am much more of a wordsmith on paper. In person I am incredibly awkward and often trip over my words. I ramble when I’m nervous or clam up entirely, no in between. I spout facts and statistics rather than have a meaningful conversation. I am much more comfortable writing my words down on paper than speaking them out loud.” He let the words spill out of his mouth, proving his point entirely.

“I’ve waited ten years to hear your voice. Please never stop talking.” You smiled so brightly at him he felt like he was floating.

You were here in front of him, not just hidden between pages of letters. You were real, tangible; within his reach.

And suddenly the last thing Spencer wanted to do was talk.

He took a few tentative steps towards you and cautiously raised a hand to your cheek. You sighed in content when he cupped your face and nuzzled against his palm.

“I could talk to you about anything and everything all day long, my love.” He smiled, inching his face closer to yours. “But at this moment in time I have one slightly more pressing desire to do with my mouth rather than speak.”

“Oh yeah?” You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

The warmth of your body and your smile encompassed him. As he looked into your eyes, finally looked into your eyes, every bad thing that had ever happened to him slipped away.

“Love starts as a feeling, but to continue is a choice. And I find myself choosing you, more and more every day.” He quoted Justin Wetch’s Bending the Universe.

“Spence?”

“Yes Y/N?”

“As sweet as that is, I thought there were more pressing desires to use your mouth for?”

“If you insist.” He smiled and quickly closed the small space between you.

When his lips finally met yours it felt like all the pieces of the universe were falling into place.

For ten long years you’d communicated in the pages of letters, constructing replies to what felt like one sided conversations that were confined to only live on paper.

As the kiss deepened every single one of those words seemed to float in the air around you, spiralling like a tornado made of a decade worth of missives.

He swore he could hear each and every word whispered to him in the voice he’d longed to hear all these years as he kissed you like you were the most important being on the face of the earth.

And when he pulled back and mumbled I love you against your lips, it was the easiest reply you’d ever given.

#milestone celebration #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

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merbear25 · 7 months

Text

Them fawning over a musician

After some time, you've finally made a name for yourself in the music industry, albite still not the biggest star. At one of your gigs, you catch someone's attention who just so happens to be a well-known pirate.

CW: SFW, gn!reader, headcanons, suggestive in Kid's

Zoro, Sanji, Law, Kid

Zoro: The type of music: folk/indie. He enjoys the traditional aspects of folk and feels like it paints a story of that area or country. Likes that indie has no restraints, leaving more control in the hands of the artist.

Walking through the city center, tunes started fading in from the distance. He followed them and came up on a small crowd of people, who were listening to you with contemptment. You were radiating confidence with each note played and sang.

Watching you preform wasn't just entertaining, it was admirable. You'd clearly put a lot of thought into your stage presence: the melody was pleasant, the lyrics were meaningful, and your voice was breathtaking.

After your performance, he casually approached you. Upon seeing him, you couldn't help feeling at least a little intimidated—a large man marching up to you who has scars and also carries three swords would cause anyone to take a step back. However, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. The question was innocent; he came to ask you about a verse in your song.

You two ended up having a genuinely interesting conversation. Without realizing how much time had passed, you offered to grab a drink (your treat), so that you could continue this in a more comfortable setting. He shrugged at your suggestion but accepted none the less. You were not prepared for the tab that would be waiting for you.

Sanji: The type of music: blues/jazz. He would admire the soul and emotion that goes into the lyrics and playing of the instruments. Can get caught up in the passion of those performing on stage.

He was out shopping for a few ingredients but decided to pop into a cavern for a drink. Once ordering, that night's talent started. You didn't have his full attention at first: the beginning of your first song was instrumental. His head was bobbing along to the tune, but when he heard your voice, he became entranced.

Promptly turning towards the stage, the realization of being in the presence of a rising star was more than aparent. The emotion being conveyed in your voice tugged at his heart strings. The slight sway of your hips were mesmerizing.

Even though he wasn't far from the stage, he needed to be closer to fully appreciate your elegance. So as not to have his view of you obstructed by other onlookers, he took a seat near the front of the stage.

When your final song came to a close, he was left feeling astonished, so much so that he forgot to applaud. You shot a charming grin his way, which instantly bewitched him. He took that as an invitation to come and talk to you. Complimenting each and every aspect of you and your talent, he managed to stay gentlemanly, although he'd jump at the opportunity to swoon over you if you let him.

Law: The type of music: pop/rock. He would never admit it, but he loves the upbeat side of pop. Even though rock is very different to pop, it shows the raw emotion that he can connect with.

There was an event being held downtown that just so happened to be taking place during one of his outtings. From the first note, he snapped his body towards the direction of the stage. Momentarily forgetting where he was and what he was doing, he made his way to you, only being led by your allure.

He would know exactly who you are. Not just that, but he'd secretly be your biggest fan. Despite standing in awe while you were preforming, he'd be suppressing his excitement throughout it all. Showcasing it wasn't his style, though he was still anchored at the corner of the stage, mouth gaping from the sheer bewilderment.

When you finished, he awkwardly loomed around the stage. It was hard to ignore what with his pacing back and forth and hesitation. He just seemed overly nervous to you, so you opted against giving him the cold shoulder.

You asked him if he liked the show, making him gasp quietly. After you acknowledged him, he found the courage to ask you for an autograph. You gladly wrote one out for him and ended up chit chatting a bit, mostly one sided since he's still a bit starstruck.

Kid: The type of music: punk/metal. Probably headbangs to it in his free time but also listens to it casually when he's tinkering in his workshop. He gets worked up and ready to take everyone on.

This city was just intended to be a quick pit stop to reload on resources. The sun was already setting which signaled to the Kid Pirates that it was about time to crack open a few cold ones. While taking a short-cut through an alley, a flashy poster caught Kid's eye. No fucking way. One of the bands he jams to was playing in this city? Tonight?? Snatching it off the wall, he rushed off.

Upon reaching the, somewhat, junkyard where your band was playing, he unabashedly shoved his way to the very front. Hearing how heavy your band memebers were coming down on the instruments and the rasp in your voice made the beast within him unleash. He would undoubtedly be the one to start a mosh pit, and in doing so, you wouldn't be able to take your eyes off of him.

After he was satisfied with the chaos he'd spread throughout the crowd, you received his undivided attention. When your eyes met, you gave him a sly smirk for the mess he'd caused. Seeing that gave him the ego boost he needed to chat you up after the show.

Following the last song, you were met with a more than eager Kid waiting for you. You sauntered your way over to him, cooly asking if he liked what he saw. Leaning in closer to you, Kid now had the impulsive idea to get with you. He wasn't being subtle about his intentions in the slightest, leaving the ball in your court.

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dragonshoardofworks · 4 months

Text

DannyMerMay 2024

Day 1: Insect/Anchor

The return of Little Baby Moth! (From last year DannyMay)

Something happened since last time the two of them met, so LBMo is reasonably surprised to see Little Baby Man Mer's new form... or is this just an alternative dimension iteration of LBM (by @tourettesdog)? 🤔

(Keep reading to find the answer!)

@pikakaistudios Little Baby Mer inspired me in doing my own, so Kudos and credits where are due!

More fanarts and lore under the cut because it was getting long...

(^～^;)ゞ

Prompt for DannyMay by @dannymayevent and MerMay by @vladdyissues.

〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜

Since I'm a serial procrastinator and I wanted to be sure the art pieces were at least decent/accurate, I was almost late (but thank CW that I did, because some of them had the wrong orca-pattern and I would have brought disgrace upon myself if I published anything not done right since orcas are one of my favorite animals).

That being said, let's continue the DannyMerMay journey!

Day 12: Time Travel/Seafood

My poor Mer-boy got yoinked temporalily into the past when he was still Danny (so even before the "normal" LBM-fication) and he's feeling reeeaaally distressed at the act of practically cannibalism that his past-self is committing...

(≧∇≦)

Day 2+4+29: Wish/Starfish + Wander/Night + Fireworks/Bioluminescence

Wandering in the night, some interesting encounters are bound to happen...

I wonder what would happen if you wish upon a(n alien) star(fish)...

(≧∇≦)

Day 19+20: Iron/Pearl + Pitch AU/Abyss

LBMer found a his rightful Crown (of Fire) sunk into the depths of the ocean!

But since it was rusty and forgotten, what better way to restore it than ghostly mother pearl?

(Works like ghostly ice, but it's an exclusive power of LBMer.)

(The Crown got bigger than canon, but he smol!)

Day 26: Shoes/Camouflage

They say that imitation is one of the best form of flattery, but when you don't want to get caught by a certain dimensional hopper (and be mistaken for one of his foes), it's the best way to blend in!

(Octopi can camouflage in ways that make you think that magic is real...)

ฅ^≧ﻌ≦^ฅ

(Little Baby Terror unfortunately got caught in the same "accident" that LBM did, so they generally prefer to stick together-ish in case they need help.)

Day 16+22: Glowing Veins/Courtship + Song Lyrics/Songs

I couldn't help myself and sneaked in some Everlasting Trio for the soul.

After all, LBM (and therefore LBMer) is still Danny, even if he has new form(s) and instincts.

They do incarnate the "Would you still love me if I was a worm?", don't they?

(◡̀_◡́)

Song: A Sky Full of Stars by Coldplay

(It feels such a Danny song to use, plus I checked how orcas court and while there's some posturing, they also sing! It felt only natural from there... >:3c)

Day 11: Mutation/Shell(s)

And finally: the answer!

LBM found this weird shell on the beach while they were on vacation, but when he checked it (read: nibbed it), it reacted and tooted a magical cloud that mutated our Little Baby Man into a Mer!

(The same fate happened to Dani/Little Baby Menace and Dan/Little Baby Terror, changing them into a Seahorse Mer and Octopus Mer respectively.

I've got a lineart done of them for another prompt, but I didn't manage in time to clean and color it yet, along with a couple of others... ( ≧Д≦) )

This has two versions because I couldn't decide which was better. @teacupsandstarlight suggested the first because of the transforming smoke around our boi, but since I saved both, I told myself: why not upload both?

For now, that's all! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

I still have some linearts to finish/digitalize/color, but at least I contributed to these two fantastic events, hope y'all enjoyed them and my works!

Hope to type ya soon! ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

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eyesofshinigami · 8 months

Text

Half A Heart (Without You)

Rating: G

CW: None

Tags: Established relationship, light angst, pre-rockstar Eddie, pining

Prompt: From @lihhelsing: "Love is missing each other"

WC: 1208

Written for @steddielovemonth Day 10

It was everything he’d ever wanted, getting to perform. The tour they were on wasn’t huge or anything, opening for another band, but Eddie knew it was something. It felt like the beginning of something big. He loved the way it felt to play on stage, the roar of the crowd and the heavy bass thumping in his chest as they played the songs they’d written, the songs Eddie had written. Hearing people screaming his own lyrics back to him was a high that he couldn’t describe.

It was almost enough to fill the hole in his chest.

Once the crowds had left and the lights were down, it would come rushing back in. The high had faded and Eddie was left feeling a little empty, a little sad.

He missed Steve like a lost limb.

Eddie couldn’t ask for a more supportive partner; Steve had encouraged him to go ahead and take the opportunity, even if it meant six months apart. While Eddie was traveling the south, playing for crowds, Steve was back in Indiana, studying with Robin in Indianapolis and building a life for Eddie to come back to. Even if the music thing took off and Eddie got to be the rock star of his dreams, he knew Steve was making sure he had a safe place to land.

That didn’t change the fact that Eddie missed him, missed him so hard it made him feel like he might collapse in on himself. He’d be devoured by the need to see the man he loved until there was nothing left of him to bring back home.

He waved off the other guys when they got back to the hotel. They teased him a little, but they understood. As much as Eddie had envisioned living his rock and roll dreams as a kid, surrounded by drugs and groupies and getting his fill of the high-life, none of that compared to what he had waiting for him back in Indiana.

So, he waited by the phone. He’d left a message on Steve’s answering machine earlier in the day with the number to his room so he’d have it, and now Eddie would wait. He’d wait all night if he had to.

But he didn’t. Soon, the phone was ringing and Eddie snatched it up and answered, “Steve??”

Steve laughed down the line and the sound made Eddie shiver in the best way. “Hey baby. How was the show?”

Eddie melted into the bed, talking low and telling Steve about the crowd, the response they got. Steve listened and interjected in all the right places, then they moved on to talk about how Steve’s classes were going, about how the kitten he’d found on the street was getting used to the apartment.

“I did have to hide her in the cabinet when the landlord came by. She’s a smart girl, she stayed quiet. It was like she knew!”

Steve laughed again and the sound made Eddie choke up, tears filling his eyes. He missed hearing that laugh in person, being able to see the way Steve’s nose scrunched up and he held his chest when he really got going. It made him ache. “Eds? Did I lose you?”

Eddie sniffled. “No, I’m here. I just… I really fucking miss you.”

“Baby, I miss you too. So much. Bed’s too empty without you to starfish over me and steal the covers.”

Eddie laughed wetly, wiping at his eyes. “Just one more month, and I’ll be home.”

“You’ll be home,” Steve agrees with a low hum.

He turned over and kept the phone pressed to his ear. If Eddie closed his eyes, he could pretend he was laying on Steve’s chest, listening to his voice and feeling Steve’s skin beneath his fingers. “I didn’t realize how hard this was going to be,” Eddie admitted quietly.

Steve sighs. “It’ll be okay, Eds. We’re making it work, right? And just think, if you hit it big, you can afford a fancy plane to fly home whenever you want.” There was a hitch in his voice, just barely there, and it made Eddie’s heart hurt. “You know, if it’s too much-“

“Don’t even suggest that. You’re stuck with me, you know that. I could be the most famous rockstar the world has ever seen but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere but where you are,” Eddie said fiercely. The very idea of letting Steve go made him sick to his stomach. Who else would understand where all of Eddie’s nightmares that fuel their songs came from, why he refused to wear anything that shows the scars on his stomach on stage. Who else knew how to love his body even when it felt like a warzone and it hurt and twisted and made him want to scream?

No one, that’s who.

“Eddie, you know I’d be with you the end of the world. I’ve just got one more year, and then I can follow you wherever you go, we can settle wherever we need to. I’m easy, baby, and you’ve got me.”

He knew that. Eddie knew that down to his bones. Maybe that was one of the reasons why he wanted to make it big, so he could take care of Steve and keep him close and Eddie could have everything he ever wanted. It was selfish, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. “Follow me and be my kept man? Let buy you nice things like a trophy husband?”

It was Steve’s turn to laugh, the sound thick. Eddie wasn’t the only one crying. “I’d make an excellent housewife and we both know it.”

“One hundred percent, baby.” Eddie looked at the clock and sighed. The crash from the show was creeping up on him, and he knew that Steve was probably tired from school and work. As much as he hated it, he knew it was about time to cut this off. “I love you so much, Steve. Thank you for waiting for me.”

“And I love you. I’d always wait for you. A love like ours is worth it, don’t you think?”

Fuck if his boyfriend wasn’t the most romantic asshole on the planet. Steve’s words hit him right in the chest and Eddie felt more tears slide down his cheeks. “You know it. They’ll write a billion songs about our love, just you watch.”

“Don’t need theirs. I just need yours,” Steve said, before he lets out a jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m sorry, Eds. Long day. Call tomorrow before you hit the road?”

“Yeah. Get some sleep, sweetheart. You’ll be in my dreams tonight.” Eddie swallowed around the lump in his throat.

Steve mumbled out a goodbye and they hung up, and for a long moment, Eddie just listened to the sound of the dial tone in his ear before he put the phone back in the cradle. He curled up, taking deep breaths to keep from crying. He loved the thrill of performing, but he also could admit in the dark of his hotel room that maybe he loved Steve more, and even though he could have both, it fucking hurt to be without his baby.

One more month. Just one more month. Then he would be home.

#steddielovemonth #steddie #light angst #rating: g

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raindrop-21 · 10 months

Text

Songs and Suds

A/n: First ever fic/drabble bear with me

Word count: 1,174

Cw: Hybrid character, can be read as gn but "breasts" is used to describe reader's chest a couple times, reader is called "Maus" a few times

summary: After a total bust of a concert, you and König went back to your hotel to get warmed up after getting rained on, it seems a bath is the only way to get König off your chest.

Song because it's mentioned in the fic:

You and your cornel, König, had shared a love for music. It started a year ago when you caught him humming the lyrics to one of your favorite songs. From then on, you had shared songs and bands you had come across with each other, slowly bonding over the music to your now relationship. At the start of the year, a band you like, Ghost, announced their tour. You told König, and he was all for it. Sadly, due to work, you couldn’t go to any of the European concerts, but you could both request leave to go see one of the American shows. Your leaves were accepted, and you both went to America a few days before the concert started to get comfortable in your hotel room.

The hotel is a bit more expensive than you would’ve liked, but König insisted on getting it and just couldn’t say no to him because he was the one paying for it. On the day of the concert, you got up early, showered, and when it got closer to being time to head to the concert venue, you put on your band tee and did your makeup to match that of the frontman’s. König was wearing a band tee and a surgical mask with the band logo on it.

You got in the car and headed to the venue. Once inside the venue, you found your seats and waited for the concert to start. As the opening band came out, it was slightly raining, and they started their first song. You could feel the song reverberating throughout your body. About halfway through the third song, it started raining even harder than it was before, and they had to stop because the stage got flooded. They tried cleaning off the stage, but as they were cleaning, it started thundering, and lightning started lighting up the sky.

The venue staff evacuated everyone in the venue and sent everyone back to their cars. While everyone was waiting for updates as to what was happening, you and König were sitting in your car with the heat on, just like others at the venue. The heat was doing nothing; you were both still cold and wet. Due to how cold it was, König had transformed into his hybrid state and crawled under your shirt to try and get any sliver of warmth he could. After three hours of waiting and three shitty updates, the venue Facebook had finally said that the show was cancelled, so you started driving back to the hotel.

Once back at the hotel, you’re still wet and cold, and König is still between your breasts. König, who had taken solace in the space between your breasts, pulling them together with his tentacles to try and warm himself up, is shivering. You had noticed his shivering since he had gotten between your breasts. Noticing his shivering, you suggest he take a bath.

“König, I can feel you shivering; you should go take a bath.”

The only response you get is him shaking his little head and making an annoyed clicking sound. You sigh and decide to try again.

“König, you need to warm up. You won’t get warm staying there.”

He refuses with an annoyed chirp and a shake of his head again. You sigh again, this time in defeat, and internally say “Fuck it” as you decide that if he won’t do it himself, you’ll do it for him.

You walk into the bathroom, turn on the faucet to a warm setting, and start disrobing. Once you’re fully nude, with König still attached to your chest, you slide into the warm water. As your cold body makes contact with the warm water, you let out a content hiss at the feeling. König opens his beady little eyes at the sound you made and the now-warm temperature of the air around the two of you.

He moves one of his tentacles to test the temperature of the water. Feeling the warmth of the water against the coldness of his tentacle, he lets out a happy chirp before wiggling himself off your chest and into the water. As he wiggles into the water, you reach for one of your favorite soaps that you brought with you to the hotel and add some to the water. As the water starts to foam up, you watch as König starts playing in the suds. As you watch him play in the suds, you decide that if you couldn't see Ghost live, you’d listen to their songs now.

You grab your phone, open the playlist for the setlist that you have made, and put it on shuffle. “Spillways” starts playing, and the lyrics and instruments start echoing throughout the bathroom.

As you relax into the warmth of the tub and the sound of the music, König uses his tentacles to take a washcloth and wash your body. Slowly run it over your face, neck, chest, arms, stomach, and legs. He uses a small cup to rinse off the soap on your body before transforming into his human form (thank God the tub’s huge) and requesting you do the same. You slowly run the soap-covered washcloth over his back, arms, chest, and legs before washing it off of him.

After your bath, you both dry off and get dressed. Once you are both dry and dressed, you both go lay in bed. He holds you in his arms as you wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle your face into his neck.

“I’m sorry, Maus our first concert together, and it wasn’t really even a concert.” König mumbles into your hair as he rubs your back.

“It’s not your fault, Kö; it’s the venues’.” You softly say back as you lightly give him a squeeze.

"But I could’ve chosen a different show date to go to, and you would’ve been able to see them. You’ve wanted to since you knew about the band.” He replies in a tone that says he truly thinks it’s his fault.

“König. It’s not your fault that this show of theirs just so happens to be at an incompetent venue that claims ‘rain or shine’, but doesn’t have proper coverage of the band’s equipment. And plus, this most likely won’t be the band's last tour. They’ll probably have another tour next year that we can go to. Now, no more of this, and let’s go to bed on a happy note.” You reply in a tone that tells him that there is no arguing and he should probably just go to sleep.

“Okay, Maus, fine. It’s not my fault.” He says with a chuckle as he senses the non-nogotian in your voice. “Let’s go to sleep. Love you, Maus.”

“Love you too, Kö. Goodnight." You reply happily as you both drift off to sleep in each other's arms.

The concert may have been a bust, but you didn’t let it ruin your night. The night was bound to end with you in your lover’s arms, concert or not.

@littlebluespoon a little gift from your beloved Burbur anon <3

(banner by @bangssefi)

#könig #könig x reader #octo!könig #the band ghost #ghost #fluff #Spotify #rain writes

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stopaskinf · 5 months

Text

“I think we can last forever.”

Things Ateez boys remind me of:

Summary: This is the part.2 of my series of “things kpop idols reminds me of”

Genre: Fluff, Ateez hyung line

Word count: 1K

CW: Honestly, there are a few suggestive lines in this, but other than that nothing much. (MDNI on my page in general)

A/N: This one is more casual than my BTS reminders. Honestly don’t know how I feel about this, but hope yall enjoy.🫡

Hongjoong:

🪲Scorpions: It might have to do with the fact that he is canonically a Scorpio, but also the contrasting idea that something so small can be so prickly and deadly when it wants to be.

🪲To add to that thought: Hongjoong reminds me of bug lollipops. Specifically ones with scorpions, spiders, and beetles. Combining the sweet, childlike flavors and colors of lollipops with the primal fear and disgust people have of bugs screams Hongjoong to me. Maybe it's the deadliness transparent beneath the sugary outside.

🪲Smoke, specifically cigarette smoke. I’m not sure if he smokes in real life or not, but he always gives me the vibe that he smells of nicotine and Jean Paul Gaultier cologne. Imagine he takes a break during an interview and he just has a Marlboro between his fingers that he steps out as the staff calls him back to continue his captain duties.

🪲Additionally, this is very specific but I feel like he has a tad minty smell to him. Even if he does or doesn’t smoke, I feel like he’s the type to always have gum on him. Type of guy who needs to be prepared for any situation and to calm his nerves. He also may have an oral fixation

🪲 Chipped nail polish. I feel like he’s been seen with chipped nails before. However, I cannot remember. It’s pretty self-explanatory; his love of queer and androgynous figures combined with being an idol on top of his bad sense of self-care leads to chipped nails.

Seonghwa:

🐇Lofi beats: The aesthetic of his Lego building lives is this. Additionally, whenever I see him, I feel like he’s the type who needs something lowkey in a lot of moments. He needs something almost comforting after he finishes his work.

🐇 Anime endings: The same reasoning applied to Lofi beats applies to this. A constant need for something more soft and sweet. Almost melancholy and quiet when compared to the bright energy of their openings. It’s something to signal that there’s no need to put in more energy because you’ve already completed what you needed to.

🐇 Polaroids: Another thing that I’m pretty sure has been attached to either him or Ateez. I feel like Seonghwa if given the time, would be good at photography. Polaroid cameras would be his favorite because of their easy portability and the intimacy of it. He can just pull it out any moment and take a beautiful candid shot that he can keep hung up in his room. Something that he took himself and gets to keep.

🐇 Valentino perfumes- this one is pretty simple. Valentino prides itself on their gender-neutral scents so it makes sense that Seong Hwa gets associated with it. Specifically, the Uomo born in Roma perfume reminds me of him. Genderless, sleek, and subtly powerful.

🐇 Cute keychains - Seonghwa looks to love cute things. He’s also constantly on the move, so cute keychains seem up his alley. Something small from a lover that he can carry around as a sign of devotion and affection. Something superficially cute but to him holds a silent love story.

Yunho:

🌼 High school crushes - The type of guy you see in class once and you instantly get attracted. He’s tall, sweet, friendly. Everything you could want in a high school boyfriend. He’s a little awkward and uncoordinated, but the small things like walking you to and from your classes and sitting with you at lunch? Makes every flaw unnoticeable.

🌼 Headphones - He seems like the type who likes to enclose himself. Specifically, with music. The ability to focus and lose himself within the melodies and lyrics refreshes him. Especially when he’s listening to a song that reminds him of his lover.

🌼Anime love interest - He feels like a shoujo ML. The guy who is desired by all, but had by only one. The tall, beautiful man who calmly introspects and throws himself into vulnerability. He is the type of guy who looks at you and says, “I like you way more than you think…” He has the type of love that feels pure, almost everlasting.

🌼 That one ML manhwa sweater - Y’all know exactly what sweater I’m talking about. This connects to the anime love interest in that he feels too good to be true. The guy who you’ve always dreamed about, but thought was unrealistic. Additionally, whenever I see comfy sweaters, it always reminds me of him. He needs to wear something comfortable to keep himself cozy and soft. Oh, and to make sure you have something to borrow from him.

🌼Old white sneakers - Yunho feels nostalgic. The type of person who gladly accepts change and challenges because he sees them as a sign of love. To be loved is to be changed. He’ll wear his scars and rough edges with pride, for you shaped him.

Yeosang:

🍄Green - This is mostly due to his crazy form hair and that one SCRUMPTIOUS bouncy shirt. However, it’s also because he reminds me of nature. He has an almost fairy/nymph-like quality. The beautiful face lures you deeper and deeper into the woods, only to trap you within its beautiful prison. You’re both moths to each other’s flame.

🍄London blue - This color feels elegant, almost regal. It gives the feeling of something encased within time but also out of it. Something that feels freighting and mysterious when it encompasses a house, though that quality makes it even more alluring.

🍄 Music boxes - Yeosang reminds me of very material but immaterial things. A small dancer frozen in time that only shows their beauty when called upon. Something delicate but sturdy. Beautiful, but skittish.

🍄 Precious little moments - Another thing that is immaterial and a little silly. Something about those little porcelain figures with their big eyes and warm but stagnant smiles. It’s familiar, friendly, but immovable.

🍄Faded scraps/scabs - This is different when compared to the rest. They’re little blemishes that tell long-ago stories. You fell on concrete when you were a child, you accidentally cut yourself with a knife, or you fell out of a tree. Moments that brought so much pain that it’s engraved onto you. Something that seemed so harrowing, but now you hardly notice. Unless someone else points it out, of course.

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starqueensthings · 3 months

Text

Ficlets inspired by Song Lyrics:

Crazy Girl, Don’t You Know That I Love You?

Song: “Crazy Girl” by Eli Young Band (country)

Rating/Warnings: 16+ for mildly suggestive themes | CW: anxiety, somewhat irrational fears of death.

POV/WC: 2nd | 1500ish.

A/N: something weird has come over me!! I’ve somehow managed to keep this to a one shot and not develop 300 pages of unnecessary lore!! Brevity?! Is that you?! I don’t think we’ve ever met before! Hi I’m Holly!

“Crazy girl, don’t you know that I love you? I wouldn’t dream of going nowhere. Silly woman, come here and let me hold you. Have I told you lately, I love you like crazy, girl?”

Other Written Works Here

“Ugh, I should get up.”

Sentiments leaving those lips in little more than a contemptuous growl, he’d uttered that necessity nearly a dozen times now while the chrono continued to tick the future ever closer. Though, as if waiting for some unseen, divine force to grasp his shoulders and simply heave him upward from the ineffable warmth and comfort of that squashy, blanket-laden bed, the only muscle spared that lassitude were the few required to drape his arm across your hips and tug you backward until your curves matched those of his chiseled form.

But his repeated probes for motivation acted as only merciless reminders of yet another imminent absence, and further intensified the plaguing sense of foreboding that had you either unwilling or unable to turn and face him; the near-painful constriction in your chest brought on by his incipient departure ensuring your thoughts remained only that, as voicing a response to that sleepy room – that dawdling soldier – threatened instead to escape your lips as little more than a sob.

“Kriff, I really need to get moving…”

The resolve to maintain any semblance of composed pride vanished as, instead of lifting his body from that white cotton sanctuary, he leant forward slightly and gifted the slope of your neck a series of chaste kisses; hearty sniffle instantly exposing your hidden turmoil as his unexpected display of adoration sent you careening into the harrowing pit of anxiety you’d desperately attempted to shirk.

It took even less than a breath for that newly-stubbled chin to cease its ministrations atop your skin. “Are you upset?” he asked you, the heat of his breath departing your neck as he tipped back to survey your seemingly unexpected demeanor. “What’s wrong?”

“M’fine,” you choked back at him, hurrying to dispel that wetness from your cheeks with a gruff swipe from the back of your hand.

“Nice try,” he argued, chin sinking only slightly as he glared through those dark lashes in your direction. “Roll over. Tell me what’s going on.”

For a moment you considered simply ignoring that polite command, as watching those mismatched eyes absorb the fear neath your features only promised to swaddle you with an embarrassment equi-paralyzing as your present anguish… but more powerful was the realization that those same eyes would be entirely absent for the foreseeable future, and neglecting the opportunity further memorize every inch of that slender, olive skinned face would present as nothing more than your deepest regret should you never see it again.

With a laden sigh, you shifted your weight and rolled over, perching your head atop a bent arm while your free hand traced thoughtless lines atop the small section of uninhabited sheet between your bare bodies.

“I’m just… Well I feel kinda… I dunno,” you started, nearly cringing at how juvenile those words sounded whilst spilling so meekly from your lips. “I just get scared sometimes… Ever since what happened on the Triumphant… Ever since all those men…”

“Mesh’la—”

“What if that happens again?”

”I’m an infantry Commander now, Mes—”

”Okay then what if it’s a bomb that drops out of nowhere? A bunch of droids you didn’t see? Bad intel from stale recon?”

“M—”

“Or what if you do something brash on your next mission because someone’s gone and pissed you off, and it ends up being your demise because you were too busy scowling to watch for an ambush? What happens then? Am I just supposed to go on living without you like that’s even possible?”

Cursing the way your chin quivered atop the divulgence of your fears, you paused for a breath, gaze refusing to depart the mindless squiggles your fingertip still insisted on embossing into the soft sheet between you. But that astute Commander, your loving boyfriend, refused to entertain any degree of distraction in that moment, hurrying to place a calloused hand atop your own to cease the relentless attempts at placating the exposed anxieties of its owner.

Finally meeting his gaze, you spluttered, “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. Every time you leave, it just feels like you’re not coming home.”

That soft hitch between dark brows released the tension they’d adopted whilst attempting to follow your desultory reasoning, eyes softening in earnest as they danced to and fro from the contours of your still-trembling chin to the small cataract of tears now escaping the corner of your eye and landing with muted thuds atop the bed next your elbow. But no sooner had that softness emerged was it replaced by an unprecedented levity… the corners of his mouth perking upward as he fought to repress the smirk vying to erupt across those lips.

“Why are you smiling?!” you demanded upon watching his eyes narrow neath crinkled lids, suddenly aghast at the gallish mirth doming his cheeks. “What the kriff is so funny?”

“Nothing,” he defended, only barely repressing the chortle nestled in his throat. “Nothing is funny. I’d tell you not to worry, but you’re not going to bel—”

“Ugh! Just forget it!”

Turmoil suddenly banished by a burgeoning indignation, you sat bolt upright atop that now unwelcoming bed, tossing the sheet from your form and burying your toes into the soft carpet. Ignoring his objection, you snatched your robe from its discarded perch on the floor and stuffed your arms impetuously into each sleeve, nose tipping ever higher into the air as your frustration grew amid every snickering objection still spilling from his lips.

“Ey!” he eventually called as your hand reached for the door of your bedroom, the sudden banishment of all humour neath his tone capturing your attention only enough to still your movements. “Come over here.”

Again, the urge to ignore him presented itself strongly, defiance flaring in your chest in the echoing wake of his amusement, narrowed eyes glaring fiercely at the otherwise austere wood door still barring your exit.

“Cyare,” he warned as your failure to accede his demand continued.

You peeked over your shoulder, that ire quickly dissipating upon first sight of his miraculous figure suddenly exposed and near-glowing amid the budding light of a quickly materializing dawn; that perfectly contoured chest heaving gently amid the deep breaths that had fuelled his shift in posture, the rolling hills of muscle neath his shoulders put on display by their perch atop equally as muscular thighs, one elbow sitting near impatiently on his knee.

Upon the return of your gaze, he clicked his tongue, free hand jabbing a pointed finger toward the floor directly in front of his seat atop the side of that bed, and, infuriatingly so, there wasn’t a force anywhere in the galaxy strong enough to keep your feet still once he’d resorted to non-verbal commands.

Gaze dropping to your hands, you returned to that bedside, standing between his knees and permitting a poignant sigh to blast past your scowling lips.

“I’m sorry I laughed,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you as close as the edge of the mattress would permit, and watching him gently perch his chin just above your navel and gaze lovingly up into your eyes had your stomach lurching, as if the floor below your feet had utterly vanished the moment his eyes locked upon yours. “And you know it kills me that you feel like that… but I need you to trust me.”

Swallowing the reemergence of the lump in your throat, you placed your hands atop his shoulders and nodded faintly.

“Trust that I’m good at what I do…” he continued, tightening the wreath of his arms around your body, seemingly preparing for the chance his words may see you hurtling from the room again. “Damn good. And you need to trust that everything I do, every decision I make while I'm out there, is to make sure I get back to you. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, not permanently anyways. This… you… mean too much to me. Okay?”

Though you offered him another gentle nod, speech having been utterly stripped from your cognizance by his own heart-felt admission, he clicked his tongue again. “Say it,” he requested in little more than a whisper. “Say you understand and that you trust me.”

Desperate to commit that softened pleading look upon his face to memory, you stole a selfish moment just to gaze down into those asymmetric eyes, lips pursing as they threatened to release another unwanted sob.

“I trust you,” you breathed, guiding your hands to cup either side of that angular jaw, thumbs brushing softly across those supple cheeks. “And I love you.”

“Good,” he answered immediately, hands shifting to firmly clutch your ribs while he planted a kiss where his chin had just lain. “Now put those tears away and let’s get a nice hot shower before I have to go.”

“Ouuuu,” you cooed instantly, letting your eyelids flutter flirtatiously as he released you from his arms. “I’d love that. And if you hadn’t just laughed me out of the bed, I'd consider letting you join me.”

“Your inner brat doesn’t scare me, you know that,” Wolffe cautioned, darkened gaze now dancing hungrily across your semi-clothed form. “Now, get going before I put that mouth to another use.”

Other Written Works Here

Tag list: @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @starrylothcat @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @freesia-writes @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @wolffegirlsunite @drafthorsemath @jediknightjana @starstofillmydream @mooncommlink @wizardofrozz @trixie2023 @clonethirstingisreal @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mythical-illustrator @arctrooper69 @somewhere-on-kamino

#starqueenswrittenworks #x reader #Commander Wolffe x fem!reader #x fem!reader #fem!reader x Commander Wolffe #can be read as GN!reader as well but the song lyrics specify the word girl so I didn’t want to mislabel #Commander Wolffe fanfic #Commander Wolffe

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lees-chaotic-brain · 5 months

Note

blond o sonic shimmer trap by the arctic monkeys, geto, any sort you want, curious to see how you interpret the lyrics if you do pick my ask :3

WC: 1.7k

CW: suggestive, reader has female pronouns, reader is a bit unhinged, kinda stalkerish behavior from geto, nothing serious though

Notes: i'll admit i had a bit of trouble with this one, but i also had a lot of fun and liked how it turned out!! thanks for sending this in nonnie!! but let me know what you think of how i interpreted the lyrics!!

listen to this while reading

taglist: @arlerts-angel @ponderingmoonlight (lmk if you want to be added to the event taglist!)

Event Guide | Event Masterlist | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

The first time he saw you you were dancing. The sparkling of your black dress had caught his attention, drawing his eyes past the flashing strobe lights and crowd of writhing bodies straight towards you. It was almost like you were calling out to him, telling him to watch.

And so he did. He watched as you twirled and swayed and moved with the music, dancing with wild abandon. Your dancing wasn’t particularly skilled, but there was something so raw, so real, about the way you moved. Something that compelled the viewer to want to get to know you.

Black as a beacon

In a river of shimmering fog

But Geto Suguru was not known for his forwardness when it came to interacting with women, particularly pretty women. So week after week he returned to watch you dance, always from a distance, never approaching you. In that time, he was only able to learn three things about you.

One: you were always wearing what he came to identify as your signature red lipstick. It was a unique shade, equal parts dark and bright that drew attention to the shape of your mouth. And he paid a lot of attention to your mouth.

Fighting back his intrusive thoughts and vivid imagination he watched your mouth move as you sang along to songs. He watched the way your lips parted when you threw your head back, exposing the long column of your throat when you were fully immersed in a song. He always watched you, entranced by your spirit.

Two: you went to the club to dance every Friday night. It took him a little while to figure that out, but once he did he made sure he was always free on Friday.

And finally, three: you were always alone. In the months he had spent watching you, he had never seen someone with you. You arrived alone, and you left alone. You didn’t seem like someone who would be hard pressed for friends, so this oddity only served to pique his interest more.

She was hard to ignore

Yes she was

He didn’t realize how much he had come to depend on his weekly sightings of you until you stopped showing up. For four weeks straight there was no sign of you, and it was unnerving. He immediately jumped to worst case scenarios and feared he would never see you again.

As soon as that thought entered his head, he immediately regretted not approaching you sooner. God he was such an idiot. He should have gotten to know you when he still had the chance, when you still showed up every week, instead of being such a goddamn coward. He promised himself that if he ever did see you again, he wouldn’t let his anxiety get the better of him. Next time he saw you he would say something.

So when he walked in the fifth week of you not being there and spotted you, he made a beeline straight towards where you were dancing, not allowing himself a chance to second-guess himself.

“Excuse me!” He has to shout to get your attention, and he taps you on the shoulder for good measure. You turn, and his breath catches in his chest when your eyes finally meet his. “U-uh hi.”

You squint at him, then your eyes light up in recognition. “It’s you!! Stalker guy! Finally grew some balls and approached me, huh?”

Stalker guy?!? You think he’s been stalking you? Well, technically he was, but he wasn’t trying to be creepy or anything. He just found you intriguing. He opens his mouth to say as much, but you cut him off with a laugh.

“Oh my god, the look on your face!!” You wheeze, folding over with the force of your mirth. Straightening you wipe a tear away and catch your breath. “Don’t worry. I didn’t think you were creepy or anything.”

You lean in, so close he can feel your breath hitting the shell of his ear, causing a full body shudder to run through him. “In fact, I was a little flattered that a man as attractive as you would go out of their way to watch little ol’ me.”

“Come outside with me.” He blurts before he can stop the words from leaving his mouth. Surprised, you jerk back a bit and peer into his face and he can tell your guard was up. “Why…?”

Realizing how it sounded, he immediately backtracked. “No no, I just mean I want to talk! To get to know you. I’ve regretted not getting your number for the last couple of weeks and you seem really interesting and I’m so sorry that is not how I meant it-”

“Okay.” Your simple reply cuts through his flustered rambling. “I’d like to get to know you too.”

And as you take his hand and lead him outside, a thrill runs through him, and he can’t help but wonder if every second with you was going to be this entertaining.

Well, time tastes bland

When she's not around

Stepping out into the cool night air, the two of you stand there for a moment taking in the refreshing feel of the breeze.

“So.” You glance over your shoulder at him. “I don’t know what you had in mind, but I’m in the mood for a drive. What do you say? I didn’t drink and my car is right over there.” You gesture towards the left, in the direction of a volkswagen beetle.

“Sure. Sounds good to me.” He smiles at you. He always takes a taxi to the club in case he has a drink, so it’s not like there’s anything keeping him there. “Shall we?”

You grin at him and skip off to your car. His heart skips a beat, and all he can think about is what he has to do to make you grin like that again. He could look at your smile all day. However, his internal simping was cut off by you yelling.

“Motherfucker!” You’re staring at the side of your car, then turn your furious gaze on the Cadillac parked haphazardly next to you. Hurrying over, he looks at what you’re looking at and understands why you’re upset. The car next to you had left a long scratch on the driver’s side of your car when pulling in, and instead of leaving their information, they had left a post-it. A post-it with a cheeky ‘sorry’ scrawled across it hastily.

“Sorry??!” You growl, rage radiating off you. “If you were sorry you would fucking pay for it!!!”

And before he can intervene, you let out a cry of rage and rip the side mirror of the offending car. For a moment all is silent and the two of you just stare at the mirror in your hands. You, with perplexed satisfaction, and him with shock.

Eventually you break the stunned silence. “Well, the asshole had it coming.” His eyes snap up to meet yours and the two of you dissolve into hysterical laughter.

Yep. Things were never boring when you were around.

And she snapped

Wing mirrors off of Cadillacs

The particularly pretty ones

He can tell you’re up to something when a flash of mischief crosses your face and you unlock your car. He watches with anticipation as you fish your tube of lipstick, a sticky note, and a ballpoint pen out of your glove compartment.

Quickly, you reapply your lipstick and kiss the mirror, leaving an imprint of your lips on it before balancing it on the windshield of the Cadillac. Then you spin around and write something on the sticky note, not letting him see what it says before slapping it on the car next to the mirror and getting into your own car. Gesturing for him to get in the passenger seat, you wait until he’s in and buckled before peeling out of the lot.

You glance over at him, and as soon as you make eye contact the two of you are howling with laughter again. Once he calmed down enough to speak, he asked what you wrote on the post it note between gasping peals of laughter.

“Oh, that?” You smirk. “So sorry about your car!! I didn’t want to have to bend down to reapply my lipstick.”

“No you didn’t.” You look at him solemnly. “I did.”

The two of you were sent into yet another fit of laughter, the sound ringing out from your car, filling the cool night air with your joy.

And that

Meant she never had to strain her back

When she was putting her lippy on

While that night had been the first you spent hanging out and driving around aimlessly, it certainly wasn’t the last. There was something addictive about you, from the way you simply didn’t care what others thought, to the sound of your laugh. God, he could spend the rest of his life listening to your laugh.

Throughout the course of the many nights spent causing mischief and laughing he got to see the different sides of you. Sure, he was first interested in you because of how carefree and wild you were, but as he got to know you better, he realized that that was but one facet of your incredibly complex personality.

You could be mischievous and wild and carefree, sure, but you were also immensely kind, as well as insanely smart and you had a melancholy side at times. But your complexity only added to his growing feelings towards you.

While it was your wild side that ensnared him at first, it was you as a complicated and messy whole that made him fall in love. And he couldn’t have been happier that you trapped his heart at first sight because if you hadn’t he wouldn’t have met the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

She floats like a niccy rush but she stings like a B-flat

The Blond-o-Sonic Shimmer Trap

#lee's brain writes #lee's brain writes: requests #lee's song fic event #geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x you #suguru x you #geto x female reader #jjk x reader #jjk x female reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fanfiction #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #geto suguru fanfiction #geto suguru fluff

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louscartridge · 1 year

Text

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Hannah bahng x fem reader

Cw- angst if you squint, kissing (nothing suggestive), reader and hannah say 'ily', reader calls hannah 'love' and 'baby' once. Not rly much at all tbh, just fluff <3.

Summary- hannah doesn't want anyone to hear her song until it's out, including you, and you just can't leave hannah alone about it when you're supposed to be sleeping.

a/n- someone please send rhis to her on twt or something 💀. I wrote this the day hannah announced her song but I just haven't posted it until now. Idk why 😭 also some of this was written on a phone and some was written on a computer so sorry if it looks weird.

God do you love Hannah. You love everything about her. Literally. Especially the small things. Details, stuff that any other person wouldn't notice about her.

Physical things, mental things, emotional things.

You obviously love the things about her that the average person crossing her on the street would notice about her too,, But there's just something about being so close to her, knowing things about her that no one else does. Being able to notice things about her that no one else does. Being able to notice things about her, without her even telling you things. You love knowing that you will always know her more than anyone, no matter what.

She's so cute. the way her eyes and cheeks puff slightly when she laughs or smiles real hard, the way she side eyes you when she sees you hanging out with Chan or berry over her, the sarcasm that you guys share, even if over the smallest of things. and while she claims to be the mean sibling, she swears she's the nicest girlfriend. You could confirm both of those. However, it then makes you sound like you're a mean girlfriend. It's not that you're mean per say, you just aren't good with your feelings and Hannah's always been better at expressing them to you then you are to her, or anyone, for that matter. If anything, Hannah's the easiest person for you to express your feelings to.

You're also insanely proud of her. Proud of her for everything. She dyes her hair? "oh my god, it looks so good baby!! Good job." she makes food? "oh my god, this is so good. Good job, for real"

You were especially proud of her music skills.

Shes pretty humble about it, which is cool, but sometimes you just want everyone to know how actually talented your girlfriend really is. Scream it. Scream it together.

However, you haven't heard her official, original, one and only, debut song yet.

Of course you've heard her sing other songs and play the guitar, piano, and what not. between her YouTube covers and what she does for you, you'd argue that you hear her music abilities more than anyone.

But you haven't heard this one.

None of it. Not the lyrics, not the instrumentals, nothing.

At first you were kinda upset that she won't let you hear it, but you respect her boundaries. Plus, knowing that Chan hasn't even heard it yet either made you feel better.

She's told you that it's nothing personal, especially with you. she just doesn't want anyone to hear it until it's put out. And anyone just so happened to include you and her brother. Plus, she valued yours and chans opinion greatly. She figured that if either you or Chan didn't like her song somehow or something, that she wouldn't go through with releasing it. Which she really didn't want to do, considering how long she's spent on making just this one song.

Once she knew when it was going to be released, she told you when right away. You and Chan were the first to know that, along with her parents. Or maybe she would make you wait, let you see the timer she posted on her Instagram story, and watch you go insane. Until then though, you would be the most impatient little fucker ever.

It's was now around the time you and Hannah usually end up falling asleep during a move or something, but tonight you just would not leave Hannah alone.

"I'm actually so exited. I'm not even trying to be funny, but I don't think I can wait like a month." you said, laying next to Hannah on her bed.

She was laying on her side, facing away from you, and you were laying next to her on your back. The two of you originally started out with spooning, but you soon got relentless and started moving, which ended up changing your original position.

"well your gonna have to." Hannah sighed.

You sat up so you were now leaning back on the headboard and looked over Hannah's shoulder. You can see a slight smirk on her face, but you can also tell she was slightly annoyed.

"yeah but like what if I CAN'T."

"you will. You'll be with me for the whole time, and we're going to a concert soon. Time will go by fast." she tries to convince you.

You bring your finger up motioning as you speak. "yeah, OK, but you see-you say that, but really-"

"oh my god" Hannah groans, knowing that you would just keeps going on and on in continuous circles. you frown and her words and tone of voice, upset at yourself for making her annoyed, especially when she's trying to sleep, and you feel bad for your obnoxious behavior.

she turns her body around so she’s facing you and leans up so she can kiss your lips. “Shut up” another kiss. “and go to sleep” another kiss.

Your mood quickly goes up again just from feeling the touch of her soft lips against yours, and the fact that her voice has softened again. Her voice is teasing and you can tell she's slightly annoyed still, but she's more in awe of you then annoyed.

Hannah scoots back down into the bed and clings onto your leg and your waist/hips.

Hannah looks up at you and says “Goodnight. I love you” with a smile on her face, teeth showing slightly and the underneath of her eyes get slightly puffy as she smiles at you. Because of you.

you look down to her and reciprocate her smile and words back to her. “Goodnight. I love you, and I’m beyond proud of you.”

Although it's dim in her bedroom, you can see from the slight light that Hannah blushes at your words. “I try my best to make you proud.”

“hannah, you don’t even have to try.” “I’m beyond proud to be able to call you mine too”

Hannah’s blush gets more intense in response to your statement. “Always love.”

Reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

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mabelstone · 1 year

Text

Try Me

trey parker x reader

based on the song/lyrics of try me - the weeknd

CW - cheating (with trey), fwb, minor 18+

i want to preface this with I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING

i was gonna make the boyfriend matt but i just couldn't bring myself to... i am a matt girl through and through 😔

got this idea while driving... enjoy, trey nation <3

Your phone buzzed loudly on your kitchen table where you and your boyfriend were preparing dinner. You’d be lying if you said your relationship wasn’t getting a little boring. You’d been on and off dating for four years, and struggling to keep the relationship strong... and exciting. Tonight, he had suggested you prepare dinner together over a bottle of wine like you used to in the beginning of your relationship. There just didn’t seem to be much of a spark anymore. He was a treat to the eye and the kindest, most loving man you’d ever been with, yet there was nothing special about what you shared. Truthfully, the sex was painfully average. He was good at it, sure, but you loved to try new things. He wasn’t one to spice things up and your known-to-be hungry libido was beginning to starve.

That’s why when you saw the alias name ‘Belle,’ flash across your phone screen. Heart pounding, you made up the excuse, “oh, sorry, honey. One of the girls from work is having couple troubles and I told her to reach out. Gotta take this.” He smiled in understanding, giving you a nod. He really was a wonderful guy. You lovingly squeezed his arm and walked to your bedroom, quickly pressing the phone to your ear, feigning loud enough for your boyfriend to hear, “Belle! How are you?”

“Oh, he’s around, is he?” You heard the dark voice on the other line ring out as you shut the door behind you, sitting on the edge of your bed with excitement accelerating through your veins.

“Yeah,” you whispered meekly into the phone, eyes trained on the door nervously. “Gotta make it quick.”

“Do you miss me, baby?” He cooed down the line, his voice warm and raspy, the way it was every time he’d pound into you from behind, roughly pulling your head back by your hair, forcing you both to relish in the sight of what you did to each other.

“Mhm,” you bit down on your lip hard, reminiscing on the most recent night you’d spent together a few months ago. Images flashed through your head like a film strip; the way he’d touch you in ways your partner never had. The way his grip around your throat made you struggle to say his name every time he commanded you to. The way you knew it was so wrong, yet you couldn’t stop yourself from going back time after time.

“Leave him,” Trey would always try and convince you, but every time you’d tell him you couldn’t.

“I do love him,” you’d explain, trying to selfishly push down the guilt for the sake of scattered nights of pleasure. “You’re the best I’ve ever had. I’m not ready to give it up just yet,” you’d tell him, yet truthfully, you were just trying to make yourself feel better for being a pathetic girlfriend and a kind of terrible person.

"So when are we doing this again?" He cut to the chase fast, well aware of the time constraint the two of you were confined to after your many rendezvous over the years.

You hummed in thought, letting Trey know not to speak as you were going to check the calendar. You headed to the kitchen where your boyfriend gave you a sweet smile from the stove. You reciprocated, a pang of guilt hitting you. You swallowed it down though, speaking sweetly into the phone, "umm... you can stay here on the 14th... can you wait that long? I know the situation is hard, but I know you can tough it out, Belle. I'll make it worth your while."

You walked into the living room, clearing your throat to signal he could speak now. He'd learnt all your cues by heart now, knowing what a cough or hum meant depending on the pitch.

"See you then, baby girl," he confirmed, your cheeks heating at the nickname, even though you knew it was only used to get what he wanted. Well, what you both wanted really.

You hung up with a sigh, craving his touch so badly, it was crippling.

"I'm not feeling too good, honey," you walked into the kitchen, putting on a bit of an act for your boyfriend. You were partially telling the truth; you did feel really nauseous every time you did this to him. You wrapped your arms around his waist, reaching your head up to place a kiss to his shoulder. "I'm gonna go have a bath, okay? I'll be quick."

"Okay, sweetheart," he frowned sympathetically, turning around to place a soft kiss to your lips. "Take your time. I'll have dinner ready for you when you get out."

You smiled weakly at his gesture, feeling incredibly bad for what you were about to do. Not bad enough, clearly, as you walked into your ensuite and shut the door behind you. The guilt quickly dissipated as you ran the bath, flicking a quick text to Trey that read,

thinkin about you x

He replied almost instantly, the message sending a jolt of electricity straight to your heat.

You do indescribable things to me baby

god me too, just hearing your voice

You responded just as quickly, his next response eliciting that addictive excitement that kept pulling you back in for more. You were greedy for him, and regret didn't exist in your vocabulary when it came to Trey. He was the most fulfilling aspect of your life... which is quite sad when put that way.

Show me.

Without a second thought, you stripped down to nothing, too turned on by his demands to even consider the consequences you'd face if your boyfriend walked in. You leant against the edge of the sink and opened your camera, your hand finding it's way up to one of your breasts. You squeezed it roughly for the photo, only your bitten lip and below visible in the image. You sent it immediately, climbing into the bath as you awaited his response. You hadn't spoken in a month or two, let alone slept together. You were pent up for him, so dissatisfied in your relationship. Trey made you want to leave your boyfriend for him, but you knew that you were nothing more than a friends with benefits. Trey just wanted you to leave him so he wouldn't feel so guilty.

Fuck I need more. Bend over.

You throbbed at his message, immediately obliging. You set up the camera on the bath ledge, hitting record on your phone. You slowly stood up, soapy suds dripping off your body as you followed his instructions, bending over in front of the camera and looking over your shoulder.

You were depraved, you could admit it. You liked a man that could take control, and unfortunately, that man was not the one in your kitchen, but the one getting off to you behind a little screen.

You stopped the video and cropped the ending before sending it through, your heart pounding lustrously as you waited.

I cant fucking wait for the 14th

He attached an image that caused your mouth to water, and a kaleidoscope of butterflies to erupt in your stomach. God, you had missed his cock. But mostly, you had missed him. The realisation that you were catching feelings hit you, and you had to stop that immediately.

you know where to find me x

You then completed the routine of sending him a '.' to let him know not to message. You then proceeded to delete the messages, and take care of yourself privately.

note: i think i may make a part 2, let me know if u want that

#trey parker #trey parker x reader #trey parker smut #matt stone #matt stone x reader

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