#GOD I wanted to be her so bad when I was 9

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 9: The One Where You Choose Your Own Brazilian Adventure

My planned post – the “In Dedication of JVN” one where I fangirl over Jonathan Van Ness and what a fun and interesting piece of the Lukola puzzle he is – was derailed today because I was once again asked about Brazil. Well, more specifically, I was asked about whether I thought we were ever going to get those steamy, hopefully X-rated pictures, from Brazil. There’s pictures?!

In truth, I thought we’d collectively squeezed that grapefruit dry and left the rind somewhere between Italy and the Glamour Awards.

Alas, here I am writing about Brazil.

It’s funny because I’ve never thought much about Brazil. I know, I know! How could I possibly type those words without my nose growing six inches in front of my face? Well, it’s because it was always Australia that intrigued me. More on that later…

So why exactly do we believe there are pictures from Brazil? And, why do we think they are going to prove some kind of hot affair between Luke and Nicola? This theory is likely fueled by rumor; rumor born from how Luke and Nicola behaved towards each other while they were in Brazil.

I thought it would be fun to play a little game of “Choose Your Own Adventure” to determine if we’re ever going to see these alleged pictures. And, yes, I will be a very sarcastic bitch when doing this.

Before I start, though, I want to give a quick shout out to my dear friend, whom I shall call The-One-Who-Drops-Random-Pics-Into-Our-Group-Chat-and-Lets-Us-Sweat-Over-Them-for-Atleast-Three-Minutes-Before-Finally-Explaining-Them. She was a wealth of information about Brazil and even had a nice mother-daughter chat with me about the significance of a clean-shaven face (pardon me for never having dated a bearded man, which is odd because I find facial hair quite attractive).

Now, gather ‘round and I shall give you a little prologue to our adventure!

I’m sure most of you already know all about Brazil. In fact, many of you are probably self-described experts at this point. But, for those who are new here, let me go ahead and light the candles and set the ambiance for you. 

On May 19, Luke and Nicola were shuttled off to do their beach photoshoot in Brazil. You know, the one where Nicola was walking the dogs; Luke was strumming the guitar; Nicola was being all girlfriend-like fixing Luke’s jacket; Luke was gazing up at Nicola at the pub while she was touching his neck; and then there was that moment when we all thought they might kiss. Yeah, all that plus Luke’s scruffy face from the week prior suddenly appeared clean-shaven. Apparently, you can never be too “Casual” when you’re headed down south (pun intended – as was that Chappell Roan reference). And, about now is where I’ll “insert disclaimer that this is speculation only.”

The following day, we had the actual premiere. I’m not sure what those two were up to before the premiere but both were un-fucking-hinged by the time they made it to the red carpet. We had angel-face Nicola looking up at Luke like he had created the universe and Luke answering Nicola’s Little Red Riding Hood vibe with one sexy ass Big Bad Wolf persona. I mean, the bits and bobs that came out of Luke’s mouth that day! “There’s a carriage downstairs.” “I mean, in this heat, all I’m thinking about is when we didn’t have to wear clothes ‘cos that would be quite nice right now.” “I mean the show is proof that it is [okay to kiss your friends].” With Nicola whispering back, “This is true.” Then there was Luke taking that mic without taking his eyes off Nicola. We had Luke helping Nicola put on her bracelets because – God forbid! – she let go of him for 30 seconds to do it her fucking self. And, let’s not forget about the two of them holding on to each other behind that woman’s back (I’m sorry, I don’t recall her name and I’m too lazy to look it up – mainly, because I’m certain most of you don’t really care about that other woman).

We were also given snippets of Luke and Nicola at the premiere afterparty, looking like two people who, at a minimum, enjoyed each other’s company. They greeted fans outside the venue and, as they walked away together, Nicola seemingly put her hand on Luke’s lower back as if to guide him in the right direction (go ahead – let your imagination run wild – it’s a great opening for a FanFic).

Then, throw in the beach walk with the giant security guard; the interview where Nicola was wearing the fluffy pink skirt and the two of them talked about Chappell Roan’s “Kaleidoscope” (seriously, those two were listening to that song together?); Nicola couldn’t stop giggling about the “meat” of the Carriage Scene; and Luke appeared perhaps a smidge too interested in Nicola’s answer about what she looks for in a man (which fit perfectly into Luke’s “Like, how nice is it when someone notices, like, your kindness or your sense of humor?”). And, we can’t ignore them seemingly sharing a tea cup and Luke reaching for Nicola’s spoon after she’d sampled a dish. Don’t even get me started on over-analyzing Luke’s “manspread” that day.

Let’s also not forget about the rumor portion of this Brazilian escapade – because that is what fuels the sexy hot pictures theory and the central plot of our storied adventure.

Rumor has it Luke and Nicola spent a lot of time with each in Brazil.

By themselves.

In one or the other’s room.

On the beach.

By the pool.

There were also rumors of them making out in the hotel hallway.

The only evidence we have of any “alone time” are some pictures that were dumped on X of them dining together alone, without any other members of their team.

Now that the backdrop has been set, let’s go on my little adventure.

During the summer between my 7th and 8th grade years, I was bored out of my mind. I grew up in the countryside. No neighbors. No sidewalks. No cable! Just fields, wooded areas, and my two sisters, both of whom had no interest in entertaining me that summer. My mother suggested I read. After boredom had dug itself so far into my being that I was left with no choice but to read, I finally ventured over to the bookshelf and grabbed the thinnest book I could find. It was a “Choose Your Own Adventure.”

If you don’t know what a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book is, then you (and your children) are missing out. Basically, you play the role of the protagonist and make choices to determine the outcome of your story. Sometimes you make the right choice and survive; other times you make the wrong choice and get turned into a little mouse that may or may not be eaten by a cat.

Here we go.

As the protagonist of our story, you are:

THE EMPLOYEE

You’re an employee of the hotel Nicola and Luke stayed at while in Brazil. You have sworn to maintain the privacy of hotel guests; you’ve signed a non-disclosure agreement of sorts to protect the privacy of guests, especially since you have access to VIP areas. You can be a housekeeper, a watchman, a concierge, a seven-foot-tall security guard, whatever tickles your fancy. Doesn’t matter – you’re all bound by the same provisions to protect the privacy of the hotel’s guests. But, in this story, let’s say you’re the housekeeper because – what’s that old saying – the only person who knows everything going on in the house is the maid?

You’re cleaning Nicola’s room and you find lots of signs of a man being in the room. In fact, you find a coat that looks exactly like the one Luke was wearing the night of the premiere. Oh my. As you’re leaving, you see two people making out in the hallway – headed straight towards the room you’re just leaving!  It looks like Nicola and Luke. What do you do?

Choice A: Well, you’re a pervy housekeeper so you pull your phone out and start taking pictures. I mean, those two are so into each other, they don’t even notice. You then run and play show-and-tell with your friends because you can’t keep a damn secret. Unfortunately for you, that gossip spreads faster than lice in a preschool, and hotel management tracks your ass down because, guess what, your friends can’t keep a secret either. So, congratulations on being fired. You’re meeting with the lawyers is first thing in the morning. Oh, we also need your phone and the names of all your friends.

Choice B: You respect the privacy of Nicola and Luke and simply turn and walk the opposite direction. Taking photos of them never even crossed your mind! But, damn, what a good story to tell your bestie when you get home, even if you don’t have “receipts.”

THE VIP GUEST

You’re a random guest staying at the hotel. In fact, you’re a random VIP guest staying on the same floor as Nicola and Luke. When you checked in, you signed a non-disclosure agreement. I mean, you want your privacy protected, too! And, heck, NDAs are thrown out like candy these days. You’ve seen so many at this point, you don’t even bother to read them.

You take the elevator up to your floor and, as you step into the hallway, you’re confronted with – goddammit, there’s two motherfuckers all over each other! The guy is trying to slide his key into the door, but the woman’s dress is so awkwardly large, he can’t seem to find the right slot! You realize the people look a lot like those two stars from Bridgerton, and your best friend, Effie, is a huge fan! What do you do?

Choice A: You can’t believe Effie is missing out on this excitement so, of course, you pull your phone out and start taking pictures!! I mean, that NDA you signed didn’t even cross your mind three minutes later when you were forwarding the pictures to Effie! And, because you can’t control what Effie does, she forwards the pictures to all her Bridgie buddies. The next morning you awaken to find the pictures all over X. Oopsie. You feel slightly guilty, and a bit peeved at Effie – but only until you’ve had your morning coffee.

Choice B: You take people’s privacy very seriously. Well, maybe you don’t take it that seriously, but it would be too difficult to dig your phone out of your handbag to take pictures. And, to be honest, Effie is the huge fan, not you. Plus, it seems the guy finally got that door open and damn, based on the sounds of it, he's unlocked something magical. Oh well. You’ll call Effie in the morning to tell her your story, if you remember it.

THE RANDOM STRANGER

You’re a random stranger taking an evening stroll along the beach. You love the sound of the ocean. It’s so peaceful…the sound of the waves… Ugh, what is that noise?! It sounds like – shit, it is! – two people snogging in a cabana about 10 yards away from you. Wait a minute – is that? Yeah, you think it could be! I mean, you were just at the Bridgerton premiere last night! What do you do? Without hesitation, you pull out your phone!

Choice A: You creep behind an umbrella and zoom in as close as possible with your camera! I mean, shite! You can’t believe this! How long have you been filming?  Probably longer than necessary but who cares? Suddenly, you feel a presence behind you, perhaps a seven-foot-tall presence, and you slowly turn around. Fuck! Who’s this guy?! He takes your phone, drops it to the ground, and stomps on it, shattering its insides.  Asshole.  You bend down to pick up the phone, but the man taps your shoulder and shakes his head, “No.” Well, umm, yeah, I guess you best be leaving.

Choice B: You use your camera to zoom in on the couple. Snap! Snap! Snap! Then you get the FUCK OUT OF THERE! You tell yourself you don’t look suspicious at all, even though you’re practically running and your heart is about to pound its way out of your chest! Oh, thank God, you’ve made it to your car. You start it up and, like I said, YOU GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE! You get home and take a look at the photos! Goldmine! So, should you drop them on X? Maybe be a little see-you-next-Tuesday and try to sell them to Nicola or Luke’s teams? But, hell, you don’t even know where to start with that! Or, should you just pocket them for your own pleasure? You tell me….

The End.

Yes, I am absolutely being a facetious little ass! The above scenarios were for (the most part) my own entertainment. I mean, there are so many situations where these alleged pictures could exist (these playful ones don’t even scratch the surface). But, do the pictures exist?

If we’re being logical here, you would think that, if anyone in the general public were in possession of these alleged sexy-time pictures of Luke and Nicola, or had seen them, it would be all over social media at this point. I mean, ALL OVER. So, what can we deduce from the fact that they aren’t?

That the pictures probably don’t exist. Don’t shoot the messenger! Seriously, watch where you point that thing!

But, let’s say pictures did exist. Who is the most likely person to dump them on, say, X? The hotel employee, the VIP guest, or the random stranger? I would place money on the random stranger, followed by the VIP guest. The hotel employee, who probably has the most access to VIP guests but the strongest legal barriers, would be the least likely to photo dump. What is the likelihood that someone from one of these three groups – for example, a random stranger – (a) had pictures of Luke and Nicola, (b) didn’t drop them on social media, and/or (c) didn’t share them with someone who dropped them on social media?

I’m all for a good conspiracy theory but I find this one to be a hard pill to swallow.

Maybe one person can act as a lockbox for this kind of secret, but when you start including more people, the ability to keep something (like illicit photographs of two celebrities) out of the public eye diminishes rapidly.

Remember what Benjamin Franklin said, “Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead.”

Unfortunately, this quote is incredibly accurate. The general public cannot keep secrets.

If the pictures exist, they are most likely in the possession of Luke and/or Nicola’s team (of lawyers). So, unless they’re going to sneak them on to X for giggles (I mean, it’s been known to happen), you’re probably never going to see them – and that’s assuming they even exist.

However, if you’re the housekeeper from our first adventure and you happen to have some candid photographs you’re just dying to share, just find yourself a printer – one that cannot easily be linked back to you – and print them out. Then, “accidently” drop them at the feet of someone who knows exactly what they are, and then give them enough time to take their own photos of them and send them to their best friend’s brother’s sister-in-law’s third cousin’s wife’s neighbor, who could drop them on X for us. I mean, you should be golden with seven degrees of separation.

[tan1shere]

Her Favorite - Pt 3

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: this is the last part of this series I hope you all enjoyed it !! This was one of my favs to write <3

Summary: you're the teachers pet. Her. Favorite.

Warnings: smut, tension ? A small tiny argument, fingering, strap, r sucks billies tits, teasing from both parts, slight angst ??? Scissoring - let me know if I missed anything !

Tags - @trulyy-yourzz @eilishslut @brat-at-the-disco @iluvapplesxh @chrissv4mp @n0vabug @dollyvuu

Masterlist - pt 1 , pt 2

You didn't want to believe it, but she had been distant. Why? It was bugging you because all you wanted was her. Just her. And the more the time passes that's all you could think of. Her. Your God damn teacher. You could barely focus with the thought of her recently so when she had started this weird distancing. You were a bit hurt. But, you decide to try your best to ignore it. "Hey Y/n!" You hear Silvi say, approaching you. You turn to face her. "Oh hi!" You say cheerful. "Since we didn't get to hang out that one time I thought I'd invite you to this party I'm going to tomorrow night." You think for a moment.

"You know what yeah, I'd love to." She smiles and goes about her day. This couldn't hurt anyone right? That was unconvincing, you knew it'd bother someone. But then again that someone doesn't really seem to care currently. Why the hell not!

It was a Saturday and you were in her bed, things were quiet like they have been. Until she turns over and wraps her arms around you. "Sorry I haven't been that present. End of the year so it's hectic as a teacher." You look up into her eyes. Oh.. That's why, now you felt bad about going to this party. But why, you deserved to have fun. You just nod, going to kiss her cheek and sit up. "I uh, I'll just get going." Her brows furrow. "You know you can stay another night babe." You bite your lip. "Yeah but I just don't have a change of clothes here." She looks at you. "Those are fine, no?" You sigh. "I'm going somewhere."

Her head tilts with a grin. "What, no invite?" You stand up, causing her face to shift. Her features changing at your body language. "It's uhm, a school party. So it'd be a bit you know." She caught on. "Right, gotcha." Billies fear was infront of her, she didn't want to believe it. She was 9 years older than you ofcourse you needed to be around people your age. But she wondered if that was romantically too. She didn't want that, she just wanted you. "You hate parties though." It was true, you did. Then that jealousy kicks in. "Shes going to be there isn't she." You stay silent for a moment as you put your pants on, leaving her baggy t-shirt on.

You grab your keys,but she's up and out of bed. "Hey." She says when you don't respond, coming over and making you look at her. There was more silence as she finds the right thing to say. She wants to tell you to be careful and to not do this at all. But shes better than that. "Have fun ok?" You nod again, kissing one another before you leave. The kiss lingers on your lips, and you miss it. Did you even want to go to this party?

It was too late you were already there with Silvi, having a few drinks but never too much. You really didn't like parties but, you hadn't ever been to one so why fight something you haven't even tried. Laughing, talking, music. Honestly it was boring and you'd rather be spending it with Billie, in your underwear in the comfort. Eating crap, watching movies. That's all you'd want right now. But something pulled you out of that little day dream, you feel a hand on your thigh. Your senses going off, growing uncomfortable. You turn to see it was Silvi's you look at her as she must've done it subconsciously. Talking to whoever infront of her. But her next move wasn't so subconscious. Her hand slowly glides upwards making you get up from your seat.

Her face turns to you. But before anything else you go to find your way around into a room, not realizing she had followed. "Shit, I'm sorry I didn't even-" You shake your head. "It's fine. I just think I want to go home." Not think. You were certain. "You sure?" Your brows furrow slightly. Feeling uneasy. "Positive." She comes over and sits by you. "We could go soon, you got somewhere to be?" Yes. At our teachers house. "No I just, don't really want to be here." She gets closer. You felt icky. "Please just take me home." Her demeanor changes. "Fine." Your brows furrow again, what the fuck was up with her.

You were close to Billies place. "Just let me out here." She slows down. "This isn't your place." You go to open the door. "I know it's a friend's." She didn't seem to really care. Wow, Billie was right she wasn't any good. "Bye." You say closing the door, watching her zoom off. You felt gross, wanting to get in there and find some sort of comfort. You knock on the door, getting greeted by a slightly sleepy Billie. "Hey, no fun?" You shake your head, noticeably seeming down. You step in. Being greeted by the smell of her place. It was such a beautiful smell. "Something happen?" You give it a moment. "Nah, just wanted to be in comfort tonight." She sensed something was up, but going to let it be for now.

"Ok well, the beds missing you." You smile at her. "I'm missing the bed." She puts a hand over her heart. "You and my bed might as well date, you like it more than me." You giggle, shoving her lightly. She loved making you laugh or even smile. It made her feel powerful that she could make that happen, it made her heart happy to hear and see. You both get into the bed once you get out of that annoying dress. You eventually fall asleep in one another's arms.

Wednesday, Wednesday. Wednesday. Things seemed to be normal again, which you were thankful for. Today was a stripped shirt and tie day. And she looked tasty as ever. You were in a very playful mood so today you went with yet another short skirt. Her eyes land on it instantly. Giving you a look, but you just returned it with an innocent smile. The shirt you were wearing wasn't helping either. Tight. You were honestly thanking the universe that Silvi wasn't there today. You don't need some repeat of a few weeks ago. At the end of the lesson you slowly get your things, everything was so slow, intentionally so. You go over to her desk, her eyes not meeting yours just yet even though everyone's gone.

"Hi!-" "What are you wearing." Her tone was calm, knowing good and well she was far from that. "Well hello to you aswel." Your eyes roll. "And I thought you loveddd my skirts." She stands. "Why are you testing me today hm?" You shrug. "Good thing Silvi wasn't here to drool over it." You cringed slightly, remembering she was right about her. But you soon roll your eyes again. "Whatever I seriously-" But her hand was around your neck, you tense slightly but only for a moment. It was just her, you didn't need to worry. You had actually been doing that alot recently, that whole interaction had frightened you to say the least, you felt weak and out of your own control in that moment that night.

It was frightening without a doubt. "Don't test me babygirl." Her tone was full of warning, you gulp. Clenching your thighs. Her head motion down as you do, letting out a dry chuckle. "Really? You like me doing this?" Your words go. But her hand soon leaves, causing you to whine. You wanted more. She goes back over to her desk. "I'll just finish that up then we can head to mine." You had forgotten it was the end of the day. Score. You think for a moment. "Yes ma'am." She laughs a tad, shaking her head. She thought you were being silly. No, you were dead serious. So when that doesn't work you resort to your next trick. Your eyes scan her desk.

Seeing a pencil laying there, your fingers go to move it off. "Oopsies, my bad." She wasn't really paying attention, she was finishing a few things. But her head turns as shes faced with your ass. Her eyes widen as she spots the second fucked thing you did today. Her eyes look around as if someone would see. Everyone left. Her eyes return as you slowly stand up. She grabs the bottom of your skirt pulling it as much down as she could. "Are you serious?" She then says. Your head turns to her. "Whattt?" Her eyes widen again, brows furrowing tremendously. "You were sitting there. For almost an hour with nothing on!?" You giggle. "Nooo, I just took them off. But you weren't looking sooo." Her temper shines through. "Jesus fucking christ."

She's surely worked up from seeing your bare cunt on display for her. "Office. Go." You bite your lip. And boom, you got what you want. So you thought. She locks the door behind her, coming up behind you and pushing you over her desk. Causing you to bend over. "Might just tease the fuck out of you and leave you here." Your head turns to look back at her. "You wouldn't." - "Oh yeah?" Her finger makes contact with your folds. "Imagine if someone had walked in." She was still mad, making her finger retract. This was going to piss you off sooner or later. She grabs her tie, bringing it over your exposed ass.

"Out in the open like that." It travels around to your neck, she wraps it around tightening ever so slightly. "With this stupid fucking skirt." It tightens more, you gasp. But it then loosens as she grabs your wrists, tying them together. Causing you to fall further into the desk, the coolness hitting your cheek. Her hand makes contact with your hair, pushing just a tad. "Please, I'm sorry." You then plead. She chuckles maniacally. "Bad girls don't get treated nicely." You bite your lip as you think of a response. "Teach me to be good then." You say, your voice soft. It was her turn to bite her lip. "You gunna listen?" You nod. "Answer me." - "Yes, Ms O'Connell." She lets out a breath, finding the way you say it so hot.

Her hands fiddle with the belt around her waist, pulling out your favorite one of her straps. It was the second most large one she owned. And in an instant it's prodding your hole, ready for access. Your back arches, moving around to try get it in. "Don't dig your grave further." She says stilling your hips. "B-" You stop yourself. This was already bad you couldn't make things worse. Little did you know. The tip slides in, not fast enough but you keep your mouth shut. No whines, no protests no nothing. Not until she bottoms out inside you. Your mouth hangs open at the feeling. "This fucking skirt." Her fury was still evident. Very. Evident. Especially when she snaps her hips hard against you.

The stretch made your eyes squeeze shut, your legs almost doing the same but her hands make sure that doesn't happen. Your brain went into a frenzy, biting your lip so hard you draw some blood. Your tongue swipes over it, letting out a small hum. She looks at why you had done that, seeing your blood lip. She looks at it for a split second, then your eyes. The way they roll back as she's giving you backshots on her fucking desk. You were like a drug to her, she found you to be the most precious thing ever. "Gunna cum? Can feel you getting tighter." Her body leans over yours, her hands on the brown wood. Either side of your body. Her thrusts were ungodly. "Mm, yes!" You gasp as it hits your g-spot. "Found it." You moan. Cumming immediately.

She pulls out bringing you up and making you sit on the desk. Kissing your lips, tasting that same thing you tasted moments ago. Slowly pushing you back, feeling the cold desk against you. She was hovering over you, no words being said. She gets up close to you. "Maybe you should get it into your head..." Her voice low. Her hand moves to wrap around your neck her strength pulling you up and off her desk just slightly. Your eyes widen as she does. "You're mine." But you smirk, sealing the whole situation with one last kiss.

Fridays were probably your favorite, not only was it the end of the week, but you got to see your hot girlfriend. As you enter you're blinded by today's outfit. How would you ever focus. The dang glasses. The way her top fit perfectly, the long skirt. You sit down in your spot. Fixated on her cleavage. You needed to stop this was bad. Then you thought for longer. Was this pay back? Was she giving you a taste of your own medicine from the other day? Your heart skips a beat when she makes eye contact with you. Your thighs squeeze. She was so evil.

You were begging for this to be over and soon. You were also begging to suck on her t- "Y/n? You with us?" You gulp quietly, but her eyes watch your throat. She knew. "Oh, yes. Sorry." This was absolute torture. But you let out a relieved sigh when it was finally time. Everyone goes to leave as you go over to her. "Hi!" You say happily. She smirks. "Hi babygirl." That fucking nickname. "You good today?" Oh God the way she was speaking. "Yes." You knew she was asking how you were feeling, not how you would be acting for her. On your knees, obeyi- "Earth to Y/n?" Your head shakes. "Huh?" She smiles. She's got you right where she wants you. "I asked if you were ready to go my love?"

"Mhmm!" You say wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. You needed her. So bad. So when you get to hers your legs rush to her room, her slowly following. You whine at how long she's taking. "Billieee." She laughs. "Yes pumpkin?" You glare at her, getting frustrated. But you were just so needy there was no room for your bratty remarks. "Pleaseeee." You say, from your spot on the bed. She comes over, getting ontop of you. Thankfully there was a slit in the skirt so she could maneuver properly. Her hand moves over your body, moving to your soaked underwear. She hums to herself. Knowing exactly what she's upto. And glad she's succeeding.

Her finger slips past and enters you a little bit. You gasp. "Remember to breathe." ..... "Good girl." Her fingers enter you slowly. But your eyes are glued to her tits. They just looked so incredibly good in that outfit. Your hands move to touch but she grips them. "Uh uh. Since you didn't have a proper punishment the other day you need to learn your mistakes." You huff, is she serious? She can't be. You just wanted to wrap your lips around them and you wanted to do it now. "That's not fair." You mumble. Her brows raise.

"No? Not fair huh? Let's circle back to you wearing that tight, shirt and tiny tiny skirt. I had to focus on teaching, I had to refrain from fucking the living shit out of you because you indeed looked God damn hot in it. I had to wait a whole. Hour. You can't wait that, and a bit more. Can't you?" You swallow. Having no words. "Bu-" "Uh uh. Don't but me, you know good and well." You let out a moany, huff. "Come on now, don't be like that angel. You'll get what you want. You just have to work for it." You wriggle. "Ah! Lesson learned, I won't do it again." She doesn't even let your hand move to touch before she's pinning them down. "What, did I say."

And you caved, you were too far gone with need to care. "Please, Billie I'm sorry I wore such a revealing skirt like that in public, you know I won't do it again. I promise and if I break it you can do such horrible things and I'll have to take it just please. Please let me suck them." You were almost on the verge of tears, but man was she enjoying every bit of this. "You want to suck them huh?" She ponders as you nod manically. "Please, I need to so bad." She still thinks. "No wonder you were so wet." You whimper. Oh that sweet whimper. And within an instant that shirt is loose. Her tits spill out right before your eyes.

Your thighs sqish tightly as your mouth latches so fast. Closing your eyes. She bites her lip, watching you suck. Bite. Do it all. You were too far gone. Incredibly far. The way you swirld your tongue made her grunt. The feeling so good. Her hand makes its way into your hair, stroking it as you do so. "You are a good girl, shit." She breathes. But she nearly goes mental with your next words. "Mmm, mommy." Her eyes look at the headboard processing. She grabs your face, kissing you with such hunger. Your subby state makes it sloppy. Moaning into the kiss. "Say that again." She says against your lips. And as you were about to. Her finger is back in your pulsing cunt. "F-fuck! Mommy." - "Mm, good. Louder."

Her fingers speed up as you go to again. "Mommy!" It was music to her ears. If she wasn't inlove before she sure as hell is now. "Cum for me, go on." Her fingers enter deep. Making your head spin, and eyes roll back. Gushing all over her fingers. Her eyes look down, looking at the white substance. "You, my girl. Are just one sexy thing huh?" Your head rests back out of breath. "You're sexier."

Weeks pass. Things were back to how they were a few months back. Everyime something beautiful happens it gets ruined and by what? It was eating at you. Was it you? What was going on. You wanted to ask but that'd just opened room for her asking what had happened that night. She had asked the day after if you wanted to talk about it but you declined and said it wasn't important. Maybe you should've told her. You didn't want her freaking out or even saying- 'I told you so.' But when she notices your strange behavior over the last few days its making her want to know more.

The other day.

You had just woken up, making some food, when you hadn't heard her come in. You had on her t-shirt and some underwear, humming away to yourself. When a hand touches your thigh, the same thigh that she touched. You jump back, turning to look at her. She was about to apologize for giving you a fright, but then she remembered. She's done that dozens of times before. You always knew it was her and you always put your head on her shoulder. So when none of that happened she gets more confused. "You've been doing that alot recently angel, everything ok?" You're silent for a bit. "Yeah! Just didn't hear you come in." Such a lie. Even if that was true, she knew something had to be up with the way you reacted. "Okay.."

She thrusts into you slowly, it was all sweet. Everything was. The eye contact, the intimacy. Her thrusts soon speed up, wanting to get you to that bliss feeling. Loving how she always could. She was getting closer to. But everything in the room changes. She touches that sane spot on your thigh making you tense up and gasp. She hadn't noticed at first seeing as you gasp all the time. What was it with that thigh. It wasn't even because of Silvi. But for some reason she triggered it. Something happened ages ago and it was slowly coming back to you. Your hand wraps around her wrist.

Causing her attention to be on you, her brows furrow as she sees your discomfort. She would never ever want to hurt you in any way. "Too fast?" You think for a second, you had to lie you couldn't tell her what was truly bothering you. You then nod, her hand moving to your hip. Soothing any further discomfort. "Sorry babe."

She begins the lesson for today, writing on the board. After that one night things were still dry in the air. You honestly hated it, but it was probably all your fault all along. That's what you'd been telling yourself. But it wasn't all you. Billie was in fact distancing. It was the last thing that she wanted but she was falling hard for you. One half of her didn't care about the fact she was falling for someone so amazing. She loved it, and then the other half wondered if you could do better. When your in your early 30s she will be in her 40s. It didn't sound that bad but it was intense to think about. Let alone the fact she's still your teacher. Even if the year was ending for you this year, you wouldn't have to be as secret atleast.

This was her brain constantly, weighing out the pros and cons. But why should she, she knew what she felt was real despite all of that. But she cared too much about you. She just wanted you to be happy and she didn't know if that was with her. But she definitely looked good today. It made you miss how closer you were before the weird change. You hardly went over to hers anymore and it hurt. It really hurt. "Sorry I'm late." It was Silvi, she had been gone for over a month. You had no idea why. But you avert your gaze, feeling uncomfortable. Remembering that night so clearly. "That's alright, take a seat." Billie gives her a kind smile. Continuing to talk about today's lesson. When her eyes land on you, she notices that sane discomfort like the other night. All she wants to do is comfort you. But she had to stay professional.

She can deal with this afterwards. As the class nears the end she spots how you shift in your seat when Silvi walks past. Her brows furrow, now she was determined to figure out what had happened. Did she do something?

The car ride was silent. It was bugging the both of you but none of you say a thing. As the night goes on it proceeds to consist. Until she speaks up, finally. "You've been weird lately, especially that night that you came home strange from that party and you'd refuse to tell me what happened. And even the other night when-"

"Not now Billie please." - "So you admit something happened?" You stay quiet continuing to take your makeup off. "If not now when? Huh? You keep putting it off whenever I ask you if you're ok. I worry about you for fuck sakes." You turn around so fast. "Bull fucking shit. You've been distancing yourself again! I know damn well its not school. So what is it?" Now she's silent. "What, happened. At. That. Party." You turn to face the mirror. "If you won't tell me why you're distant I won't be telling you that." She was seething, you'd never seen her so angry before. But you didn't care you were getting annoyed too.

Then within seconds her hand Flys to your wrist, you jump getting a fright. She stops in her tracks. "She touched you. Didn't she." You Avert her eyes. "No." Hers squint, not believing that for even a second. "Did she?" - "Billie."

"Did she fucking touch you?"

"Yes. But I stopped it God, why are you so worried." Her brows furrow. "Because, you didn't give her consent to do that! That stupid bitch just thought she could do whatever."

"Why are you so worried when I stopped it." - "She could've pressured you." You shake your head. "Do you think I'm stupid or something?" She puts her weight on her left foot. "You know I don't think that." - "Again. Why are you so fucking worried when you're the only one I want touching me." The room fell silent, a slight need creeping in the air. Her face moves, eyes locking into your own. Her feet move, but so do yours. Lips instantly crashing on the others. Everything grew heated. "Only one?" You nod. "Only one." You both say between kisses. "It's only ever been you." Those words fuel everything in her.

Backing you up out of the bathroom and onto the bed her kisses trail down your neck, down to your cleavage. She takes all that you were wearing off, seeing you all. She then takes her clothes off, leaving you in awe about the special moment that was about to happen. Just you and her, closer than ever. When her cunt slots perfectly into yours you both let out a long well needed moan. This was all you ever wanted, it's all she ever wanted. To have you close in this way. She moves against you, her body moving closer to your own as your breasts touch. Her lips meet yours as she kisses you.

It was the sweetest kiss ever. Full of every emotion. As her movements pick up she pulls back loving how this all felt. "I love you." You were taken aback for a second. But that soon goes away. "I love you." You then reply, she was so happy. Your hands go to her face. "I'm inlove with you." Her heart melts, that's all she ever wanted. She just had no idea if you'd feel the same. "Together." She says softly, putting loose strands of your hair away from your face to see you better. You nod as she picks up momentum, feeling that amazing feeling building up. She feels it too, she feels it all. And with one last move of her hips your both gushing against one another.

You grab her face going to kiss her again, both smiling into it. She lays back on the bed, holding you in her arms. "Why I was distancing honestly had nothing to do with you. It was just my fucked up brain scared I'd ruin things and I nearly did." Your hand rests on her shoulder as you're both on your sides. "Bills. You could never ruin things, I think I've loved you for a very long time, but I too, was afraid. I'd never want you to feel like you had to choose me." She shakes her head. "I'd choose you in a million life times, over and over again." Her hands hold your face. This whole moment was just perfect. It was good to clear up things and communicate. Her eyes wander to your thigh. "I hope you know you can tell me anything at all. I'm here for you, always."

You nod as she says that. You trust her, which was hard for you. You thought this whole school would change that and it had. All because of her. You grab her hand moving it to that exact thigh. You let out a small breath as she watches your face, scans it. Her thumb moving over it soothingly. "Did something deeper happen to you?" You look at her. Thinking for a moment. "Nothing you need to worry about."

Except there was something deeper. Massively, that you knew youd have to tell eventually. And you would. Youd tell her everything. She was now your everything.

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #9: OBJECT OF AFFECTION

(also on spotify!)

O, wayward soul, I beg of thee an ear; Companionship, a Constant of desire, is all too fleeting. Would thee quell this fire? My love, do you know what you want to hear?

Welcome back to the Constant Companions Closeups - a series of in-depth dives into the songs off of my latest album, Constant Companions! Yesterday was some gay shit (Liaison) and today is some more gay shit (Object of Affection)

---

I'm usually pretty good about letting go of the things I make and letting them live imperfectly, but there is exactly one released song of mine that I've ever been actively unhappy with the final product of, that I haven't been able to let go of my displeasure with.

Honor Majesty, off of Autumn Every Day.

It's not that it's a bad song, or that it didn't have good ideas! In fact, I genuinely think it shares more with the music I make now than a lot of my older work does. Rather, it was incredibly rushed and full of uninspired choices I made for the sake of completing the song rather than making it the best version of itself, and it ultimately ended up falling incredibly flat relative to what I wanted it to be!

I really like the intersection of synthpop/electropop and fantasy. One of my favorite musicians ever is Baths, whose album Romaplasm is chock full of this exact thematic and sonic intersection, and it's so deeply inspiring to me that it still gets put on whenever I want to dream things up. I've always wanted to make things like that! Bubbly and fantastical, brimming with a sense of magic so pervasive it makes even the mundane seem mystic.

...Also I'm just a fantasy dork okay. I like wizards and shit. Sue me

I've been wanting to make a grandiose and fantastical story song for years, and my single attempt to do so felt like it missed the mark entirely. I did touch on fantasy a couple times on Bittersweet, but ultimately, when I started working on this album, I knew exactly what I wanted to take a second crack at.

---

The intended story in question here is fairly vague, but to sum it up as literally as possible:

A rebellious, disobedient, gender-questioning prince has mildly inconvenienced "his" royal lineage one too many times. Their solution is to invoke magicks widely regarded as heretical - what's a fantasy monarchy without some hypocrisy - to seal their "son's" soul within an automaton body, rendering "him" a perfect, subservient doll.

This doll is promptly spirited away under cover of darkness by a mage, and is granted free will once again. She experiences the crushing weight of newfound self-awareness and nearly spirals out of control, before realizing the mage who saved her is the same - a doll. It turns out being a magical-mechanical construct has its perks if you are TRANSGENDER. then they overthrow the monarchy and fuck nasty or whatever idk this is where the story gives way to things like "metaphor"

this is a song about artifice and being transgender

Seriously, though, I know that being an electronic-music-producing transgender lesbian with a thing about dolls or robots or whatever is a major endless-store-shelves-of-identical-buzz-lightyear-action-figures moment on my part, but dammit, I own a copy of Logic Pro and a genuine leather wizard hat, I inject estrogen into my stomach fat every Wednesday, and I think ball joints are cute. I'm posting this on Tumblr, for gods sake, I am unconcerned as an active choice

---

With the exception of Liaison, the entirety of Constant Companions utilizes only three unique vocal synth characters - ANRI, Gumi, and Teto. This trifecta was born organically from simply being the vocal synths I enjoy using the most, and in this song, I wanted to use all three of them almost like one single singer, freely shifting intonation based on the context. I messed with this idea before on Ballroom, my voice meshing and melting into Gumi V3's voice, but it felt especially appropriate for this context; Plus, I feel like there aren't a lot of examples of vocal synths being used/recontextualized in this way, and that's a shame in my opinion!!

I really want to do more story-driven songwriting like this in the future as well. Now that I'm a bonafide VocaloP I've been floating the idea of doing a song series with this trio... I'm mostly just worried I'll want to get too ambitious with it.

Off the top of my head, Object of Affection references at least eight other songs of mine - Honor Majesty is an obvious one, but it also directly samples parts of Autumn Every Day, and lyrically references genuinely just a bunch of things. I'm probably forgetting some, even!

I know I'm the Leitmotif Lover, but it's a lot even by my standards. However, this song's entire existence already served to satisfy a fairly self-indulgent desire, and these days, I don't deal in half measures. I think the final product serves as a lovely little look back at where I've come from, though, and perhaps even a little glimpse into the future!

That all being said, Object of Affection in some sense is also a love letter to a beloved part of my creative process - the voice memo. A lot of the audio I've provided with these posts have been recordings off my phone for good reason! Not only are the chops at the beginning of the song entirely comprised of edited recordings I got on my phone, but the sample at the very end happens to be from a particularly legendary recording, never before heard by the public...

Until now. I present to you an excerpt from "the worst beat on planet earth", featuring none other than unit.0.

That's about it for today!! If you have any questions, I'll gladly answer them below, but otherwise, I'll be back here tomorrow to talk about this album's title track laid askew - My Darling, My Companion!

[tanjir0se]

I’m so sorry other character stans but Toph Beifong is THE character of all time

Disabled, doesn’t “overcome” it but adapts and forces others to adapt instead.

Spoiled rotten rich kid with refined rich kid manners but chooses not to use them unless weaponizong them, can should and will kick your ass, but honest and good at her heart

A PROFESSIONAL WRESTLER EARTHBENDING MASTER AND HUSTLER AT AGE 12

Literally the definition of swag from womb to tomb

Do I even need to bring up metalbending?

INVENTED METALBENDING

Violence to show affection

Aang and Sokka quite possibly the only thing holding her back from straight up murder several times.

Definition of “do you want me to kill that guy for you? Cause it seems like he sucks. And I’ll totally kill that guy for you”

^ this is the real reason we never got a Toph and Zuko teamup, it would probably take her 3 minutes to convince Zuko to just kill his dumb lame dad already

I’m soooo sorry but she is UNMATCHED. Toph Beifong for President

[seaweedstarshine]

Thinking about the convolution of Eleventh Doctor's expressions of love for River Song in Season 7B. He does not trust Clara. He is utterly (wrongly) convinced that he and Clara are playing a grand manipulative game together. “What are you, eh?! A trick? A trap?!!”

So naturally, the last thing he should do in this game is to clue his opponent in on something that could be used to hurt him. Something like River, so painfully near the end of their time together, whose data ghost he can always see, who “it would hurt too much” to acknowledge. He can't let Clara know of the loss which constantly floods his senses; (“You are always here to me. And I always listen, and I can always see you,” he professes, once Clara has vanished into his timestream).

And yet. River fills his every moment (irregardless of any sneaking out for dates with increasingly-young Rivers while Clara is asleep like he did while the Ponds slept, which would explain his absence when the TARDIS is hiding Clara's bedroom). Even though it's not strategic, he can’t help but tell Clara about her. The best defense he can manage is to phrase it as if River isn’t as important to him as she is. Not only is avoiding her first name in his grief; he's also completely avoiding pronouns; which seems extreme given that he's still mentioning her as often as: “Oh yeah, of course he has! Professor Song! Sorry, it's just I never realized you were a woman.”

Leave out the emotion — leave out the details — don't show the cracks in the armor — play the part — win the game.

“Well, there's no point now. We're about to die. JUST TELL ME WHO YOU ARE.”

[zorkaya-moved]

> Vacher created this drink after discovering the effects of Primordial Seawater after being diluted with normal water. He manufactured and marketed it to fund his experiments, earning a lot of money through doing so.

> Vacher was an adventurer from Snezhnaya who traveled to Fontaine.

> Marcel, real name Vacher, is a quest-exclusive NPC that appears as one of the main antagonists in the Archon Quest Chapter IV: Act II - As Light Rain Falls Without Reason.

With all due respect, Genshin, can we fucking stop mostly using Snezhnayans as main antagonists in Genshin storyline and keep making Traveler have 9/10 people be a damn villain? This is getting very damn old. 'From Snezhnaya' and ofc I see negative connotations next to it or affiliation to it.

Hi, so, if I'm ignorant about this forgive me I'll catch up on the story quests this week.

I had to rant in tags. pls don't read if you don't want to hear rus-tatar's thoughts on representation of snezhnaya across the story AGAIN. i look back on remun's post and scream internally all over again.

P.S. I understand Harbingers are supposed to be the villains, Tsaritsa, yadda yadda but if Tartaglia's quest showcased Snezhnayan's culture in a better light, Genshin can get its shit together and write Snezhnayan NPCs better with some more quests to expose bits and pieces of their WARMER culture. They CAN give us more NPCs who can show doubt, concern, be friendly to others, try to help out. There are TONS of ways to do that.

[big-tees-and-short-skirts]

ah, so the misophonia is part of the sensory processing disorder + etc. of course.

[weepingvines]

Our mom has been staying with us in our 1 room Studio Apartment for the past 3 days and I'm already this || close to a fucking meltdown.

[monoxidecahedron]

i need a boyfriend so bad its not even funny guys. like . human connection when

[fazcinatingblog]

Went to the toilet for the first time today at 2pm (Colleening), got out and Sophia had called so I rang her back and she's like "have you got any invoices out??? What have you done all day????"

[jirsungs]

NO IDEA ☆ l.dh

pairing: loser!donghyuck x fem!reader

no idea synopsis: a story where both you and lee donghyuck seem to get what you want. he's the perfect pawn in making your ex-boyfriend jealous and the smarty pants tutor helping you pass your math class. donghyuck has it easy too, he's finally able to seek out and experience the world of dating through you, his long-devoted crush and surprisingly enthusiastic tutoring student. but then again, when meaningless tutoring sessions soon evolve into reciprocated feelings, is it really that easy?

genre: college au, nonidol au, fake dating au, social media au (includes written chapters), classmates to friends to lovers, he's a nerd & she's a popular cheerleader (you see where this is going), he fell first but she fell harder trope, kinda based off to all the boys i've loved before, fluff, crack/humor, angst, one-sided pining that turns into mutual pining

warnings: explicit language, unrealistic college partying, talks about family issues (this does NOT reflect any of the idol's families!), yuqi has an ex gf, some alcohol consumption, kys and sexual humor, bullying, hyuck and his buds are mistreated ☹️, hyunjin is a bad bf!!!, cheesy af, unrequited love, bad insults that sound like they're from the 2000s, HELLA miscommunication

no idea playlist: btr's no idea, taylor swift's you belong with me, the vamps + demi lovato's somebody to you, james arthur's can i be him, ariana grande's daydreamin, fitz & the tantrums' out of my league, shawn mendes' treat you better, bruno mars' just the way you are, lonely god's marlboro nights, the 1975's i'm in love with you, sam smith's like i can, arctic monkeys' wanna be yours

author's note: FIRST HYUCK SMAUU! how we feeling 😏 i needed to get this idea out of my system! plus, i love this type of trope, and haechan just fits the nerdy role 😭 I HAD TO! but happy reading :D <3

comment if you wish to be tagged for the story's updates!

profiles: "ncu freaks" + jeno 🤔 | gal pals & two men

intro. #manifestationiskey 🩷

ep 1. but a FAILING?

ep 2. i guess i'm her tutor

ep 3. WHY IS HE ATTRACTIVE

ep 4. COUGH y/n bag him COUGH

ep 5. i know i can treat youuu bettterr

ep 6. YNHYUCK PLOT IS FINALLY SAILING!

ep 7. bro texts with his 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 𝓪𝓵𝓹𝓱𝓪 mode on 🐺👅

ep 8. bro fumbled HARD 🤦‍♂️

ep 9. LET THE BOY LIVE!! HES IN LOVE!!

ep 10. THE HARD LAUNCH GOES CRAZY

ep 11. lemme guess, fake boyfriend responsibilities? (written)

ep 12. jeno got me up... plotting

ep 13. AMAZING fake boyfriend

ep 14.

ep 15.

ep 16.

ep 17.

ep 18.

more to come. . .!

started: 09/06/24 finished:

© JIRSUNGS. ANY TRANSLATIONS/REPOSTS/PUBLISHES OF MY WORKS ON ANY PLATFORM ARE STRICTLY PROHIBITED! ALL COMMENTS, REBLOGS, LIKES, & FEEDBACK ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED! THANK YOU SO MUCH! I LOVE YOU, MWA! <3

[moonstruckme]

OMGGGGGGG

the first kiss was so cute!!! perfect!! james was so sweet and gentle w her😍😭😭

can’t wait to see there dynamic from now on

Thank you gorgeous! I held onto this so I'd have something to post this last part to, hope you don't mind <3

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

James is buzzing while he makes breakfast the next morning. Golden morning light pours in through the front windows, brightening the kitchen and warming his back where he stands in front of the stove, the buttery smell of pancake batter wafting up from the pan. He’d gone to bed later than usual last night and slept hard but woke jittery, desperate to do something about the commotion in his chest. 

A run hadn’t done it, nor had replaying the previous night in his head, and now he’s convinced he won’t be able to rest until he can kiss you again. It’s your fault, really. Your little sighs, your careful touches, the way you’d tugged at the roots of his hair when he asked you to, like all this time you’d only been waiting for permission. You’ve fucked him. James will never be able to get over it. Now, all he can think about is getting more. 

He’s made more pancakes than a family of five could eat when he hears the stair creak. 

“Good morning,” he says, turning around just as you pad into the kitchen, quiet as a ghost. 

Your eyes are bleary, but they still manage to widen slightly as you take him in, along with the precarious tower of pancakes beside him. You’re in that sweatshirt he loves so much, sleeves hanging limply from your hands and hem hitting just above your knees. 

“Morning,” you say, softer than soft. 

“How’d you sleep, lovely?” 

You shrug, not quite looking at him. “Fine. You?” 

James grins. “Beautifully. You want some pancakes?” 

Your gaze goes again to the stack beside him, and he can practically see the quip brewing in your eyes. Doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice. Are you planning to feed an army?

“Sure,” you say in that same quiet voice. “Thanks.” 

James studies you, intrigued. “Great. C’mere, sweetheart.” 

He plates up a few pancakes, keeping one eye on you as he does. You seem disinclined to look even in his general direction, finding distractions with the stove, your plate, the weather outside. 

“How’s this?” He turns around with the plate. You take it cautiously, by the complete opposite end to avoid any possibility of making contact with his hand. James’ heart warms at the way your fingers just peek out from the sleeve of your sweatshirt to grasp the plate. He wants to kiss you until you don’t know what day it is. “Too many? Not enough?” 

“This is good.” 

“Yeah?” He doesn’t let go of the plate. He tilts his head, trying to catch your eye, but you evade him. He has a hunch that if he were to touch your face (and god, does he want to) he’d find it burning hot. “Are you alright?” 

Your eyes flit up to his for a half a second before fleeing again. You hum, the sound tense and pitchy. “Mhm.” 

“You sure?” he asks, matching your soft tone. “Don’t go getting shy on me now.” 

You look like you stop breathing. 

And ordinarily James might feel bad, but post-kiss James cannot be prevailed upon to treat you as cautiously as he ordinarily might. Unfortunately for you, your secret’s out. You’re lovely, you’d said, voice soft and breathy and mere inches from his own mouth, I like having you around. I do. I really like you. Also unfortunately for you, post-kiss James knows things. 

He slips his palm alongside your face, working his hand behind your ear and letting his fingers burrow into the hair behind it. You melt, leaning into the touch. Your eyes meet his. 

It’s grueling work to keep from smiling. “What’s wrong, angel?” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say, still quietly but now with more of yourself in your voice. 

“Really? Because you’re acting like we’ve just met.” 

“Don’t you��don’t things feel different to you?” You seem almost distressed, eyebrows hooking upwards just slightly, pretty eyes imploring. Your voice softens again, now more with intimacy than reticence. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to talk with you about.” 

James lets his smile loose, thumbing at the skin behind your ear before letting you go. “We can talk about anything you want,” he says simply, grabbing his own plate and leading you into the living room. 

You’ve got a perfectly good kitchen table but almost never use it, each preferring to eat your meals on the couch. He flops down, careful not to tip his pancakes onto the cushion as he crosses his legs underneath him like you’re at a sleepover. 

“So, have any fun dreams last night?”  

You smile. It’s as heart-stoppingly lovely as always, and James thinks his own probably doubles in magnitude in response. 

“A couple,” you admit. 

“Oh? What about?” 

Your smile goes sheepish, bottom lip slipping in between your teeth as if to impede its progress. You fork clinks against the plate as you start cutting up your pancake. 

James’ brain short-circuits. 

“You were in my dream,” he blurts. 

Your eyes flit up to his warily. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. It was one of those weird, super vivid dreams where nothing really happens, you know?” You seem to relax a bit. James douses his pancakes in syrup, starting to cut them up as he talks. “We were here, and someone had spilled something on the rug—probably Sirius, to be honest—and it made this huge stain. I’d tried to pour baking soda on it, but the whole box had collapsed and it got everywhere. We were both sitting right there scrubbing with literal toothbrushes, and I think I was worried you’d be upset with me but you were just laughing.” His heart warms at the pseudo-memory, the hazy feeling of contentment that had permeated the dream. The sound of your laugh, exactly as sweet as in real life. “Your hands were totally covered in baking soda, and the rug was ruined, but we were both laughing our heads off.” 

You’re smiling again, a small, knowing thing. “Had you said something to make us laugh?” 

“No,” he says honestly, “I think it was you.” 

James is aware that he’s barely functioning. It’s almost too much to talk and cut his pancakes at the same time while you’re looking at him like that, like he’s the loveliest thing you’ve ever seen. It makes it both a relief and a disappointment when you drop your gaze. 

“Do you think the stain might’ve been a premonition?” you ask. 

He raises his eyebrows. “How do you mean?” 

You laugh, and he’s instantly spellbound, caught somewhere between fantasy and reality. It takes him a second to realize you’re touching the edge of his plate, tipping it up. James looks down. It had been nearly falling off his lap, his pancakes cut up into tiny pieces and syrup pooled near the rim. 

You look up at him, seraphim with the morning light brightening your features and the hint of a smile playing on your lips. He thinks of how soft they’d felt on his the night before, the way they’d fallen open like welcoming him home. 

“You were almost spilling syrup onto the rug,” you say, that rare and beloved teasing lilt to your voice. “It would’ve taken more than baking soda to get that out.” 

“See?” he asks. “You know how to talk to me just fine.” 

You look surprised, then self-conscious, though not nearly as bad as when you’d come into the kitchen a few minutes ago. He covers your hand with his to keep you from going anywhere. Sets his plate on the coffee table. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Your eyes are wide. “Again?” 

“Yes, again,” James laughs. “And again after that, preferably. Only if it’s okay with you.” 

You shake your head, looking something akin to bewildered. “Yeah. Yeah, please.” 

He starts to lean toward you, and you meet him halfway. Already, it’s a bit different. There’s no tentative stillness, no slow yielding. Your lips are pliant and eager, parting and closing around his like you’re trying to get as much of him as you can. Your fingers wind in his hair without instruction, and James responds by placing his hand in that spot you’d seemed to like it so well last night, the material of your sweatshirt soft beneath his touch. You taste like his pancakes, the syrup sweet on your tongue. 

“Keep talking to me,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your lips worshipfully, “okay?” 

Your voice is breathless. “Why?” 

“Because I like you.” He tugs at you, wanting you closer. “And I think I’ve put in the work for you to warm up to me, if it’s all the same to you.” 

You make a tiny, amused sound. “Fine,” you say. You grow bolder, kissing your way up his cheek, the top of his eyebrow, until your nose is nestled in his hair and your lips are caressing his forehead. “Consider me warmed.” 

James grins, unable to help himself. He thinks that becoming your friend didn’t go quite as he planned, but he feels as though he won in the end.

[haute-honey]

astro obs.

🤸🏽‍♀️ Libras are always expected to give others something. Others always seem to look to them to give them their time, energy, love, affection, hell even their life. Of course they have issues with people pleasing because people naturally want to take take take from them. When they try to establish boundaries, all hell breaks loose leading them to never try to establish them again.

🤸🏽‍♀️ Speaking of Libra, I'm seeing a lot of posts about how *gay* we are lol Which made me wonder and think back on all the times I've had other women who I thought I was in true platonic friendships with fall head over heels in love with me and admit their true feelings to me. First time it happened I was literally in 4th grade.... How do we hetero Libras turn the gayness off or are y'all going off of what is stereotypically gay?

🤸🏽‍♀️ Libra rising are indecisive because when they make a hasty decision or impulsive decision, 9 times out of 10 it blows up in their face. Let them take their time dammit!

🤸🏽‍♀️ + libra rising kids not only experience bullying/jealousy/evil eye from their peers, they'll even experience it from full grown adults.

🤸🏽‍♀️ I saw someone mention that not liking 6th house synastry is because you enjoy toxicity in relationships...and I disagree. I think 6th house synastry depends on the type of relationship and the sign that it is in. For me, the 6th house works more for friendships and professional relationships rather than romantic relationships. As a straight woman, the sign my 6h is in is not ideal for a relationship for me due to other placements in my chart.

🤸🏽‍♀️ Furthermore, what synastry works for you best or what synastry you find to be most romantic is based on you and your chart. Don't let any of these "astrology girlies" pump your head up with bs just because it works for them.

🤸🏽‍♀️ Fellow scorpio placements (esp you scorpio suns) I'm gonna hold your hand when I say this, someone making you aware when you're exhibiting toxic/bad behavior does not equate to them being unloyal or betraying you. You need people around you that'll hold you accountable for the fucked up shit you do sometimes. No, it doesn't make them a snake or mean that they don't love you but my god, get a grip girl and be so motherfuckingly forreal.

🤸🏽‍♀️ Aquarius men aren't the challenge yall think they are... they're just detached. If that is not your style of love, move along.

🤸🏽‍♀️ Lilith energy is for women/feminines. If you are looking at Lilith through a synastry chart, the one who holds that power when it comes to how Lilith is placed is the feminine in the equation (if there is one). Men/masculines are subdued by Lilith. Not the other way around. For example, if a man's Lilith conjuncts a woman's Venus, he won't be able to use that power over her because he will not connect to it and will not know how to use it.

🤸🏽‍♀️ It is SO FUNNY when I read other observations on Libra placements. Its either we are mean girls/bullies or we are fake/people pleasers lmfao As someone with a lot of prominent Libra placements and influence, I have always had to deal with the fake allegations or the bitchy/intimidating mean girl allegations. Its like if we're not kissing ass we are the meanest bitches but if we are trying to make an effort to please everyone, we are people pleasing fake ass bitches 😆 I need y'all to pick a side and stay there when addressing Libras.

🤸🏽‍♀️ To say a venusian ruled person (Libra/Taurus suns, risings, venus) is a copy cat is laughable because they are the ones getting their swag stolen or having people wanting to be their friends to siphon their aura/vibe. Ex: Cleopatra a Taurus sun (Venus) had her "friend" copy her entire style/aesthetic.

🤸🏽‍♀️ I applaud the female/feminine Libras who have given up on pleasing others and have taken on the bitch allegations with pride because fuck these people. Y'all are weirdos who expect pretty women to fit into whatever box you feel like they should to appease your own self esteem. Seek help.

🤸🏽‍♀️ Degrees absolutely have effects on the natal chart and don't let anyone tell you otherwise! You might resonate more with whatever sign rules over the degree of your sign or rising rather than the actual sign that sit in those placements.

🤸🏽‍♀️ I saw someone say that a unevolved Sagittarius man is scared of sex........... while that could be true they are more often than not sexual deviants when unevolved.

🤸🏽‍♀️ Speaking of sagittarius, Jupiter ruled people quite literally NEED Jupiter to help them out and provide them with more luck than the rest of us because these people are the ultimate self sabotagers. They love trouble, they enjoy creating chaos often then not. And Jupiter is always there to put out the fires they start.

🤸🏽‍♀️ You can't really tell anyone what synastry is best for romantic relationships vs which ones you deem worse because at the end of the day it is all about preferences. If you like a familial feel to your relationships, you'll probably like 4th house synastry. However, if you're like me and come from a veryyyy dysfunctional family, 4h synastry will repulse you. So figure out your own vibe and what you like in a relationship and go from there.

🤸🏽‍♀️ Women with prominent sagittarius placements often are seen by outsiders as the "cool" or "fun" moms when really they can be verrrrrry neglectful towards their children. Ask me how I know lol

🤸🏽‍♀️ Saw someone say that Scorpio sun and moon placements can be backhandedly bully people and this is when I have to bring up the issues of generalization when y'all are making these "observation" posts. Any placement has the potential to be a bully. Literally any of them. However, why Scorpio sun and/or moon might stand out is because they can be LETHAL with their words (ex. Tia Kemp - Scorpio sun). Like they really know how to cut somebody up with their words and they are QUICK with it. Kind of like a scorpion with their tail. So be mindful and don't take it there with them if you can't keep up because you'll need therapy after they get done with you.

🤸🏽‍♀️ Scorpio moon women are either resenting other women or being resented by other women. It can go either way.

🤸🏽‍♀️ Gemini women are the ladies that look a mess 99% of the time and I like that about them.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Lost in Translation: Part One

Summary: Six years after Spencer Reid left you all alone in your dorm room, you’ve moved on and built a new life in Virginia, becoming close friends with Derek Morgan. When Spencer unexpectedly reappears as part of Derek’s team, old feelings resurface.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, friendly fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption, past rejection, reflecting on past hurt, seeing the person who hurt you, Spencer still being a dumb man, talks of past hook ups

Word count: 9.2k

a/n: hiiii this is kind of a filler? it's just a lot of angst and build up for the reconciliation 👀

main masterlist prologue part two part three part four

Six years later, Reid sat on the back of an ambulance, the adrenaline of the situation slowly ebbing away as medics checked him over. His hair was mussed, and his face bore bruises from the day's takedown, but his eyes were clear, focused, if a little distant. Hotch approached, relief etched across his face, but concern still lingering in his eyes as he looked down at Reid.

“I hope I didn’t hurt you too badly,” Hotch said, his tone light, though laced with genuine worry.

Reid glanced up, then looked off into the distance, a wistful smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Hotch,” he said, pausing for just a moment before meeting his gaze, “I was a 12-year-old child prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school.” He let the statement hang in the air for effect before adding, “You kick like a 9-year-old girl.”

Hotch’s serious expression cracked into a grin, the tension of the day releasing in that shared moment of humor. He gave Reid an appreciative nod, proud that even now, even after everything, he could find a way to see the light in the darkness. They’d taken a risk to apprehend the unsub—a risk that had paid off. The case was closed, and most importantly, Spencer was okay.

Once the team returned to Quantico, Penelope Garcia came barreling toward them like a whirlwind, eyes wide with concern as she made a beeline for Spencer. 

“Oh my God, are you okay?” she asked, fussing over him, brushing nonexistent dust off his jacket. “I heard what happened, and I nearly had a heart attack, and you know how hard I work to keep this heart in tip-top shape.”

Derek let out a chuckle, looping an arm around Spencer's shoulders and giving him a good-natured shake. “Don't worry, Baby Girl,” he said. “Pretty Boy here is tougher than he looks.”

Elle stood nearby, a smirk tugging at her lips. “So what do you say, Reid? Can we take you out for a drink to celebrate? Show you a little team bonding now that we’re back in one piece?”

The offer made Spencer stiffen, a flicker of unease passing through his eyes. He hadn’t had his first drink yet—never quite found the right moment. His last encounter with alcohol flashed through his mind, from when he was still working on his PhD. He'd been at a party, talking to someone he wanted to take home... until they got too drunk and threw up on him, which put him off the idea of drinking ever since.

“Uhh,” Spencer started, rubbing the back of his neck as he awkwardly shrugged Derek’s arm off. “I’m not sure—”

“Nuh-uh,” Derek cut him off with a playful but firm shake of his head. “None of that, kid. You’re part of this team, and it’s time we show you what that means. Drinks on us. One drink won’t hurt, right?” 

Spencer looked between them—Derek’s grin, Elle’s teasing smile, and Penelope’s excited nodding—and felt the reluctant pull of acceptance. They weren’t going to take no for an answer, and for a moment, he let himself relax. Maybe a night out with the team wouldn't be so bad.

The bar was loud and buzzing with life. The team was clustered around a table, drinks in hand, and the mood was light, almost celebratory. Laughter echoed over clinking glasses as Derek teased Spencer about finally being out for drinks, Elle and JJ swapped jokes, and Hotch even cracked a rare smile as Penelope regaled everyone with her overly-dramatic reenactment of their last case. Spencer found himself laughing along, more relaxed than he thought he’d be, though he stayed firmly planted with his untouched glass of club soda.

Amid the fun, Derek's phone buzzed loudly, and he stood to answer it, holding up a hand to excuse himself. “Hold that thought, guys,” he said, flashing his signature grin as he walked a little away from the table, pressing the phone to his ear. The team continued their conversation, only pausing when Derek returned, looking apologetic.

“Sorry, guys,” he said, tucking his phone into his back pocket. “My lady is in distress; I gotta go rescue her from a bad date.”

That earned a round of good-natured chuckles from the team. Elle raised an eyebrow, asking, “Need us to come with, knight in shining armor?”

But Spencer, the one to always take things literally, frowned in confusion. “Your girlfriend is on a date with someone else?” he asked, tilting his head like he was trying to figure out a complex puzzle.

That only made everyone laugh harder, JJ practically doubling over and Hotch shaking his head with amusement. Derek just clapped Spencer on the back, his chuckle deep and hearty. 

Penelope, ever the playful dramatist, wiped away an imaginary tear. “As much as it pains me that my Chocolate Thunder has another woman in his life,” she sighed, draping an arm dramatically over her forehead, “that’s his best friend, not his girlfriend. He’s just playing superhero tonight.”

“Yeah, she’s just my little lady,” Derek explained, still smiling as he grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. “And trust me, she needs saving from some pretty questionable dates.”

Spencer nodded slowly, his eyes darting around as if processing this new piece of social information, a small “ohhh” escaping his lips as he finally understood. The rest of the team just laughed and clinked their glasses together, waving Derek off as he headed out to play the role of rescuer once again.

—

You smiled awkwardly, forcing a laugh as you tapped your foot under the table, hoping the nervous rhythm would hide your growing discomfort. Across from you, your date sat with an overly self-satisfied grin, clearly pleased with themselves for whatever joke they’d just told. 

“Funny, right?” they said, leaning back confidently, their voice loud enough to make a few heads turn.

“Mhm,” you nodded, plastering on your best smile, the kind you’d practiced for uncomfortable situations just like this. “So funny.” 

The date was dragging on, each minute feeling like an hour, and you kept glancing at the exit, hoping for some way to end it without seeming rude. You were running out of excuses when finally, you heard a familiar, steady voice that filled you with instant relief.

“Y/N! Baby!” Derek’s voice boomed from behind you, his face contorted into a fake, but convincingly angry, expression as he made his way over to your table. “It’s time to go,” he said through gritted teeth, playing the role perfectly.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, exaggerating your surprise as you quickly gathered your things, casting a regretful glance at your bewildered date. “Sorry, I have to—um, gotta go, you know how it is.”

“Now,” Derek growled, his eyes flashing dangerously as he reached for your arm with a protective grip. You couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips as he pulled you away, your heart racing with gratitude at how he always showed up just in time to save you from situations exactly like this.

As soon as the two of you stepped outside, you burst into laughter, the tension from the horrible date evaporating with each breathless chuckle. “What was that?” you cried out in amusement, doubling over as you tried to catch your breath.

Derek grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “I thought it would be funny to make it look like you were cheating on me,” he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

You laughed again, shaking your head as you nudged him playfully. “Wow, thanks, Derek. That’s just great! I’m sure they think I’m a horrible person now.”

“Better they think that than you being stuck in there any longer,” he teased, shrugging playfully. “Besides, who wouldn’t want to believe they were dating me?” He gave a mock-innocent smile, and you couldn't help but laugh harder, grateful that your night had turned from painfully awkward to genuinely fun—all thanks to your "knight" in his shining sense of humor.

—

After graduation, you packed up and moved to Virginia, seeking a fresh start and the next chapter of your life. It didn’t take long for you to meet Derek Morgan—charismatic, warm, and the kind of person who instantly made you feel like you’d known each other forever. Quickly, you were inseparable, your friendship deepening with every shared joke, every late-night conversation.

When you first met Derek, it wasn’t at a bar, but in the paint aisle of a hardware store. He was standing there, staring at the rows of paint swatches like they might leap off the shelf and attack him, clearly out of his element. You, meanwhile, were lost in your shopping list, trying to mentally organize what you needed. It wasn’t until you absentmindedly turned and bumped into him, sending a few swatches fluttering to the floor, that either of you spoke.

“Oh, sorry!” you said, laughing awkwardly as you bent to pick up the fallen cards. “I didn’t see you there.”

“No problem,” Derek replied with a chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Though, I think I need all the help I can get. You know anything about paint? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure these swatches are written in a different language.”

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at the paint chips in his hand. Normally, you’d have kept to yourself, but something about his friendly demeanor made it easy to offer help. “Well,” you said, pointing at the colors, “if you’re looking for something neutral but warm, I’d go with this one. It’s versatile, and won’t make the room feel too dark.”

Derek grinned, visibly relieved. “I like the way you think. You might’ve just saved me from turning my place into a disaster.”

That lighthearted, slightly awkward interaction became the start of an unexpected friendship. You didn’t realize it then, but Derek saw more than just someone who could offer advice on paint. He noticed the cautious way you carried yourself, the hesitation in your voice, and the guarded way you held back, even in a simple conversation. It was subtle, but Derek could sense it—that you were someone who had been hurt, someone who was used to keeping people at arm’s length.

It was in that moment, after you helped him, that Derek decided he wasn’t going to let you disappear into the background. He saw someone who needed a friend, even if you didn’t know it yet, and he was determined to be that person for you.

He pushed his way into your world, piece by piece, until you found yourself leaning on him, confiding in him, and letting him be the kind of friend you never thought you'd find again. Derek was determined to be there for you, and in a way you never saw coming, he had become the person who would stand by you, even when you were reluctant to let him in.

Over time, you confided in Derek about your college heartbreak, sharing all the hurt, the confusion, and the sense of betrayal that still lingered. You never mentioned names, though—the pain was still too raw, and you couldn’t bring yourself to talk about it in more detail than necessary. Derek listened, always understanding, never pressing for more than you were ready to share. He knew when to joke to make you laugh and when to sit in silence to let you breathe.

At first, the attraction between you and Derek was undeniable. His charming smile, his confidence—it was easy to get lost in that. One night, curiosity and chemistry got the better of you both, and you found yourselves in a brief, passionate rendezvous. But once the moment passed, you both realized that while there was undeniable physical chemistry, the emotional spark that would take you beyond a fling wasn’t there.

So, you stayed friends—really good friends. And it was a decision that felt right. Derek became your closest companion, someone you trusted deeply, someone who knew all of you without needing to be anything more than your best friend. And from then on, your bond was stronger than any attraction that had once been between you.

Derek had always been eager to introduce you to his team, his “family,” as he called them. But every time he brought it up, you found yourself hesitant, a lingering anxiety wrapping tightly around your chest. The thought of meeting a group of strangers made your pulse quicken, and after what happened with Spencer, you found it hard to let people in—afraid that they’d get close only to walk out when you finally let your guard down.

But Derek was persistent. He’d reassure you that they’d love you, that they were good people, that they’d make you feel right at home. And after months of coaxing, he finally wore you down. So on the night he arranged for everyone to meet at a bar, you arrived early, nerves buzzing through you as you kept fidgeting with your glass of water, the ice clinking noisily. Derek sat beside you, his hand casually draped over the back of your chair, giving you little reassuring nudges and playful teasing to calm you down. 

It wasn’t long before they arrived—Elle, JJ, Hotch, and Penelope. They came in together, the energy between them electric and warm, like a group who had seen each other through everything and then some. You felt the weight of their eyes on you as Derek quickly waved them over, and before you knew it, introductions were happening all at once. 

Elle, with her steady, confident smile. JJ, kind and instantly friendly, making you feel a little more at ease. Hotch was reserved but polite, offering you a nod that felt more comforting than intimidating. And Penelope—bright, enthusiastic, and full of life—immediately pulled you into a hug that you didn’t quite expect but somehow needed.

“Welcome to the team... kinda!” Penelope laughed, pulling back to look you up and down, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

The team was warm, and their humor put you at ease more than you expected. “Derek told me you were gorgeous, but wow!” Penelope said, grinning as she gestured to your outfit. “He did not do you justice! I should've known he’d undersell a masterpiece.”

You blushed, ducking your head, and Derek rolled his eyes playfully. “Oh, come on, Garcia, now you’re just making her nervous,” he said, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying the playful teasing.

“Someone has to make up for your terrible intro,” Elle joked, raising her drink in your direction. “He probably didn’t even tell you our names before dragging you here, did he?”

“Well, actually—” you started to defend him, but JJ leaned in with a grin.

“Oh, he probably did,” she said, flashing a knowing smile. “But did he tell you the good stuff? Because Hotch over here is not just any team leader—he’s secretly a rock star at karaoke.”

Hotch looked up from his drink, arching an eyebrow with mock disapproval. “Secretly, JJ?” he said dryly. “If I remember correctly, you were the one who signed us all up for ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ last time.”

The conversation flowed smoothly, light and airy, with everyone sharing bits of their day and funny anecdotes about past cases. You were finally feeling like you could relax, laughing along with the team and even chiming in here and there. Penelope asked about your work, Hotch teased Derek about his dedication to “fitness,” and JJ leaned in with questions about your interests, trying to make you feel comfortable.

Then Elle, who had been quietly observing, tilted her head with a curious smile. “So, Y/N,” she said, her eyes twinkling with humor, “we heard Derek had to save you from a bad date last week.”

A groan escaped you before you could help it, and Derek let out a bark of laughter beside you. “Oh, man, don’t make her relive that nightmare,” he said, shaking his head.

“No, no, it’s okay,” you said, smiling despite yourself as all eyes turned to you, eager for details. “I mean... yeah, I was on a pretty terrible date. The kind where you just... start praying for a natural disaster to get you out of there.”

Penelope gasped, holding a hand to her heart. “Spill! What happened?”

“Okay, okay,” you said, waving your hands, “So I’m sitting there, right? And this person—well, let’s just say they were a little too confident. They started cracking all these jokes that were... I mean, I think they thought they were funny, but they were more like... really weird stand-up comedy? And then, out of nowhere, they start quizzing me on, like, the most random trivia ever.”

JJ snorted into her drink. “Like what?”

“Like, ‘What’s the capital of Paraguay?’” you said, imitating your date’s deep, overly-serious tone. “And when I didn’t know, he looked at me like I just insulted his whole family.”

The whole table burst into laughter, and Derek shook his head, leaning back with a smirk. “See, I told you—you dodged a bullet there, lady.”

“And that’s where Derek came in,” you continued, grinning. “He stormed in, looking like an angry boyfriend ready to throw down, and said ‘Baby, we gotta go—now.’ Scared the poor chap half to death.”

“That’s my Derek,” Elle said, raising her glass in a toast.

You shrugged with a playful smile. “Gotta admit, it was a pretty solid rescue.”

Penelope’s eyes shone as she giggled, “I wish I knew I could call on Derek every time I get stuck on a boring date. You’re lucky you used it!”

“Yeah,” you said, your smile turning genuine as you looked over at Derek, who just winked at you. “I am lucky.”

You felt the anxiety still fluttering inside but found yourself starting to relax in the presence of their welcoming smiles. Maybe Derek was right—maybe this could be the start of something good.

But that thought was ruined the moment Spencer walked into the bar, a wave of panic hit you like a tidal wave, your pulse spiking as you leaned into Derek, whispering frantically, “That’s the guy!”

“What guy?” Derek asked, his brow furrowing in concern as he leaned closer.

“The guy from college! The one who led me on? Smashed and dashed? Broke my heart?”

Derek’s eyes went wide as the realization hit him, and he started to push up his sleeves, his expression shifting from confusion to determination. “Oh shit. Which one? I need to go have a little chat with this asshole.”

“That one!” you pointed discreetly, your voice tight with urgency. “String bean, 10 o’clock.”

Derek’s gaze followed your finger, his mouth opening in disbelief. “Spencer?”

“Wait,” you froze, eyes darting between Derek and Spencer. “How do you know Spencer?”

Derek blinked rapidly, running a hand over his face. “No way. No fucking way.”

“What, Derek, what?” you asked, anxiety gnawing at your insides.

“Derek, what’s going on?” Elle asked, noticing the tension suddenly spiking at the table.

But before either of you could explain, Spencer was already walking toward your group. And without hesitation, Derek shouted across the room, loud enough for the whole bar to hear, “Spencer Reid, you whore!”

The bar fell into stunned silence, every conversation dropping as heads turned toward Derek and then to Spencer, who froze mid-step. The confused, panicked look on Spencer’s face was mirrored by the team around you, all of them staring at Derek as if waiting for some kind of explanation. 

But none of that mattered, because the second Derek’s words hung in the air, you felt like you were going to combust. Your chest tightened, your ears burned, and you needed to escape—now. 

You couldn’t bear the sight of Spencer standing there, eyes wide and confused, especially not when he looked so good—his curls a bit longer, his frame more filled out but still carrying that awkwardly endearing energy you remembered all too well. It only made the hurt twist deeper in your chest, the flood of memories rushing back as if no time had passed at all.

Before anyone could say a word, you bolted out of your seat, practically running toward the exit, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as you pushed through the door, away from the memories, the hurt, and the undeniable pull that Spencer still seemed to have on you.

After Derek’s loud declaration, the team was left bumbling in confusion, their chatter overlapping as they tried to make sense of what had just happened.

“Wait, what did you just say?” JJ asked, her eyes darting between Derek and Spencer, trying to catch up. 

“Did you just call Reid a whore?” Elle added, her voice rising with disbelief.

Hotch's expression hardened with concern and confusion, his eyes narrowing at Derek. “Care to explain what’s going on here?”

Meanwhile, Penelope’s gaze darted frantically between you, Derek, and the stunned Spencer, her mouth hanging open as if trying to piece together a puzzle with half the pieces missing. “Okay, someone fill me in, because this is getting juicy—”

Through it all, Derek’s eyes were locked on Spencer like a hawk eyeing its prey, shoulders squared, jaw tight, and very ready to pounce. Spencer was still standing frozen in place, his expression an awkward mix of shock, confusion, and now—seeing Derek’s glare—genuine fear. He didn’t know whether to step forward, run, or explain himself. It was as if the whole bar had gone silent, the weight of everyone's eyes pressing down on him like a spotlight he couldn’t escape.

“Pretty boy,” Derek said, his voice low and almost menacing as he kept his eyes locked on Spencer. The tension between them was palpable, the friendly atmosphere of moments ago evaporating into something heavy and dangerous. “Over here. Now.”

Spencer swallowed hard, glancing around the bar as if trying to find an escape route, but there was none—just the team’s bewildered faces and Derek’s unwavering stare. Slowly, hesitantly, he started walking toward the table, his eyes darting nervously between the team and Derek, clearly aware that whatever was going on was about to explode. 

The whole team was silent, eyes wide as they watched the confrontation unfold, utterly confused but drawn in, unable to look away.

“What’s going on, Derek?” Spencer’s voice came out weak, barely holding it together as he stood awkwardly in front of the table, hands fidgeting at his sides. He glanced nervously at Derek’s clenched jaw, clearly realizing this wasn’t just some joke he wasn’t in on.

Derek huffed, his eyes narrowing further as he stood up to step closer to Spencer, his presence towering over him. “Y/N Y/L,” he said, the name coming out like a loaded accusation. “Ring a bell?”

The color drained from Spencer’s face, his expression shifting from confusion to sheer panic. Of course, he knew that name. He knew it well—he’d never forgotten. You never gave him your full name, but that hadn’t stopped him from wanting to know everything about you after that night. And so, in a moment of curiosity, guilt, and longing, he’d used his professor access to look you up in the university directory, hoping to learn more, hoping to... maybe reach out. But he'd never followed through, instead burying that memory deep, where he thought it would stay forever.

Now, that past had clawed its way to the surface. Spencer gulped, eyes wide, his voice coming out as a barely audible mumble. “Um... why?”

The whole team’s heads bobbed back and forth between the two men like they were watching a tennis match, confusion written all over their faces. JJ’s brow furrowed in disbelief, Elle leaned forward as if ready to pounce on whatever truth was about to spill out, and Penelope’s eyes sparkled with intrigue, biting back a question to let the moment unfold.

“Because she was just sitting here,” Derek said, his voice darkening with barely contained anger, “and when you walked in, she ran out.”

The weight of his words dropped like a bomb, and the team’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. It took a moment for the pieces to fall into place, but when they did, the tension in the air became almost suffocating.

“Wait...” Elle gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as the realization hit her. “Is that what Y/N was whispering about?”

JJ's eyes darted to Spencer, shock and disappointment painted across her face. “Oh my god, Spencer!” she exclaimed, her voice rising above the din of the bar. “What did you do?”

Spencer's head hung low, his face pale as all eyes landed on him, his teammates' judgment clear in their expressions. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out—he was caught between the truth, the shame, and the past he’d tried so hard to forget.

The tall man let out a long breath and sat down heavily at the table, facing the expectant and confused gazes of his team. He hesitated, struggling to find the right words, the truth weighed down by layers of regret and fear. But there was no hiding from this now, and he knew he had to explain.

“I... I didn’t really talk about this before, but during my PhD days, I had a bit of a... busy intimate life,” he started, his voice low and wavering. He avoided eye contact, staring at the table like he could find his words hidden in the wood grain. “I was young, and it was my first time experiencing freedom like that. There were a lot of... flings, one-time things. A lot of people came and went.”

The team remained silent, eyes fixed on him, soaking in every word. Hotch sat back with his arms crossed, his face unreadable, while JJ and Penelope exchanged a shocked glance. Elle leaned in, not wanting to miss a single detail.

“And then I met Y/N,” Spencer continued, a small, wistful smile ghosting over his lips at the memory. “We started out just... bumping into each other, especially in the library. Thursdays became our thing, and before I knew it, we were friends—real friends. And I... I fell for her, hard.”

Derek’s jaw tightened as Spencer spoke, clearly trying to hold his tongue. But he stayed silent, trying to remain calm and listen, though his knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the table.

“One night, before the summer break, we hung out and... well, things got intimate,” Spencer confessed, his voice trailing off as if he could still remember every detail of that night. “But then, afterward, I... panicked. I’d been left before by people who only wanted one thing, and I was so sure Y/N would do the same. So I left before she could leave me. I thought I was protecting myself.”

The silence that followed was heavy, the team processing everything they’d just heard. Penelope’s mouth hung open in disbelief, and JJ’s face was a mix of understanding and disappointment. Elle just stared, eyes wide as she tried to piece together this new side of Spencer she had never seen before.

Derek leaned back, trying to take deep breaths to stay objective, but it was clear he was struggling to reconcile this side of Spencer with the man he knew—and with your story, the pain you'd carried for so long.

Finally, the silence broke when Elle, still processing everything, blurted out, “I thought you were a virgin.”

The unexpected comment drew a stifled chuckle from Hotch, who quickly tried to cover it with a cough, shaking his head as he glanced away to regain his composure. Spencer shot a look of offense around the table, his cheeks turning red from embarrassment.

“That’s not the point,” Derek said sharply, steering the conversation back to its heart. His tone softened but stayed firm. “You broke her heart, kid.”

Spencer’s expression crumbled with shame, his eyes dropping to his hands fidgeting in his lap. “I... I didn’t know that,” he said quietly, sounding more vulnerable than any of them had ever heard him. “She was... she was here? Tonight?”

Penelope nodded solemnly, her usually bright demeanor clouded with concern. “Yeah, she was sitting right with us,” she said gently. “She ran out. Spencer, she ran right past you.” 

Spencer’s face fell, the weight of what he’d done settling heavily on his shoulders as he replayed the moment in his mind—the stranger rushing past, too fast for him to recognize, too wrapped in his own world to realize the depth of pain he had caused.

—

Flashback

After you fell asleep with your head resting on Spencer’s chest, he stayed awake, propped up on one arm, his other hand idly tracing shapes on your back. The rise and fall of your gentle breaths sent soft puffs of warmth against his skin, and the sound of your slow, even breathing filled the quiet room. Spencer watched you with a tender smile on his face, his heart swelling with every peaceful sigh you let out.

For that moment, everything was perfect—the warmth of your body against his, the soft glow of the moonlight through the window, and the quiet intimacy of sharing a bed after everything that had happened between you. He couldn't help but let his thoughts wander, to imagine waking up like this every morning, to imagine the rest of his life with you beside him, sharing sleepy smiles and whispered secrets in the quiet of dawn.

And that's when the panic hit.

The thought of getting so close to you, of letting his heart fall so fully and completely for you, terrified him. He had spent so long protecting himself, closing off his emotions to keep from being hurt, that the idea of letting you in was too overwhelming. He was sure that, like everyone else, you’d leave, and he didn't think he could handle the pain if it came from you. He felt the fear grip him tight, his pulse quickening as he realized what it meant—that he had to go, now, before he fell any deeper.

As much as it broke his heart, Spencer carefully slipped out from under you, moving inch by inch to keep from waking you. But when he finally pulled away, your face scrunched up in your sleep, and your arm reached out instinctively, searching for the place he had just been. The sight nearly broke him, and for a moment, he almost crawled back into bed, almost let himself stay.

But the fear was stronger. He left, quietly slipping out into the dark, knowing he would never see you again, knowing that the one chance at something real was lost the second he closed that door behind him.

—

As soon as you got home, you collapsed onto your bed, the soft sheets barely registering beneath you as you clung to a pillow, burying your face in it. The tears came fast, heavy sobs shaking your body as the weight of everything you’d been holding in finally poured out. Memories of Spencer rushed back in a flood—the way he’d held you, the tender words he’d whispered in the quiet of the night, and the intimacy you had shared.

You knew, even before it happened, that sleeping with him was a mistake. You’d told yourself as much a thousand times. But the moment he left you, without so much as a word afterward, it felt like that final blow to your heart—confirming everything you feared. The pain of being abandoned, of realizing that maybe you had meant nothing to him after all, tore at you with a fierceness that left you breathless. You hugged the pillow tighter, the softness no comfort to the ache inside.

You cried yourself to sleep that night, every emotion too overwhelming to bear. The embarrassment of bolting from the bar in front of Spencer’s team, the fear of realizing he was now part of your immediate circle, and the deep grief over what could have been. It was too much. The tears had left your eyes swollen and your throat raw, your body exhausted from the turmoil swirling inside you.

When you woke the next morning, groggy and disoriented, the sound of your phone buzzing pulled you from the comfort of sleep. Fumbling for it, you squinted at the screen before bringing it to your ear, your voice thick with sleep. “Hello?” you managed, slurred through the haze of morning grogginess.

“Hey, baby,” Derek’s familiar, warm voice sighed through the line. “I’m at your door with tea. Let me in?”

A disgruntled huff escaped you, not exactly ready to face the day, but you still dragged yourself out of bed. You padded over to the door and opened it, finding Derek standing there with two cups of tea and a look of understanding. Without saying a word, you took the cup he offered, wrapping your hands around the warmth and letting it soothe the ache in your chest as you sipped.

Wordlessly, the two of you made your way to your tiny balcony, the fresh morning air brushing softly against your skin. You both settled into the cozy, cushioned nook—Derek’s arm draped over your shoulder as you leaned into his warmth. The silence stretched between you, comfortable and unpressured. Derek didn’t push you to speak, letting you take your time, knowing you needed the quiet after everything.

For a long while, the soft hum of the city below and the gentle sway of plants on your balcony were the only sounds filling the space. It wasn’t until you’d both nearly finished your tea that Derek finally spoke.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, his voice soft but filled with care, his gaze watching you carefully, ready to listen.

You sighed heavily, your fingers tightening around the warm ceramic of your mug. “I never thought I’d see him again,” you admitted, shaking your head as you tried to process the shock of it all. “What are the odds?”

Derek, ever the one to lighten the mood, snorted softly. “I bet Spencer would know the answer to that,” he quipped, a small grin tugging at his lips.

You turned to glare at him, shooting him a look that clearly said not funny. Derek raised his hands in surrender, his grin faltering. “Sorry. Too soon?”

You nodded, sighing as you leaned back into the cushions. “It’s always too soon with... him,” you said, your voice weighed down by all the unspoken emotions you hadn’t yet unpacked.

Derek shifted beside you, the teasing gone from his expression now as he grew serious again. “He told us what happened, you know?” he said quietly, as if trying not to make it worse but knowing you had to hear it.

Your chest tightened at the thought, embarrassment rising again. “Great,” you muttered, your voice tinged with bitterness. “That’s even more humiliating. The entire team knows now?”

“Yeah,” Derek admitted softly, nodding as he looked at you with sympathy. “But they also know it was him who messed up, not you.”

You stared down into your cup, feeling the sting of tears welling up again, threatening to spill over. The warmth of Derek beside you was a comfort, but it wasn’t enough to lift the heavy burden pressing on your chest. His words, meant to soothe, only left you feeling more confused, more vulnerable.

“What do you mean?” you asked softly, barely above a whisper, your voice shaky with emotion. You didn’t dare look up, afraid that making eye contact would break the fragile barrier keeping the tears at bay.

Derek took a deep breath, shifting slightly as if choosing his words carefully. “At the bar, after you ran out... Spencer sat down with the team, and we... we didn’t know what was going on at first. So we asked.”

You finally looked up at him, your brows furrowing slightly, a mix of anticipation and dread building in your stomach.

“He told us about his time during his PhD,” Derek continued gently, his voice calm, as if he was trying to soften the blow. “Said he... he slept around a lot back then, had a lot of one-night things, you know? And then he met you. Told us how you two became friends, how it wasn’t like the other times.”

Your heart clenched at his words. Hearing it from Derek made it real in a way that felt almost unbearable. You squeezed your mug tighter, the warmth doing nothing to soothe the ache in your chest.

“He said after you two slept together,” Derek went on, “he panicked. Thought you’d leave him, like everyone else had. So he left first.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to keep your tears from spilling, but it was no use. You could feel the sharp sting in your throat, the familiar ache of heartache you thought you’d buried long ago. “He left because he thought I’d leave?” you asked, your voice thick with disbelief and hurt.

Derek nodded, his eyes full of sympathy. “Yeah... He thought he was protecting himself. But, obviously, he regrets it now.”

You didn’t know how to respond. The conflicting emotions—anger, sadness, confusion—swirled inside you, leaving you breathless. Spencer had left because he was afraid of losing you, and in doing so, he broke you. And now, all these years later, you were supposed to find comfort in knowing he regretted it?

“So that’s why he never... reached out?” you whispered, more to yourself than to Derek.

“Yeah,” Derek said softly. “He was scared. Scared that you’d see him like all the others did—someone to use and then leave.”

“Basically, he’s a coward and a moron?” you asked, your voice flat but sharp with anger, needing to hear it said out loud to fully grasp the ridiculousness of it all.

Derek chuckled softly, a wry smile pulling at his lips. “Yup. That sums it up,” he said, rubbing your arm in slow, soothing circles. His voice remained calm, but he could sense the storm brewing inside you. “Do you think you’ll want to see him again?”

“Fuck no,” you snapped without hesitation, the words coming out harsher than you expected, but you didn’t care. “He ruined any chance he had with me. He broke my heart, and all because he was scared?” The bitterness in your voice rose as the anger bubbled to the surface, mixing with the lingering pain. “I hate him.”

Derek’s smile faded into something softer, more sympathetic as he listened to you vent. He could feel the intensity of your emotions, the raw hurt that still lingered beneath the surface. But he didn’t push you further, just stayed close, offering his quiet support.

“I get it,” he said softly. “You’re allowed to be mad, to feel all of it.”

You nodded, though the tears were already blurring your vision again. The anger felt good, cathartic in a way, but it didn’t take away the hurt. Spencer had shattered something inside you, and no explanation, no regret from him could change that.

Derek stayed with you for the rest of the day, determined to lift your spirits and bring some lightness back into the heavy atmosphere that had settled over you. After the emotional morning, he suggested a change of pace—a "no more thinking about him" kind of day.

The two of you moved back inside, and after raiding your fridge, you ended up sprawled out on the couch with a pile of snacks between you. Derek flipped through channels until he landed on an old action movie, something so absurd and over-the-top it was impossible not to laugh at the cheesy explosions and dramatic one-liners.

As the movie played in the background, you both sat there, munching on chips and teasing each other. “If I ever get into a high-speed chase, I’ll make sure to drive into an alley with just enough space for me to barely escape, but the bad guys can’t,” Derek quipped, waving a chip in the air like it was his master plan.

“Obviously,” you laughed, nudging him with your shoulder. “Because clearly, that’s what makes you invincible.”

“Oh, I’m invincible, baby,” Derek grinned, flexing his arm dramatically. “I don’t need an alley to escape the bad guys.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing at his theatrics. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll see how ‘invincible’ you are next time you try to carry all the grocery bags at once and drop the eggs.”

Derek clutched his chest in mock horror. “Low blow, Y/N. You know I was saving us from multiple trips.”

“Sure, sure,” you teased, tossing a chip at him. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mr. Invincible.”

He caught the chip mid-air and popped it into his mouth, smirking as he chewed. “Not everyone can be as perfect as you, baby.”

The day passed in a blur of easy conversation, laughter, and moments of comfortable silence. Derek didn’t push you to talk about anything heavy, and the weight that had sat on your chest all morning began to lift, replaced with the warmth of knowing you had a friend who could make you forget the world for a little while.

By the end of the day, you were curled up under a blanket, feeling lighter than you had in days.

—

“Derek!” Spencer called out, jogging to catch up just as Derek was waiting for the elevator. His breath was a little ragged, his urgency clear. He needed to talk, needed to know.

Derek turned, his eyes scanning Spencer’s face, reading the familiar mix of emotions. He had softened toward Spencer since the initial blow-up, knowing that his friend was hurting too. Spencer had made a mess of things, but he was still one of Derek’s closest friends, and Derek couldn’t ignore his struggle.

“Sup, Reid?” Derek greeted casually, though there was a layer of understanding beneath the light tone.

“Hi, um,” Spencer panted, catching his breath from the jog. “Did you see Y/N again this weekend?”

Derek nodded, his expression softening even further. “Yeah, I did.”

Spencer’s eyes flickered with hope and uncertainty, hesitating before speaking again. He clearly wanted to ask more, but the words seemed caught in his throat. Derek saw the struggle and decided to give him an out.

"Come on, man. Let’s grab a drink," Derek offered, nodding toward the door as the elevator opened. He knew this conversation was going to be heavier than a quick exchange by the elevators.

A little while later, the two of them were sitting side by side at the bar. Their beers sat untouched, the weight of their conversation lingering between them. Spencer had been unusually quiet all night, his usual rambling replaced by a tension that had been hanging over him since he saw you again.

“So,” Spencer began cautiously, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass as if the movement could steady his thoughts. “Uh... how’s Y/N been?”

Derek exhaled, setting his beer down with a quiet thud. He hated being caught in the middle of this, but Spencer’s eyes were so full of uncertainty, so full of regret, that Derek couldn’t ignore the question. He had to be honest. “She’s... doing alright,” Derek said carefully, trying not to reveal too much. “Keeping busy. Working on some new projects.”

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, and he nodded slowly. “That’s good,” he muttered, though the slight tremble in his voice betrayed just how much hearing about you affected him. 

“What, uh, what does she do for work?” Spencer asked, his fingers nervously twisting the beer bottle in his hand, his gaze avoiding Derek's for a moment.

Derek sighed, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading but humoring Spencer for now. “She’s an interior designer.”

“Oh, cool,” Spencer muttered, nodding absently, still twirling his beer. There was a beat of silence before he asked, “How did you two meet?”

Derek smiled at the memory, a small chuckle escaping him. “We ran into each other, literally, at a hardware store. I was standing there, staring at paint, and she bumped into me. She ended up helping me pick out a paint color for my walls, and, well, the rest is history.”

“That’s nice,” Spencer said, his voice quieter now, as if he was picturing the scene in his mind. “She, uh, she likes it? The job, I mean?”

“She loves it,” Derek replied with a soft smile, thinking about how passionate you were whenever you talked about your latest project. It was clear how much joy your work brought you, and Derek admired that.

The conversation hovered for a moment, Spencer swirling the beer in his hand, staring into the golden liquid as if it might hold the answers he was looking for. He didn’t dare ask the question that was lingering on the tip of his tongue—Does she ever talk about me?—but Derek could feel it hanging in the air between them, thick with unspoken regret.

Derek leaned back, exhaling softly. He knew Spencer was desperate for some sign, some hope, but he also knew you hadn’t mentioned Spencer much since the first time you told Derek about him, and this most recent run-in. 

But Derek couldn’t lie, and he wasn’t about to give Spencer any false hope. “She doesn’t want to see you, Spencer,” Derek said gently, watching the way Spencer’s expression crumbled, the tiny shred of hope slipping through his fingers. “She’s... still hurt.”

Spencer swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the table. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper, full of regret and guilt. “I know.”

—

The Humane Society was always a favorite outing for you two, mostly because Derek loved the idea of being surrounded by dogs, and you were more than happy to tag along to play with the animals.

You knelt down by one of the cages, your fingers scratching behind the ears of a little brown puppy with floppy ears and bright eyes. “You are too cute,” you cooed, watching as the puppy wagged its tail excitedly. “How is it that I've managed to leave here every time without adopting?”

Derek was busy with a scrappy terrier, laughing as the dog tugged at his shoelaces. “Because I’m here to remind you that you have plants you’ve barely managed to keep alive.”

“Low blow,” you snickered, standing up to join him. “But I could definitely handle one of these guys. Look at their little faces!”

Derek raised an eyebrow, his smile teasing. “Yeah, you say that now, but when you’re knee-deep in chewed shoes and puppy accidents, you’ll be texting me to dog-sit.”

You grinned, nudging his arm as the two of you continued walking down the row of cages. “I think we both know you’d love it.”

“Okay, maybe,” Derek admitted, glancing down at one of the puppies that had followed you to the edge of its cage. “But only because I’d get to play with them all day.”

“Exactly.” You shot him a grin. The day was filled with laughter and excitement, the two of you in your element—just two friends enjoying the company of animals and each other.

—

Derek was in the bullpen when he felt Spencer approach, that familiar presence hovering like a shadow. He looked up from his paperwork, knowing exactly what was coming.

“Hey,” Spencer said, his voice quieter than usual. “Can I ask... has Y/N said anything?”

Derek leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “Reid, man, I’ve told you—she doesn’t want to talk about it.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I just... I don’t understand how I could’ve hurt her this much. I didn’t think...” He trailed off, unsure of how to explain his regret without making excuses.

Derek rubbed a hand over his face, torn between wanting to protect you and wanting Spencer to see the bigger picture. “Look, I get that you didn’t mean to hurt her. But man, you’ve got to understand—she trusted you. And when you left, it wasn’t just about what happened back then. It’s about the fact that you walked away without a word.”

Spencer blinked, absorbing the weight of Derek’s words. “I didn’t know it would be this bad,” he whispered.

Derek shook his head slightly, his voice firm but not unkind. “That’s the problem, Spencer. You never thought about what it’d do to her. She wasn’t just mad. She was heartbroken.”

—

The sun was warm, and the café’s outdoor seating was just breezy enough to make the day feel perfect. You and Derek sat across from each other, laughing over your latest failed online shopping attempts.

“I swear, I ordered a rug, and it looked like it belonged in a dollhouse when it arrived,” you groaned, rolling your eyes dramatically. Derek threw his head back with a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Y/N, at this point, you should just let me handle your shopping. Your luck is terrible,” he teased, sipping his iced coffee.

“Don’t even try, Morgan. I can’t be trusted to order anything online, but I’m a wizard in an actual store.” You wagged a finger at him before diving into your sandwich. “Besides, you love dragging me around for advice.”

“Yeah, okay,” Derek grinned, “but we’re heading to the home goods store after this. No more rugs, though. Promise me.”

You smirked. “No promises. Let’s see where the wind takes us.”

The rest of the day was filled with easy banter as you roamed the aisles of a nearby store, pointing out throw pillows and quirky decor that caught your eye. Derek kept up the playful commentary, pretending to be appalled at your taste, but you could tell he was having just as much fun as you were.

At one point, he held up a neon-green lamp, his face mock-serious. “This. This is the statement piece your living room has been missing.”

“Oh my god, put that down before it blinds me,” you laughed, shoving him playfully as you moved on to the next aisle.

—

Penelope, Hotch, and JJ were deep in conversation when Derek noticed Spencer hovering nearby, clearly wanting to ask something but too nervous to interrupt. Derek already knew what was coming. It had become a pattern—every few days, Spencer would subtly try to ask about you without making it obvious.

As soon as the group dispersed, Spencer sidled up to Derek, eyes darting nervously around the bullpen. “Did Y/N say anything about... that thing you guys did last weekend?”

Derek raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “We grabbed lunch and went shopping. You want details about the food she ordered, or are you gonna admit what you’re really asking?”

Spencer’s face flushed, his hands twitching at his sides. “I... I just want to know if she’s okay.”

Derek sighed, his expression softening. “She’s okay, Spencer. It was a long time ago. But listen... you need to understand that just because she’s functioning now doesn’t mean she’s not still hurting.” He lowered his voice, giving Spencer a hard look. “If you really want to fix this, you’ve got to stop waiting for her to just be fine and start thinking about what you need to do to make things right.”

Spencer bit his lip, nodding. He opened his mouth as if to say something more, but Derek shook his head. “She’s not ready, man. Don’t push.”

—

As you sat in the car, driving back from the movies with Derek, you stared out the window, feeling peaceful. That is, until he finally broke the silence.

“So,” he said, his tone more serious than usual. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

You blinked, turning to him with a slight frown. “Talk about what?”

Derek glanced over at you, his brow furrowed slightly. “Spencer.”

The mention of his name hit you hard, but you quickly forced a smile, brushing it off. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Come on, Y/N. You’ve been great at pretending you’re fine, but I know you better than that. You’re good, but you’re not that good. I am a profiler, sweetheart.”

You sighed, leaning back in your seat. “I’m fine, Derek. I’ve moved on. I’m happy now.”

Derek didn’t respond right away. He pulled into a parking lot and turned off the engine, giving you a pointed look. “I know you’re happy, and I’m glad. But pretending those feelings don’t exist doesn’t make them go away.”

You bit your lip, staring down at your hands. “What do you want me to say? That it still hurts? That I’m angry? Because I am. I’m all of those things. But it doesn’t change anything. Spencer’s in the past, and I’m not letting him mess up what I’ve got now.”

Derek’s expression softened, his voice gentle as he leaned back. “I’m not saying you have to do anything. I just don’t want you to keep bottling it up.”

You exhaled slowly, the tension slipping out of your body as you met Derek’s gaze. “I’m fine. Really. But... thanks for asking.”

Derek smiled, nodding as he started the car again. “Alright. Just know I’m here, okay?”

You smiled back, feeling grateful for the reminder. “I know.”

“Would you be willing to talk to him? He’s pretty beaten up about the whole thing,” Derek asked cautiously, his eyes flicking over to you with that careful, almost too-soft look. It was the look he reserved for moments when he didn’t want to push you but knew he had to ask anyway.

Your stomach tightened at the mention of Spencer, the name still carrying more weight than you wanted to admit. You kept your gaze out the window, watching the buildings blur by, pretending the question didn’t send a ripple of unease through your chest.

“Derek…” you started, your voice trailing off, unsure of how to respond. The thought of seeing Spencer again, of opening that old wound, felt like more than you could handle.

“I know,” Derek cut in gently, sensing your hesitation. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was worth it. But I’ve talked to him, Y/N. He’s... not the same guy he was. He messed up, and he knows that.”

You shook your head slightly, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of your seatbelt. “I don’t know if I can, Derek. He left. Without a word. I don’t know what there is to talk about anymore.”

“I get that,” Derek said softly, his voice low and careful. “But maybe there’s some closure in it for you. And for him. You don’t have to forgive him, but maybe hearing him out would help. For both of you.”

You sighed, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Closure. Did you need it? Or was keeping Spencer in the past the only way to really move on?

“I don’t know,” you murmured finally, your voice thick with uncertainty.

Derek didn’t push any further, his silence a testament to how well he understood you. “It’s your call, babe,” he said after a long pause. “But just think about it. No pressure.”

You nodded slowly, your heart conflicted as you continued staring out the window, the unease still swirling inside you.

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

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[strangersteddierthings]

"What's wrong?" Robin asks, bumping her arm against his as she joins him leaning against the counter, staring out the front door of Family Video.

Steve doesn't bother to lie. Robin would know, she always does. "I'm not sure wrong is the right word, but it's, it's something."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Yeah," he says, taking a quick glance around. It's just after 11pm on Saturday. They've got another hour of work before they can officially close, but Hawkins closes down at 9. The store is empty currently, and since they're facing the door, they'll know if someone comes in. "I just don't know- I don't-"

"Gather your words. Speak when you're ready. I'm not going anywhere," Robin says, and it speaks volumes that she didn't call him dingus. Steve's never upset by the nickname, not really, but sometimes, when the conversation is heavy, he can't deal with nicknames. Especially not ones that are meant teasingly now but started as an insult.

"I feel- I feel ungrateful and, like, selfish, because I'm... I'm not happy with Eddie," Steve says, then immediately frowns because that's not right. It's not wrong, either, but it's. "I'm not unhappy with Eddie. I love him. I love him so much, Robin."

"I know you do. It's disgusting."

"And I got into this relationship knowing what Eddie's like. I love him 'cause of those things, not in spite of-"

"You don't have to convince me you love him."

"Right. Right. It's just. It's like, I thought, I don't know, that I wouldn't have to always be the guy?" Steve says, and it's followed by such a long pause that he looks over. It startles a laugh out of him at how much Robin looks like him right now. Confused, brow furrowed and mouth slightly open. That's his perplexed expression, and it's mirrored on Robin's face now.

Well. Not now because he laughed so she's glaring at him.

"Sorry. It was like looking into a mirror for a moment there."

She wrinkles her nose at him and says, "What do you mean 'always be the guy'?"

He lets out a sigh. "I just mean- Eddie's the first guy I've ever dated. And there was, like, unwritten rules when dating girls. Don't give me that face, I already know the rant about straights and their het-ro-norman-whatever-"

"Heteronormativity."

"Yes, that. I know it's bad, working on unlearning it, etcetera, etcetera. Can I just get through this using the words I do have?"

"Yes. Sorry."

He waves off her apology and continues, "So, the unwritten but absolute rules of straight dating. The guy asks. The guy plans the date. He pays, if it's something that requires money. He gets the door, offers his jacket if it's cold, gives the flowers and chocolates on Valentines Day and- sorry. The guy does all that. I do all that. And I just. I want to not, not have to?"

Robin's eyes soften and she gives a sad smile. "Eddie doesn't do those things?"

Steve frowns. "Not- he's done some of those things but it's not... It's never been romantic. Never felt... intentionally romantic. Which is why I feel so ungrateful and selfish. 'Cause Eddie's not a romantic. Not like I am. And I shouldn't expect him to be!"

She frowns. "But you don't expect him to be."

"I mean, yeah. I don't. Which just makes this worse, right? Because Eddie tries. In his own way. And I'm still..."

"What does Eddie do to try?"

"He loans me jackets when I'm cold. And it's- it's like a throwback to the upside down. He'll fold it all nice and then throw it at me full force. Like with the battle vest," Steve smiles at the memory, despite his sour mood.

"That doesn't sound very romantic. That sounds like an inside joke. He could do that same thing while not dating you and it wouldn't be weird."

"Can't an inside joke be romantic?"

Robin nods as she turns, back to the counter so she can hop up on it. "Can be. And I guess if you find get pelted in the face by jackets romantic, that's your kink."

"Why do I talk to you?" Steve groans, and Robin shrugs. "Anyway, I guess I just... I want to be the one taken care of, sometimes, but not just when- God, I'm so selfish, aren't I?" He paces away from the counter, running a hand through his hair.

Eddie's a good boyfriend. He listens when Steve rambles about sports and stats, asking questions and actually engages in conversation. He takes care of Steve when a migraine leaves him all but useless; gets him his meds and water and combs his fingers through Steve's hair softly until it lulls Steve to sleep. Eddie pays attention enough to know the little things about Steve that he doesn't say out loud.

"Not just when?" Robin prompts, and Steve realizes he quit talking.

"Not just when I'm hurt. I want doors held for me, and for him to plan a romantic night, either out or in! And I- I want him to give me his jacket by wrapping it around my shoulders like I do for him."

"I'm going to say something, and you aren't allowed to be upset by it."

Steve nods.

"You have to tell him. Eddie's not gonna know you want these things unless you say so."

He nods again, because he knows that. He does. It's just... "I got with him knowing he wasn't a romantic person. I don't want- I don't know how to say it without making it sound like I want him to change. Or make him feel like he's not enough, or that he's a bad boyfriend for not having done this and-"

"Steve! Jesus, now who's the mirror? It's Eddie. He loves you. He'll listen. Even as you fumble your way through an explanation. A conversation is not the make or break of this relationship."

Steve swallows even though it feels like there's stones piling up in his stomach. A single conversation broke his last relationship, but Eddie's not Nancy.

"Yeah. You're right. I think I'm just... I'm afraid of making Eddie feel that same way Nancy made me feel, when she called us bullshit. I was blinded-sided by it all and I don't, I can't do that to Eddie."

"You won't. 'Cause this situation is different. You love Eddie, and Eddie loves you, and that's real and true. I think it would hurt Eddie more to think there's this whole other category of shit he could be doing for you, but isn't, 'cause he doesn't even know you'd like it, much less want it."

Steve nods as she speaks. It's all true, and he feels less like there are stones in his stomach. "Thanks, Bobbin. I don't- I might give it a few days before I talk to Eddie about it, but I will."

"You better, dingus," she hopes off the counter and looks at the clock, groaning when she sees it's still not midnight. "Think Keith will kill us if we close early?"

"No way. He'd have to cover all our shifts until he can hire replacements. We're too valuable to him to die."

-

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @skepsiss @afewproblems

[ane-doodles]

Make it turquoise!

Cult of the Lamb Narindersona and Lambsona :D

Special thanks to @linkerbell for motivating me to draw, name and finally share them

Below information extracted from a conversation on discord:

Aneerinder:

(Using he/him for this occasion)

I wanted to maintain both the theme of the felines and the god of death but with a bit of the Japanese aesthetic that I like and other details that I usually use in my drawings.

First, the species is still a serval (like my Narinder) but in white. The stripes and spots they have are painted by him himself, except for the ears and tail, which are natural.

Instead of just making him the god of death, I wanted to base him a little more on the idea of a prophet, who receives messages from the future and teaches them to others if you ask in the right way. He is considered the writer of destiny, even though as such it is outside his area, how someone lives or dies is outside his power, he only receives them and archives the stories of their life.

Based on this idea of a writer/illustrator, the idea was born that his hands would function as a writing instrument (similar to this character in the movie 9 who had pen(? fingers to write). Constantly gushing ichor from these using them as ink…

Jumping to the moment of imprisonment hehehe

He is partially blinded using a paper talisman behind his head. To prevent it from being able to write or create something with the ink/ichor, it is surrounded by water, so that the ink always runs.

He also ends up being immobilized with red ropes as an allegory to the "red thread of destiny", especially his right hand is especially tangled to prevent him from continuing to "write the destiny of the gods". To prevent the ropes from breaking there are also paper talismans hanging from them.

In short, prevent him from writing/drawing in any way in order to keep the destiny of the gods in his hands. He ends up becoming dependent on other senses, little talking, much listening.

He loves stories, after all his job as a god is also to record the lives of mortals.

Their followers could ask for glimpses of their futures, which were considered predictions.

When someone dies and reaches the other side, they are given a scroll with a copy of the record of their life.

I'm still thinking about how to draw him, but if I design a shape for him as a follower, I'll most likely end up wearing glasses to see.

You will never in your life get him to close the haori he usually wears.

Aniki:

Ok lamb, she/her this time

The lamb genocide occurs during an expedition trip. She coincidentally returns to her village the day it is destroyed. Easily resigned, once she finished digesting the idea that she was the last of her kind she had no choice but to move on.

She's not built for combat, she's even terribly bad at dodging (like me qwq) which is why she dies often.

[Here I have an inside joke in which the god tells her "I may be blind, but I clearly see a lot of death in your future" jsjsjs]

Their crusades mainly consist of collecting resources and trading with traders.

She is very good at managing the cult, to the point where in the first five years it was already self-sustaining. She is also usually quick to meet the demands of her followers and thereby increase the faith of the cult, avoiding at all costs giving sermons because she is too shy to do so. Despite this, in casual conversations with cultists he often talks about the god of death in a way that unconsciously raises their faith.

She never takes the cult on herself, because she couldn't be interested in the idea of taking that burden on herself, which is why all the cult's statues and decorations revolve around the cat.

Now, having a self-sustaining cult and a faith that is constantly growing, she ends up having too much free time, so she spends her time putting together a collection of objects she finds around, making decorations for the cult, playing and exploring.

When she dies she tells stories of common events that occur in the cult, and in return the god tells her stories of past lives that have reached his domain. They have a constant exchange of stories which is what allows them to get closer.

She changes over time (new design yipee) and the crown upon returning to the god grants her a blessing in which she becomes the "eyes of god"

The new design only has some minor changes from the original.

Since she never had the ambition to take power, divinity never affected her.

She only had small surges of devotion and power that made her possessed by the god and that way she was able to defeat the bishops (similar to what a writer would do with his characters)