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[eowynstwin]

peristalsis - ii.

selkie!soap x reader. depression. suicidal ideation. strangers to "lovers." . Running away from life to the Scottish Hebrides, you meet a man who won't leave you alone. . Masterlist. Ao3.

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You sleep long enough that, when you wake up, you have enough energy to cry.

It’s a big one. The kind of cry that threatens to turn your throat out, with how hard you sob. Alone in the cottage, far away from anything resembling civilization, you wail like wounded animal, choking on your own tears and mucus, losing track of your body buried underneath the covers—

But it happens at a remove. You watch yourself implode from someplace deep inside, not entirely sure why it’s happening at all—but long past trying to figure it out.

This is how it’s been for a while. There’s nothing special about it anymore. Nothing urgent. Most of the time, you are a blank space of a person, a vacuum where joy or rage or fear should be, but occasionally some maelstrom or another kicks up to fill it in, and your only course of action is to ride it out until it ends.

You’ve stopped trying to fix it. And you’ve stopped hoping anyone else can, either.

So you cry, until at last, you’re empty again. Or you’re too tired to continue. The difference is negligible, but functionally irrelevant. Once it’s done, you get out of bed.

The pressure in the shower is as weak as Johnny reported, but the water is indeed warm when you turn it on; you stand naked under the flow, arms hanging at your sides.

The day stretches itself out before you with nothing to occupying it, just as you’d planned. Nothing to work towards; no effort to put forward. Nothing, thanks to your choice of locale, to feel guilty about not seeking out.

A day of peace and utter quiet.

Suddenly—violent banging, somewhere in the cottage. It startles you; you jump so sharply at the noise that you smack your wrist on the soap caddy attached to the shower wall. The banging comes again—annoyed, you realize with no little bemusement that someone is at the front door.

You wrap yourself in a towel and hobble out of the bathroom to answer it, a piece of your mind on your tongue, dart-shaped and ready to fly—

Of course it’s Johnny.

Johnny, big and burly in a sweater, kilt, and pelt once again, two paper cups balanced in one large hand and a grocery bag hanging from the other. Whose dark brows shoot up his forehead as his eyes travel with surprise, and blatant appreciation, down the dripping length your body.

“Well, good mornin’, bonnie,” he purrs.

“What,” you grunt. A cold breath of wind chooses that moment to force its way through the door, gasping across the shower water still running in rivulets from your hair to the rolled edge of your towel. Goosebumps erupt from your bare skin in millions of simultaneous pinpricks—you flinch bodily at the chill.

“Ah, hell’s bells, don’t just stand there,” Johnny says, following the wind. “It’s freezin,’ go on, let me get in, hurry.”

You let him step inside, for some reason, and he shuts the door behind him with the heel of his boot. He wastes no time after that, heading to the kitchen to set down his things.

“Brought breakfast!” he says cheerfully. “There’s this bakery on Barra I thought you’d like, fresh doughnuts and coffee. Dunno how you take yours, but there’s sugar in the pantry and cream in the fridge.”

“I don’t want breakfast,” you say.

“What? ‘Course you do. I’m no’ takin’ you seal-watchin’ on an empty stomach.”

He starts unpacking the grocery bag and setting things on the counter while your jaw hangs open. Several things occur to you to say—I never agreed to that and what the hell is wrong with you, for starters—but your stomach growls at him before you can. The aroma of fresh-baked pastry wafts through the kitchen when he opens one box, and he turns to grin at you, cheeks dimpling.

“Do you get dressed, bonnie,” he says. “It’ll still be here when y’get back.”

It is less polite than he perhaps intends it to be, given that his gaze travels appreciatively across your bare shoulders. You cross your arms fruitlessly over your chest and, nothing else for it, retreat to the bedroom, feeling his eyes on you the whole way.

You return to the kitchen after having pulled on wool leggings and the same fleecy sweater from the day before. Johnny, one hip set against the counter, has a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and a half-eaten cruller in the other, crumbs at the corner of his mouth.

“Got anythin’ heavier?” he asks around a chewed-up mouthful. “Gets cold out there.”

You look down at his bare calves, broad and taut and covered in a down of dark hair. “You seem alright.”

“I’m used to it,” he says, shrugging—the muscles flexing under your gaze.

You purse your lips. “I don’t have anything.” You hadn’t intended to leave the cottage overmuch.

You approach the counter. Johnny does not move a centimeter, forcing you to stand close as you pick through the two boxes of doughnuts and feel the body heat radiating off of him, displacing the scent of fried dough with his musk.

“That’s all right,” he says. You’re close enough to hear the way his voice hums deep in his chest. “I can keep you warm.”

You snatch a plain glazed from the box and take two very large steps away from him. The hair on the back of your neck lifts as you press against the sink behind you. If he notices your reaction, it doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest—he lifts the cup to his lips and drinks, eyes sliding closed with simple, obvious pleasure, dark lashes curling against his cheek.

You take the brief respite from his gaze to stare at him. In the morning light, on a full night of sleep, you can almost believe that whatever you’d seen in him yesterday had been nothing more than a misfire of exhausted synapses. An overlay of a dream; a circadian prompt to rectify nearly seventeen hours of sleeplessness. You’d been cold, and tired, and hungry. That was all.

You bite down on your doughnut, not really tasting it. The nerves along your spine twitch and contract around the memory of his flashing gaze.

His eyes open again, and he smiles at you. “Good?” He flicks a look at the single bite you’ve taken, looks at your mouth, and then waits for your reply.

“It’s fine,” you grumble. Then, “How did you get here? I didn’t hear the truck drive up. Do you live close by?”

“Sometimes,” he says. He looks pleased that you’ve asked, that you’re interested at all, and you immediately regret inquiring. “Live on a boat, me. Moored in the cove right now.”

“A…boat,” you say.

“Aye.” A wisp of dark hair, something he must have missed when he gelled his mohawk this morning, flutters as he nods. “Nice and cozy. Not as grand as all this, mind.” He gestures around with coffee and doughnut at the less than five hundred square feet of the cottage. “But it’s still a sight nicer than some other places I’ve slept.”

He’s likely hinting at his military service. “Okay,” is all you say, unwilling to entertain it.

He smirk—undeterred. “We’ll take her out once you’re ready.”

“I never said I was going.”

Dark brows lift. “Got somethin’ else planned for today?” he asks, incredulous, as if he never imagined you wouldn’t want to hang out with him.

“No, I—”

You wrack your brain. You have no intention of explaining to this complete stranger that the last thing you’d wanted to do, when you booked this trip, was really anything at all—and in fact, you hadn’t even considered that that might be something anyone else would care much about.

Much less proactively address.

“No,” you repeat, sulking.

Johnny considers you, chewing. His eyes do not stray, this time, to places they don’t belong; but there’s an insight to them. A sharp awareness. A perception in his gaze that is just as undressing, as if whatever is going on with you is visible to the naked eye.

“I figure,” he says, slowly, as if to coax, “you put your wee shoes on, an’ I’ll pack this back up, and we take it along.”

“You don’t have to do this,” you grouse. “I don’t need you to, like—be my tour guide.”

“Aye, but that doesnae mean I don’t wanna,” he retorts, smiling.

He shoves the last bite of cruller in his mouth and gazes patiently at you as he works it with his jaw, the muscles flexing along his temples as he chews.

Exhaustion, your constant companion, stares you down alongside him. It would take so much more energy to fight him than to go along with whatever he has planned. Energy you just don’t have anymore. And going along doesn’t mean you have to pretend to enjoy yourself—it’s not like you care enough about Johnny’s self-esteem to conjure up a happy face to show him.

You can go, and be a bitch about it, and once you do maybe he’ll realize you’re not at all worth the effort he’s making, and then finally leave you alone.

“Fine,” you say, which is how you end up on a fishing trawler headed south toward, ostensibly, a colony of breeding seals.

It’s an old vessel—that much is obvious. Its edges and corners are dull with the passage of time and constant maintenance, scuffed by innumerable passes-over with cleaner and cloth. Mildew competes with the aroma of fresh varnish as Johnny leads you onto the bridge, which is mercifully closed in from the ocean wind.

The interior is mostly wood of a warm, orangish variety—you can’t tell if that’s a decision made with aesthetics or function in mind. The space comprises a kitchen, surprisingly well-appointed with a stove, sink, countertop, and fridge, and a small sitting area with both couch and booth seating. Surrounding windows allow in the grey light of the morning.

“Bought it off an old bloke on Lewis,” Johnny says, taking his place at the wheel, which is in a little alcove off the kitchen.

If you’d thought steering a boat would have curtailed his chatting, you’d have been wrong—he seems to have no trouble with that and talking, incessantly, at the same time, as he pulls the vessel away from the cove and into the open water.

“All his family moved to the mainland, he told me, an’ this is after generations fishin’ these islands, even makin’ it through the Clearances! No money in it anymore, he said, not like you could make in some office somewhere countin’ someone else’s money.” He checks something on the dashboard in front of him, but it doesn’t distract him for long. “Held on for a while, but people just kept leavin,’ an’ he was gettin’ too old to go out on his own. Got such a good price on it, I think he was just happy someone else was gonna take up the tradition.”

“Did he sell you the cottage too?” you ask, and then dig your nails into your wrist for encouraging him.

“Yup,” he says. “No one else wanted it, but me? I saw somethin’ special about it.”

He turns to smile at you—no doubt pleased you made the connection. You avert your gaze.

“Imagine someday I’ll have my own family here,” he continues. “Good place for it. Nice and slow, not like city living. Can hear yourself think out here. Perfect place to have a few wee ones.”

“If people stop leaving,” you mutter.

He turns to you again. “I’m no’ worried about that,” he replies. He’s still smiling. “You came here, after all.”

You have nothing to say to that.

The trip is a short one—Johnny brings the trawler alongside an island he informs you is called Mingulay, a square mile smaller than Vatersay’s tiny dot in the North Atlantic. Unlike the latter, he says, this island has not been inhabited since 1912, and has been completely reclaimed by the ocean and its wildlife.

After he drops anchor offshore, Johnny disappears down a steep flight of stairs below deck, which he had not offered a tour of, and emerges a short time later with a large, bulky coat.

“Didn’t I tell you?” he says proudly, holding it out by the shoulders. “Here, turn ‘round.”

You pause in the middle of reaching for it. You don’t know exactly why you comply—it occurs to you that if you grabbed for the jacket, he could simply not let go of it, and you would end up exactly where he wants you anyway. So you lower your arm and, resigned, give him your back.

He steps up behind you. Warmth pours off of him, more than you think any human body should be able to generate.

You hear him inhale, deeply, as he brings the jacket to your back. As you slide your arms into the sleeves, you feel his exhale on the nape of your neck, teasing through individual follicles of hair.

“There w’go,” he murmurs, much closer than you expected.

You can hear the low hum of his voice in his chest; his hands linger on your shoulders far longer than they need to, heavy, big enough that his index fingers brush along your collarbones.

When his hands make to slide down your back you step away from him and fumble to zip the jacket up; he chuckles lightly behind you. When you turn to face him, his lips are curled—smug.

“Alright then,” he says. “Let’s get out there.”

He rows the two of you to shore in a small kayak, two pairs of binoculars in your lap as you huddle away from the wind. You’ll be walking to the haul-out, he says—getting too close to the breeding grounds, which he calls a rookery, would spook them, possibly causing a stampede.

“It’s grey seals we’re gonna see,” he explains as the two of you pick your way across the rocky landscape. “Not the biggest haul-out you could see, some colonies get into the thousands, but we’ll have it all to ourselves.”

He insists on taking your elbow every time the two of you cross particularly uneven terrain, even though you don’t need it. You think he takes your attempts to shake him off as proof of your lack of balance, because he grasps you all the tighter every time.

“I’m not a child, Johnny, I can walk on my own,” you finally snap at him.

“Just bein’ a gentleman, bonnie,” he replies nonchalantly. He does not let you go.

As you get closer, you hear the seals before you see them, and when their voices reach you across the open island, you stop dead.

Groaning, grunting, hissing in a cacophonous chorus. Some part of your hindbrain double-takes, reshuffles itself—some ancestral instinct always on the lookout for predation. If you’d been given a chance to guess what a colony of mating seals might have sounded like, you’re not sure you could have guessed what they sounded like.

Certainly not like what you hear now—

Like people.

Johnny grins at you when he notices. “Aye, it’s a right ruckus, innit?”

He leads you up a small rise, where he has the two of you settle belly-down over the machair to overlook the wedge of rocky coast that the colony has claimed for its own.

And when you finally see it—it’s underwhelming.

Perhaps two hundred long, fat bodies, in varying shades of brown and grey, lay indolently along the rocks, in groups of three or four, some heavily galumphing from one place to another while others roll occasionally from side to side. The shifting winds catch their scent and blow it uncaringly into your face; you nearly gag at the admixture of dead fish and ammonia.

It doesn’t escape you that this is a rare thing to witness; you are not wholly immune to the fact that you are only a hundred meters away from something most people only encounter on a screen. It’s just that without a swell of awed music in the backdrop, or a narrator’s breathless wonder at the miracle of pinniped life, what’s left for you to observe is a population of wet, stinking animals, shitting where they lay, vocalizing without cease while they laze about doing basically nothing.

Johnny does not seem to notice your disillusionment; he hands you one pair of binoculars, and directs your attention to activity along the shoreline. You follow to where he’s pointing; one larger seal is hassling a smaller one, which snarls at the aggressor as it thrashes around with its substantial bulk.

“Little one there—” Johnny says, “that’s a female, probably obvious. Big one knows she’s ready to mate, can smell it on her.”

The female bares her teeth and lunges at the bigger male, which flinches back but holds his ground.

“Doesn’t look like she agrees,” you mutter.

“She’s just givin’ him a hard time. She’s all in heat, see? Just makes her cranky,” Johnny says. You feel his eyes on you, and lower your binoculars to look at him. “She’s got to fuss to feel all in control.”

You flush. “Right.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No,” you say. “He’s—he’s just bothering her.”

He gazes at you for a moment, contemplative. Corners of his mouth quirking upward. He does not reply for a long moment, long enough that you have to avert your gaze from his.

“Nah,” he finally says, and you don’t think you’re imagining the low, sultry note in his voice. “She wants it bad as he does.”

You scowl, uncomfortably perceived, and return your binoculars—the pair is still facing off, gurgling and growling at each other. The female is slim, almost sleek, unlike most of the other seals populating the rookery.

“Is she sick?” you ask.

“Hm? Oh, no, she’s alright. The mums lose a lot of weight when they nurse. Takes three weeks, and they don’t eat in the meantime.”

“Jesus.”

“Be nice if the dads ever brought ‘em a bite, aye?” Johnny agrees. “Deadbeats, the lot of them.”

The two of you survey the colony in silence for a moment. As the morning wears on, the cloud covering thins overhead, allowing cool sunlight to filter through. The temperature doesn’t rise in response; begrudgingly, you tug Johnny’s jacket a little tighter around you.

Then, suddenly, his hand lands on your back, between your shoulder blades.

“Got some pups over there,” he says. “Look, by the kelp.”

You find them; smaller bodies, white dinged with wet sand and dirt, lounge near their mothers or wriggle with aimless difficulty. They’re fluffy and round as plush toys, with shining black eyes and noses, and once Johnny’s pointed them out you can differentiate the higher, sweeter pitch of their cries from the overall cacophony.

“Sometimes,” Johnny murmurs, “search and rescue’ll get called out because someone thought they heard a baby crying. Some kid stranded or lost, right? Turns out to be a baby seal.”

“That’s kind of scary,” you say.

“Aye,” says Johnny. “Always makes me think that’s where the old legends come from, about seal people or mermaids.”

A small ways away, some of the mothers lay with their pups far into the surf, letting the waves break over them. You watch as one mother thunks her large head overtop of her pup’s as the water rushes toward them; the pup wriggles, and then, as the wave engulfs them, it begins to thrash, whipping up a panicked froth.

“Time for swimming lessons already?” Johnny muses. “Seems early.”

You’re horrified. “She’s going to drown it!”

The hand still on your back pats you consolingly. “Just watch,” says Johnny.

The wave reaches as far up the shore as gravity allows, and then begins to recede. The pup’s thrashing calms as the air meets its face once again; the cow allows the pup to lift its head, and after a few sputters, the pup seems no worse for wear.

“They’re hardier than they look, bonnie,” Johnny says.

His hand, heavy and warm even over his borrowed jacket, slides down from your shoulders to your lower back, and then he rubs, slowly, side to side, as if to comfort you—but the knobs of your spine contract at his touch.

“Last of the births this season, looks like,” he says. “Mum’s getting ready to leave—probably not the only one.”

Something hard drops into your stomach.

“They leave their babies?” you ask.

“Aye. Once they’re done nursing, they mate, and then they go.”

You look back at the other cows with their pups. One baby has its muzzle to its mother’s belly, quivering and suckling, while she lays with her head on a patch of grass. She looks uninterested—more, she looks disinterested. As if how voraciously her pup is nursing has nothing much to do with her, and she’s bored of even having to think about it.

Bored—and already looking forward to the next part of her life without a baby in it.

“That’s horrible,” you say.

“They’re solitary animals, bonnie,” Johnny says, not ungently. “The only time they’re really all together is for this.”

A line tightens between your stomach and throat, and you feel it start to build between your ribs. A tremor—foreshocks. The wind picks up, bringing a sharp chill off the ocean and up the rise that cuts into your stinging eyes, abrades the naked skin of your hands and the exposed part of your neck.

When you look through your binoculars again, you wonder how many of the pups you see have already been abandoned.

“Aw, bonnie,” Johnny says. There’s a kind of pity in his voice that has your hackles raising.

“I want to leave,” you say, yanking away from his touch and shuffling down the incline. “Take me back to the cottage.”

“Bonnie, it’s okay!” Johnny protests, rolling to his back to look at you as you stand. “The pups make it, they figure out how to fend for themselves.”

You glare at him, vision blurring. “All of them?”

Some part of you knows you’re being irrational—knows that nature is a cruel home, and that many children face worse fates than the seal pups. Abandoning the young, the needy, is no aberration; it is, in fact, far more the standard than the human practice, which lingers for decades—

Most of the time.

Johnny has no response. He holds your angry gaze, brows drawn low, mouth pressed into a thin line. It’s the first time that cocky aura, which seems to rest in every fine line on his face and every angle at which he holds his body, is completely absent.

He isn’t reflecting your anger back at you, though—he’s internalizing it. Letting it hit him, you think, and trying to use it to figure you out.

You do not want to be figured out.

You scoff again. “Take me back,” you repeat, and then you start walking in the direction you came, without waiting for him to follow.

Johnny drops you off in the cove, and thankfully does not linger this time before he departs—he bids you farewell after rowing you to shore, contemplation on his face, and then leaves you to yourself.

You retreat, seeking the cottage’s empty quiet.

As you perch on the couch you listen to the radiator hum—the wind blow over the reeds in the thatch roof—your own heart beating a drum in the arteries of your neck.

Percussive. Quick and hard. Like heavy knockers on a door. Pounding as if to burst through.

You realize you’re still wearing Johnny’s jacket, and you throw it off, disgusted with yourself. You get up and pace, and try to ignore it lying in a heap on the floor.

You do something you swore you wouldn’t do the moment you set foot on the island—you turn your phone back on.

True to Johnny’s word, there’s no signal. You picked this island, this part of the world, for a reason; for the past several years, a slow exodus from the British isles has vacated the need for dedicated cell towers or satellite or internet access, especially given that the only ones who remain are too old now to want it or need it or know how to use it.

It’s isolated. Cut off. Left behind by anyone with better options, and only clung to by those trying to preserve the only way of life they know.

Some kinder part of you belongs with that demographic; the part that was telling your mother the truth, before getting on the plane.

The rest of you holds your phone up and starts walking around.

In the furthest corner in the bedroom, you find a single bar of signal. A tiny chip of connectivity—a thin, frayed thread. Something you lied to yourself about cutting.

It’s a weak connection. Unstable. It could take a while—you stand there, waiting.

The screen dims. You tap it again.

Blank.

You unlock it, look through your apps. Wonder if maybe your notifications are bugged by your new SIM card.

Nothing—

No one.

You whip around and, with a cry, pitch the thing at the far wall—it hits the stone with a crunch, falling to the floor in pieces.

You’re out of the cottage then in a mad dash, door slamming behind you, driving yourself back into the wind. Far away—you want to be far away, far from everything, so far that nothing could possibly reach you. You trudge down the path toward the beach, banding your arms across your chest, shivering in the cold, and yet you hardly feel it.

Not worth it. No point. Waste of your time. Energy. All of it. Stop trying. Stop wanting. Nothing. Nothing. You want nothing.

You’re halfway down to the shore, not really knowing what you’re going to do when you get there, when you catch sight of a body on the sand.

You gasp, a sharp breath down your larynx, and freeze in a dead halt.

The body is completely still.

A swimmer? A diver? It’s dark, like it just pulled itself out of the ocean—or washed up—

Then, it moves. A twitch, a ripple across its bulk, and your chest rapidly decompresses.

A seal. It’s a large seal, lounging alone on the beach.

You stand motionless. You’re very close—much closer than you and Johnny had been at the rookery. You hadn’t contended with the sheer size of the animals, tucked safely up and away from them, but there is no illusion of distance now.

It’s the biggest one you’ve seen today, you’re sure of it. Bigger, you think, than most adult men. Its pelt is a riot of every shade of grey, splashy, like liquid paint thrown across a canvas. Black speckles scatter overtop of marbled white and cool slate, and down the center of its back is a broad, dark line, soft at the edges, which reaches all the way up to the top of the seal’s head.

The bull—it must be male—turns over. It lifts its head, and opens its eyes—

Fear suddenly zips up your spine as it looks right at you.

You stumble backward and trip on your own feet, landing hard on your ass. Johnny’s care with keeping enough distance from the colony rushes back to you, along with the warring couple’s bared teeth.

They can’t move that fast on land, right? They aren’t interested in people, right?

You scramble backward. It’s so much bigger than you ever would have imagined. If it got to you—threw itself over you—it could crush you with its weight alone—

The bull watches you placidly. Unperturbed.

You pause.

Its small eyes are dark and glossy—watchful and focused. The whiskers on its muzzle twitch a little as it takes you in. It breathes, deeply and evenly, huge body expanding and contracting at a slow, calm tempo. Its—his—nostrils flex, widening and narrowing, as he blinks docilely.

Unafraid.

If anything—curious.

Then he snorts, and wriggles in place. It startles a laugh out of you, more reaction than humor. Still watching you, the bull lowers his head back down, resting it again on the sand.

Your heartbeat abates. He doesn’t move again—nor does his attention leave you. Slowly, you sit up.

Wary. No sudden movements.

He doesn’t react; only continues to watch you.

You draw your knees up. Wrap your arms around your shins, and dust a bit of sand from your leggings. Rest your chin in the crevice between your knees.

There’s an intelligence in the bull’s eyes that is fathoms deep. There is a massive gulf between his experience of the world and yours, millennia of evolution separating your species from his—and yet…as you hold his gaze, you recognize the look in it.

Him, seeing you. And seeing you see him. The pendulum swinging between awareness of each other, and recognition of that shared awareness.

An empty space in the cloud cover passes overhead; sunlight touches the earth, warms it briefly before disappearing again. You wonder a little why this bull isn’t with the other seals.

Johnny would probably know.

“I didn’t come for you, you know,” you grumble at him.

The seal blinks. Awareness notwithstanding, you don’t share any language.

You sigh. “I guess you didn’t come to see me either,” you say.

But you don’t move away.

And you stay like that for a long while, you and he—regarding each other as the wind breathes out across the shore.

next chapter early access

a/n: follow for more seal facts™

Also huge thanks to Lev for trawler listings/info. Didn't explore it much this chapter but Soap's boat will show up more soon :)

[specialized-rexan]

cookim_mama

Fluffy sourdough discard pancakes 🥞

The BEST sourdough discard pancakes. Seriously these are the only pancakes I will ever make now. Not only is this a great way to use up discard but I truly believe it adds lightness and flavor that you just can’t get with regular ones. Am I suggesting you should get into sourdough baking just for these pancakes? Absolutely😉

I’ve included non metric measurements too (they don’t have to be exact). Adjust liquid and flour amounts based on how you like your batter consistency. Tip: I have found that discard from starters made with part whole wheat flour or any other non-white flour makes the pancakes taste even better

Recipe makes 5x7” pancakes: 25g butter melted (1.5 tbsp) 150g sourdough discard (3/4 cup) 180g all purpose flour (1.5 cups) 300g buttermilk (1 heaping cup) 6g baking powder (1.5 tsp) 5g baking soda (1 tsp) 20g sugar (1 tbsp) 2g salt (1/2 tsp) 1 egg

1. Combine all dry ingredients in a bowl 2. Combine all wet ingredients in another bowl 3. Pour wet ingredients into dry and mix until no dry spots remain. Do not overmix 4. Heat a non-stick pan over medium-high heat. Lightly grease 5. Pour some of the batter onto the pan. Cook for 1-3 mins, then flip once you see bubbles and the edges begin to round. Cook the other side for another 1-3mins until golden brown 6. Serve with your syrup and your favorite toppings!

Fluffy sourdough discard pancakes (x)

[wttcsms]

crownview country club ✦ one shot collection

welcome to crownview country club, one of the most premier country clubs in existence. whether you're savoring a round on our championship golf course, enjoying the serenity of our world-class spa, or indulging in gourmet dining crafted by our award-winning chefs, crownview provides a retreat like no other. as you navigate the greens, let the warmth of our renowned beverage cart girls, affectionately known as the club's crown jewels, enhance your experience. these girls are dedicated to providing exceptional customer service, and are here for your every need, on and off the course. alternatively: you — young, sweet, naive you — think you just won the jackpot by securing a job this summer break as a beverage cart girl at a country club you can't even dream of ever joining. how unfortunate that you just didn't know what types of customers you'd have to service and how far the club's "above and beyond" approach really extends...

ᝰ.ᐟ a nsfw longfic one shot collection featuring a sweet, vulnerable reader + a different archetype of customer who will always hold the power in this dynamic

✦ meet the regulars ✦

the new owner aka satoru gojo warnings power imbalance, dark content, degradation, extortion, misogyny

you're good at your job. you're hardworking and never let your smile slip off your face, even when the customers get too handsy or too condescending with you. you don't mess up orders, and you always maintain the position that the customer is always right. but with this new regular — who's arrogant and mean and downright nasty — you're not sure how long you can keep up with your fake smiles around him. little do you know, he's making a game of how far he can go before you break. oh, and that little stunt you pulled? where you tried to report his "awful behavior" to your manager? that was cute. really cute. but as the new owner of this country club, there's no one that can do anything about whatever he does. he owns this place, and by extension, that means he owns you.

the classmate aka kiyoomi sakusa warnings dark-ish content, manipulation, possessive behavior

attending your dream private college on scholarship comes with a lot more challenges than you anticipated. for starters, you don't fit in with any of your classmates and struggle to find friends. your scholarship covers tuition, and that's about it. while your peers are off on vacation, you'll be spending the summer break trying to save up enough money to cover rent and basic living expenses. it's shaping up to be a boring summer, until you keep running into one of your classmates: he plays on the golf team for your school, and apparently, he just can't get enough of the sport... or you.

the corporate powerhouse aka tetsurou kuroo warnings dark content, praise kink, degradation, dubcon, slight fear play, misogyny

one of the worst groups of men to encounter on the golf course? definitely the men who work in corporate. the ones who conduct client meetings on the course and definitely contribute nothing beneficial to society. to them, employees of the establishments they frequent are no more than "the help", but when you're a pretty young thing, whipping out the pitiful broke college student story, you end up sparking the interest of a ceo with a major savior complex.

the soldier aka caleb warnings age gap, size kink, possessive behavior, dark-ish content

forced to take a break from his special forces team, this soldier is restless and struggling to acclimate back to regular society. his old friends keep dragging him to their weekly golf meetups, but he can't see the appeal. that is, until he meets you. sweet and soft, the exact opposite of everything he's had to encounter these past few years, you are exactly what he wants — no, needs — in order to properly enjoy civilian life.

the not-so secret admirer aka yuuta okkotsu warnings yandere, babytrapping, obsessive&possessive behavior, dark content

you're used to rich guys who are major jerks, and as one of the wealthiest members of this club, you're certain that he must be no different. but then he surprises you; he is different. where others are cocky, condescending, quick to remind you of your place (beneath them), he's kind and a little bit awkward. shy, and always apologizing, worrying that he's bothering you. he's sweet. you like him, but maybe not as much as he obviously likes you. first comes the insane tips, then the extravagant gifts (that you're not allowed to refuse), and any resistance on your end has him revealing a colder side to him, an almost scary side, that frightens you into agreeing with whatever he tells you to do. he's so rich because he never gives up, and never takes no for an answer — and you'll learn this lesson, too.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Jamaai Ghar Aaye ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

Summary: Lando and you go back home from your honeymoon. You hadn't realised how much your parents had changed in that short period of time.

⤑ ln x desi!reader 𔓘

⤑ fluff 𔓘

masterlist ☾☼

marrying lando had been a dream come true. it was something you hadn't expected, but god, you were glad it happened.

now, after not only getting married, but being back to india, to your city after your honeymoon really made you realise just how real the relationship was. the two of you had planned to stay in india for a week with your family, before going to monaco. lando had to begin with his training soon, and you had to get back to work. it worked out well for you.

standing just outside the airport, you quickly spotted your cousin's car, and the two of you dragged your bags over. your cousins stepped out, hugging the both of you, and put the bags in the trunk.

lando and you climbed into the back seat, where you rearranged the bags to sit in the middle, closer to where lando was against the window.

he immediately wrapped an arm across your shoulder and you leaned into him, holding his hand, enjoying the way your red bangles clinked against each other. he pressed a distracted kiss against your temple, his attention on the people outside as your cousin made his way out of the airport pick up and drop.

"so, how was the honeymoon?" your cousin in the passenger seat asked, turning from his seat.

you brightened up, and leaned forward to tell him all kinds of stories. your hands moved animatedly, and every now and then, lando chimed in with a part that you missed.

"are you pregnant yet?" your cousin asked.

your cousin in the driver's seat coughed loudly as he tried to hide his laugh, and you glared at him. smacking your cousin's arm, you said, "what kind of question is that?"

"what? the only reason you can have sex is if you're trying to get pregnant!"

lando laughed, "mate, how many kids do you have?"

"shut up! i don't have sex that often!"

"sure you don't," your husband responded, still chuckling.

"hey, stay out of my sex life!"

"you stay out of ours then! no no, better yet, stay out of your baby sister's sex life, unless you want me to tell you all about how i made her c-"

"no, no, no, no shut up! i don't want to know! i don't care! stop talking!"

everyone in the car burst out laughing. serves your cousin right.

all four of your phones buzzed at the same time, and you checked the notification. your mom was asking in the family group if you and lando were on your way yet. quickly clicking on the camera icon on whatsapp, and setting it on selfie mode, you snapped a picture of you and lando making goofy faces.

sending the picture, you let your family know that you were about five minutes away. all you got was a thumbs up in response.

tuning back into the conversation happening in the car, you realised that your cousin from the driver's seat was talking.

"there's a full daawat at home,"

"what's a daawat?" lando asked you softly.

"it's like a full meal. multiple types of starters and main dishes and desserts. that kind of thing," you responded, just as softly.

"why is there a daawat?" lando asked, his question directed towards your cousins. the confusion was obvious in his voice, and despite him slightly butchering up the pronunciation of the word, you still appreciated it.

your cousin looked at lando from the rear view mirror and smirked, "jamaai ghar aaye hai,"

before lando could ask, your cousin parked the car in the allotted parking space, and the four of you got out of the car.

lando fussed around with the bags, insisting on taking out all the local sweets that he had handpicked from your honeymoon.

"baby, we can give it to them once we go inside,"

lando shook his head, already holding the pile of boxes, "no. we gotta give them now. what's that thing you say when you buy chocolates or a bottle of wine or something when we go to someone's house?"

you bit your lip, trying to hide your smile as you said, "khaali haath kisi ke ghar nahi jaate?"

"bang on," lando said, and walked towards the front door.

your cousins followed behind him with the suitcases, grumbling about their weight.

before you could even reach the door, your parents stepped out, arms wide and smiling. seeing them instantly filled you with joy, and you opened your arms as well to hug them. your parents sidestepped you, and hugged your husband, taking the boxes from his hands and dumping them in your open arms, as they quietly chatted for a bit.

you frowned, and watched as your husband leaned down and pressed his hand to your parents' feet before touching that hand to his chest.

well, at least sanskaar acche sikhaaye hai tumne.

your cousins laughed behind you, but you ignored them.

settling the boxes, you greeted all your aunts and uncles, and you joked a little bit with your cousins as well. you kept a watch on lando from the corner of your eye. he hugged and laughed with the entire family, and you couldn't help but notice how much attention he was receiving.

it made you happy. of course it did.

when your aunt called for dinner, you insisted that lando begin with his meal while you freshen up a bit to get rid of the flight feel.

picking your bag and walking to your room, you began winding down. changing into fresh clothes, you tied your hair, removed all your excess jewellery, washed your face and did your short skincare routine.

once you were done, you walked back to the dining room, and slowed down at the scene in front of you. lando sat at the head of the table, his plate filled with different delicacies. your entire family were surrounding him, offering him more food, and feeding him if required.

with a frown, you sat on the other end of the table, where your cousins sat, talking amongst themselves.

you began serving your plate, and every time you asked an aunt or uncle for a particular dish, they gave it to you without even glancing at you, and it only made you frown more.

as you ate, you watched the special treatment your husband was receiving from your family.

"what the fuck is happening?" you asked lowly to your cousins.

they looked at the scene that you had been watching. your mother was forcing gulab jamuns in his mouth, and you could tell lando was loving the attention.

your cousin sister snorted, "isn't it obvious? jamaai ghar aaye hai,"

you scrunched up your face as you watched all the gulab jamuns vanishing, and silently wished you had taken two beforehand.

sighing you said, "i miss when i used to be the favourite child,"

your cousins laugh, "it always ends up being the jamaai,"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

@partiallyderived this is for you! i got this idea a long time ago when we were talking about your dad basically seeing lando as his son-in-law. baba maan gaye ismein bhi ;)

lemme know what you think of it! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry

[brianquinnlvr]

𝐁𝐅𝐁, 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

SUMMARY you've had a crush on your best friends older brother for at least three years now. but he's always been so far out of reach that the thought of the two of you together just sounded wrong to others. for starters, he's three years older than you. and while that isn't a problem now that you're 19 and hes 22, which is not illegal, it was always a problem at the beginning of your crush. another bump in the road happens to be the fact that you're a pogue, and not just any pogue, john b routledge's twin sister. it wasn't necessarily his distaste for pogues though, it was more of a reputation thing. but after a party one night, maybe he can put his reputation aside.

rafe cameron x routledge!silly!reader 💌

au where he's not a murderer and he + sarah have a regular sibling relationship 🫡 also smau, along with irl

warnings: suggestive, slight age gap

series masterlist

you sat at the edge of your bed, scrolling on your phone as you awaited the arrival of the cameron siblings. you'd never been the type to be any form of secretive about a crush, in your eyes, there was other fish in the sea. if you're not madly in love with them, then rejection isn't that big of a deal. but rafe cameron rejecting you would be absolutely humiliating, considering you were so delusional about him that you qualified for a padded white room and possibly even a straight jacket. and well, now that you know he's aware of your crush on him, you are not looking forward to seeing him.

so as you hear the honking of rafe's truck, you jump slightly, pinching the bridge of your nose and exiting your room, making your way into the living room where your brother john b was. "farewell jb." you spoke. he sat up from his spot on the couch, leaning over to look out the window with furrowed eyebrows. "did sarah take rafe's truck?"

you sighed, sliding your converse on. "no, rafe's taking us." you grumbled, pulling on the laces of your shoes and tying them. "this is the only time i've ever dreaded seeing rafe cameron." john b chuckled. "good luck." 

as you stood up and gathered yourself, you turned to the door, calling behind you to your brother as you opened it. "thanks g. be back soon!" you didn't wait for a response as you exited the home. a smile erupted on your face as you made eye contact with sarah through the windsheild of rafe's truck, waving and jogging over to the vehicle.

you climbed in the back seat, sitting in the middle. "hi sar-bear." you said normally, in an effort to put up a front that you didn't care about the whole rafe knowing you like him thing. it wasn't really the fact of him knowing, but more of the fact that you seriously genuinely never had a chance.

but.. now that he knows, whats the harm in flirting? "hey beautiful." you said to rafe, to which he sighed through his nose. "hi yn." he grumbled, putting the car in reverse, his right hand going to the back of the passenger seat to help himself turn around, and god did he look good.

you were going to open your mouth to address his slutty actions, but you decided against it, silently sitting in the back of the truck until you pulled into the parking lot of the mall.

you and sarah unbuckled your seatbelts and began climbing out, ready to thank rafe for the ride but you paused as you noticed him getting out. "what are you doing?" you asked, eyebrows knitted together. he shrugged as you climbed out. "what? thought i was gonna drive all the way here just to drop you off? i need new swimming trunks anyways."

great. just what you needed. not only did you have to have an awkward car ride in the presence of the finest man alive being aware you thought he was the finest man alive, but now he'd be walking around the building with you—or at least you assumed, saying a silent prayer to yourself that he'd wander off alone.

he didn't, though. but he didn't really make his presence unbearable, either. he didn't say much—like at all. he did separate himself once or twice, also never really directly talking to you when he did choose to open his mouth. until sarah saw one of her old friends from highschool, that was. obviously, with you being a pogue, you did not go to the kook academy. so when sarah ran off to greet her friend that you'd never seen a day in your life, you stayed back, sipping on the auntie anne's lemonade with an h&m bag sitting in your hand, along with a bath and body works bag

last week you'd worked overtime at the wreck, so you figured you'd treat yourself with the extra money. though everything was insanely expensive these days, so you didn't get much. "so..." you mumbled at an attempt to break the silence. you were gonna follow up with something about the weather, or whatever it is people like rafe talk about. probably stockmarkets or something. but you couldn't help yourself from flirting just a little. i mean look at him, anyone who can control themselves around rafe cameron has the self control of a literal saint. "be honest, you only came in to be in my presence."

you wanted to say something a little more unsettling like 'hows that dick', but you managed to keep a bit of dignity. obviously you knew he was absolutely not there for you, but you did not expect him to play along. "you caught me." he said, his lips pressing into a thin line. 

you chuckled softly. "it's okay, don't be embarrassed. i'm used to guys being obsessed with me." you continued jokingly, eyes trained on his insanely beautiful face. "oh i'm the obsessed one?" he asked, his buff arms crossed over his chest as he tilted his head slightly, a very slight smirk on his lips now. "cus... if i recall correctly, you're the one who has sexual fantasies about me."

your cheeks burned bright red, not expecting him to bring up the message from earlier. you played it off by rolling your eyes, but it was clear to him that you were embarrassed. it gave him a sense of accomplishment. he couldn't explain it, but making you flustered felt nice in way.

thankfully, sarah walked up before the conversation could go any further and get any more awkward. "hey guys." she said with a smile. "sorry, old friend from highschool. what store next?"

you shrugged, knowing your budget was getting low. "theres a new shop over on the other end of the building. kie went recently, she said i'd love it." sarah smiled, beginning to walk in that direction, noticing the slight blush on your cheeks and the smug state rafe seemed to be in, but she chose to ignore it. "lets go then."

the walk to the shop was short, you and sarah talking about random things while rafe still followed silently behind, his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts. the moment you entered the store, you knew you'd be coming back. 

your eyes immediately landed on a pair of dark denim shorts with a pretty floral pattern embroidered on it that reminded you so much of adrianne lenker's album cover for songs and instrumentals. you rushed over to them. "oh my god i need these immediately." you looked at the size, seeing they were your size. "this is fate. hallelujah thank you god." you said in a more humerous manner, going to look at the price tag. your smile faltered a bit as you saw the price tag, and you sighed, placing them back on the shelf. "okay, nevermind, apparently god hates me."

you always struggled with money growing up, but rafe and sarah were apart of one of the richest families on the island. i mean, they lived in the tannyhill mansion for fucks sake. sarah was your best friend, so you knew she'd absolutely never judge you for your financial state being so different from her's, but you were still ashamed of it. you were so different from her in so many ways. and obviously you were even more embarrassed with rafe there, who you'd flirted with a mere 5 minutes ago. it wasn't getting you any closer to getting in his pants, thats for sure.

sarah giggled softly, picking them back up. "it's okay, i'll sugar mama you." she winked. you smiled at her. "well thank you, but i'm not letting you buy me a $32 pair of shorts." she dismissed you with her hand. "don't be silly, yn." sarah reached for her wallet, opening it, and her smile was the next to falter. "shit. i don't have enough cash left and i forgot my card on my desk. i promise i'll come back and get them when my car gets done later."

you were the one dismissing her with your hand now, making a "pssht." sound. "its okay sar, i don't need them. i'm serious. i'll come back and get them when my next paycheck hits." she sighed. "fine. but only because ward put me on a limit until i get a job anyways." 

you chuckled, making your way to the vinyl section of the store, shopping through. you caught a glimpse of rafe in the corner of your eye, unable to resist yourself from looking at him as you turned your head, not even trying to hide the staring. he was standing at the place the three of you just were, seemingly shopping through the woman's clothing right there. 

you sighed, assuming he probably had a girlfriend or something that he was shopping for. rafe absolutely never posted on social media, and he was also never really at any parties or bonfires anymore. he was so mysterious, and it unfortunately made him a million times hotter.

after a moment, you went back to shopping through the vinyls and conversating with sarah about some of the albums you'd found. it wasn't long until you were climbing back into the backseat of rafe's truck with sarah shotgun. once rafe climbed into the drivers seat, instead of immediately turning on the car like you'd expected, he turned to you and handed you a bag from the store earlier. you furrowed your eyebrows, grabbing the bag cautiously. "whats this?" 

he turned back and started the car, beginning to drive. "i bought you the shorts. now you don't have to spend your next paycheck on them." he shot you a smile through the rear-view mirror then just went on about his day. "well thank you." you said softly, looking inside of the bag. "hot and thoughtful. how am i your only current bitch? against your will, too."

he rolled his eyes, but you could see the small hint of a smile on his face. it was like he was purposely trying to make himself look more boyfriend material than he already did.

v speaks: hi this was lowkkkkk ass but its just cus its an intro part i'm sorry like i have nothing from a previous part to build off of or anything��� ill be better #swear also im shaking in my boots i havent published any writing since 2023

[katerinaaqu]

I agree it is closer to modern Greek too to mention the translation of the word "xanthos" as "blonde" but ancient greek colors are not always so cut and clean so oftentimes it means just "fair haired" or "blonde" or can be "reddish" or "auburn" till reddish brown. Basically it is a factor that means "shiny" on occasion so I guess it is up for interpretation although yeah in modern Greek there is no doubt that "xanthos" means "blonde" but ancient Greeks loved to make even our lives difficult! Hahaha! Not at all. Proteus and his prophecies are a very interesting kick starter plot. He was even told on the fact that his brother died and that he might hurry back to offer his respects in time (plot twist he never did) but it is also different from source to source! Hehe but yes Proteus basically spilling the beans! XD

Yeah calling it a "dream" is like I guess a bit far fetched but one can also say it was "a vision" or something. Either way it seems to be vague enough at times for people to not have all information but barely enough to go by. And it is Menelaus's stay in Egypt that is elongated too that might add to the vagueness. Given how he later traveled back to his homeland (at least the version of the story that Euripides takes for his own play as well although of course Homer doesn't FULLY elaborate on the fact) to get to offer his respects to his brother's tomb before coming back to Sparta. At that time in-between his return many things in theory could have changed or mentioned. Oftentimes of course you need to consider information as plot devices. Menelaus is not revealing it to us because the information was insegnificant before or because Menelaus was inconsiderate. It is offered to us now because the trip of Telemachus was important to the plot (I had made a small analysis in the past) and we are only in the Odyssey just now. The viewer has heard before on Odysseus being trapped and wishing his return so now we have the confirmation so the listeners can hear it again. In one way it is like "for those who arrived just now to my performance, here is where Odysseus is, we'll get back to him later" Of course from modern point of view who is used to go to the cinema and watch one film this seems obsurd and one can say "why couldn't you just say so?" but if you think of it as a moving performance outside where people gathered up to listen to someone and more and more get added up in one way we can see why it is repeated there. In this way both Telemachus gets the important plot device to go to Sparta and get information on the war and the horse etc which the viewer gets but also pitches in more people and tuns them in the plot.

Hhahaha no problem at all I definitely see where you come from. Ancient Greek texts in general and Homer in particular are very expressive. But honestly I do not see it THAT much different let's say than Dreamworks Sinbad when Sinbad gets emotional and says to Marina "we dreamt to join the navy together and defend our country together!" like I see it as a very strong feeling of closure but I definitely understand where you come from and many people who make that joke! Hehehe it is always a shock to discover ancient texts isn't it?

Yeah he did hehehe and arguably he never was the sharpest knife in the box either but for sure the whole thing was already overwhealming enough especially the way that his life was settled up (Menelaus and his brother were even exiled because of Aeguisthus and they were struggling to get their kingdom back then the whole Helen business happened and they went away from home at a war for a decade and then they quarreled and the last thing they said to each other before separation was undoubtedly cruel words and then he found out the tragedy and all. The dude didn't have much slack either hahahaha)

Hahahahahahahahaha right?! Lol

You are right that is definitely a logical assumption but of course one could say that one vague piece of information is equally harmful because it increases the agony without easing much the information. Menelaus heard from Proteus he was prisoner before. Was he still prisoner? In one essence the family also had the prophecy that Odysseus would come back in 20 years (which was also what frightened Odysseus and tried to avoid the war altogether) so in one way the family HAD something to go by. Just set the clock to 20 years and he will be back! Hahaha the thing is again the vagueness of prophecies or information didn't help much either. For starters "20 years" is also a phrase that simply could mean "way too long" so people didn't know and even if they did after so long they lost hope. Even if it WAS predicted for Odysseus to be back eventually they just lost all hope regardless of the prophecy so a vague piece of information wouldn't help either. They held hope for 7 extra years after the end of the war was reported. When Menelaus finally got home after 7 years as well that roused suspicion that Odysseus wouldn't come back and if the prophecy was still in to be fulfilled then they assumed that "20 years" simply meant "too long" and that if he came back after way too long he would be useless as a king anyways because of his age. Or rather what if the "he will come back after 20 years" meant as a corpse? Hard to tell hahahaha but when Telemachus called upon the council and the new prophecy came that Odysseus would return, still didn't do much good either. Telemachus was still not perfectly convinced, Penelope was as depressed as ever and the suitors didn't pay attention to the prophet.

As for Telemachus not kicking them out sooner that is not possible for many reasons. One he was not of age of maturity yet (Odysseus left an order to Penelope to rule in his place until his son grew a beard and then he would rule back), two even if he had started his quest sooner that wouldn't have changed anything for Odysseus still would come back after the 20 years were done. In fact the plot was set so nicely thick that the trip of Telemachus happens at the same amount of time that Odysseus tells his story and comes back to Ithaca so when Telemachus comes back, he finds his father waiting and the two of them join forces to get the suitors out of the palace. Telemachus arguably didn't need to leave that specific time out of the palace because Menelaus didn't grace them with a warning sooner but because it was time for Odysseus to return and Telemachus would meet his father away from the palace in a quiet place AFTER he too had explored around. In one way Telemachus having heard the random piece of information that at some point his father was prisoner in one place wouldn't change that plot.

Telemachus for once needed confirmation that Odysseus was his true father and he needed to hear more than just that. Otherwise they had the vague prophecy of his return to go by. He needed to escape from the toxic environment of his home while being removed from danger and the trap of the suitors AND at the same Time Odysseus was set to return home. Homer could easily have made Telemachus say that "I heard once upon a time a friend of my father's saying that he is trapped somewhere" but the atmosphere wouldn't massively change. The songs the bard was singing were also giving vague informations on the returns of others and the sad fates that befell them and yet the idea of melancholy and worry never left anyone. And yes you are absolutely right. Him asking him in person was much more impactful, we get to see Menelaus in person AND on top of that the cognitive trip of Telemachus matches the cognitive trip of Odysseus.

Hope any of it makes sense! ^_^ Calling me a scholar is definitely an honor! I would consider myself just an enthusiast at this point given how despite my university education never have I had the chance to use it in an extensive degree! ^_^ Oh not at all! Hahahaha I believe everyone can tell it was a joke and a sarcastic remark like everyone makes those! It is great to keep things moving which is why I tried to reply in a more light-hearted manner as well! But you certainly opened a wide field of amazing conversations and very valid questions!

Telemachus is so much stronger than me for real. Cause if I had traveled for days, by sea AND land, arrived at the palace of my father's friend and my mother's cousin to humbly ask if they know anything about my missing father and instead of just fucking telling me already, this mf started a monologue about how gay he is for my dad and about the time he captured a God that granted him wishes three, I'd already be telling him to Hurry The Fuck Up. IT'S BEEN TEN YEARS, I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY.

But if the same motherfucker then turned around and told me that he had known FOR YEARS NOW that my dad is trapped on an island AND THE MOTHERFUCKER DIDN'T TELL ANYONE!!!! NOT A SINGLE LETTER!!! I would have already strangled Menelaus with that fucking blond hair of his in front of his wife and children, unhelpful son of a bitch.

[multiheadcanons]

REQUEST: TF2 MERCS AND FOOD

scout: okay, we’re gonna breeze past all scout knowing is twerk be bisexual eat hot chip and lie. we’re gonna hold that space, and now we’re gonna move on. scout can cook a bird like a son of a bitch. he can roast a turkey like nobody’s business. he cannot cook anything else. he has successfully made a turducken. heavy handed with the pepper. master spatchcocker. he puts like no effort into it and the bird just snaps. he’ll cook when he’s pissed at medic so he can cut up bird carcasses and tell him his doves are next. really, he’ll eat anything. except sushi. he hates the texture of raw fish.

soldier: he keeps an emergency stash of MREs in his room. normally not allowed in the kitchen. is allowed on the grill. he will use a thermometer when he cooks meat. no american is above salmonella. he is kind of picky, but doesn’t complain since he’s normally not cooking. he doesn’t like soups. doesn’t like anything too soft, really. he would like to work for his calories.

pyro: NOT ALLOWED IN THE KITCHEN. NOT ALLOWED WITHIN TEN FEET OF THE GRILL. CHASE THEM OFF IF SEEN IN THOSE LOCATIONS. pyro has not been, is not, and will never be willingly allowed near the cooking areas since the base fire of ‘74. nobody likes to talk about it. it was a bad day for everyone involved. if pyro begs, they might get to mash garlic. pyro genuinely only knows twerk be bisexual eat hot chip and lie. pyro LOVES spice. the hotter the better. willingly eats ghost peppers raw. and, contrary to popular belief, pyro hates sweets. doesn’t like the taste of sweet and how it coats their mouth. a sweet treat is very rare for them. they like a good pumpkin pie, or a nice sweet potato if they absolutely need something sweet. even fruit sometimes is too much. they like kiwis and pineapples because they sting a little. allergic to carrots

demo: demo is a master of meat. butchering, trimming, dressing, marinating, seasoning, roasting, frying, baking, pan searing. any way in which meat could be cooked demo can and has cooked it that way. once tried to cook a pork roast with a bomb. came back with soldier and tried to cook another one with a rocket. he is a scientist, and he likes to play with his food too. hates sour stuff. he can feel it in his eye socket. otherwise not picky about food. loves blueberries. hates raspberries. tries weird food combinations for his ratatouille moment. will physically fight anyone for the last piece of pizza.

heavy: soup master. cooks for twenty seven every time it’s his turn to cook. has a crazy mental catalogue of every soup known to man and can make a different soup every time. also is the one who knows exactly what is in the fridge at all times and when it will expire. resident grocery shopper with snipes. his job is to have the list prepared so all snipes has to do is take the list and not deviate. it takes them about a week of planning everything down to the budget. not very good with meats, but he can get it cooked. just may be overdone. sensitive stomach, can’t just eat garbage and be fine. there’s something about watching him read and absentmindedly eat grapes as he does so. forces pyro to eat fruit. like chases him around with an apple. his dedication from nutrition came from medic. he found the science behind it interesting, and thinks that caring for your body is one of the best things you can do for it. insane spice tolerance, but he hates spice. get this man on hot ones. his favorite spice is coriander. he likes saying it.

engineer: engie is a master at some good comfort food. he remembers his mama, god rest her soul, telling him as a young boy if he likes to eat he better like to cook. and buddy, does he love to cook. can make a sourdough starter from scratch. his favorite meal to cook and eat are chicken and dumplings. everyone fights for the chicken and dumplings. everyone begs him to make the chicken and dumplings. he’s so extra, he shapes the dumplings into hearts. like his mama used to do on his birthday. everyone eats that shit up they love engie when he’s in the kitchen. always willing to learn a recipe for someone, and the designated chef for birthdays. everyone normally wants the same thing on their birthdays, so it’s a fairly easy job. killer cornbread maker. medic once begged him to make an eggs benedict. he’d never tried before, but gave it a go. it came out pretty okay!the doctor would’ve appreciated it if everything were burned to a crisp, though. he was desperate.

medic: NOT ALLOWED IN THE KITCHEN. NOT ALLOWED WITHIN TEN FEET OF THE GRILL. KILL WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE IF FOUND IN THESE AREAS. medic should never be allowed in a kitchen. he’s messy, he’s chaotic, he enters and exits a room in whirlwinds, his hands are normally bloody. is has a basic grasp on cooking. pretty okay on the grill, but after the base fire of ‘74 he and pyro got banned. not picky at all, just has foods he likes more than others. has tried human meat in a taco. he didn’t mind it! a little too tough for him. might make a better burger. he likes to play in food too much to be given the responsibility to cook. he can help if he wants to, though. normally he brings alcohol and that’s his contribution to team dinners. a good bottle of wine or a 12 pack of beer. loves the concept of edible flowers. he and pyro will ruin a meal by demolishing that shit in edible glitter. please keep them out of the kitchen. he loves a good eggs benedict but he’s the only one who can consistently make hollandaise sauce and properly poach an egg. and he’s not allowed in the kitchen. so the days of the benedict of eggs are gone. eats sauerkraut out of the jar.

sniper: kitchen and grill bodyguard. will fire a warning shot once before headshotting the Banished. past that, you didn’t hear it from me, but snipes is a phenomenal baker. he‘s got a kiss the cook apron. he’ll only bake if he’s the only one in the base. the team will come back from whatever they’re doing to fresh pastries. warm bread. cookies baked to perfection. then he walks in and goes “oh, who did all of this” and the whole team won’t know. but as he watches them dig in, it warms his heart a little. he wishes that they would stop groaning when they ate though, he’s pretty sure they’re not that good. heavy is the only one who has intuited that it’s sniper making the pastries, but sniper doesn’t know that he knows. he keeps the secret though. resident grocery shopper with heavy. his job is to get them in and out of the store as fast as possible with no room for impulse buys. he and heavy are the only ones with enough discipline to resist going over the budget. lets heavy get the produce while he sprints for everything else. their record time is 30 minutes excluding checkout. brutal shopper. will casually move your cart, and you, to get what he needs. sometimes he will begin it with excuse me. but he’s not on the clock. he is trying to get out of there as fast as possible. has also tried human meat. not bad! he’d eat it if he had to.

spy: of course spy knows how to cook. he’s great at it. but do you think he’s actually cooking? he’s only in that kitchen when it’s fend for yourself night, and he does not show pity. yes he does make ratatouille. has a very refined palette. unless he himself is sick. then he’ll literally drink bath water if he can keep it down. once cried when eating a soup heavy made. it was the best thing he’d tasted in his life. keeps a snack basket and carafe in his room so he doesn’t have to be seen in the kitchen. loves some spice, but has a low spice tolerance. he’ll still eat a chili raw. he’ll never admit it but he loves getting to try everyone else’s cooking. it fascinates him, at least if they’re decent cooks. feels a little bad he’ll probably never get to try medic’s cooking. he’s sure the man knows his way around a bratwurst. jam and marmalade connoisseur. his favorite is orange. will literally moan over a good croissant and jam. loves his french breakfast of a croissant, a coffee and a cigarette.

[metashard]

robots in disguise

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

extra 2: the wedding “you said i do, and i did too”

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur @thelightknight21 @ellehoops wc: 4.4k notes: lots of requests for this one 😩☝️ also yes i used the same banner as the proposal one shot and no i dont care. anyways this is just the wedding but i promise i have not forgotten the other requests: 1) teammate interactions/jealousy and 2) their kids, i'm just breaking these one shots down so i can get more out faster when biology isnt making me want to kms. they will be out eventually but the next fic i write will probably be based off of 'come around' by lisa curtis sooo keep an earhole out for that 👁️ not proofread bc i have 31 assignments due by the 24th. sorry for yapping but pls enjoy 🫶

FEBRUARY 8, 2029

After making their engagement official in November, Tess and Paige packed up their lives in LA and Dallas respectively, spending time with their combined families while negotiating with the Valkyries and trying to find the perfect realtor and the perfect house. The both of them knew they basically had a done deal with the Valkyries, which is why they weren’t all too concerned about jumping the gun and searching for the house in the bay they’d been talking about for months. They’d managed to narrow their search down to two houses, both having the right amount of bedrooms, bathrooms, ample outdoor space, a spacious kitchen large enough to fit their future family (and to handle the chaos of Paige learning how to cook). The only real difference between the houses was the location. There was one that was a little closer to the Valkyries facility, although the other one was a little more suburban and away from the bustle of city life. Tess was honestly leaning to the more rural of the option, but she knew that decision wasn’t fully hers – she and Paige had to remember they were expanding their family in the upcoming years, and it was important that their children had the space to flourish and be happy.

Tess and Paige still had plenty of time to figure it out, so they weren’t worried. By late January, once the official free agency period began, they spent only a few hours in meetings with the Valkyries front office. Tess and Paige wanted to go to the Valkyries, the Valkyries wanted them there. There wasn’t much to argue about. However, they did have to negotiate their contract salaries. The Valkyries initial offer was actually too much, especially since Tess and Paige weren’t planning on splitting up anytime soon and they had a career’s worth of endorsements, brand deals, and steady income. They talked the front office down to a less steep offer, requesting that the extra funds go towards maintaining the facilities and investing in growing their bench. Tess, Paige, Azzi, Ayoka, and Kiki would be their sure starters. It was already a deadly lineup, but when you had an excellent, deep bench with players like Temi Fagbenle, Kate Martin, Kayla Thorton, and Madison Booker, and when the front office was looking at several free agent players like Gabby Williams, Aneesah Morrow, and Olivia Miles, the Valkyries were looking to be in good form for the 2029 season.

In early February, the official signing period began. The internet all but lit on fire when it was announced that Tess and Paige signed to the Valkyries, mostly excitement – especially at the prospect that Azzi and Paige would be reunited, but even more excitement at the idea that Paige would be running point guard with two of the best shooting guards on the wings. Then, after a short trip to the Bay, they finally signed off on a house, too. They decided for the more rural option. The distance to the facility and the city wasn’t actually that bad and they were both getting a little too old for the constant city noise.

Then February 8th rolled around, which would be the perfect ending to a hectic three months. They’d had their wedding date set ever since the plane ride back from Italy in November – Tess was a flurry of excitement and anticipation, hardly allowing Paige the time to get buckled in before talking her ear off about wedding preparation. Though, to her credit, Paige was just as invested as she was, a perpetual smile etched on her face, a lingering warmth in her eyes as they discussed some of the broader technicalities. They both knew they wanted to be married before the season started – neither of them wanted anything too huge, but a ceremony with their closest friends and family on the Hawaiian coast sounded perfect to them. The weather would be mild, not atrociously hot, and Tess had to admit – the idea of Paige, windswept and sun-kissed next to the ocean waves, did something to her heart, so it didn’t take much convincing for either of them.

So, here they are now. Tess and Paige, along with their family, flew out to Hawaii a few days before the ceremony, enjoying their time on the beach and their time with each other. Tess spent weeks perfecting her vows, considering what brand of waterproof mascara she was going to buy (because she just knew she was going to cry like a little bitch as soon as she saw Paige waiting for her). But now that the day is here? She’s freaking out.

“Tess Alessanda, I’m gonna need you to get it together.”

Kamilla’s voice does little to soothe the pounding of her heart. It’s not cold feet by any means. She’s known for years that she was going to marry Paige, but it’s so real right now. In a few moments, her parents are going to walk her down a path made of rose petals and she’s going to marry the love of her life. The excitement and anticipation is so overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

“Kam, she’s getting married,” Aliyah gripes, which causes Kamilla to roll her eyes as she fixes the strap of Tess’s dress. It’s a clean white in color, the skirt of it extending down to her ankles. She opted for a classy ‘lowkey’ since she’d be getting married in sand and she’s sure she would have flipped out if she got their wedding pictures and her dress was wet and dirty. “It’s a big day for her. And for us.” Aliyah pretends to wipe away a tear as she fake cries.

Tess watches Bree and Raven exchange a glance, the amusement in their expression clear as day as Destanni steps forward, her suit a perfectly tailored lilac to match the color of the bridal party. “Kamilla’s right, though,” Destanni says. She adjusts the white flower in Tess’s hair, nodding in approval once it’s to her liking. “You’re crazy about her, she’s crazy about you. I know this is huge for y’all but let’s turn that anxiety into happiness, alright?”

“I know,” Tess agrees, nodding floundering a bit when she tries to wipe her sweaty palms on her dress. Zia hands her a towel and Tess gratefully wipes her hands. “I’m just…super fucking excited, you know? I didn’t think something like this was possible for me.”

“Marriage?” Zia asks, a little confused.

Tess shrugs a shoulder. “Marriage. Love. Buying a house with someone that’s not my mom.” Her joke causes her closest friends to burst out into laughter. “I don’t know. I’m excited and happy and anxious and like, everything is what it’s supposed to be. I didn’t think this was possible but I’m so glad my life has worked out the way it has and I get to get married with my best friends next to me.”

“Shut up,” Bree says, wiping her waterline slightly. “You’re gonna fuck up my eyeliner.” Laughter rings out again.

“Well, Tess,” Kamilla says, a coy smile on her face. “I have a surprise for you.” Tess raises a tentative brow, honestly feeling a little concerned as Kamilla huffs. “Come on, trust me, okay? Promise you’re gonna love it.” Giving in with a sigh, Tess allows Kamilla to cover her eyes as she leads her out of the dressing room and down the hall. She bites her tongue, not wanting to be negative on her big day, but soon enough, they’re coming to a halt and Kamilla is pressing her back against the wall lightly. “Keep your eyes closed, please?” Tess nods and slowly, Kamilla removes her hands from her eyes, reaching down to grab her wrist. “I know y’all were doing the whole ‘no looking’ thing, but I thought this might be fun.” Still confused, Tess allows Kamilla to guide her hand until her knuckles are brushing against someone else’s hand. Kamilla releases her and the other person fully intertwines their fingers. Tess knows almost immediately that it’s Paige’s hand from the firmness of the grip and the way her thumb finds that specific spot on her skin that always soothes her.

“Oh my God,” Tess says incredulously, chuckling a little in disbelief. Paige huffs out something akin to laughter, too, squeezing her hand. Tess barely registers the sound of Kamilla’s heels clicking away as she focuses intently on the woman next to her, still keeping her eyes shut.

“Heard you were freaking out?” Paige asks, her tone teasing.

Tess scoffs. “I was not freaking out,” she says. Paige hums, not quite convinced, and Tess folds instantly. “Okay, maybe I was freaking out a little, but in a good way.”

“If you asked Azzi or Nika, they’d tell you I was freakin’ out, too,” Paige admits.

Tess laughs gently. “Were you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Paige affirms. “Couldn’t figure out these fuckin’ cufflinks. My hands were shaking so bad, had to redo the button on my shirt a few times ‘cause I kept skipping a hole.” They both dissolve into giggles at the confession, some of the tension easing from Tess’s shoulders. “God, Tess, I’on think you know how happy I am right now. Part of me is still in disbelief…like I can’t believe I got lucky enough to end up with you.”

Tess feels the tears pool in her eyes, so she takes a deep breath, willing them back. There’d be plenty of time for crying later. “If you’re as happy as I am, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” she says, which makes Paige let out a watery chuckle, squeezing her hand again. “I’m so glad I’m doing this with you. I don’t know if I can wait.”

“Just a little longer, yeah?” Paige asks. Tess can hear the smile in her voice.

“Just a little longer,” she confirms.

They stand in silence for a moment, eyes still closed, but Paige speaks up again. “Don’t freak out, okay?” she murmurs. “I know – easier said than done, I know, but today is already perfect. I was yours from the moment you shot a three over my head eight years ago.”

That makes Tess crack a small, grateful smile. “And I was yours the moment you blocked my shot so hard it broke your nail.”

Paige laughs, a little smug. “That was a crazy block, not even gonna lie.”

If Tess’s eyes weren’t closed, she’s sure they would be rolling by now. “You’re not allowed to freak out, either,” she says instead.

“I’m good now,” Paige promises. “Bein’ near you helps. I’m getting a little impatient, though, so Kam needs to come and get you before I start sayin’ I do.”

Tess chuckles a little. “A kiss for the road?” she says hopefully.

Paige hums. “Keep your eyes closed.”

“Are yours closed?” Tess asks, hearing Paige shuffle behind her, but she figures she gets her answer when she hears some part of Paige’s body slam into the corner of the wall between them and she hisses under her breath. “Point taken.”

“Be nice,” Paige grumbles, both of her hands blindly grasping her hips. “Where’s your face?” Tess grins, reaching down to take Paige’s wrist’s in her hands and guiding them up. Paige’s hands find home on her cheeks, cupping her jaw, and Tess leans into the touch as Paige’s fingers map out her features, brushing across her cheekbones, the bow of her lip, the slope of her nose. “I can feel you blushing. Your cheeks are hot.” Tess groans, much to Paige’s endless amusement. Tess can hear the rustling of her clothes as she leans forward, her lips finding her forehead, and Paige presses a kiss so delicate on her skin that it feels more like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. Paige’s thumb traces her jaw as she holds her a little tighter.

“I love you,” Tess says as Paige draws back.

“I love you, too,” Paige whispers. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Soon.” Tess squeezes her hand once more, hearing the sound of Kamilla’s heels once more. Before Paige releases her hand, she brushes her lips across her knuckles, finally parting with a lingering promise in the air.

Tess heads back to her dressing room for the final touches, feeling lighter than she has all day. After a while, her bridesmaids, Kamilla, Aliyah, Bree, Raven, Destanni, and Zia leave the dressing room to take their spots at the altar as Tess’s parents join her. Her mother and father are dressed in matching lilacs, the smiles on their faces full of pride and love.

“We’re so happy for you, piccola,” her mother whispers as she cups her cheeks, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. Her father rubs her shoulder comfortingly, kissing the crown of her head as all three of them try to hold back their tears.

“Are you ready?” her father asks, and with a strong, confident nod, Tess links arms with both of her parents as she walks out.

The sand is warm beneath her bare feet and the sun has begun setting across the ocean. She follows her parents along the familiar path towards the Makena Cove where the altar awaits. Her chin trembles a little, a strong mix of excitement and anticipation settling in her body. She’s really about to get married. She never thought she’d ever be over the moon for something like this, but knowing that Paige is waiting for her makes it so incredibly worth it.

The cove comes into view. Their guests rise – a mix of friends, family, teammates old and new, and it’s so beautiful. The horizon is painted a vibrant orange, streaks of pink and lavender and yellow coursing through; it reflects off of the calm ocean waves, which mesh perfectly with the soft music in the background as she walks closer and closer. The wind blows gently, flyaway strands of her hair dancing in the breeze, but what truly steals her attention away is Paige standing just a few yards away from her at the altar. She’s dressed in an all white suit, matching her dress perfectly. It’s crisp and tailored and fits her in all of the right places. The first few buttons are undone at her chest, revealing a nondescript chain, but from afar, Tess can make out the glint of the rose thumb ring she’s worn for years now. Paige’s hair is half up, half down in soft waves with two strands framing the side of her face and her make up is natural. Tess will never get tired of looking at her or saying it, but Paige is the most beautiful woman she’s ever met.

As she’s led closer and closer to her, more of Paige’s features come into view. Her eyes are a lighter blue, illuminated by the setting sun and the slight sheen of tears. Her lips tremble but her smile is bright and infectious, the joy and love and gratitude radiant on her face. Finally, she reaches the altar and her parents release her, swooping in to draw Paige into a tight hug, whispering words of encouragement to her. They wrap Tess up in their arms, too, pressing gentle kisses to her temple as they leave and take their seats at the front.

Taking their spots at the altar, Tess and Paige can’t wipe the smiles off of their faces as they link hands again. Tess can feel the slight shake in Paige’s hands, but the grin on her face is fearless. Paige’s bridesmaids (or brides-people, rather), consist of Aaliyah, Nika, Azzi, KK, Lauren, and Drew. Tess hardly has the time to think too much before the officiant launches right into the ceremony, welcoming their guests and delivering some opening remarks. Tess knows she should pay more attention to the officiant – it is her wedding, afterall, but she’s laser focused on Paige and honestly wants to skip to the part where they get to exchange their vows and finally say I do.

She doesn’t have to wait too long. The officiant makes it around to the exchange of vows and after a sure nod from Paige, Tess goes first, trying to find the words she’d spent so long perfecting. Her voice is soft, gentle, quiet enough that only Paige can hear it over the tender whistle of the wind.

“On this day eight years ago, we played against each other and I met you for the first time,” she begins, watching a slow smile spread across Paige’s lips as she listens intently. “Then, we competed again in 2022, and in 2023, I tore my ACL. I didn’t think I could survive it. I made it pretty hard on myself, to be honest, but the right people stepped in and there you were. You were there to stay – or so I’d hoped – and you made me want to take care of myself, to commit to PT and therapy and everything else under the sun so I could get better and live out my dream of playing basketball.

“When I was growing up, I thought basketball would be the only constant in my life. My dream was simple – play ball, get drafted. I didn’t expect to meet you or fall in love, but my future expanded. I dreamed of playing ball, of coming home to, or with you, of sharing a life with you and growing with you. You became part of my dream, Paige, and I’m so thankful that I get to do life with you. I’m thankful you understand me in the way that you do and I’m thankful that you push me every day to be better. I’m thankful that you love me unconditionally. My vow to you is that I will love you unconditionally. I promise you we’re a team and there’s nothing we can’t figure out. I promise to give you my all, to give our family my all. You’re my best friend, my person, and after today, my wife. I was yours before we even knew what loving each other meant and I’ll be yours forever – when we’re old and arguing about whose dentures were left on the nightstand, when we’re nothing but specks of stardust in space, when we’re in the next life together because there’s just not a world where you and I exist and I don’t fall for you. I love you endlessly, proudly, without reservation, and with every inch of my being.”

By the time she finishes, a tear is sliding down Paige’s cheek, and Tess wipes it away with a giggle. “I’on know how I can match that,” Paige jokes, drawing a fuller laugh from Tess, but she squeezes her hands gently. Paige’s eyes shine in the setting sunlight, holding so much warmth and wonder that Tess feels her heart swell at the sheer amount of love that she sees reflected in her features. “The first time we spoke, like actually spoke to each other, you said somethin’ that stuck with me for years. I was annoying you, tryna get you to tell me your middle name, and eventually you told me, ‘home is a feeling.’ I thought I knew what you meant by that. I always felt like myself on the court. I felt like no matter what, there was always gonna be a place I belonged as long as I had a ball in my hand. But as I got to know you, I realized there was more to that. A home isn’t just somewhere you belong – it’s somewhere you’re accepted and loved, where you can just be. As soon as I realized I felt at home with you, I knew there was no way I could ever only be your friend.

“You get me like no one else ever has, and it should be scary, but it’s not. It never is with you. It’s like this intense feeling of relief ‘cause you know you don’t gotta do it alone. That’s just who we are, right? We work together, we take care of each other, and we bicker and flirt and tease each other like it’s the first day we met all over again. That’s what I can – what I will promise you: I’ll love you more and more every day and cherish the time we spend together. As long as you’re with me, you don’t gotta be scared of anything. I promise to take care of you, of your heart, of our family, our future. I love you. That’s never gonna change. I thank God every day that our paths crossed and I got my chance with you, no matter how difficult our journey was. But it’s our journey and that’s why it’s so important to me. I wouldn’t change a single thing about us. You’re the best part of my life and I’m so excited to grow old with you – and, just to be clear, you’re the one leavin’ your dentures everywhere.” That’s enough to make Tess roll her eyes, giggling despite the tears beading at her waterline. One manages to slip through and Paige doesn’t hesitate before she’s wiping it off her cheek, her subsequent smile so soft and full of a warmth that would make the Dallas heat feel like it’s freezing. “I love you, Tess; you’re my better half, my purpose, and my home. You’ve made me the happiest woman in the world and I can’t thank you enough for that.”

Paige finishes, and it takes all of Tess’s willpower to hold her composure as her bottom lip wobbles. Kamilla spent an hour on her make up – she’s not going to start crying until they’ve both said I do and they’ve sealed it with a kiss. The officiant smiles, gently requesting the rings – Drew and Kamilla hand them off to Paige and Tess respectively. Paige squeezes her hand, trying to calm the tremors, but they’re both shaking from excitement and anticipation. 

“Tess, do you take Paige to be your lawfully wedded spouse, to have and to hold from this day forward, in sickness and in health? Do you promise to keep yourself open to Paige, to allow her to see through the windows of your world and into your innermost fears and feelings, secrets and dreams? Do you promise to grow alongside Paige, willing to face changes as you both change in order to keep your relationship alive and exciting? Do you promise to love Paige in good times and in bad, with all you have to give, and all you feel inside, completely and forever?”

“I do,” Tess responds confidently, her voice strong and clear. Paige smiles at her as she slowly slides the wedding band onto her finger, the ring glimmering in the last remnants of the sunlight.

“Paige, do you take Tess to be your lawfully wedded spouse, to have and to hold from this day forward, in sickness and in health? Do you promise to keep yourself open to Tess, to allow her to see through the windows of your world and into your innermost fears and feelings, secrets and dreams? Do you promise to grow alongside Tess, willing to face changes as you both change in order to keep your relationship alive and exciting? Do you promise to love Tess in good times and in bad, with all you have to give, and all you feel inside, completely and forever?”

Paige’s response is instant. “I do,” she states. She’s grinning widely, her eyes watering with happy tears as she slides the ring onto Tess’s finger, exhaling deeply in sheer contentedness as soon as it’s on. The ring is gorgeous, a perfect match to the engagement ring on her opposite hand, but Tess’s attention is captured by Paige wholly. It’s been like this for years – at the end of the day, Paige is truly the only person who is able to hold Tess’s attention. Ever since their initial fake dating agreement, Tess hasn’t looked at a single person since. Her heart was Paige’s from the day they met, and after their vows, their rings, and their marriage sealing kiss, her heart will remain in Paige’s tender care for the rest of their lifetimes.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you both married. You may now–”

Paige’s hands find her hips before the officiant can even finish their sentence, pulling her into her body and capturing her lips in a kiss that’s equal parts delicate, encompassing, and a testament of all the things they’ve been through to get here. ACLs, arguments, misunderstandings, the feeling that it was easier to pretend they didn’t love each other than to confess what they both knew to be true. Paige was right – this journey was theirs, and Tess wouldn’t change a single thing about them. In the end, they made it here on their own time after they learned crucial lessons about each other and about love. Their journey has been nothing short of perfect and as long as Paige is the one that she gets to experience life with, then Tess is all too happy to see where the wind takes them now that they’re married.

Their friends and family applaud for them and the officiant has moved out of the way for the photographer, but neither of them are paying attention to much of anything that’s not each other. Paige’s smile is bright, blinding despite the rising moonlight. The sheer happiness on her face is difficult to describe but Tess knows it, knows Paige well enough at this point. She fists her hands in the collar of Paige’s top, pulling her back down, grinning against her and laughing when Paige lifts her gently off the ground. The last kiss she presses to her lips is softer, but it’s a lingering promise that feels like returning home all over again.

(And, for the record, when Tess and Paige arrive at the Valkyries facility for their first practice of the season, they are met with gift boxes nestled in their lockers right next to each other. They open the boxes together, finding their matching home and away game jerseys, the name on the back proudly reading BUECKERS-KENNEDY.)

[phonegiveme]

RP Starter

[POV can be changed]

*You were walking through the snowy woods of Yokohama, hunting or enjoying your time as you whistle a tune to yourself. It was nice and cold, the snow was not too deep, and some woodland critters were out and about. Along your walk, you spotted a deer! The deer looked calm, sitting in the snow as it makes eye contact with you.*

*You decided, why not give it a try and pet the deer? So you slowly get closer to it, holding out your hand. You were so close to the deer until your instincts told you to jump back when suddenly a wave of multiple bullets came firing out of nowhere! You barely dodged the bullets, but the deer didn't, getting hit multiple times before falling limp in the snow.*

*A man in a dark cloak and hood then emerged from the shadows of the trees.*

[memepocalypse]

Let Me Rest

Exhaustion starters!! because i'm so tired man. im so tired. i slept 12 hours and im still so tired.

"You can barely stand any more."

"You're wobbling on your feet."

"When's the last time you rested?"

"Hey - come on - let me help you to bed."

"I got you a blanket."

"No - stop complaining - you're laying down."

"You're going to destroy yourself at this rate."

"You have to rest sometimes."

"I want you to feel better."

"If you feel like everyone hates you, you need to sleep."

"Okay, you're... not making any sense. Go to bed."

"Sleep isn't a failure."

"Rest is important."

"Shut up. Go to bed."

"The nightmares are... really bad..."

"I don't know when I last slept..."

"I'm gonna... elephant the beam... 'n I'm... uh..."

"I texted my friend "spu auash guahg." what does that mean?"

"If I'm going to bed then you... you... uh..."

"... will you stay with me tonight?"

"It's cold..."

"I wanna, um.. I just... bit longer..."

"Just getting a glass of water."

"Nooo I don't need t'sleep..."

"M'fine. It's... is fine. I'm..."

"I've never been so tired in my whole life."

"I've been laying here for hours and I can't sleep."

"I want to cry. I hate this."

"There's nothing left in me."

"I feel like a jukebox. Juice - juice box. Empty juice box."

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 9: His angel girl

genre: comfort, smut (minor do not interact!!)

word count: 5902

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you two take a step into getting back to normal... or at least trying.

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

would like to welcome all the new readers and to dedicate this chapter to the beautiful @starofthedawn who's been reading and commenting on my chapters since the beginning <3 thank you for your undying support love! means the world!

“Happy Monday!” 

You want to shoot her in the head. You want to turn around, grab Officer Kaper’s gun from his holster, and shoot her in the head, and you want to stop wanting to shoot her in the head. For someone who probably had the most magical Sunday of her life, you are not in such great mood once the consequences of sleeping a total of two hours sets in. Spencer deals with it much better than you, and you wince just remembering how snippy you were when he woke you up with the same kisses that had you moaning just hours ago. Lucky for you, though, he only laughs and pushes a full mug of coffee your way. Spencer knows you well despite the little time you two have been living together. But then again, if he really tries, Spencer would know anyone well. 

“Ah, happy Monday,” You say, shooting Officer Kaper a look that has him snorting. “Did you have any questions about the starter email? Sorry it wasn’t super in depth, it’s my first time hiring someone to help me.”

“That is absolutely okay, I’m sure I can learn a lot from you today!” 

It should be exciting, finally having the store open full time and with help to keep it functioning, but you’re just so exhausted that you can’t find it in you to be your usual cheery self. Not when just hours ago, you were feeling like you had endless energy, charging through Spencer’s touches. 

After JJ left his apartment, quite begrudgingly, you must admit, you two finally have some time to breathe. It sounds cliche, really, cheering for the moments you two can be together without an audience, but lately, there has been so few of them that it’s almost impossible to not turn selfish when they come about. And my god, are you selfish then… Spencer can’t move to the kitchen without you following him. But to your credit, he doesn’t seem to be all that comfortable with moving away from you either, and that is how you two end up in his room, digging through his mismatched socks drawer with so much gusto that it might just look like you found the long lost treasure of Atlantis. 

“You have no matching socks!” You giggle, shivering a little when you feel his presence behind you. His breath hits your nape, and Spencer drops a gentle kiss there. “Sweetheart, do I need to buy you socks?” 

“No,” He mumbles and just by the tone of his voice you know he’s distracted with dragging his lips through your neck, biting, kissing, grazing. Spencer is having his own fun with you, one that has nothing to do with the fact that your feet are freezing and his heater seems to be giving up on getting his apartment at a liveable temperature. When you ask him to look into it, he chuckles and tells you that he can fix it, that he will fix it. This, however, doesn’t look like he’s fixing it. “But you can keep calling me sweetheart.” 

Cocking your head to the side, giving him more space to work his magic. Something inside of you keens at the way he grabs at your waist, pulling you closer and keeping you there with a demanding attitude that is new and welcome, and you wonder if this has anything to do with how he finally spoke out. Taking control of a situation is always somewhat of a thrill, and you think Spencer is basking in his newfound confidence by pushing it a little further.

Not that you are complaining. Much to the contrary– a sharp exhale leaves your lips the moment he brushes those teasing lips on the junction of your neck and your shoulder, and you can feel the way he smirks, doing it again just to draw a whine out of you. “Spence,” Your voice goes all high pitched with the way he adds pressure with each kiss, the way his hands slide from holding you by the waist to encircling you completely. “Spence, what are you doing?” 

His chuckle sends another wave of shudders through you. “I’m not letting anyone take you away from me,” He whispers back, taking one step, then another, and another, until your knees push against the edge of his mattress and his kissed turn into light suckles travelling all around. At this point, you get yourself ready for the bruises you can feel blooming on your skin. “I’m never letting anyone take you away from me, I promise, angel. My angel girl…”

One day, when you think back to this moment, you’ll blame the ‘my angel girl’ for the way you so quickly clambered up to bed, hands grabbing him by that tie he insists on wearing even inside the house and tugging him down with a force you’ll probably never be able to conjure ever again. You’ll blame the ‘pretty girl’ and the ‘my Y/N’. You’ll blame the way his eyes plead, oh so quietly but never subtly, for you to get closer, to kiss him harder. You’ll blame him and his pretty lips, his pretty skin, his pretty legs. 

Everything about his is pretty, and you can’t help the excitement growing in you with each button undone. Oh, the amount of times you’ve dreamt of unbuttoning these shirts he religiously wears, uncovering inch of skin by inch of skin, dropping a kiss in every new bit of him that you get to see. Spencer is not as quiet as you thought he’d be– he rambles, and pants, and moans, and you smile because you know you’re the one dragging these sinful noises out of him, and you know that this show is all for you and you only. Spencer is not far behind though, and his hands are as equally busy– they pull, tug, rip, unzip; they do all they can until you’re left in your mismatched underwear and him, only in his boxer briefs. For some odd reason, you’re slightly disappointed that his tight underwear, outlining those beautiful thighs of his, are not purple. 

It’s cute, how his cheeks blush when his eyes land on your breasts, even if they seem stuck there for a while. “Spence,” You whisper, hand raising to caress his cheek. You are blushed yourself, redness going down your neck and chest, but you don’t mind it much, not when he seems to follow down the path of shyness you’ve created like it was the map to heaven. “Spence, is… is this okay?” 

“So much more than okay,” Spencer whispers back, face turning gently to kiss the palm of your hand cupping his cheek. “Is this okay for you?”

“So much more than okay,” You agree, smiling wide and pulling him down for another ravenous kiss. Like an instinct, your legs move to wrap around his waist, squeezing until every bit of him presses against every bit of you. 

And then you feel him, hot and heavy, and you exhale a sharp breath that has him jumping, trying to put some distance between you two as if he had somehow hurt you. “Are you okay?! Are you–“ You shut him up effectively with one more pull by the legs, hips dragging your heart against him and having him exhale as sharp as you. 

Raising your brow in a silent challenge, you mutter, “Are you okay?” With every word your lips brush against his and for once, in a long, long time, you feel good about yourself. You feel powerful, in command… sexy. The last time a man looked at you the way Spencer is looking at you had been years ago, and it hadn’t even been Josh. Josh never looked at you like that, like you could solve all his issues and pains with just one kiss, no, no; Josh looked at you like a challenge. A task. An objective. You never want to be looked at like that ever again. 

No. For the rest of your life, all you want is for Spencer to look at you like he’s doing right now. Specifically him, because if it’s not coming from those melting, honey eyes, you don’t want it. “Oh,” You breathe out, too lost in your head to have felt his hand moving upwards from your waist to sneak under your bra, nimble fingers squeezing it in an experimenting feel. From the way he bends down to kiss you, other hand rushing to unclasp the garment and throw it somewhere in the room, it must feel really fucking good. He takes it to a whole other level, though, when his lips– those lips you adore so much, that you spent hours watching move and talk and lecture– wrap around a perk nipple. “Oh, Spence…”

Sex is incredibly intimate for you. Is an act of giving and taking and giving back, and it’s a constant exchange that leaves you floating, on good times; on bad ones, it makes you feel as heavy as a rock. Just from his kisses alone you already feel weightless, so you know that from now on, there is only great things coming. Great things like how he grinds his hips down on you, catching onto your most sensitive spot again and again and again, and you’re not sure when was it that you desperately pulled his boxers down, but when you come back to yourself, climbing down from the building pleasure of having Spencer humping you like an uncontrolled teenager, you have him stark naked… and you’ll dream of this for the rest of your life. 

Naked Spencer is not the most confident, but he’s not coy about it either. In all fairness, you don’t think his brain, usually brilliant and expansive and now working in a one-track mind, is able to juggle a lot at the moment, and you chuckle at how awkwardly endearing he looks. One hand moves to push his hair our of his face, basking into the way he smiles at you, so brightly and larger than life. “You’re beautiful,” You whisper, forehead resting against his. “So beautiful…” 

“I’m afraid that would be you, darling angel,” Spencer kisses you quickly rubbing his hands on your arms, your back. “So pretty for me… all mine.” 

“All yours,” You agree, arching into his touch. It’s not possessiveness that you catch in his voice, but desperation. Fear. Need. Spencer is not dominating you, he’s not taking and taking and taking; he’s simply going along with a pace that is set by the both of you. You two are like water, moulding to each other, soft yet strong. No one has more power than the other, and no one commends nor obeys. This is a collaboration of two weirdly shy people trying to push past their natural hesitations to make something beautiful. 

Your hand slides down his chest, between your bodies, and grabs a hold of his cock. For a man that despised touch, Spence let out an eager groan, pushing his hips up towards your touch, and you whine. You want to be touched too, and he catches on instantly. Your sweet profiler, reading you even when his eyes could barely focus on yours. “So good,” He said, clumsy mouth trying to kiss yours while speaking. “So fucking good.” 

Just when you thought it couldn’t get better, Spencer curses, the word so foreign to him that you can’t help the rush of excitement that runs through you right there and then. Spencer knows, too, with how he gently slides his hand under your panties, finger diving into your wetness shamelessly. “So fucking good.”

There is not embarrassment in how loudly the sounds your body makes echoes in the room. Mixed with both your breathing, your moans, and the way your skin hits so perfectly, the sound of your eagerness is just another instrument in the symphony of you guys’ pleasure. “Spence, come on,” You whine again.

When you try to push your underwear down your legs, Spence gently slaps your hand away, tutting at you with a glint of mischievousness. Instead, he hooks his own fingers on the sides of it and makes a point of dragging it down as slow as possible. By the time he has your legs up in the air and finally gets it off of you, you are wiggling in place. “Stay still,” He gently admonishes you, nipping at your ankle that rests on his shoulder. It’s almost like Spencer is adamant on killing you slowly, keeping you teetering at the edge of a precipice created by him and him only. It’s up to him to push you over. Safe to say, with the way his lips slowly move from you ankle, down your legs, inching closer and closer to where you want him the most, you are as good as dead already, now it was all about enjoying the ride. “I want to make sure I commit this to memory.” 

“Y-You have an eidetic memory, S-Spencer– oh my god,” Your voice wobbles a little at the first touch of his mouth to your folds. Despite your… occasional dirty dream of Spencer, you had no expectations for this at all. After your conversation with Penelope, it was obvious that your beautiful nerd hadn’t had the most common teenage-hood. He had never experienced those marks of growing up– had never made out under a bleacher, never passed notes to his friends during class, never put a sock on the door of his dorm. Besides Lila and Maeve, you know nothing about his past relationships, and you found Lila’s name because of an article that leaked a photo of them kissing on a pool. Sure, you weren’t all that glad to now have the picture of Spencer kissing someone else ingrained in your brain, but it made you happy to know he had people appreciating him for all he is, before you. 

So safe to say it surprises you to know that Spencer knows how to use his mouth, and knows it well. Part of you wants to look at him, watch him eat you out like the starved man he apparently is and try, your damned hardest, to never forget it. Unlike him, you’re but a mere human that, at the moment, is so lost in pleasure that you’re not even sure if you remember your name. Doesn’t take long to have you shaking in his hands, legs trembling around his head and hips pinned down by his hands. “Let go,” Spencer whispers, opening his eyes just for a second, just to catch a glimpse of your face as he licks you whole, just right until he’s able to wrap those lips– those sinful lips– around your clit. That is your undoing, and before you can even warn him, your thighs snap closed around his head and you cum, moaning Spencer’s name like he is the prayer that will keep you alive. 

“Hmmm,” He brings you back to life with the soft little trail of kisses he drops on his way back up. In his tongue there are traces of you, of your taste, of your soul, and you are addicted with well it mixes with him. “You truly are sweet, angel.” 

“And tomorrow, I’ll figure out how sweet you are,” It’s a promise and one that you full intend to keep, though right now you truly think you will go insane if you don’t feel him like how you’ve been yearning to all night. “But right now, I really need you to–“

“To what?” He asks when your voice dies down, suffocated by the sudden feel of his cock rubbing against you just right. “Hm? What do you need, angel girl? Tell me and I’ll do anything for you…” 

Seeing Spencer so lost in pleasure is something new. His hair looks wild and his eyes are hungry and curious, focused on you and you only. He catches every reaction, every little twitch of your hips, every breathy whine; Spencer memorises everything. This will be stored in a little box inside his head, for those nights alone in strange hotel rooms in even stranger cities. For the afternoons with too little work and too many insecurities clouding his head. For the mornings when you leave before him and he can’t make you whine his name like you’re doing right now. His name… my god, his name is all he wants to hear coming out of your mouth; his name and those little gasps that send jolts of electricity up and down his spine. When you look up at him, arms going around his shoulder to pull him down for a kiss Spencer is smiling. It’s bright and wide and true and you think– no, no you know– and you know you’re falling in love with this man. 

You hike a leg up his waist, brushing yourself all over him, and you smile back. It doesn’t last long, though, because Spencer chooses that moment to push inside of you, biting your shoulder in a failed attempt to hide the guttural groan rising up his throat. “Holy shit,” You mumble, eyes threatening to close. This is all very overwhelming– in the best way possible, surely, but still overwhelming. There is the sting of stretching grounding you, but it quickly dissolves into a pleasurable burn and you are sure you’re experiencing the best of both worlds, floating in an in-between space midway to heaven from Earth. 

Ever since Cat found out your name, you’ve been living in fear. Every day, every night, you can feel the thrumming of anxiety running through your veins– sometimes stronger, like your heart is about to beat itself out of your throat, and sometimes weaker, more of a hum in the back of your ribs; but it’s always there. 

Except for now. 

Right now, you feel nothing. 

You are drowning in a world of silence, in a motionless state of being… 

…until Spencer snaps his hips at you again and you feel more than you’ve felt your entire life. 

You feel alive.

On fire. 

Burning. 

Like every nerve in your body has been ignited, like your brain is working overtime, like the air in your lugs have been punched out of your body. 

You feel so much that you can’t even begin to put into words. But you don’t have to speak, not when Spencer whispers those sweet nothings into your ear as if he’s not filthily moving his hips and driving himself so deep into you you basically see start. “So pretty, my angel,” He whines, mouthing at your neck. “So good for me, feels so good, pretty girl. So perfect.” In his words, promises lay unsaid. Promises of love, adoration, fondness. Promises of kindness, gentleness, safety. “I got you, Y/N, I got you. I promise.” 

Nodding, you let your nails drag down his back, the sounds of it all getting a bit too much for you to handle. Spencer’s hoarse voice, the slap of his skin on yours, the breathy moans he lets out; everything seems to be getting to you, and you hope this never ends. You hope to feel like this for the rest of your life, like you don’t have to have a single worry in life, because Spencer’s got you. 

“Spencer,” You cry out, pulling him for a sloppy kiss. You two are a mess of tongues and teeth and lips and the more he fills you up, the more he pushes into the you, the more you’re willing to fall, fall, fall… and you so you fall. “Oh! Spencer!” 

Your orgasm washes over you like a crashing wave, approaching fast and silently but crashing loudly once it hits shore. It’s a surprise to you and apparently to him too, from how he groans the loudest he has so far. You tense up for a second or two or three or maybe even an eternity, squeezing around him oh so perfectly, enough to make him falter, arms giving out and almost having his whole body crash onto you. In his own desperation to cum, Spencer speeds up in such a delicious way that it feels like you’re in a never ending downward spiral, pussy fluttering around him until he pushes into you one last time. “Y/N…” Spencer moaned, keeping himself quiet with how hard he bites your neck, tensing as he let his pleasure wash over him in jerky movements of his hips before completely stopping.

Slowly but surely, he pulls out of you, laying by your side looking completely spent with a lingering hand on your waist. Takes him a bit, but eventually, Spencer gathers enough strength to pull you to him, kissing your forehead lovingly. “You’re… everything,” He breathes out, eyes running over your face to commit it to memory, to engrave it in a type of forever that only he knows. His own forever. You are his very own forever.  “Is it too corny to say thank you?” 

You laugh and look up at him. “Depends,” Cuddling closer, you let your lips graze over his ear. “Are you thanking me for a job well done?”

“Hmmm,” His chuckle reverberates through you. “A job very well done, sweetheart, yes.” 

“Then no, it’s not corny,” You giggle, trowing a leg over his waist. “But as an academic, I don’t think your sample is large enough to be reaching any conclusions yet, doctor.”

“Oh, no, no, I’m not concluding anything yet,” Spencer shivers a little at your teasing joke, eyes darkening in a way that is surely becoming familiar to your. His little smile is enough to have you pushing yourself closer to him, kissing his neck gently. “I am making an inference. An inference is an educated guess, and based on that, I form a hypothesis.”

“And what’s your hypothesis here, doc?” 

Clearing his throat, Spencer lets out a breathy hum and tugs you on top of him, thighs on each side of his waist so he can run his hands up and down your beautiful skin. “I think I need a bit more… education first, if you don’t mind.” 

“Oh?” Cocking your head to the side, you smile brightly at him. “And how will you embark in this search for knowledge?” 

“Give me twenty minutes and I’ll show you how, angel girl.” 

In ten minutes he was kissing you all over again, muttering your name like a mantra. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N-

“Y/N?”

Your head snaps up to look at Abigail again, cheeks blushing when you realise where your mind had just gone. “Yes? Sorry Abi, what did you say?” 

“We have a consumer, could you help me with the cashier system?” And when Abigail smiles, you’re back to your sour mood. Honestly, you feel for her– you feel like a massive bitch who hates on a girl for absolutely no reason, but considering everything that’s been happening, her enthusiasm sending you for a loop.

“Of course!” Doesn’t mean you won’t still try and be a good boss. This is, after all, a place of business. Walking to her, you guide your new store manager through everything she needs to know; the cashier system, the ordering and cataloguing inventory, the filing system on the shelves. Much to your dismay, Abigail is a quick learner and she’s eager to help, jumping into the action as soon as a client walks into the store. You’re quite grateful for that, now having time to actually focus on the administrative tasks you’ve been putting away for ages, and when the time comes to close the store, you look at her with the friendliest smile you can handle under the current exhaustion and soreness that took over your body overnight. “You did great,” You promise, locking the door behind you. “Honestly, I could already work that much better with you handling everything, thank you very much.” 

“It was my pleasure!” Abigail smiled. “Will I be given a key for the days you’re not coming in?” 

You didn’t think that far, but the thought made you shift a bit uncomfortably. Giving her entrance to the bookstore so freely means you’re giving her entrance to your apartment just upstairs. And besides Officer Kaper and the BAU team, no one knows where you live. The goal is to keep it that way. “We can cross that bridge when we get to it, for a while I intend on coming in every day to make sure your introduction to the store is smooth and seamless!”

“Sounds perfect!” When you finish locking the door, you turn around to find her waiting with an expectant expression. “I uh, I don’t mean to bother you boss, but how about some drinks to celebrate the first day? You can come over now that I’m fully decorated!”

The invite is kind, and as much as you really want to go home and kiss your boyfriend silly, you can’t. You can’t tell her no, not again and again and again, and to your surprise, and hers, you nod. “Yeah, why not? You deserve it. Should I stop at the store to buy anything?” 

Quickly shaking her head, Abigail starts guiding you both back to the building calling your name. At least she lived a total of one floor away from Spencer. “No, no, I have everything back home to make some mojitos.” 

“Then we’ll order some pizza,” You chuckle, following her inside and up the stairs. “On me!” 

“Deal!” 

Her apartment is strangely familiar. It looks a lot like Spencer’s, though you can’t help but miss the muted shade of green that adorn his walls, surrounded by a bright pit of white instead. Everything about her place screams single female; the neutral furniture, the romance books piling by the sides of the couch, the quirky decorations that bring some type of colour to the room, and the obvious excessive amount of throw pillows everywhere. “Sorry for the mess,” Abigail chuckles, closing the door behind you and immediately trying to organise the living room. But you see the charm in how it is, and you don’t really mind being in a house that looks like someone lives in. 

“Don’t worry about me,” You wave at her. “I like being in a house that feels like a home.” 

“Have you ever considered being a writer?” The question makes you laugh. “Sometimes you say some very poetic things and I swear they would sound great in a book.” 

“I’m happy selling other people’s books,” Is all you give her, shrugging at her suspicious glance. “So… Pizza?” 

You don’t want to admit it, but at one point, you start having fun. It’s right after the awkward talking time and just as the pizza arrives that you two start laughing together, giggling at crazy stories from her old jobs. For a moment, this feels right– feels like what a girl’s night should feel like, with the gossiping, the drinks, the greasy food, and the shitty romance movie playing in the background without you paying attention to it, besides a couple of comments on how Jude Law is so cute. “…And then he wrote his number on the receipt and gave it to me! The audacity!”

Abigail has just finished telling you the story of how she met her ex and you chuckle, shaking your head. “Honestly, I lucked out with my customers. You’ll see that soon, but so far, everyone’s been incredible. I had some horror stories from the stores I worked at back in Manhattan, but thankfully they haven’t followed me here.” 

“Hmm,” Abigail is sitting in front of you, happily munching on her food while she squints at you. “Is that how you met Spencer Reid?”

You choke on a bite of crust and the way you have to wash it down with your mojito is ridiculous. The alcohol burns through your throat but at least you can breathe better. “Uh, Spence?”

“Yeah, Spencer Reid,” Abigail chuckles. “The neighbour upstairs. Your… something. Is he your boyfriend? You never really clarified.” 

Blushing, you nod. “Yeah, that’s my boyfriend,” Saying those words out loud feels surreal, like you have suddenly added a seal of authentication to it all. “We’ve been– We are dating.” 

“Oh,” This is the least enthusiastic you’ve seen her all night, and something tickles your brain. Is she disappointed that you two are officially dating? Is she into Spencer?! “Good to know. Uh, did you meet him at the store?” 

“Yeah,” The mood quickly turns upside down and tension settles where laughter previously occupied. “We’ve been friends for a while, though, and I uh, I used to watch his apartment while he was out of town for work and he’d bring me books and–“

“Is he out of town a lot?” This. This is exactly why you always feel weird next to Abigail– her invasive questions. “For work, that is.” 

“I–“ What are you supposed to say to that? Yes. He travels regularly and I’m constantly vulnerable and alone at his apartment? Absolutely not. “I mean, sometimes, but he can take cases from home.” 

“Cases? What does he do again?” 

“Oh,” You need to change the subject right now. “Spencer, he uh, he works with–“ 

You are not sure why you don’t want to tell her the truth, but you and Spencer had never discussed a story, a cover up; but then again, you two had never discussed being separated. A certain level of codependency has instilled thanks to the current situation, and it just makes sense to assume you’d always be together in social situations. 

“Because Officer Kaper also knows him, right? He said something back at the store, and I was curious.” 

Curiosity might have killed the cat, but Abigail is the one who will kill you. Cat knows Spencer works for the BAU, why would her partner be kept in the dark? Logically, nothing about this makes sense, and you might be overthinking and overreacting, but telling her about Spencer’s private life still feels wrong. Dirty. Like you’re breaking his trust just with a couple of words. 

Gulping, you nod, looking around with a nervous chuckle. “He uh, he works in a governmental agency,” Taking a deep breath, you think of semantics, of words that mean the same thing but can be as vague and open-ended as possible. “Some team I forgot the name. You know how those things are, you can be as close as possible with someone and still not be able to tell what they do for a living.” 

Her laughter is enough to have you breathing easier. “Oh my god! I so know what you mean… but when you really like someone, I think you remember the little things you know. Or at least I do. I still remember that book you mentioned on our first interview–“ Shuffling to grab something behind her, she shows you the cover of the book you mentioned a while back. “I’m halfway through and it’s absolutely incredible!” 

Holding back the impetuous Spencer remembers everything that you so badly want to throw at her, you just chuckle. With every word Abigail speaks, it feels like she’s throwing a dig at either Spencer or your relationship with Spencer, and you’re not sure which one makes you angrier. “I’m glad you like it,” You say, and the buzz of your phone saves the day. It’s been buzzing for a bit, but you didn’t mind checking it much while you were having fun. Now that things have gone a tad south, you can’t wait to come up with an excuse to go home. “Sorry, let me just– oh… Abi, I’m sorry, but I think I need to go home.” 

3 missed calls. 8 new messages. All from Spencer. Quickly helping her clean everything, you smiled. If this is going to work, you need to put in as much effort as Abigail is. You need to stop being afraid. You need to be honest with her. You need to do a lot… but not tonight. Tonight you’ve done enough. 

“Thank you again for having me, this was actually fun,” You smile, giving her a quick hug before opening the door and stepping out onto the hallway. “We can go to work together tomorrow, if you want! Text me when you’re about to leave?”

“Oh!” That is enough to have her smiling wide. “Yes! Amazing, I will!” 

One last wave and you’re running up the stairs, unlocking Apartment 23 with the key Spence gave you. “I’m so sorry!” You call out as soon as you’re inside, bag and shoes dropped by the door as soon as you spot him sitting on his couch. “Spence, I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you I was hanging out with Abigail after work and she made mojitos and we got pizza and–“

“Hey, hey hey hey, it’s okay, it’s alright,” Getting up, he walks to you and cups your cheeks, eyes searching for… something… in yours. “You’re okay?” 

“I’m okay. Better now, but okay,” You mumble back, kissing his lips gently as a reassurance. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you I was going to Abigail’s.” 

“You should’ve,” Spencer sighs, nodding with a small smile. “I was really worried… But then I called Garcia and she pulled the cameras, so I knew you were downstairs.” 

“Uh… Babe, I don’t know if that’s the best use of–“

“I don’t care, I was going out of my mind,” His arms squeeze you closer and he hides his face on your neck. “I know you can’t be here 24/7, and we talked about you going back to work, but… but let’s try and let each other know where we are more often? Just while this Cat thing is not solved, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You agree. Your lips press against his forehead lovingly. “Yeah, I’ll do better.” 

“Thank you, angel. Did you have fun?” 

“I did, for a while. But then Abigail started asking some… personal questions and I just– it sets me off, I don’t know why,” You are clearly frustrated with yourself, sighing and letting your body fall on the couch. In a beat, your arms open for him, inviting Spence to lay with you for a moment. “She asked where you work. I said a ‘governmental agency’ and I don’t know why I feel like I need to hide you from strangers, like she’s going to try and do something to you if she finds out details about your life.” 

When he lays down, you curl into him. “You’re protecting me, and that is really cute,” Spencer clarifies. “Maybe she’s just desperate for a friend, you know? I certainly have been there before, it can make you lose a bit of that common sense that should kick in and hold you back from putting your foot in your mouth, or any other idiot expression people use.” 

“Could be,” Truth be told, you don’t want to talk about Abigail anymore. You don’t want to think about Abigail, you don’t want to think about Cat, you don’t want to think about anyone but Spencer. 

You want to bask in your silence. In you quietude. 

You want to feel normal again. 

This feels normal again. 

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“I missed you today.” 

Yeah… when he giggles; when he kisses your cheek, your neck, your shoulder; when he mumbles excitedly about his day… it all feels normal. 

---------------------------------------

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[traumadumpwriter]

JJ Maybank X Reader ~ Relapse and a Half

My first OBX fic. I hope y’all like it.

Summary: The Pogues feel betrayed by the readers sudden relapse into hard drugs, but they’re unable to be angry at her for too long as something terrible leaves her needing their support more than ever.

Trigger warning for: drugs (obviously), guns, sexual assault, violence

Part two

Part One:

You'd been on the edge for a while now. The relapse should've been seen from a mile off. Your uncharacteristic quietness, the way you'd get lost in your thoughts, the distant look in your eyes. Everyone could tell that something was up, but even when they questioned you about it you had no real answers to give - uncertain yourself of what was making you feel so withdrawn.

When you'd first moved to OBX with your busy mum, you'd instantly found a group of friends - a really good group of friends - the Pogues. And they'd been quick to suss out that you were hiding things - particularly JJ. You were practically never sober, for starters, and though he wasn't either, you had a way of taking it to the next level. This was fun most of the time, but sometimes it got to a level that was concerning - even to the most problematic Pogue on the island. Whenever he'd pushed you for answers, trying to figure out what exactly you were self medicating for, you got extremely annoyed and so he never really got a straight answer. You couldn't bare to be so vulnerable with anyone - let alone the boy you'd started to develop feelings for - so you remained somewhat of a mystery.

Sure, there had been nights when you'd shared a bed - both of you very drunk. You'd convince yourself that maybe JJ liked you, maybe the sex meant more to him than just sex, but then when he'd continue to treat you like just a friend the morning after, your hopes would be crushed. It’s not like you ever gave him any reason to think that the sex was anything other than casual, but that was because you didn’t want him to be able to reject you. And besides, could he not tell that you wanted more? Kiera could and she wasn’t even in the bedroom.

Then the overdose happened. The Pogue's had suspected that you'd been taking something other than just alcohol for a while. The night that you'd almost died at the Chateau their suspicions became a painful fact. You'd taken a few too many pills - benzodiazepines to be exact - and though you'd known that you were reaching a point of no return, after hearing all about the gorgeous touron that JJ had been obsessed with, you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

That night had been awful for everyone, and you'd ended up tearfully promising that you would get clean after that, unable to bear the hurt on the Pogue's faces. So you'd been almost a year clean now, blossoming into a new person that the Pogue's liked even more than the old you. Yours and JJ's relationship remained just as complicated though - still having the occasional hookup but largely seeming as if you were just friends. Now that you weren't on pills and you could actually fully remember the sex, it hurt even more in the morning after. Still, you continued, desperate to feel wanted even if it was just for a night.

You hadn't realised how much this routine was actually bothering you until in a night similar to the one you'd overdosed on, JJ had been making out with another gorgeous touron.

*Your POV*

I'd watched jealously from across the party, ignoring the sound of Kie in my ear telling me that "I was much prettier than that touron."

I appreciated the sentiment, but I knew it was a lie, and so in a split second decision, I told Kie that I was going to go home. "I'm going to have an early one." I said, knowing it was a lie. "I'll see you tomorrow."

In that split second decision, I'd decided that all of my progress didn't matter if I still felt this worthless. What was the point in being clean if it meant that I wanted to die? JJ's insistence had been one of the things that had motivated me to stay away from the pills, but he hadn't been interested in me for a while now. He hadn't even asked me for a fuck. Had he grown bored of me? Or maybe I had gotten uglier without realising it. Maybe I had put on some weight or he didn't like my haircut. Maybe he’d developed feelings for a different girl - a better girl.

Kie nodded worriedly, clearly not sure whether to believe me or not. I hadn't even directly confessed to her that I liked JJ, she was just the only one in the group who wasn't too stupid to see it.

"Okay. Be safe." She smiled, pulling me into a hug, and though I felt bad, I still hopped on my bike and headed straight to Barry's as soon as the coast was clear.

Kie would be devastated if she'd known where I was actually going. So would John B, and Pope, and maybe even JJ, but they would forgive me quicker than her. At least, I thought that they would.

Blurred memories of the night I'd overdosed filled my mind; the sound of shouting, someone's fingers down my throat, a muffled sob, flashing lights. A shiver of shame ran down my spine as I struggled to push the images from my mind.

The ride to Barry's was short, though it felt like a lifetime as all the things I hated about myself bounced around in my head like a torturous broken record. Of course JJ didn't want to be with me. I wasn't beautiful enough. I wasn't cool enough. I wasn't good enough. I would just continue to be his slutty friend that he could stick it in whenever it was convenient for him, and he didn't even seem to want that anymore. The thought made me even more ashamed, remembering all the times I'd let him fuck me, hoping that he'd found me beautiful, thinking that maybe he liked me, just to realise in the morning that I was easy to him.

Yet I knew, that if he were to approach me in that moment and ask for a fuck, I wouldn't say no. I wanted to be wanted so badly, even if it was just for a fleeting moment, and the feeling was unbearable. It ate me up inside, making my chest tight and my eyes water. I was quick to blink any dampness away from my eyes though, focused instead on the high that I would soon have - the comfortable numbness that it would bring me. My clean streak meant nothing, a stupid concept when compared to the internal anguish I felt. From my low self esteem to my repressed trauma, I had no fight left in the battle to stay clean. Sure, the Pogue's would be upset if they found out, but I wouldn't let them find out. I would keep it low-key, unlike I did before.

When I knocked on Barry's door, I was relieved that he was the one to answer and the house was seemingly empty, meaning I only had to speak to him. His friends were annoying, and though I didn't particularly like Barry, I found him funny sometimes.

"Well shit, Y/N. Been a while." He grinned.

"Yeahh. Well I'm back." I said with a mock smile.

"Come inside."

The transaction had soon been completed; a pot of pills in my hand and some cash in Barry's. I leant back into the sofa and took one immediately, swallowing it down with a beer handed to me by him.

"Bad night?" He questioned with an amused scoff.

"Something like that." I answered. "How about you? Place ain't usually this empty on a Friday." 

"Want my own company sometimes. That a crime?"

"No. Just strange is all." I murmured, taking another swig from the beer.

Paired with my already drunkenness, the feeling of the pill was starting to hit - hard and strong - and I felt my body slump comfortably into the sofa. My head felt light whilst the rest of my body felt heavy, creating a strange, cosy sensation. It was a feeling I'd missed.

"Well what happened with you, party princess?" He scoffed, cracking open a beer for himself.

I let out a light chuckle at the question, now feeling as if it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

"Dumb shit."

"You looked pretty upset when I opened the door. Boyfriend troubles?"

I raised my eyebrows in mock offence.

"Why would I have a boyfriend?" I questioned with a laugh "Who'd you hear that from?"

Barry laughed too.

"Cus a girl like you - you're pretty. I'm surprised some Kook hasn't swiped you up."

I snorted at that and rolled my eyes.

"Well thanks I guess."

I thought about having sex with Barry in that moment, just to hear him call me pretty again. But I decided against it, slightly sickened by the idea, and pulled myself off the sofa.

"I should go, see you around?"

"You sure you can ride that thing safely?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine." I chuckled before heading out the door and throwing myself back onto my bike.

The ride home was perilous, and though I did almost crash a few times, my body went into autopilot and I was soon safely in my bed, mind too numb to pick myself apart for the first night in a while.

For the next week I was able to keep the pill-taking to a minimum, only popping two a day at most. I only did it to make the thoughts stop - to bring on the comfortable numbness so that I could actually bare to be awake. So that I could actually bare to be around my friends.

I'd always managed to keep my feelings for JJ locked up and manageable, but for some reason seeing him with that touron had bothered me in ways I hadn't been bothered before. Perhaps it was because she was so gorgeous, or maybe it was how pleased JJ looked to have pulled her. Either way, it just reinforced to me how worthless I was. He brought her up one day at the Chateau and it instantly made me feel hot with annoyance.

"That touron from the other night just texted me, should I go there again?" He said with a proud smirk, looking around the room.

I rolled my eyes and picked up the half smoked blunt from the ashtray, relighting it and sucking on it in hopes that it would make my jealousy fade.

"Didn't you steal like a hundred dollars from her purse?" Pope scoffed, eyes focused on the television. Adventure Time was playing with the volume on low, and both Pope and Kie seemed more interested in it than the conversation that JJ and John B had been having. I'd been drifting lazily between the two, too high to properly contribute to anything, but now JJ had my full attention.

"Yeah. Obviously didn't notice though. Girl had too much cash for her own good." He mused, eyes on his phone screen. "Ooh! And guess what she just sent me."

"Tit pic?" John B asked, a grin crawling onto his lips.

"Tit pic." JJ confirmed, chucking his phone over to John B.

"Nice." He chuckled, looking at the phone before chucking it back to JJ.

"You guys are disgusting." Kie scoffed. "I mean like really JJ? Did that girl send you that picture for you to show your friend? You have no respect for women sometimes."

"I respect women very much, actually Kie. I respect you and Y/N. I respect your mums and Pope's mum. I just don't respect easy, spoiled touron's like her." He said defensively, and I loudly scoffed at that. He didn't respect me.

"What? You think I don't respect women too?" He asked me with furrowed brows, crossing his arms.

He was sat across the room from me; myself, Kie and Pope spread out across the sofa whilst him and John B sat in chairs. I looked him up and down, pleased that there was no lump in my throat to swallow, no butterflies in my stomach to squash and no loving gaze to hide.

“Sure, you really respect women JJ. Whatever you say.”

He looked surprised by that response, probably expecting me to get defensive, then continued on a rant about how he wasn’t misogynistic. Kie argued with him for a little bit, and John B and Pope eventually joined in too. Usually I also would’ve joined, just for the amusement of it all, but no words came to my mind. Instead I just watched, chuckling at the occasional insult being thrown and smoking my blunt.

Two weeks later and I’d upped the dose to at least four pills a day. The thoughts had gotten harder to crush, growing a tolerance. Much to my relief though, none of the Pogue’s seemed to suspect anything.

It was a hot day and we’d decided to go swimming, using the inner ring of a tire as a floaty - which we all fought over.

“I stole the tire, so I should get it!” JJ proclaimed, and though he was right, I wanted the ring.

“Okay well if you’re not a woman hater, prove it by letting me and Kie have the ring!” I grinned.

“Yeah! Prove it!” Kie added, high-fiving me.

JJ groaned and rolled his eyes, but eventually gave in with a slight smirk to me.

“Okay fine - but we’re sharing it!”

I giggled at his childish nature, feeling the butterflies rise up in my stomach that I’d been managing so well to suppress. The second that I realised what I was feeling, I knew that I needed to take another pill.

“I’m gonna go pee. Don’t wait for me.” I said, heading back indoors.

Once I was in the bathroom, I dug through my bag to find the orange pot, irritated when I realised that I didn’t have a lot left. I’d have to go back to Barry’s soon. That was annoying. I swallowed one of the pills with some water from the sink and looked at myself in the mirror before heading back out. I looked tired and unattractive and I sighed at that, thinking of how good the girl that JJ had been dancing with at the boneyard this week looked.

I reached into the fridge and took myself out a beer, cracking it open and downing half of it before stepping out of the kitchen. I didn’t expect to see JJ stood on the porch waiting for me, a slight furrow to his brow. I purposely hadn’t been alone with him in weeks and it sent a pang of anxiety into my chest.

“Starting this early? Haven’t seen you do that in a while. You feeling alright?” He asked, his voice soft.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You just seem.. different.” He was wording himself carefully, I could tell, which was very out of character for him. What could he possibly want from me?

“I’m just tired.” I said with a huff and tried to walk past him.

He suddenly put his hands on my waist, which was exposed in a bikini, holding me still. At the initial contact, I felt electrified, but I was quickly reminded of what I had missed - and the reasons why. I worried that my flesh felt too squishy under his fingers, that there was too much of it, or that the dip of my waist wasn’t defined enough. Compared to that touron I probably felt like a whale.

“What’s going on Y/N? Are you mad at me?” He asked, his eyes wide with concern, but I couldn’t think about his words - only the crippling self hatred his hand on my waist was making me feel.

I stepped backwards so that he was no longer touching me, something that only seemed to deepen the crease between his eyebrows, and blinked a couple of times before I could speak.

“I’m, uh- I’m going to grab a shirt.”

And with that I paced back inside, finishing the beer and pulling one of John B’s oversized vests over my bikini. The pill hadn’t kicked in yet and I could still see JJ stood waiting on the porch so I decided to go into the bathroom and take another. Then I grabbed another beer from the fridge and downed it, relieved when I felt the relaxing effects kick in almost immediately.

“Why are you downing beer? Since when do you do that?” JJ’s voice from behind me made me jump, his face critical.

“I’m just having a good time.” I smiled at him.

“Really? Because you don’t look like you’re having a good time. You look miserable, Y/N.”

Was it that easy to see through my charade? It irritated me that he cared now when he should’ve cared a couple of weeks ago. Now it was too late.

I huffed and shook my head, managing to walk past him this time undisrupted and lead the way to the water.

“I’m fine. Come on, let’s go.”

He didn’t bother me for the inflatable ring at all. In fact, he didn’t speak to me for hours after that. I wasn’t bothered by it though, the mix of booze and benzos that had finally hit making me entirely unfazed by everything. The comfortable numbness that I craved so badly.

I lay floating in the ring for what felt like hours, my eyes closed as I felt the waves move me freely around. The water was so cold compared to the beaming sun, but the two extremes together made me feel more relaxed than I had been in a while. Maybe I had fallen asleep, I wasn’t too sure, but when someone was suddenly directly next to me, interfering with the natural direction of the waves, I jumped up at their presence.

“What are you thinking about?”

It was Kie, her tone lighthearted though her face was concerned.

“Not much. The sound of the water mostly. You?” I answered truthfully.

“Honestly, right now I’m thinking about you.”

“Why? You into me or something?” I teased, not expecting her tone to change to match her face.

“No Y/N I’m serious. What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting weird ever since that party with the blonde touron.”

Kie was catching on, which was bad. It wouldn’t take her much to figure out what was really happening, so I had to come up with a lie, or maybe not a lie but a distraction.

“Yeah. Okay. I’m sad about JJ… But it doesn’t matter. I’ll get over it.” I confessed, relieved when I saw the stress in Kie’s face relax.

“He’s a total idiot. You can do better than him anyway.” She said with exasperation, stroking my hair.

“No I can’t.” I laughed. “But like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

Kie sighed.

“I wish you weren’t so harsh on yourself. If you could see what other people could see you wouldn’t be.”

I smiled at her, feeling appreciation for the girl buzz through me.

“Love ya Kie.”

She smiled too, but it was weaker than usual.

“Love you too… Now give me the floatie.”

When it got dark some hours later we all piled back into the Chateau and put on a movie, squeezing onto the couch. I sat on the edge and much to my displeasure, JJ sat next to me. That displeasure only lasted a second though before it was washed over by a tidal wave of carelessness, and I was able to relax my body against his like he was anyone - not the most problematic Pogue on the island.

The movie went on for a while until JJ shifted positions, wrapping his arm around me and placing his hand on my leg.

This had been a fairly standard position for us, his fingers creeping up my thigh in the darkness of the room and our friends none the wiser. Now it felt different though, and instead of being excited by it I was annoyed. Was I only good enough to touch in secret? Was he touching me now just because I was there and it was something to do? Could he only bare to touch me when he was drunk? I needed to take another pill.

With a wobble, I flicked JJ’s hands from me and pushed myself up, grabbing my handbag and heading to the bathroom. Pope and Kie had passed out on top of each other and John B was too engrossed in the movie to look up. So when I heard a knock on the bathroom door, I knew who it was before it even opened.

“I didn’t say you could come in. I could’ve been taking a shit.” I teased.

JJ’s stoney face didn’t offer a crack of amusement as he stepped closer to me.

“What’s going on with you? It’s like you can’t stand to be around me. Have I done something?”

“No. Everything is fine.” I answered with a fake smile.

He didn’t buy it, becoming visibly annoyed.

“You’re so full of shit Y/N. Don’t try to play dumb with me right now. I know you’re pissed off about something.”

“Why do I have to be pissed off about something?” I said combatively, crossing my arms.

“Because you’re acting like my touch is gonna make you sick or something and you clearly can’t stand to be around me! Is this because of that tit pic I showed John B? I don’t get it. Are you jealous or something? Or do you just think I’m a sexist pig too?”

“My world doesn’t revolve around you. Have you ever considered that I just stopped giving a shit about what you do?”

I usually felt horrible about lying to my friends, but looking at his beautiful face, thinking of how he didn’t want me, the lie came out easily. He clearly didn’t buy it though.

“Oh really? Is that why you don’t want to fuck anymore? Because you stopped giving a shit about me? Yeah right.” He scoffed and I felt my face start to angrily heat up. “What the fuck is going on? Did someone tell you some bullshit about me? Do you have a boyfriend now or something?”

I scoffed right back at him, widening my eyes in disbelief.

“Would that make you jealous? If I had a boyfriend?”

“Do you or do you not?” He demanded with gritted teeth.

I didn’t answer for a moment, enjoying the stressed expression on his usually uncaring face. Did he really care if I had a boyfriend? Surely not in any way that mattered. Just in some stupid male ego way. I sighed at that and uncrossed my arms as I answered.

“Obviously not. Who would want to be with me? Don’t be stupid, JJ. Now what did you come in here for?”

He looked at me incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. I didn’t understand why he seemed so stressed for and it was irritating to me.

“For this conversation, right now! What do you think I came in here for?” He said exasperatedly and I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t know but can you leave? I need to pee.”

“No, I can’t leave until I know what the fuck is going on with you. Jesus! How much have you had to drink?”

Had I been slurring? I couldn’t tell.

“Not enough for this.” I tutted bitterly.

He sucked in his lips and took a deep breath, eyeing me like he was trying to work something out.

“Wait, look at me straight for a second.” He muttered, reaching his hand out to touch my face, angrily repeating himself when I questioned why.

His thumb stroked over my bottom lip and I straightened my back, trying to match his stare but unable to stand completely still. He hadn’t looked at me with such intrigue in a long time, and I was glad I was so high or else I would’ve completely submitted under his blue gaze. His next words instantly shattered any fantasies that could’ve been playing in my head though, instead filling me with unreasonable rage.

“You’re high aren’t you?”

I knew it wasn’t a question. The steely look in JJ’s eyes and his flared nostrils made it abundantly clear that he’d already figured out the answer for himself. But I couldn’t let him think he was right.

“I mean yeah, I’ve smoked a lot today, you have too-”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” He hissed, dropping his hand from my face. “I can’t fucking believe you. This is why you’ve been acting weird. I should’ve known.”

I rolled my eyes and mumbled “You’re overreacting, I’m just drunk” to which he quickly shot back “Oh yeah? Why are your pupils the size of mars then?”

“They’re not.” I felt my footing slip slightly as I lied, and I had to quickly lean against the wall to stop myself from falling.

“And now you’re just lying to my face. Nice one Y/N. How long had you been clean? A year, almost?”

I thought of the hours that he’d spent with me when I’d first gotten sober; looking after me when I was being sick, bringing around food, washing my hair. I’d felt so loved. I’d felt like there was no reason for me to ever pick up a benzo again.

The betrayal in his voice told me that that would never be happening again. With a huff, I picked up my bag from the side and shoved past the blonde, gasping when he grabbed my arm.

“Where are you trying to go now?” He laughed humourlessly.

“Get off me, JJ. I’m going home.”

“What because you’ve been caught out?”

“No. Because you’re being a dick.”

He wouldn’t loosen his grip on my arm despite my desperate pulling and so I started to speak louder, hoping someone would intervene and give me a chance to slip out.

“Get off me!”

“I’m not letting you go.” He said with gritted teeth, tightening his grip. “What have you taken?”

“Get the fuck off me!” I repeated louder, relieved when John B appeared in the doorway.

“What the hell is going on?” He looked between us with a concerned expression and JJ loosened his grip.

“She’s on fucking drugs again, John B.” JJ hissed and though I wanted to argue and try to prove him wrong, I quickly slipped out of the bathroom and paced out of the house, ignoring JJ’s shouts from behind me.

“What the fuck is going on Y/N?”

“Do you just not give a shit about yourself? About your friends?”

“How could you do this? You were clean for so long.”

His words stung, and though I rationally knew he was right, I was too ashamed to feel anything other than anger and embarrassment. The Pogue’s would hate me now, and rightfully so.

I understood why JJ was so annoyed. I’d listened to him seethe about his dad, about how he was an abusive drug addict - but yet, when the blonde came home and he was passed out on the sofa, JJ still always checked if he was breathing. I’d seen the bruises, and met the man who left them, begrudgingly shook his hand and tried to forget what he’d done with them. Was I reminding JJ of that? Was I like his piece of shit father?

In a rush, I picked up my bike and went to get on it but instantly fell over, dropping the bike as I did.

“You’re gonna ride home like this? Seriously?” JJ’s voice came from behind me, loud and aggressive.

I struggled to pick my bike back up, almost falling over it again, and his hands were suddenly on top of mine, holding the handles and stopping me from going. John B was quick behind him.

“Are you really on drugs, Y/N?” John B questioned, eyes wide.

“I’m just drunk.” I hissed, trying to pull the bike out of JJ’s grip.

“Right, she says she’s just drunk, let her go JJ.” John B said harshly but JJ scoffed.

“She’s lying! Look at her! She can’t even walk properly!”

Then he turned to me, his voice suddenly pleading and face full of pain. It caught me off guard and I felt another pang of guilt ripple through my body, tears attempting to escape my eyes but being successfully pushed back by the Xanax.

“What have you taken, Y/N? Please don’t lie to me. I know you’ve taken something.”

I wanted to tell him the truth so bad. The whole truth. I wanted to break down and beg for his forgiveness, to tell him I loved him and that I would get clean again.

But I couldn’t do it.

There was no point.

I’d ruined everything now anyway.

“I’m just drunk. Leave me alone.” I slurred and tried to pull the bike from his grip again.

It didn’t work. I fell backwards onto the ground, landing on my butt with a groan. I laughed at my fall instinctively, forgetting the situation I was in for a second, but when I looked up and saw my friend’s distressed faces my laughing stopped. Even John B looked suspicious now, his eyes snapping from mine to JJ’s. He bent down and pulled me up with ease, though he huffed after he’d done it.

“Y/N, can we look in your bag?”

My heart leapt into my throat and I quickly jumped to defence.

“No way you fucking pervs. Let me go home.”

He turned to JJ with an straight face and both of them exchanged a short look before looking back at me.

That was it. He believed JJ. He knew.

“I’m not letting you ride home. I’ll drive you.”

His voice had been so monotone, so void of any real offering, that it caught me off guard. He was angry. I looked at JJ. He was angry too.

“N-No. I’m fine. I can ride-”

“I’m fucking driving you home, Y/N. Get in the Twinkie.” John B cut me off sharply and I jumped backwards, almost falling again until he caught me.

They both looked so disappointed and I was so ashamed at that point that all I could do was nod, following him silently to the van. JJ said nothing and I didn’t dare look back to see if he was looking, though I felt that I could feel his stare on the back of my head. This was the worst thing that could’ve happened. Why did I have to take it so far? Why did I have to lie to their faces like that?

The short drive back to mine was agonisingly silent, all John B said was “Look after yourself” before I stepped out of the van.

My voice got caught in my throat and all I could force out was “Y-Yeah” before closing the door and stumbling towards my house.

Had I destroyed my friendship with the Pogues? It certainly felt like I had.

[sagasalamibrot]

Glisten's Fashion AU!

Someone on Fandom gave Me the Name, im still thankful for it- or Else i wouldnt have any Name honestly- 😭

Anyways.. Here comes the Star of the Show, Glisten!:

Glisten Takes Dandy His place in this AU. Yet isnt evil, okay Dandy is in the middle of Good and Bad but still. The Things that Happend arent fully His fault, If He knew what Could have Happend He wouldnt have agreed to that. (But im Not gonna Tell IT yet 👹). Now instead of Astro AS a Main we have:

Rodger! He is tired.. yeah and also tried to give him Something cozy yet also fancy.. the Stars on his cheek(?) were drawn by Toodles and Glisten added the Blush.

Mentioning Toodles, Here she is-! She Kinda is the Shelly in this AU.. she is overshadowed by the other main's popularity... yet the Others try to get her cheered Up, especially Pebs!

And Here is Our Boy Pebble! Pebble IS still a Main Just a different breed of Dog now (this Case poodle). Originally the sparkle Bandana was owned by Toodles but then Pebble got it due it becoming too small for Toodles. Also Pebble is now the Dog of Toodles.. Not of Dandy-

Now to Finn! He Kinda is Like Vee.. Just that He isnt the Game master (is it called like that-?) Like Vee in one of her Game shows... now He is a judge of the Fashion Shows! He can be very blunt.. also Barnaby in His head is wearing sunglasses (also the reason He wears purple). Also since Vee and Dandy have Like Beef, its now with Glisten and Finn. Lol. Also Here Barnaby:

Ahem.. now to Teagan, which is there in Sprout's place!

Teagan is Like a Queen, Wise, Nice and Fancy. She often has her eyes closed except when you fuck Up Badly and she is mad. And no. She is N O T Rodger's wife. I refuse to ship Teacase.. i Love Reflective Detective.. ahem.. but she is an Aunt to Toodles! Now.. since we got the Mains, now we Go to the Starters!

The First Starter is Dandy! He is a Gentleman.. and yeah i dunno what to say.. but since Dandy is a Starter, His Buddy of course too!

Astro! Astro IS Just a Bit more Fancy Ig, i think i undercooked this Design, ngl- 🤷

Here is Goob! Goob is playing an Important Role in this AU, due to him Being one of the designers, with Scraps! He and Scraps create creative and beautiful Outfits.. but only together. When they try solo they fail badly...

And Here is Scraps! She has fur now cuz i think her og Looks so bald 👹💀

And Here is Shrimpo! Shrimpo His clothing originally wasnt ripped.. He didnt Like His clothing and ripped a few parts off to fit His Style.. but this diva slays 💅✨

And Here is Poppy! Poppy looking fancy.. yet i dunno what to say Abt her yet :V

And since we got Poppy Here is Boxten:

Just Like in Poppy's Case i dunno what to say Abt him ngl-

Anygays, Glisten and Rodger also are a Thing, lol-

[bananabelsplit]

can you tell me everything about your jrwi pokemon art. starters, explanations whatever i just love them.

Sure! I mostly picked on vibes and types/ pokedex entries i thought fit them

Gill gets a kingdra mostly because it’s a strong, regal water and dragon type. i imagine he wouldve started out with a horsea, tynamo, and honedge. Eelektross for his connection to lightning, and palafin because. He’s a paladin . And from the ocean. Aegislash represents destiny’s blade, and gyarados represents the leviathans. Lunala is for lunadeyis, thats the only reason he gets a legendary. He also has a pink clobbopus (pretzel) that he doesnt keep in a pokeball.

Jay would’ve started out with a fletchling or rowlet for sure so i gave her both talonflame and decidueye. Talonflame more represents the ferins and decidueye for her ranger class. I gave her an armarouge because it has cannon arms and i wanted her to match with chips ceruledge… as well as call back to ava ferin, who i think would have an armarouge as well. She gets a dragapult because i think it’s cool and again, shooting theme. Corviknight because its a big scary bird that i like (and jay has her walls up so a steel type fits her well) . Finally, i gave her a cosmoem because i dont think she’s fully connected to aster yet. One day it will evolve into solgaleo, but she’s still reaching that point.

Chip’s team is definitely the most based on pokedex entries. I gave him a shiny roserade to represent the black rose pirates. Alolan marowak because of 1. Cubone’s sad pokedex entry about it crying for its mother after being orphaned and 2. It evolving into a fire type. Ceruledge because of his fighting style, fire and two blades. Krookodile because i think he would totally have a sandile when he was younger, and its a pokemon that grows up to be meaner (just like chip). Hisuian zoroark because its an illusory pokemon that disguises itself and its a vengeful spirit. Hmmm. Finally, i chose cofragrigus because of yamask’s entry. “It wanders through ruins by night, carrying a mask that’s said to have been the face it had when it was still human.”

I hope my choices make sense!

[jadeazora]

PLZA Wishlist/Hopes, gonna divvy it up between both, past, and present/future:

Both:

Obtainable AZ's Floette

At least one new Zygarde forme. Imagine if it could go beyond Complete.

An underground area based on the catacombs (doesn't have to be mass grave tho)

Hostile rogue Megas being our rampaging Noble equivalent

Bring over (at least most of) the ORAS Megas

More Kalosian Megas, or potentially re-introducing Battle Bond as a "pure variant" of it (especially since Mega Evolution was mentioned to have terrible effects on the Pokemon.)

Yveltal being a threat to the city at large at some point, with a team-up with Xerneas to corral it.

AZ getting more story importance.

Letter "A" Legendary Pokemon, perhaps based on one of the Kalos League statues?

Past:

Malva, Sycamore, Lysandre, and Diantha ancestors (I feel like Sycamore or Malva's ancestor has the highest probability of being our main villain)

I feel like it's more likely to get his Floette here? It's gonna be a hundred and something years till it returns to him, we can look after it in the meantime!

Old starters getting new regional forms a la PLA

Going more into depth about the discovery and origins of Mega Evolution.

More lore on the war from 3000 years ago.

Future:

Set maybe a couple decades after XY at most rather than the far future. (Descendants would be cool, but I'm more interested in the characters we actually know tbh.)

Sina and Dexio sharing a joint professor role since they give you the Zygarde Cube in the Alola games. They could potentially carry on that research.

Vastly expands outside of the Lumiose we had in XY, further into Kalos. (I always wanted to explore the ruins of the Ultimate Weapon.)

Villain Sycamore or Malva. Or both. Like I said when I brought this up before, I don't think Sycamore would be evil, just misguided and let his guilt get the better of him. Malva is still more of a villain, and we need more lady main villains in this series. It's only really been Lusamine and Sada (if you played Scarlet), but this girl had hella potential in XY, and it's always been super frustrating to me that she got so little screentime.

The Flare scientist girls too! The only one of them that really got any slight fleshing out was Xerosic.

Diantha gets more story importance. She's another character who got majorly shafted in XY and deserves another chance!

Kalos starters with new Megas, secondary Kanto or Hoenn starters.

Potentially canonize Lysandre's survival from Masters here. It would be neat to see him get stuck with the same immortality curse AZ has, condemning him to live in and adapt to the world he lost faith in.

What are some of the things you all want to see? 😄