#self-matured

[possessable]

Hello i'm a normal person here's some stuff i drew to illustrate different traits different "person getting controlled" tropes can have

edit: obligatory possession shorthand code link because people seem to be using this like the possession code but just. without the code part

edit: DO NOT BE HORNY ON MY POST 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

[strangersteddierthings]

Eddie blinks. Once. Twice. And a third time for good measure. The scene before him doesn't change. Steve Harrington stands off to the side of the lunch table, behind Jeff and Frankie who have both gone still as statues like they think if they don't move, King Steve won't see them.

"Uh, what?" Eddie finds himself saying, against his own will. He heard Harrington the first time, doesn't need or want him to repeat himself, but his disbelief seems to have won out against his grudge for all jocks and his indifference to Steve Harrington in particular.

Harrington's face pinches, like he's three seconds away from rolling his eyes. He doesn't do that, though, which Eddie will give him one brownie point for. "I asked if you had a minute to talk." Eddie's taking away his brownie point because Steve 'asks' in a way that sounds more like a demand.

Hearing the question and or demand a second time doesn't lower Eddie's hackles, but it does pique his curiosity. He drums his fingers atop his lunchbox, thinking it over. He wishes he could say he's pretending to think about it before he tells Harrington to fuck off, but the truth is he actually is thinking about it.

What could Harrington possibly have to say to him? They very much do not run in the same circles. Eddie only talks business at the picnic table past the edge of the woods out back and everyone who buys from him knows that. They share several classes, since they're both seniors, but everyone knows Eddie's on a track to not graduate (again) so he can't possibly be coming to discuss Mrs. Click's homework assignment.

"Sure. Should we go elsewhere or...?" Eddie trails off, lifting a hand to wave in a circle in Steve's direction, questioning.

Steve looks over his shoulder, back towards the side of the cafeteria taken up by the 'popular' crowd. When Steve turns his face back, he looks- well, kind of sad for a moment before it's smoothed over with indifference.

Interesting.

"No. It's probably good that the rest of your friends hear it anyway," Steve answers.

Jeff's eyebrows rise to his hairline, and Frankie frowns as his eyebrows raise at the same time, showing an expression of interest. Eddie's got no idea what Gareth's face is doing because Eddie can't see him unless he wants to turn his face away, but he's certain it's probably a glare of some sort.

Eddie leans back in his chair, wiggling like he's getting extra comfortable before he says, "Well, alright Harrington. Shoot."

"I'm graduating this year, so I just wanted to give you a heads up for next year. I tried to curb the bullying, but I know it still happened. So, since I'm not going to be here to watch out for that, you're gonna wanna up your," Steve gestures to all of Eddie, "everything."

He knew Steve curbed the bullying a bit, heard the confirmation of that last year from Jason Carver and Tommy Hagan, when he'd stepped in to save Gareth. Or rather, Gareth had come flying in to save him and then Eddie had to save Gareth- well, the details don't matter really.

"My everything?" Eddie asks, more confused than angry. He thinks he should be angry. Harrington has all but outright said he doesn't think Eddie's going to graduate with him, after all. But no. The main emotion now is confusion.

"Yeah. Your, y'know, freakinesss or whatever. Be more of it."

"Be more of a freak?" It's fascinating, that Harrington just keeps talking like he thinks anyone at this table care for his opinion.

"Yeah!" Harrington says, cheery like he thinks that Eddie's agreed with him somehow, complete with a stupid snap of his fingers that turns into a finger gun pointed at Eddie. "You've already got this like unapproachable mad dog kind of look about you, most of the JV team is already scared of you. Just like, up that a bit more and they'll probably steer clear of you and your friends." Then Harrington frowns deep, looking around the table of nerds and dorks before looking down at the top of Gareth's head to add, "well. Except probably curly here. No offense, but you seem an easy target."

"Fuck off," Gareth growls, because of everyone at the table, Gareth does have the most bite. (Most bark goes to Eddie himself). Eddie's more prone to run from a problem than engage in it, unlike Gareth, who he's had to pull off of a few people this year.

"Or not," Harrington retracts his previous statement and Eddie will grant the man another brownie point, which brings the total up to one.

"Good to know my reputation precedes me," Eddie grins, wild and a bit manic.

Harrington is unphased. "Yeah! Do that more. I think it really freaks Jason out and he's most likely to take the captain slot next year, so if you get him afraid of you, the rest of the team'll fall in line and leave you alone too. I think he's super religious, so like, lean into the satanic panic thing people are up in arms about and next year will be a breeze. And-"

Eddie lifts a hand, a motion for Harrington to stop talking. It surprised him a little that Harrington does. Even more interesting. "Stop me if I'm wrong here, Harrington, but are you suggesting that I become the bully?"

Harrington's mouth opens and closes a few times before his face pinches again. Instead of looking like he's going to roll his eyes and be bitchy, Harrington looks confused and then like he's deep in thought. An uncomfortable amount of awkward silence falls over there table, but it's just when Eddie's about to break that silence that Harrington finally speaks. "No. I'm saying just like, be you but bigger. Like, you don't even gotta look in the team's direction. If you're just more of a freak than you usually are, they'll steer clear without the bullying."

"You sure know how to compliment a guy," Eddie deadpans. He's not even upset that Steve's called him a freak. He's spent the majority of his high school career cultivating that outlook. He wasn't just a freak, he was The Freak.

Now a look crosses Harrington's face. One Eddie's not sure he's interpreting correctly. If he had to take a guess, he'd say the look was calculating, knowing, in a way that Eddie doesn't think Harrington could actually achieve. Then it's gone, replaced with the bitchy, eye-rolling look Eddie's used to seeing, and Harrington says, "I haven't said anything untrue."

Hmm. The most interesting thing yet. Eddie might not be graduating (again) but he's not dumb. He didn't survive this far in his life, with a father like his, without learning to read people. He wasn't as good as he wanted to be at reading people last year, but he's definitely good enough know to think that, maybe, just maybe, Harrington also knows a thing or two about cultivating a public perception. Making sure people only see a certain side of you.

"Alright," is what Eddie answers, "I'll take what you've said under advisement."

"Uh. Okay," Harrington says before he just walks away. Conversation over.

"Well," Jeff says, "that was strange."

"Very," Eddie agrees as he watches Harrington walk away, tracking him until the cafeteria door slams shut behind him when he exits.

Eddie has always wanted to up the ante, so to speak. Jump on a cafeteria table and rant about capitalism and organized sports. He never has before but next year seems like a great time to try.

[ryllen]

x

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

AGH FASHION DESIGNER SUGURU AND MODEL SATORU W A NEW INTERN DESIGNER UNDER THEIR WING 😞😞☹️ - 🌺

WAHHHH I LOVE THIS 🥺🥺🥺 the pining and flirting and slowburn of it all… model!satoru and his favorite designer suguru geto, both of them undeniably skilled and born with an eye for fashion….. well-known and adored……..

designer!suguru who gets tasked with showing you the ropes, who’s always so patient and kind despite your inexperience. diligent with his teaching but also so laidback, so easy to talk to… he looks intimidating, but he’s so polite that you can’t help but swoon a little. and he admires your enthusiasm so much…… grows fond of you soooo quickly bc you’re just such a breath of fresh air compared to the divas he’s forced to work with all the time. he thinks you’ve got real potential and he wants to nurture it.

and ofc you end up running into model!satoru eventually…. bc he’s always hanging around suguru whenever he gets the chance. and he’s maybe a little jealous that you’re hogging so much of his personal designer’s attention, but… he also thinks you’re so cute . T_T like a little puppy following suguru around… so excited to be apart of what you’ve dreamed of for so many years……… he looks into your eyes and sees the same sparkle he had before he made it big, and it makes his heart race.

yeah . i’m just thinking abt the peaceful coffee breaks with suguru….. how he’d insist on paying for your drink, ”since he’s your senior” (he wants to be your favorite </3)…… and how he’d just be so protective over his little intern. don’t get me started on the close proximity with satoru when you’re taking his measurements, the glance and smile he sends your way during an impromptu shoot… the way he always calls for you with a sweet coo of ”how’s my favorite intern doing today?”

😔😔😔 yeahhhhhh. they make me feel ill.

[thismommyisforreal]

My dears, I hope y’all enjoy Valentine’s Day with your loved once 🥰 ❤️ 🌹

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

This isn't what it looks like.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[anders-hawke]

“I’ve always liked Lady Whistledown,” Penelope said, her chin rising until her bearing was almost regal. She looked to Cressida, and their eyes caught as she added, “And it would break my heart if it turned out to be someone like Lady Twombley.”

— Chapter 11, ROMANCING MISTER BRIDGERTON

[reiderwriter]

Margaritas and Mistakes

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive, smut coming in the next part (it's already written it just felt best to post them separately lmao).

Warnings: Suggestive language, dirty talk, some heavy petting and mention of sexual arousal. 18+ MINORS DNI

Summary: On a group night out, you get a little more drunk than you want to, and when Spencer shows up looking like the love of your life and not just your coworker, you realise that the margarita’s are having more of an effect than they should be.

A/N: Welcome back, it's my week off currently so I've been writing a copious amount of smut, so please enjoy this 3.6k word build up to more smut coming soon. Requests are still open, and you can find my masterlist here!

PART TWO!

You truly made all of your worst decisions when under the influence of alcohol. You blamed it on the fact that you really didn’t get the chance to go out all that often now that you were a full time member of the BAU Team. But the job was sometimes rewarding, and considering you’d been working on consultations all week and not a full time case, you were really looking forward to stretching your legs this friday night and getting some much needed relaxation in before you had to stare evil in the eye one more time.

“Girls’ Night Out! No male detectives, partners, Special Supervisory Agents, Unit Chiefs, OR Doctors!” Penelope cheered as you arrived at her apartment that night prior to your eventful outing.

“God I needed this,” Emily sighed, taking a sip of her drink. “I can’t remember the last time I got to kick back with a glass of chardonnay.”

“You sent me a picture of your drink two days ago, and it didn’t exactly look like water,” JJ laughed.

“Ah you see, my dear JJ, that wasn’t kicking back. That was therapy.”

“Honestly, though, it’s going to be good to get out of the house. I swear, the only places I’ve been for the last month have been my apartment and work,” you sigh, downing the last of the drink Penelope had handed you on the way in.

“What happened to that guy you were seeing, Y/N? Was he that bad?”

“Don’t even mention it. He took me back to his place and he didn’t even have a mattress on the floor, wanted us to do it on his couch,” you groan. “The couch that was also housing all of his laundry. And I’m not positive it was even clean laundry.”

You really had been having the absolute worst luck with men recently; other than your aforementioned tinder date, the only men who had shown any interest in you being serial killers who wanted to murder you and married cops looking to fool around with an FBI agent. Not the most auspicious of dating pools.

“Okay, operation get Y/N laid is a go. Ladies, your jobs tonight, should you choose to accept it, is to become the best wing-women this town has ever seen!” Penelope joked, and you found yourself giggling at just the idea, thankful that they were taking the time to try to cheer you up.

“Oh I’m all in. I’m warning you now, Y/N, my wing-woman success rate is pretty high. I’ve helped multiple couples achieve not only orgasm, but also marriage and kids.” Emily boasted.

“Emily, next time you might want to think about the wording of that one,” JJ laughed. “But I’m in too, you could use a little unwinding.”

“Not you too, JJ. You were supposed to be our voice of reason tonight.” You giggle into your cup, feeling the effect of your starter alcohol already.

“Nope. We’re having no responsible adults in our midst tonight. That’s why I’ve already arranged for our favourite Doctor to come and pick us up when the last of us falls tonight. He’s at a screening of some Indie Russian flick until 2am which is probably about perfect for our plans.”

This is the first you’ve heard of Penelope’s plans, but you’re not against it. With a solid escape route, you can let loose as much as you want tonight and know that all of your friends are fully able to have as much fun as possible tonight.

“Well, that’s the plan for us, sweetcheeks. Maybe you’ll get lucky.” Penelope winked at you with a nefariously innocent look on her face. And suddenly you weren’t quite as sure you trusted her…

–X–

After your first margarita at the bar you were still feeling fine. Sure, you were talking a lot louder than you usually did, and if you saw yourself in the mirror you’d probably start giggling instantly at the stupid, semi-permanent grin on your face, but you were feeling so relaxed that it was of no consequence.

You’d moved swiftly from Penelope’s apartment to the nearest downtown bar. It looked pretty seedy to you, and the lighting was so low you could barely make out the faces of your friends in their seats at the same table as you, but you were sure some of that was just the alcohol blurring your vision.

Your hearing though was still in top shape, which was why when Penelope asked her next question, you almost spit the drink out of your mouth, rushing to laugh.

“Okay, fuck, marry, kill, Hotch, Morgan, Reid.” She giggled as she posed the question to her teammates.

“Oh come on now, that’s not fair.” Emily laughed at the question posed.

“You’re right, I don’t know a woman alive that doesn’t want a ride on my chocolate thunder.” Penelope let out a faux dreamy sigh and took another swig of her drink.

“And marrying Reid just seems wrong. He’s like our brother at this point.” JJ points out, just shuddering at the thought.

“So we’re all in agreement? Fuck Morgan, marry Hotch and lovingly bury Reid six foot under?” Emily laughs and the other two nod.

“Nope,” is all you manage to get out before going for another large gulp of your drink.

“Well, well, well, Y/N what would you be doing differently?” Emily snaps her head around to look at you, eager for the juicy details.

“None of you are curious what the doctor is packing?” You reply, almost innocently, unaware of the many plots culminating in the minds of your friends at that very second.

“Not at all. “Nope.” “That’s pretty gross, actually.” They all seem to reply at once, but Penelope pushes another drink into your hand as soon as you’re done and gets ready to launch a counter-attack.

“Are you curious about it?” She leaves it at that, and if you weren’t so drunk, you’d have seen them all lean into you, desperate for your answer and ready to hang off of your every word. "Do you think about you and him… You know?"

“Every night,” you sigh dreamily. And you’re telling the truth. In the recent months, you’d found yourself waking up a little hot and bothered after some rather steamy midnight encounters with the Good Doctor. You’d become close to him over the few months you’d worked with him as a member of the team, but it wasn’t like you’d had a crush on him or anything. It was more like your body had an unconscious appreciation of his body. Or at least for certain parts of his body.

“His fingers are really nice, you know. And they’re big, too. Just makes a girl curious, s’all.” You down the proffered drink, hiding your remaining shame behind the glass.

“No, no, no babycakes, we’re gonna need more details than that if you’re gonna claim that you want to fuck Reid more than Morgan.” Penelope insisted, more forceful now than before.

“And what exactly does every night mean, Y/N? Something you should be telling us?” JJ wiggled her eyebrows at you and you lost it for a few seconds having a giggling fit.

“Okay, okay, it’s just… You’ve seen how he looks, right? And there was that one case three weeks back. He confronted that accomplice, and when he was about to bolt he slammed him against the wall and held him there like he’d barely broken a sweat. And you know how it is, we see Morgan kicking down doors on the daily, so I thought I wouldn’t be that interested in feats of physical strength, but my only thought in that moment was that I’d rather like him to slam…me…against that …wall.” You slowed down your speech at the end, looking up to see what looked to you like the grinning faces of three wolves staring down at their prey.

“And now I need another drink, anyone up for another round?” You squeaked out, changing the topic before any of the others could make their own comments.

–X–

Your second round of margarita’s was probably where things went irreversibly wrong for you. You’d returned to the table with two rounds of shots for all, having queued up four songs on the ancient jukebox you’d seen in the corner, hoping to entice the girls away from conversation, and it had worked.

After you’d bought the first two rounds, JJ had bought you another, and then Emily had splurged on another three, and then Garcia had rounded the hour out with one more shot, this time with sparklers attached.

So by the time you got back to your table and took a much needed swig of a drink that didn’t have to go down all at once, you were feeling well past drunk, to say the least.

But with the free-flowing alcohol came the lack of inhibition, so you really didn’t care. True to their word, the girls had been doing their best to convince you to dance with some of the guys in the bar since you’d gotten up, but truthfully none of them had enticed you.

But now, the night was running out, and the alcohol had you a bit hot and bothered, so when you felt a nice, hard body press up gently against yours, you decided to take advantage of the situation. Without looking back, you wrapped your hand around the one of his that had grazed your hips and held in there, moving your hips back and forth and beginning to grind back into your mystery man.

He was a little bit still at first, but eventually began making some slow movements along with you, and you could see the others cheering for you from a distance, Emily especially whooping from her perch at the bar.

You felt the voice lean down to your ear after a minute or so, and you tilted your neck up to hear the tall man a little better.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” He whispered against your skin, still letting him guide you through the music. Had you been sober, you’d have realised the voice was more than familiar, especially since he’d said your name, but you were not, and so you did not.

“Well, if you’re lucky, tonight I’ll be doing you?” you giggled back, looking up at the man quickly. But with the hazy lights of the bar and the copious amount of alcohol you’ve ingested, you don’t catch a good enough glimpse of the man to realise he’s your coworker.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink,” he says, when you start to pull him towards the bar, his grip on your hips tightening, accidentally pressing you back into what you expect to be his semi-erect cock, straining against your clothing.

“Oh, what, wanna take me home right now? That’s okay with me, mister.” You giggle, grinding back into him more intentionally this time. You grip his hand and try to force it up to touch more of you, utterly carefree about throwing yourself on what you presume to be a stranger in the middle of a bar.

Before you manage to, however, he lets out a frustrated groan and turns you around by your hips, forcing you to look him in the eye for a little bit longer, and all of your senses finally start working once again.

“Yes, Y/N, we’re going now. Penelope called me 15 minutes ago and said you were ready for that ride home and I can see now that she was right,” Reid leant down so you could hear him enough, but your brain was short circuiting.

You’d been grinding on your coworker. The one that had been the cause of so much of your sexual frustration for the past god knows how long. Spencer was right in front of you, and he hadn’t loosened his grip on you that much. Spencer was right in front of you and his erection was poking into you.

Really, your following actions shouldn’t be held against you in the slightest given the situation.

“Are you going to take me home, Doctor? Lay me down in bed and get me nice and comfortable?” you giggled up at the man, now enjoying the way your insinuations were making him blush.

“Y/N, you’re not being fair. We need to get the others and go,” he shot back, irritation dripping from his tone.

“Oh I’m sorry, am I being a bad girl?”

“You’re certainly being very difficult- what are you doing?” He jolted as you moved your hands to his fair, beginning to play with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“It’s softer than I imagined it would be,” you giggled again, pressing yourself forward to press a kiss against his neck.

“Okay, we need to get you home,” he panicked, grabbing both of your hands, pressing them against your sides, spinning you around and walking you back towards the other girls.

“Hello Spencer~” the girls all giggled as you approached. You struggled against his grip a little, but he kept you firmly in place, man-handling you slightly, and you practically melted into his touch.

“Who let Y/N drink this much? Don’t answer that, you’ve all been drinking the same amount, right?” He left out a frustrated breath, and ran one hand through his hair. You attempted to move again, but he’d practically pinned you to the table. Your hips were pressed into the edge of it, his hips pressed against you, forcing you up against the table in a way that should have been uncomfortable. His other hand was resting near your discarded glass, caging you in almost entirely.

“Cars out front, lets go,” he said, his jaw twitching with anger now.

“No need, lover boy, taxis are coming to pick myself, Penelope and JJ up as we speak,” Emily slurred the words, but got the idea across well enough. “You’ll just be needing to take this little kitten home and you’re done for the night.”

They were all giggling now, as you let out a childlike yay, your excitement evident on your face.

“We’ll wait and see you all off together at least, so outside now. She needs some fresh air or something,” he was practically talking to a wall at that point, but after a few repetitions, the women acquiesced and moved outside.

“Ooh, that’s my taxi, gotta go,” Garcia practically runs from you the moment you step outside, and you wave at her whilst wrapped around one of Reid’s arms, stumbling with each step.

“Use protection my sweet babies,” she shouts as she slams the car door just as her car drives away, leaving a spluttering Spencer unable to respond that he’s not touching you tonight while you’re in this state.

The taxis for Emily and JJ arrive swiftly as well, and the two soon depart with similar messages and soon you find yourself alone with Spencer once again.

“So, your place or mine,” you smirk, looking up at him and batting your eyelashes in the sweetest way you can manage.

“You’re drunk, Y/N, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Drunk I may be, Doctor, but I absolutely know what I’m saying. I’m saying I want you to shove me against a wall and finger fuck me until I don’t know how to walk anymore.”

“Goddamnit, Y/N, someone’s gonna hear you.”

“Oh you want me to be quiet? If you take my panties off and push them into my mouth maybe you could shut me up for a few minutes.”

“Get in the car, now.” You stick your tongue out at him, but hop into the passenger seat. He slams the door in your face and takes a few deep breaths before moving around and getting in himself.

–X–

Despite having the window open the entire car journey, hoping that the fresh air will do you some good, you’re still on top form when Spencer pulls up to your apartment.

“I didn’t even give you my address,” you pouted, as you tried, unsuccessfully, to remove your seatbelt.

“I memorised your file, now let’s get you into bed,” he unclasps it for you, and you use the close proximity to drop a kiss on his cheek.

“Only if you get into bed with me, hot stuff,” you wink at him and make for the door. “You know, you’re going to remember everything I said in the morning, right?” You asked him.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he muttered under his breath as he caught you just as you were about to teeter into the hedge on the shared green space. You wrapped your arms around his neck for the second time that night and stopped him in his tracks. Looking deep into his eyes, you took one of your hands and traced it gently over the side of his face and down his neck, your eyes following your fingers. He gulped involuntarily when you hit his adams apple, and you snapped your eyes back to him.

“Chances are that I’m probably not going to remember any of this, right?” You smiled up at him.

“Alcohol induced memory blackouts tend to occur in binge-drinkers whose alcohol levels have hit at least 0.16%, and further studies show that 50% of adults will experience some kind of alcohol-related memory loss in their lives, so yes, I’d say you’re probably not going to remember any of this.” He shot back, almost entirely still in anticipation of your next move.

“Good, then I might as well enjoy the moment while it lasts right.” As soon as the words were out of your mouth, your lips crashed into his, and after a beat, his reciprocated, moving over yours just as hungrily. He moved now, walking you back to your door, lips still locked in a ferocious battle for dominance, until he pinched your arm slightly. You gasped a little, ready to pull back and complain about the pain, but suddenly his tongue was in your mouth and you were back at it all over again. He tapped your legs, signalling that he wanted you to jump into his arms, and you did, wrapping your legs around his centre tightly as he finished making his way to your apartment door.

Pulling away for the briefest of moments, he pulled your keys from your back pocket, and made quick work of your door.

“Bedroom, now Spencer, please I need you,” you whimpered in his arms, pressing kisses against his jaw and neck. Unfortunately, he had other ideas.

“No. We are going to the bathroom, where you’re going to wash your makeup off, brush your teeth and change your clothes, and then you are going to get in bed and sleep.” He unceremoniously dropped you at the door of your bathroom, and you slid to the ground.

Pouting up at him, you felt the tears well in your eyes.

“No! I don’t want to go to bed yet,” you sounded like a petulant child and Spencer cursed a little under his breath when he looked down at you.

“Y/N listen to me very clearly, you’re not thinking straight. You’re way past the legal limit, you can’t consent to any of this and I’m not going to sleep with you and then have you forget it in twelve hours.” His tone was harsh, but you listened to him.

Picking yourself up off the floor, you followed his instructions and got yourself ready for bed.

“Okay, I’m all done now, Doctor,” you grumbled once you were done. You half expected him to have left you there, choosing to retreat whilst you cleaned yourself up, knowing that he’d already done what was asked of him by getting you home. But he was still there perched on your bed, and you made one last attempt to get what you wanted.

As he made his way to stand up, you used the last of your strength to push him back down again and climbed into his lap. This time though, you made no attempt to take anything further, just wrapping your arms and legs around him and burrowing into his shoulder. You had to admit, you were getting particularly sleepy now.

You let out a small yawn and burrowed further into his neck just as he opened his mouth.

“Y/N, please, what are you doing?” He sounded tired now, but didn’t attempt to push you off again.

“You said I was probably not going to remember this in the morning. That’s not going to fly with me. So you’re gonna sleep here with me and tell me everything I forgot in the morning.” You informed him.

He scoffed at you, but you could hear the smile in his voice when he replied.

“So you want me to just sleep here next to you? No pushing you against a wall? No panties in your mouth?”

“Nope. Like you said, ‘s getting pretty late and it’s been a long week, so it's probably for the best if we…” You tried to finish but your tongue was so heavy in your mouth that you just couldn’t use it anymore. You felt the warm rumble of his answering laugh of disbelief as he manoeuvred the two of you under the covers, taking the time to kick off his shoes and remove his coat and shirt.

“Sleep well, Y/N, because when you wake up I’m going to make you feel all of the torment you’ve put me through tonight tenfold.”

And he held you there against his chest as both of you fell deeper and deeper into your slumber.

PART TWO

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Tips To Become More Emotionally Intelligent

Embrace self-awareness & self-reflection: Observe how you feel, behave, and how people generally respond to your words/actions in different situations

Practice self-regulation: Learn to differentiate between your feelings and the actions that would be appropriate in a specific setting or interaction. Internalize that feelings are fleeting and non-factual. You're in control of how you respond/(don't) act on these emotions

Engage in active listening: Pay attention to what others are saying with the intent of understanding, not responding

Focus on emotional differentiation: Understand where your thoughts, feelings, intentions, and opinions end and another person's identity/perception begins

Display radical empathy and acceptance: Understand that almost all people's words and actions result from their own beliefs, past experiences, and current life circumstances/priorities. Put yourself in their shoes when attempting to understand their choices, behaviors, and times they come to you to discuss a problem, success, or major life decision. Accept that you can only control what you do. Very little of other people's actions/the world's workings are personal. Things are happening around you, not to you

Let go of your ego: View yourself as objectively as possible with the potential for improvement. Abolish any superior complex or overwhelming desire to prove your self-importance in others' lives and decisions

Remain open-minded: Question your own beliefs and opinions. Stay curious as to why you believe them to be true/authentic to you. Allow your opinions to change or have the capacity to modify your beliefs upon hearing new information. Understand your worldview and values are valid, but they're not definitively correct beliefs, just because they resonate/feel comfortable for you

Be receptive to feedback: Embrace constructive criticism as a self-improvement tool. Approach it with curiosity and optimism, not as a personal attack

Differentiate between your feelings and capabilities: Your thoughts are not facts. Remember you can do things you don't feel like doing most of the time (work, waking up in the morning, working out, etc.). Learn the difference between being a slave to your emotions and genuinely running out of energy

[diaryofnishtha]

Life I aspire to live

[candiehearts]

Living is the best revenge

Paring: Spencer Reid X Saved F!Reader

Summary: There was one rule — don’t get involved romantically with the job. It would cause more damage than good, that was something Spencer truly believed. However, a certain damsel in distress might have shift his point of view.

Warnings: Contain themes of; Kidnapping, acts of violence. Brief mentions of; near death experiences.

Taglist: Just ask to be added to this taglist.

I felt another tear fall down my cheek, while the man in front of me traced the dull side of his knife down my face. A cruel smile dancing across his face. He ripped the cloth from my mouth – allowing me to speak, but even so I couldn’t with the tremble of my lips.

“Scream for me.” What kind of sick twisted game is this? I could feel myself wanting to be sick, but I kept my mouth close. Crying silently.

“I said scream!” His voice raised, and the anger in his eyes flashed like a fury of lightning, and he brought his knife to my thigh. Ripping the skin and sticking it deep. “Plea– Please!” I cried out, my eyes burning, but not as much as the sensation in my thigh, when he ripped the knife out.

My head hanged, and I watched as the pool of blood bled off my leg. “There we go.” The cruel smile was back, and his sickly calm voice replaced the one filled with rage.

“Now, time for the finally.” My throat felt raw as I tried to beg him to stop, but he didn’t care. He grabbed the gun from his waistband, and walked behind me.

I felt the ropes, that were rubbing my skin raw, loosen. Soon after he untied each foot from the legs of the chair. His rough hand grab my shoulder so tightly – and I couldn’t even focus on that pain before I was reminded of my leg.

I stumbled – trying to find my footing, but the pain was too much. “Stand up.” His voice commanded that anger from before slowly starting to return.

By now I started to feel dizzy, from the pain, blood loss, emotional trauma. Take your pick. “I said stand up!” From the corner of my eye I saw his fist with the gun raise, his hold on my arm tightening even more. Then before I could blink, he slammed the handle of the gun onto my head.

I started to fall, but he kept his tight hold on me, and started to pull me down a hallway and then I saw a light. For a moment I thought it was heaven – but I was removed from that dream by the pulling and pain.

“Pick up your feet.”

Slowly but surely I placed one foot in front of the other, walking up the steps. When we were off the steps, and a floor above – you would think this is a normal house, and this man didn’t have a basement where he liked to torture people.

“Out back let's go.” He pointed the way to the back door, pushing me. By the time I felt fresh air hit me, I also felt blood slowly start to fall down my face, from where he hit me before.

All around us were woods, nothing else. You couldn’t even hear the crickets, but maybe that was blocked out from the beating of my heart. Scared from what could possibly be my last moment alive.

I felt him push me roughly on the ground, and even though I felt the dirt burning my cuts – I was silently grateful for the pressure releasing from my leg.

The world around me blurred, and finally focused on him. Right in time to hear the click of his gun.

“Any last words?” I slowly looked away from the blurring gun, and used the last bit of energy I had to look this bastard in the face.

“Go to hell.”

My voice cut through the night, rough, raw, most of all tired. His cruel smile turned into an pure evil smirk – and the universe had really delivered. “Gladly.”

Bang

The shot rang out, then another, and another. My eyes screwed shut, waiting for the relief of death. However instead of his gun firing off, it dropped from his hands, before his body dropped as well.

I watched as he started to cough up blood, heaving it, but that’s not what I wanted for his last moments. I felt myself push, and craw to his body.

I saw his eyes focus on me, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “In your last moments, everyone, everyone, can see you for who you are. Even yourself.”

He coughed more blood out, and I saw him start to look away, but I wasn’t done. I felt my body move on instinct. I gripped his chin as hard as I could – making him see me.

“Pathetic.”

I felt someone grab my shoulders, pulling me away from him. “It’s alright. It’s over.” I focused in on the man, and silently pleaded. “I want to walk out of here.”

“Okay, alright. Wrap your arms around me.” I did as told, and pulled myself up, while he picked me up. Once on my feet – I felt myself start to fall to the ground again.

Instead of pulling, pushing, or dragging, I felt his embrace stop me from falling. And even though I was practically dead weight – he kept me up right.

Black dots started to fade into my vision, and a happy thought drifted into my mind. I outlived him, even for a minute – I won.

“Hey, hey, listen to me – focus on the sound of my voice.”

I felt his hand cradle my face, he was warm, and his hands were soft. “The medics are here. I’ve got you, I’m here.”

“Let me die.” I choked out to him, pleading for my misery to end. However I didn’t get an answer, at least not one I heard before I felt myself being placed on a stretcher.

The last thing I saw before it all went black was the burly-ness of red, blue, and white lights.

3RD POV

Spencer felt your blood dry on his hands, during the ride to the hospital. He had always made a point to not ride in the ambulance with a victim, let alone wait for an update at the hospital.

He should drive back home. He shouldn’t be here waiting outside your room, when he should sleep – before he has to work another case.

However this case has really struck him, he had seen so many innocent lives ruined at the hands of killer sadistic psychopaths, but the look of utter despair you had on your face before you blacked out struck him.

“Let me die.”

Your voice echoed in his head, a broken plea. And despite how much he didn’t want to admit it but when he saw you, you were so utterly beautiful. You had mascara falling down your face, along with blood coming from an open wound that no doubt gave you a concussion. Your bottom lip was busted – and you couldn’t even walk.

That didn’t matter though. Because he saw your strength, your resilience, and it pained him to hear at the very end, right when it was over, that you wanted to give up.

So maybe that’s why he’s here. Silently staring at the ground during the late hours of the night. Visiting was over – but he gave the lame excuse that he was FBI and needed to be with you the second you woke up so he could ask questions.

“Dr Reid.” He felt his head look over to the nurse, and she made a small tilt of her head, a gesture for him to come inside now.

His body felt heavy as he raised himself off the chair and walked into your room. You didn’t bother to turn your head to get a good look at him. Instead you just looked off to the side, your gaze unfocused because even though you were physically in the room, your mind was in that basement.

“Hello, I’m Dr Reid.” His voice felt tired, but that was nothing in comparison to yours. “When can I leave Doc?”

“I’m actually not that kind of doctor, a common mistake.” He cleared his throat before trying to put on a more professional voice. “I’m with the FBI behavioral analysis group. Can I ask a few questions?”

All you would have to do is say no, and he would immediately back off, but if you did he didn’t know if he could actually leave you alone.

“What do you want to know?” Your throat felt better, you were more hydrated, but it was still raw from all the screaming you did.

“Did you know the man who attacked you?” His face flashed into your mind, his cold eyes, and evil smile. “No. What’s his name?”

You finally turned your head to look at him, and instinct took over as he reached his hand out to slightly hold yours. “Elias Green. He tortured and killed three more women before you.”

“I survived. He’s dead and I’m not.” The room was quiet, and pure grief and anger took over your voice. “So why does it seem like he won? Why is he ruining me beyond the grave?”

“There’s not many people who know what you're going through.” You felt Spencer slightly trace one of your fingers. “But, the reason he’s haunting you, ruining you, is because you're just as dead as he is – and you need to find a reason to live. Not survive.”

Spencer knew what it was like, to be tortured – even when your torturer is dead. The only reason he was able to breathe again was simply because he had found it in him to stop surviving, and instead live.

After all, living is the best revenge.

“Are there any other questions you have for me?” You wanted this interview to end and yet, “No, I can leave if you like,” you didn’t want him to walk away.

“Stay.”

With that simple command Spencer pulled a chair closer to the bed, and held your hand throughout the night, and silently slipped out early in the morning when your parents came to check up on you.

Every night you felt Spencer’s presence. Everytime you wake up from a nightmare – he was there to comfort you. Then you were released from the hospital.

The first week out you didn’t see him, and to be fair you didn’t expect to. Despite how much you would love it. You never gave him your number, or even your address, email, the list continues.

He had no way of contacting you, and you didn’t expect him to. However it was taking everything in him not to use the number Garcia gave him.

Spencer was already working on another case. One that when he had finished he felt exhausted. Yet he could feel the piece of paper with your number on it, burning in his pocket. A constant reminder of you.

He shouldn’t get involved – it’s a bad idea. A mantra he repeated in his head. A loop, one that everytime he heard he resolved grew less and less.

Just how bad could it be?

Should he initiate contact? What if you wanted nothing to do with him? Surely you were trying to block out every aspect about what happened – him included. Right?

He walked into the flower shop, and he had decided on pink roses. They symbolized; admiration, gratitude, and budding romance.

“What’s the note you want on them? And where should I ship them honey?” His fingers felt for the paper in his pocket, and right under your number was your address. One he repeated, as he silently hoped that this chance he was taking wasn’t going to blow up in his face.

A knock at the door pulled your attention away from the book you were reading, a record playing faintly in the background.

Placing the book onto the couch beside you, you made your way to the door. You made sure to look at the peep window before you felt yourself reaching for the gun you bought. You kept the gun by the door, and a taser by your bedside, and another in the kitchen.

You cracked the door, keeping your arm hidden from the man – the man who held a bunch of flowers.

“Special delivery.” You silently grabbed the flowers, muttering a small thank you before quickly closing the door. Making sure to double lock it.

You placed the gun down when you saw his van drive away, and then took the time to appreciate the flowers.

They smelled amazing, but what took most interest was the note placed in it.

“Pink roses: Symbolic to budding romance and admiration.

703 - *** - 4074

— SR”

A smile graced your lips when you read the initials. SR. Spencer Reid.

Grabbing your phone you felt a slight flutter of excitement, yet nerves as you dialed the digits.

“Hello, DR. Spencer Reid.”

“Budding romance huh?” You felt your nerves vanish at the sound of his fumbling.

Spencer knew you would get the flowers today, but yet he had convinced himself you wouldn’t call.

He felt heat rise up his neck as he silently cursed himself for dropping his pen — causing ink to fly everywhere.

“Hi. Hi. I uhm.” He silently hit his head on the table as he thought of what to say. “Unfortunately uhm is all I got.”

You couldn’t help the light laughing leaving your lips as you decided to put an end to his misery.

“You know my address — how about I take you out to dinner? Call it my thank you for saving my life.”

Reid didn’t know what came over him, but he felt his inner Derek come out.

“Or we can call it a date.”

“It’s a date.”

Navigation — Rules/Main Masterlist

Spencer Reid Masterlist

[kucka-g]

look at this baby proudly prancing around with his bomb

[thismommyisforreal]

I wish you a nice day and looking forward to the weekend fun 🤩

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[ayanathedork]

i just know these bitches freaky asf !!!!!

[suslucicek]