#I'm so so sorry this took so long to answer!!

[antlersarchives]

ａｌｌ ｎｉｇｈｔ

annie x reader

summary: storms roll in fast down south, and you can't bear to turn up on another stranger's doorstep, so you end up on the only one you care to know - and end up spending the night with less deliberation than you thought.

a/n: this took a long time to get out I'm sorry, but here she is in all her glory, and I'm pretty proud of this one.. please feel free to send more requests and more requests for our girl!!

w/c: 2k

warnings: comfort from wounds, cleaning wounds, slight hot and heavy smut but mostly tender fluff.

The cicadas were loud tonight, buzzing in the oaks just outside the shack, but inside it was still. The kind of quiet that settles after heat breaks — a summer storm having just rolled through, leaving everything slick and breathing heavy.

You sat shirtless on the edge of the bed, sweat still clinging to your skin, the bandage on your ribs stained and loose. The oil lamp flickered on the nightstand, casting gold across the worn floorboards and onto Annie, kneeling in front of you, sleeves rolled up and hands steady.

She dipped a rag in warm water, and wrung it out with slow, movements, some herbs and ointment clinging to the cloth soundly, then glanced up through dark lashes. 

“You could’ve gone to Doc Kelley in town,” she murmured. “Why come here?”

You winced as she touched the cloth to your side. “Didn’t feel like explaining how I got it.”

“Bar fight?”

“Somethin’ like that.” You watched her dab blood and dirt away with a scratch, her fingers gentle, but her jaw tight. “Didn’t figure the doctor would be as kind.”

Annie let out a breath — not quite a sigh, more like something heavier. “Ain’t about kindness,” she said, voice soft and careful. “It’s about truth. Most folks can’t look a scar in the face without flinchin’ at it.”

You swallowed. “But you can.”

She paused. Her eyes met yours. “I got no choice not with the way I been taught.”

Her hands moved lower, sliding the cloth beneath the ribs where the gash curved like lightning, its edges glowing with an eerie blue that no normal wound should possess. Truth be told you didn't completely know where it came from, some fight went down but something otherworldly hit you that's for sure—the flesh around it pulsed with an unnatural rhythm, as if following the heartbeat of something not quite human.

The air between you thickened — not just from the heat, but from the way she looked at you like she was reading what no one else had the patience to, her pupils dilating until they nearly swallowed the iris, reflecting knowledge of things that existed beyond the veil of ordinary perception.

“I’ve seen men die over less,” she whispered, breaking the silent trance. “And I’ve seen what gets left behind when they live.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not with the way she was touching you — not just skin, but something deeper. Her thumb smoothed over an old, greying scar just above your hip.

“How long you been carryin’ this one?” she asked, barely a whisper now.

You swallowed hard. “Since ‘31. Rail job went bad.”

She nodded, and you saw it — a flash of memory in her own eyes. Pain she wasn’t speakin’ about, not yet.

Then she set the cloth down and kissed it. The scar. Just once. Just enough.

You froze — not from fear, but from the weight of it. The reverence it carried.

“They ain’t ugly,” she said, voice trembling like the flickering flame. “They’re yours. And you’re still here.”

You reached for her, fingers curling under her dampened chin. “So are you.”

She leaned into you then — slowly, like she didn’t want to scare the moment but unable to run away from it. Her body eased against yours, one leg folding under her, the other stretched along the bed. Her hand traced the line of your chest, her lips soft against your shoulder.

Outside, the crickets started their song again. Somewhere down the road, a dog barked once and a couple shouts sounded before the night fell quiet.

Inside, all you heard was her breath and your heartbeat.

“You don’t gotta be strong for me,” she whispered. “You don’t even gotta pretend.”

You brushed at her face, kissing the top of her head. “Not with you.”

She stayed like that — curled against you, arm draped across your stomach, thumb slowly tracing one of your oldest wounds.

And for the first time in a long time, the South didn’t feel so heavy. Not with her touch. Not with her here.

The storm had passed, but it hadn’t taken the heat with it.

The air clung to your skin — heavy, damp, humming with something that didn’t have a name yet. The smell of rain still curled under the windowsill — wet earth, pine and tobacco smoke left from a half-burned cigarette.

Annie hadn’t moved for a while. She was still pressed against you, her body a line of warmth along your side, but her eyes had gone distant. Watching the dark beyond the window like she knew something waited out there. No fear in her — no, Annie didn’t scare easy — but something stirred in her quiet.

“You hear that?” she asked, soft.

You’d been listening to her breath. To the soft creak of the bed frame beneath you both. But now you noticed: the crickets had stopped. Even the trees seemed to be holding themselves still.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “It’s gone quiet.”

Annie sat up slowly, the scarf around her slipping down her shoulder. The cotton of her slip stuck to her back, clammy with sweat and storm air. She wiped at her forehead, fingers sedated like she was moving through water. Her brow furrowed, lips parted — not from panic, just... presence.

“Somethin’s shiftin’,” she observed, almost to herself. “You ever feel it in your teeth? Like thunder that ain’t come yet.”

You nodded. You knew that feeling. Born with it, maybe. And somehow she always had been.

But you watched her more than the window — the way her posture had stiffened just enough to make your hand move to her hip. The way she licked her lips like her mouth had gone dry.

“You think we’re bein’ watched?” you asked.

“No.” She paused. “But I think we ain’t alone.”

She stood, crossed to the window with bare feet against old pine floorboards, and pushed the curtain back just enough to look. The warm light of the lamp haloed her, casting the shape of her onto the floor — long legs, curved waist, the hem of her slip hugging the mid-way at her thighs.

“Nothin’ out there but trees and ghosts,” she said at last. “Not the kind that knock on the door. Just the kind that breathe down your neck.”

You rose too, coming to her slow, cautious, like if you startled her she might disappear. You slipped your arms around her waist from behind, pulling her gently against your chest.

She let out a breath — long, staggered — and melted into you, her hands finding yours over her hips.

“No one’s going back out there” she whispered. “Not tonight.”

“Then we’ll stay here, no ones leavin’”

She tilted her head, resting it against your cheek tenderly. “I know. I just… needed to hear it.”

Your lips brushed the edge of her jaw, lingering there at each moment.You could taste the salt — from her sweat, or your own and not that you cared any. This was the kind of closeness that didn’t ask for anything except truth.

“Come back to bed,” you whispered.

She turned in your arms and kissed you then — not hurried, not hungry, just deep. The kind of kiss that says I survived this long and I’m still trying. Her hands slid to your chest, pushing you back toward the mattress, not with force — just with elegant intent.

You let her guide you down, the bed creaking under your weight. She followed, one knee slipping over your hip, straddling you slow, her breath hitching slightly when your hands found the curve of her waist under the thin layer of clothes.

“I don’t want fast,” she wetted against your mouth. “I want slow. I want it to mean somethin’.”

“It already does,” you said.

Annie’s lips parted like she wanted to say more — but she didn’t need to. Instead, she rolled her hips against yours, soft friction, slow rhythm, just enough to make both of you sigh into each other’s mouths.

Your hands moved under her slip, sliding up the curve of her spine, feeling every rib, every scar, every soft shiver beneath your fingertips. She leaned her forehead to yours, eyes half-lidded, breath catching.

“Feels like the world’s tryin’ to take everything,” she whispered. “But not this.”

You kissed her — long, open, reverent. Like prayer. Like worship.

Her eyes stayed on yours as she slid her hands beneath the hem of your shirt — slow, deliberate. Her fingers were warm and sure, gliding up your sides, tracing the shape of old scars, new bruises, skin still buzzing from her touch.

“You don’t need to hold anything with me,” she murmured, voice thick with heat and calm. “Let me see.”

And you did.

She pulled the fabric over your head, eyes never breaking from yours, her gaze heavy, steady — like she was memorising the way you came apart. Your breath caught, not from nerves, but from the way her fingers returned immediately to your chest, splayed wide, grounding you to the moment.

She pressed you back onto the bed with nothing more than a hand at your sternum.

Then her hands moved lower, slow as molasses, tugging at your waistband, knuckles brushing your heaving skin. She made you wait — not cruelly, just with purpose. Like every second she took was a sentence written on your body.

And when you were bare beneath her, the light danced cross your skin, she didn’t look away.

Didn’t rush.

She just drank you in, eyes soft but serious, the kind of look that made your pulse stutter.

“You’re beautiful when you ain’t hidin’,” she whispered.

Then she leaned down, her lips brushing your stomach, a kiss that burned more than any flame. Not rushed. Not greedy.

Just hers.

And your hands cast over her curves, slipping higher and higher up her thighs, and her breath hitched her skirt was up to her middle.

And she moaned, parting her legs just enough, letting you see her.

Let you know her.

There was no hurry in the way you caressed one another— no rush to reach the end. She was savouring every inch of you, pulling a quiet groan from your throat as she dipped lower, her fingers tracing you with such care it almost felt like worship.

And then she kissed you again — this time, not soft, but with a hunger that had been building between you for longer than you cared to admit. You pressed her body into hers, her chest against yours, her breath hot against your lips as she moved against you. Her hands slid over your thighs, and then she was pulling you closer, guiding your body with a deliberate rhythm that made your head spin.

You weren't sure where the heat originated—whether it sparked from her flushed skin or ignited within your core—but it blazed between you now, undeniable and consuming. She moved above you with delicate precision, her body arching and flowing like liquid fire, each subtle shift of her hips sending electric currents across your heaving skin. Her warm breath caressed your neck before her full lips brushed against your earlobe, the sensation making you shudder involuntarily as she whispered with honeyed confidence, "Don't worry, sugar. I've got you.”

And you did. Every movement of hers felt like it was bringing you deeper under her control, but you didn’t care. There was something in the way she moved, the way she held you close, that made you want to surrender to her entirely.

And just like that, the world outside dissolved into a distant blur. All that mattered was the intoxicating warmth of her body pressed against yours, the purposeful touch of her hands guiding you through the moment, the hypnotic rhythm of your shared breath mingling in the narrow space between you, and the quiet, steady hunger building between you both—a silent conversation of desire that needed no words.

Outside, the world might’ve been crawling toward something ugly. But here — in this bed, under her breath and your hands and the hum between your bodies — there was only softness.

Only heat.

Only her.

And she whispered your name like it was the first true thing she’d said in a long time.

[akindaflora]

Dessert in the Studio

Pairing: Bangchan x Female Reader

Theme: Smut

Quick Summery: Chan working a tad bit too hard so you decided to bring him some dinner and he decides he needs you close.

THOSE UNDER 18 PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT

This is all complete works of fiction and please treat it as such.

It had been a long night, well, not for you. Today you were off and while you spent the morning cleaning and small every day to day tasks, you couldn’t help but think of him.

He left this morning to do some work, and when it was well on its way to lunch. You had texted him when he would be home, but he didn’t give a real answer. Not until the hours were approaching dinner.

Sorry baby, I'm almost done. Go ahead and sleep, I'll be there when you wake up. Love you - Chan

Chan wasn’t always busy like this, but it was the finishing touches of a due date, and you knew that on those kinds of days he’d be too far focused on the task at hand. So focused he didn’t really eat a proper meal. So you decided that if he wasn’t going to come home, you’d bring it to him.

Here you were outside his studio warm meals at hand. You had already texted the rest of 3racha wondering if they were going to be there, but the boys told you they were home, already finished with their side of the work.

You knocked softly before opening the door, knowing that Chan would never mind you coming in. There he sat in his ridiculously comfy office chair, the glow of the desktop and the blue light glasses you got him last Christmas shielding his focused gaze.

“Channie, come on break time, I brought dinner,” you said sweetly as you closed the door. He nodded slightly before typing for a few more seconds, slowly turning around to meet your soft gaze.

The tiredness in his eyes only lessened slightly but still remained as he watched you walk into his awaiting arms.

“Baby, you didn’t have to,” he said as he closed his arms around your waist. His strong jaw lay softly on your stomach as he looked up at you. Your hands couldn’t help but trace the muscles of his face.

“But then you would only eat protein bars for dinner, and how will I sleep at night knowing my love hasn’t eaten well,” you said, slightly pouting. His smile deepened at your care, and he slowly raised in your hold his arms, tightening around you as his head nuzzled in your neck.

“You treat me so well,” he said in a voice that trembled into a pout.

“Not as well as you treat me,” you said, softly taking in his scent that always seemed to warm you. You pulled away slightly, not before kissing his lips in a quick peck, “Now come on, handsome, your dinner's getting cold,” you said, but he remained locked in your warmth, picking you up as your legs circled around his waist. Giggling as you both made it to the couch.

He sat you down first, but before you could get comfortable, he was already pulling you into his lap, your back meeting the warmth of his chest. He sighed as his head rested on your shoulder.

“Are you gonna eat like this?” you giggled at him.

He only let the slight noise of a mhmm as his hands rubbed softly at your waist. It took everything in you to not squirm.

“Okay,” you said, softly opening the containers for dinner.

While it was a tad bit awkward, you didn’t mind feeding him. He didn’t do this often, but whenever he had worked just a tad bit too hard, he’d cling to you and say, “I need my emotional support, human,” pulling you in deeper. You always worried about his digestive system when he ate like this, but when you saw the tired pout in his eyes, you couldn’t help but let it slide.

And tonight it was just one of those nights. He didn’t speak much, but you’d tell him about your quiet day and catch him up on the work drama from time to time. He only gives a few facial reactions and laughs when you say something funny.

When the meal had finished, you both sat on the couch, wrapped in each other, letting the quiet hum of the air conditioner fill the sounds of your breath.

Peace was something that came naturally in your relationship with Channie, and you both were appreciative of it. With his loud career as an idol and your sensitivity to noises these moments were precious.

But sometimes they became a tad bit more intimate, like now, the feeling of his lips on your neck. The kisses weren’t just soft touches of adoration. No, they were slow and filled with yearning for more than the feeling of heat or the smell of your perfume.

As his lips began to nibble, pulling in the most upsetting, slow ways, his name left your lips in a moan. “Channie here,” is all you said breathlessly.

And he gave that same “mhmm” as before but this time it wasn’t filled with sleep but purpose. Just like the same purpose his hands had as they roamed your body.

You couldn’t help but flutter your eyes as his fingers wrapped around your nipple, the chills that sprang when his hands began to undo your pants.

“Look at me,” he said, pulling his lips from your neck. Your doe eyes followed as you turned your head to him. You could feel his member brushing against you, his hand that slithered to your nipped pulled your head rapidly to his lips.

Tonight, he decided to set the place however he pleased. His lips softly overlapping yours, pulling back to only lick at the shape of your lips before pushing his tongue into your mouth. You could taste your cooking on his tongue you could feel the way the warmth of his mouth consumed you.

A moan left you as his hand brushed your other lips. Drawing lazy circles just near your clit.

“Channie, please,” you said desperately, knowing he would listen. Both your lips were not even a hair away as he kissed you softly. “I got you baby,” he said pecking at them now as he rubbed his member slightly at the back of your butt.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he said now with a groan of his own as his fingers finally circled into you. His lips find your neck again.

He suddenly picked up the speed, causing you to slightly jerk in his hold. But his other hand only held you closer to him as his lips came close to your ear.

“You know better,” he said in a whisper as his hand slipped in finger by finger, he stretched you out. Normally, Chan was the type to make love, to treat you with respect, only letting himself lose it every once in a while. Then there was frustrated Chan who railed you in dumb to let some tension loose, but this Chan was always your favorite, he’d like to take his time devouring you. Using slow moments nipping in places, and he’d watched you lose it to the point of insanity. Making you feel wanted in ways like no other.

Just like he was doing now, fingering you in intervals of quick and slow, and going back and forth whenever you moaned just a tad bit too much.

Like clockwork, you could feel a moan coming, but you did your best to not let it out. Currently, he was going at a pace that was lazy in movement, but every swipe, every bump had a purpose in unraveling, leading you closer to that deep satisfaction.

“Sneaky baby,” he said, kissing your temple as he suddenly quickened his speed, holding you tighter to his chest as you squirmed.

“Please, Channie,” you said in between moans.

“Please, what baby. Use those pretty words,” he said mockingly.

“Please let me cum,” you said head now resting on his shoulder as he looked at your unraveling face.

“Okay,” he said, simply pulling out his hand from your pants. You only looked confused, but he motioned for you to get up, and you did with a slight tremor, the blood still not circulating properly from your unwarranted torture by pleasure. Chan turned you around and quickly removed your pants. You gasped at the coldness. He smirked and quickly pulled his cock of his jersey shorts.

“Wait right there and watch this for me, yeah,” he said, slowly gathering himself in slow strokes.

You squirmed at the sight, your legs coming together, but he only softly slapped your thigh, forcing you to separate them. “I wanna see,” he said, his eyes taking in the glistening shape of you.

His hand quickened slightly as he moaned from his hand and the sight of you.

“Come here,” he strained out, pulling at your thigh, his face coming closer to your source. “I wanna eat my dessert,” was all he said before his warm tongue grazed at your clit. He ate away at you as your hips rocked into his face. His other hand was still slowly stroking himself. His moans sent vibrations through you as you shuddered and moaned at his desperation. One hand in his hair, pulling him closer, while the other kept you from falling, firmly leaning on the wall.

Your high came sooner than later as you felt the blur of your mind from pleasure. You gasped as he licked slightly at you. “Gotta save some for mini me, think he’s hungry too,” he said slapping your ass as you pull back. You shrank slowly as he pulled you down. His darkening eyes met yours as you sank to his lap, as he lined up at your entrance. Both gasped before he rammed into you. The deep moans filling both your ears.

“Look at me,” he said, your fluttered eyes met his lust-filled ones as you both moved in sync, meeting at the base. Moans mixing in with breaths as you connected even further.

His hand resting at the small of your back to keep you close as his other hand wrapped, gripping at your thigh to keep him stable, keep you close. Until a settle fuck left his lips both hands grabbing at your waist and he rammed into you.

You lost it, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head at the feeling. With him hitting so deeply within you.

“No, no baby, keep your eyes on me,” he said. You struggled to focus, as moans left your lips, holding onto his shoulder, gripping in the pleasure that he gave you.

You could feel it, the pleasure building up the sweat that dripped from his hair, the way his eyes consumed you, the grip of his hands as you pulsed around him. You were close, and he knew, “Go on, come on me. Please, baby, I wanna feel it,” he said with desperation ramming into you faster.

And just as he was about to do it again, you tightened around him a loud moan, leaving your lips as you unraveled, falling into his shoulder, nearly going limp from the over stimulation.  

But you knew he was just as close. With as much energy as you had left, you moved your hands around his head, huffs of moans and air leaving your lips as you found his. He met with a deep kiss, messy and full of hunger, as he sought out his own completion.

Moments passed as you moan into his mouth, desperate to stay close before he groans into your mouth. Holding you close as he busted right into you. His cum warming you as you finally were able to go limp in his arms.

The quiet hum of the air conditioner is back as the ringing in your ears finally stopped. And both your heated breaths had calmed down.

His arms were still wrapped around you, and he was still buried in you. “Thank you for dinner and dessert, baby, it was delicious,” he said, kissing your temple.

You could only weakly hit his chest as you giggle at his complete 180 of his personality.

“You’re a menace,” was all you breathed out.

He laughed at your choice of words, “Only for you now, let’s get you cleaned up.. I’m tired after our after-dinner workout,” you laughed even harder.

How you got lucky with this dork, the world would never know, but whoever was on your side definitely gave you only the best.

dividers by @cafekitsune

AN: Hi this is my first time writing something like this and at first I was slightly uncomfortable writing stuff like this but this story came to me suddenly and I like it way to much to not share it with you all. If there is a good response maybe I'll write more stuff like this but I fear I like writing my fluff a lot more haha. Anyway hope you'd all enjoy. Please don't be afraid to interact with me. I get lonely writing to the void sometimes.

-YaYa

[reidology13]

meet me in the hallway - chapter two

Spencer Reid x fem victim!reader

cw: fluff, angst, drug addiction, non-graphic depictions of injury, insecurities, really fucking bad parenting, pain medication, r almost has a panic attack lowkey, we start teasing r's trauma wc: 3k a/n: So this took... a lot longer than I thought it would. I'm so sorry to anyone who read the first part in January and thought you would get a quick update. I thought so too, but here we are!

Chapter 1

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

After Spencer left the room, you fell back asleep quickly, the exhaustion taking over you as you turned over the interactions in your head. The sleep was restless, waking up often to pains or nurses stabbing you with needles and asking you ridiculous questions that they clearly already had the answers to. But eventually, the hints of morning light started to filter through the curtains, sixteen hours of drifting in and out of sleep finally over. It wasn’t long after that things started to pick up around your bed.

It started when you saw Hotchner outside of your room, talking to one of the nurses. Then JJ arrived, an ominously large stack of forms in hand, luckily only one of them landed in your lap when she entered the room.

“You need to fill this out, it’s just a written agreement to everything that you’ve already verbally agreed to. I promise there aren’t any weird clauses, but you can read through it if you want to be sure.” You were too tired to care all that much whether there was some odd trap in the margins as you skimmed over it, although you couldn’t imagine why the FBI would do that to you of all people. You quickly signed on every dotted line before handing the paper back to JJ, gesturing to the large stack in her arms.

“Where are all of those going?”

“A lot of people in this hospital have seen you alive, these are my personal nightmare.” She gave you a tired smile, tapping the stack as if to show it off before she hurried out of the room, a bounce in her step as she headed off to deal with people who likely wouldn’t sign papers as easily as you had.

After another hour of watching out of the window, you saw Spencer walk up to Hotchner, a small bag in hand, glancing over at you every few moments. You caught his eye, and he waved to you, saying something short to Hotchner before taking a few steps to the doorway, poking his head into the room.

“We should be leaving pretty soon now, I brought some clothes from your apartment. I wasn’t sure what you would like to wear, so I brought three tops, two bottoms, a pair of shoes…” He faltered, trailing off for a moment as he tried to figure out how to say whatever he was going to say next, “I also, uh, brought some underclothes, sorry for the invasion of privacy.”

“It’s fine, Spencer, thank you for bringing my stuff.” You smiled at how needlessly uncomfortable he was, adorably unnerved about something so normal. You sat up, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and taking the bag from him, choosing some of the items and standing up, “I’m just gonna head to the bathroom.”

He nodded silently, seeming relieved at the fact you hadn’t started screaming at him, or whatever he was scared you would do. You slipped into the bathroom, locking the door behind you and shedding the itchy hospital gown. You hissed with each pull of your stitches as your skin stretched over your ribs when you pulled your shirt over your head. The movement was more than you were used to from the past few days in hospital, only moving to go to the toilet or for short walks around your room to help with recovery.

You heard his voice coming through the closed door, even from the muffled sound you could hear the urgency in his tone. Opening the door, you saw him standing exactly where you left him, phone to his ear, hunched over in that way people did when they were trying to hide whatever they were talking about.

“Thanks, JJ.” He hung up, snapping shut the phone and placing it in his pocket, starting what could only be described as a frantic pace around the room.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s been a leak, you are officially alive and well. We need to get you to the safe house now.” He almost murmured the words under his breath, like he was talking to himself more than to you.

You didn’t respond, you didn’t have the words to, just followed him out of the room as the realisation settled over you that according to FBI profilers, you were now at the top of the killer’s hit list. You spared a thought for JJ, how much work she had put into keeping your survival a secret, only for it to be too late.

Being moved undercover from a hospital to a safe house wasn’t exactly a common occurrence for you. Overall, it was unenjoyable, but that was mostly to do with the fact that curling up in a janitor’s trolley is not comfortable when you have a healing stab wound. The apartment was large, nice, exactly what you would expect from the area, bending in perfectly, although you had no idea what it looked like from the outside. You would have explored further, but your stitches were pulling, you were tired, and the thought of lying down in an actual bed was too tempting to turn down. Getting dibs on the bigger of the two rooms, you employed Spencer to help move your things from the living room to your new abode for the next… while.

Once everything had been moved, you paid him back by carrying the few light bags and boxes you could into his room. Spencer offered you a glass of water for your hard work, and you thanked him with a tired smile, one he had seen many times during your short acquaintance. You were exhausted after the moving, practically collapsing onto your new bed, except that would have been agonising, so instead you very carefully laid yourself down on the pristine sheets. It almost felt wrong after the week spent on the hard bed with scratchy sheets, but despite your initial rejection the blankets embraced you, taking you into their soft arms. In a matter of moments you were fast asleep, lying vaguely nestled amongst the covers.

.*☆¸•

The next morning, the untouched glass sat on your bedside table.

You went through the motions, it took you somewhere between five minutes and half an hour to drag yourself out of bed, the blankets doing their best to pull you back down into the blissful abyss of sleep. You were forced to brush your teeth with your non-dominant hand—a habit you were picking up very slowly—to keep your stitches from pulling, making the ordeal take significantly longer than it should have. It gave you time to think, as if you hadn’t had plenty of that in the past week, practically tied to the hospital bed. You wondered how on earth you ended up there, supposedly at the top of a serial killer’s hit list, in a safe house with an FBI agent that you were growing increasingly fond of by the day. Five days clean—well, apart from the pain meds you were on, but even those were at a low dosage. Speaking of,

“Hey, are you up?” Spencer’s voice called from the other side of your bedroom door, “You should take your medication now.”

“Just a moment.” You put down your tooth brush and exited the ensuite, opening the bedroom door to let him in.

“Thanks.” He skirted around you awkwardly, stepping into the room, which he didn’t really need to do, since he was just giving you your meds, but you didn’t really mind. You were starting to think that he could get away with a lot of things around you.

“Why’s it so important I take them now? Are there, like, side effects? Or…” You trailed off, not really sure what else it could be. You’d been fed the medication through an IV in the hospital, so you hadn’t needed to pay much attention to when the nurse added them. Maybe if you took them five minutes late you would shrivel up and die.

“It’s not really, I just calculated when would be the most efficient time to take them, factoring in variations of metabolism throughout the day.” You had to admit, whatever mathematical equations he had going in his head, it was kind of cute how much he cared.

“Oh.” The clinical approach he had to your health had the potential to be either very useful or very annoying, probably both.

“Neat, huh?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, despite having absolutely no idea what he was talking about, he sounded certain enough that you trusted him.

“Are you okay to take them with the water?” He gestured to the cup on your nightstand before glancing up at you again, those soft brown eyes clearly worried about making your situation as pleasant as possible, “I could get you some milk, if you want.”

“Babe, you don’t get to where I am without knowing how to dry swallow.”

“You’re not funny.” Rolling your eyes at his lack of humour, you plucked the little cup of pills out of his hands.

“I’m a little funny.” You pinched your fingers together in front of his face, huffing as he pushed your hand away from him. You took the pills he gave you, swallowing them all without water, as if to prove a point that certainly didn’t need proving.

“Please drink some water now, if one of those pills gets stuck in your esophagus it could have inflammatory effects.”

“Anything for you.” You winked, handing him back the now-empty cup before walking over to your nightstand to grab the glass, taking a few sips of water.

“O-kay… You should have breakfast now.” Spencer dodged your gaze nervously, ever the stereotype of the awkward nerd, although you supposed that to end up in the FBI he had to have some hidden edge.

“Why?” You groaned, not quite ready to force yourself out of your room.

“To make sure your stomach can handle the medication.” He started back towards the door, clearly expecting you to follow him.

“Can I at least change first?” You were still in your clothes from the day before, you hadn’t showered, you felt disgusting.

“Oh, of course, sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise.” You laughed as he rushed out of the door.

You headed back to the bathroom, quickly showering before getting dressed in the easiest thing for you to put on—a loose dress with no zips or buttons that would complicate your movements. Holding the neck open, you stepped into it, pulling it up over your hips and slipping your arms into the sleeves before shrugging it into place with a wince.

As you slunk into the kitchen, you breathed in the smells of breakfast with a sigh, your stomach rumbling with the fervour of someone who hadn’t eaten in days. Which wasn’t that far from the truth, having not eaten since lunch the day before.

“Whatcha making?” You leaned forward, your forearms resting against the kitchen island as you watched Spencer standing over the stove.

“Eggs, how do you like them?” He made a face when you told him that made it obvious the two of you had very different tastes. You snickered at that, this man who was so pretentious about eggs, of all things.

“You could at least pretend not to judge me.”

“I’m not!” He raised his hands in surrender, his voice pitching up defensively as you circled around the bench and walked towards him, as if your movement was a threat to his safety.

“You’re quite skittish for an agent, aren’t you?” You teased, wincing slightly as you hopped up to sit on the bench behind him.

“I’m also making you breakfast, so maybe try to be nice.” He said, serving the finished eggs onto a piece of toast on a plate, and held it out for you to take from him. You placed it down on the bench beside you, pulling out the drawer right next to your knees and finding the cutlery, taking out a knife and fork.

“I wasn’t being mean, I was making an observation.” You cut a piece from your toast, stabbing it with your fork and bringing it to your lips as he cracked a few more eggs into the pan for his own breakfast.

“Sure.” He murmured, distracted by his cooking efforts, seemingly not the most practiced chef.

“Fuck, these are good.” You praised, mouth still full of eggs and toast.

“Not so rude now, are we?” If you were writing a list of words to describe Doctor Spencer Reid, it would be becoming increasingly contradictory: Annoying, sweet, analytical, dense, awkward, smooth, nervous, and now smug.

You didn’t say anything in response, deciding to forego a spat in favour of enjoying the food he’d made, although maybe part of its deliciousness was that you hadn’t eaten anything but hospital food for a week. The two of you sat in silence as he cooked his eggs, plated them, and sat on the bench next to you, your knees knocking into each other as you both ate. When you were both finished, Spencer took your plates to the sink, and you watched in silence as he washed up. Before you could start to feel guilty, he passed you a hand towel and pressed a plate into your hand. Only once everything was washed, dried, and put away, did he speak.

“We’re gonna have to start working soon.” He helped you come down from the bench, holding your weight in just the right places to keep your pain as minimal as possible, “The unsub could take another victim any day now.”

“Yeah, about that. What am I supposed to do?” The way he talked about it, it was like he expected you to be more than the witness you were. Which, given the fact that you’d never been part of a murder investigation before, and that you weren’t exactly the brightest, didn’t seem like it was going to be very useful for the case.

“You have a specialised knowledge of the world we—and likely our unsub—are working in.” He gestured to the penthouse you were in, which really wasn’t that fancy, if you were being honest.

“That’s not going to help you much, I don’t know what to look for.”

“You’ll learn, I’ll teach you.” You’d been told by countless people that you were an impossible student, you doubted his efforts would work, but resisting was only going to make him push harder. Better to let him figure it out himself.

“Cool, so when do we start?” Stepping away from him slightly—needing to put some distance between you and your lie by omission—you walked to the fridge, pouring yourself a glass of water. You let the cold liquid slip down your throat, soothing it, freezing it for a moment, silencing you.

“First, you’re just going to do your job as a witness. Ideally, we would’ve taken your statement once you were conscious in the hospital, but you were coming down hard and any statements would’ve been unreliable. So, make yourself at home, and I’ll take your statement after lunch, does that sound good?”

“I think I can do that.” You weren’t sure you could do anything else, though.

Drifting away from Spencer, you set off to explore the apartment, a modest three bedrooms with an ensuite for each, a guest bathroom, a dining room—no chandelier—a large study, a living room. Nice, not too fancy. There was a grand piano in the living room, you’d taken lessons as a child, but it had been a long time since you’d cared to play. You looked away from it quickly, feeling your breath speed up uncomfortably at the memories that came with playing it. You weren't a fan of the living room.

The study was much nicer, you decided, a small couch in one corner of the room, you noticed your violin in another. Crossing the room, you gently plucked it from its stand. The instrument you’d continued to play throughout the years, it came to you naturally.

Lifting it to your shoulder, you placed your chin on the rest, your fingers already in place. Your breathing calmed, mind quieting at the feeling, at the sound as you slowly dragged the bow across the strings. Music filled the room as you tapped your foot to the familiar beat in your head. Your fingers danced along the strings instinctively, with a careful, delicate precision.

You played until your fingers hurt too much to continue, the melody dying with one final tremor.

“You're good.”

“Thanks.” You placed the violin back down on the stand with a smile, your voice shaking slightly with surprise, having not noticed your audience of one.

“It's good to have a hobby, a distraction.” He crossed his arms over his chest, as if shielding himself from the world.

You nodded, “Yeah, helps a bit.” It didn't help enough, you could only play for so long before the ache of your fingers brought you back to reality. And once you were back in reality, unfriendly memories slipped through the cracks. You had the urge to ask him what he did, his distraction, but that would be overstepping.

“I play chess.” He answered your unasked question, using his ridiculously accurate mind reading skills, “If you ever want a match.”

“I’ve never played before.” You’d never been inclined to learn, the general consensus between your friends and family was that it wasn't exactly your pace, a little too complex.

“I can teach you?”

“Sure, yeah.” You agreed, more to appease him than anything.

“We have a few hours before lunch, should be enough time for you to learn the basics.” He gestured to the couch, and you sat down on it as he walked to the desk, taking out a mobile chess set and placing it down in front of you. He pulled the desk chair over to the table, opposite from you, and sat down.

By the time lunch came around, you had lost seven games in a row, although Spencer claimed you were incredibly talented for a beginner.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

tysm for reading!!

Tags: @reidmoony-toast @1mnshw @pleasantwitchgarden @pacmil @moonz33 @meowlusions @iyskgd - Comment to be added <3

[emichanted]

Just curious!!

How would you see Kaiser taking care of his sick partner?

➷ When You're Sick ft. Michael Kaiser

Contains: Fluff, Gender Neutral!Reader :3

The flu had hit you hard. One minute, you were fine, the next, you were burning up with a fever, curled up in bed, and mewling in pain. Kaiser, ever the picture of icy composure, hovered nearby, a frown etched onto his face. "Useless," he muttered, but his voice lacked its usual bite.

He'd reluctantly agreed to stay and look after you, even though you hadn't asked. Now, he found himself fetching water, checking your temperature every hour, and even attempting to make soup. The soup, predictably, was a disaster... Kaiser wasn't the best cook.

As you drifted in and out of sleep, Kaiser sat beside you, a rare moment of vulnerability on his face. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead, a gesture so gentle, it was almost shocking.

When you had woken up, feeling much better, there wasn't a sign of Kaiser anyway. He had probably fled before you woke up to avoid all the thank yous. Even though he was your partner for a while, he wasn't too keen on showing his soft side. You didn't mind since it's the gestures he did, wether he hid them or not, that showed that he did love you.

A/N: sorry it took me so long to answer this but I'm finally feeling better after being sick. I decided to write kaiser like this, because I feel like even with his partner he'd still be reluctant to show how much he cares, but obviously his partner knows he cares for them :)

Psst... Check out my other works here !

[itsaspectrumcomic]

hi, sorry, feel free to completely ignore this, i don’t know if i am overstepping as this is a bit of a vent i guess but i just don’t know what to do or feel

so i was fairly confident that i am autistic (and very maybe have adhd too but not too sure about that one) so with my parents, because i am still 17 (i also went through the child diagnosis), i tried to get a diagnosis and today we got the results. turns out according to the assessment i am neither autistic nor do i have adhd but only possibly a social phobia and emotional stress. this is very upsetting to me, i really thought i would get the diagnosis for autism

and it took so long for me to be comfortable to call myself autistic even without the official diagnosis and now i am having doubts again. maybe they are right and i am actually not autistic and just like that without, i don’t know, a real ‘reason’? i know that sounds bad but i can’t help thinking it.

can i just continue on like i never tried to get diagnosed? because it literally says that i was wrong. i’m so sorry for just dumping this on you, i just don’t know what to do

I'm so sorry you didn't get the answer you were hoping for, it must have been very distressing to be invalidated like that.

It's possible the assessors were wrong, especially since you had to go through a process aimed at children despite being 17. Children can display and are assessed pretty differently to those who are older, and if you're high masking it could easily have been missed. It's also possible the assessors were basing their diagnosis too much on stereotypes, which can be common depending on where you are and who assessed you. It might be worth trying to get a second opinion, although I know that isn't easy and you still might not get diagnosed.

If you still feel you relate to a lot of autistic traits and find accommodations aimed at autistic people helpful, then personally I think it's perfectly OK for you to continue to self identify. If you haven't already taken the RAADS-R (a short version is usually given during assessment, but not always) it might help you understand yourself a bit better: https://embrace-autism.com/raads-r/#test

It's also possible you aren't autistic after all, and what you're experiencing really is just social phobia and stress, or it could even be something else they missed instead, but that doesn't mean your experiences aren't real and valid. Don't feel like you have to stop using accommodations you find helpful. You're still welcome in this community.

Obviously I can't say whether you're autistic or not since we don't know each other and I'm not trained in autism assessment, but that's how I see it. I hope you feel better soon ❤️

[littlestarbigsky]

sodapop angst ? 🥺

so sorry this took me a while calendar month to answer😵‍💫 yall are the coolest for being patient with me, i promise my response time will be much better this summer lmao

a lil thing abt adhd/dyslexic soda with some mama curtis <3 i won't lie i cried like a BABY writing this one soo do with that information what you will

the door slammed shut so hard, it rattled the glass in its panes.

"don't slam the door, please," mama called lazily from the kitchen, her hands kneading a loaf of bread next to the sink. she looked up and her eyes landed on sodapop, standing in the middle of the living room, his little seven-year-old hands balled into fists and a paper shaking in one of them. her eyes scanned over him, his face was flushed and his eyes were puffy, his nose red, and there was something in the way he held his shoulders that felt so... defeated.

"baby, what's the matter?"

soda didn't answer at first, just bit down hard on his bottom lip to stop it from trembling. when he finally moved, he set the crumpled piece of paper on the table, turning his head away; silently telling his mama to look at it. when she unfolded it, her heart sank right through to her stomach.

it was a spelling test.

every one of his answers was marked wrong, neat little red marks littering the page. not just mistaking c's for k's and the types of simple mistakes darry would sometimes make, but the letters were all in the wrong orders, messing up the very foundation of the word. a few of them had been left blank, a mess of eraser marks overtop.

soda heaved a huge, shaking, breath, a few tears dripping down his cheeks despite himself, and mama felt something inside her shatter. she looked at him for a long moment before she caught his eye. without word or warning, he launched himself at her with all the force he could muster up and she caught him just as a terrible sob ripped from somewhere deep in his chest.

"she told me i just needed to focus more," soda's voice broke miserably. "she said i gotta try harder next week."

"i know, sweetheart, i know," she soothed, lifting soda up and setting him in her lap to cradle him against her.

"you don't understand," he sobbed. "i tried this time, i really tried."

mama couldn't say anything, the lump that swelled in her throat and the tears that pounded behind her eyes were strong enough to render her silent. all she could do was hold her baby close, brushing his hair back and pressing soft kisses to the crown of his head.

"i'm sorry," he cried eventually. "i'm sorry, mama... this is as good as i can do..."

her head whipped up, and for a moment, she didn't care if the tears came.

"don't you do that," she said firmly, her own voice breaking over the words. “don’t you apologize. you don’t have a thing to be sorry for.”

soda sniffled, throwing himself back into mama’s arms, “i don’t mean to be dumb… i don’t wanna be…”

“baby, there is not a dumb bone in your body,” she whispered, hugging him close and praying that he couldn’t hear the shake in her voice. “and don’t you ever let anyone tell you different.”

“but the teacher said…” soda gasped, his voice choked and desperate.

“i don’t care what ms. connelly had to say,” mama hushed, combing her hands through his hair and holding him tight to her. "she don't know you like i do, sweet thing."

"pony and darry..." he mumbled dejectedly. "they're so much better at this than me, i'm just not made right... i just wanna be smart like them."

soda's voice broke off, and mama had to try hard to keep her voice steady. she tapped his nose. “you’re not made wrong, baby. just made bright. so bright the world’s gotta squint to see you right.”

soda heaved a huge sigh, a few final tears dripping down his cheeks. mama swiped them away gently with the pad of her thumb and looked him over for a long moment.

"how about we do somethin, just the two of us?" mama asked sweetly, trying not to look too pleased when soda's face lit up, despite his red and swollen eyes. "darry's at football practice and daddy's taking pony to the dentist after school, why don't the two of us go get some ice cream."

soda giggled before he asked, "but... the dentist?"

mama waved it off, "nah, pony's got the dentist, you and darry have a whole 'nother week to rot your teeth."

he laughed. really laughed, and mama felt her heart ache in her chest with the love she felt for her baby, and maybe, just for now, it was enough.

[windvexer]

Hi Chicken, i tried your rapid manifestation spell twice and it didn't work for me. i was hoping i could ask some troubleshooting questions? i stuck pretty close to your instructions and i think my goal for the spell was very reasonable. i think the two places where it could have gone wrong is prepping the space and the offering. i didn't do anything special for prep, i just cleaned up the physical space. should i be casting a circle or something? also my offering (not counting the candle) was some incense, maybe i need a nicer offering?

Heloo, sorry this took so long. We're in reference to this, I'm pretty sure.

I wrote you this post.

In retrospect, reading that spell, I can see that it is is very bare-bones. I wrote it scraped of ritual format so someone could implant it inside their own structure.

Unfortunately this means if you do not have your own ritual structure then you might be under-casting the spell.

Prepare your spellcasting space in any way which you desire.

For me this means things like:

Calling helper spirits

Blessing the working space to be attenuated to workings of witchcraft

Raising, finding, or calling power to facilitate an act of magic (compass-laying and related activities)

To me these are not acts of lip service to tradition but vital steps. So in the spell as written, the entire act of raising power and moving into magical headspace is summarized as "prepare your spellcasting space however you want."

Consecrate, evoke, or greet the Eight of Wands in any way which you prefer.

I wrote this to mean that however you personally call forth power into your working space, you should do it; I personally don't think this spell is dependent on treating the card as having a spirit, or if you treat the card as a correspondence, or whatever. However you have to do something to call forth power into your space.

But I think this can come across as saying, "hello, Card!" without any magical action behind those words and moving on.

In my paradigm this step to call forth power from the card might be elaborate and multi-stepped. So maybe I'd have to ply the spirit with offerings, perform tasks for it (maybe it won't appear until the entire deck is pampered), or intuitively work to assist the spirit in arriving (more work with the compass or something).

By the time we get to:

Light the candle. Plainly explain to the candle that its job is to provide fuel to the Eight of Wands.

In my practice at least several magical actions have already occurred (such as those described above), and we've been actively working magic for a few minutes, maybe even 20 or 30 of work depending on how long it's taking to raise energy and attend to the needs of spirits that day.

To answer your question directly, no, I would not think the quality of offering has anything to do with it. I think I would first examine surrounding ritual steps to see if you've undertaken enough magical actions for power/energy/the attention of spirits to have actually arrived to your location.

In retrospect truly none of these things were really described in that spell post so if someone did not already have this structure I think they would not be able to tell it was necessary.

[rooniearts]

HIIII….HELLO…..WAVES NERVOUSLY….

I WANTED TO FINALLY SAY HIIIII I LOVE YOUR WORK SO. SO DEARLY!!! (as i’m sure is evident. pulls at my shirt collar, glances at the novel I leave in ur reblogs) YEAHHHHH…!!!!!

your art is SO DAZZLING it brings me so so soooo much joy GWAHHH,, the way you convey expressions and posing and your designs GAH IT’S EVERYTHING!!!

i am especially a fan of your AUs :3 espilver mentioned in any capacity is always a huge win for me BUT I AM SO SO SO IN LOVE WITH YOUR KNIGHTS AND POETS AU GAHHHHHHHH THEY ARE SO AWESOME!!! i’m so eager to see how their relationship will develop and such ahh!!!

AND !!!! YOU !!!! pls take this in the best, non-weird way ever but u draw blood sooooooo good IT’S LIKE. GRGRGRGRGRRRR…the formation in splatters feels so natural and generally correct so seeing my favs bathed in the blood of their enemies is a delight actually !!! glances at metal wins au. i’m sure he’s fine.

I HAVE A LOT TO SAY BUT I’LL LEAVE IT AT THAT GAH!!!! SO SORRY FOR THE LONG YAPS AS ALWAYS I HOPE I AM ABLE TO EXPRESS JUST A FRACTION OF WHAT YOUR WORK MEANS TO ME o7 don’t ask how long it took me to hype up and type this uhhhh the answer is multiple weeks OKAY BYE! HAVE A NICE DAY

AWWWHHHHH :'D This is so sweet!!! Thank you so much, I really appreciate it!! I love your art too, there is something so delightful about how sharp and defined your style is that I just can't help but love! <3

AND YESSSS I'm glad to hear you like Knights and Poets because I am still so so ill about them too :'D I just can't get enough of those silly lil guys and their drama......... I neeeeeed to draw more of them NAOWWWW!!!

Thank you so much again, this was a really sweet ask to wake up to!! :]

[npookie0]

NATHAN, my king- you've broken my heart so much with the 'gone without a trace' headcanons and my dude... I've gotta ask this to save my fragile aorta- could we maybe get some headcanons of the Lis finally finding they're partners after so long? Like they find a single clue that Leads them to their Partner's trail.

Please and thank you, love your work also you dropped this -> 👑

A Trace Found

Headcanons for Killer Chat! love interests x mc who they found after they (mc) went missing

have your free therapy gays

Finding a clue about your whereabouts :

Ronin

When he found that clue, that one little piece of information he needed, Ronin through that he went completely insane, like he's actually lost it and his mind was playing tricks on him. "No fucking way it's real... after so long and I find it now? Fuckin' hell, you're playing tricks on me now aren't ya?" To Ronin it would also feel like God has challenged him, like he was the one to take you from your murderous lover and now he's throwing him a bone after so long.

Angel

For Angel it was like regaining hope, the light returned to her eyes and she wasn't going to give up now. She held onto that hint and shook up all of her contacts to get all knowledge she could.

Misaki

For them it was like a newfound will to live. It was a hint on your location, they weren't crazy, they didn't make you up with their crazy mind. Misaki was going to pour her whole heart into finding you, use any means necessary to get to you and tell you how much she missed you and ask you why, why would you leave so suddenly and not tell her.

V

In the moment V saw the clue on where you could be, he moved all of his sources and informants, threw money at them and follow with his own investigation. He has to find you, he has to see you and make sure that you're safe.

Finding you :

Ronin

He stood still the moment he saw your face, then he started laughing, a shaken sound mixed with some barely hearable sobs. "So this is where you were! Wow, darlin', you overdid yourself." He grabbed you by your hand and pulled you closer, buried his face in the crook of your neck. "You played your game well, took me a while to get to ya."

He felt desperate, starved for your presence. He felt somewhat panicked, scared that he fucked up to a point of you escaping and erasing every sign of yourself.

He brought you back with you and for a week he didn't lose the sight of you, he didn't want to lose you for the second time, he didn't want to lose another partner.

Angel

She broke down completely, ran to you and cried while holding you tightly. Finally you're back with her. She never felt more relieved in her life, or at least that's how she felt in that moment. "I... I'm sorry for whatever I did, but please, never do that again."

She blamed herself for your disappearance, like it was her fault for you leaving. It was normal for Maria to throw all blame at her even if it was clearly not her fault.

She would check up on you daily, ask you for calls and meet ups at her place, sometimes she'd come to you herself, she just needed to see you and know that you're there.

Misaki

"No fucking way." She dropped to her knees in front of you, wrapped their arms around you and just held on. There was sobbing and bunch of questions, but they honestly didn't want to hear the answers, they just needed to hold you for a while longer.

They asked you if it's something they did, if you left because of her. She'd think that she disappointed you or that you were afraid of them because of their job as an assassin.

They'd stick around for a while, trying to not show their anxiety at the idea of you leaving again. She would calm down after a while, but still would text you even more often that before you were gone just in case.

V

He held your face between his hands, standing still and stiff in front of you. His eyes were travelling over your whole form, he couldn't form any words, he just looked at you and tried to understand the situation. "It... it really is you, my love."

He'd question you about the reasons behind your disappearance. He would feel differently depending on your answers, but the feeling of heartbreak would be the same no matter of your words and reasons. His whole world was ruined when every trace of you was gone and he will let it show.

Maybe he wouldn't cage you or put security all around your house to watch you, but Valentin would keep close to you and spend time with you, even his vigilante work could be pushed back just so he could get used to having you around again. All he needed was time to heal after losing you.

They found you yay

I hope it's happy ending enough <3

[spiritslashrrsadie]

for vincent- can you write some hurt/comfort for him? maybe something based off this line-- “I’ve noticed you avoiding me. Why?”

Undeserving Monster (Vincent Sinclair x GN!Reader)

Warnings - Brief mentions of canon-typical violence, cursing.

⏔⏔⏔⏔ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔

"Why won't you tell me, Vinny?"

You had been sitting on the floor in front of Vincent for what felt like hours. Your legs burned from kneeling, your neck ached from looking up, and the floor left small indents on your palms. Tears stung your eyes as you tried desperately to get your boyfriend to open up to you.

Something happened with this last group to pass through town. Everything had been normal leading up to his confrontation with one of the college kids. Bo had bashed one of the couples over the head to knock them out long enough for Vincent to start the waxing process. Lester had cleared out their vehicle for cash, things to pawn, spare parts, and towed it out to the junkyard. You cleaned up the messes in the street that they had made, took note of repairs that needed to be addressed before going back to the house to cook for the boys. But one of the men had escaped Bo's clutches which resulted in Vincent chasing him into one of the stores.

It took a bit but Vincent emerged victorious, dragging the body behind him with blood splattered across him. Whatever had gone down in the store left the other man unrecognizable, incapable of being used for a wax figure. Vincent's mask had been partially ripped off to reveal his lips and part of his jaw which were both drenched in blood - though you couldn't tell if it was his or not.

Bo gave him hell for being so reckless but Vincent gave no response. At first you just assumed he was too tired to deal with his brother but when he pushed past you and retreated into the basement without so much as a glance in your direction, you knew something was off.

That was four days ago and he still hadn't spoken to you. You weren't sure what to do anymore, you had tried coaxing him gently with patience and food and compliments. You tried ignoring him, though you weren't capable of doing so for more than two hours. You tried getting angry and yelling, throwing a fit the way that Bo did. But he didn't budge, he didn't look at you.

So now here you are, practically kneeling in front of him with tears stinging your eyes as you finally sacrificed your pride to beg.

"Please, honey. You've been avoiding me. Why? Why won't you look at me, what did I do? Whatever it was, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Damnit, Vincent, just-" You sniffled and look away for a moment, "- just fucking look at me, talk to me."

Vincent remained frozen, staring down at his lap where a small sculpture was currently wrapped up in some cloth.

You waited, searching for any sign that he was listening to you. But when he gave you no response, you chuckled bitterly and stood, wiping helplessly at your tears.

"Fine. Never-fuckin'-mind then. Come get me when you're ready to communicate like an adult. Until then," you motioned to the dark and cold room you two resided in, "wallow in whatever self pity you're drowning yourself in because I'm not gonna force you to man up and deal with this."

You turned on your heel and made your way towards the door, anger, hurt, and confusion swirling in your heart. You reached for the door handle when a hand grasped your shoulder and forced you to turn.

Standing behind you, Vincent looked at you with what could only be described as fear. His hand, always so controlled and gentle, shook and gripped you desperately.

'I'm sorry,' He signed slowly, hesitantly.

"For what?" You asked a bit scornfully.

'Everything. I did not want to ignore you. I thought had no choice. It was best for you.' He answered.

Furrowing your brows, you crossed your arms.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

'I'm...' He stopped and let go of your arm.

Vincent paused before reaching up and pulling off his mask and handing it to you.

'I'm a monster. You deserve a good man.' He continued, motioning to his face when he finished.

Your face, and heart, dropped at that.

"... What?"

You took his hand and pulled him closer while you sat down.

"Vinny, what are you-? You're not a monster! Why would... why would you think something like that?" You asked earnestly.

But as you asked, you remembered when it started. After his fight with that college guy.

"Is this- Is this about that last group that came through? What happened between you and that dude?"

Vincent looked down at your question, the memory flashing through his mind.

'The fuck is wrong with you, freak? You and your hick family ain't got nothing better to do than kill people?!' The blond man yelled angrily as he swung at Vincent.

'Well guess what? Once I deal with you, I'm gonna kill your whole freaky ass cult! Starting with that piece of shit that took us to the gas station.'

At that, at the mention of you, Vincent froze and his gaze turned cold. Anger consumed every fiber of his being when your life was threatened so Vincent did what any reasonable person would have done. He lifted his knife up and slashed wildly at the other. The blond's eyes widened at that, mostly out of fear but there was a hint of realization as well.

'Don't tell me you're dating them,' he exclaimed.

'What'd you do? Drug 'em or something? Why would anyone be with a monster like you?' He asked in disgust.

'Just wait, man. One of these, they're gonna kill you just like you deserve. If I don't do it first that is.'

He had no time to follow up on his threat though as Vincent lunged at him, his mask flying off as he did.

‘Yes. He made me realize that you may not be as happy here as you act. I thought that giving you a way out was best, it would make you happy. If you aren’t with me then you would have no reason to stay.’ He explained.

You sighed heavily and set his mask down next to you before grabbing his hands.

“Vincent, listen to me. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t love you. I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t want to be. So first of all, don’t ever think something like that again. Second of all, you are not a monster. You are gentle, intelligent, talented and the greatest man I know. You are not a monster and I sure as hell won’t let you think that.” You replied sternly, looking deep into his eyes as you spoke.

Vincent sat still for a moment, processing your words. Then he looked at you, truly looked at you.

‘I’m sorry. I thought I was helping you.‘

He slowly reached his hand out and stroke your cheek gently, a soft smile pulling at his lips. With his other hand, he signed a simple phrase.

‘I love you.’

“I love you too, Vinny.”

‘I can do better,’ he pulled away to sign, ‘I promise. I’m not the man you think I am. But I want to be. For you.’

I redid this one like four times 🧍🏻‍♀️

[jimziart]

Hi! I love your design for Maedhros, but I was just wondering: does he spill food/drink out of his mouth hole when he’s eating or drinking??

Thankyousomuchomg. But also Lol can you imagine????!

Poor thing….

To be honest, I thought about this last year when I started drawing him….and then i got too comfortable with the design i used lol

I did a lot of sketches back then of him wearing some sort of mask or prosthetic so this does not happen so often to him lol, but... those sketches are old and I don't like how they look (I was in a heavy art block ) haha.

Well,it’s this, I tried painting over the old drawing to make it look better, but yeh.. I got carried away ahaha….

I do have many versions of this “masks” one of them covers half of his face (phantom of the opera vibes lol)and other versions covers it completely. In my mind, he got this as a gift from Curufin, and i think he would only use it in more everyday moments, since i can't imagine what use this could have in battle… also the scars are more intimidating haha.

At the time, I was experimenting more with how I drew him. I think there's something interesting about portraying someone known as "well-shape one" and making him lose most of his face, I have many drawings of him with even worse scars and looking completely different than he used to be before angband, but I ended up liking the design I use better, lol, (although I usually keep experimenting and changing things ehh sometimes intentionally... but sometimes I just forget and do what I feel it looks best, like his eyes, I like the idea that if his right eye was badly injured, the light in them would be more spread out and also he wouldn't be able to see clearly from that side, but sometimes I just don’t add that haha.

oh well, sorry for my rambling and my bad English , i used this as a excuse to show all of this lol,aaalso, haha, I'm so sorry it took me so long to reply, I've been really busy with my studies and stuff, I'm working on a lot of projects and I lose track of time but I find this so interesting that I just want to answer it eheh

[peace-hunter]

the struggle of having to fight your best friend and be serious about it when the two of you have the same sense of humor and were each other's "yes and-" partner for years </3

anyway. de verdad es tu mejor amigo si no joteas con él cada que puedes 🤭??

haunted au (<- just a little bit tho lmao)

chat transcript under the readmore lol

nexus: he's far too close :/

solus: get him away!!1!!

alchemist: you have to distract him

zeta: throw him off balance

liege: flirt with him lol

zeta: what no

vector: DO NOT

alchemist: bad idea bad idea bad idea

megatronus: i'm disowning you if you do

nexus: no way he's doing that

solus: holy frag he did it

micronus: HOLY FRAG HE DID IT LMAOOO

megatronus: I'M NEVER TALKING TO EITHER OF YOU EVER AGAIN

liege: YES YES YES LET'S FRAGGING GOOOOOO

zeta: OPTIMUS PRIME WE DO NOT FLIRT WITH THE ENEMY

vector: if you get out of this alive i'm dragging you to the allspark myself do you hear me

megatronus: I'M DISOWNING BOTH OF YOU

nexus: DO YOU WANT HIM TO GET CLOSER

alchemist: TERRIBLE IDEA TERRIBLE IDEA TERRIBLE IDEA

prima: everyone stfu right now!!

liege: ABORT ABORT ABORT ABORT HE'S INTO IT

alchemist: WORST IDEA EVER WORST IDEA EVER TERRIBLE NO GOOD WORST IDEA EVER

megatronus: IF HE EVEN THINKS ABOUT IT I'M CRAWLING OUT OF HTE ALLSPAPRK AND OFFLINING HIM MYSELF

zeta: GET AWAY GET AWAY GET AWAY

solus: OH NO HE'S A FREAK TOO

vector: I FRAGGING TOLD YOU

prima: OPTIMUS PRIME YOU ARE GROUNDED

micronus: KICK HIM IN THE NUTS

nexus: WHY ON PRIMUS' NAME ARE YOU BLUSHING

onyx: THIS IS NOT THE TIME OPTIMUS

megatronus: I SWEAR IF YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT IT I'M DRAGGIN YOU BOTH TO THE PIT

zeta: WE DO NOT FLIRT WITH THE ENEMY AND WE ARE NOT SEDUCED BY THE ENEMY EITHER

[lcs-scar]

PLEAS PLEAS PLLEEEEAASSSS

Can you draw some pete content?? 🙌🙌🙏🙏🙏🙇🙇🙇

THAK YOU IF ITS YES

sure!!

[gastersreturn]

I can see Papyrus trying to do father-son bonding things with Gaster, like asking to be carried even though he most likely is taller than Gaster.

Oh he sure would, I'm pretty sure Aster would be perfectly incapable to carry Papyrus now

Poor guy is too old for this shit xD

And since you mentionned it, I'll take this as an opportunity to say it

Papyrus IS taller than Aster, and I absolutely love this xD Sans is off competition, he's not even trying x)

[craykaycee]

*casually moves a pointy laser when Moon passed* 737 don't mind me, just checking if the gremlin have real cat senses

I think he likes it

[occudo]

Wanted to share I now have Gertrude judging everything I do at my job. I will make her proud somehow. (I work as a medical assistant)

No, that's noo- Gertrude is not - she doesn't give you the best workplace related advice-

listen to Martin instead, he is proud of you