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thewriteadviceforwriters · 3 months

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How To Plan A Book Series: Ultimate Guide

Writing a book series can be an incredibly rewarding experience for authors, but it also requires careful planning and execution. A well-crafted book series can captivate readers, build a loyal fan base, and provide a steady stream of income for writers. However, planning a successful book series is no easy feat.

It demands a deep understanding of world-building, character development, and plot progression. In this ultimate guide, I'll help you explore the essential steps to help you plan a compelling and cohesive book series that will keep your readers hooked from start to finish.

Develop a Compelling Premise The foundation of any successful book series is a strong premise. Your premise should be unique, engaging, and have the potential to sustain multiple books. Consider exploring a complex world, a captivating concept, or a character with a rich backstory that can evolve over the course of several books. Ask yourself: What makes your premise stand out? What will keep readers invested in the story for multiple installments?

Create a Detailed Outline Before you dive into writing, it's crucial to create a detailed outline for your entire book series. This outline should include the overarching plot, major story arcs, character development, and key events for each book. Having a solid outline will help you maintain consistency, avoid plot holes, and ensure that each book contributes to the overall narrative. Don't be afraid to make adjustments as you write, but having a roadmap will keep you on track.

World-Building: Crafting a Vivid and Consistent Universe One of the hallmarks of a successful book series is a richly developed and immersive world. Whether you're creating a fantasy realm, a futuristic society, or a contemporary setting, pay close attention to world-building. Establish the rules, customs, histories, and geography of your fictional world. Consistency is key, so ensure that the details align across all books in the series. Consider creating a "bible" or a comprehensive guide that outlines the intricacies of your world, making it easier to maintain continuity.

Develop Compelling Characters Great characters are the heart and soul of any book series. Your protagonists, antagonists, and supporting characters should be well-rounded, multi-dimensional, and undergo significant growth and transformation throughout the series. Craft backstories, motivations, flaws, and strengths for each character, and ensure that their actions and decisions drive the plot forward. Remember, character development is an ongoing process, so be prepared to explore new facets of your characters as the series progresses.

Establish Recurring Themes and Motifs Themes and motifs are powerful tools that can add depth and resonance to your book series. Identify the central themes you want to explore, such as love, redemption, power, or identity. Weave these themes throughout the series, allowing them to evolve and deepen with each installment. Motifs, like recurring symbols or imagery, can also create a sense of cohesion and add layers of meaning to your narrative.

Plan for Cliffhangers and Resolutions One of the key strategies for keeping readers engaged in a book series is the strategic use of cliffhangers and resolutions. Cliffhangers create anticipation and leave readers craving for the next installment. However, be cautious not to overuse this technique, as it can become frustrating for readers. Balance cliffhangers with satisfying resolutions that tie up loose ends and provide a sense of closure, while still leaving room for the story to continue.

Consider Pacing and Narrative Structure Pacing and narrative structure are crucial elements to consider when planning a book series. Each book should have its own narrative arc, with a beginning, middle, and end, while also contributing to the overall story progression. Vary the pacing between books to maintain reader interest, alternating between action-packed and slower, more introspective sections. Experiment with different narrative structures, such as multiple perspectives, non-linear timelines, or frame narratives, to keep the series fresh and engaging.

Manage Continuity and Consistency As your book series grows, maintaining continuity and consistency becomes increasingly important. Keep detailed records of character descriptions, plot points, world-building elements, and timelines. Regularly refer back to these notes to ensure that you're not introducing contradictions or inconsistencies. Consider creating a series bible or a wiki to help you keep track of all the moving parts.

Plan for Character Growth and Evolution In a book series, characters should undergo significant growth and evolution. Plan for character arcs that span multiple books, allowing your protagonists and supporting characters to face challenges, make difficult choices, and emerge as changed individuals. This character development will not only add depth to your narrative but also keep readers invested in the journey of your characters.

Anticipate and Address Potential Plot Holes As your book series expands, the potential for plot holes and inconsistencies increases. Be vigilant in identifying and addressing these issues during the planning stage. Regularly review your outline and notes, looking for any logical gaps or contradictions. Enlist the help of beta readers or critique partners to provide fresh perspectives and catch any potential plot holes you may have missed.

Consider the Overarching Story Arc While each book in your series should have its own narrative arc, it's essential to plan for an overarching story arc that spans the entire series. This overarching arc should tie together the individual books, building towards a climactic conclusion that resolves the central conflict or mystery. Ensure that each book contributes to this larger narrative, advancing the plot and raising the stakes for the characters.

Plan for Marketing and Promotion Finally, as you plan your book series, don't overlook the importance of marketing and promotion. Develop a strategy for building buzz and engaging with your audience throughout the release of each book. Leverage social media, author events, book tours, and other promotional opportunities to keep your readers excited and invested in your series.

Remember, writing a book series is a marathon, not a sprint, so be prepared to invest time, effort, and dedication into crafting a truly remarkable literary journey. Hope this helped!

Happy Writing - Rin T.

Hey fellow writers! I'm super excited to share that I've just launched a Tumblr community. I'm inviting all of you to join my community. All you have to do is fill out this Google form, and I'll personally send you an invitation to join the Write Right Society on Tumblr! Can't wait to see your posts!

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writer-logbook · 1 month

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How to improve your writing style : a 5-steps guide.

Intro : I love the 5-steps format, don’t mind me. Again, this essay is based on my personal experience.

Read in different genres. Ok, I know you’ve probably heard this advice more than you can count but did you ask yourself why it is so important ? You probably wonder ‘‘How reading some historical fiction will help me writing my sci-fi novel ?’’ For that simple reason my friend : they meet different purposes. You don’t know how to describe a castle ? It’s okay, historical fiction got your back. Because it aims at something more realistic and accurate, it would tend to be more specific and detailed when it comes to describing clothes, furniture, places and so on. Why ? Because, most of the time, THEY ACTUALLY EXISTED. Take a closer look at how it is done and draw your inspiration from it (but please avoid plagiarism it’s bad - and illegal)

Take notes and CLASSIFY them. To make reading somehow useful, you have to actually make it concious, which means you have to write things down to remember them. When I come across a description I like, I tend to takes notes of the figures of speech that are used and class them, so when I have to write a similar scene, I have an idea of what have been already used, and weither or not it achieved its goal. I am NOT talking about COPY another author’s style !!!! It’s about finding inspiration and new approaches. I also tend to take notes of the new words I wish to incoporate into my writing. The thesaurus is my new bestie.

Rewrite the same scene from different POVs. First of all, it’s fun. And it’s a really good way to spot quirky formulations. For instance, if you describe a ship, the captain’s POV should be different from that of a simple observer. The first one would be naming each part princisely whereas the other would only be admiring the surface without knowing anything. If the caption is the same for both POVs, maybe you should consider write your passage again (or have a good reason, like a strong amateurism for the mere observer). It’s go hand in hand with coherence - but it would be an essay for another time (maybe).

Read your text aloud. I put major emphasis on that one because it’s as underated as reading books for various genres. You have no idea how much we DON’T speak the way we write. Even dialogues are crafted in our stories - so make sure to give them proper attention. (i even read my email aloud but-). I KNOW how cringey it might be as I am doing it MYSELF but the benefits are worth the 35-minutes shame I endure from my own mess. Before you can shine, you have to polish (shout out to the one who said that first if it’s not me).

Take a step back. I strongly advice you to let some time pass before reading your text again and profreading it. It will cast a new light upon your work and with fresh eyes you’d be more likely able to spot what needs to be erased or rephrased.

That’s all for me today. Since I would be entering my proofreading phase for my writing contest, the next essay would probably about proofreading (with examples from my own novel ?). Unless someone wants me to write on a specific subject first.

Gentle reminder that I’m still French and not a native so please forgive my dubious grammar and outrageous mispellings.

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rin-may-1103 · 4 months

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The Wrong Robin Au (part four)

Previous | Master Post | Next

Danny slowed his car down, staring at the black iron gate coming into view; Bats and ivy welded on in an elegant pattern, obviously more thought-out than The Drake's ducks had been. He had to give it to Tim, the kid had been right about how stupid the ducks looked.

Glancing around, Danny found he was completely alone on the dirt road. The gray sky slowly brightened as the sun climbed higher in the distance, trees swaying in the gentle breeze, and birds chirped.

If it hadn't been for his experiences at Vlad's place, he would have found the scenery comforting, maybe even inviting. But the knowledge that this was the home of a billionaire, one that went out at night to fight crime like a furry on crack nonetheless, ruined it.

Maybe he should just head back to the motel...

...

Fuck it, when had Phantom ever backed down? That's right! Never! Danny was going to stick to his metaphorical guns and follow through with his admittedly stupid plan.

Taking his foot off the brake; Danny activated his intangibility, shared it with the car, and drove through the gate. (look, what were his powers for if not to make his life convenient? He deserved it after literally dying for them. AND the gate was probably locked. There was no way he could convince someone to let him in at this time in the morning, so...)

Danny kept an eye on his surroundings as he drove, he doubted Bruce Wayne would have ghost vultures working for him, but that doesn't mean Danny wouldn't be prepared if he did.

Eventually, a large building came into view. Its gothic architecture and obvious timely design set it apart from Vlad's modern monstrosity of a castle. Danny could just tell this was a home for a family with old money; the weathered roof and aged water fountain told stories of the people who used to live there. This was a home, not just a house.

Pulling his car over and parking, Danny quickly sent a mental prayer to the home's ancestors. He hoped they could forgive him for what he was about to do.

Grabbing his backup phone and his keys, Danny tossed the car door open and stepped out. Immediately his senses were clouded with grief and anger. It was so strong he almost lost his footing. The house was just drenched in the emotions, tendrils reaching out and wrapping around anything and everything.

Closing his eyes, Danny held his breath so he could focus on blocking the emotions out. (flashes of someone else's memories rushed past his mind; a glimpse of a young boy sitting in a library reading a book. An older man sitting next to him silently. In another flash, the two were now in a dark cave, the light of a computer the only thing illuminating them as the older man draped a blanket across the boy's back. whispered words of sincere promises echoed in his head.)

He had believed Tim, but he hadn't expected it to be this bad. Ancients, this was worse than when he had to deal with Spectra.

Batman definitely needed therapy.

...

Maybe Jazz should be Robin instead, she'd know how to handle this properly. but Jazz wasn't here right now, she was in Sweden learning all about mental health. Which meant Danny would have to do this himself.

yay.

He had two options; One, he sits down with the man and they have a sincere and very emotional conversation. Or two, he beats it into the guy's head that he needs to stop going out and trying to get himself killed. Based on everything he knows about Batman? It was going to be number two that was going to get results... Well, at least Danny had experience punching things until he got what he wanted. (even if it didn't always work.)

Shaking himself out of his mind, Danny started making his way to the front door. It was past five in the morning, Bruce should be home now. Whether he was sleeping like Danny would assume he usually did, was a different question altogether.

Glancing around the door, Danny found there was a large rope hanging to the left. Vlad had the same thing at his place, it was an old-fashioned doorbell.

shrugging, Danny pulled on the rope and waited.

and waited.

After a minute or two, Danny pulled the rope again. Suddenly the door swung open to reveal an older man dressed in a nice waistcoat and trousers.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, a British accent completing the look.

Danny blinked for a second before quickly focusing back on his task. "My name's Danny. Bruce is being a dumbass who needs to take a chill pill and take a step back from hospitalizing criminals. Can I come in?"

It was the old man's turn to stare and blink at him. After a minute, the man stepped back and opened the door, his eyebrow raised. "I would like to see how you plan to tell this to Master Bruce. His office is this way, young man."

"May I ask what exactly you're doing here?" the man asked, closing the door behind Danny.

Danny shrugged, "I'm here to beat some sense into him. He's going to get himself killed and no one wants to see what happens when he does."

The butler, because the rich fruitloop would obviously have one, hummed as he nodded his head in agreement. "I see. Maybe this is what he needs then. he won't listen to me, no matter how much I nag him."

Nothing else was said as he guided Danny through the manor, eventually stopping at a fancy dark wooden door. "Master Bruce, you appear to have a visitor." Then He opened the door and gestured for Danny to enter.

He only had a moment to ponder how he should do this before he entered the room. He should keep his powers hidden, for now at least.

He was greeted with the sight of an exhausted man in a bathrobe sitting at his desk and staring out the window. He was clutching a very worn and loved book in his hands, his brows slightly furrowed. (Danny noted that it was the same book the kid had been reading, The Hero and the Crown... or something like that, Danny hadn't really gotten a good look at the title.)

The butler stepped back, closing the door, and stood next to it to maybe await his new orders. Ones he probably wouldn't get any time soon, if the way Bruce hadn't moved or responded meant anything.

Well, if the old man wanted to see this then who was Danny to stop him?

Stepping forward, Danny leaned over the desk and slapped the back of Bruce's head. The man swiftly turned and stared at him, raising one of his hands to touch his head in shock. Danny heard the butler choke in surprise but ignored him. He could only pray to Clockwork that Bruce didn't kill him for this.

"You are being absolutely idiotic, dude." Danny declared. "Do you think Jason would have wanted you to act like this?" Bruce stood up, his chair slamming into the wall, his eyes burning in anger. "No? Then get your shit together and be the man he would be proud of."

Bruce lunged over the desk, his fist pulled back to hit Danny. It was just like Danny expected, just like Tim had told him, the man was letting his emotions control his actions. Dodging to the side, Danny continued talking, "This going out every night, fighting more and more dangerous and outlandish people all by yourself? It's going to get you killed."

Bruce gave up on trying to punch him, instead, he threw himself forward and body-slammed Danny to the floor. Danny coughed, quickly blocking his face as Bruce took a swing at him. Using the man's blind anger to his advantage, Danny kicked Bruce in the chest and sent him flying into his desk. "Jason's dead. It sucks. and it hurts. It's probably the worst pain you've ever experienced, but there's nothing you can do about it."

Danny glared at the man as he scrambled into a crouch, waiting to see what Bruce did next. "Shut up," the man growled, shoving himself up and away from his desk. He picked up his stapler; he was probably either going to use it as a blunt weapon or throw it at Danny. Widening his stance, Danny got ready to dodge or lunge.

He remembered reading about him, online when he first became Phantom. He remembered reading about Robin and Batman and how they worked together to protect Gotham. How they tirelessly worked day and night to put their rogues away every time they got out again.

He remembered seeing pictures of Batman standing next to little Robin, a proud smile on his face as the police took the criminals away. Pictures of the man helping and protecting Robin whenever the boy couldn't handle whatever mess he had gotten into. There was even a memorable one of Batman scolding an obviously sheepish Robin, a knocked-out Riddler slumped behind him.

He had wished so badly for someone to help him back them, for someone to be his Batman when times got hard. He remembered how devastated he was when it turned out the only person like him was Vlad. Vlad, who had wanted to murder his father and marry his mother. Vlad, who had overshadowed people to gain more wealth and power. Vlad, who hadn't seen how wrong it was to try and clone him.

He remembered the comments and videos from the citizens of Gotham, cheering for their heroes when they succeeded in capturing the rogues. How they still supported them when they failed. It was nothing like Amity's reaction to him.

He remembered how Gothom reacted when Robin was pronounced dead. How the city had cried and raged. He felt it all the way over in Amity, the grief and anger. The whole city had come together to mourn the boy who protected them. Even two years later, Danny could still feel the echoes.

"Jason's dead. He's dead and gone and you're letting yourself get consumed with your grief. but you made a promise Bruce."

Danny knew he had, it was the same promise Danny had made just four years ago.

Bruce's eyes widened and the anger that was surging in his eyes froze for just a moment. His hand loosened around the stapler but didn't let it go. The butler looked concerned, unsure if he should interfere or not.

"You made a promise all those years ago when you first dawned that stupid bat suit. You promised to do everything in your power to help your city. To protect it. Robin made the same promise. When he took up his suit. They both did."

Bruce's jaw tensed, his eyes narrowing. Danny lowered his body, still ready to dodge at a moment's notice.

"You made a promise to your son, Bruce. Even if he didn't know it. One that you couldn't keep."

Bruce threw the stapler, making Danny jump to the side to dodge it. His mistake was not keeping an eye on what Bruce did after throwing it. The man quickly rushed up to him, eyes blazing in anger. "You don't know anything!" he cried, his fist slamming into Danny's jaw. Danny staggered back but ducked under the next punch.

"I lost my son! I wasn't there!" Bruce shouted, kicking Danny's legs out from under him. Danny's back hit the floor, knocking the breath out of him. Bruce followed him down, breaking his nose with another punch to the face. "I promised I would protect him and I wasn't there!"

Danny growled, catching Bruce's fist in his hand and sending a punch at the side of Bruce's head. Bruce tried to lean back, Danny's fist clipping his forehead. Bruce grunted, reaching up to grab Danny's fist to keep him from punching him again.

"You couldn't protect him! I get it, it sucks!" Danny shouted back, flashes of Dani's melting form grasping at his shirt in panic pulled to the front of his mind. "It leaves a black hole in the center of your chest! It sucks all the warmth out of you, leaving only the cold bitter knowledge that you couldn't save him!" (that he couldn't save her)

Bruce pulled his fist out of Danny's hand, slamming his elbow down into Danny's chest and twisting Danny's right arm sharply in an attempt to break it. Danny kept talking though, ignoring the pain as he pulled his arm out of Bruce's grasp, "But Jason made a promise! and you're doing nothing to keep it!"

Danny grabbed onto Bruce's bathrobe and flipped them so Bruce was the one on the floor now. Quickly reaching up, Danny grabbed both of Bruce's hands and held them as still as he could. Bruce was strong, but Danny had years of fighting Skulker and the other super-strong ghosts under his belt. "He made that promise knowing that you had made the same one!"

Bruce growled, throwing his head up in an attempt to hit Danny with it. Danny leaned back, accidentally loosening his grip just enough for Bruce to break out of it. Bruce shoved him off of him, making Danny slide back and hit a chair.

Grunting, Danny stood up and lunged at Bruce. Bruce dodged to the side, dropping down to pick the stapler back up. "I can't claim to know what Jason would have wanted," Danny spat, backing up to give himself more space as Bruce stepped toward him. "but I know as someone who made the same promise, I wouldn't have wanted you to change into what you are now!"

Bruce narrowed his eyes at Danny, "Yeah, and what's that?" he growled.

"A careless, suicidal, moron," Danny growled back.

Bruce froze, stopping in place as he stared at Danny.

Danny took his chance to drive his point home; standing up straight, he raised his hands up in surrender. "He was your son. He looked up to you for protection. For guidance. And sure, maybe you weren't the best dad, and maybe you made mistakes. But you were his dad."

Danny stepped forward, watching as the butler stepped forward to reach out to the man. "and what kind of son would want his dad to kill himself?"

Bruce dropped his stapler, his eyes falling to the ground and catching onto the book he had dropped earlier. It was opened to the front page, written words in messy writing covering it.

"You need to stop, Bruce," Danny said, slowly crouching down and reaching out for the book. Bruce watched him as he stood up, the book still open to the front page in his hands. Jason's writing visible to all of them.

"you couldn't keep your promise to protect him. It sucks and it hurts. but you can keep his promise. The same promise you made all those years ago."

Bruce looked up at him, his blue eyes filling with tears, the butler's hand resting on his shoulder. Danny stepped forward again, holding the book out for Bruce to take.

"You can't protect Gotham if you're dead."

Jason's handwritten note stared up at them, the ink messy and smudged.

'to the best dad in the world and the many adventures we'll go on!'

and Bruce? Bruce crumbled to the floor with a sob, leaving Danny to stand in front of him. Blood running down his face, staining his hoodie and pink Hello Kitty pants, the book still held out with steady hands.

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art · 6 months

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Creator Spotlight: @camberdraws

Hello! My name is Camber (any pronouns), and I’m a mixed media illustrator located in the southwestern United States. I love drawing everything, but I have a special interest in depicting strange creatures and environments, often accompanied by abstract imagery and mark-making. Professionally, I’ve worked creating concept art and 2D assets for museum exhibits, but currently, I am engaged full-time as a software developer and make standalone illustrations in my free time. I’ve been posting art on Tumblr since I was a teenager, and the site has been very welcoming towards my work to this very day!

Check out Camber’s interview below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I’ve had an interest in drawing since I was barely sentient, but at thirteen years old I decided to become “serious” about art. I was all about reading tutorials and doing a ton of studies. I would tote my heavy instructional art books to school every single day (my poor back!) Despite all this, I decided to forgo art school in favor of a bachelor’s degree in Computer Science at my local college. Alongside my major, I received a minor in Art Studio with a specialization in fine art, which totally changed my views on creating artwork and drastically changed my style.

How has your style developed over the years?

As mentioned previously, my style did a 180 after I studied under some very skilled fine art professors! As a kid, my drawings were very realism-heavy and inspired by video game concept art. I mostly worked digitally, too. During college, I was thrown for a loop when we were instructed to do strange things like, for example, make a bunch of marks on paper using pastel, WITHOUT looking, and then turn said marks into a finished piece of art! I quickly and deeply fell in love with abstract work, and especially appreciated images that are not easily parsed by the viewer. Since then, I’ve made it my goal to combine abstract mark-making with more representational subject matter.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Hmmm, one habit I really enjoy as an artist is strictly tracking the amount of time I spend drawing! I currently work a full-time job wholly unrelated to art, so I have to be careful with my time if I want to spend enough hours drawing each week. I created a spreadsheet that allows you to enter the amount of minutes you’ve drawn each day and calculate how much drawing time you still need to reach your weekly goal (I aim for 20 hours a week.) Having such a clear, numbers-based objective keeps me motivated to work like nothing else!

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

I know this is a common inspiration, but Hayao Miyazaki’s work has been rewiring my neurons since I was a child. Seemingly all of my artistic interests can be summed up by the movie Princess Mononoke: it has strange/abstract creature designs, a strong focus on nature and environmental storytelling, and a mix of dark and hopeful themes. Additionally, I’ve been deeply inspired by video game series such as Zelda, Okami, Pikmin, and Dark Souls. But arguably, none of these have influenced me more than Pokemon! I’ve been drawing Pokemon since I could barely hold a pencil, and I haven’t stopped since! I believe my love of designing creatures originated with my endless deluge of Pokemon fanart during my childhood.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

I’ve always been fascinated by 3D mediums and am so tempted to try them out! Whether that’s 3D models created digitally or sculptures made from clay, I profoundly admire artists who have this skill. Oftentimes, it feels like I don’t have time to delve into a totally different artistic paradigm. However, I feel very strongly that learning new skills can enrich your current work. I should take that advice and someday give 3D mediums a shot!

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

I am in the process of creating an art book (a dream of mine!) and have been executing smaller drawings of concepts I find interesting from both a visual and storytelling standpoint. A recent drawing for said book is that of a snail made of ink with an ink bottle as a shell, and it went absolutely viral! I’ve never had an experience like this as an artist before and it has been spectacular! I was able to open a shop using my newly acquired art printer and sell many prints of my snail. Creating something original, directly stemming from my interests, and having that resonate with so many people has been unreal. I couldn’t ask for more as an artist!

What advice would you give to younger you about making art that’s personal or truthful to your own experiences?

I would tell my younger self to chill out and experiment more! I was so caught up in the idea that I needed to have a realistic style to be considered “good.” I also believed that technical skill was the only measure of how worthy my art was. That’s not to say technical skill doesn’t matter, but I now firmly believe the creativity and voice of your ideas far outweigh the skill of execution in terms of importance. Technical skills should elevate ideas, not the other way around. Once I began to revel in strange ideas and stories for my work, depicted oftentimes in odd styles or mediums, I truly found my voice as an artist.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

My peers here on Tumblr inspire me more than anything! Sharing my work with contemporaries and giving each other support brings me joy like no other, and keeps me motivated to continue creating. I wouldn’t be where I am today without them! @beetlestench, @theogm-art, @trustyalt, @ratwednesday, @phantom-nisnow, @svltart, @mintsdraws, @mothhh-hh, @jupiterweathers, @thesewispsofsmoke, @picoffee, @fetchiko, @kaisei-ink, and @pine-niidles just to name only a few!

Thanks for stopping by, Camber! If you haven’t seen their Meet the Artist piece, check it out here. For more of Camber’s work, follow their Tumblr, @camberdraws!

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #camberdraws

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mrsparrasblog · 5 months

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Tf141 x Introducing your Boyfriend after they fucked up.

So I was thinking about a reader who kinda fell in love with her whole squad. You didn't want to.

At first, you fell in love with Johnny, the obvious choice. He was always flirting with you, calling you all these cute Scottish pet names like "hen" and "bonnie", and taking you on dates.

It was perfect until your feelings grew for the stoic, fatherly captain. He was mature, so much more mature than Johnny. He fixed your half-house when you were on leave, always checking if you were safe and making sure you drank enough. It was the perfect combination between Johnny's golden retriever behavior and his strong personality. It was okay in your books to fall in love with two men. It wasn't the first time it happened to someone, right?

You thought you were crazy when the scary lieutenant found his way into your overcrowded heart. He was like a guard dog for you, protecting you from all the creeps on base. And how couldn't you fall in love after he protected you from two men at the bar? Many men said, "I'd burn the world down for you", but the fact about Simon was he really would.

You thought you finally lost it when you were cuddling with your best friend Kyle again, like always. He grew up to be your safe space after a while. You never thought there would be more than platonic love. He was your platonic soulmate until you were pinned under him, getting fucked, with slow thrusts while he repeated over and over again how he loved you since day one. Yes, you're in a fucked up situation.

How could you approach this? After overthinking for straight months, you finally managed to tell them. "You can't love us all, that's batshit crazy," they mumbled, and god, it broke your heart as much as theirs. They never thought about a poly relationship before, but they all loved you and none of them wanted to give up their spot in your heart.

it took you several months to get over this embarrassment. The feelings never left, but you found a new boyfriend who was completely different from all of them. That was good, right? After a while, they got you to introduce your boyfriend to them after a deployment in an overpriced bar your lawyer boyfriend picked in Canary Wharf - The first mistake in their books. Of course, John fit in there with his neat whiskey but come on, this wasn't the place for you guys.

Johnny was the nicest of all of them; he at least had the courtesy to greet your boyfriend and be nice to him. You just didn't realize how he pulled as many jokes as possible, making you laugh for hours, how James couldn't. He was just nice, nothing to worry about, James, you said to him all over again.

Simon took his hand and almost broke it while shaking it, his 6'4" frame towering against your 5'6" boyfriend. He always had a grip on James, whispering in his ears, "And how is a twig like you able to protect my girl?"

By accident, your tires were slashed. "No, James, why should John have done this?" you rolled your eyes. Even worse, your boyfriend didn't know how to change a tire, so you stood there in the rain changing that damn tire while James stood under the umbrella until John came up, "Lovely, go sit in the car, I'll change it." He pulled his sleeves up, flexing his muscular arms while he fixed your problems like always. He was your husband after all, at least in his books.

Kyle hit it off when he walked towards James and whispered in his ear, "I bet you don't satisfy her, does she still taste sweeter than cinnamon there? Does she still get the whole bed soaked in squirt? Does she beg for you?" You didn't believe James when he told you Kyle said that, your Kyle, your best friend? The nicest man on earth ever.

"You're paranoid, James. I think it's better if we call it off," he accused all of your friends of things they never would even do. How could you be with someone so jealous?

"Mhm, broke up with James," you said.

"Was too boring for you, Bonnie",

"was too short for you and couldn't even throw a proper punch",

"couldn't fix a damn tire",

"you deserve someone better, not some jealous loser, what do you even want from a lawyer?"

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matchamiko · 6 months

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₊˚⊹ ᰔ Daydreams about Yuuji

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Warnings: Oral (m -> receiving): sloppy, messy oral; masturbation: dirty talk; AFAB reader (use of girl, girlfriend,); established new relationship; mentions of oral (f -> receiving).

Daydreaming about giving Yuuji his first blowjob. Being his cute, soft, bundle-of-fun girlfriend for a few months before asking him if he wants to fuck your mouth, a little crudely in your tone but quietly, a whisper from your quivering lips. Quivering only in anticipation and the mere thought of him spread out, spilling down your throat. You’re painting your nails on a book on the floor, polish bottles positioned carefully so they don’t tip. A glass of iced yuzu tea sits next to Yuuji’s on the side table, forgotten in your concentration and forgotten in your distraction.

Your nails are long dry now, a pretty pearl that glimmers in the light. They’re fisted on your folded thighs, clenching and cracking when Yuuji shifts uncomfortably under the heat of your gaze.

“You wanna - what?” Golden thighs fog any semblance of sobriety you have left, craving the warm supple skin before you like a wolf to prey. He’s reclined on the foldaway couch he’d thrifted from the side of the road, gym shorts pulled tight over the very tops of his thighs and over his crotch. Staring down at you with sweat beading his hairline and his lower lip dropped open at your sultry admission,

“Please? Should I have said please first?” You shuffle towards him, not touching but so desperately obvious in your lust that Yuuji struggles on where to look, “please can I suck your cock? Pretty please? With a cherry on top?”

You two hadn’t had sex yet, not that it hadn’t come close. Something had always interrupted, whether it was a noisy neighbour or an irritating friend or mentor, or even the cat that roams your apartment as if it was his own. Kissing him was a dream, touching him made you too hot for your own skin and only he had made you come so far, fingers deep and a little clumsy but deft and strong in their wringing of your orgasm(s) on steamy summer’s afternoons tangled up on the couch.

So asking him for favours wasn’t really out of the question. Yuuji adored it when you politely asked for a kiss, positively beams at you before swallowing your radiating embarrassment with his lips. He’s not beaming now, not in the same way.

He’s - sweating. Squirming as he nods with a dry throat, swallowing and grinding his mouth shut. You’re picture perfect between his thighs, pearly nails digging welts into his muscle and humming at the give of the blonde hairs there. He’s afraid of what might happen if he opens his mouth, some kind of animalistic whimper or a loud sob? He feels rather pathetic before you, but gloriously so, bent to your will and your pretty painted nails.

“Bet you taste so good Yuuji,” you simper, lips picking out the moles and freckles leading up to his groin, “might give me some kinda oral fixation,”

Yuuji moans then, out-loud and deep from his chest. You grin wolfishly, fingers deft as they slip over the sweat resistant material of his shorts and up under his t-shirt. It’s tight, a little musty from drying in the bathroom and it gives way for the trail over his belly,

“Hold this f’me Yuuji,” broad hands hover over the edge of his shirt and then over you, biting his lip and then biting the fabric, “Mhm, thank you for letting me do this, been wanting to taste your cock for ages,”

“Yea-sh,” his voice is crackled and muffled by his shirt, spittle damping it but you’re pulling down the band of his shorts and suddenly it’s a little too real, hands raising to pause you, “Baby wait - I -,”

Anything he was going to say dies in a guttural grunt as you envelope the top of his weepy cock in your mouth. Hands that were intended to push you away grab you closer, cradling your throat and squeezing your shoulder.

“Mmmm,” you hum, one hand squeezing the base and the other squeezing his thigh, eyes rolling into the back of your head with the salty, bitter taste of him. Little sucks and kisses have Yuuji barely containing his groans and choked whines, hips flexing beneath you. The shirt has fallen to just below his pecs, belly tightening and flexing with every kick of his cock against your soft palate, but you don’t mind because he’s still trying to keep it out of your sloppy, drooly way, fisting the fabric and giving you a peak of a soft brown nipple, hard and aching.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, please please please,” he babbles, the hand on your neck moving to the back of your head, shaking as he follows your bobbing movements. His dick is thick, long and warm in the cavern of your mouth, the mushroom tip pink and slimy with pre, and you swallow every drop a little over enthusiastically. Humming and moaning and whimpering, you’re practically dripping through your underwear, positive you’ve wet through to the carpet.

And when you breathe in through your nose and take him as far as you can, the tip of your nose just shy of his pubes; the two of you practically lose your minds. Yuuji trembles above you, hunched over and incoherent; and you shimmy your thighs together in a squeeze of relief, drool coating the base of his cock and tears skimming your lashes.

“Y-you’re so hot baby look at ya’,” he can see the way you’re wiggling your hips, craning over you with sleepy eyes and heavy pants, “why - why don’t you play with your pretty pussy? Seein’ as you’re practically milking me dry,” Yuuji’s words come out slurred and muffled, as if his mouth were socked with cotton. A large hand comes down on the back of your neck, sweetly holding you and a stark contrast to the way his cock jerks in the tunnel of your throat as you deftly skim your fingers into your shorts.

The angle is all wrong and you can barely feel the hard bud of your clit but you can feel the pearly arousal that sloshes around your underwear, loud but not loud enough over the slurps and kisses over his cock. You make it work, squirming and widening your knees a little but it still isn’t really enough, not that it mattered because he’s enough, Yuuji is always enough to get you off whether he’s touching you or not. And the heavy head of his cock popping from the seal of your lips is just that right kind of salacious that has your mind fuzzy and dizzy with lust.

“Ah - fuck!” Yuuji chokes on his spit, throwing himself back against the folded futon that serves as the padding of the couch, one arm slumped over his eyes as you focus your attention on the root of his cock, looking up at him through your lashes and fluttering them when your index finger catches on your clit. His breathing comes out in heaving huffs, chest expanding gloriously above you and abs flexing with every clench of his belly. It’s heaven to you, a vision you always knew would be one to keep locked away in the deepest caverns of your mind, something precious and treasured and so disgustingly debauched. You slow your ministrations for a moment, content with just watching the reactions your boyfriend has when you twist your hand, squeeze a little harder, suckle at the vein on the side of his dick. Yuuji seems to appreciate the little break, catching his breath and adjusting his hips, jutting his length into your cheek and it’s amusing that such a kind boy doesn’t even apologise for it.

“D’you want me to make you cum? Or - do you wanna fuck my mouth?” a long, drawn out groan answers you and you return it with a long lick right up the thickening root of him,

“I - get to choose?” Yuuji’s voice is hoarse, cracked and strained from his addictive noises, deep with lust and something a little darker, “Really?”

At your nod, you delve back into the leaking warmth of him. Yuuji gives a strangled grunt and gives his hips a little experimental thrust, pulsing upwards into the deeper depths of your throat. He seems torn between letting you do as you pleased, and giving in to his most debauched fantasies. He’d been given oral before, blowies or whatever his friends called them but they were nothing like you, none of them paid attention to his every reaction and noise, none of them gave him any choice or option on what he wanted to do. So to have you licking him deep and soft and all things sweet, eyes open and questioning with little bias; he’s all a fluster.

“You - you can do it, I want you to make me cum baby,” the words were supposed to be gentle, coaxing, all the things Yuuji wished he was to you but his jaw is set and his voice is more of a growl, especially when he spots your tongue lathing over the base, leaving a trail and a string of drool. He tips his head back, bottom lip tugged into his mouth and his thighs drop open further,

“But make sure you don’t stop playing with that pretty pussy, want you to feel just as good as me,” a whimper answers him and Yuuji isn’t sure if he’ll actually last as long as he thought he would, as he conveyed through his words. And he definitely isn’t sure because you abandon his cock in favour of his balls for a moment, and he’s suddenly all tight in his belly. You’re still squeezing and jerking and flexing your fingers around him, but your wet little tongue is skimming over the soft skin of his sac and drawing them into your mouth with the most wanton moan he think he’s ever heard. You’re visibly more aroused than before, wrist working diligently in your underwear, stretched tight and a much darker colour than earlier, but Yuuji can’t focus on your pleasure right now, for once, for the first time in your relationship. All he can think about is himself and how good it feels to have his pretty girl absolutely worshipping his cock, and he doesn’t care that you’re getting sloppy in your clouded lust; you’re back to sucking him feverently and whining around the thick of him.

“Gonna - baby you’re gonna make me c -,” His admission has you shuffling even closer, abandoning your poor, suffering cunt and slapping a gooey, sticky hand on his thigh to brace yourself.

And it's the wet little smear you leave behind, webbing between your fingers and joining the pre dripping down his cock as you hold him with both hands that has him positively howling your name. Hips pulse into your face, forcing his cock deeper as it swells down your throat and shoots hot, wet and salty into your belly. A hand comes down to his hip, the other fisting the shirt over his chest and catching on his nipple with a startled yelp. You’re strong in your restraint, letting him thrash and writhe beneath you, keeping yourself rooted in his lap and swallowing everything you can, shivering at the taste and the feeling of his cock kicking and twitching with every pulse of his orgasm.

“I gotta - you gotta get off baby,” you don’t realise that he’s come down, don’t realise that he’s still twitching but with overstimulation and softening against the limp muscle of your tongue, “I can’t, I can’t do another yet, m’sorry but -,” Yuuji, through the jelly-like jitter of his limbs, heaves you off the floor and into his lap with a grunt, “That was the best head anyone’s ever given me,”

You’re shy all of a sudden, as if you’re not still swallowing the remains of his spend and sporting the slickest arousal you’ve ever experienced. Yuuji kisses your nose with an appreciative smile,

“Really? I just wanted to do it y’know? You make me wanna suck your cock all the time, s’just something about you,” you tuck your chin into your chest, almost giving in to the little kisses he pecks all over your face, stopping at your temple and deflating with a sigh at your admission,

“You’re cute baby,” his cock twitches from where it’s nestled between his stomach and your cotton covered crotch, “But a meanie, I swear you’ll be the death of me, thought I was gonna black out at one point,”

“Yeah, yeah,” your fingers twist into the fine hairs at the back of his neck, sagging into him and kissing him with a deflated breath. Yuuji licks into your mouth lazily, hands squeezing up the length of your waist and back down again, urging your hips into a soft grind. You’re still sat up on your knees, so all you can feel is the syrupy chafe of your underwear over your cunt and you huff,

“S’okay pretty girl, I got you,” Yuuji smiles at your apparent distress, “You want me to return the favour huh? Let you fuck my mouth instead? That what you want?” his long, thick fingers trickle into your underwear, choking at the slick he finds there, slipping and sliding over the swell of your clit, “Fuck - you got so fuckin’ worked up, bet you won’t last long, not as long as me,”

“Just, I don’t know - Yuuji, please,” a little circle of your hips puts his fingers where you need them most, “Do something or I’m gonna cry,” he shushes you, kissing you again with a loud smack,

“I got you baby, gonna make this pretty pussy feel better, I promise,” Yuuji physically flinches when he pulls his hand from between your thighs, covered nearly to the wrist with your arousal and he inhales deep, dark, nostrils flaring at your scent. His tongue drops between his fingers, slurping up to the knuckles and down to the callouses on his palms, eyes fluttering and reopening to stare at you, “You taste insane - fuck - ‘m gonna eat you so fucking good, you’re not gonna know what hit you,”

#miko.writes #yuuji itadori smut #yuuji itadori x reader #yuuji itadori x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #itadori yuuji #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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shortnotsweet · 8 months

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This technically applies to my Stepmother AU in which Alicent is around six years older than Rhaenyra, and occupies a wicked stepmother role as opposed to ex ‘friends-to-first loves-to-enemies’. Despite lacking the foundation of shared girlhood, both find simultaneous comfort and rivalry in one another, and undergo a gravitational pull. A young Rhaenyra’s eagerness to participate in swordplay and political affairs at a young is accommodated for, and she grows up with a sword in one hand and the weight of experience in another, which further helps pave her way to the throne.

Alicent’s Costuming

Alicent’s clothing is almost entirely bottle, emerald, or forest green. While there is layering present in her skirts and jackets, the accent should always be a darker green than the base color. The fabric is deep, rich, and retains an undeniably high-quality luster. Look to velvets and silks. Gold embroidery lingers around her sleeves, neck, and hemline to elevate the coloring.

Metallic embellishments should be almost military-like, and appear heavy. Contribute to the imagery of chains or shackles in addition to her status

Draws inspiration from historically accurate stiffness and Victorian shapes, with a tapered waist, imposing, puffy sleeves, and a high neckline. Despite inaccuracies, this shape is evocative of someone elegantly and conservatively feminine, repressed, and capable of exerting power over others. Reference a classic, trussed hourglass shape. Skirts should be notably heavy and full; may make noise in movement

The coloring and shapes remain relatively consistent but lack variation; this is to demonstrate a lack of freedom and exploration, as well as an adherence to conventional feminine roles

Despite these limitations, her costuming should always be put-together, coordinated, and unquestionably fashionable. Tight sleeve cuffs may be accompanied by a more traditionally medieval fan sleeve

Shoes should stick mostly to slippers, or flat designs

In this AU, her hair leans more towards a dark brown instead of auburn, as her show counterpart. This is mostly due to faux-book accuracy and to simplify the sketch process, since keeping her hair darker in comparison to Rhaenyra’s lighter hair translates more easily in uncolored renderings.

Keep her hair either in a tidy bun or pulled back and loose; avoid too many intricate shapes, braids, or styles. Occasionally, the hair will hang loose. Lean into medieval or royal headpieces, clips, coverings, etc.

Rhaenyra’s Costuming

Rhaenyra’s clothes are primarily black and red, occasionally accented or substituted with neutrals such as beige, white, or gray. Exceptions may include blue or yellow, but she generally stays in this color palette.

Strong focus is drawn to her shoulders and neckline, sometimes with embroidered or embellished detailing. She often has strong, angular shoulders in her dresses or jackets, occasionally theatrically pointed. Off-the shoulder necklines emphasize her collarbones and a certain broadness.

There should be decent variety in her clothing; there is a hypothetical outfit for every occasion and more (for battle, for riding, everyday, formal, feasts, everyday, etc.), and most should be composed of multiple pieces and utilize generous layering. This includes under-fabric, belts and corsets, jackets and doublets, draped fabric for aesthetic purpose, and even functional capes.

Most of her clothes should provide visual aid for movement; additional fabric to her skirts, for example. Her clothes should be highly stylized but still easy to move in. In riding and battle gear, it is presumed that she wears pants and boots under her skirts, even if they are not visible.

Shoes lean more into boot cuts, still practical but should have a sleek and uniform quality to them. When she walks, she should make some kind of noise. Shoes should usually be black or potentially red, the latter for decorative purposes.

Overall her style should be more contemporary and lean into the fantasy element. She’s not opposed to oriental details or showing skin, and her costumes should reflect both couture-height drama and period-reliant aspects. Longer lines and diagonal hems mean she is not as devoted to an hourglass shape, and her high collars should always be decorative in some respect.

Keep her hair long and mostly loose, sometimes pulled back. Small braids should be implied as incorporated. Occasional hairstyles feature complicated braids. With the exception of highly decorative braided styles, simple buns should be avoided unless accompanied with very high necklines.

Avoid headpieces that are not either a) her crown or b) ceremonial.

#rhaenicent #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #house of the dragon #hotd #rhaenyra x alicent #asoiaf #my art #thinking about how their character and costume designs are so communicative and are designed with each other in mind. for example havijg bc #the strong shoulders and embroidered necklines keeps them connected although imo they could’ve played around with it a lot more #I just have a lot of thoughts about them ok

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orteil42 · 9 months

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some undifferentiated thoughts about my Starfield playthrough as i have them. i am a game developer with a strong interest in procedural generation and i've enjoyed a bunch of other bethesda games so this might get pretty mean sorry

(this is a long one)

starfield dialogue is already exhausting me "oh you must've been living under a moon rock ;)" get it! because they're in space! this would've been too corny for the Jetsons

there's a kind of cheap dusting of space theme over everything. the food isn't salmon but alien salmon. it's not seaweed but alien seaweed. cooking alien stir-fry. come on

cannot get over how clumsily the theming is handled. books, board games, weapon names revolve heavily around space. these people have been living on alien planets for hundreds of years yet have this unending sense of novelty about it. the game takes itself completely seriously but feels like it's attempting to parody itself

people's EYEBALLS are CLIPPING THROUGH THEIR EYELIDS

a woman is speaking to me in french. her accent is about as believable as her haircut

these are some of the worst reflection maps i've ever seen

next to nothing is interactive. you can sit in chairs and sleep in beds and that is about it. can't even drink from people's toilets. disgraceful

game helpfully crashes 5 seconds after i decide i should get some sleep. very handy!

my character has not said a single thing since i started playing. not one peep. this is an unmitigated improvement over Fallout 4 i'm so glad honestly

the more i poke around the big city the more the NPC quips feel like something out of gen-1 pokemon. can't get enough of this coffee :) this city is where it's at :) spacesuits are comfy and easy to wear

very strange sense of altered reality from the quest dialogue too. has anyone at bethesda met a person before? i move on to some mission that has me scanning wildlife on a faraway planet hoping this will, somehow, feel less alien than human conversation

just as with No Man's Sky, every planet is uniformly dotted with equidistantly-placed points of interest that you slowly make your way to (no vehicles besides your jetpack) which always turn out to be some cave or building identical to those you've cleared before

unlike with No Man's Sky, the seamless exploration is faked and the biodiversity is nil. you do get an impressive amount of raw loading screens however

the prefab bases and power stations found everywhere on planets seem to have very sparse, very specific slots for spawning consumables, which results in encountering some giant industrial installation in the middle of nowhere with, i don't know, a loaf of whole-grain sandwich bread just casually sitting next to it all proper. there is no breathable atmosphere here. who is eating this

planetary traversal is a CHORE. i am saying this as someone who loved Death Stranding

heinous "hold to confirm" buttons sprinkled in various flow-breaking places throughout the interface

enemy AI is abominable. nobody is pathing their way to get my ass. "must've been the wind" taken to the next level. an infant playing peekaboo has more object permanence

hoisting yourself up on ledges when jumping is…nice

companions randomly nowhere to be found. persists through multiple fast-travels and loading screens until, just as randomly, they pop back up

storage space is now limited! unlike in Fallout 4 and virtually every other bethesda game, your containers now hold a finite item capacity. god forbid we let the player have fun

baffling inventory UI. i imagine there's a mod out there that completely overhauls it the way SkyUI did for Skyrim. this should not be needed! how are your UIs getting worse a decade later!

scanning the precious few species inhabiting some dusty planet; one of them is this arching red root i've already seen several times before. my job done in this biome, i travel (read: teleport with a loading screen) to the polar region to find some other species. the first one i catalogue is the exact same red root again but this time it's named "boreas root" todd howard is a genius

some alien horror comes at me full fangs out. i hop on a pebble. obscenely, i am safe

procedural terrain generation beyond dull, impossibly unimaginative. these people have not had one critical thought on what makes a procedural world interesting. beginning to feel validated in my belief that only i should be trusted with proc gen. along with perhaps tarn adams

jokes aside this is making me feel genuinely insane. there have been excellent procedural generation techniques that produce compelling explorable maps for decades now. bethesda absolutely has the budget and know-how to do miles better than this yet somehow they just…do not? the same way Pokemon has decided to just no longer bother with their mainline games despite being the highest-grossing media franchise in history? hello? what is for real going on

some of the most cynical breadcrumbing i've seen in years. approaching some random cave and this person in space gear, who in the vast immensity of the infinite cosmos just happens to be snapping pictures right here, tells me more-or-less verbatim "if you like this place, you should see this other place" [other random cave has been added to your map.]

i do not like how good this makes No Man's Sky's gameplay look. it depresses me how much i have to hand it to No Man's Sky for at least not fucking up this bad. please stop making me wish i was playing No Man's Sky instead this is grotesque

i think i've exhausted my interest and patience for this game at the moment. i'll get back to the main story at some point and try some other systems ie. crafting and base-building to see if there's any engagement to be found but so far, my god. my god

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repulsiveliquidation · 25 days

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Melted Ice Cream || Leah Williamson and Alexia Putellas

warnings : smut 18+, cunnilingus, food play, fingering, Daddy Alexia. player on player, reader only mentioned.

Based on the poem ‘Melting Ice Cream’ by Michael Faudet in his book ‘Playing with Matches."

orgy spinoff. Should I continue the orgy and work on the last part?

“Could you get the door, love?” you yell from the kitchen, basting a steak that was seconds away from medium rare. Leah rushes to the front door, heart pounding in her chest. She’s been waiting weeks for this date and she’s over the moon the special day is finally here.

Leah opens the heavy door and rushes at the person that stood behind it. Strong arms wrap around her middle and lift her off the ground, stepping into the delicious smelling house.

“Ale, finally,” Leah sighs into Alexia’s neck, feet touching the ground again.

“Hi amor, missed me that much eh?” Alexia teases, pecking Leah on the lips. Leah rolls her eyes and scoffs, taking Alexia’s bag into the master bedroom. The Spaniard searches for the kitchen, following the scent of butter browning and rosemary burning.

The figure slicing away at cucumbers doesn’t hear or see the guest she has in her home, occupied with her cooking the perfect meal for her newest lover.

“You’re realistically the only thing I’m hungry for tonight,” Alexia says cheesily as her arms snake around your middle. You’re startled but relax into her arms, leaning back into her chest as her lips leave little kisses on the shell of your ear.

“I’m sure Leah’s got something planned that should whet your appetite,” you quip, turning around in her arms. She looks down at you proudly, leaning in for a kiss.

It’s searing and full of lust, lips molding into each other perfectly. You both get lost in each other when someone clears their throat.

“I’m beginning to feel very left out here, Ale.”

“I’m sorry darling,” Alexia pulls away from you and saunters over to Leah. “Can I show you how much I've missed you?”

“Baby?” you ask, reaching into the cupboard to pull out your mandolin.

“Yeah?” Both of them answer and it sends them into a fit of giggles, leaving you shaking your head at your silly girls.

“You’ve got twenty minutes, angels. Not a minute more.”

“That’s plenty,” Alexia says, taking Leah’s hand. “Come on, we’ve got time to kill.”

Alexia leaves the door wide open, picking Leah up and throwing her onto the fluffy bed. Alexia notices the array of toys laid out on the nightstand, along with a strap that looked appealing but would have to wait till later.

“Wait here.”

Leah looks up at the Spaniard and nods, getting comfortable on the bed. Alexia goes back into the kitchen and rummages through the freezer for something; you hear a bowl and silverware but decide to pay no mind, the asparagus in front of you wasn’t going to blanch itself.

Alexia comes back into the room and Leah’s eyes narrow when she sees the bowl in her hands.

“What’s that? I swear if you’ve brought me in here to share the soup she’s made I’ll shove you back on a plane to Spain.”

“No,” Alexia smirks, setting it on the bed. “Strip.”

Leah is still understandably skeptical but does as she says, pulling the Barça jersey (which she secretly wore only in the house) off over her head. Leah arches off the bed and pushes her gym shorts off, legs spreading wide open for her girlfriend whose eyes turned dark.

“Good girl mommy,” Alexia praises, standing at the edge of the bed. She takes a spoon of whatever was in the bowl and eats it, before leaning over Leah and kissing her.

“Mmh,” Leah moans, swapping the cold dollop of ice-cream between their mouths. The sticky sweet vanilla ice-cream melted and made their kiss sweeter than it already was, leaving them wanting more.

“That was so hot,” Leah whispers, watching eagerly as Alexia feeds herself more of the sweet treat.

Alexia smashes her lips onto her lovers again, now climbing onto the bed. One hand holds herself above Leah while the other makes itself busy between Leah’s legs.

Alexia feels Leah’s arousal spike, folds sticky and warm like their mouths were as the ice cream was swallowed. The ceramic bowl didn’t hold its temperature well, so there was melted ice cream around the scoop. Alexia, feeling a light go off in her brain, gathers a spoonful of it and drizzles it all over Leah’s chest.

“Oops,” Alexia teases, watching as Leah’s skin prickles with goosebumps. “Guess I’ll have to clean up this mess I made.”

“Yeah, you s–should,” Leah whines, head tilted down to watch Alexia lick up her mess.

Alexia kisses Leah all over her chest, marking her with hickeys. She drags her tongue through the ice cream, sucking up the pearly white mess.

“You taste so good, bebita,” Alexia praises, suckling on Leah’s breast. She kneads the other gently, flicking her tongue over the hard nipple. Alexia reaches for more ice cream, taking Leah’s breast back into her mouth to play with.

Leah writhes and whines, lips begging for Alexia to touch her where she needs.

“Please Ale, lower…need you lower…”

“Ale?”

Leah’s brain short circuits and she sputters, feeling Alexia’s fingers go back to her clit.

“Daddy, please…”

“That’s better,” Alexia praises, fingers rubbing Leah’s clit faster. Her free hand slaps Leah’s breast hard which sends painful pleasure through the England skipper, her clit throbbing harder and harder. Alexia could feel it and it stroked her ego more than she dared to admit.

“Tell Daddy where you want it mi vida,” Alexia coos, fingers teasing Leah’s entrance. “Hurry baby, we don’t have much time sí?”

“I–In my pussy Daddy, hurts…” Leah whined, back arching off the bed as Alexia’s thick fingers slipped into her pussy. She lets out a deep sigh and chuckles deliriously, hips grinding down onto Alexia’s fingers.

“Good girl, such a good girl for me no?”

“Yes Daddy, only for Daddy,”

“Oh? You’re not good for her too?” Alexia teases, fingers pressing hard on Leah’s sweet spot. Her other hand presses down on Leah’s hips and holds her down, the captain squirming in her hold.

“I am! Good for you both,” Leah whimpers, eyes rolling back into her head when Alexia finger fucks her hard all of a sudden. The Spaniard smirks and pumps her fingers into her lover faster, watching as the skipper falls apart.

Alexia stops, taking the last bit of cold ice cream into her mouth before turning her attention back to Leah. Without warning, Alexia shoves her fingers back into Leah, a third slipping in alongside the other two that were pruning from how wet Leah was.

“Alexia!” Leah screams when Alexia suckles on her clit. The cold contrast of her mouth and the heat from all the blood that flooded her core was too much for Leah and she is sent head first into the most mind numbing orgasm she’s had in a while.

Leah’s thighs shake, her body jolts and her hands grip Alexia’s hair hard. She begs and begs for Alexia to stop but she doesn't until everything has been taste tested first.

“The ice cream only made you tastier darling, remind me to bring sprinkles next time,” Alexia grins, licking her lips. Leah laid there starstruck, desperately trying to wrap her head around what she just experienced.

“Girls! Dinner’s ready!”

“Coming!”

Alexia helps Leah clean up quickly, helping her throw her Barça jersey back on.

“How much did she pay you to wear that?”

“There were a lot of zeroes.”

#woso #woso smut #fc barca femeni #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #alexia putellas #leah williamson #daddy alexia #leah williamson smut #alexia putellas smut #leah williamson x alexia putellas

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milksnake-tea · 2 months

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━━ star-shaped .

War was never pretty. Death comes for both enemy and ally, and even as a healer, you cannot save everyone. Wearied by the war that seems to drag on for years, with no victory in sight, you join Jiaoqiu at the campfire for a rare moment of peace.

jiaoqiu x gn!reader

contains: based on leaks abt jiaoqiu's character stories !! but honestly its kinda implied in the quest but idk. has death, war, depictions of injuries and diseases, things are rough, can be read as platonic or romantic !!

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i love this man and his potential because goddamn war stories??? in my hsr??? sign me UP. also this was inspired by The Things They Carried by Tim Burton that i was forced to read in highschool. i loved the soldier death scene in that book so YEAH

taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven @camellia-rabbit , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace

The man you killed had two eyes; one was closed, and the other a star-shaped hole.

You wake when the sky is still dark and the sun bathes the other side of the planet. Harsh winds beat unrelentlessly at the tent’s folds, and hail pelts at the sturdy fabric.

Some of your comrades, fellow healers, sleep soundly as they can on the battlefield, while others work tirelessly in the makeshift hospital next tent over, keeping an eye on injured and diseased soldiers’ conditions.

Fire crackles outside. The sound is sharp, yet barely audible over the snow storm.

With a sigh, you pull your sheets off of you and as quietly as possible, make your way outside the tent. You aren’t going to get much sleep anyway - you might as well do something useful.

The man you killed resurfaces in your mind. He had two eyes - one closed, the other a star-shaped hole.

You pull your fur-lined coat closer around you as you step out into the camp. Snow crunches under your boots and you have to hold your hood in place to shield yourself from the hail.

To say that this planet is freezing would be an understatement. Here, the cold chilled you from your bones to your skin, seeping into your veins and leaving icicles in its wake. Frostbite was an everyday occurrence here; you’ve had to amputate more toes and fingers than ever in your life.

A silhouette sits before the fire, their back turned to you. As you get closer, you make out tall, Foxian ears and the same winter coat you’re currently wearing.

“Jiao?” you wrinkle your nose as you near, suddenly slammed with the strong scent of chili. Your comrade acknowledges you with a brief flick of the ears, but nothing more.

You don’t blame him. This war has been a harsh one, with less soldiers returning to camp every time they’re sent out. Unknown territory and harsh weather conditions made the battles long and exhausting, and healers could only do so much.

Not to mention, time passed so quickly yet so slowly here. You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve been stationed, but it feels like several lifetimes.

Everyone is tired. You can see it in the hollowed cheeks, the eyes that have grown numb to death, and the despondent numbness that has overtaken the camp. They no longer cared who won or who lost. All they wanted was to return home in one piece.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was closed, and the other was a star-shaped hole.

You sit down next to Jiaoqiu on the log. The Foxian makes no move to push you off, only shifting to the side to help make room for you. Hugging your knees to your chest, you stare blankly at the drifting embers that dance in the air.

Jiaoqiu absentmindedly stirs at his soup. It boils in a small pot just above the fire, the thin liquid a red so bright it’d be threatening… if you had the energy to be threatened.

“It’s late,” you say into the crisp silence. “You should get some sleep before the sun rises. You’ll need it for tomorrow.”

Even as the words leave your mouth, you know it’s pointless. In war, sleep is something you have to force your body into. You have to lie down in the tents, look up at the fabric sky and listen to the hustle and bustle outside as soldiers are carried in and out, and close your eyes to the screams as yet another frostbitten knight has their arm cut off. You have to put yourself first, even for that small second, and allow yourself rest while your comrades fight on the front lines.

Sleep is a luxury that no one can afford. It is an escape. It is shameful.

And from the looks of Jiaoqiu’s darkened eye bags and mindless stirring, it’s a sin he won’t be partaking in tonight.

And neither will you.

Your gaze falls to the small bag of spices lying next to Jiaoqiu on the long. You can see peppercorns, cloves, fennel, cinnamon, and… star anise.

You look away.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was closed.

“How are you faring?” Jiaoqiu finally speaks. He doesn’t look at you and keeps his eyes on the flame.

Another gust of wind runs through you.

“As well as anyone else is, I suppose.”

Jiaoqiu swirls the soup with one hand. A bubble bursts and sprays the snow in little sizzling red freckles.

“How about you?” you ask.

The snow has already covered the soup’s spill by the time Jiaoqiu replies.

“As well as one can be,” he mutters. His hands, gloved with thick leather, clench once before relaxing.

A hollow chuckle leaves you. You sigh, kicking your legs out onto the snow and leaning back on the log. You look to the sky, to the cryptically beautiful cosmos. Blues, purples, and reds merge together like watercolor clouds above you, and small, white stars bejewel them.

Stars… Your gaze becomes lidded.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was a star-shaped hole.

“Do you think that man had a family?”

If Jiaoqiu was surprised at all by your question, he didn’t show it.

“Does it matter?” He takes a small taste of his soup. Despite it practically glowing in red, he doesn’t seem satisfied. “He was the enemy, need I remind you.”

You close your eyes briefly. “But I’m a healer.”

“You are.” Jiaoqiu opens his pouch and dumps in the rest of his chili rations - what for, you don’t know nor do you care to know. “You are also a soldier of the Xianzhou Yaoqing military. War always ends up in casualties, you know this. So did the soldier.”

There’s a bitterness in his tone that makes you wonder if he was talking to himself as well as to you. Your eyes soften.

“You did what you could, Jiao,” you offer. You want to put your hand on his shoulder, but you aren’t sure if that is appropriate, given the circumstances. “What happens outside the camp is beyond our control.”

Jiaoqiu sighs. His hand tightens around the ladle.

“Then what’s the point?” he whispers. His brows furrow, and his eyes open - a gem of amber reflecting years worth of grief and hopelessness. “What purpose do I have as a healer if I cannot stop my patients from hurtling towards their deaths?”

He turns to you, searching your face for any sort of answer that could satisfy him, that could reassure him that there was meaning, there was a point, that all of those bandages and surgeries and amputations weren’t for naught.

But you cannot answer him, for it is a question that no healer knows the answer to.

“You gave them another chance at life,” you say softly, unconvincingly. “That’s all that matters.”

“Even if that life is destined to end regardless of what I do?”

Dead eyes meet dull ones.

“What happens outside the camp is beyond our control,” you repeat blankly.

The man you killed had two eyes.

Jiaoqiu searches your gaze once more, before ultimately giving up. The amber of his eyes close, and he returns to the cauldron.

In a feeble attempt to console him, you go against your earlier thoughts and rest a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. But with the roughness of your gloves and the cold limiting the dexterity of your hands, it isn’t much - but it’s enough.

Jiaoqiu glances at your hand, then back at the cauldron.

“Do you feel bad?”

You blink, a bit caught off guard by the question, but you settle down soon enough.

“No,” you say after a brief pause. “He would’ve killed us if I hadn’t killed him.”

You lean forward, resting your head in your palm as you watch the flames swallow up what little tinder the others managed to collect.

“I’m just glad to be alive.” You don’t sound like you believe it.

Jiaoqiu’s ear flicks. You hear him stand up and scoop some of the soup up into his ladle, and dash out his tongue to taste it. His tail swishes, and his eyes widen momentarily, amber flashing like lightning.

A smile, a weary, tired, but grateful smile, slips onto his lips.

He turns to you, vitality returned, even if it’s just for a moment.

“Try this,” he says, holding the ladle out towards you.

You eye it warily. The liquid drips down the sides of the ladle and drops down onto the snow below, sizzling the second red touches white. You didn’t think it was possible for the soup to get even redder, but Jiaoqiu somehow did it.

“I won’t die if I eat it, right?” you try to joke. Jiaoqiu huffs, his breath steaming in the air.

“You doubt my cooking capabilities?”

You shake your head. “No, but whatever you have in there doesn’t exactly look… edible.”

And yet you’re already leaning forward to taste his concoction. Jiaoqiu carefully holds the ladle still as you take a sip.

Instantly your senses are flooded with pure, unyielding heat. Fire blazes on your tongue, searing your throat and bringing tears to your eyes. Your stomach burns, and for the first time since you’ve come to this planet, you stop shivering.

It’s painful.

It’s exhilarating.

“It’s delicious,” you praise despite the coughs that wreck your being. “Although… did you have to add so much chili?”

Jiaoqiu hums out a laugh. “But that’s what makes it special.”

You don’t bother denying it. Instead, you laugh alongside him, eyes crinkling with joy instead of pain after years of constant war.

You’ll have to return to the war eventually. The sun is already beginning to rise, and soon the soldiers will be awakened to go out into battle once more. You’ll have to take over for your comrades who had spent the night in the hospital.

But you don’t have to do it just yet.

For now, you just want to enjoy this moment, this second of normalcy and peace in the battlefield.

The man you killed had two eyes.

One was closed.

The other was a star-shaped hole.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

#—stellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr jiaoqiu #jiaoqiu #hsr jiaoqiu x reader #jiaoqiu x reader #jiaoqiu hsr x reader #jiaoqiu hsr #x reader #reader insert #y/n #archives 🏵️

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myromanempiree · 2 months

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Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Azriel x Reader

word count- 1.1k

Summary - In the books, its usually the male getting jealous after a fresh mating bond. I don't see enough of the female getting jealous.

a/n - I read a lot of Azriel angst today, @azrielbrainrot 's "I laugh like me again, and she laughs like you" hurt so good. (go read it!) But I decided to write some fluff,because its good for my heart, and I needed to get back into the swing of writing and wanted to learn how to write smut. So this is kinda messy.

c/w - p in v, tooth rotting fluff, jealousy, fem reader

Again, he was talking to Elain again.

He was helping her work in the garden of your shared home, which he had asked her to do after learning your favorite flowers. Even though you knew it was just Azriel being his usual self, unable to let someone do work by themselves even when he asked for it, you still couldn't help but want him all for yourself.

Perhaps it was the freshly accepted mating bond, only about a month old. Yes, thats what's it was. Just some base, lesser instincts, not at all jealousy. No, not that.

Your piercing stare seems to garner the middle Archeron's attention, who excitedly waves you over. You walk through the garden, moving like a magnet to Azriel. Arm looped in his, your face buried into his bicep.

You ignored the conversation, focusing on your mates warm body. Eyes still hostile, gazing at Elain.

Everything seemed to be generally running smoothly until she touched his arm, your mates arm. There was nothing adherently flirtatious about the movement, she was simply thanking him for hauling heavy bags soil, but it still irked you.

In fact, it irked you enough to elicit a low growl from your throat. The Archeron's eyes light with amusement, a small smile on her pink lips. Your mate looking rather taken aback.

"You two should probably go back inside, Im almost done." Elain said, clapping her hands together. "Alright, help yourself to the pastries in the kitchen when you're done.' Your mate said kindly.

Then Azriel placed a scarred, warm hand on your back, guiding you inside of your cottage

"Love? What was that?" Your mate asked, a gentle smirk on his stupidly kissable lips. When you didn't answer he gently pulled you closer to him by your hand and small of your back. "Love?" He repeats.

You flush in embarrassment, looking at his shoulder, a shadow dancing along with Azriel's amusement.

You huff, moving past him, causing a soft laugh to escape his lips, following you to your shared bedroom.

After you hear the door click, you feel strong arms wrap around your waist, a firm body against your back. Azriel's warm breath dances across your skin as he buried his face into your neck.

"Answer me." He cooed softly, nuzzling his nose against the skin, his fingers drawing uncoordinated patterns on your hips. "Love?" Azriel began, kissing your skin. "Love of my life, sweetheart, darling, lovely. What happened?"

A silence enveloped the room, only for a few seconds before you whispered. "She touched your arm..."

You regretted it as soon as the words escaped your mouth, as soon as Azriel let out a deep, rumbling laugh that sent a heat to your core. The heat intensified as he moved his hands down to your thighs, kissing your neck.

"It didn't mean anything, my love..." Azriel began, "I know...I just—" you said softly.

"Were you jealous, little love?" His devilish smirk warm against your neck. And a soft nod of your head causes it to only widen. "You have nothing to be jealous of. You're the only one for me, only you." He mumbled truthfully, "A touch on the arm won't change that."

You still seemed a little wary, a little jealous. Azriel could feel it through the glimmering bond he had absolutely cherished since the moment he felt it. He slowly turns you around, picking you up in his arms. A soft, squealed "Azriel!" leaving your lips.

"Would you like me to prove it to you?" He said, laying you onto the bed, kissing along your collarbone, a soft sigh escaped you lips. Urging him forward, "That would be nice."

He grinned again, moving his calloused fingers up your thighs, dancing across the slightly dampened cloth of your panties. He began moving it aside to slide two of his thick fingers into you, eliciting a soft gasp as he continued.

Azriel's fingers curling inside you felt beyond heavenly, you squirm under him, placing your hands on his shoulders as he moved. He slowly kissing in between your breasts, humming contently and he scissors his fingers.

His thumb pushed against your clit, a breathy moan escaping you. "There we go..." He purred, "Such a good girl." You let out a soft squeal as his warm mouth attached to a pert nipple, "Azzie! Mh—...fuck, I'm close."

His mouth curved around your nipple, giving it one last flick of his tongue before finding the spongey spot inside you that made you see stars.

Azriel groaned, his forehead digging into your cleavage as you come down from your high. He slowly removed his fingers, causing a soft moan to leave your lips.

He gently kissing your lips and moved to bring down his trousers, freeing his aching cock. You hum and move to bring your mouth down to it, before he catches you. "No can do, pretty." He mumbled, smudging the pre and your cum along his length, before slowly insisting himself.

Even after almost a year of being together, the stretch still burned. You hissed softly, moving to get your fingers in his hair. Her gently placed a hand on the inside of your thigh, massaging softly. "Breathe, pretty. Deep breaths. Follow me.' He mumbled, guiding you in breathing,

"Just like that, love." Azriel cooed rewardingly, moving to test a soft thrust. When you didn't wince, he nods to himself, clasping his hands along you hip and thigh, holding you steady while he does all of the work.

You let out a soft whine, burying your face into the crook of his neck as taking in deep breaths as you slowly make love. He pressed gentle kisses along your hairline, his thumb stroking your hip reassuringly, the murmuring praises.

The room filled with pants, the rustling of wings, skin slapping together and the slight creaking of your shared bed. And as you both approached the edge together, a loud moan escaped your lips, and a mumbled curse from Azriel.

The couple sat in a cozy silence, before Azriel gently placed his head on her chest. "Did I prove you wrong?" He asked teasingly. "Mhm..." You lazily mumble, stroking his hair, a soft chuckle escaped his lips.

He then removed himself and moved to clean you up, scooping you into his arms and walking to the bathroom, perching you onto the counter. He dampened a cloth, gently wiping away your mixed cum and kissing your thighs.

After cleaning up, you both dress on another, and you mumble a soft apology for being jealous. "You're alright, it was cute.' He teased, kissing your forehead and guiding you to the kitchen to get water.

Elain sits at the table, a crumbly pastry in hand, and a small grin on her face, before extending the pastry box to the pair, with mirth dancing in her eyes.

"Croissant?"

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #Azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fluff #acotar fanfic #azriel #Azriel x you #azriel smut #azriel fic

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parfaitblogs · 3 months

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you're losing me ❀ s. reid x reader

in which he's an entirely different person after prison, and your relationship is crumbling.

pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: angst tags: post prison reid. no happy ending. argument/fight. strong language. word count: 2.0k a/n: big fan of soul crushing angst. clearly. i dreamt this one up in an everything shower. likely place for me to plan fics? whole lot of nothing happening i love yapping about sadness!! my least favourite spencer trait is that he doesn't think he deserves good things so he pushes them away so obviously i have to write novellas on him doing just that? this used to be based on tolerate it but i listened to ylm the entire time so erm. things change! lol enjoy xoxo

Perhaps you were stupid.

Very, very stupid. And ridiculous. And every other synonym for those two words that your brain could not possibly imagine up right now. You were all of them. But also none of them. Because you also felt like there was not a single word that could describe you anymore; if there was, maybe you'd consider yourself a person. But clearly you weren't a person. Not anymore, at least. Not to him.

An awfully painful year it had been. And maybe that's what stripped you of your right to be a person. Maybe it was the overtime. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was everything all at once. Maybe it was nothing at all.

Three years of dating one man meant you learned quite a bit about who he is as a person to you. Eight years of knowing him meant you knew very well what sort of person he is in general.

And this wasn't him.

He was sitting on your couch. A piece of furniture that had, in just one year, erased the memory of you from it, there no longer being an indent on the right side where you always sat. A book was sat in his lap, but he wasn't properly reading it. You could tell from how slowly he turned the pages. From how he stopped every few minutes to rub his eyes, his eyebrows creasing and a quiet, irritated huff leaving his lips.

It was a habit he had developed.

This was how it was every night. Three o'clock came, and your body would wake you up from an otherwise restless sleep, and you would drag your feet out to where the man who should be occupying the other side of your bed, actually is. And he wouldn't look up, but you both acknowledged each other's presence, silently.

And you would watch him for an hour. Until your eyes began to droop, and your feet started to ache, and your heart couldn't handle any more shattering for the night. And then you would drag yourself back to the bedroom, and you would climb into a now cold bed, and you would fall back asleep for another two hours.

Like clockwork.

You were good with him. So patient. You would make him mugs of morning coffee that he wouldn't drink, and you would wash clothes he wouldn't say 'thank you' for. You wondered if he was actually grateful or not.

You were too scared to ask.

"Hey," you said, quietly, when he had come home from work, shrugging his bag off his shoulders, and slipping shoes off his feet.

"Hi," he answered. As if on instinct, he moved to where you were seated at the barstool to kiss you in greeting, before brushing past and heading into the kitchen.

You watched him for a few moments as he found a piece of bread to eat, nothing on it. Just... dry. Before your eyes returned to the laptop screen you had open in front of you, fingers tapping away at your keyboard.

"There's been another terror threat," you said to him, tilting your head to the side. "But they let me work from home."

"Why'd they do that?" he asked, but he could not sound less interested.

You lifted your head, because you thought he knew. "Because of you, Spence."

"Oh, okay," he answered, and you watched as he threw out half of the bread he did not eat, before he disappeared down the hallway.

He didn't even care.

You stared at the empty space down the hall, where he had once been, heart lodged in your throat in an uncomfortable lump you couldn't swallow. This was why you felt stupid.

Maybe you were sick of feeling stupid. You must be, because subconsciously, your feet had already planted themselves firmly on the floor, and your legs were already taking you down the hall in the exact direction he had just disappeared to.

He was taking his button up off when you appeared in the doorway to your bedroom, replacing it with a t-shirt. You had never seen him wear so many t-shirts until now.

You cleared your throat, alerting him of your presence, and he turned, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw you.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" you said, voice wavering with cautiousness.

His lips parted, then they closed, and all he managed was a short nod, before he turned back around to find pyjama pants in his drawers.

"Spencer, I'm serious," you pressed, taking a step into the room. "You need to talk to someone about this."

"I have those counseling sessions at work," he answered, turning back around to face you only once he was wearing pants.

Your lips pursed. "You hate those."

"Yes, but I'm talking to someone."

"Not someone you trust!"

"And if I talk to you, it would be so different compared to a counsellor, right?"

You froze. He froze. Maybe he realised the implication of his words, you certainly did. That such a simple spoken sentence had your heart stuttering in your chest.

You shakily exhaled. "I'd hope it would be different," you decided to say. "But I wouldn't be surprised if it isn't anymore."

He stood straighter at your comment. Perhaps not the best thing to say. Certainly not the most mature.

"What does that mean?"

Right. The reason you decided to follow him in the first place. "I just—I don't feel like you care anymore. And I have tried to be patient, Spencer. I really have. But you shut me out, and we don't even talk anymore. I make you coffee, I do your laundry, I offer to cook, I clean up the house, I do everything I possibly can so you can focus on healing, and I can't even get a proper sentence out of you unless we're arguing."

He inhaled sharply, staring at you. "I don't know if you forgot, but I was locked in a prison for three and a half months."

Your shoulders deflated, your eyebrows creasing and lips pulling down into a frown. "Seriously? I express that I am feeling neglected, and your only response is that you've been in prison—"

"—Well, it kind of changed who I am!"

You fell silent for a few moments, trying to collect your thoughts before you threw them all in his face and actually ruined things between you two.

"I just feel like you don't care anymore," you repeated, voice awfully soft compared to how hard your body was shaking in anxiety.

He ran a hand through his hair, and he opened his mouth to speak with that same frustrated frown, so you cut him off.

"And yes, I know you're dealing with everything that happened to you in prison. I only know what they told us, so I can't even imagine how much you're withholding. Because I know that's what you do. But that doesn't give you an excuse to treat me like I'm not important in your life anymore. I mean, If I'm not, then tell me. If you really don't care, or you've decided that you can't be in a relationship and process everything at the same time, then I'd like to know."

The silence is uncomfortable. And thick. And you're staring at him with eyes that burned with tears you weren't ready to shed yet. He's coming up with a response, so slowly you think maybe prison actually did break his brain.

"I do care," he finally said, and you wondered if it took him three minutes to come up with that because he was controlling a lie. You pushed that thought out of your head. "But I also don't want you to wait for me to be better, if it's making you feel this way."

Oh.

"Okay," you manage to say, voice not above a whisper as you stared at him.

"Okay," he echoed, and the tears you were trying so hard to keep in brimmed your waterline, blurring your vision. If he hadn't become one big blob in your vision because of them, you might've seen his eyes soften and his shoulders deflate.

Maybe he was waiting for you to confront him about it all. So he could end things. Maybe he's been thinking about this for too long, and this was just the final push he needed. You'd like to hope it was a spur of the moment decision, and he wasn't banking on this relationship ending.

"I'll stay at a friend's," you then murmured, wiping the tears from your eyes, sniffling pathetically.

"No, this is—"

"—You deserve familiar walls," you cut him off. "I'm sure anything else would freak you out."

He fell silent, because you were right. But he didn't want to kick you out of your own home. He didn't want to kick you out of his life, a sickening revelation he was having all too late.

Maybe that was why, when you turned around to leave, he called your name. Pleadingly. So, you turned back, and he stared at you, and silence fell over you two again.

"What?" you breathed out after a few too many minutes of quiet.

"I don't know how to talk to you. Or anyone. Not—not just you."

"About what happened?"

"In general."

You stilled, confusion sweeping across your features, for the thousandth time tonight alone. "You don't have to talk to me, if you can't. Regularly, I mean. That's not... that's not what I'm asking of you. I just need you to communicate with me. I feel like you don't even have feelings for me anymore. That's where most of my issues lie."

"I do have feelings for you."

"It doesn't feel that way."

More silence. More thick, deafening silence that felt like you had submerged your head underwater. And you really just wanted to come to a final conclusion. If this was the end.

"Then is it just that you don't want to be with me anymore? If it is, please tell me," you said, voice pathetically desperate.

He stared at you some more. Silence accompanying him, like some (annoyingly) comforting best friend amidst this conversation. And you slowly nodded your head as what he wanted became clear to you, your heart stuttering uncomfortably in your chest. Your stomach flipping.

"Indecision doesn't look good on you," you finally cut through the blanket of quiet. "I need a verbal answer, Spencer."

"I do want to be with you—"

"—Then fight, dammit!" you finally snapped, the tears you had managed to control coming back to you, a sob lodging in your throat. "I am sick of you saying you do feel this, and you don't feel that. Make a fucking decision. Please. I cannot keep up a fight for the both of us anymore. You're losing me here, Spencer."

"I'm scared!" he shouted, and you took a step back, his voice vibrating throughout the room. He waged an internal battle for a few moments at your recoil. "That. That right there is what I'm scared of. I am so scared of scaring you."

"You scare me more when you shut down. I will take your anger over your silence."

"I won't," he snapped, watching you flinch. Again. You wanted to stop flinching.

"It proves to me that you're actually feeling things. Spencer, I feel like I've been living with a ghost."

"I can't control my anger anymore," he added your name with a voice crack, mirroring your heart.

You blink some more tears down your cheeks. "You don't have to. You are allowed to be angry."

"Not around you," he shook his head, his hands brushing curls out of his face. "What if I—I hurt you."

"What if you don't?"

It seemed he hadn't considered that possibility, because he fell silent, and averted his gaze to the ground. He shook his head after a beat. "I can't take that risk."

You stared at him for a moment longer, weighing up your options, before you sighed. "Fine. Don't." He said your name again. "No. If you're not willing to fight, then... then fine. Don't fight. But neither will I."

He didn't say anything as you took a step back from the room. And even as you stilled for a few seconds longer, achingly but silently begging him to ask you to stay, he didn't utter a word. Which was, really, all you needed in confirmation.

And so you left.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst

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