#catch me coming back to this post sometime in the future and using this as inspiration for oneshots

[reiderwriter]

Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (GN + AFAB)

Summary: The AC at the BAU decides to take a holiday during a summer heatwave, and when you decide the FBI’s dress code is merely a suggestion, you unwittingly catch Spencer’s eye.

Genre: smut (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!reader, semi-public sex, fingering, car sex, degradation, name-calling, edging, praise-kink, dumbification, basically Spencer is a tease and the reader really gets off on using his official title.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: Hello! This is my first posted fic, so any feedback is welcome and absolutely appreciated (I tried to keep it GN!AFAB but if you notice any gendered pronouns pls lmk immediately!) I finally decided to start writing again after a few years, so I might be a bit rusty but I recently started rewatching Criminal Minds and I am so in love with Spencer! This little fic was inspired by @imagining-in-the-margins CM Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge, so big thank you to them for the inspiration! This could also develop into a multi part fic in the future, so if that’s something you’d be interested in, please let me know in the tags and comments! XOXO K

Part two!

After three years in the BAU, you should know that summers in Quantico, Virginia are nothing to play about. Sure, it could be cloudy sometimes, and summer rain did allow for some relief, but with a heatwave on the way and a week of office work ahead of you, it seemed every member of your team was excited for the office AC. 

That was, of course, until the maintenance department sent out an office-wide email telling you it was “undergoing work” for the foreseeable future. 

You received the email during your commute, and immediately turned around to change. There was no way you were surviving in your slacks and long-sleeve shirt, and, truth be told, you knew that your bosses wouldn’t mind if you were a little more relaxed in your workplace attire if you weren’t going to be spending time in the field. 

It took all of thirty seconds to shoot a message to Garcia, telling her that you’d be a few minutes late for your daily carpool, letting her know the situation so she didn’t hack into your car GPS (which she still claims she absolutely did not do the last time you accidentally slept in, but would in an emergency just to know you were safe). 

She quickly sent you a reply: “put on that floral number we picked up last week! Between you and Morgan, I'm hoping my eyes will be feasting today 😉.” 

You let out a little chuckle as you read the message, and quickly complied. A sundress didn’t sound too bad right now at all. 

The dress in question was perhaps pushing it slightly for office work. It was short, and you knew immediately when putting it on that you would spend the day pulling it down to a more appropriate length. But the shade of blue fit your skintone perfectly, and the floaty material was exactly what you needed to beat the heat. 

Grabbing your keys again before you could second guess yourself, you didn’t let your mind linger quickly on the thought that perhaps the dress was a little attention grabbing. And perhaps there was someone in the office whose attention you wanted to grab. 

-X-

The commute into the office wasn’t bad, but stepping out of your nicely temperature regulated car into a wall of heat made you thank yourself for your foresight. And it seemed that the rest of your team was dealing similarly. Walking into the office, you noticed that Prentiss had divested herself of her shirt, sitting comfortably with an iced coffee and red tank top, an electric fan inches from her face. Morgan was similarly outfitted in lighter clothes than usual, and you could audibly hear Penelope’s brain working to come up with the best heat related compliment for her work husband. You couldn’t see Hotch or Rossi, but you knew they kept their own back-up units in their offices, so they wouldn’t be struggling at all today. You assumed JJ, too, was in her office.

“Well, look at you Cutie. You’re gonna break some hearts today, I know.” You roll your eyes as you throw your bag down. You were used to Morgan’s playful teasing by now, but compliments and affirmations were always welcome. You grimaced looking down at your desk chair and realised you had another problem. Your very recent purchase of a black leather office chair was going to absolutely make your day a living hell. Before you resigned yourself to a day of sitting in the orthopedic seventh layer of hell, your heard the angelic call of your office BFF.

“It feels like the devil’s armpit in here, god, do not expect an miracles from me today, I’m collecting my laptop and immediately moving away from all the heavy heat-producing machinery in my cave. Anyone got any space at their desk for me to work at?” 

“Yes!” You replied a little too quickly. 

“Feel free to make yourself at home, Pen, I have to look over some files with Reid later anyways so I’ll just pull up a spare chair to his desk, it’s all yours.” You thanked your lucky stars that everyone was too hot to tease you about your imminent proximity to the office’s Boy Wonder. 

It turns out hiding a small, tiny, stupid crush from a team of FBI profilers wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but you were confident in thinking the only one who had clocked on so far was Penelope. And that was only because of your weekly girls nights and an unfortunate habit of spilling secrets while intoxicated. Sure, the others still teased sometimes, but that was only because the two of you were the easiest targets. And they just didn’t know how on the nose they were sometimes. 

She gave you a quick look, of the ‘we will be discussing this later’ variety but didn’t say anything else and quickly excused herself to collect her things. 

You quickly pulled up a (non-leather) chair next to Reid’s and straightened out your dress as you started searching for the file you were looking for. Although you absolutely had an ulterior motive to intruding on his space, you actually did have work to do. But the heat, and the knowledge that you’d be working closely with Reid again any minute now did nothing to help you stay focused. 

Of course, having worked on the same team now for three years meant that you’d been alone together before. In all honestly, he was your partner of choice for any field task and you complimented each other well. The two of you worked together on Geographical Profiles for the majority of your cases, using your people skills, and his practical knowledge to gain insight into the locations unsubs lived, worked, murdered and hid their victims. And of course, you were friends outside the office, too. But you felt there was a distance between the two of you that made itself known the minute you stepped off the Jet or out of the bullpen. 

As you searched the desk, you let your mind wander to what he would look like in this heat. You knew he didn’t deal with the heat well, and could often be found with his shirt sleeves rolled up and top buttons undone on the cases in the warmer climates. You thought about him panting in the heat, pushing his hair out of his face, glistening with sweat and grumbling quietly about the heat. You specifically thought back to a case from a few weeks back, where the two of you had an awkward run-in with an automatic sprinkler when you made your way to interview a witness. His purple shirt had ended up soaked, and on day six of the investigation, his go bag was thankfully short of replacement clothing. So he’d sat in the precinct, shirt semi-transluscent, completely oblivious to your brazen oggling and sudden lack of anything intellectual to say. Or anything to say in general. 

It was only as you felt yourself getting warmer (a particularly impressive feat on today of all day’s) that you had to pull yourself out of the fantasy. But of course, as you stood up to get yourself a cool drink, you realised you were face to face with the man of your fantasies. 

“Y/N? Did you need something?” He looked down at you, with a soft smile on his face. 

“Oh! No, it was Garcia, she, um, she needed somewhere to work because her office is practically a sauna with all those computers. And I was thinking, we still need to work on that report on the geographical profile from the last case, so I offered her…my…” You trailed off, noticing you were rambling and allowed yourself a second to look at the man in front of you properly for the first time that day. 

It was going to be a miracle if you got any work done ever again.  

Like you, he’d opted for a change in uniform. He’d rid himself of his usual waistcoat-cardigan combo and was left in a button down shirt. It was, as you’d hoped and prayed, open slightly more than usual at the top. You frowned unconsciously as you realised he had also pushed his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, unhappy that you wouldn’t get to watch him do it in-person, his veins popping out as he exerted himself in the smallest way. 

A few seconds of silence passed, and you had to make yourself tear your eyes away from a droplet of sweat that was neatly making its way down his throat, tracing a line that you could only hope to one day follow with your lips.  When you snapped your eyes up to his, he nervously did the same, gripping  his bag a little tighter to him. 

“Oh, yeah that sounds good, um, let me just put my bag down and we can, uh, get started I guess.” 

“Yeah of course. I was just gonna grab a drink first, do you want one?” 

“Sure, yeah, a coffee would be good.”

“Okay, I’m no expert but that cannot be healthy in this heat. I know you’re practically a caffeine addict at this point, but I’m getting you a glass of water and you’re going to thank me, okay Doctor?”

He rolled his eyes and settled comfortably into his seat, but made no complaints as you walked away. 

-X-

“This is ridiculous, how can they expect us to work like this?” Agent Prentiss grumbled from her desk. 

“Oh, come on now, Prentiss, you can’t be complaining about a little heat, now.” 

You rolled your eyes at your coworkers playful back-and-forth, doing your best to not melt into your borrowed seat. You’d been working side-by-side with Reid for the last three hours and the heat was now unbearable. You were stuck to the seat in an uncomfortable way, especially with the extra exposed skin from your dress. It had ridden up your legs more than you expected it would, so you were constantly shifting in your seat attempting to keep yourself decent. 

The heat rolling off your teammate didn’t help. You had assumed that his love of cardigans, scarves and layers in general meant that he usually ran on the cooler side, but he was practically burning up next to you, making any and all accidental touch near intolerable. 

Each accidental brush of his fingers as you passed files between the two of you, each knock of your knees together under the desk as you moved to read over one-anothers shoulders, and every time you got up for another drink, it’s like he’s read your mind because he stood up at the same time and you had to awkwardly untangle yourself from the mess of desk chairs and office furniture. With every touch, you feel yourself getting hotter and hotter, the heat pooling between your legs embarrassingly.

It’s only when, later in the day, he brushes the seam of your skirt with his fingers when reaching over you with his other hand for a file you know for a fact he does not need, you realise that all of those accidental touches may have been absolutely intentional. 

Lowering your voice to a whisper, you bring your lips closer to his ears.”Spence, what was that?” You try to keep your voice steady, but his fingers are stil lingering closer to your sensitive areas than you found comfortable.

He drops his eyes to yours, looking you in the eye for the first time since you started working together in a comfortable silence. 

“What was what?” He asks innocently, his cheeks flushes as he starts drawing small circles on your thigh.

“You’re touching me. You’ve been touching me a lot today, Doctor.”

“Oh, I’m Doctor now, am I?” He smiles at you before quickly moving his attention back to the file he was reading. 

“Don’t change the subject.” You feel your whole body flush, as he ignores you and continues his reading, not removing his hand from your leg the entire time. 

“S-Spencer, I’m serious.”  He looks at you again then, and your heart jumps into your throat as you realise he’s removed his hand from the hem of your skirt, only to have it return under the material, moving closer and closer to where you really wanted him. 

“You know,” he whispers under his breath, so quiet you’re sure that no one could overhear, “you look really pretty in this dress.”

Your brain is short circuiting as you feel his hand on your inner thigh, failing to register the implication of his words as you do your best to stammer out a reply. 

“A-actually, Garcia chose it out for me. She said that you would-” you cut yourself off before you can say anymore. You’re surrounded by a room of your close friends and teammates and you’re doing your best not to beg your incredibly attractive coworker to push his fingers into you right then and there. Biting your lip so you don’t say anything else, you try to stand and shift away. 

But Reid is there, and with his other hand he maneouvers you even closer to him somehow.  

“She said I would what, beautiful?”

He’s so close now and you find yourself again staring at his exposed neck, wanting nothing more than to bury your head in him and kiss and lick and bite until he gives you what you want. The little circles he’s drawing on your legs are removing your inhibitions quicker than any alcohol could. 

But then he grips you a little tighter, and forces you to look up into his eyes again and respond. 

“She said that you would, uh, she said that you would’nt be able to take your eyes off of me. We were shopping together and she was just teasing and, well, yeah.”

“All dressed up for me, then? You thought you’d test the theory and see if she was right?” 

And suddenly he’s ghosting his fingers across your panties and you’re doing your best to not make any other noises as he looks you deep in your eyes.

“Do you think she was right, Y/N?” He asks. But before your brain can catch up and choose whether or not to answert, he’s pulling away. He’s standing up and he’s walking over to Morgan, file in hand, asking questions about another previous case file, and you’re left sitting at his desk questioning if any of that actually just happened.

-X-

You spent the rest of the day in a daze. Luckily, your team was so busy complaining about the heat that you were sure none of them noticed the tension you carried through the rest of your day. With the AC still not working, Garcia had gained permission from Hotch to head back to her own apartment to finish up the day with more appropriate equipment, and had quickly evacuated your desk, allowing you to retreat back to your own space. 

Emily had finished her own paperwork early due to a well-timed bet with Morgan, and had taken herself off to JJ’s office, and Morgan was meeting with Hotch in his office to discuss a potential death row intervew. So with the end of the workday in sight, only you and Reid remained in the bullpen. 

After your little run in, you knew that you weren’t going to get any effective work done. Emily had once joked that Reid’s high IQ gets slashed to 60 every time he comes in contact with an attractive woman. At the time, you’d laughed, joked along. Nowthat it was your reality, it wasn’t as funny to you. 

He’d played with you, called you beautiful, had his hands on you in the most frustratingly dizzying way- and then just as soon walked away from you. It wasn’t as if you wanted him to take you right then and there, in front of the entire office. 

In fact, you’re quite sure that no matter how horny you were, you’d have stopped him before he went any further that publically. But you weren’t as sure you wouldn’t have dragged him off to a supply closet and forced him down on his knees and under your skirt. 

To be short, you were pissed. He had left you, hot and bothered, on a day where you literally could get no relief from the heat. 

You watched him work for a while after that. His desk faced away from yours, which meant you could covertly watch him whilst he worked and he would be none the wiser. After catching yourself staring a hole into the back of his head for the fifth time in an hour, you  grunted out a curse and started packing your things up for the day. Unfortunately, you were just loud enough to catch the man’s attention. 

“Leaving so soon, princess?”

“Yes. It’s hot and I’m tired and I just want to go home and take a cold shower and get into bed.” You started packing your things up again, but you quickly noticed that Spencer was doing the same. 

“Are you leaving as well?” You asked, your stomach doing a small flip in apprehension of his answer. 

“Yeah. I’m also hot, and tired and a cold shower sounds amazing right about now.” 

You flushed at even the slightest change of a double meaning. Did he want to shower with you? Was he really going to step over that line? 

He continued to pack up his things calmly, and you did the same. You walked towards the elevator, and it wasnt until he reached from behind you to press the call button that you realised he was so closely following you. 

“And besides, your bed sounds amazing right about now.” The hairs on your neck stood up as he whispered into your ear, his hot breath fanning against your neck as you felt heat pool between your legs for the second time that day. You froze up like a deer in headlights, and as the elevator dinged open, you felt Spencer walk you in, press the button, and close the door before making his next move. 

“You didn’t answer me earlier, you know? When I asked about the dress? Do you think Garcia was right?” He had crowded you into one corner of the elevator, and your brain was still short-circuiting. Shit, maybe you were the one whose IQ was cut in half, because the man in front of you seemed more confident than you had ever seen him before. 

His placed his hands on the guard rail either side of you, as one of his legs found its way between yours and you let out a small whimper, then cursed yourself when you saw the smirk growing on his face. 

“Come on, Princess, use your words.” He teased again. 

“She wasn’t right.” You breathed out. “You looked at me a few times, but nothing too long and nothing…inappropriate, but-”

“But what?” He pushed his leg further into you, moving his hands to grip the fabric at our waist,  and suddenly you were counting your blessings that no other agent in the building had decided to use the elevator right now. 

“But you can’t keep your hands off of me.” His lips crashed into yours the second you finished your sentence, as you desperately grabbed at his hair, desperate to feel more and more of him against you despite the sticky heat. 

He pulled away reluctantly as the elevator came to a stop in the basement carpark, but you still desperately clung to him, pressing kisses into his jaw and down his neck as you breathed in the scent of his sweat on his skin. Your words had failed you, but your body was desperate to communicate exactly what you needed. 

He chuckled as he pulled you off of him, stroking your hair as he pulled you to your car. Opening the passenger side door for you and taking the keys from your bag, he placed a kiss to your temple, pulling away only enough to whisper into your ear. ”Which one of us can’t keep their hands off the other now?” 

You were hot and delirious and you were not going to interrupt him now. He climbed into the driver’s seat, something you knew he didn’t do often, and placed his hand on your leg again as he drove. 

“Spread your legs,” he ordered as soon as you were far enough away from the building. You complied immediately, not wanting to interrupt anything the man might do to you. “Good girl,” he mumbled as he immediately picked up where he left off earlier, rubbing your sensitive nub through your underwear. Your dress was pushed up now 

“You know, Garcia was right” he spoke again, his fingers snaking their way under the elastic of your underwear. You could only moan in surprise, desperately close to getting exactly what you wanted.  

“I have been staring at you this whole day. You came in this short dress, practically on display for anyone to see.” His fingers were now slowly circling your clit, going torturously slowly as you bucked up your hips for some much needed friction.  

“When you got me that glass of water, I followed you, you know. Watched you reach for the glass on the top shelf, saw your skirt riding up. We’re you so desperate for me to notice you that you put yourself on display for the entire office like a little whore?” You moaned in surprise as his words registered in your mind. 

You tried to reply, to deny and protest your innocence, but he chose that minute to thrust a finger into you, the awkward angle forced by your position in the car creating a beautiful friction. You started rocking your hips quicker against his hand, opening yourself up to him fully, and grabbing his wrist so he couldn’t pull away for a third time that day. 

“You can’t even deny it, Look at you using my hand to get yourself off. Are you gonna come for me? Gonna do it right here in your car?”  You moan out a yes as he adds another finger, stretching you out further as you whimper around him. 

“Fuck, yes Spence, I’m a whore, your little whore.” You feel that familiar coil in the bottom of your stomach tighten and soon your releasing yourself all over his hands.  Gasping for air, your head falls back on the passenger seat, and you release your grip on Spencer’s hands. 

“Good job, princess, you did so well for me. We’re almost home now, let’s get you in that shower.” You whimper a little, nodding as you allow your brain to settle once again, completely comfortable with letting Spencer take control and do whatever he needs to do with you for the rest of the night. 

-X-

[pearl-nouveau]

A Woman's Purpose - Cregan Stark x Reader [chapter one]

summary: Your mother, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, has always prepared you to marry and you have always resisted, terrified that you will only ever be seen as a wife. But your heart is torn when love catches you by surprise.

contains: mentions of self-harm, aged-up characters (Jace is ~19 idk)

a/n: wow i have not posted on this blog in YEARS but i lurk in tumblr reader insert oneshots like it's my part-time job, and i wrote this on AO3 so i decided to post here and hopefully get some love. i really love posting my writing even if it is not perfect, it's just a passion. let me know if i should post the second chapter and my asks are always open! xx - pearl🦪

Beauty is power, my mother used to tell me, stroking my silver hair as if it were made of golden thread. She loved my hair. Use your beauty to set yourself free. I had no idea if she meant for her words to bring some kind of comfort to me - they did not. 

Sometimes, I hated her for bringing me into the world altogether. While Jace and Luke envied my resemblance to our mother, I detested sharing her light hair and lilac eyes. It seemed to me a symbol of my imprisonment - it became clear to me, hearing all this talk of my beauty and nothing else, that I was never to be loved or seen for anything else.

In my youth, the abstract concept of my fertility and status made me a formidable form of currency within the royal family. Jacaerys, older by one year, made his way as heir by training in combat and dragonriding and studying the history of Westeros and Old Valeria - I, however, was confined to studying the family trees of the realm's powerful houses, to perform the perfect Velaryon princess and eventually be bred like a cow.

I hated my life. 

Many attempts were made to rebel against my predetermined future. At ten and two I sliced all the hair from my head, leaving a shaggy, uneven mess of shimmering half-bald patches that took years to grow back. I had never seen my mother so angry until at ten and four I began slicing patterns into my arms and legs to scar the perfect pale skin everyone complimented me on. Soon she required a chaperone with me at all times, which only made me more furious, and I began picking fights with my cuntish uncles and coming back from dragon rides inexplicably soaking or covered in soot. I waited for my mother to attempt to put together the puzzle I had laid out in front of her; to figure me out and decide that her daughter - the strong-willed, intelligent, adventurous one - matters more than the empty shell of a married woman that I will surely become. 

At the very least, my mother allowed me the power to turn away whomever I wished. It seemed she hoped I would find someone who struck my fancy. But as time passed and my antics worsened, her grip on me tightened, and I began to fear the wost: an impending betrothal. 

She frequently asked me to rack my brain and think of any previous men she had introduced me to who I may want to explore further. But I was stubborn. I maintained that no one had caught my eye, and I insisted that I would never marry. Whenever I said such things, my mother would frown at me in a way that hurt my heart. She was my greatest antagonist, but I loved her, and I knew that it saddened her to put me through such pain. 

Even if there was one man who never left an impression on me, whose memory kept me awake in the darkness of night, I would never tell my mother. It was too humiliating after so many years of fighting marriage to be seduced by love.

Every so often I allowed myself to think about him before I went to sleep, to be swept up in the beautiful dream of someone's arms around me. I could imagine him saying to me, I choose you. That was what I always dreamt of hearing. I choose you, as you are. Just you. 

Jacaerys tried to sympathize with me but he would never truly understand. He did allow me to partake in his own pastimes to grant me a change of scenery from the walls of King's Landing. 

"It infuriates me that she herself is allowed to break barriers as heir to the Iron Throne and I must remain shackled to tradition," I complained to Jace as we sparred in a remote corner of the keep. "She gets to be immortalized as the first of her name while subjecting me to a loveless marriage."

"She was in an arranged marriage with our father." Jace pointed out, sending a particularly hard offensive move my way. I easily thwarted it. 

"Well..." I trailed off. There was nothing to say, not in words, about our parents, or our parentage. It was an unspoken issue, even between Jacaerys and I who were nearly as close as twins. We supposed it would always be shrouded in mystery. We were prepared to always wonder. It seemed unthinkable to ask our mother any questions, nor our father, nor... 

Strong boys, they said. 

Perhaps Jace and I wouldn't speak of it because our difference in hair color had always been a sore subject. I was broken out of my thoughts by another offensive move, this one catching me by surprise. I stumbled back but recovered, moving around the side of my brother as he laughed at me in the way only an older brother would. 

"I'll get you back for that," I snapped at him, but grinned. He smiled back, shrugging cockily. Bring it on, his eyes told me. 

We sparred a bit more until our breaths were heavy in our throats and our swings became more jests than challenges. Eventually, he tossed his sword on the ground and fell upon a sack of grain. I sat next to him and for a moment we were not prince nor princess. We were just two siblings. I sighed, knowing it wouldn't last for long. 

Jace seemed to decide to bank on the moment as well because he looked to me and spoke. "Was there really never anyone who caught your eye? Not in all those years of meeting suitors?" He thought for a moment. "There were some good ones."

"Some good ones?" I scoffed. "Who, pray tell?" 

After a few moments of consideration, he began to chuckle and I rolled my eyes. The chuckle became a cackle and at this joke, I did not laugh along. We both knew that most of the options I had been presented with were vapid, shortsighted, insecure children, as were most men.

I was about to hit him to shut him up when he stopped suddenly and his face brightened with realization. 

"I know a good one," Jace said, "Cregan Stark."

A flush crossed my face at the name.

Usually, I only allowed that name to cross my mind in the darkness of night, but Jace had disrupted that routine. "What about him?" I tried to ask innocently. This time my brother was the one to roll his eyes at me. 

"Don't play the fool, sister," he teased, "when he came to visit those years ago everyone could see that you both took a liking to each other. Even you couldn't fight him." He nudged me playfully with his elbow. "He fights like a Northerner, and he wanted to fight for you."

"Oh, hush."

"Why did you ever turn him away anyways?"

His question silenced me. It was a painful memory. Cregan had come to treat with my grandsire and pledge his support as Warden of the North, and in those two moons he stayed at King's Landing we came to know each other well. Perhaps the reason why I had opened myself to getting to know him was because he had not come for the intention of courting me. In fact, I found him wonderfully ignorant about the social politics of the royal family, and he did not know of my existence upon his arrival. 

The day we met, I was in the Godswood with a book and a porcelain cup of candied almonds. A midnight blue veil covered my thigh-length silver hair. I hated my hair, and I hated that my mother would not let me cut it. I refused to have it braided and let it fall unbrushed and wild down my back.

He had come into the courtyard without noticing me tangled in the roots of the tree. He came closer to examine the trunk thoughtfully, allowing me a glimpse of his face through the branches. I had heard of his arrival and listened from behind closed doors at their meeting, intrigued by his deep voice and foreign accent. I listened intently as he spoke a prayer in a hushed tone. All of a sudden, his gaze shifted to meet mine between the leaves as if he had known I was there the whole time. 

"Apologies, my lady," he bowed his head slightly. "I did not know the Godswood was occupied."

"There is room enough for two," I said shyly. I was not accustomed to being pleasant towards men. I was known for being a beautiful devil, a menace with a sour tongue. It made me self-conscious to think that I was changing my behavior for a man. But I was merely matching his politeness; and he had no reason to falsify his kindness, since he had no idea who I was. 

Luckily for me, I had no reason to overthink my words because he went silent for a long while, lost in a wordless prayer. After a quarter of an hour had passed, he came closer to me, and gestured to the root beside me. 

"Do you mind if I sit?" He had asked.

I shook my head and he moved his thick cloak to drop down beside me. 

"Pardon my intrusion, my lady, I find myself feeling lonely when I come to the South. The Godswood calms me."

"I understand, Lord Stark."

His eyebrow quirked. "You know who I am?"

"I'm afraid I do." I smiled. I loved having the upper hand. I decided I wouldn't tell him who I was. 

"What is your role here in the castle, my lady?" 

"To please lords like you." I jested. Cregan leaned back slightly, taken aback. I quickly realized the suggestive wording of my joke. "Not like that," I quickly corrected, "I was just... I mean-"

"I know who you are, princess." He chuckled at me. I was glad to be rescued from the embarrassment of my failed joke. I gazed at him questioningly. He leaned forward and gently removed the veil from my head. "Unfortunately your appearance does not allow you anonymity." 

I blushed. "What have you heard about me?" 

"Nothing, I admit, until your grandsire told me about you today. He told me of your age, not many years my junior, and I supposed-"

"- That I might make a fine breeder for you?" I snapped. There went the illusion of politeness. This was where they usually ran, when I became a beast instead of a beauty. A piece of work not worth the effort. 

Instead, Cregan merely chuckled. "Actually, I sought a companion. A friend. Being here is lonely for me, and I thought you might show me what life in King's Landing is like. If I am to swear fealty to your family, I seek to know your customs. Your mother has told me that you are the most well-acquainted with the keep of her children." 

You smiled. Had your mother truly said that? It was true, since you spent so much time darting around the palace avoiding her orders. 

"Would you mind giving me a tour?" He asked. His tone was so gentle, so uncomplicated. It was like no man had ever spoken to me before. With respect, as if he were speaking to a friend. It was refreshing.

For the next few weeks, Cregan and I formed a friendship based on mutual respect. He informed me of Northern politics and asked for my opinions on complicated political matters through a Southern perspective. I introduced him to my dragon, Vermithor. Afternoons were spent in the Godswood picnicking for the purpose of introducing him to local cuisine, and evenings were spent in the library discussing literature. The relationship felt as easy as breathing to me, and I could tell he felt the same. After close to two moons, it had begun to frighten me how much I longed for his presence when we separated at the end of the day. 

There had always been a tangible tension between us that toed the line between friendship and romance. Lingering gazes, intentional touches, and meaningful words kept me up at night. He opened up to me about the unique grief of losing his wife in childbirth and having to leave his infant son at home so soon afterward. I showed him the scars littered across my body, and explained to him how I hated my beauty.

He had taken my head in his hands and looked through my soul with those gray eyes. 

"Your beauty... It is just a fraction of you. What is truly incredible is your kind heart, your wit, your intelligence, your soul..."

I had been unable in that moment to keep myself from kissing him, so I let my mind empty and I surged forward to connect our lips. He responded with fervor, bringing me close, the pads of his thumbs barely grazing the peach fuzz on my cheek. I could not even bring myself to feel ashamed about grabbing his tunic underneath his cloak, my fingers unknowing but desperate. He had taken my hands and pulled back, only to kiss my nose, then brow, then the corners of each eyes, and then my knuckles. 

Suddenly I came too. I saw in front of me the path that had been laid for me - a wife, be it to a good man or a bad one. I was still determined not to let that happen. 

As I often did, I had fled. I had avoided him until he went back to Winterfell. Two moons later, a raven came from him. I didn't dare open it, too afraid to face my actions. Even if I felt that I knew what the contents were, Cregan was not like other men I knew - thus I had always wondered what the letter said. I wondered if it was true that he truly cared for me and saw who I was inside. The thought made me realize that even I myself did not know what path may be laid in front of me. My feelings confused me, and I decided to shut the Lord of Winterfell out of my mind forever.

Except on some dark nights. 

And except for now, when Jacaerys prods my arm and awaits the answer to his question. I realized I must have been silent for a long time as his voice began to register in my head. 

"Lost in thought?" 

"Ha-ha," I shoved him back. "Sort of." 

Jace's face became serious. "I was only jesting, but perhaps I shouldn't have brought it up. I know you truly did care for him."

"How could you tell?" I asked, genuine curiosity lacing my tone. It was past the point where it was worth feeling awkward about the truth of my feelings. I was only human, after all. 

"He was kind to everybody, but especially to you." Jace pursed his lips in thought. "Although at the same time, he does not treat you like you're soft. It was like he loved hearing you speak. Like your word was God."

I smiled. 

Jace nudged me. "And... he looked at you like you hung the damn sun in the sky."

My heart skipped a beat hearing that. I knew it was true, but I was used to people looking at me in awe. As if I were a ball of light floating in front of them, ethereal, untouchable. Cregan was not afraid to see through me, to touch me. He made me feel held.

Emotion overcame me in that moment. I quickly scrambled up from the bag of grain Jace and I were lounging on, grasping my sword and tossing my hair over my shoulder. 

"Well, it's too late now," I quickly said, "He's in Winterfell and it does not matter if he cares for me or not, I do not want the life of a housewife."

Jace stood. "Who says that getting married means you'll become a housewife? You'll be a lady, you could do whatever you please." 

"It isn't just the marriage, it's the principle of it!" I cried, moving away from him towards the main training yard. "As soon as I take those vows, it means my purpose is only to bear children." As we entered the larger courtyard and grew closer to other people, he grasped my arm and spoke to me in a lowered voice. 

"I know you think I do not understand, but I am soon to be betrothed as well, likely to someone I will never love."

"Well, at the end of the line, you have a throne." I spit at him, spinning on my heel and leaving him staring helplessly after me. 

[fishnapple]

Channelled message: Things they wish to tell you (lover/partner/future spouse)

This reading is about things that the person you have in mind wishes to tell you but find it hard to do so. I don't know why, but the tone of this reading sounded so angsty. I had to fought back the urge to comment on every sentence as I was typing.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (Read this post : personal reading)

1. Amethyst

I feel like a kid whenever I'm near you. It's hard to hide, I feel so vulnerable. You stripped me of my armour. You made me afraid but I liked it. I want to tell you that you can strip whatever is left of me, and I will be willing to stand there and let you do it.

But before that, you have to catch me. I like the game of hide and seek, running and chasing. Every time I had to chase you, every time you had to chase me, it gave me the satisfaction that I'm not proud to tell you. Don't give me that look, you and I both know that whatever game we are playing, in the end, the loser gets to win, the winner gets to lose. You know you can catch me, because I let you.

I love whispering things into those pretty ears of yours. Feel them so close that my lips can almost touch your skin. Sometimes you will laugh, sometimes you will stay silent, your skin getting more red, sometimes you will turn around and let your lips touch mine. Your reactions are my goal and I'm an over-achiever.

Teetering between pure love and pure lust, what to choose? Sometimes we are so close to being enemies to each other, then we fall over into lovers. I don't know how we do it but I like to keep it a little ambiguous. The suspension, the uncertainty, those uncomfortable feelings make me feel alive.

Not to mention that people are so confused about us. I bet they can sense something between us, those flustered looks, those closer than necessary touches, those innocent exchanges. They can guess but they will never know the depth of our connection.

I actually love the feeling of sitting on the couch, waiting for you to come home to me. Once we've built our nest, I don't want to leave it. I don't want you to leave either. But I know your free spirit well enough not to tell you my wish. But you can't blame me if sometimes I use some "tactics" to entice you to stay with me. Hey, I can hear your snicker. You think someone like me saying this kind of thing is probably lying. Well, I do lie, but about the opposite thing, I lie to the world that I'm not a home-body, that my life is a constant motion, moving here and there, that I'm someone who always takes charge. My lies will be so convincing that they can even fool you. Yes, I know I like to change things, but look closer, you will find something that stays the same no matter what. I hope you won't give up finding it because I won't make it easy for you to find it. But I know you like a good challenge.

2. Rose quartz

I have so many things I wanted to tell you, but the moment those words arrived at the tip of my tongue, they took a U turn and went back. I don't know why I like to betray myself like that.

I would tell you how this ice cream tastes good, but all I could think about is your taste. I would tell you I like the feeling of warmth when sitting near the fire, but all I could feel is your heat. Same old stuff, same old stories, same old jokes, repeated again and again. What am I trying to hide? Why can't I just say what I want? What am I so afraid of?

I feel like a yellow rubber duck, floating forever on the surface, can't never get deep enough. Well, at least I get to be with you in the bathtub, not complaining. Here I go again, using light words to camouflage my feelings and desire for you. I don't want to be a tease, I want to be an arrow, striking its target at lightning speed.

Use your finger and sink this duck down into the water, and keep it that way. Hold me down, keep me still, until I'm drown in you.

Giving and taking, holding and embracing, I want it all, I don't want a single experience to slip through my fingers, I want to salvage everything, to savour slowly then to devour swiftly.

I want you to be the cold, harsh truth to my soft lies. The punishing force to my innocent crimes. But I also want you to be the embrace that I can fall into, the laughter I long to hear in my darkening days. Greedy, I know. And you can be greedy with me too. You ask and I will give.

Will you say no to my dreams, saying they're just pipe dreams, forever should be in the land of the unreal. Or will you say yes and applaud them? I know I can make them real, I know I can turn my thoughts into things that others can see and feel. I have faith. I just want you to have that same faith with me. Wouldn't it be nicer to have two who dream the same dreams? And nicer still when those two can create something together. I suggest a family, kids, pets, just a few examples.

I wish to take you everywhere, to meet everyone I know and everyone I haven't known. The feeling of a community, of connections always warm my heart. I hope you understand that. But it's okay if you don't, because there are probably lots of things I don't understand about you either. And let's keep it that way.

3. Tiger's eye

I have so many plans for our future. Since the first time when I met you, probably in some corners of my mind, I've been drawing up our plan together, our imaginary home, our imaginary kids, even our imaginary pets.

Talk to me, tell me your own delusions, give me more fuel, rile up my imagination. Delusions create the world. Or so they say, or so I say. Doesn't matter. Because I'm actually nurturing these delusions of mine into reality. Just so you wait and don't act surprised when they do come true. I have the divine on my side. You can't beat it, I can't beat it. And believe me, I've tried.

I've tried to go against the nudges, the little push behind my back so many times. It usually didn't end well. I still found myself in the exact place that I needed to be, whether I wanted to or not.

Please don't misunderstand, I'm not saying this to tell you that being with you is against my will or I want to fight back our connection. I just want to explain the way I do things in general. I do bizarre things, say bizarre things sometimes, a lot of times, actually. You would think these are all jokes. They are. When you're viewed as a weirdo, it actually gives you lots of freedom to do things your way without people exclaiming disappointment or shock. What's there to be shocked and disappointed if they already viewed you as someone capable of everything, even unhinged things. This is the way I deal with the world. Quickly, so they will be out of my sight and let me focus on other important things.

For example, you, the sight of you, up close, inching ever closer, faraway, walking away but never be out of my sight. Curate an art exhibition for me. With pieces of art showing your myriad expression and sounds. Showing you in different clothes or without. I'd love to just stand there to watch and listen. Then, when I'm brave enough, I will be an art thief.

4. Carnelian

Let me tell you upfront, I'm not the kind to forgive easily. And I know with each pain I'm getting, I'm also dissing out more pain towards others and myself.

I get easily obsessed about everything, good or bad, mostly bad things. They've burnt a piece of me. I've been betrayed in the past. So many betrayals that made me angry towards the world, towards myself. I just wanted to go away. No, not to hide, but to gather my strength again and come back and confront. I used to be the one that is caught in other's claws, now I know how to catch them in my claws.

But this kind of behaviour ruined my soul. I want to sweep away all these pains and anger, to lighten my existence. It's almost a wish that I've been keeping to myself for all this time. And now you know about it too. And I'm glad that you can help me make it come true. Pull me out of this destructive cycle. Help me breathe and look for the light.

I say hurtful things sometimes, you probably will fall victim to that some day and I want to ask for your forgiveness beforehand. I let my pride get in my way a lot of times. To prove my point, to prove my worth, to prove that I'm strong, that you can't hurt me. But you can, you just choose not to. I know I'm at your mercy. This makes me uncomfortable, but it's actually not so bad. I'm getting used to it. Thanks to your humour and gentle touches. For every hurtful word of mine, you replaced it with your kiss. If I ask you to cry for my pain, will you do it, in my stead?

You sure know how to tame me, or just anyone ever met you feel the same way? Stop, I won't let myself go into that direction of thinking. Let's just focus on us. Teach me how to dismantle someone's defence like you did to me, step by step. Just so I can understand what's being done to me. I want to know everything, grab everything in my hands to understand it.

Don't worry, I won't do it to you, because you will come to me defenceless. Is that how you will win? Will I take all I can and leave you with nothing, or will I give you all and be a part of it? You decide.

Note: I usually pull one oracle card to read their energy better. With this group, three cards wanted to come out. I looked at the cards, the fish, the bear and the scorpion, then tried to put them back because that's too many. Right at the moment I put them back into the deck, I felt a sharp pain in my rib-cage for a split second, so I decided to put the three cards down and read them for this group. And guess what, a part of the stone layout does resemble the scorpion's tail.

5. Aventurine

I'm putting my best behaviour for the world to see, for you to see too. In this world of everyone fighting to get to the top, I just want to honour a softer energy. To nurture and harmonise everything, everyone. But I pursue that desire with the mentality of a soldier, a worker, diligently getting closer to my goal every day. I don't know how to do this, to be honest, I'm properly doing it wrong. Shall I just agree with everything to keep the peace, or shall I fight back?. Is it possible to honour something that I don't understand?

I have a dilemma of being a little people-pleasing. I like to hide and push my individuality to the back. Let my own compass take a back seat while letting others dictate what's good for me. I can't deny that a part of me wish for this. To let others lead me and I will do what was told. And I just want to trust you with that responsibility, putting myself into your hands.

The only thing I want to control is how I do things, those small details to get the job done. I guess I'm just overwhelmed by the large responsibility of life that I fuss about the details. When can I stop putting my mental energy into banal things and think about the bigger picture? Will I ever meet my calling, my destination?

But good news, I'm learning. Those days that I hid in my house, alone, probably did me some good. I'm learning to be with myself. So that I can be with others. You will get an early access, of course, with special service.

I'm glad that I can feel safe with you, enough to whisper in low voice about my spiritual belief. It's always there, with me, protecting me. The last thing I want is to be called strange. Especially from you, and lucky for me, you won't. You will never do that to me, that's your kindness. To other people, they can see me getting upset at our carpet being spoiled by coffee. They probably will think that I was upset because of the cost of getting it cleaned, the ruined aesthetic. But to you, you will understand the reason immediately. You will know that I believe a spirit lives in that carpet and spilling the coffee will hurt them. Keep it a secret for me, okay? Pinky promise.

6. Prehnite

The first time that we met wasn't the first time I saw you. I had seen you ways before that. I just needed time to build my strategy, to infiltrate into your life as smoothly as possible.

I was patient, time was on my side. There is no need to rush. You had your guard up and I didn't want to scare you away. Heck, I sound like a predator, circling its prey. Or maybe I was? You tell me.

But I do know that you didn't make it easy for me to approach you. I have to confess, I almost gave up. I have a habit of letting go too early. A sign of things derailing, then I will be up and going. I couldn't be bogged down by anything, or so I thought. Love was never the end goal for me. It was just a side effect. Even lust had not much meaning to me. I just sped up ahead, leaving them behind. I was pursuing total freedom. I viewed everything as an object to be studied, to extract information from, to help build my personal library. I basically lived in my head.

What's mysterious force that kept my patient in pursuing you, I don't know. Maybe you are the biggest mystery that I've yet to solve. And that thought was the beginning of my demise. At least, my old self's demise. I'm enjoying myself right now, with you.

But you also didn't make it easier when we're together. What are you? Divine punishment? It's not like I have the option to pack by bags and go back to my old way again. I've already burned the bridge leading to it. No coming back now.

You push me to the edge, and I will pull your hand with me. Let's fall together then soaring up again. When our wings are tired and broken, plunge me back to the depth, and I will show you how enticing it is to be with me down below. You're afraid, but you're also brave. I won't do something that I know you can't do or don't want to do. That's our unspoken oath.

[steviewashere]

Working It Out

Rating: General CW: Implied/Referenced Depression Tags: Post-Canon, Future Fic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Rockstar Eddie Munson, Teacher Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Sad Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Hinted Breakup Conversation, But They Work It Out, Difficult Conversations, Talking Through Feelings, Soft Eddie Munson, Discussion of Future For @steddieangstyaugust Day 31 Prompt: "I'm not going to beg you to love me."

🎸——————🎸 Steve is happy for Eddie. Really, he is. Has the whole rockstar thing figured out. On the cover of Rolling Stone, booking late night slots on television, getting recognized in public spaces, and selling out stadiums. It’s the life he’s always dreamed of. It’s what he’s wanted since he was little.

So why can’t he be happy, too?

He thought that, by now, he’d have some part of his life figured out. Now that he’s entered his thirties. That he’s got some sort of college degree. A reasonable resume. The social connections needed to climb certain ladders. Yet, he’s not satisfied. Not pleased the way Eddie is.

The house they have is…too much. Lavish and big and bright. Hard earned, but hardly comfortable. It’s not cluttered like the Munson’s trailer was, it’s not warm and welcoming and the definition of pure and utter comfort. That was home, to Steve at least. It was a change of pace from the house he grew up in—alone and scared and desperate for attention he couldn’t find, instead sprawling between empty rooms that had too many windows and cleaning a pool too big for one person. This new house he now resides in is just that. A house.

By now, he thought that he’d be happy. That he’d be waking up refreshed and ready to greet each morning. That he’d be fine talking to Eddie over the phone, waiting around for those late night rings, trying to catch all the messy postcards in the mail. The postcards that come in random intervals and never actually reflect where Eddie is. It makes Steve anxious that he can’t pinpoint where Eddie is most of the time—left to bite his fingernails until he hears Eddie’s voice, and even then…sometimes he’ll call and won’t get an answer. And it’s no use to leave a message, it’ll be a hotel staff member or a person that’s now paying for the room.

All he does is wait and sleep and eat expensive food. He twiddles his thumbs. He’ll take a car to work, met with the smiling faces of herds of kids he teaches, and then he takes the silent drive home. Where he sits on an uncomfortable leather couch, satin pajamas that replaced old sweatpants a few years ago, staring off into nothingness that’s as ice cold as his chest feels.

He hates the waiting around, though.

Sometimes, he just wants to get up and leave. Search for something else.

But he loves Eddie too much, he knows. He’s not going to do that.

——— The front door opens and the thud of suitcases is heard. Steve leaves their bedroom, red eyed and face puffy. Wipes his nose on the sleeve of his pajama shirt, hands shaking with relief. Relief and anxiety and desperation and…terrible longing.

“Stevie!” Eddie crows, greeting. Arms open wide. Whip-wild smile on his face, eyes big, unshaven jaw. His hair is thrown up into a ponytail, bouncing with his boisterous immediate attitude. “Baby, baby…I have so many stories to tell you. It’s been such a good tour! I can’t”—he stops himself abruptly, arms falling back down at his sides. His voice that was previously so loud, echoing to their high ceilings, now softens. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Did…did something happen?”

Steve shakes his head. No, he thinks, it’s not Vecna. It’s not the Upside Down. It’s just me.

He takes a step forward, then several, and the last couple until he’s five feet in front of Eddie. Oddly, he feels small. Like the kid that greeted his parents when they came home from long business trips, already angry, already disappointed. He wants to curl up into a ball and keep crying, never admitting out loud what’s wrong. Feels that innate, incredibly deep urge to climb out one of the many windows and just run away. Like he tried to do so much when he was younger, heavy lopsided backpack on his little body, discarding letters of anger under his parents’ door so they’ll know he’s gone, and his mind set on a friend’s house—typically Tommy. Sometimes Carol.

But his friend that he’d go to now, Robin, she’s several state lines over. He can’t just up and leave now. He can’t just pack up his car and go. Eddie’s money is Eddie’s money. And even though they made an agreement that the cash is shared, it still would feel wrong to take some of it just to…abandon all that he has now. Which would probably include Eddie. And he doesn’t want to think of that.

His chest is concave and heavy, yet empty—hollow. Like it’s been for months. For years at this point. He takes a deep breath, ignoring how it shutters through him, makes him half-form a hiccup in the back of his throat. “I’m not…happy, Eds,” he admits in a whisper.

Eddie’s eyebrows raise slightly. Eyes growing bigger and concerned. The corners of his mouth pulling down. “How so, sweetheart?”

Steve can’t look him in the eyes. Looking at the floor below his bare feet. The cold hardwood that resembles too much of his parents’ house. He takes another steady-ish breath, almost gasping with it. Rubs his hands together below his stomach, like a nervous kid about to be caught.

“I hate it here,” he chooses to start. “I hate this house. I hate the way it echoes when I talk into it sometimes. I hate having to…” Steve looks up to Eddie. Merely avoiding his eyes, focused on the tip of his nose instead. “…I hate trying to figure out where you are because sometimes you won’t answer the phone, or maybe the postcard you sent doesn’t come in time. I hate that I even have to call you to figure out how you’re doing. 

“I can’t just turn over in bed and ask you how your day was. I can’t look you in the eyes when I talk to you because you just aren’t there. I’m so lonely, Eddie. I’m so…I feel just so…Empty.”

What follows that is a tense silence that even the sharpest of knives wouldn’t be able to cut. He doesn’t think flames would melt the tension. Nothing could get through it.

“You’re not happy…because of my work?”

He didn’t say that exactly, but it feels like the truth. Steve nods. “I’m happy for you,” he says, “I am. But your dream isn’t my dream. I honestly don’t even know what I want out of life, but I know this isn’t it.

“I’m just so tired of waiting around. Makes me feel like I’m waiting up for my parents to come home. And you know how that was. You know how I felt being there. Like I had to earn their attention, their love…whatever.” He shifts from side to side, still nervous and stomach turning. His eyes ache from drying out after all the crying earlier. He never thought that being honest would hurt so much. Steve swallows hard. Softly, he confesses, “I’m not going to beg you to love me. I don’t want to do that. But I don’t want to live like this either.” He looks back into Eddie’s eyes, finally. Met with the same miserableness that’s twisting inside of him. It makes his heart drop to his stomach. “So, if me being…if my current feelings get in the way of your dreams, I think we better…y’know.��

Steve doesn’t know, not really. Isn’t sure where he’d go right now. If all of this just falls through. He’d probably have to relocate his job, and he doesn’t want to say goodbye to his class of kids. Maybe he should’ve just waited for all of this to go down.

Instead, he’s met with a soft touch to the small of his back. Eddie leads them into their too spacious living room, on that uncomfortable leather couch, huddling in close to one another.

“Stevie,” Eddie whispers, “look at me, please.”

Hesitantly, he does.

“There you are,” Eddie coos. Soft hands envelop Steve’s right. Thumbs working into the hard points of his knuckles, nails gently tracing over old scars. “Baby,” he speaks softly, “I want to first of all say, thank you for telling me how you’re feeling. Okay? I like knowing things like this, sweetheart. Where you’re at in your head. Where you’re at with our everything. And I need you to know that none of what you said affects our relationship. None of it. If anything, it makes me understand you more. Makes me realize what isn’t working for us.

“But you are my first priority, always. Always, Steve,” he speaks firmly. “And I have to be honest here, too. I’m starting to hate the work that I do. I love creating music, I love working with smaller artists, I like getting out and seeing the world. But I hate doing it all the time. I hate that our days out sometimes gets interrupted by people on the street, or paparazzi cameras in our face. I hate that when we call, you sound so fucking tired from your day at work, waiting for me to answer the phone. I hate that I can’t get mail back from you, already gone before it’d come in the mail.

“I hate this house, I do. Even if we’ve had our fun with it”—he wiggles his eyebrows at that, eliciting a tiny snort from Steve—“it’s too big, you’re right. It’s uncomfortable to me, I gotta be honest. This couch we’re sitting on is fucking ugly and really trashy, even if it cost a pretty fucking penny. None of this us, I see that especially now.”

Steve sucks in a slow breath through his nose. Murmurs, “What are you getting at, Eds?”

Eddie brings up his left hand to Steve’s right cheek, gently cradling it in his palm. Thumb swiping reverently on the dried tear tracks there, the sticky hot skin. “I spoke with the band. With my agent. Told ‘em that this was my final tour. That I quit,” he confesses quietly, “that I’m going to sell this stupid fucking house. Move somewhere more remote, smaller, homelier. Somewhere we can be close to our real family, our friends. Maybe even somewhere we can get married one day. I told ‘em, loud and clear, that I’ve got love waiting for me back home that I know for certain I’m not going to find anywhere else.

“Being in love with you, Steve, has been more of an accomplishment, a brighter dream, and a fucking blessing compared to my first dream. You are why I keep going most days. And I don’t want to lose you over something we’ve both come to hate.”

He blinks at Eddie. Blinks and blinks and blinks. “You want to leave it all behind? Just to be here with me? Babe, that’s…that’s kind of insane, you know that?”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie hums. Eyes giddy and warm. “Guess you could say I’m crazy in love with you, sweetheart. I’d rather be with you. I’d rather stay in a home we put together with our hands rather than picking from some stupid catalogue. I’d rather water our plants while you make a classroom of kids smile. I’d rather greet you at the door, kiss on the cheek, taking your briefcase, ready to make us some warm dinner so that we can watch trashy television shows in our underwear, kiss until we’re fucking gasping, and then be able to wrap myself around you in our bed. Every fucking night. That sounds like more of a dream come true than anything.”

“You’d really leave it all behind, though? Just to be with me?”

Eddie rolls his eyes playfully. “Yes,” he swears. “Yes, sweetheart. A million times—yes! If I have to tell you every day that you’re worth staying for, then so be it. But you’re worth everything, you’re worth more than any riches I make from this crummy career.”

Steve squeezes Eddie’s other hand still wrapped around his. “Okay,” he whispers. 

He lets Eddie dote on him, soft and sweet and languid.

And later that night, wrapped around each other in bed, Eddie stroking the bridge of Steve’s nose, Steve’s fingers working circles into Eddie’s hip—they’re content.

“Can we get a dog in our new home?” Steve asks.

Jokingly, Eddie murmurs, “Now you’re asking too much.” He boops the tip of Steve’s nose. But there’s a big, foolish grin on his face. Eyes too soft to mean anything malicious. “I’m kidding, sweetheart. Maybe we’ll go to the humane society in the morning?”

Steve, for the first time in a long while, smiles. “Sounds like a plan, Eds. I love you.”

“Sweetheart, I love you until the universe fucking explodes. And then some.”

🎸——————🎸

[glossysoap]

boundaries post. mostly regarding anons i’ve gotten regarding the following topics, who brought up their disdain towards how long i take with requests. though this was made with those anons in mind, i’m posting this as a full fledged boundary post because i don’t know who’s behind the anons. hopefully this works as a rent lowering post towards anyone who may have sent it. followers or mutuals (god forbid, but just in case) or otherwise.

(no, i’m not making problems up. i’ve gotten anons dogging me for not writing “proper responses” to asks - meaning, my answers to those asks weren’t full fledged smuts written in response to whatever ask was sent to me. in addition, i’ve gotten asks fat shaming me in relation to how long i take. what correlation there is between my weight and how long i take to write, i’ll never know.)

- my asks will be turned off for the foreseeable future, if not permanently altogether. at the very least until i catch up with current requests and make headway on my wips. my dms will continue to be open as always just in case anyone needs a shoulder.

the pressure of having requests sent in even when my ask box has said “requests closed” for the better part of a year, has greatly affected my mental health. call me a crybaby or whatever you want, i don’t care. but not being able to fulfill requests in a timely manner makes me feel like a shitty writer/blogger/person and friend etc etc.

which in turn makes me depressed whenever i come on here or try and work on any requests because my head just goes “oh, you take so long, you’re so lazy.”

in addition to feeling pressured from it (which i know, is stemming from my own perfectionism and anxiety), it just makes me feel like those anons i’ve gotten about it are right - the anons dogging me for taking so long. “are you too busy eating to write” etc etc.

- piggybacking off the previous point. i can’t guarantee that i’ll always feel motivated or inspired enough to respond with a full fledged smut in response to stuff that is sent to me. sometimes all i have steam for is a keyboard smash and reaction pics. please be okay with a laid back answer of keyboard smashing and reaction pics.

- if me answering things like that ^ from now on makes you upset in any way - feel free to just unfollow or block. it’ll be better for both of us.

i will try to finish requests that i currently have.

[yandere-kokeshi]

Simon, König, and Soap with a gn darling who’s taller

Warnings: yandere behavior, and slight nsfw mention

A/N: This is day one of posting head canons every day :). Enjoy <3!

Simon “Ghost” Riley: 

Doesn’t really bother him — gives 0 fucks, because height is height. Though, he’s a bit relieved he doesn’t have to worry about neck and back pain whilst trying to kiss you if you were shorter. 

Will laugh straight-up if you knock your forehead on the door frame or accidentally hit yourself with the shower head; but, he’s nice enough to fix it, making sure it actually doesn’t hurt you for future uses. 

Will throw some shitty or cliché jokes, but often reminds you to duck or watch out for ceiling fans. 

Loves to be a small spoon, or simply put his head into the place where your neck and shoulder meet. Feels more secure, especially since your arms are likely longer and bigger. Although, don’t think you can tease him, cause if you do, hickeys and rough hands will soon appear on your skin. 

By chance, you’re wearing a collar shirt or any loose clothing, Simon will yank it down, making you come to his level and kiss you very intensely — clearly craving more than a sly kiss. 

If you try to pick him up, it’ll likely end with him using his commanding voice, moving on getting out of your arms but quickly accepts his fate; his lower body hanging around like a Maine Coon being picked up by a literal child. 

König:

It’s perfect, really. Most people are naturally shorter than him, and he likes to use his height to intimidate people. And the fact you’re taller, the power you hold, is unholy.

Though, he slightly does get a bit flushed. You practically tower over him, and he’s often the one to do so. The height difference messes with his head, mentally and physically. With this said, his eyes, and pupils, are shaped hearts whenever he looks at you. 

Bear hugs to its max. Wherever you are, he’s behind you, rubbing his face into your clothes as he asks about your day – not letting you go until you ask him ‘nicely’. 

Really enjoy sitting on your lap, regardless of your gender. Working at a desk for work? He’s asking very nicely. In the living room, watching TV while you eat? He’s doing the same thing but only on your lap. 

Definitely asks you to get things out of reach for him (that he specifically put up because he wants your attention), and hugs you from behind. König, effectively, is trying to hide the obvious tent he has. But, you won’t ignore him, right? Of course, you won’t. 

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:

Digs that you’re taller than he. Much like Simon, height is something that’s natural, and he doesn’t care. But you, being taller than him, does things with his head. 

Really tries his hardest to get piggyback rides or be picked up in any way. Sometimes, usually when he comes home from missions, jumps on your back, resulting in both of you falling to the floor.

Soap really enjoys being the small spoon, especially when he’s on top of you, laying on your chest and rubbing his face in your neck. Sometimes, Johnny likes to be the big spoon (or try too). He lays behind you like a koala holding on their parents for dear life. 

Shitty pick-up lines all the time: “I’m surprised you didn’t find me on a stepladder,” – “Aye, the air up there must suck, yeah? Why not come down and catch your breath on my lap?” 

Will share his clothes with you and vice versa — your closet is now his. Hoodies, jackets, even baggy pants are now sharing with him. However, Johnny does love seeing you wear his own; the tightness curving your body. 

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[celestie0]

kickoff! reader who is stalking gojos page and accidentally likes one of his oldest posts. she panics and turns off her phone, without unliking it.

kickoff!gojo who is re reading your guys instagram messages and you text him while he’s doing this. he scrambles to come up with a reason as to why he read your message instantly

kickoff! reader who tries to watch soccer games to understand what’s happening. she probably yells offsides at everything. gojo can only smile at her and offer to help her out

kickoff! gojo who takes a picture of your silhouette in front of those statues you meet up at during the sunset (without your knowledge) and makes it his lock screen. you ask him about it but he just pretends that it’s a soccer goal and the sunset behind it.

kickoff! reader who finds herself thinking of satoru way too much. will see basically anything and be reminded of him. “oh a pair of sunglasses? gojo would like those” “hm, they started selling a strawberry tea? gojo would drink that”

kickoff! gojo who loves the sims. unironically makes a sim version of him and reader. tbh he probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, he just starts thinking about reader and starts adding her features. thinks it’s funny to make them have “fun time”

kickoff! reader who is looking through the game pictures she takes and finds herself staring at gojo. doesn’t even realize she’s doing it until mina walks in on her. think peter parker and gwen stacy

kickoff!gojo who has a full “project m’bappe” for your future kids. starts the kids off with a soccer plush and it leads to them being absolute powerhouses in toddler leagues

kickoff! reader who used to play soccer as a kid. threw a tantrum in the middle of a game because she decided she hated it. only started to like it again because of gojo

kickoff! gojo who keeps a printed out picture of the two of you in his wallet. Suguru took it at the frat party when gojo kissed you. around you is blurry and flashing lights, in the middle of the chaos is gojos lips pressed against yours. His hand is holding your waist, you’re slightly on your tippy toes to reach him. He sometimes zones off when paying because the picture catches his eye

BABE……..WHEN I TELL YOU IM BLUSHING N SQUEALING N KICKING MY FEET SM RN…..UHHH I THINK U MIGHT HAVE TO JUST TAKE OVER WRITING THE SERIES FOR ME??? bc i went thru sm emotions reading these pls 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

ok first of all tysm for thinking of these and sending them to me???? i genuinely cannot believe youve made headcanons for my fic that’s so surreal n i will forever remember this 😭😭

BUT ALSO THESE ARE SO ACCURATE PLS and all the little details omg it means sm that youve noticed all these lil thinfs throughout the fic n their relationship n i cld cry rn 😭😭

pls excuse me for addressing each n every one of these bc im so excited by them i fear this ask will be long so i’m adding a keep reading loool

sobsosbsosbsbsossbb the headcanons ab their digital fuckups LMAOO omg reader is 100% the type to be stalking him at 3am even tho she swears shes not even THAT down bad for him n then she loses all feeling in her face when she realizes she liked a post from when he was like in high school or sumn🧍🏻‍♀️there’s no coming back from that LMFAOO but i feel like gojo wldnt even notice it bc he probs gets a lot of notifs so she’s safe this time around 😭😭 BUT YOURE ALSO SO RIGHT AB HIM REREADING MESSAGES N THEN GETTING SPOOKED WHEN HE REALIZES SHE SAW THAT HE READ IT RIGHT AWAY LMAO i feel like he’d pull something like “uhhhh i was just about to trxt you, that’s why” and she’s like “🤨 this is the fifth time that’s allegedly happened”

aww reader trying to understand soccer for him 😭 thats so cute bahah also i made another headcanon recently from another anon who mentioned gojo streaming the world cup hehe it’d be so cute if reader shows up to the frat game nights in the jersey of the team that gojo’s rooting for bc she’s just trying to be a supportive girlfriend n she gets excited watching the game but she’s actually got no clue what tf is going on 💀 but gojo adores her for it so thats ok

the lockscreeennn that’s so cute 😭 also i love the idea of reader being his muse too :”) like he doesn’t know much about photography but bc of her he’s like kinda curious about it now so he’s always taking pictures of her w his phone while she’s not looking :”) i imagine his camera roll is just a bunch of candids of her while she’s dissociating off into the distance or something 🤣 n he’s like “wow so pretty im so good at this”

OK BUT READER IS ME THINKING AB GOJO EVERYWHERE I GO LMAOO no but srs that one made heart skip a beat bc how sweeettt is that 😭 i think that is a true mark of love where u think of someone everywhere you go :”) for gojo, i imagine that anytime he sees anything scenic or colorful or something like blooms of flowers or a nice sky he thinks of how she wld probably really love to take pics of it n he gets sad she’s not there to do so

okk im down for sims boyfriend gojo 🤣 and wdym by fun time omg 😭 pls dont tell me it’s possible to make people BONK on sims. ive seen a lot of tiktoks recently about how they added gojo to stardew valley n ppl have been marrying him lmfaoo i wonder if gojo wld try to marry her in sims 💀 cant tell if thats cute or creepy PLS tbh i’d probs be like “aww babe”🧍🏻‍♀️

and YES AB THE ONE WHERE SHE STARES AT GOJO’s PICS THATS PRACTICALLY CANON, also, there was supposed to be a scene exactly like that in ch8 where mina walks in on her staring at the pics she was editing for her professor 😭😭 so ur 100% right on. i just bet he looks so handsome in those photos cuz he’s concentrated n sweaty n probs looks really determined n in his element tbf i’d be starinf at those pics too LOL

YOURE SO RIGHT HAHA he’d make sure their kids are soccer prodigies 😭😭 startin them YOUNG. reader’s like “dont u think they’ve practiced enough today…they’re supposed to go to that birthday party at noon” and he’s like “THE GRIND NEVER STOPS😤🔥” 💀💀 unironically the type of dad that wakes his kids up at 5am on summer break to take em to soccer bootcamp or sumn 😭😭 ok but he knows theyre just kids n lets them have fun haha obviously but he just has high expectations for them lmaoo

im so tender to the idea of reader having played soccer in her youuuuthh how cute wld it be if she unknowingly also had a crush on gojo back when they were kids (maybe there was some sort of co-ed game they played ONCE when their elementary schools organized it n she was like omg who’s that boy over theree n it’s just 8 y/o gojo who’s got all the 2nd grade girlies swooning even back then 🤣) but in adulthood she probably doesnt rememebr that at all haha OMGGGG I NEED TO MAKE THIS CANON BC HOW ADORABLE WOULD IT BE IF GOJO’s MOM HAD TAKEN A PICTURE OF THE GAME BACK THEN N U CAN SEE LITTLE GOJO N LITTLE READER ARE IN THE SAME PHOTO im gonna sob???? im so inspired by these rn??? anon??? can i fr hug u through the screen???

omggg ok im deceased im dead ab the PICTURE IN HIS WALLET. THAT IS SO HUSBAND CODED and adorabke asf i just might melt rn 😭 him getting distarcted while paying kakskddjhd also i can imagine him having a picture in his wallet of her in her cap n gown on n stoles n everything during graduation or something bc it reminds him of their college days :”) n when he’s playing away games during national league he’s always looking at it when he’s away from home bc he misses her

also i feel like suguru might’ve taken the photo as a polaroid 🤔 now i headcanon that kickoff reader also has a polaroid camera bc why wouldnt she lmfaoo 🤣 but just imagine the polaroid relationship wall LOL its so corny but i wld want them to make one together 😩💕

screaming. crying. feeling so inspired rn. cheesing. cheeks r hurting. love u sm anon srs if you have more i will gobble them up like a turkey. LOVE YOU <333

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Through the Window

summary: despite the complexities of your relationship, Miguel always shows, ready and willing to slink through your window and submit in your bed.

pairing: afab!reader x miguel o’hara

contents: nsfw/18+/smut, sub!miguel o’hara, unprotected sex, light bondage, pet names, idiots in love, angst, happy ending

wc: 2,701

an: sub!miguel rights!!!! reducing him to a needy mess is in my hierarchy of needs, and it should be in yours too <3.

writing masterlist | marvel masterlist

“You have the nicest window, you know? None of the others can even compete. It's not flashy like the others, or bleary – your window gives off this nice, quiet light.” — Banana Yoshimoto, The Lake

Miguel has weaseled his way into your heart. He’s decidedly not your type— too much of a tight ass to even allow a smile at one of your jokes. Too broody to show what he’s actually feeling, hiding behind that glaring mask his face is set in.

That is until he breaks under the everpresent pressure of being a leader— the leader. It feels a little sadistic that you realized how well the two of you work together despite all your differences, when his mind is on the brink of collapse.

There’s a telltale knock on your window, five sharp taps in quick succession. He never uses the door, partially because he’s spiderman, partially because whatever this is that happened between the two of you isn’t real and it will never be. Letting him in through your front door would be a sign that you’re letting him into your heart. You’ve avoided that successfully, that is until tonight.

When you make it to the window to let him in, the sight of him makes every hair on your body stand on edge. Sure you’ve seen him struggle, but never like this. You’ve never seen Miguel look so defeated, his eyes somehow as cloudy with emotion as they are dead.

You cup his face in your hands, examining him, “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” He says sharply, not bothering to mumble to hide his fangs.

You know too much about him. You’ve studied him, his behaviors, his DNA, his patterns. There’s many reasons the two of you have decided to keep this purely physical but the most convincing is that you’re a scientist partnered with the police force to catch him. When he realized that knowing him, seeing him the way he allows you dampens your efforts, he told you some of his past. You know everything there is to know about Miguel O’Hara; everything he’ll let you know.

There are plenty of things you don’t know. You don’t know why he chose you. Why he comes back to you time and time again when there’s someone he could actually have a future with. You don’t know that he longs for you, dreams of impossible outcomes where the two of you can truly be together. Those are things that Miguel can never share with you— not when you do what you do.

Not when you only let him in and out through the window.

“If you don’t want to talk then strip and lay on the bed.”

Miguel melts under your commands. His shoulders that stay stiff—poised for control under the weight of keeping order— relax when he’s with you. He’s completely naked and sprawled out in your bed in under a minute. You grab some silks from the top drawer, and make your way over to him, straddling his lap.

His eyes are already ravenous as he looks up at you, their usual bright redness almost looking black in this lighting. His hands are restless as the rest on the sheets, itching to touch you. But when he’s in your bed like this, you call the shots.

You get both of his hands tied to the posts. You check them, tugging on them to make sure they’re secure but not too tight. “You remember what to say if you need me to stop?”

“‘Course I do,” He breathes, and you can hear the eagerness in his voice.

“Yeah you do, because you’re such a good boy for me.”

Miguel whimpers underneath you, chest rising as his breath quickens with anticipation. Sometimes he thinks that he can cum just from the sound of your voice, just from you looking at him the way you are right now. He’s used to having the power—to towering over others and making them feel as if they’re in his grasp. You’re looking at him like you own him, like you want to consume him completely. He’s ready to give in, to disappear in you.

There’s no reason for you to ask this question, but you can’t deny that your heart wants to hear his answer to it— so you ask.

“Why’d you come tonight?”

His legs shift beneath you impatiently, “Because I need you.”

“You need me,” You repeat, feigning skepticism. That skepticism isn’t completely unreal but you don’t have time to unpack that, not when he looks so desperate beneath you.

He nods, “Yeah, need you baby, please.”

You bend to kiss him, a smug smile on your lips, “Shh, you don’t have to beg, sweet boy. I won’t tease you, not tonight.”

You take him into your hand with a firm grip, stroking him the way you know will reduce him to a whiny mess— slow, drawn out strokes, slicked by his precum.

He practically dissolves under your touch, eyes rolling in the back of his head, “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, yeah baby.”

“Feel good?” You question playfully. You weren’t completely honest with your promise not to tease, but you’ll get him out of his head, give him so much pleasure that his brain fries despite poking fun at his desperation.

“So good, can I have more? I need to feel you, please.”

“You need it?” You ask. wanting to hear him say it again though he's already said it twice tonight.

“I need it— need you. Always need you,” He looks up at you with glassy eyes.

You aren’t sure if you want to wrap yourself around him and never let go or ride him until he’s a shuddering, crying mess. The first isn’t a possibility, so you go with the latter.

There is something distinctly unique about tonight. He’s always needy, always asking and begging for what he wants. But there’s a new depth to his desperation and his words. You almost believe him. You almost believe that he truly needs you, and not just the release he’s chasing. That he wouldn’t be able to get what he needs from anyone else, though this is just sex.

The way you guide yourself down onto his cock is gentle, teasing. His eyes shut, a soft gasp leaving his full mouth. He looks so beautiful beneath you. Miguel is large, one of the largest men you've ever seen and despite how many times you’re with him it takes a little effort. You shift steadily, using your free hand to rub at your clit so that you bloom and open more easily for him. When you whine at the stretch his eyes open, tracking immediately to the way your wet heat envelopes him.

“So fucking big, baby. You like that don’t you? Watching me take you? Watching me fuck you.”

“I like it,” He breathes easily. You’re about to tease him but then he says, “I love it.”

“Me too, baby. I love it too. You’re so fucking perfect for me, so fucking easy. You’d let me fuck you until I felt satisfied wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, whatever you need.”

“What I need, sweet boy, is to feel you cum. Fill me up. Can you be good and do that for me? Make it all messy.”

“Mhmm, just–kiss me, please? So close,” He groans beneath you, his body practically shaking with the effort it takes to keep his hips still.

“Since you asked so nicely,” You tease him, bending down to press your mouth to his.

Your hips don’t stop bouncing, taking him fast and deep, and the soft groans that echo out of him and into your mouth turn to high pitched whine as you feel him cum, filling you completely. You continue to ride him until tears prick his eyes from overstimulation. But, he doesn’t ask you to stop, doesn’t say that safe word because despite his orgasm he needs to feel you cum.

It doesn’t take long; with his cum and your building arousal it's easy to take him faster. You need a bit more, just a little. And while you know Miguel’s body well, there’s give and take. He knows yours just as well. He can see the desperation mounting in your eyes even in his subby haze. He rocks his hips up when you come down, biting out whimpers that meld with the sound of flesh on flesh.

“Untie me. Let me help you,” He suggests softly.

You have no arguments, reaching up to undo the knot at his wrists. His hands are on your body in an instant, one dropping to rub diligent circles into your clit while the other rolls your nipple gently through his fingers. You go completely stiff above him, squeezing the life out of his cock in a way that makes him cry out again. When you collapse against him he draws you close without another thought.

The two of you lay there for an eternity, breath returning to normal as you trace shapes on his chest. That’s the thing with you and Miguel, it starts quickly, a flurry of skin on skin, of hushed whines and limits pushed. But it ends, and that ending is always sobering. The longer you lay on his chest the more anxious you get.

Pushing up, you peer at him, seeing if there is any distress or anything he needs. Miguel’s very good at returning to his controlling headspace, the time frame of his vulnerability is tight. There’s nothing there when he gazes back at you, none of that desperation or longing that was just in his eyes. It’s eerie.

You look away, clearing your throat to ask, “Miguel, what are we doing? This…this is dangerous.”

He groans— it is full of exasperation and not pleasure— and scrubs a hand over his face, “We talk about this everytime and we end up here all over again. Don’t waste our breath.”

You ignore him, pulling his hand away from his face, “You could get caught coming in here and my job—“

He glares at you, shifting you off so he can sit up and throw his legs over the side of the bed. “We both know that you don’t give a fuck about that job. Not the way you’re supposed to anyway.”

“That wasn’t my point.”

“Then what was? Because you’re wasting my time.”

“What happened to ‘we talk about this everytime’?” You drop your voice an octave, tightening your shoulders to mock him. “Shouldn’t you know then?”

“Let’s not pretend that your spiel about getting caught has anything to do with me. It all has to do with you,” He starts to slip back into his suit, standing to pull it up and over his shoulders.

You reach for your robe as you step out of bed, following after him, “Why is it so impossible for you to believe that I would care?”

“If you care so much about me getting caught swinging through your window then why haven’t you let me in through the door? Y’know like a normal man would.”

“Because…because this is all I thought you would give me. And you’re not a normal man. You’re not just some guy to me. You have to know I don’t let you into my bed because you have fangs and swing from webs, right? You being Miguel to me…it has nothing to do with being Spiderman. Keeping things the way they are… made it easier to deny that.”

He stares at you through narrowed eyes, as if he’s gauging whether or not he believes you. He wants to…but he doesn’t. He can’t. Vulnerability begins to unravel in his chest, the kind that he distinctly avoids even though he submits to you. He needs to run before you see him.

“You know what…you were right. This is dangerous; I won’t come back, not for this nonsense. This bullshit.”

Panic rises in your throat as he starts toward the window. You always knew you would lose him but you never thought that it would be like this, with him walking away. Choosing to part.

“What about you? Why do you keep coming back? Why is it the first time you’ve brought up being a normal guy, walking through the door instead of sneaking in?” You ask quickly, reaching out to grab his hand.

He pulls away from you sharply but turns around his bright red eyes bleeding down into yours, “Your time for asking questions is up, maybe you should’ve asked when you had me tied up.”

Miguel can try to intimidate you, try to be the man he is outside of this window with you, but you know the truth. You know the way he bends and breaks and molds for you. Just for you. It’s what makes staring back at him so confidently easy.

“Until you slip out of that window you’re mine.”

“I’m never yours, this isn’t real. Never has been.”

“Then why? Answer my questions. Why do you keep coming back? Why are you just bringing up the thing about the door—“

“Because I didn’t want you to say no!” He shouts at you, the points of his fangs glistening in the moonlight. “There? Are you happy? Seen enough of me to bulk up your stupid little file?”

You stare at him, completely speechless for a moment. Is that what he thinks this is? That he’s at your mercy? Sure, he submits to you in bed but that’s his choice. He has all the power, he’s set the limits, he chooses when this all happens. And if one day he decided he didn’t want this anymore, you’re not sure how you would cope.

“Miguel, when have I ever been able to say no to you?”

He flushes, looking away, “Pretty often when we—“

“Because that’s what you need. It’s what you ask me to give you, but besides that? Tell me when.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes it fucking matters. You’re being avoidant.”

“I’m not being avoidant,” He says firmly, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Fine then what was your other argument? That I put the things you tell me here in the file? I’d never do that to you.”

“That’s bullshit, you’d squeak for that job in a heartbeat.”

“They don’t even know about your daughter,” You counter.

His eyes finally snap back to yours. If it were anyone else to get this stare from him, they’d think he was angry— but you know Miguel and see nothing but pain. “His daughter.”

“His daughter,” You amend quickly, knowing that it’s easier for him to view it that way. “It’s true anything you told me or showed me here, it’s…it’s ours.”

“Ours,” He tests cautiously, brow furrowing together as he looks down at the floor.

This must’ve been some reverse psychology ploy that he’d been waiting to use on you. How did you go from adamantly telling yourself that you and Miguel could never work to convincing him that every moment between the two of you is real? That it’s— that he— is the realest thing that’s ever happened to you.

How had this ended with you unable to let him go like all the times you had before?

“Stay.”

“That’s not—“

“Stay,” You say gently, reaching for his hand again. You thread your fingers through his. “Just for tonight, and if it’s too much, if it’s not what you thought it would be or something you want then in the morning you can walk out the door and never come back.”

“And if it is something I want?”

“Then tomorrow night, I imagine that around— I don’t know— 7 p.m. Miguel O’Hara is picking me up and taking me to dinner.”

His mouth twitches, fighting a smile, “Is that so?”

“He said it himself actually. Wish he was here to back me up, but I guess I’m stuck with you for now— the freaky spider guy in skin tight tights.”

And finally, for the first time, Miguel snorts before letting out a soft laugh at your joke. It’s a sound you never heard before but one you want to keep hearing over and over again.

“So that’s what your laugh sounds like,” You murmur as you pull him closer, burying your smiling face into his chest.

He quickly wraps his arms around you, whispering, “Get used to it.”

miguel taglist: @campingwiththecharmings, @whatthefishh, @scaraza, @stargazingcarol, @soft-persephone, @k-ra

let me know if you’d like to be tagged in miguel o’hara stuff!

[bloomingdayswithyou]

Kei bonding with a male reader. Figure he invites them to watch a practice and both bond over making sarcastic comments. Figure he's nicer or more polite than Kei by default but just as sarcastic.

Unlikely Bond

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x male reader

Words: 556

Warnings: none

Author's note: I'm SO sorry for being so late :(( a lot of things have happened and I just stopped logging in here😔 hopefully I'm back posting again regularly !!

The gymnasium was buzzing with energy as the Karasuno volleyball team went through their rigorous practice routines. Among the spectators, a boy named m/n found himself in the midst of the action, thanks to an invitation from Tsukishima Kei. The tall, blond player had surprised everyone when he'd asked m/n to come watch their practice.

Tsukishima, known for his sarcasm and sharp wit, had a reputation for keeping people at arm's length. Yet, for some reason, he had extended an invitation to m/n, and the latter couldn't help but feel curious about this unexpected turn of events.

As they watched the practice unfold, Tsukishima leaned over and muttered in a deadpan tone, "You're lucky, you know. Not everyone gets an invitation to watch us practice."

m/n smirked and replied, equally deadpan, "I must be special then. Or maybe you just needed someone to appreciate your block at a whole new level."

Tsukishima's lips twitched in what could pass for a smirk, and he focused on the court. "You catch on quickly. Maybe you won't be a complete waste of my time."

The banter continued throughout the practice. Tsukishima would point out the team's mistakes, and m/n would fire back with witty comments. Despite the sarcasm, there was an underlying camaraderie forming between them, an unspoken understanding that they both enjoyed this back-and-forth.

As the practice neared its end, Tsukishima elbowed m/n lightly. "Hey, you've got a decent eye for the game. Not bad for a spectator."

m/n raised an eyebrow. "I could say the same for you. You're not as insufferable as I thought."

Tsukishima snorted, a faint smile crossing his lips. "High praise, coming from you."

After practice, Tsukishima and m/n walked out of the gymnasium together. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows on the school grounds.

"So, what made you invite me here today?" m/n finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Tsukishima glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "I noticed you watching our games sometimes. You seemed genuinely interested, and you weren't one of those annoying fans who scream 'spike it' every time the ball's in the air."

m/n chuckled. "Well, I do appreciate the finer points of the game, and I've seen enough volleyball to know that screaming doesn't help."

Tsukishima nodded in agreement. "Exactly. Plus, I figured it would be nice to have someone to talk to who can hold a conversation without resorting to fangirling."

They continued walking in comfortable silence for a while before Tsukishima spoke again. "You know, I'm not usually the inviting type."

m/n raised an eyebrow. "I gathered as much."

Tsukishima sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But I've been trying to be more open lately. The team captain suggested it might be good for morale. So, here you are."

m/n couldn't help but smile at the admission. "Well, I appreciate the opportunity. It's been...surprisingly enjoyable."

They reached a nearby vending machine, and Tsukishima bought two drinks before handing one to m/n. As they sipped their drinks, Tsukishima cleared his throat. "Look, don't get the wrong idea. I didn't invite you here to become best friends or anything."

m/n laughed. "I didn't have any such expectations. But I won't object to more sarcastic volleyball commentary in the future."

Tsukishima smirked. "In that case, I'll consider inviting you again."

.

.

.

[palioom]

Hi omg I love your work so much I’ve been following your fics every time you post I thank the twitter algorithm everyday for letting your fics get to me 🥹

if you’re taking requests could I request maybe some period sex? Any Pedro pascal character of your choice! :))

Either that or just a fic with LOTS of oral fem receiving? Up to you :))

Can’t wait for your future fics, with or without my requests 🥹

hi! thank you so much for your request! i had so much fun writing this, basically went right to work and just waited a bit to post it!! I hope you enjoy! 🖤

recommended dose of dick

summary: waking up to your period in the morning, you insist that javier still goes to work. when he comes back in the evening, having worried about you all day, he knows exactly how to help you.

pairing: javier peña x f!reader word count: 2.4k warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n (but a lot of nicknames); period sex; period talk; descriptions of blood; unprotected p in v; fingering; javier being sweet as hell

• masterlist •

Cramps.

That’s all she woke up to, that annoying tug in her abdomen and the mild cramps that would certainly get worse as the sun rose higher.

Honestly, she had been expecting it. That weird feeling in her stomach had been bothering her for days now, her breasts had suddenly started to hurt, too.

Still, she couldn’t quite stop herself from snapping at Javier when he woke up in the morning, already finding her in the kitchen, sipping her coffee. Slightly hunched over, a hot-water bottle pressed against her stomach despite the sweltering Colombian heat.

He knew immediately what plagued her, kissing the top of her head as he walked up to her, hearing her grumpy hum.

“Want me to stay home, cariño?” He asked, brushing his knuckles over her cheek. She looked tired and fucking exhausted, worse than he did sometimes after a long chase. 

Javier wouldn’t even try to say he understood her pain, because he truly did not. What he knew was that it hurt like hell and not even painkillers seemed to help in the first couple of days. Not for her, at least.

“How’re they gonna catch Escobar if you’re not there?” She responded, looking at him as he poured himself his own cup of coffee.  “I think I’ll call in today but you go to work or Escobar is gonna be the least of your worries.”

A small laugh escaped her as she said that, regretting it as a sharp pain shot through her.

He just smiled a little, drinking his coffee.

“You’re not scaring anybody like this, cariño.” He replied, chuckling into his cup as she shot daggers at him over the rim of hers.

All day he spent thinking about her, wondering if she was holding up alright every free minute he got. Javier knew she was tough, she would make it through the day without him somehow.

But he was worried about how she felt. Some months were worse than others, and it ranged from some cramps and back pain to feeling dizzy and sick and barely being able to move.

So once he got off work, later than he had expected to, he drove straight home, taking the chocolates he had picked up before work with him.

She loved them when she was on her period, said it brought her some relief, as long as she didn’t eat too much at once. It was the least he could do for her.

At least in a non-physical way.

Smiling when he walked into their shared apartment, setting the sweets down before finding her curled up in bed, blanket pulled up to her chin despite the heat, eyes closed but not sleeping.

Javier’s heart broke a little, seeing her like this. Hated to see her in pain, tired and exhausted.

Maybe he could help her a little.

Kneeling down in front of her, he brushed some hair out of her face, letting the rough pads of his fingers trace over her temple and down to her jaw. Taking in just how tired she looked, but also how beautiful.

Always so goddamn beautiful, no matter what.

Her eyes opened, bleary as she squinted at him, the smallest smile tugging at the corners of her pretty lips.

“Hey.”

He chuckled softly, thumb brushing over her cheekbone.

“Hey, cariño.” Voice quiet as he spoke, he leaned forward to kiss her forehead, lingering for just a few seconds longer than he usually would. “Still bad?”

She nodded and hummed before she sighed, freeing one arm of her loose cocoon of blankets and reaching out to brush some of his dark hair back, letting her fingernails run along his scalp.

“Been trying to sleep all day ‘cause nothing helps, but I can’t even sleep.”

He wished he had stayed home with her, then he at least could have tried to help her. Even if it was only to bring her things, to cuddle with her.

But as she had said, Escobar would have been nothing compared to her if he had stayed.

“Got an idea how to help the cramps and tire you out.” He said, smirking just a little.

As her brows knit together in confusion, he let out a soft laugh.

It took her a moment too long to realize what he meant, rolling her eyes with a smile as she did.

“God, Javi.” 

“Took you long enough to get.” He grinned, thumb still brushing over her cheek. So soft and warm, her soft smile making her cheeks appear so much bigger, making her look adorable. “What do you say, mhm?”

Leaning in, he slotted his lips against hers, hand moving to pull back the blanket she had wrapped herself in. The smallest hum left her, letting him continue as he rolled her onto her back by her shoulder, deepening the kiss as he went.

She immediately felt a different kind of pressure in her abdomen, moaning when his hand dipped into her tank top and squeezed her sensitive breast.

It was like a switch had been flipped, needing nothing more than him between her thighs and his cock inside of her, eternally thankful that he was so nonchalant about the mess of it all.

When he pulled back and got up, she looked up at him confused.

“Just a moment, cariño.” He said, leaving the room.

There was the sound of cabinets opening and closing, then he was back already, towels in hand and having shedded his jacket now.

She laughed when he threw the towels into the bed next to her before climbing on top of her, the pain that followed after making her grunt softly.

“Looks like you really need some relief, querida.” He chuckled, starting to take off her top. Rough, broad hands roamed over the warm and exposed skin before moving to work on her sweatpants next.

“Can’t wait for my recommended dose of dick, guaranteed to relieve any period cramps.” She joked, the smile that graced her pretty face so stunning, even despite the pain she was in. “Been waiting all day for you to deliver it to me.”

“You told me to go to work, querida.” He said, hooking his fingers under the waistband and pulling them down slowly.  “Could’ve had it a lot sooner.”

She rolled her eyes, pulling him down to her by the collar of his shirt, kissing him. He felt so warm against her, his hands wandering down to lay over her lower abdomen, right where he knew it hurt the most.

Like it usually did, his hands were almost better than any hot-water bottle when he placed them there.

It brought her some relief, sighing into his mouth as her hands worked on the button of his too tight jeans, needing him desperately.

His hands just never were enough.

She peeled the denim off of him with his help and his shirt followed next, leaving him only in his boxers.

When she gently palmed him, he stopped for just a moment with a soft groan, making her chuckle.

“Fuck, cariño.”

Javier let her continue for a few more seconds before remembering he was supposed to help her, not have her do this to him.

So he moved her hand away, sitting back on his haunches before grabbing the towel. She lifted her hips without a word, biting her lip as he placed it beneath her, then moving to pull off her panties.

She felt so exposed, like every time they did this, even though it was far from the first time he had fucked her like this, his thick fingers already brushing over the inside of her thighs before finding her lips. Pressing two fingers against her sensitive clit, he watched how she squirmed, took in her throaty hum that turned into a drawn out moan.

“Javier, please-” She moaned, rolling her hips against his fingers, her own twisting into the sheets.

Pressure already building as he gently pressed against the swollen bud, knowing she needed more than this, letting them slip lower to her aching hole.

He pressed one inside, slowly, her body tensing for a moment before relaxing into the mattress below her, his thick finger slowly opening her up, stroking along her most sensitive spots and making her whine.

Eyes closing when he added a second one, pumping in and out of her, curling them into that soft spot that made her see stars, arching her back.

“How’s that feel?” Javier asked, curling his fingers repeatedly until her thighs started shaking and her sounds became breathier, then stopped the motion. 

Even like this he couldn’t stop teasing her.

“Feel’s good- fuck, but I need you Javi, please, baby.” She whined, opening her eyes to peer at him, the pressure inside her unbearable as her pain slowly became secondary. “Stop being mean.”

“Mean?” He echoed her statement with a grin, once again curling his fingers over and over, feeling her get closer, hips bucking up and into his motions.

Her orgasm hit her faster than she thought it would, moaning as she contracted around him, coating his hand with her blood, the slick sounds echoing between them as he kept working his fingers inside of her.

“That’s my pretty girl, there you go. Just like that, cariño.”

Pushing her through every last wave as she hummed and moaned and whined, visibly relaxing already as the cramps eased slowly.

But she needed more, reaching for his wrist to make him pull back, seeing his fingers covered in her blood and feeling her face grow hotter at the sight.

There would always be something forbidden about this, like he wasn’t supposed to do this and like she wasn’t supposed to like this as much as she did.

She was happy that he didn’t mind the blood or the mess, wiping it onto the towel before moving to take his boxers off.

Visibly liking this a little too much as well, his hard length pulsing as he hovered over her, hand caressing her neck while he kissed her.

“Getting better?” Javier asked, notching himself against her slick entrance, her legs falling open just a little more.

She hummed in affirmation, smiling. “Still need my recommended dose of dick.”

He chuckled, bending his head to kiss her sternum, his mustache tickling her hot, sensitive skin.

“Yeah, I’ll give you that, don’t worry.” Javier said, slowly pressing inside, groaning against her skin.

Her fingers threaded into his hair, moaning at the feeling of him splitting her open slowly, inch by inch.

It still hurt, but in a strangely good way, feeling just a little uncomfortable as he stilled to give her time, so sensitive.

His mouth made its way up her neck, nipping at her skin as he went, feeling the vibrations of her hums in her throat. Slowly higher up until he found her lips, kissing her so hard it made her dizzy, his hips slowly beginning to rock back and forth.

Her moan was swallowed by his mouth, his tongue finding hers as he pushed back into her, the wet squelch of her pussy only spurring him on.

Over and over, her hands tracing over his broad back, back arching up into her as he kept hitting that spot inside of her, slowly becoming faster as he kept building her up, the pain shrinking down into a mild annoyance at this point.

His body felt heavenly against hers, so warm and solid, feeling his muscles flex and tense, pressing her deeper into the mattress.

“Javi, gonna come-” She choked out as his lips left hers to nip and suck at her neck again, leaving her no time until she tightened around him a second time, whining against his shoulder as her body tensed up.

Wave after wave setting her veins on fire, pushing the pain further away, finally having some peace for the first time today.

“Like that, fuck- Feels good, baby!” She mumbled into his skin as he gradually lost his rhythm, thrusts becoming sloppier.

“There you are, hermosa, fucking pretty girl- Fuck!” 

His teeth sank into her neck as he came, pressing himself deep inside of her, the pulsing of her slick pussy drawing him in deeper.

Feeling so tight around him, happy as he noticed her relax underneath him, trembling just a little at the sensation.

He stayed buried inside of her for a while as they caught their breaths, soothing the bite he left, his rough hands smoothing over her hips as he did. 

“Dose of dick effective?” Lifting his head to look at her, he caught her smile, drowsy and lopsided.

“Very effective.” She chuckled, cupping his cheeks with her hands, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks. “You’re the best, Javi.”

He hummed, pressing another kiss to her lips before he kissed her forehead, then pulled out of her slowly.

It was amazing how nothing could help but him fucking into her, her cramps gone for the time being.

“Magic dick.” She giggled as he got up to get a wet washcloth to clean them both up, making him laugh as he nudged her knee.

That deep laugh she didn’t get to hear as often as she would like to, his head always elsewhere, occupied with work.

“You need sleep, hermosa.” He said when he was back, already cleaned up himself and now wiping the warm, wet rag along her inner thighs and over her middle. Removing all the blood as carefully as he could. “You should be able to now.”

Finished with his task, he brought the rag back to the bathroom to be cleaned tomorrow.

If she hadn’t been so damn tired he would have dragged her off into a shower, but she was already dozing off as he came back to her, climbing into bed.

Looking so beautiful like this, eyes barely open to look at him, small smile on her face.

He pulled her against him, mindful of the towel, kissing her forehead.

“Maybe you can stay home tomorrow.” She mumbled, eyes drifting shut, feeling incredibly at ease now, slumped against his body. “Give me more of that magic dick.”

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. His hand smoothed over her back, up and down along her spine.

“Sleep, we’ll see about getting you a dose in the morning.” 

Her laugh was nothing more than a sharp exhale through her nose before she dozed off, her face finally relaxed and peaceful.

He doubted he could stay home with all that was going on now, but there would certainly be time for a morning dose before he had to leave her.

[violetasteracademic]

On Mate Behavior: Elriel (Part Two- Scent)

Another day of an SJM Instagram jump scare with more stories and no book accouncement (though I am HAPPILY celebrating indie bookstore day with you all!)- So it's another day to be on my Elriel shit. Will we still want posts like this once the announcement is out and we are done fighting for our lives? I feel like the announcement is coming soon so I need to sneak in all my thoughts!

In my previous analysis, I highlighted a moment that would have been perfect for Azriel to display some mate-like behavior towards Gwyn, and it was sorely lacking. You can catch up on that post here!

Today I would like to discuss another area lacking in mate behavior in the BC between Azriel and Gwyn, but present for... drumroll... Elriel. And that is scent.

Bringing back Nessian's bonus chapter to start the parallels, because I do think an additional bonus lends itself to the fairest basis for comparison (also if I used book examples from ToG to CC regarding romantic parings/mates and scent I'd be here for several hundred years):

Cassian is so lost in Nesta's scent that he had to stop himself from letting his eyes roll back into his head while breathing her in. This... sounds familiar:

Azriel's eyes also nearly rolled into the back of his head because of Elain's scent.

As previously mentioned, scent plays a huge role in mates/romantic pairings. I was chatting with my friend @faeprincesswarrior when I first started thinking about the scent thing, and she remembered that Rhys could smell Feyre's scent before they even met. He would wake up with her scent in his nose. Cassian and Azriel both can hardly control themselves when they take in the scents of Nesta and Elain.

Scent plays an important role in romantic pairings, and is honestly probably one of the things SJM lays on the thickest throughout the entirety of her multiverse and she has a tendency to drop it early on, often as an initial indicator. Yes, sometimes scenting is platonic, but Gwyn and Az don't even have that on page. There is simply no mention of scent in their portion of the chapter, but it is heavy in Elain's section.

*Crescent City 3 Spoiler* Even when Ithan is done with all his side quests and spends just a few moments with Perry, he's suddenly like mmm... strawberries and cinnamon. No other indicator of mate behavior there but MANY readers only needed that little nugget to be like- something's cooking here.

Again, in addition to Azriel's lack of response to directly recalling Gwyn's assault from his POV on page- something I would have liked to see to indicate feelings could be brewing there- there is also zero mention or indication that Azriel experiences Gwyn's scent at all. Even something small, like "a shift in her scent" at his arrival, or noticing a change in her scent from her flash of memory as well (as it happened between Nesta and Cassian.)

Azriel lost his mind over Elain's scent in their bonus chapter, just as Cassian lost his mind over Nesta's scent in theirs.

Azriel makes no mention of Gwyn's scent in the BC. It's as if to him, she doesn't even have one.

I want Azriel and Elain to be together because Azriel and Elain want to be together. They experience what romantic pairings experience together, and it is delicious.

I love Gwyn, which is why I think if she is going to have a romance in the future, she deserves more than a regifted necklace and a male who is drowning in the scent of another female's kitty and doesn't even notice what Gwyn smells like. This is really what we want for her?

Hoping for a book announcement soon. Do you guys like seeing Sarah post more? I have mixed feelings. Part of me thinks it is gearing up for an announcement which is exciting. Part of me also is tired of the jump scares and wants complete silence unless it is a book announcement. Judge me if you must!

[writingonleaves]

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? (did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?) - jeremy swayman

pairing: jeremy swayman x original female character

warnings: swearing, pretty angsty. hopeful ish ending because i can't do sad endings, very personal but i think many can relate in their own way, cliche ish, barely proofread

inspired by + title: "the smallest man who ever lived" by taylor swift

word count: 5.6k

author's note: i'd argue almost every piece any author writes is personal, because it has their life interspersed through the words. but this one really is, because a majority of this is the exact same words i wrote years ago after a break-up. heard the bridge to this song and immediately knew i had to write something inspired by it. also trying a new format of sorts (maybe a bit meta??), so i hope you enjoy and lmk what you think!!

~*~*~

When Noelle Betsko walked away from Jeremy Swayman, holding back tears until the call dropped, she knew it was going to be a tough time for the foreseeable future. 

It didn’t matter that the pandemic had forced them apart. She knew she would still feel him for months to come.

She did the only thing she knows how to do when trying to deal with things. The one thing she always resorts to as an aspiring novelist. Sometimes on her laptop when the words were spilling out too quickly for her brain to catch up, tears littering the keyboard. Usually in her old beat-up journal, scribbling in the cursive that Jeremy claimed he always loved (“It makes your handwriting unique”) with the pens he had gifted her just a few months prior. 

At the age of 21, Noelle got her heart broken for the first time. At the age of 26, she’s about to publish her first poetry collection of sorts, all of the poems modeled after journal entries written throughout her life. So not really poetry, though her mother would say otherwise. 

She swallows as she thumbs through the middle part of the first known and binded copy of “miscellaneous.” There are only eight entries in the whole collection that are taken verbatim from her past writing. These are the eight.

May 13, 2020 (three days post-breakup, crying in my childhood bedroom)

I don’t even recognize who I was and who you were in those writings before these pages filled with love and hope and happiness. I can’t even summon up those feelings anymore that I knew existed at one point. Those feelings of complete bliss and love for someone so deep you can’t explain it. 

I’m mad at myself for not being able to conjure those feelings, because at one point, I did love you. How could something that was part of my daily life for over two years just disappear so quickly? 

But now, I’m not mad at myself. I’m mad, but I don’t know where to direct that anger to. I feel a bit empty sometimes, but then frustrated the next. Sometimes I get sad, but not so much compared to the other feelings. I spent enough time being sad during our relationship.

When we broke up, on an annoyingly beautiful Tuesday in May — over the damn phone, mind you, which whatever, it’s COVID. Fine — You told me you felt like you had been putting more effort into us. 

At the time, I didn’t react, but I’ve been thinking about how angry that statement made me. Makes me, actually. I was always very open with how much I gave to that relationship. How much it meant to me. How much it affected me. But I understand that with some people, sharing everything too much equates to things not meaning anything anymore. But you out of all people should’ve known that I mean everything I say.

I felt like I gave so much. I know I gave so much. When I told you I loved you, I always meant it. Every single time. When I told you I missed you, I always meant it. I wished you were right next to me at that moment. I mentally gave so much, because to me, I wanted to. You were always on my mind, always high up on my list of priorities. I never took us for granted.

I’ve been questioning if that was the same for you. Did you start becoming complacent?

The second thing you said that day that hasn’t left my head is that you knew me pretty well. And initially, I remember not thinking much of it. So I don’t doubt that; you always knew right when I was about to cry, even over the phone. You often knew when I was mad or upset, but when I look back now, you never pushed. Which is a good thing, to an extent. But it was a bad thing sometimes too. I knew you often wanted to give me space, but sometimes I didn’t want space. I wanted you to push. To try to understand. Maybe that’s unfair of me; it probably is. I should just say I want to talk about it more, right? 

But if you genuinely knew me, you would’ve known.

After two years, seven months and 12 days,  I still feel like I didn’t know you. Did I ever know you at all?

When people talked shit about you, I always defended you. And I still would defend you now. But lately, I've questioned what I’m even defending. All those good qualities that I thought you had, were they even real? Of course, I know some of them were, to a certain extent. But as I look back on us, there’s a lot of doubt about whether I even knew the person I called my boyfriend for so long. I know there was a point where you cared about me, but I can’t remember when. 

I often felt like I was letting you know so much about my life, but you didn’t do the same. I get that sometimes a person just wants to forget about the bad and focus on the good with a person you like for awhile. I get that. But once that was happening every damn time? That should’ve been a red flag. 

June 7, 2020 (twenty eight days post break-up, outside my childhood room on the deck) 

I don’t understand how you can give so much to something or someone and have it not be recognized or appreciated or enough. If I wasn’t enough for you, how will I be enough for anyone?

I hope one day you’ll truly understand how much this hurt. Not just the breakup, but feeling like I was always being pulled in a direction I didn’t always want to be pulled in. Feeling I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and never ever being able to win. I hate that I settled so much in the last year. Because I should’ve demanded more, even though deep down I knew you were never going to be able to give it to me.

I think back to our past daily texts, and I just don’t get it. At one point, we both meant the things we said to each other. 

Yet we still hurt each other. 

This fucking hurts.

You’ve hurt me so much, but most of it wasn’t intentional, which I think is somewhat even worse. Because I’m not totally mad at you for causing the pain. You never did anything outright to cause me pain, but I still feel like you did. 

Unintentional pain almost stings more than intentional. 

When I asked you out that night after we were both on an emotional high, I took a chance. For once in my life, I took the leap, knowing that I could get humiliated or hurt or just straight up shot down. 

Where did it all go wrong? Or, more realistically, how did we think that we could go through the wrong when it was there at the start?

I’m trying not to blame myself too much. Trying not to tell myself that I should’ve known better. 

All those times, especially at the start, when I would ask you if you genuinely liked me, you always thought I was just trying to be annoying. But you never understood that I genuinely thought that way. My self confidence from the start was lacking, and you didn’t try to understand that, because I come across to everyone as confident and self-assured. 

It hurt, when you would brush things off like that. I felt like you didn’t care.

And then, it got to the point where I stopped asking that question. Part of that is because I did become more confident and you did show that you cared, and part of that was because I knew it would piss you off.

The amount of things I was scared to talk about with you because I knew it would piss you off? I don’t wish that feeling on anybody.

I shouldn’t have been scared. I shouldn’t have been uncomfortable. But I was. And if you did notice like sometimes you claimed to, why didn’t you make it more comfortable for me? Was that too much to ask for? 

So larger than life that at the end, you faded into just the smallest man who ever lived. Fuck you.

Was it too much to ask for when I just wanted to know why you were upset? You didn’t have to ever tell me the full story (lord knows there were times I didn’t), but was it too much to ask for something? You told me once that I’m the person you’ve told the most to. How? You barely told me anything. And when I wanted to talk to you, whether it was about growing up in Alaska or why you were in a bad mood last night, you always brushed it off. Always. 

So I don’t feel so bad about feeling like I gave more effort. I gave so much of myself to you. If you really cared about me like you claimed you did, why couldn’t you show even just 1% of that care back? Or just meet me in the middle?

I could’ve tried harder to meet you in the middle, I’ll admit that. But you didn’t even give me a map or a clue how to. 

I felt so fucking left in the dark. I felt left in the dark about my own fucking relationship, something that I should be completely sure about. If you really love someone and care about them, how can you leave them in the dark? How could you not even see that I was struggling to find a flashlight?

You did care about me. I know that. To some extent and at some point in time, you did care about me. But caring about someone and their well-being isn’t always enough.

Why couldn’t you have worked with me? When I was extending my hand out, why didn’t you reach for it? How can someone just be so blind? I mean, I’m practically always spelling it out for you. 

Maybe I am being selfish. But fuck, I just wanted to be happy. At some point, you made me happy. When did I start making you feel like I wasn’t enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?

It’s useless, in a way, to keep going about this. Because I know I deserve better. And we’ll both find people who are better for us. We just couldn’t be that person to each other.

I fucking loved you.

I wish it ended differently.

July 8, 2020 (fifty nine days post-breakup, in front of the lake)

I really really fucking miss you. 

I do. 

I miss being able to text you that i love you and not necessarily expecting a response until the next morning. I miss knowing that as soon as you wake up, you’ll text me back and assure me that yeah, you love me too. 

I’m left feeling bittersweet as I look back on memories that are just splashes and not definite strokes on the canvas that used to be us.

I miss having you as a friend. 

I’ve been having more urges lately to want to text you. And it isn’t even anything important. Just moments I experience throughout the day.

Do you get the urge to do the same?

July 19, 2020 (seventy days post-breakup, still in the same damn house)

It’s hard. It really is. And it kinda just hits you at random parts of the day. Sometimes I wake up from a dream that you were in and have to remind myself that it didn’t happen. 

Sometimes it physically aches when I realize that you won’t ever help me put on my jacket again, or complain that my hair is in your face when we’re lying on the couch watching Brooklyn Nine Nine, or groan when I drag you up to dance with me (which you never improved on, no matter how many times I tried to teach you basic rhythm). I can’t view our song the same way anymore, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. 

The other day, I read some simple thing on Twitter. I don’t even remember what it was, but I do remember that for a split second, I could see your smile in my mind. But it wasn’t just any smile. It was the smile you gave me when you took me ice skating that first time. I remember asking you what you were smiling at, and you said that you just were taking in this moment. I don’t know if you took a mental picture that day, but I know I did. That day seems so long ago now. 

In almost anything I do, you somehow pop into my mind or into the conversation. And it’s not even in a harmful way either. It’s because you were part of my life for so long. I see a dog on the street, and it reminds me of how you always stopped to pet every single one we’s see I write something in my messy handwriting, and I remember how you always used to complain that you couldn’t read the notes I’d occasionally leave around your place when you went away. I went to the doctor’s the other day, and they said I was 5 feet and 3 inches, which is just definitely not true, and I almost reached for my phone to text you, because you would’ve cackled and insisted that no, I’m 5 feet 2 inches and it wouldn’t even matter because I’ll always be shorter than you. It’s simple and minute things that make me miss you that much more.

I still can’t listen to some songs the same way anymore, but I can at least listen to them now, which is a feat in itself. I was unpacking from college and found the teddy bear you sent me the first extended time we had to be apart and had to immediately put that out of my sight. From those boxes also came photos that I had decorated my dorm room with, and to be honest, I’m glad now that I let you keep our best one. I deal with all my emotions, besides writing, by making Spotify playlists, and I made a new one earlier this week. I think it’s helping. It’s a slow process, this whole moving on thing, but it’s one that I’m trying to be grateful for, because like most things in life, you just don’t truly know until you go through it.

Sometimes, I find myself wondering how you are and how you’re healing. But, even though we’ve both changed since the day we met, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re incredibly strong and stubborn. I hope that you’re finding some growth in this process too. 

October 17, 2020 (one hundred fifty seven days post-break up, apartment in orono)

It’s been almost 5 months, and you still cross my mind everyday. 

Why wasn’t I enough for you? Why didn’t you fucking tell me what you were thinking? Why was I the one who had to approach you just because I was just so done with the silent treatment?

But I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. The mad phase passed ages ago. 

Closure is a fake word. Even a breakup as mutual and smooth as ours was still left me with so many questions that will probably never be answered. 

Any breakup fucks you up to some extent. I knew it was going to mess me up even back when we were together. But not like this. Never like this. 

But like anything in life, I guess you can never really prepare for what you think you might feel, because most of the time, you discover a whole new side of you that you never thought existed. 

I don’t miss you. I don’t. I don’t feel that love in any way anymore. 

But I did once.

You did too, right?

November 15, 2020 (one hundred eighty six days post break-up, fogler library)

I hate Halloween. 

Though, it did bring me to you three years ago. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you right then and there. 

Three years later, you texted me on Halloween, five months after our breakup. The universe really, really wanted to fuck with me. 

It was a tough night for you. I knew that. Because I know how you are after losing a game you should’ve won. But that didn’t mean that I owed you anything and had to respond. 

We agreed on no contact if we ever wanted to stay friends. Clearly, friends is out of the picture now, but come on. A vulnerable text after a bad night because you know I would feel bad for you?

Fuck, you know how much I would hate that. You had to have known. 

Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean that everything about you just disappears. I still know your tendencies. I still know exactly how my head burrows into your chest during a hug. I still know the actions I used to do that would be followed by you attacking me with a hug. I still could point you out in a crowd. 

I looked for you in every crowd for years. 

That stuff doesn’t just go away, no matter how much I want it to. But fuck. Fuck. Why did you text me? 

I don’t regret how I handled it. I probably would’ve responded months ago. But just like you, I’ve grown these last couple of months. 

It was comforting, for a split second, to know that maybe, just maybe, these past couple of months have been hard for you too. It makes me feel human. It makes me feel like I’m not crazy.

I’m glad you texted me. You gave me another level of closure I hadn’t known that I needed until then. 

But fuck, dude. You know me better than that. You should know me better than that. 

I hate Halloween.

November 26, 2020 (one hundred ninety seven days, at the coffee shop i brought you to when you came home with me two years ago)

I don’t regret loving you, but I hate you for what you did to me. 

Or maybe not. 

I hate knowing that even though we haven’t been in a relationship in a bit, it feels like sometimes, you’re on my mind the exact same amount when we were dating. I hate knowing that I gave so much of myself and my love to you, and it always felt unrecognized. 

Fuck, will it ever stop hurting? Will I ever be able to have to stop myself from thinking about you? Will it ever stop?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy it.

June 12, 2021 (three hundred ninety five days post-break up, in boston, visiting a friend)

Tonight, when a friend asked me about you and how I felt about how we ended, I was able to articulate my thoughts clearly. I’m really proud of myself for getting to a point where I can take the lessons I learned the few months after we broke up and acknowledge them in a succinct way without breaking down into tears. Just watery eyes and the occasional voice crack 

I’m also proud that I can say that when we were dating, I lost a bit of myself. For months, it was really hard to admit out loud.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Sometimes, I wish I could call or text you about it, because I think you’d be proud too. And I know I’d be proud of you. I am, to be honest. I do break resolve once in awhile and check on you through various avenues.

I still haven’t seen you in person since the last time COVID made us say goodbye. Maybe I never will again. But day by day, I’m starting to accept that and be okay with it. I’m accepting that memories that used to be so painted in my mind are blurry or almost completely erased now. But that’s okay. Honestly, it’s probably for the best. 

I wonder, when you think about it, if you think about different moments that I do. That’s the thing when something ends. You have to be okay with letting go of those moments and realizing that just because you forget them, doesn’t mean they weren’t important. 

I don’t think I miss you. I hesitate in saying that. Because I’ve moved on and handled the aftermath of it better than I think both of us ever thought I could. When you hung up the phone for the last time, I proved to myself again that I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. I think we all are. But we don’t realize it until we’re thrown into a situation that we think we’ll never be able to overcome. 

But we do. Whether it’s because we’re forced to because there’s no other option, it doesn’t matter. Because we get through. We move on. 

I hope you're moving on. 

And then it goes into other topics, graduating during a pandemic specifically and losing what’s supposed to be your last year of no responsibilities before adulthood. There are other poems in here that reference a past relationship, but not as much as these eight. 

If there’s one thing that Noelle did change, it was taking out the details. Jeremy may have hurt her, but he doesn’t deserve someone possibly making a connection between these poems and their shared background. She’s not a famous author by any means, but she wanted to be careful.

Not that she makes that part of her life publicly known. People don’t need to know that her brother was Jeremy’s captain for two years at Maine and that’s how they met. 

Noelle grew up going to rinks. She hasn’t gone to one since they broke up. 

But also, what the fuck? It’s been five years since she’s dated the guy. She really is over it by now, even if his rise to stardom in the Bruins flittering on her social media feeds still sometimes has her swallowing a bit before she can continue with her day. 

Brooklyn is far enough from Boston. But sometimes it feels like it’s right outside her door. 

She’s proud of her first published work. She really is. People believed in her and after numerous notes swapped back and forth with her editor, she did it. She always knew she wanted to work in publishing. She never knew she herself would publish anything.

And here she is now, two weeks after the book release, in Boston, about to do a q&a and a signing. Apparently, “miscellaneous” has been on top of numerous lists and it’s flying off the shelves. Noelle can’t really believe it and tries not to think about it too much, trusting her agent with all of that. 

She’s happy to talk about her work and process though. That she can handle. And she’s grateful for all the love.

After a signing at a local bookstore, she decides to walk the 20 minutes home in the Boston fall. It’s a bit brisk, but she doesn’t mind and she just wanders, belly filled with delicious sushi she inhaled for dinner with an old friend.

Of course it happens the one time during her walk when she doesn’t avoid eye contact with someone. The song playing in her earbuds fade out of her focus and she almost stumbles. 

Jeremy’s eyes were always Noelle’s favorite thing about him. She thought she would’ve forgotten what they looked like by now. But clearly she hasn’t. 

Her eyes quickly cast to the person next to him. It’s definitely a girl. They’re a bit too far away for Noelle to pick out details. But it’s enough. He’s walking on the side closest to the street. It’s a Friday Night in a bustling part of the city. 

It hurts. She wishes it didn’t.

Even from far away, she sees his eyes blink in recognition. Noelle puts her head back down and walks faster. 

(She cries in the shower when she gets back to the hotel. She had debated feeling super sorry for herself and going to the hotel bar but refrained)

She has a few free days in Boston before flying back to New York. When she wakes up the next morning, she debates on going home early. But no, she won’t let a three second glance at someone ruin her time here. She used to occasionally come here during her college days. She loves this city. 

The city may be Jeremy’s, but she can make space for herself here too. 

She takes her time at a cafe, people watching and eating some breakfast. As she takes her coffee to-go, she looks out the window at the bookstore she was in the night before for the signing. She almost drops her coffee. 

Jeremy walks into the book store. 

Now, Noelle is debating her options. What she should do is continue with her day and walk in the opposite direction. But she’s always been too nosy for her own good. And maybe a bit self destructive. She decides to leave the cafe and cross the street immediately, so impatient to where she’s almost tapping her foot as the pedestrian signal stays red. 

As a writer, she’s no stranger to movie moments. The scenes written in books or movies where the timing is too accurate to be real. The situation too good to be true. But after a car speeds through an orange and she can finally walk, she stops in her tracks instead, feet glued down to the sidewalk.

Because Jeremy is right in front of her on the other side of the street. Her book in his hand. And he’s looking right at her. 

The first feeling she can recognize in herself is anger. Anger at the way their relationship panned out. Anger at the way they ended. Anger at the radio silence the years following. Anger at him for everything. Angry at herself for everything. 

The second feeling is, weirdly, shame, which she’s embarrassed by. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But she feels it anyways. 

The third, and perhaps the most prominent, is emptiness. Five fucking years later, and she’s brought back to the emptiness she felt immediately after they broke up. The emptiness that the person you loved isn’t yours anymore — who maybe wasn’t ever yours to begin with. 

Before she can run, he’s already crossed the street to her. He looks naturally different as someone who you haven’t seen in five years would. But he also heartbreakingly looks the same. 

“We should get out of people’s way,” Noelle manages to chokes out. 

Jeremy laughs a bit. Her heart lurches. “Yeah.” He starts walking and she follows him wordlessly. This is his city after all. 

He leads them to a bench under a tree with beautiful fall foliage. She puts at least a foot between them as they both sit down, staring out at the people passing. She can’t take the silence. 

“I see you bought my book.”

“I did,” he replies evenly. “Congratulations. I always knew you would do it.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Maybe if she squeezes hard enough she’ll forget when she originally pitched Jeremy the bare bones idea of the exact same book that’s currently in his hand. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too. On everything.”

“You’ve been watching?”

She shakes her head. “No. But, you know Seth and…yeah. It comes up during family calls sometimes.”

“Why didn’t you say hi last night?”

She looks pointedly at a couple walking their dog. “You seemed busy.”

“She wasn’t-that-it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh. Because that makes me feel so much better,” she spits out, before taking a deep breath. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. We broke up ages ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she gives him a look and is slightly proud of how he seems to shrink into himself a bit. “I-I know it’s five years too late. I know I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The thing is, Noelle always thought that maybe hearing an apology someday would make her feel better. But now that’s heard it, she’s not sure she does. 

She swallows. “I appreciate that.”

“I’ve already read it, you know.”

“Read what?”

Jeremy runs a hand through his hair. “Your book. One of my teammate’s girlfriend recommended it and I asked to borrow it. It’s fantastic,” He looks down at the book in his hand. It’s like the cover is taunting her. “I wanted my own copy.”

“Oh.” 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me off the hook with the poems I know were about me,” he scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “You could’ve written way worse.”

She can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I thought I was pretty mean.”

“Your definition of ‘pretty mean’ is tame compared to a lot of people,” he says, mindlessly flipping through the pages of the book. “You were always the kindest person, even when you shouldn’t have been..” 

He puts his hand out in her direction, the hand with the book in it. She furrows her eyebrows. “What-”

“Could I get a signed copy?”

“Jeremy. What do you want from me?”

He sighs, taking his hand back. “A chance to apologize?”

“You’ve already done that.”

“Not in the way I want to and what you deserve.”

She lets out a sigh, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know if that would be worth my time or yours. I know the book just came out, but that was five years ago. I’m over it. Forgive and forget, right?”

“But do you?” Jeremy counters back. “Clearly, you don’t forget, which I deserve. But forgive?” 

“We’re just going in circles now.”

“No we’re not,” he says firmly. “You’re just shutting me down because you don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had five years to prepare what I would say to you if I saw you again. You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Of course I have,” Noelle tips her head back. “But also, what’s the point?”

“The point, is that I still love you.”

“Fuck you,” she says in a strained voice. “You can’t just-you can’t just throw that shit out there. Fuck you.”

He bites his lip, and to her annoyance, he laughs. But she listens more carefully, and it sounds very self deprecating. “I deserved that.”

“Yeah,” Noelle looks down at her feet. “So…what? You still love me?”

“I do.”

“And what are you going to do about that?”

“What are you going to let me do?”

“I live in Brooklyn.”

“I know,” she whips her head up. Jeremy looks sheepish, which she didn’t even think was something he knew how to do. “Seth mentioned it when we caught up a bit ago. I also still follow you on Instagram.”

She tries again. “It’s been five years.”

“And I’m here sitting with you and still feel the exact same way I did back then. Even more, to be honest.” He eyes her pointedly. “Any more excuses?”

Her voice softens. “You really hurt me.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, Noelle.”

“I hurt you too.”

He shrugs. “We were young and stupid.”

“And we’re still not?” Noelle says with a snort before swallowing. “I’m not the same person you fell in love with.”

“I’m sure I’m not either. But I don’t know if there’s a world where I don’t love every version of you.”

“Even after reading the book?”

“Especially after reading the book,” he sighs. “Noelle, I know this is unfair of me. All of this. And I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to reach out. But I always intended to. And then you’re here? And I see you twice in two days? I’d be an idiot to not try. More of an idiot than I am, anyways.”

“Try for what?”

“A second chance? To be friends? Whatever you want.” He suddenly deflates. “Even if you don’t want anything to do with me. At least I’ll know.”

“Why did you never text me?”

“I thought about it a lot,” he admits. “I tried once, actually, after the high of a really good win. But it didn’t go through. I got the message.”

“The message?”

“You blocked me, right?”

Oh. “Yeah,” she lies. “I did.” She reaches into her bag for a pen and gestures for the book, which he gives to her, a curious gleam in his eyes. “I’m in Boston for two more days, including today.”

He takes the hint immediately. Eagerly. “I have a game tonight, but I’m free tomorrow.”

“Who are you guys playing?”

“Toronto. And I’m starting. Should be a good one.”

She hums non-committedly, scribbling on the inside of the front cover. She hands it back to him with a small, close-lipped smile. She nods at him to read the message.

to my first fan, 

i still love you too. 

xxx-xxx-xxxx

yours, 

noelle

He looks up, eyes shining but a bit confused. 

“I never blocked you. I just changed my number.”

“Oh.”

“And even if I still love you, I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t.”

She stands up, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and putting her sunglasses on. “Text me?”

His mouth splits wide into a grin. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

She backs away with one last attempt at a smile before turning down the street.

[hobiebrownismygod]

Did Hobie Brown give up his mask/identity as Spider-punk? - ATSV Analysis

from @benio on TikTok ⬆️

During Miguel's speech, we see some of the spiders looking at either their past or future events, and we see Peter's wedding (past), Gwen digging herself out of her grave (future), Jess escaping rubble (unknown) and we also see Hobie looking at his canon event, which was giving up his mask and his identity as Spider-punk.

So its completely plausible that like Gwen's canon event, this is one of Hobie's upcoming canon events, where he'll end up giving up his mask later on. However, I like to think that he had given up his mask prior to ATSV for the following reason:

Hobie wasn't supposed to be in Mumbattan during ATSV

The scene in ATSV where Miles was invisibly watching Gwen talking to Jess and Lyla actually has a second deleted version. This deleted scene was similar, except instead of talking to Jess and Lyla, Gwen was talking to Miguel and various other high-level spider people.

A/N: I know this scene was deleted so it can't really be considered canon, but JUST HEAR ME OUT

While they're talking about Gwen's mistake and Spot's presence in Mumbattan, Hobie's name is mentioned (1:58).

Gwen: "He took time off"

Miguel: "Yeah because he doesn't believe in institutions, or teams. Lyla can't even find him"

Gwen: "He gave me a way to contact him"

At this part in time, prior to his introduction to ATSV, Hobie was not technically a part of the Spider Society. Nobody except for Gwen, not even Lyla, had any way to contact him.

So we've already established that people in the Spider Society usually catch anomalies or are assigned missions to do so, as being a part of the Spider Society would probably mean being willing to work as a team and contribute to the community. If you want to look more into this, @the-cat-and-the-birdie has a really cool post where they explain their views on how the Spider Society works, and I'm kind of going off on that.

If Hobie left, it would mean that he wasn't completing these missions anymore, didn't want to be a part of the community and didn't want anyone to be able to contact him about these missions or anything Spider-man related, unless it was Gwen, who he probably only gave contact information to because she's homeless and doesn't have anywhere to stay, and its been established that she stays with him sometimes.

So why did he leave?

My guess? He experienced an extremely traumatic canon event that led to him deciding to give up his mask. He was so angry at Miguel and the Spider Society for allowing this canon event to happen, that he cut off ties from the community, severed all connections with other spider-people and stayed put in his own universe, only giving Gwen his contact information.

And in this time he "took off", he began to devise his plan to wreak havoc in the Spider Society, and create his own watch. This would explain why he was so quick to help and support Miles, and why he already had watches available for both Gwen and the rest of the Spider-team to use.

The watch he gives Gwen also has the writing "Project Bootleg" written on it.

Bootleg:

the illegal manufacture, distribution, or sale of goods, especially alcohol or recordings.

Hobie already had a plan for what he was going to do. He had already created Project Bootleg to infiltrate the Spider Society himself, and Miles' interjection became Hobie's reveal.

Now to tie back to the first point I made, that Hobie wasn't supposed to be in Mumbattan during ATSV:

The rest of the Spiders were shown coming in through portals, whether it was Miguel's entrance in the beginning of the movie, Gwen's entrance to Miles' room, or even Jess's entrance in Mumbattan where the giant spider-ship came through a portal in the sky. Hobie, Gwen, Miles and Jess were even shown using a portal to get into the Spider Society after leaving Mumbattan. However...we never see Hobie enter Mumbattan through a portal.

He just appeared. But Pavitr was surprised, so there was no way that Hobie had already been in Mumbattan before, and since Jess and Lyla didn't have his location, there was no way that they could have contacted Hobie to come help Gwen fight Spot. So how did he get there?

We have a LOT of unanswered questions about Hobie. He's a complete mystery, from his backstory, to his universe, and to his place in the Spider Society. While the other members are shown as contributors to the Spider Society who all know each other, i.e. Gwen and Jess greeting the Peters in HQ while Hobie doesn't acknowledge any of them and vice versa, Hobie isn't shown having any kind of interaction with any of the Spider Society members except for Gwen and Pav. We know that he knows the other members, because Jess, Peter and Miguel know him by name, but we don't know his place in the Spider Society and we don't know what he does. This is why I think he left the Spider Society. Because if he was still a part of it, the interactions he had with the people in it would've been different. The way he acted in the HQ, his attitude, everything, would've probably been different if he actually was a part of it or even helped out in some way.

Summary, because this analysis was kind of all over the place:

I think that Hobie quit being spider-man before the events of ATSV because of a traumatic canon event. I think he lost someone or something very close to him, and because of that he cut himself off from the Spider Society. I think he blamed the idea of canon events for what happened and that he wants to help Miles save his dad and break his canon because he thinks that by doing this, he's making up for not being able to break his own canon. I think he's been planning this Project Bootleg for a while before Miles showed up and he decided Miles would be the perfect reveal for his plan and he'd use it to prove that canon events can be broken, and that what happened was wrong.

Poor guy.

A/N:

I think this HC overall would be a cool concept for fanfic writers to focus on in their stories, because I've seen a lot of stories where reader/oc was Hobie's canon event, but very few of these go into depth about what his reaction to reader/oc's death would be and how that would impact his identity as Spider-man and his involvement with the Spider Society afterwards. If you do decide to write it, tag me in it! I'd love to read your fanfictions! <3

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Nineteen

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Cuss words and a weeeee bit of angst, no Jasper tonight - but I promise I’ll make it up to y’all!

Notes: Tomorrow afternoon I’ll try to sort out the bugs with my taglist, tonight I just want to get this posted for y’all to enjoy because I had a stupid long day and Tumblr is wanting to test me for some reason.

Word Count: 2058

Series Masterlist

• January 27, 2006 • Forks HS, WA•

Reader

Bella was noticeably absent from school yesterday and there’s a rumor floating around that she had made a trip to the ER Sunday afternoon. I had texted her yesterday to check on her as soon as I heard the whispers, but I received nothing but radio silence on her end.

I was in the middle of typing her another message as I headed in the direction of my final class of the day when a hand at my shoulder stopped me.

Snapping my head up, my eyes were immediately drawn to the neat row of stitches in Bella’s hairline.

“Holy shit, what-?” I gape, worry for my best friend taking hold of me.

“I um, lost control of one of the dirt bikes, hit a rock and it got me pretty good.” She sheepishly glanced at the floor while explaining herself quietly.

“I heard yesterday you had a trip to the ER on Sunday, I was worried sick about you!” My free hand gripping one of her biceps as I lightly berated her for not texting me back.

Her eyes met mine and something in them shifted, like she didn’t expect me to be so invested in her wellbeing.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.” I suggest and tug her towards the exit to the student parking lot, “We’ve got some catching up to do.”

“Aren’t you girls supposed to be in school?” Cora, the sweet hearted waitress at Carver’s Cafe, teases us as she sets down our shakes in front of us on the bar.

“It’s just one of those days.” I give her a half smile, stabbing my milkshake with a straw.

She nods understandingly, glancing at Bella’s injured forehead before moving on to other customers.

“Mike invited me to the movies.” She blurts as she scoops off the whipped cream into a discarded dish between us, neither one of us liking the topping.

A gasp slips out before I could reign in my surprise and Bella immediately shushes me.

“It’s not like I want to go with him!” She whisper-yells defensively.

“Well, what did you tell him?” I lean forward to press her for more details.

“I said yes, but!” She holds up a finger to delay my response, “I want it to be a group thing. I can’t deal with this potentially turning into some kind of date.”

“So you want me to come to be the awkward hand-holding buffer?” I smile to myself as I stir my melting drink.

“I’m asking Jake to come too and probably some of the others from school, I just have to find a weekend when everyone is free.”

“Oh thank god!” Her look of shock causes me to elaborate, “I’m not sure I could handle thwarting his advances towards you on my own, that’s a tall order for a wingwoman against Mike Newton on a mission, Bells.”

She groans and slumps back in her seat, “This is the worst, why couldn’t I have just said no?”

“Because you’re a nice person and even slightly hurting someone’s feelings is the worst thing you could do. I get it, I would’ve done the same thing.” Sighing, I slump down in my seat too.

“It sucks being a girl sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” My head lolls in her direction as I ask her sarcastically and we both let out a giggle.

As soon as I walk in the door from my girl-date with Bella, I shoot a text to Quil:

Hey, you down for going to the movies? Bella is getting some friends together to go at some point in the near future, Jake will probably be there too.

A ping chirps from my phone before I even set my backpack down:

Absolutely, just let me know when and where Y/n/n.

I smile to myself - happy to get him out and hanging with other people, Quil has been struggling recently with Embry dropping off the map to spend time with Sam Uley. Somehow Sam is managing to dig his claws into the young guys of the tribe one by one, there also seems to be a gag order in place to not talk to anyone since Embry is ghosting us.

I just hope Jake and Quil aren’t next, I don’t think I could handle more people abandoning me.

• February 20th, 2006 • Port Angeles, WA •

Reader

This group-movie-thing has got to be the newest and worst idea Isabella Swan has ever had.

Somehow in the shuffle under the dim lighting in the theater, Jake pushed his way between Bella and I, causing Mike to snatch up the other available seat next to her before I could even think of switching sides.

Huffing, I settle for sitting in between Jake and Quil, nervously meeting Bella’s panicked eyes as the opening ads begin playing.

I lean over and bump Quil with my shoulder, “Boys are mindless beasts.” I jokingly whisper.

“And girls never shut the fuck up in movies.” He whispers right back without missing a beat, devouring the bucket of popcorn while his eyes stay glued to the silver screen.

I turn my upper body to face him with a look of shock, this fucker-

But Jacob shushes us before we could get into it. I let out an exasperated sigh and cross my arms as I settle in for the movie, fucking boys.

Ya know, last time I went to the movies I told Bella I would choose the next one.

Well, as my luck would have it, the boys beat us three to two on what to watch. Which means I’ve been left to suffer through gory after gory scene in this stupid action movie.

Cringing behind my hands as I squint, legs tucked up to my chest, Mike suddenly announces, “Okay-I think I’mgoingtothrowup.” And bolts from his chair for the exit, all of us turning to watch him run.

Bella turns to look at me questioningly and I gesture to follow him, all of us rising to leave.

“What a marshmallow.” Jake jokes as soon as we exit the theater and I try to stifle my laughter at the accuracy as we watch Mike dive for the bathroom door. “You should hold out for someone with a stronger stomach. Someone who laughs at the gore that makes weaker men vomit.”

“Yeah - I’ll keep my eye open for that.” Bella laughs, like actually laughs and it makes my heart a little happier to hear the sound from her again.

“I feel bad, he probably has that flu that’s-going around.” Bella’s voice trails off as I watch Jacob slide his hand into hers, but she drops it and twists around at the bottom of the stairs while we wait for Mike.

“What, I can’t hold your hand?” Jake’s offended tone immediately sets alarm bells off in my head and I turn to Quil, my eyes staring a hole in his chest.

“Of course you can, I just think it means something a little different.” I can hear Bella backpedaling to avoid hurting his feelings and it makes me cringe so hard I tune out their words.

Obviously this conversation needs to happen between them, but the urge to step in and come to her rescue fights my rational thought.

“Hey, let’s give them some space.” Quil whispers to me, steering me to the other side of the bathroom. Mike’s sounds of vomiting echoing as we pass and it makes me wince, poor dude can’t catch a break.

“But-” I look over my shoulder to check on my friend and see nothing but Jake’s tense back.

“I can see her from here and she’s fine.” Quil’s eyes never move from Bella, I can tell he feels the same way about their conversation.

“I knew this would happen sooner or later, but right now?” I speculate out loud.

“Jake’s always had the best fucking timing.”

“Really?” I ask questioningly.

“Of course not, dumbass - it was sarcasm.”

I punch his shoulder and he recoils from me at the same time a haggard-looking Mike Newton emerges from the men’s bathroom.

“Well, I need to go home.” The marshmallow announces, interrupting whatever was happening between Jacob and Bella on the stairs. “I-I was feeling sick before the movie. What is your problem?”

Quil hurriedly pushes me towards them, somehow already sensing a shift in the conversation.

“You, you’re my problem. Feeling sick? Maybe you need to go to the hospital. Want me to put you in the hospital?”

Quil surges past me to play mediator at the same time Bella grabs Jacob’s wrist.

“Jake! Jake-Jake, the movie is over, what are you doing?” I standby uselessly and watch as Bella tries to calm him down.

“Hey man-” Quil lays a hand on his chest to get his attention, but it fails.

“You’re really hot… You feel like you have a fever, are you okay?” I watch as Bella’s hands move along his arm, concern flooding her voice and moving her hands.

“I don’t know what’s happening. I gotta go.” Abruptly Jacob rushes for the exit, leaving the four of us dumbfounded in the corridor.

“Dude is weird.” Mike quips, but we ignore him, worried about our friend.

The car ride home with Quil was… Awkward. Jake blowing up on Mike ended the night on a sour note, but his behavior had my mind racing.

It’s so obvious he’s in love with Bella and I’m worried I might eventually find myself in her same shoes. I chew on my lip nervously as I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, too fast for it to be with the beat of whatever is playing on the radio.

Quil leans over to shut the music off, “Alright, what’s wrong?”

At first I’m not really sure what to tell him, the anxiety of having the conversation I know we need to have is eating me alive.

“I’m worried about Jake.”

“Jake will be fine-”

“No, I know that. I’m just worried about what’s going on with him.” My hands tighten on the steering wheel.

“I’m not following, Y/n/n.” His eyebrows bunch together as he turns his face to study me.

“He’s in love with her.” I glance at him for a second before turning back to the road. “And-and I’m worried that we-”

“Pull over, please.” He asks gently and immediately I begin to panic internally.

Slowing to a stop on the shoulder of the deserted road back to Forks, Quil reaches up to turn on the car cabin light before turning to face me fully, “Y/n.”

Slowly I let go of the steering wheel and face him, worried about what he could possibly unleash on me.

“You’re my best friend, plain and simple. Jake and Bella are not us, I don’t have feelings for you like he does for her.” A puff of air blows through my lips as I deflate in relief, but he grabs my hands and continues. “You’re my sister for all intents and purposes, you don’t need to worry about that.”

My breaths are a bit shaky as I come down from the anxiety high, “I just don’t want you to think I’m close to you because I’m looking for something…” I look down at our joined hands and squeeze his. “After him, I just can’t.”

Tears begin to make my vision swim, it hurts every fiber of my being just thinking about potentially wanting someone else.

“I don’t know what happened with Hale,” my breath hitches at the name, “I don’t need the details about that whole situation, but I’m not here to replace him. I don’t want to, I just want a best friend that won’t leave me.”

“That’s all I want too, I can’t take anyone else leaving.”

Quil leans over the center console to pull me into a hug and my body relaxes.

“I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers before letting go and leaning back into his seat.

Putting the car back into drive and continuing to the reservation to drop him off, a little sliver of dread worms its way into the cracks of my heart.

Everyone that says they aren’t going anywhere eventually goes somewhere, it’s like jinxing yourself with hard odds to beat - impossible.

Next

Teaser

Taglist Part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @Min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

Sorry it took so long to fix!

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

Lately, I’ve been thinking about Leon, Ada, and Claire. Especially on their relationships because I think they’re pretty interrelating so here’s another analysis made by yours truly <3

TW: mentions of mental illnesses, MY OPINION! + observations. This is strictly based on my knowledge. I’m majoring in English- doesn’t mean I’m 100% correct, it just means I’m pointing out some things that I thought were pretty cool. Take this with a grain of salt.

So I actually propose that we bring the color theory into play, mainly between Leon, Claire, and Ada.

In RE2R and in Infinite Darkness (death island too but I’ve yet to watch it), Leon is portrayed as blue. (His RPD uniform and his suit/jacket) back in my English class (film vs book) we talked about the different types of people and how the author/creator purposefully assigns a character a specific color.

By majority belief, the color blue represents sadness and often times calmness as well. However, I have a different view on why CAPCOM seems to love Leon in winter colors (blue/green/purple)

Leon is the definition of the Blue Character Theory- these types of characters are compassionate, loyal, confident, and can manage their emotions (keep it cool in other words) but sometimes these characters are prone to become over emotional (depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, etc.) and I actually wrote a small paragraph on Leon in infinite darkness about this because I found it so interesting that Leon- a cool and reserved guy, has these complicated emotions welled up inside him and one of the only ways we can tell is by the color of his representation. (Think of Euphoria and how colors really affected the way the characters act, especially Maddy and Cassie and how different they are.)

I’m also going to be hella bold and say that his eyes are a CLEAR representation on his character by color analysis. His eyes are blue, not only because he’s a white man- but because the “eyes are the windows to the soul” thing really does help us understand him better. They clearly did this on purpose to let the viewer catch a glimpse at Leon’s raw personality. His eyes are very expressive if you really REALLY analyze them.

And when you bring someone who is represented by the color red (Claire and Ada) there’s already an established connection between the two. Although Claire and Ada are way too different in personalities, I like to believe that they both have at least the same level of ambition, stubbornness and leadership. Red characters are known to lead or take matters into their own hands when the world is against them. If no one is going to help them then they’ll do it themselves.

In ID, Claire did her own investigation. She took charge and decided to that if no one would help her, including Leon, then she’ll just do whatever she can with the power she has. Ada is similar in that aspect. Ada has a way of getting things done her way, just like Claire. She uses the art of manipulation to make sure her plans are fulfilled, even if it means at the cost of others. She’s ambitious and goal-driven, much like Claire.

CAPCOM represents the two women in explicitly red or at least with red items (hair, dress, shoes, etc.) it makes me believe that they know what they’re doing when it comes to giving characters their own individuality.

Now, we know that blue and red are complementary colors based on the color wheel.

But we also know that Leon and Ada don’t really have a healthy relationship (I’ll get to this in another post near the future once I’ve got evidence) which is contrasting to Leon and Claire’s relationship. Which prompted the question: Why?

I mean, yeah Claire is Chris’s sister and by affiliation Leon enjoys her company. But it is also clear that the two of them worked very well back in RE2R (the fence scene) their chemistry and tension was high but when he’s with Ada, it seems different.

It is no doubt that Leon had/has (? I’m just as confused as bro tbh) a crush on Ada. I read somewhere from the notes on Leon that he was actually glad to have seen Ada in RE4R (not too sure for RE4OG since almost everything is about the remake)

CAPCOM purposefully follows the Red Oni/Blue Oni trope (a Japanese folk tale, shout-out to my professor for putting me on that) but what why are there two red ones and one blue one? Is CAPCOM keeping their choices open for Leon’s potential love life? I can’t say for sure what’ll happen or what everything means because this is something I over analyzed.

Remember, I’m only an English major student, I still believe my observations are pretty vague or at least a little bit underdeveloped. Hopefully sometime near the future I can make better analysis 🙏🏼

Also, tysm for all the amazing comments and reblogs 🥹🙏🏼 idk how to reply to reblogs but I really do appreciate the fact that you guys like my fics. I promise I have more to write (I have a list in my notes app lmao)

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

"Is That Okay?"

Based on this post

Roy Kent x Reader

0.8k words

Warnings: language, pregnancy, implied smut

“Fuck are you doing here?” Despite the swear coming out of his mouth, Roy smiled, his eyes tinted with confusion. He’d come in from the pitch to grab some lunch and was surprised to find you standing in the hallway. Sure, you sometimes popped by the Dog Track to see your grumpy husband when you got the chance, but you usually called first.

Heart pounding, you reached out and took his hand. “Just, um, wanted to see you.”

“Alright, fucking weirdo.” He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “You hungry?”

You shook your head. “Not-not really.” A few people walked by. “D’you think we could go somewhere, er, private?”

Roy’s eyebrows flew up. “Is that why you’re here?” he hissed as his grin turned dirty. “A fucking quickie?” With a shake of his head, he tugged your hand, dragging you in the familiar direction of the boot room, where you’d had more than a few trysts over the years.

Once he barricaded the door you walked through in hopes of keeping Will from catching you (again), Roy turned on you, his greedy hands tugging at your shirt.

“Right. So, I’ve got like twenty minutes, but I think that’s more than enough-”

“I’m not here for sex,” you blurted out, burying your face in his chest. “I need to tell you something.”

Worry quickly replaced the lust on Roy’s face. “Everything okay?” he whispered, his grip on your shirt loosening in favor of grabbing your face. “What’s wrong? Who do I need to kill?”

You looked up at him, blinking a few times as you figured out how to say it. The two of you had fallen into a deliriously happy pattern since getting married: work, time with Phoebe, Richmond matches, lazy Sundays in bed, arguing over who lost whose place in whatever book you were both reading. How could you tell him that all of that was about to change forever?

“Roy,” you rasped. “I… I…”

His eyes flickered down to your hands, which had instinctively cradled your stomach. You could hear him gulp. “Are you fucking pregnant?” His heart was pounding so hard you could practically see the thumping under his shirt.

“Is that okay?” you whispered, your face a little scrunched in worry as tears formed.

Roy’s laughter filled the boot room. “Is that okay?” he repeated as his thumbs caressed your cheeks. “It’s more than fucking okay.” His lips peppered kisses all over your face, each kiss deeper than the last. “It’s fucking perfect.” More kisses. “You’re fucking perfect.”

Those tears began to fall as you smiled up at him. “You’re happy?”

“So fucking happy.” His mouth found yours, kissing you roughly, sloppily, joyfully. “Aren’t you?” he mumbled against your lips.

You nodded into the kiss. “Deliriously.”

Roy let go of you and dropped to his knees, gazing at your stomach with wide eyes. “In there. Fucking right in there, baby Kent.” He kissed your clothed stomach and looked up at you. “Future football star.”

“Like he has any choice,” you laughed, throwing your head back and letting your hands run through Roy’s hair. “Kid’ll probably come out holding a football.”

Another kiss to your tummy as Roy laughed heartily. “That’ll be a sight, you pushing that out. Remind me to film it.”

“Oh, are you two having a baby? That’s lovely.”

Young Will stood in the doorway, wide-eyed and holding a jumble of boots. He offered the two of you a lopsided smile as Roy stumbled to his feet.

“Fuck. Always forget there’s two fucking doors in here,” Roy grumbled. He turned to Will. “Not a fucking word to any of those clowns until we tell them,” Roy instructed him, his expression suddenly that serious, scary face that the players feared (and you found adorable). “Or else those boots will find a new home right up your ass.”

Will nodded solemnly. “Y-yes, sir.” He managed to smile at you. “Congratulations, Mrs. Kent.”

“Thanks, Will,” you laughed, pulling Roy close to you. “Could you give us a few minutes?”

In a flash, you and Roy were alone again, staring at each other in the silence of the boot room. Roy’s face softened as he brushed the hair out of your face, the tender look in his eye reminding you of your wedding day. Or the day he asked you to marry him. Or the first time he said “I love you”. Or the first time you met.

“We’re having a baby,” he breathed. “A fucking baby.”

“Good job helping me make it, Coach Kent,” you chuckled as you pressed another kiss to his lips.

Intuitively, he tightened his grip on you, pressing your body to his, and deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue gently against yours. The next thing you knew, your back was pressed against the wall and Roy’s mouth was on your neck.

“Roy…” you warned shakily, knowing exactly what direction this was headed in.

He lifted his head and smirked at you. “What? You’re already pregnant.”

He had a point. And you still had at least ten minutes.

Plenty of time.